Pont du Gard

I have a love for Roman things, ever since I read the Jack Whyte's Arthurian Saga.  I thoroughly enjoyed his description of engineering techniques to drain a lake, build a road, or protect a village.  On this vacation, we spent some time looking at the Roman influences in France.  One of our favorite adventures was with Philippe, as he drove us down a Roman road constructed around 1100.  It was only wide enough for perhaps 3 horses...which made it a bit tight for our ten passenger van.   This experience made us look for other Roman roads, and some of them were plenty frightening as they got narrower and narrower while we travelled up a village road.  The houses kept encroaching on our path, and the driver...forgot to breathe.

Another thing we made a point of looking at however, was the Pont du Gard.  Built of the start of all our centuries,  it is a fascinating structure.  It was part of a 50 km aqueduct, used to move water from one place to another.  Pont du Gard is a series of arches placed in three rows.  There are six on the bottom, 11 in the middle, and 47 on the top row.  According to the site's website, it would have taken up to 1000 men working on it all, the time, for a period of 3 to 5 years.

I actually started to cry when I saw it.  The symmetry of it appeals to my sense of order, but the realization that it was built without mortar--it's held together only be careful planning and the friction of one stone against another--was one of the most fascinating discoveries.

We could see some faint engravings on the stones, numbers of the stones, mostly.  We could see how a stone from one arch would not fit exactly on another arch, though the construction is roughly the same.  The setting sun exaggerated the yellow tones of the stones, and it was just so lovely.
But, our visit there was not without problems.  We decided to be a bit touristy, and wanted to see the aqueduct lit at night.  So we went to a rather expensive restaurant at the base of it, and quite frankly, while the food was okay, we would not normally have bothered. But we wanted to linger a little longer at this amazing site.

The lights didn't come on. The arches slid away into a darkness so complete that there wasn't even a moonbeam to highlight it.  Not only that, when we finished our dinner and climbed up the stairs to the pathway, we were quite surprised to realize that it was barely lit either.  There was one light about every two hundred metres.

I'm not fond of walking in the dark.  It makes me nervous when I can't see my feet. Nervous enough that if I think about it too long, I can't move them.  So before that happened,  I took a deep breath and started out and in seconds fell so hard that I'm surprised the Pont du Gard survived it.  It seems that I was on a sidewalk that had a curb.  I didn't see it.   There was a little bit of blood.  There was a lot of swearing.  There were a fair number of tears too.

But, I have a unique souvenir from the Pont du Gard ...my knee appears to have a permanent bump. I am writing this post a month later, and it is still there.  I just have to reach down and touch the new profile of my knee and I am immediately transported back to Roman arches and Roman roads in France.

Now how many people can say that?

Cooking School

There were a few things about cooking school that I especially loved.  It was casual (and that made it stress free).  It was in a professional kitchen with a real gas stove (I'm coveting that, a little).  It had a chef who would not let us call him Chef (his name was Pascal).  And we did it together (which was cool, because usually, only one of us cooks).

There were also a few things I didn't love.  I thought there were too many people in the class (but maybe that is because we started out with three, and that was such fun).  Nine people made it crowded.  Also, I don't think everyone wanted to be there (and honestly then, I can't figure out why pay that kind of moolah?).  Ah well.  It can't be perfect all the time.

What I think I took away from it, most of all?  I'm not afraid of certain things that I thought I was.  Like butchering meat.  Deboning things.  Whipping egg whites by hand.   Cleaning artichoke.

This trip was a gift for me, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.  I enjoyed it so much that I would go back to Provence in a heartbeat to do it all over again.  And I would go to Italy and the rest of France and to Spain and to any place that I could find a casual cooking school.  Yes, it was that much fun.  Even since we've been home, I've been trying a few things that I might not have tried before.  I'm failing a little too, but not so much that I won't keep at it.

Here then, are some of the dishes that we made....

Pumpkin Cappuccino           

Quail stuffed with onion, carrot and grapes, 

with potato and foie gras tart

Raspberry tiramisu                                              

Eggplant Papeton, with a fresh tomato sauce

Sea bass stuffed with fennel, poached in wine 

Molten chocolate cake with fig ice cream  

Herb crusted rack of lamb                            

Creme brulee with a macaron cookie.  

Salmon mousse stuffed zucchini flowers  

Pork wellington with ratatouille     

Fresh fig tart with fig ice cream  

Market Day

Let's just get this out of the way.  I love market day.  I really love it.

The first one we experienced was under the guidance of Philippe our host, and at the time, there were just four of us to go.  He took us to a little village called Isle sur la Sorgue, and then patiently led us through the maze of vendors.  The route was determined in part by the many canals that characterize the village.  We went over small bridges and on one, Philippe pointed out that it is the route for an annual boat race.  However, all the people in the boats have to actually lie down to get under the bridge itself...an interesting manoeuvre because on the other side of the bridge are little rapids that they must also get safely through.  Good timing is necessary to be successful.

The German in the family was immediately drawn to the sausage vendors.  Sausage is taken very seriously in Provence, and there are hundreds of varieties.  While there are flavours added from herbs and nuts, there are no fillers. Flavour, not filler.  Don't you think that North America could learn something from that?  I on the other hand was fascinated by the huge cheese wheels and the incredible bowls of olives and tapenades.  And then, there was the awesome array of herbs and spices.

Also at the market, colours, colours and more colours.  The typical Provencal tablecloth fabrics were laid out in rows, just waiting for someone with a serger and the ability to sew a straight line (that would so not be me, by the way).  Vendors selling scarves would flirt with me (that was fun) and some of them were beautiful (and expensive....sixty euros).    There were kids clothes.  There were ceramics.  There were umbrellas and flowers.  It was vibrant and that made me feel oh so alive.

In Isles sur la Sorgue, I loved the canals.  In Aix-en-Provence, it was the art market, in Arles it was everything.  There, we bought a picnic lunch of some finger sized sausages, amazing cheese, fabulous bread and a half bottle of wine.  We sat and ate it near the coliseum and it was lovely indeed.  On the way to Colmar, we stopped at another little market, and we bought candied nuts, apple cider, and lemon drops.  I petted a goat (so cute) and did a little jig (very little) with the local band.

Market days are the best.  I wish we had them here, but maybe I wouldn't appreciate them so much if we did.

Jamie

For most of our cooking class, there were 9 students. On our first day though, there were just the two of us and a young man named Jamie.  Jamie was on the intensive program, designed for those who want to learn all the ins and outs of the kitchen.  His room was not as grand as ours,  for he was truly staying in the servant's quarters, with a separate entrance at the back of the building. 

He did not care.  Jamie is passionate about food, and his "vacation" was spent labouring in the kitchen from just after breakfast, until all the diners had been served supper.  If we were deboning sea bass, and Jamie missed a bone in his, the chef would tell him that he would be deboning fish all day. Jamie would grin and say "bring it on".  A discussion about the different flavours in olive oil would make Jamie's eyes glisten.  He would season his beurre blanc little by little until he achieved the perfect balance...and in that process he taught me a great lesson.  At first, the concoction was really tart from the lemon juice, but with Jamie's attention, it was soon this delightfully creamy sauce.  All that he had done was add salt. Oh, and whisk the daylights out of it.  And when the chef pronounced it good,  Jamie beamed as though he had won the lottery. 

When we became a group of nine, it took only one class before everyone would lean on Jamie to help them when the chef was busy.  We had a few friendly technique competitions...I won the "deboning my fish" and "whisking egg whites" and I came close when I minced my shallot.  I completely lost the papeton challenge (but hey, I tried it at least, and most people wouldn't). But Jamie won everything else. 

And that is as it should be.  I like to cook.  Jamie lives for it.  I like to experiment.  Jamie memorizes every step and variation on a theme.   I like to make a meal, and walk away.  Jamie wants to sleep in the kitchen.  His vacation was as perfect as it could be--he leaned new skills, experienced new tastes, and hung out with the kitchen crew.  

When our week was over, Jamie went and did the same thing in Tuscany.  I felt like I was saying goodbye to a nephew, a new young friend. He was such a  delight. 

Jamie just sent us an email that he's been accepted into the Culinary Institute of America in January.  Watch for this handsome face on the culinary scene.   I can't wait to see what's going to happen next! 

So here is the awesome thing.....

In 2001, when my life was not turning out the way it was supposed to, I took a six month, temporary assignment across the country. A few weeks after I arrived, I was pleasantly surprised to see a very friendly face from home.  Her name was Jo, and at 60, she had both retired and became a widow in the span of a few months.  Since her circumstances had changed too, she had taken a short term assignment as well, and we ended up living in the same hotel.

Jo was a delight.  She helped me gain perspective on my situation, and we explored the city and the surrounding area together.  We laughed, a lot.  Maybe a bit of that was helped by gin and tonic, her drink of choice, and one that I learned to enjoy as well.  Mostly though, it's because she was fearless and willing to try just about anything.  In fact, one of my favourite memories is of her trying to rollerblade in a parkade.     Did I mention she was on the plus side of 60?   Oh my gosh, it was a hilarious day.

Fast forward a few years.  Jo became ill, and eventually, we lost her too, to cancer.  That was a very sad time for me, for she had become so important to me. In my selfishness as I dealt with my own grief, I never got around to sending a card to her family thanking them for how she impacted my life.  I regretted that, especially since her last name was one of those very common names that made it impossible to find an address to send a card to when I did want to get around to it.

So imagine my surprise when we are sitting around our 'welcome' dinner with the rest of the students from our course.  We did the usual round table--who were we, why were we there, where did we work? One of the ladies said "Actually, my sister and I think you worked with our mom".

Truthfully, I didn't exactly register that their mom was Jo.  I mean, how could that be?  I was in a little town in France.  Our group had 9 people.  We were two of them.  And Jo's two daughters were two more.

I cried.  And we laughed.  And we told stories, and laughed some more.

It was one of the most singularly spectacular moments of my life.

I have some catching up to do

Boy, do I wish I took a computer with me on our trip.  I've had a few people ask about it, and I find that already I am forgetting things.  Frankly, it isn't as much fun to play catchup as it is to write my thoughts when they occurred.

Nonetheless, my aunt has asked.  My friend has asked.  My other friend has asked, and my husband has asked.  I promised, and so, I'll do the best I can over the next few days to tell you everything that happened.

When we arrived at the airport, of course we were tired, and a little bit confused.  There were some familiar things with the language, but it wasn't all computing for me.  We made it through customs, had our passports stamped and walked through the door where most people hoped to collect their luggage.  That was the first time we were grateful that we only travelled with carryon.

No sooner had we been ushered through those doors when we were faced with a really big crowd of people, all trying to figure out what was going on.  There were two soldiers with lightweight rifles doing their best to usher everyone to another side of the room.  We took our two bags and moved outside, as it seemed there would at least be a place to run to if we needed.  We didn't know if there had been another terrorist threat (there had) or if there was a problem with the building.  We only knew that there was a whole whack of people all trying to move in more or less the same direction.

Outside, we welcomed the opportunity to breathe a little easier.  But that didn't last long either because there were lots of flashing lights coming our way, and I do not like flashing lights.We needed to find a way to leave the airport.  We had planned on taking the train, but how to get to it was the question.

And Martin found the answer.  He is the one who realized that the other side of the airport seemed to be open still.  So we dodged a bit of traffic, moved around a number of people as confused as we were, and walked over there.  From there, we found our way to the train station, which was located in the airport.  I bought tickets, and away we went.

Did I say how glad we are that we just took carry-on?

Oh yay...an English keyboard!

Oh, I shouldn't get so excited but I can type more than a hundred words in English, and less than 50 in French.  So yeah, I'm a little excited.

I have stories to tell!  And I only have until Martin comes to find me to tell them.  Where to start, where to start?

I could tell you about the beautiful mountain views--and the amazing, and somewhat frightening precipices we saw on our way from Greoux en Bains to Grenoble, where we are today.  Wow, it was stunning.  It was also lovely to pull over and have a little picnic with local cheeses and bread and wine.  We found a table of sorts, watched birds that are unknown to us and spent a nice hour there.  It is brisk and a bit chilly up there, but still our weather is holding at about 15-20 C. 

I could tell you about how my French is starting to fail me.  Yesterday it didn't seem that I could be understood by anyone.  The accent is different here and my ear is not so tuned.  I felt stupid too actually, because I am missing the hard questions like "d'ou venez-vous?"  (where do you come from?),  But I can make a hotel reservation, make small talk with the friendly servers, and some of the harder things.  Oh well.

I could also tell you about how we found a place that let us have a spa for 10 euros each.  We had private use of a whirlpool, a steam room and a sauna, as well as some lovely chairs to relax in and some full body COLD showers.  At home, it costs around $50 for a visit...so this was a treat for us, and very relaxing.

We haven't really done much shopping, but the markets are great fun.  We have found a few small treasures, and there is one thing that I wished I picked up but didn't.  I saw them before I knew what to do with them...small creme brulee dishes in the most gorgeous shade of red.  There was something different about the glaze.  However, we learned how to make creme brulee two days later, and as soon as we did, I wanted the dishes.  Unfortunately, there was not another opportunity to go there, and I've not found anything else as nice.  Ah well.

Oh, I SHOULD tell you about Joel Durand chocolates.  Now, it is true, I am a chocolate lover, but this man has taken it to a whole new level.  He has combined flavours like szechuan pepper and dark chocolate, lavender or thyme or rosemary and chocolate, and they all work brilliantly.  It's complex and interesting...he is my new favorite chocolatier (sorry Bernard!).  I'm going to try and order some more.

Well, that's all the time I have...but I have appreciated the chance to share some things.  I fear that I will forget all about it by the time I get home, and there is so much more to tell.   For example, I think my mom would be quite surprised to learn that I have butchered my own rack of lamb, handled the cleaver and still have all my fingers...but that is for another day.

bye for now...we are on our way to Geneva.  Can you believe it?

Between then and now

We have decided that we should have brought our laptop along.  When we went to Germany a few years ago, we found internet cafes and libraries everywhere.  We are not having the same success here.  However; we have free wifi every hotel we have stayed in and so have been able to do many things on our cell phones.  Not everything though... like blogging.  It has had to wait until we hit special hotels; and this is one of them.

We are in  Greoux-les-Bains, a lovely mountain village that we stumbled upon rather by accident.  While our hotel has more of a "chain" feel, it also has a few lovely extras, most notably a bath that is of a comfortable size.  We are looking forward to exploring the village, which has templar knight connections, tomorrow.

We have had a lovely time exploring the south of France.  Surprisingly, it is a wee bit hot for me...days have been averaging around 24 degrees.  But it is a more intense heat, and I have almost become one of Peter Mayle's English visitors (he said..."What is it that changes from the color of a dead rat to the color of a dead lobster in three hours?)

But now it is time to head north to Alsace, so we will be staying here for another day and then heading towards Grenoble.  There is no internet in the room this time, but there is...a computer that I am grateful for, in spite of its odd keyboard layout that is sure to wreck my typing abilities for all time.  Did they have to move all the letters?

Pictures and more updates will come as they can.

Before you stuff it you need to clean it!

So today we had our first cooking class with Chef Pascal and it was grand.  First, we did the simple stuff--julienne some carrots, slice some onions, start to get acqainted.  Then he gave us each a quail...quite fresh.  It still had its head and feet attached.  First, he says, we clean.  And so we did.  We beheaded  it and whacked off its feet.  We burned away any pin feathers that remained.  And then we proceeded to carefully debone it.  To my great surprise, I actually managed to do it AND keep the skin intact, which was a necessary step.  We carefully cut the breast away from the skin and cleaned that well.  Then we stuffed it with carrots, onions and grapes.  With the bones we made stock for sauce...no butter here, he said, for this was Provence.  We also made pumpkin "cappuccino" as a first course, and to be served with the quail we made potato tartin with fresh foie gras.  To finish--raspberry tiramisu.  The three students all ate together and marvelled at what we had done.  None more than I.  The real question though is can I do it AGAIN when I get home?  Can I even find quail with the head still on?

This afternoon we are in St. Remy.We have done some shopping, and we watched a tournament of boules  (at least I think that is what it was called).  There is a fair on, and it is a very festive atmosphere.  In just a bit we will head back to our glorious little piece of paradise.  Our hotel is in the country, on a large but very casual estate.  I have had ample opportunity to practice my French, and have been told that I am doing well.  I have no idea if everyone is just being very polite, but I am content to think perhaps I am able to communicate a bit after all.

Tonight we meet the rest of our group.  Today there were only three of us; tomorrow and the rest of the week there will be nine.  Part of me will miss the attention that a small group allowed but there it is.

I am sleeping well here; Provence is agreeing with me very much!!

Paris is Pqris on a French Keyboqrd

I am sitting at our charming hotel trying to type on a French keyboard.  I do this sometimes at work but somehow the letters have moved around on me here.  That, or I am still not awake...

Our trip has already been interesting.  Part of the airport was closed as soon as we landed and had our passports stamped.  It would have been easy to panic but we did not.  There were a LOT of people being herded out and my French is not sufficient to comprehend more than a snippet here and there.  Martin decided that we could walk over to the other terminal and this is what we did.  Then it was time to navigate the trains into the city.  I started to relax after we successfully got tickets and directions.  We have enough French to manage and we are, naturally, making all sorts of mistakes.

We were tired but we knew better than just to go to sleep.  We checked into our hotel, and then we showered and changed.  After that we went exploring...we had lunch at a little bistro, and quickly moved inside just before our sandwiches arrived.  It poured and poured...and we were safely inside drinking wine.  What a delight.  It also made us slow down a bit.  Our walk later took us to the Eiffel Tower, where we declined repeatedly to buy any of the miniature versions that were being hawked everywhere.  We saw the boat that we will cruise on for our last night in France, and we enjoyed the busyness and atmosphere of little side streets.  It was perfect...until we started to trip over ourselves with fatigue.

We returned to the hotel early and fell asleep in moments.  12 hours later, we are feeling like we can handle the world again.  Today we are tackling public transportation again, as we are travelling south to Avignon and then a bit further south to St. Remy de Provence for our cooking school. 

I love adventuring!

Mais, oui....

Going Home, Encore

Last week, my sister-in-law Joyce died.

It didn't help that we knew it was coming, that the cancer eating away at her insides was going to win over her determination to keep it away.

It still hurts.

She was terrific--I loved her, primarily because she loved my brother.  She adored my parents.  She even liked me.  She is the only person I know who could consistently eat more sushi than I can, and I can eat a lot.  We made that our thing.  The last time we had sushi together was in April, and in fact, I had gone home specifically to do that with her.   It was yummy.

She once came to visit me, and we toured all around the city.  I showed her where I had moved to, and she watched my boyfriend (now my husband) and the way he was treating me, and she told me she approved.  My favorite part of that trip was 'having tea' with the Famous Five.  We were taking pictures of all the sculptures, rubbing Lester's foot and laughing, and when we saw the pictures we were quite bemused that the policemen on the hill thought we just might be up to no good, for they showed up in many of the snapshots.

I went home in April because I wanted to make sure that we had a chance to say goodbye.  I wanted to thank her for being such a great addition to our family.  I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated that she loved us all in spite of our quirky ways.    I had questions for her, things I wanted to know.  We had one or two things to work out and we took the time to do that. We talked about many things,  including the fact that she was dying.  We all are, we decided--life is, after all, a terminal condition.  We smiled a bit, toasted life itself with our sake.

She had a really great laugh.  Her smile was ready, for anyone at anytime.  I can't believe that I won't see that smile anymore.

I miss her.  I will never forget her tears at sushi, because we were talking about my brother, and how he was going to get through all this.  She knew that he needed her.  We all need her.  Things will never ever be the same.

I'll never forget her celebration of life service either.  My brother was terrific.  He was vulnerable but poised, crying but strong, tender but determined that we would all know why he loved her.  We had a few extremely precious moments to ourselves before the service that I will never forget.  There was a gigantic spray of yellow carnations on her casket.  They were, he said, for us to take home to remember her by, and so we all filed up to remove some of the blossoms.  I loved that so much.

Here's to you, Joyce Brown.  You were a heck of a gal.

Going home

A week ago today, my youngest nephew died.  It was sudden and unexpected.

It's a bit surreal to think that it's already been a week.  He was funny and bright, a daredevil and trickster.  He had so many friends that the funeral home had to put many of them in the 'overflow' room.  His sister gave the funniest, boldest and somewhat irreverent speech I've ever heard at a funeral--she didn't hold back at all and I loved it. My sister, his mother, was as strong as I've ever seen her be.  His dad was as broken as I've ever seen him.

He left behind his grandparents, parents, sister and brother, two daughters and a son, and a gazillion other kids that loved him.  Why? Because he totally adored them.  He made them feel important and brave.

He made me laugh.  He gave great hugs.  He was awesome, and I miss him.   I had planned to be home in a few weeks, for a much happier occasion.  Instead, I had the opportunity to be a support to my sister, to help where I could, to laugh at his antics and to sob at his loss, and to receive a hug from his 2 year old son that reminded me so much of him that I ached inside because of it.

Find peace, sweet Jessi.  Find peace.

A few more thoughts

Sometimes there is so much to capture on a trip, that when I go back later and reread the post (and correct the name of the hotel) I realize what I forgot.  Here's what comes to mind right now....

1. It amuses me that my screaming-guitar loving man, and my give-me-anything-BUT-screaming- guitars-self can actually survive a road trip quite nicely if we set the radio to newer country.  My grandpa would be so proud of me. 
2. Out hotel was great because the people who work there made it so.  It's also quirky.  While it's a bit hard to see from the picture, there is the oddest angle at one end of the hotel.  When it was built in 1927, the builders added the corner so that the front of the hotel looked grander.  Now, that little end piece holds storage closets.  You can see the angle a bit better by looking at this picture, taken from across the street.Last year on our road trip, we bought a whole whack of saltwater taffy.  We started putting the wrappers in a 500 ml water bottle.  It fits nicely in the door of the car.  We have been adding wrappers to it for a year now, and it still isn't quite full.  We had to top up our supply of taffy before we had to throw out the bottle.  When we do throw it out, it's going to be solid, like a brick. 
3. Every time we passed an old barn that was falling to pieces, I wondered if there were barn owls inside.  He wondered if there was an old Mach 1 in great shape that someone wanted to sell.  
4. Nope, I still haven't figured out why there is a fireplace and chimney on a nice lawn.  There's a driveway, and another structure with a house number on it.    
5. We like to visit "foreign" grocery stores.  I don't mean Asian or German or Dutch, necessarily.  I mean that when we go visit the States, we like to go to the store.  There's lots of things there that we can't get here, like fire-roasted tomatoes.    This is going to be on our menu very soon, just because we stocked up, and also because it is so good! 
6. My in-laws like to come and visit the cat when we go away.  Lynxy likes it because they give her treats.  And they put ice in her water.  We're lucky she remembers us when we come home.

Skinny Atlas

We decided to leave for the weekend, since we had four days.  That is enough to actually feel like a holiday!  So we are here in Syracuse because

• there's a great little outlet mall (so we now have birthday pjs for all the little kidlets)
• oh, and clothes for us too. 
• and one little Christmas gift for a friend. 

We're staying at the Jefferson Clinton hotel, which has been just lovely.  Why?  Because

• they upgraded us, to a suite! 
• Susan, who makes made-to-order omelettes makes them really well
• the two ladies at the front desk are very charming
• they let us stay an extra night in the same upgraded room for the same price
• it's located in the Armory District, where there are also lots of funky restaurants and more beer choices than you can imagine.  My German husband can imagine a lot so he is happy! 

And also, it's within walking distance of the Dinosaur, which makes me think of a writer friend who has a book coming out about a woman who gets a divine nudge to go buy a harley and see where it takes her.  You can pre-order it here. 

The Dinosaur also makes the German husband super happy.  See? 

We are having such a nice time, that we decided to stay a bit longer.  We had read about a lakeside village that was one of our options for the day, but Susan said it's great.  So did the lady who runs the Freedom of Espresso (and makes an awesome latte).  So we went. 

The place is called Skaneateles.  We did spend some time trying to figure out how to pronounce it.  Was it Skan-eat-els?  Skan-e-a-tels? Skane-at-el-es?  Nope.  The locals call it Skin-e-at-las.  

And it's a lovely little spot.  A lakeside village, lots of cute boutique shops, some antique corners, benches to sit on so you can watch the sailboats.  There is a church that has a lovely little corner, on the beach but hidden from the rest, for prayer and meditation. It was lovely. 

The drive there had dozens of wild splashes of these

which just made me miss my mom. Here's a few other pictures of the day

Jo March's Hat

When the writer's conference was over, a group of us were sitting on the patio discussing all the reasons why we couldn't write.  One of the reasons was family members who interrupted the work in progress, though it was often innocently so.  I mentioned that Jo March had a writing hat...and I only just now found the quote.

Here it is for all of us:

Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and "fall into a vortex" as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace.  Her "scribbling suit" consisted of a black woollen pinafore on which she could wipe her pen at will, and a cap of the same material, adorned with a cheerful red bow, into which she bundled her hair when the decks were cleared for action.  This cap was a beacon to the inquiring eyes of her family, who during these periods kept their distance, merely popping in their heads semi-occasionally, to ask, with interest, "Does genius burn, Jo?"  They did not always venture even to ask this question, but took an observation of the cap, and judged accordingly.  If this expressive article of dress was drawn low upon the forehead, it was a sign that hard work was going on; in exciting moments it was pushed rakishly askew; and when despair seized the author it was plucked wholly off, and cast upon the floor.  At such times the intruder silently withdrew; and not until the red bow was seen gayly erect upon the gifted brow, did any one dare address Jo. 

Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888)

Little Women

Ah, the ocean!

The one regular reader of this blog (my mom--and only because we shamelessly set her computer up that way) knows that I tend to update it only when I travel.

This is a picture that I took last night.  Isn't it lovely?  Don't you wish you were here?  The soothing sound of the surf, the lovely orange glow from the sun...how gorgeous is that?

Yes, you might be wondering how I managed to get here after yesterday's post.   Boy, that girl travels a LOT you might even be thinking.

Yeah, right. Double click on the photo, and look at the very bottom.   I'm vacationing in my spare room.  While I was gone, my husband exchanged the digital box in the guest room to one that is HD, just like the tv.  And this...is a picture of the Sunset channel.  Sounds just like being at the ocean.

I might be here awhile.

A tale of two castles

The writing conference wrapped up yesterday.  I was humbled by many of the people I met, and awed by what they could do (Angela Hunt, Kathy Mackel, Nancy Rue and James Scott Bell are brilliant and gifted teachers, and my writing buddy Amy rocked).  After our classes were over, many people headed out right away.  My new Canadian friends and I stayed over, and it was lovely just to get to know them better.  People are fascinating, make no mistake.

This morning after rising bright and early, I took one more walk around the promenade loop.  This is probably the easiest of all the trails, but hey, I had my cane, so I was okay with that.  I actually saw the eagles on the nest this time, and took the best picture that I could, without a tripod.

The only thing not enjoyable at the castle was the wretched cold I picked up.  I was blessed by more people than ever before in my life, thanks to all my sneezing (and yes, just because, too).  Then there was the coughing, the sputtering and all of that fun stuff.  And who needs to breathe, I ask?  Apparently not me.

It was a dreadful trip home.  I was feeling pretty conspicuous with all my coughing, hacking, and sneezing.  In the aftermath of H1N1, I can understand why people were glaring at me, and I know what kind of incubators planes can be.  There wasn't any hot water on the first flight (so no tea for me) and no air conditioning on the second flight (which made the vast amount of space one is given on an RJ200 even more delightful).  I thought the cold was out of my ears and into my chest, but alas, as we gained altitude I soon realized that it had put a downpayment  for both places.   By the time I landed at home, I knew I was twice as sick as when I started the day.

Know what makes my life so great?  My super guy met me at the gate, grabbed all my stuff and brought me home.  Then he sent me to bed, brought me some tea, tucked me in and took care of all the unpacking for me.  He's already doing the laundry and there are fresh flowers in the only spot of the house where Lynxy won't eat them.

Glen Eyrie was great but it doesn't hold a candle to the castle I have here.

Day Two at the Castle

Yesterday was intense.  I'm learning a lot, being teased, making new friends.  I'm finding new people to respect and learn from, and a whole whack of books that I want to take home.  It's a great group and a great location.

Last night I went to bed early, and actually fell asleep.  I slept four hours in one stretch--and then slept for another couple.  That was pretty much the most sleep I got in one night since, well, forever.  I woke up super early though (4:30!) so spent some time talking to people at home, and then went for a walk.  It's a lovely time of the morning...quiet and peaceful.

This is a place for solitude.  Solitude is a grand thing!  I may just have to make this an annual affair.

A day at the castle

My purpose for being in Colorado is to attend a writers workshop which coincidentally will allow me to spend some time with one of my favourite people.  She tells people that we have been friends for twenty years, and I hadn't stopped to absorb that.  It doesn't seem that long...it also seems like forever.  She is someone who has earned my trust, someone that I will drive a few hours to see, someone that I treasure as much as it is possible for me to treasure anyone.

She is a brilliant writer.  She has insight, and a clever way to put words together.  She observes things that I only wish I could see. She is beyond delighted to be here, and it is fun to share in that joy.  This is, I think,  her safe place.

It scares me half to death.

The conference is small and cozy, and in the most unexpected of locations.  Spectacular scenery, very friendly people, seemingly very well planned.  I have an historic room and a four poster bed.  The program is flexible, and I have lots of choice.  It should give me everything that I need.

The problem is that what I need may require me looking at things that I had very firmly sent to a corner with a strict admonition to behave.     What if they come to the party and have a grand old temper tantrum?

And what if I can't write?

Then again, what if I can?

Happiness is a Day at the Zoo

I am currently in Colorado Springs.  I arrived on Friday expecting to be in the mountains, but instead, it is more like a semi-desert with a mountain view.   I have so far found the people to be exceptionally kind, the plants intriguing, and the signs hung on overpasses declaring "welcome home, daddy" to bring unexpected tears.

I've been staying at the Doubletree here, and I have had a most pleasant stay.  For one, they hand out chocolate chip cookies upon arrival, and they are better than mine.  I hate to say that.  But it's true, and I am soon going to be on the hunt for a copycat recipe, or to make one myself.  I'm so tempted to grab a dozen for when I leave.  You know, to test and stuff.

In a couple of hours, I'm meeting up with one of my favourite people in the world, and we are going to a conference together.  But when I was researching a place to meet up, I realized that the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo is but ten miles away.  And I'm a real sucker for zoos.  Any zoo.  My favourite kind of day is to wander a zoo, laugh at the antics of animals, especially if they are in a large enough habitat, and learn something new.

I'm particularly fond of giraffes, so when I realized that this zoo has a large herd and a feeding station....well, I knew I needed that as much as I need a retreat.  So yesterday, a kind gentleman from the hotel gave me a ride, and a city tour, and I spent the day enjoying animals, the mountain air, the sun, a bit of breeze, giraffes and more giraffes, and for lunch....a foot-long dog "ready to party".

Here are a few pics from the occasion...

Catching up

Last week, I went home to see my family.  The last time I was there was in August, to celebrate Mom and Dad's golden anniversary.  This week, I went home just because. 

I promised myself that I would take some time to rest, that I wouldn't be too busy, that I couldn't see everyone.  I mostly kept that promise but it was hard.  I don't like being that close to people that I love and not being able to see them all or spend hours on the phone with them.  I didn't HAVE hours.  I had moments.  So to all my friends who are upset that I didn't connect with you, I am sorry.  I hope you can forgive me and I hope you can understand.  I'm blessed that there are so many of you...I'm grateful.  I love you but I just can't make it happen every time. And why am I writing that you may ask?  Because someone didn't understand and now I feel really guilty about it all.  So again, I'm sorry.

Here are some of the moments.

Dinner with Mom and Dad here.  After we got through the usual routine of who could afford to pay for what, I really enjoyed this private time with them.  It was ironic that my Auntie Bev and I decided to fly in on the same day...and it was unfortunate that snow delayed her flight be many many hours.  Consequently, she missed dinner, but I'm sure we ate enough to sort of make up for that.

I had lunch with Shelley, which was as always a delight.  We have much in common and we took advantage of the time to commiserate about our current situations.  And she told me about Italy.  I want to go to Italy.  Just not when a volcano feels the need to express its displeasure.

With the help of Boston Pizza, we hosted a party for all the kidlets and their assorted hanger-ons.  By that, I mean their parents and grandparents.  Can I just say how selfish my sister is for wanting those kids all to herself all the time??  Yes, in fact I can.  It's MY blog.  And also, that my newest great-niece is a gorgeous little thing.  And that my youngest niece is just growing up to be a lovely teenager, and that my  eldest niece is a really great mom, and seems to have found herself a nice man to share it with, and that my nephew is hilarious, and that it was a delight to see a little girl jump up and say 'my daddy is here, my daddy is here, my daddy is HERE!'?  Indulge me while I also mention that I love my aunt for saving my arm from coffee burn, and to express my thankfulness that said coffee landed on me and not on the bare shoulders of a 3 year old.  I don't think that the restaurant handled the evening very well, but I don't care.  From my perspective, it was a great evening full of crazy sunglasses and lots of teasing and best of all, we didn't have to cook or clean.  So thank you, kind serving people.

I had coffee with some touchstone-type of people, and we found a new little spot called the Three Bananas Cafe.  You should go, and your latte could look like this too.  If it looks that good, think of how wonderful it would taste (it was sooooo smooooooth).  Add in a good healthy dash of laughing and it was a great way to spend an hour.

My sister-in-law and I met for sushi.  I love sushi.  I can eat a lot of it.  She weighs half of what I do, and she can eat more.  She can eat a lot more.  I can't figure out how.   I'm jealous.  I'm also very grateful for the quiet afternoon we had for there were some real heart-to-heart moments coupled with some crazy laughter.  It could not have been more perfect, and I will always treasure it.

Then there was dinner with my parents, one of my best friends, and my very funny aunt.  Said friend shared the hotel room with me so that she could work on her novel.  I marvel at her mind, for the world she is crafting could never come out of my black and white way of looking at things.  Don't worry, I'll brag about her book when it is published, so you can find it at a bookstore near you.  She needed to ask my prairie parents about some much-needed detail, and much mirth ensued.

Then there was just one more gathering before we left the city.  Our 'ladies-who-brunch' club gathered and laughed and caught up, and told stories.  I loved that there were a few generations there, of people that I have known through my church for decades.   That was just one of the absolute best times, and I hope we make it a tradition. It was a GREAT idea!

It's always great to visit that home, and it's just as wonderful to come back to this home.  Life is good!

Toronto

My husband has been travelling a lot lately.  Me?  Not so much.  So when we had a four day weekend, we took a trip that was in some respects, a compromise.  We took advantage of the opportunity to go away for a few days, and then we took advantage of the privilege of being home for a couple more.

We took the more rural route to Toronto.   The drive was leisurely and it was warm enough to open the sun roof, a sure sign that spring has arrived.   When we saw a billboard saying that the 'most amazing coffee, two blocks left' in Madoc, well, away we went.  This little place delivered, and while it was really smooth latte, I think my husband makes a better one.  Still, if you are on highway 7, we recommend this for sure.

We stayed at this hotel, which just has so much to look at in it's historic lobby.  The room has high ceilings, big windows and a lot of space.  It had everything but a coffee maker, which frankly surprised me quite a bit.   No coffee maker?  Nothing to heat water?  What's up with that?  As much as I loved the hotel, there is NO way that I'm going to spend $7 to have two cups of coffee delivered to the room.  By that I mean, the $7 menu price, plus the $3 delivery charge plus the 15% service fee.  Good thing there were two Starbucks within a couple of blocks!

What I did love about the hotel, however,  were the doormen.  They were so much fun and they remembered us by name.  They were always laughing...and I appreciated that. Well done, guys!

We admired the history and architecture of St. James Cathedral.  We walked through the madness of the St. Lawrence market.  Our true destination was the Distillery District.  And Soma...without a doubt, my favourite stop.   The weather could not have been more accommodating and our day could not have been more perfect.  The people watching was great, and there was a young string quartet playing in front of this strange sculpture.  We had coffee, and freshly made hot cross buns...but the best part, was just being together.  He was showing me something that he had discovered, and there was something very sweet about that.

The Distillery District--now one of my favourite places!  And oh yes, he found a fixer-upper so he's happy too.

The best friends

I've been reflecting lately on friendships.  I've lost some, gained some and learned to treasure some.

North of Toronto, we have some dear friends who live in a lovely house by the lake.  Last year, we started our road trip at their house and it was perfect!  These friends are the kind who will drive for an hour just to have dinner, and that is what we did on Good Friday.  We chose the restaurant by choosing a location of the city that was midpoint for both of us.  None of us knew any more than the internet told us.  Also, it wasn't our first choice, but it turned out so well.

The restaurant is a surprising little cafe sandwiched between two service stations, and sorely lacking parking.  But our hostess was so charming and accommodating and the evening was a delight.  My friend, who represents all the best in French style, sophistication and class chatted in French, and I even practiced a wee little bit.   We had the best time--one of those great, tuck in the treasure chest of memories times.

While the food certainly helped, I think that our evening was so delightful because of our company.  What a joy it is to spend time with another couple who is truly happy.  We don't see each other more than once or twice a year, but when the opportunity comes close, we do our best to take advantage of it.  Our husbands like each other.  We tease, we laugh, we tell stories, we laugh some more.   We value the time that we get to share together.

She taught me how to do that, to treasure moments.   It often surprises me that our news and our stories can fit into whatever time we have.    I know that I can call her in a time of crisis and she will be there for me.  I hope she knows that I would do the same for her.  She sang at my wedding, and I sang at hers.  We have known each other since singing together in college, oh so many years ago.   Her parents have become my Quebecois parents.  We share in each other's successes and triumphs, and we pray for each other's struggles and difficulties.  We trust each other enough to share our defining moments.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said "Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart".   She must have had a friend like mine.

Not going anywhere but...

...allow me to whine a little?

I WANT A LICENCE to drive the car that sits in the garage every time my husband goes away for work.  I really really really REALLY do.

It just ain't gonna happen.

waaaaaaa

Seventh Honeymoon

It was my year to plan the adventure, and I had such a great one in mind.  We were going to spend a week in Paris, where I had made arrangements for an apartment.  However, circumstances resulted in us wanting a place much closer to home.   We ended up staying here.

We just went to Wakefield for the weekend, to enjoy our seventh honeymoon/sixth anniversary.  I had told a colleague that we were celebrating our anniversary, but when I said what we were doing, she called it a honeymoon...and I realized she was right.  Every year, this getaway is important to us and we are grateful for the time we have with each other.  This year was definitely important.  How did the time go by so quickly?

As we often do on honeymoons, we had a discovery meal.  This was a many-course tasting menu, and while the food was VERY good, the best part about it was the staff who served it.  They were amusing, and they teased us about everything from celebrating our anniversary to mistakes I made in my French. They gave us the best seat--right next to the fireplace.  Oh those poor souls who weren't anywhere close to it, for as it was, we were freezing.  As usual, the celebration weekend was the coldest of the year so far and the old mill was having a hard time catching up to it.

And what did we eat?  We started with an amuse-bouche of foie gras creme brulee.  Yes, it sounds odd, but it was lovely.  Then we had veal carpaccio, with a spicy salsa to complement it. This was my favourite of the entire weekend.  It was followed by a seared scallop with a sweet/spicy rice wine sauce.  Then we had dory, which was perhaps our least favourite course.  It was served with caper-butter, but the butter part of that took away from the caper part of it.  We had seared duck breast, the prettiest plate of the evening, and then when I thought we were finished, they brought out a steak.  Okay, I was more than full by then, so Martin ate some of mine too.  Afterwards, we had a home-made ginger-ale as a palate cleanser, and finally dessert--a chocolate cup with cream cheese mousse placed on top of honeyed berries.  Such a meal requires our attention for several hours, and it is a lovely time to talk and enjoy each other.  Although there were a lot of courses, each was small and so while our "sufficiency was sufficiently suffancified"* we weren't over-stuffed.

Our room was quite lovely...I wasn't able to get the one with the king-sized bed on the waterfall side, which would have been ideal, but the room that we had was just perfect.  It also had an independent thermostat, which was sorely needed.  Did I mention that it was the coldest, windiest, make-your-toes-into-icicles weekend of the year?

On Saturday, we had a lovely breakfast and then I got to see the spa.  Ah yes, it's a rough life!  While Martin spent the time reading and enjoying the fireplace, I indulged in a facial.  After that, we went exploring a little, and I took a few pictures.  Not enough, but did I mention the cold?  We did see a whole bunch of these...they look so goofy, but I always enjoy when we come across a flock of them.  I'm sure that each was about 25 pounds.

For supper, we went to Les Fougères in Chelsea. There were many things about this restaurant that we enjoyed, but because we were expecting another tasting menu that ended up not being available, we were a little bit disappointed. Martin's dessert however, was amazing.  For the first time ever I was sorry to not be taking pictures of food (I always try not to be one of those annoying people who assumes that everyone else in the restaurant doesn't mind if the paparazzi-wanna be's flash their way through dinner).

Martin's dessert looked like an ice cream sundae.  There was a lovely fruit compote on the bottom, topped with a generous scoop.  It was drizzled with chocolate, and accented by delicate home-made lady fingers.  But, it wasn't ice-cream; he had ordered cheesecake!  It was beautiful too--lemony, light, and a feast for the eyes.

Back the inn for another night, and then this morning we had a beautiful brunch.  Then, poor me,  I had to go get a manicure and pedicure.  It was a really rough life.  A few hours later it was time to go home, though we did make a side trip to the Chelsea Smokehouse where I practiced my French when I spoke to the owner about what I could do with smoked scallops.   YUM I can't wait to try them!

It sounds as though we spent our entire weekend eating--and there certainly was enough of that.  But we also did a lot of this by the fire.  Let me just say that I think he cheats.  I taught him how to play and he won every game since.

We also visited a few covered bridges:

Happy Anniversary husband of mine.  Here's hoping that we have many many more honeymoons together!

*Grandma always used to say that...I miss her!