Travel Planning to Make the Most of your Holiday - Part One

My friends, family, and clients can tell you that I have some of the most amazing, fun-filled and rewarding vacations that they have ever heard anyone speak of. And this is true. My theory is that if I am going to spend X amount of dollars on a trip and take time away from my day-to-day life, then I want to make the most of it. I want to come home raving about my adventures, brimming with excitement, and owning a plethora of incredible memories and experiences that I will never forget. And that’s exactly what happens, every time.


I am a planner by nature, but I also have a spontaneous streak, which when going on holiday, ends up being a 80/20 split. In other words, I will plan out most of my vacation in advance, but will leave some of it to chance, depending on the place I am going and what it is I am doing. My agenda over the last 5 years has been focused mainly on Britain and Europe, and as such, good planning has allowed me to see and do every I wanted to enjoy. Yes, it takes time and effort—but I can assure you it is well worth it.


The first thing I do is think about what is of interest to me at this time in my life, simply because my interests and curiosities tend to change and evolve all the time. Last year, I was thinking of Greece for 2017, and the reason why is because I have always had a fascination with Greek history, mythology and architecture since I was a kid. I have drawn the Parthenon about 15 times, have read and re-read Homer’s works and those of the great Greek philosophers too. Having a personal interest in the place(s) you’re going to actually changes the dynamic of the trip itself. It starts to create meaning and will absolutely enrich your travels. Take the time to think about where your interests lie, and what would be fascinating for you to see or do.


Once you decide where you would like to go, you need to take into account the time of year, which may include some restrictions based on your job, family, etc. For me, January and February are considered two of the busiest investment months in my industry. I tend to choose September because I don’t have small children and I prefer to go after the summer when the crowds have disapated a little, and ok, when the kids are back in school. The weather should also play a part in your timing—two different hemispheres and all. I wouldn’t want to accidentally book a trip somewhere where that country’s “summer” may cause me to spontaneously combust when I’m not used to that kind of heat. You get my drift.


Next, do you go on your own or with a friend? If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend or a spouse, it might be a given you would go together, or possibly not, depending. I am single, and have a preference to travel on my own; however, on my last two trips, my friend Sheila accompanied me. If you do decide to travel with a friend, then my suggestion is to make sure that you are very comfortable being in the same space together for the duration of the trip. An honest, open dialogue is required before you decide on travelling together (and during, for that matter), because once you are at your destination, you don’t want discover that every little quirk about your friend is making you mental. Set out some rules and guidelines for some “alone” time so you don’t end up killing each other. Also, you need to have the same objectives as to what you want to get out of the trip. It’s fair to say that you can have different objectives to some extent and still make it work, but if one is a beach bum and the other is looking to seek out historical monuments, then you may find it a challenge. Also, being on the same economic level is important. If you are like me and picky about where you stay, then set a price range at the beginning of your research so there are no unpleasant surprises or disappointments.


Now it’s time to write down an itinerary; for example, if you are going to Italy, where do you want to go in Italy and for how long. For me, this takes a little research that can easily be done through travel guides, either on-line or the old-fashioned way. I absolutely LOVE Rick Steves’ iBooks because they work off-line, have great tips and recommendations, opening/closing times, maps, etc. Rick also has great TV shows and Travel Talks that you can access on You Tube that help you actually see the places you may want to go to. I also like the Eye-Witness Travel books—they have very detailed explanations and gorgeous pictures, and each area of a city is broken down into subsections that help you efficiently plan your time. I am not in the ranks with the aforementioned travel guru; however, I will also explain in each of my posts for my trips, where I went and why, so that may help you as well.


Once you have an idea of where you would like to go, start writing out dates and places. I do it the old-fashioned way, with paper and pen. That way you can cross out and change things as you play with the dates and the length of time in each place—and believe me, there will be a lot of that. Of course how long you plan to stay somewhere is based on what you want to do there, and if there are specific events you are going for, you will have to coordinate your timing to make it work. It’s like the chicken and the egg in some ways—which comes first. It’s actually a combination of both determining what you want to do, but also researching what there is to do—making the unknown known.


These are the primary considerations I use to get started, and as you begin this process, you will start to feel the excitement building—I know I do! Part Two of this post will be more focused determining your activities, points of interest, etc., how to finalize your plans and ensure you don’t waste time in line ups!


NEXT BLOG: TRAVEL PLANNING TO MAKE THE MOST OF YOUR HOLIDAY -
      PART TWO

Enjoying the Expedia Experience

The opportunity to start writing about my travels finally surfaces!  I thought I would begin with how I book some of my travel.  My next blog post will be a little more about how I make the most of my holidays through some advanced planning, and then finally on to my actual trips—the latest one being Greece!  Thank you for following my blog as it develops into a travel focus—I truly appreciate your support!

There are a number of different third party services that offer discount travel that you can book on-line or over the phone.  I personally like Expedia as they have been consistent in their service and reward you for their usage.  I have been using them for a number of years now to book most of my travel.  The main reason I do so is because not only do I get discounts if I book a flight and hotel together, but I also see a variety of choices that I never knew existed before. 

Their on-line system is quite easy to use, so I start with my destinations, and scope out the hotels in the cities that I am travelling to first.  You can search by area, for example, London England is a fairly large city--so if I want to stay in a hotel on The Strand, then it will populate with just those hotels.  If I am going somewhere new, it’s great to have all the hotels in front of me, each with pictures, map, amenities and traveller reviews, all on one page.  It also gives you various rooms and price points, and allows you to reserve in advance with free cancellation, or book straight away.  If you reserve without paying, then you simply pay the hotel when you check out, in whatever the local currency is.  The price is guaranteed, but of course the currency conversation is not!  There are ways to hedge you bets with currency; however, that is a whole other post.

The cool thing is that you can see a wide range of hotels, and also read the reviews.  A word on travel reviews:  There are people who generally have a pleasant disposition when travelling (and in general), and then there are people who bitch about everything little thing.  If the bulk of the reviews have a high rating, then go with that.  Expedia also gives the hotel the ability to respond to reviews, which is something that shows me the hotel management cares about their guests' experiences.  As well, after your check-in, Expedia canvases you for an easy 10 second review, with that feedback going directly to the hotel.  

This may sound weird, but I spend quite a number of hours researching hotels--I am very picky about where I stay.  The location is key--think about the things you want to see and where the hotel is relative to that.  In Athens for example, much of wanted to see was in the area around the Acropolis so I chose a hotel that allowed me to walk everywhere.  I also choose the location from a safety aspect.  Typically I find that hotels closer to train stations may cost less, but if you're a single female traveller like me, you may want to steer clear of those areas.  When I was in Naples briefly, I found it hard to find a restaurant around the train station which felt safe--lots of shifty eyes my way--and on my camera!  Once you have booked a hotel, Expedia will provide you with a variety of activities that you can book through them.  I have done this several times as well, from car service to and from airports, to catamaran sailing in Santorini.  The prices for the activities are paid in your local currency and up front.

I also do my due diligence though by way of pricing to make sure that I am indeed getting the best deal when I book through Expedia.  Many hotels would prefer that you book through them direct, and provide offers to reward you for doing that.  The challenge though in booking direct is that you don’t have the option to pay in your own currency, and, if you are booking a flight, hotel and car for example, it is much less expensive to book that all together on a third party site like Expedia versus individually.  However, as I said, I always work out the math to make sure it makes sense—I can’t help myself given I am a Financial Planner—it’s in my nature. 

I often get asked if, because I booked through a third party, I get treated differently at the hotel (they can see that you did not book directly through them).  For the hotels, it is a form of marketing—they offer those prices through Expedia at a discount so they can gain business they may have never had.  There is no questions that the market for deep discount is growing exponentially on a continuous basis, so it would be smart for the hospitality industry to partake in that. I can honestly say that I have never felt any sort of discrimination of any type by using Expedia to book my hotels.  But then again, it might be thanks to what I do before I arrive.

I contact each hotel about 2 weeks before I arrive to confirm my reservation (including room type, etc), let them know I am excited to stay at their hotel, and how much I look forward to writing a fantastic review on Expedia and Trip Advisor about their amazing hotel.  That last point is key.  I was just in Greece, and Trip Advisor signs were all over hotels and restaurants there.  The competition is fierce, and guest reviews are playing more and more of an important role in how travellers make their choices on where to stay, where to eat, and what to do.  Also, upon check-in, I confirm everything to ensure it matches what I have booked, along with mentioning the great review I plan to give.  I always have my booking information on my phone through Expedia’s mobile app readily available in case there is any discrepency.  

Lastly, I find all the people at the Expedia call centre in Cairo, Egypt, an absolute joy to speak with.  I will usually plan everything out on-line and then given them a call (especially if I am booking multiple destinations) and have them put the package together so I maximize my savings.  Every single time I have called over the years, I have always spoken to a knowledgeable, professional, and patient (my trips can be complicated!) individual.  Their focus on providing outstanding customer service is one of the key reasons why I am a loyal customer.  In fact, when I go to Egypt next year, I will be stopping in to see them whilst in Cairo—that’s how much of a positive impact that amazing team has made on me.

Thank you again for your support in reading my blog.  Please feel free to make any comments or ask questions if you like—I am happy to chat anytime about my travels!

NEXT BLOG:  TRAVEL PLANNING TO MAKE THE MOST OF YOUR HOLIDAY!

A FRESH START - THE TRAVELS OF LADY LEVINE

I have been on somewhat of a hiatus from my writing over the last year. I suppose life has just happened to whisk me away into various directions, and I woke up one day (today, actually) realizing I have truly missed my long, lost love—writing. I also came to the conclusion as to WHY I love writing—I want to share my excitement of travelling! Just ask some of my friends on Facebook (yes, I went back)—every time someone travels and posts pictures and stories, I have to chime in with some suggestions or ideas or just plain “I love that place!”.


So, I have decided given the amount of travelling I do, that I would like to focus my “There Was an Incident” Blog specifically on sharing my travelling adventures. Don’t worry, there are plenty of incidents when I travel, so the idea of the title still holds true. Words cannot express (but I will find a way!) how much I enjoy going to new places, meeting interesting people, learning about the art, architecture, history and culture of wherever it is that I am, and then being able to impart that to others.


I am a Financial Planner by day (and a fabulous one at that), so it’s in my nature to plan. I don’t plan everything mind you, but when it comes to travelling here is my theory: If I am going to spend “X” amount of dollars going somewhere, and I have particular interests in the places I am going to, AND I hate standing in a line up, then why not invest some time into planning so I make the most of my time and see what I want to see. So far, that theory has tested well and I have had some of the most spectacular trips as a result. Just as a point of interest, I am now finding that my clients are asking me for travel advice along with how to plan their retirement—I’ll take that as a compliment and happy to do it!


My intention through this blog is to share my experiences with you, so if you happened to be thinking about going to the same spots, then maybe there is a tip or two that I have imparted that will be helpful to you. If you can’t get away to where you want to go, then maybe there is a sliver of inspiration or a thread of enjoyment reading about places you have dreamed of going some day in the future.

As a final note, you may wonder who Lady Levine is—well, that’s me! A few years back I made a land purchase outside of Canada, and received a lovely title certificate, giving me the option to use the title ‘Lady”. When I am in England, it works well, but most of the world thinks Lady is just my first name—I used to try and explain but only received confused looks in return. However, it makes for a lovely title to my travels…and so a new, wonderful direction is born through what I will call “The Travels of Lady Levine”.

Taking Back Reality...Good-Bye Facebook

I entered a brave new world today. I left Facebook—a place that I frequented as regularly as a neighbourhood pub. I enjoyed my virtual pub for quite a long time. For me, it started out by connecting with old school friends, catching up on people’s lives, seeing and hearing all that had transpired over the years. It helped me connect with family members that live on the other side of the globe and gave me a glimpse into their world so far away from mine. It opened my eyes and my mind to some of the goings on in the world, both good and bad.


Being part of Facebook made me feel connected. I laughed at silly cat videos, cried at sad stories with happy or not so happy endings, and shared in all that my friends had to say. It also gave me the opportunity to share—the adventures I went on, my thoughts and ideas, my hopes and dreams.


I loved my virtual pub—who wouldn’t?  Then I started to notice how things slowly changed for me. I was spending more and more time on Facebook—time I did not have to spend.  It wasn’t about staying connected anymore, rather, it became a place where I could get the attention I craved, whether intentional or not. I became engrossed in subjects that I thought I knew something about, yet realized I actually knew nothing. Instead of it becoming a learning experience, it became about me being right or having the last say.


And before I knew it, I was losing my connection to the physical realm. I was abandoning my creative energies over and over again. Time just drifted away every day, all for the sake of my virtual world, where I felt I was losing my real self.


So I decided to take back my time and energy. When I made my decision to “Denexit” known (I thought that was a cute term, being in the financial services industry and all, and, my exit was certainly unexpected), the outpouring of support from everyone I knew on Facebook was overwhelming. I had no idea that I made such an impact on my friends with all those thoughts, hopes and dreams I had shared. I was truly touched.


I am part of a generation that grew up without technology and social media, and I feel most fortunate that I have the use of it and can appreciate its place in our world. However, I also feel even more fortunate to have the memory of days where creativity, imagination, interpersonal skills and human interaction mattered most, and I’m pleased to report that those memories are alive and well today. That’s my reality, and I couldn’t be happier.

My "Gut" Feeling...Celebrating the Absence of Crohn's

I'm writing this blog post on a very important day—the 12th anniversary of the surgery that saved my life from Crohn's disease. It's tough to know where to start, so in the interest of time, I'll give you the Reader’s Digest version.


I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease 2 years prior to my surgery, and 2 years prior to my diagnosis, I had contracted the H-Pylori bacteria while living in Ontario for a few years—I was 29. That bacteria is nasty—it burrows a hole in your stomach (ulcer) and it takes three sets of the heavy-duty antibiotics to kill it. Antibiotics killed it alright, and everything else in my gut. However, at the time, I was naive to how this all worked, and simply did as I was told by the doctors. The reason I mention this bacteria is that I believe this was the root of the cause of the Crohn’s (and my GI specialist concurred). My gut was wide open to any and all pathogens, and probiotics were not even mentioned as an after-treatment to replace all the lovely good bacteria that was obliterated alongside the bad.


Fast forward 2 years, and I’m now back in Vancouver and decide it’s time for a divorce. It was my doing to end the marriage—our daughter’s diagnosis of autism whilst in Ontario took a weak marriage and broke it. It was a very difficult time, our lives were in turmoil, and weren’t a happy pair. The stress was at an all time high, and back then, I had no idea how to manage it, nor did I seek out help—I just dealt with it. In the midst of all this, I started having stomach issues—first I just chalked it up to a bad meal or two. Then it turned into wanting to be sick within a few hours of eating, and then finally into actually being sick. It turned from a rarity, to once in awhile, to more often, and finally into a regular occurrence, with the diagnosis in amongst there somewhere.


Crohn’s is a inflammatory bowel disease that can arrive anywhere along the digestive system, starting at the mouth and ending, well, you know where. For me, the disease had taken hold in my small intestine, as determined by a test called a small-bowel follow through. It’s lovely—you drink a delicious cup of barium (not sure that stuff was meant for human consumption) to highlight the digestive tract for the x-ray machine. Parts of my small intestine where extremely inflamed, to the point where when I was at my worst (just before surgery), the damaged parts were the width of a piece of string (they are usually an inch in diameter).


The pain just kept getting worse and worse, to the point where I had planned special places on my commute home (West Vancouver to Steveston) where I could safely stop and keel over in pain in my car without alerting the public. My GI guy said they use a pain scale in the medical field, with childbirth being about a 5, and terminal cancer being 10. Based on my condition, I was at an 8. It was so horrific near the end, that I just wanted it all to go away. It was only for a fleeting moment that I felt that way—until I was able to get a grip and remember I had a beautiful daughter who needed me.


My GI guy had me on a few different anti-inflammatory medications, but the only one that worked was prednisone. I was in love with it—why? Because it took the pain away. I went on it three times within a year and a half—I was able to eat again, and without being sick. After round three, my GI guy finally said no more, and warned me that any more, and I would be getting hip-replacement surgery in 5 years time. The drug let me eat, but it was eating my bone marrow.


During this time, aside from severe hair loss and issues with my teeth from all the stomach acid, I had obviously lost a considerable amount of weight. I was a healthy size 10 and just kept moving down the scale. Initially, it was interesting because it was neat to be shrinking and buying smaller sizes, and my stupid boyfriend at the time thought it was great because I was really slim and looked fantastic (what idiot is happy his girlfriend has a chronic illness?). The defining moment came when I was in the American Eagle dressing room and tried on a size 4 pair of jeans and they were too big. The sales girl was all “Oh my god, that’s so awesome, I’ll go get you a size 2!”. And then I lost it—I had a full-on breakdown in the dressing room while waiting for my size 2 jeans. When you can’t control what your body is doing anymore, it is a sick and horrible feeling. I was beside myself and knew that something big was coming. It was called surgery.


Hearing the words, “Your body is shutting down, you will be dead in two weeks if we don’t get you into surgery” is terribly sobering. Death is something that was supposed to happen when I was old, not at 33 years of age. I was at the point now where I hadn’t eaten anything solid in over 3 months, and was even throwing up water.


I will yada yada over the surgery and all the details of time spent in the hospital—but when I woke up from my surgery, four and a half feet of my small intestine was removed in 3 different places. I no longer had a terminal ilium (where the small and large intestine meet) so I have to have B12 shot into my arm muscle every three weeks for the rest of my life (B12 is absorbed by the terminal ilium). But that is a small price to pay for being alive. When they brought me my first solid food while I was in the hospital, I just starred at the sandwich for 2 hours, afraid to eat it because it might be painful. The radiologist’s report cited that upon inspection of what was removed from me, he couldn’t believe I had survived. The surgeon did an amazing job—internally and externally (you can’t even see the 6 inch incision anymore). He tried to tell me I would be on medication for the rest of my life, and would be back in for more surgery in a 3 to 5 years, and I said no to both.


I haven’t taken a stitch of modern medicine since that day. I use peppermint oil on my forehead if I get a headache. I drink chamomile tea if I feel a bit of heartburn. I take probiotics religiously every day. I meditate every morning and every night and I am grateful every day that I am here. My diet and exercise program is improving all the time, and I have learned various stress-relieving techniques that I practice daily. I live in the moment as much as I can, and truly enjoy my life. I literally have nothing to complain about and I savour what this beautiful world, even in amongst the not-so-great situations, has to offer.


There is much, much more to my story by way of what I do to keep myself (and my gut) healthy, which will be saved for a further post. The important thing to me is, I have internalized the concept that I no longer have the disease, and I no longer identify with it. I have altered my destiny by denying that there is no cure. And I wish that empowered thinking for everyone.

Positive Healing Energy - For Everyone

This is a bit of an unusual blog post for me.  This one is not about my travels or neat experiences. It's about what has been going through my head in the wake of the last few months and years for that matter, from terrorism to climate change, and everything in between.  It's about the simple regard for human life, and the quality and dignity that each and every person deserves.  It's about cherishing our beautiful planet and the creatures on it with us, and creating harmony so we may all live a joyful existence.  It's about each person having the capability to really make a difference when you feel so helpless, lost and confused about what to do or what to think.

Every morning when I wake up, I meditate for about 30 minutes--I have been doing this for a long time now. During that time, I radiate only healthy, healing, positive thoughts for our planet and all living creatures on it, including myself and everyone I love and care about. I would like to start a world-wide trend where everyone does this. You visualize happy, healthy people everywhere in the world, who are safe and free; living in harmony with all creatures on the planet; and our Earth is slowly being healed. Sound crazy? Fine. If you need science to back this up, because sometimes seeing is believing to some people, then read about the vibrational energy of thought and you'll see how real it is--everyone from the ancient Egyptians to Einstein knew about it. Look at the world and what is happening--social media is now more than ever a conduit for so much negativity--where do all those negative thoughts go? They create our reality. I intend on using social media not to stick my head in the sand; rather, I want to use it to spread as much positive, light energy as possible. I hope my fellow humans can help do the same--the rewards are deeply intrinsic and altruistic both personally and globally.

#positivehealingenergy

TU-MI or not TU-MI...That Is the Carry-On Question

I left today for a three and a half week trip to Italy, all on my own, that covers five different Italian cities and a whole lot of train rides. Needless to say, I am crazy excited right now. I fly into Rome and will use the rail to take me around, which then made me wonder amidst my planning, what I was going to do for luggage. Since I'm going solo, I will be the one lugging the case on and off the trains, which then made using my big hard case not a viable option (I think I could easily fit an actual person in there if I tried, that's how big it is).



When I was researching travelling through Italy, I have to say that Rick Steves, travel guru extraordinaire, was a life-saver. That guy is just awesome--he's so nice and friendly looking AND he knows his stuff thanks to all the travelling he has done (he also replies to Tweets). All his little tips and tricks to help you have the best vacation ever are so useful and practical and his website contains all his shows and talks. I downloaded his books on Rome, Florence and Tuscany, and Venice through iBooks, which then goes on to both my iPad and my iPhone. The iPad is for the planning, and the iPhone is out in the field with me. The cool thing is you can look at his books that have walking tours, maps and pretty much any other information you need to know, all off-line on your iPhone--it's absolutely fabulous!

One of the things I learned from him as a solo traveller is to watch your stuff when you are travelling through Italy, especially on the trains. If you can keep your bag small and light, you will just simply travel better overall, but you will also be able to put your bag in the overhead bins above your seat on the train. You then can keep an eye on it and it doesn't have to go into the communal luggage rack at the end of each car.

Perfect--I like that. Here's the thing: How light can one woman pack for a 25 day vacation? Can it all be stuffed into a carry-on size piece of luggage--that just seemed insane to me. First things first, I wanted to know what the acceptable size limit for carry-on was for British Airways (all the airlines are slightly different--BA is 22" x 18" x 10"). Then I started to research on the net because whatever I bought, I would also need it to eventually expand--there was no question about that. What I discovered in the end is that I really actually prefer to check my luggage so I don't have to babysit it before I get on the plane, so worrying about BA's size limit was a waste of time for me. I did still want a carry-on though for the sake of the train's overhead bin.




With internet research done, I had decided to go to the new outlet mall at YVR (Vancouver International Airport) to pick up my Samsonite Fiero Hardcase 20" Carry-On Spinner in a lovely rose colour (which incidentally meets BA's size requirements). I mentioned this to one of my friends who has a strong dislike for the outlet mall (I won't say why), and she suggested the Tumi store in Pacific Centre. It made sense because even though I pass by the airport every day, the outlet mall is new, and is infamous for its traffic issues, whereas I have always found it easy to make my way into Pacific Centre's parkade.




And so one day after work, I decided to do just that. I had never heard of Tumi before so I had to hunt down where the store was in the mall. When I found it, it was gleaming and bright--a shiny new store that just screamed beautiful luggage. It was so shiny that I almost walked right through the mirrors they had at the back--or I just wasn't watching where I was going--one of the two. Since I came from work, I was dressed in business attire, and as I walked into the store, I got a once over from the female sales associate. Excuse me? How odd. That's happened before to me in Louis Vuitton where I've just dropped in wearing Lululemon, but even they were more welcoming, and they sell clothing! This is a LUGGAGE store lady, so step off. She then did the "Can I help you?" in the driest voice possible while still eyeing up my wardrobe--she may or may not have rolled her eyes too. I explained what I was looking for and she pointed me directly to possibly the most beautiful piece of luggage I have ever seen, if luggage can be beautiful, that is. It was perfect--great size, nice streamlined look, expandable--awesome, I may have found my luggage! Until I asked the price.




Now keep in mind that this piece of luggage is CARRY-ON size. Yes, it's made out of some ridiculously durable material that has been trampled on by a heard of elephants or something and still survived, blah, blah, blah... Ok folks, it was $800. Yes, you read it right, $800. God only knows how much the full size ones were! She sees the look of horror on my face and with a very serious tone and without skipping a beat says, "It's an investment". I almost burst out laughing, but controlled the urge. I did let her know I was a Financial Planner and that I'm more into appreciating assets AND I could take a whole other trip somewhere for that price. I promptly called my supposed helpful friend as I turned and walked out of the shiny luggage store (almost falling because it was just that shiny) to thank her for the great suggestion.




I did eventually make it to the Samsonite shop at the outlet mall, picked up my lovely pink bag amid all the frantic luggage shoppers, for less than a quarter of the price of the shiny bag. When heading back to the car, low and behold, I see a guy with a Tumi bag and my curiosity gets the better of me. How much is the Tumi bag at the outlet? After all, they are just so beautiful, then I thought, why not, let's have a look see.




I walk into the Tumi outlet shop, with my pink bag in tow and immediately get a look of disgust shot at me for bringing in a substandard piece of luggage into their store. I take a look at the price for the same bag (an earlier model of course) and we're now down to only $565--I don't think so. The sales lady comes over before I can walk away and says, "You know, it's an investment". Right, ok, well we're done here--have heard that one before (they really need to change their sales pitch).




And off I go into the sunset (literally) with my very suitable and very durable carry-on that is gorgeous and pink and semi-shiny. It fits ALL of my fabulous wardrobe for my amazing Italian adventure that I am now about to embark on.




Ciao ciao!

REVISITED: London - Day 1: Lost in History

This is a blog post I wrote from my first day in London whilst on my first trip to England in 2011. I revisit it now because I am about to embark on another epic trip, this time to Italy and then finishing off in England. Ensuring there is a stay in London is a must when I fly off the continent--words can't describe how at home I feel there. The history, the energy, the people--I love it all.



I can’t even begin to explain how much planning I put into this trip, in fact, I really feel that I could land a career in the travel industry after this one. Who am I kidding--the planning was half the fun, for every Saturday morning during the months prior, I spent researching where I wanted to go and why. Learning the intricacies of everything in my scope of interest was awesome, and when that plane landed at Heathrow, all my preparation was ready to be put into motion.


I’m so grateful for having the ability to fall asleep anytime, anywhere--so having a long sleep on the plane for the bulk of the trip allowed me to end up on London’s time zone fairly quickly. I think if you don’t make a concerted effort to do that, then you’ll end up messing up your first few days, and there was no room in my schedule for that!


Before I left Canada, I purchased my Brit Rail pass--it came with two tickets for the Heathrow Express. Brilliant--15 mins from the airport into Paddington Station--that’s a fast train. True to its name, Paddington Station had a Paddington Bear kiosk, and when I arrived there I thought of my friend Tara who lived right near the station when she lived in London (how lucky was she!). It was so easy to find everything, including the taxi that took me from train station to my hotel. The taxi ride was a little frightening to say the least--not only are they driving on the wrong side of the road, but everyone there drives like a maniac (I know that might be the pot calling the kettle black)--I’m pretty sure I had my hands over my eyes for a good part of the ride (mmm...similar to my passengers).


The hotel was on Northumberland, which is one of streets that off-shoots from Trafalgar Square--a more than perfect location! My hotel was awesome--thanks to the internet now, nothing should be a surprise when you arrive. I literally walked into my hotel room, did a quick check of place (it was fabulous, with good, usable bath stuff too) changed, threw my camera around my neck, and with my handbag over my shoulder, away I went for a trip down Charing Cross Road, heading for the British Museum. Sounds easy enough, right?

Lord Nelson's Column

As I walked towards Trafalgar Square with map in hand, I quickly realized that everything was WAY bigger in reality from what I imagined, and it didn’t matter which way I turned, there was something to take a photo of--it was wonderful but confusing at the same time. Lord Nelson’s column, the Lions, The National Gallery, the fountains, and the ship in a bottle...all amazing! I could not believe the amount of people around--New York has nothing on London. Tourists could be spotted at every turn, and from all over the globe as well (the Italians really stood out with all their shouting and arm waving). I also learned through experience that pedestrians DO NOT have the right of way there and more importantly, I learned to not copy what other pedestrians were doing--I was honked back onto the curb many a time.


Once I left Trafalgar Square and made my way down Charing Cross Road, I soon discovered that there are no street signs anywhere--there may be on occasional sign on the side of a building, but that was it. So naturally, within minutes, I was lost. It’s not all London’s fault for not having proper signage--I will take some of the blame since all it took was me catching a glimpse of a bunch of cute little book stores on Museum Street, and I strayed from my beaten path quite willingly.

Cute Little Pub

Even though the British Museum was my destination, I was getting a bit peckish for a bite to eat. There is certainly no shortage of pubs in London--they are so full of character, adorned with gorgeous hanging baskets and merry people spilling out into the streets. But they are also so full of food that seemed a little artery-clogging and anti-happy stomach for me. I needed to be fit for my museum excursion and for the rest of the trip, so I promptly passed on the pub food and reach for my protein bar instead.


And alas, I arrived at the British Museum. The facade of the gigantic building is fashioned after an ancient Greek temple, with Ionic columns and all--so once I took a few photos of the building itself, I headed inside. I will say that my hat is off to London for making the entrance to many of their museums free of charge, and this one was no exception--what a great way to allow everyone to enjoy. I had already made sure I had downloaded Rick Steves’ audio guide for the museum onto my iPhone and away I went. Apparently my agenda did not match Rick Steves’ agenda. I wanted to see Egypt and Greece, two places that really resonate with me by way of history and culture. So, after fighting with the audio guide out loud with a lot of “no, no, I don’t want to see that, I want Egypt” and after receiving quite a few odd looks from other visitors, I decided to abandon Rick’s voice and just wing it.


Words can’t describe the things I saw--knowing how far back the artifacts, statues, carvings, etc. dated back to, and the history surrounding them--I was in total awe. Now, there is a specific rule of “don’t touch”, and rightly so--who wants someone’s greasy fingerprints to ruin something that is thousands of years old? Well, it took everything I had to not touch, even with clean hands, but I made sure I didn’t because I respected what I was looking at too much. When you believe in the laws of energy like I do, you want to take full advantage of that concept when you’re with historically significant items, so instead, I got as close as I could without setting off an alarm or alerting security (those who know me would be surprised that didn’t happen). I did however, manage to give a lecture to a family from France who were about to stick their little French fingers all over a statue of Sekhmet--not on my watch, mon amis.

Column from the Erechtheion 

I had mixed emotions as I walked through the museum--much of what was in there didn’t belong there--the Parthenon friezes, the statue of Rameses II, one of the columns from the Erechtheion--they belonged with the buildings or the area they came from. But I had to get past that--everything that was in there was well taken care of and there for people to learn and enjoy, and that made me happy. The best thing of all was being so close to so much of the history that I love. I also felt that I should have been made an honorary curator of the museum since I was able to gather a small crowd as I described how the Parthenon was built (I originally wanted to become an architect). Somehow, it came to light with the group that my profession was that of a Financial Advisor and naturally another 5 minutes was spent discussing the global economy--the irony being we were standing in the Greece section.



After I took a few photos for other tourists outside the museum, I slowly made my way back towards Trafalgar Square, passing by Piccadilly Circus. “Circus” is a British name for round-about but I can certainly see why it’s called a circus--very cool spot though--lots of people just hanging out and having fun. I was chatted up by a few different locals and it was great--I’m such a sucker for that British accent! I did made the mistake of stopping briefly in the M&M Shop, and was immediately attacked by a giant yellow M&M. It took three people to pull him off me--I have no idea what the hell happened there--I know I am starved for male affection at times, but geez, that’s a bit much.

Crazy lunatic M&M before the attack

I soon found myself back at Trafalgar Square only to find that there were about 6 roads that come off of that supposed square (it looks more like a giant circle to me), and I knew my hotel was down one of them (remember, no street signs). After a few tries, I eventually found the one that I needed, and up to my room I went. I was going on a protein bar all day, so now I was ravenous but too exhausted to go out. So, what did I find, but a great place called Deliverance. Instead of a creepy redneck Burt Reynold’s movie, this was a food delivery service that delivers right to the hotel. I noticed that the British like to use peas in a lot of their food, so I ordered a few different items, most of which had peas in them, and scooted downstairs to the lobby once the giant bags of food arrived. Needless to say, I had dinner for the next night as well. I always request a little fridge in my room when I travel so I can do stuff like that. True to the rumor that the food there is expensive (but plentiful), I paid the delivery guy and had a little pea-orientated feast up in my room while watching Chicken Run on the telly. I recorded my voice notes shortly after (best way to track a vacation as usually there is no time or energy to write), and away into dreamland I went, only to wake up the next day to another incredible day.

Good-Bye Steveston High

I drove by today to see my old high school pulled apart,

How do I say goodbye?  Where do I start?

Steveston High in Richmond, that was the name,

We were the Packers, and we were anything but lame.

A large group we were, as diverse as they come,

Musical instruments for others, jock-straps for some.

Am I really that sad that the old girl is being torn down?

Hell no, it's decades overdue!  There's no reason to frown!

You see though, this place is where I was lucky to have learned so much,

From art history, to Spanish, to writing essays and such.

And to be the only girl in my drafting class, well that was something to see,

But who kicked all the boys' asses?  Mmm...yeah, that was me.

An architect I certainly did not become, and that's ok,

But my appreciation for architecture and engineering is still here today.

My love of Mexican food also began at this school,

Well, perhaps it was at Chi Chi's during third period--hey, we thought we were cool.

So once high school is over, what have you got?

A group of people who know exactly who they are and what they will be--I think not!

The neat thing is this:  over time, the school can go, but here's what will stay,

The good times will shine through, and the bad will fade away.

And as she gets bulldozed into the ground, I will say this to my school:

Thanks for all the memories and friends, Steveston High--Packers still rule.

ADDICTED TO NETFLIX--MY LIFE IN CAMELOT

When I was a kid in the 80’s, VCRs were all the rage, and thanks to my Dad’s interest in getting all the current technology he could get into our home, we were one of the first families amongst my friends to get a VCR.  Years later, we all graduated to DVDs and eventually said good-bye to the “video” stores. My, how times have changed. Here were are now at the age of video on demand—anything you want, anytime, anyplace (provided you have the hardware and technology to stream it in). So when Netflix arrived on the scene, it was a like a dream come true. A seemingly endless supply of movies and TV shows, all at your fingertips.


It all sounds fabulous, doesn’t it? And it is…until you are home sick for a week. This will be the beginning of a very mono-dependent relationship with Netflix that will bring out the addictive personality in you that you thought you never had.


Here’s what happened to me…


I am really not a TV kind of person—I like the occasional movie and a good TV show too, but I’ve got too many things on the go and plainly have no interest in watching other’s people’s success (I’d rather be building my own), especially when I hear about some of the current shows (what the hell is a Duck Dynasty anyway?). I’ve had my X-Box 360 Kinect (love exercising with it) for some time, and I kept seeing all the Netflix ads but paid no attention. Somewhere along the way, I decided to switch internet providers since I was getting screwed on my monthly bill—it doesn’t help when all you have is internet in a world of bundling—no home phone, no cable. Incidentally, Telus was offering a free 42’ LG Smart TV and a few other perks for switching, but the catch was you had to have basic cable on a three year contract (it’s now two). So, being the savvy financial planner I am, I did the math, and figured out that even with the contract, it all made good financial sense, and I got to ditch my 13 year old big-back TV. I ended up donating the TV to a charitable organization who collects furniture for mentally ill people who were homeless and who are now building their home again. It went to a wonderful 65 year old man who was thrilled with it—awesome!


Nothing radically changed for me at that point because I still wasn’t used to having a TV with cable, so it wasn’t my go-to thing when I was home. I did however, flip through the channels a few times and quickly discovered what absolute crap is on TV (such as the aforementioned program that doesn’t actually have ducks in it). Telus gave me a whack of free special channels to try out , and even though some of them were disappointing, I did manage to find my groove with a few, and coupled with the lovely PVR, well, I was on my way to entering into this decade.


So, got the new TV, the cable, the special channels, and the PVR—the only bridge not yet crossed was ordering Netflix. Since the new TV hooks directly into the internet, and, being the smart TV that it is, it made signing up for Netflix as easy as one click away. I took the plunge and voila, it was done—and unbeknownst to me, so was my life, for the foreseeable future anyway.


It was like a whole new world—so many movies, so many choices! I was in awe—what do I watch first? It made my DVD collection look like a joke—this was crazy—all wonderfully categorized too! Some of those great 80’s flicks were in there, along with current TV shows and movies that seemed to have just come out of the theatre. And so began my infatuation with Netflix.


It started with a movie here and there throughout the week—it was easy because I ordered Netflix at the beginning of spring and anyone who knows me, knows I am out and about outdoors when the weather is good (and even in the rain actually). When I did enter into my movie heaven, it was wonderful to find some of my interests were more than satiated. Loads of great documentaries that were very interesting and helpful when it came to physical/spiritual health, some beautiful films on nature and our planet, the classics, super cool thrillers, sci-fis and fantasy movies with knights and castles that took me to another time and dimension.


And then it happened…I was very ill this past Christmas through until New Years. Yes, six days at home—all day, all night. Granted, the first day I could barely open my eyes much less reach for the TV controller. But when those eyes were open, even though I was too ill to do anything constructive, I was still somehow able to focus incessantly on the journey I was about to embark on with Netflix.


Here’s what happens…someone suggests that you may like a particular TV series—in my case, it was Merlin. A show right up my alley, with knights, romance and adventure. Perfect. What someone didn’t tell me is that it had six seasons, and about twenty-two episodes per season. That’s a lot of TV. I started watching in between making hot drinks and blowing my nose. It is amazing how time can pass when you are fully engaged in a complete and utter fantasy, experienced through the power of Netflix. Poof! All of a sudden, it’s 2am and you’re rationalizing with yourself that it’s late and you really should go to bed, but you’re desperate to see what happens to Prince Arthur and Merlin in the next episode. Plus, you’re at home sick, so hey, what’s the big deal. Well, that’s great when you have no where to be but home. Does it screw up your sleep schedule and give you a skewed sense of time? Yes. Does watching back to back episodes of a TV show make you feel like you are now part of that show and that is your current reality? Yes. No joke, I was living in Camelot alright (sometimes I think I still do actually), dragons and all.


I realized my Netflix addiction was over the edge when I attempted to leave my home once I was well, and regain my normal life in the supposed real world. I was still two seasons away from completing the series, so what do you think I did every day after work and on weekends for the next two weeks? You guessed it, I went back to Camelot to see Merlin and the gang. Oh, just as a point of interest, if you don’t think that being a serial Netflix’er will enter into your dreams at night (when you do eventually get some sleep), think again. You will eat, breathe, and live the show you are watching AND you will have the most spectacular dreams you have ever had in your life. Maybe it’s because I picked a six-season TV show—I went hard-core.


When friends and family are starting to wonder where you are and what you have been doing over the course of the last two weeks, and you have been LYING to save the embarrassment of admitting to them that you’re hooked on a TV show and won’t stop until it’s finished, that’s when you know the addictive personality (which we all have to some degree—just ask my closet) has taken over. Don’t worry, my cats were fed and I was able to function in the real world most of the time.


Then the last episode came and I was a blithering mess. Thanks to “living” in the show, it was all too real and I had to count on the support of some of my friends who had been through the same experience of Merlin. Most of them watched it over the course of the six years when it was on air, like a normal person—unlike me, where I unnaturally crammed it all in within three weeks and was enduring the fallout as a result.


Fortunately, I was able to see what my Netflix addition had done to me—I could no longer live in Camelot (well, there was really no choice given I had watched it all). Slowly, I was able regain my life with the support of my interests and hobbies, and to begin a more healthy relationship with Netflix and the TV.  I called it mono-dependent earlier since it was I that needed Netflix—it didn’t need me.  As the days grew longer, memories of that time passed, spring arrived, and before I knew it, I had a golf club in my hands.


There is a whole real world out there beyond the TV—that’s where I want to be, out exploring for myself versus through someone else’s lens. Do I get pulled in occasionally for a movie once in awhile—absolutely—but I know my limits now. Is my PVR recording a couple of good shows from cable that I watch right away once recorded—of course! I am back to my own reality though, and couldn’t be happier. I have to go now—my cat Merlin and I are about to sit down for a show.

Give Me Some Elbow Room Please!

I recently had a good friend of mine from out of town come and stay with me for a few nights. He used to live in Vancouver, in fact, we went to elementary school together. In just a few short years, we will have know each other four decades—yikes! Naturally, when past Vancouverites come back here to play, they want to visit some of their old haunts in this gorgeous and somewhat unique city. David had a few requests of sights to see and places to go, but the one thing that was on his “must do” list was to have breakfast at The Elbow Room...and as soon as he said it, my face lit up.

It all started with two gentlemen (dare I say), Patrick Savoie and Brian Searle, who created a bustling little restaurant with delicious food at reasonable prices. About 13 years after they opened in 1983, they moved to their new location, on Davie St. between Seymour and Richards, with their loyal customer base in tow, still serving up delicious feasts for breakfast and lunch as they did 30 years ago. I hadn’t been there since the late 80‘s / early 90’s when it was will over on Jervis St. in the heritage building (it was the first mayor of Vancouver’s house incidentally), so I was all over the idea.

So why so much fuss over The Elbow Room? How is this restaurant any different than the rest, and, why would David absolutely NEED to go there? Let me tell you why: they are the only place where outside of having a fantastic meal, you will have the most fun getting some friendly abuse from your server AND you can give it back as well. The menu is peppered with clues that this is somewhat of a unique dining experience, and if you don’t get the clues, you’ll figure it out soon enough via the witty servers or with Patrick and Brian (just an FYI, Patrick is the bigger trouble-maker of the two).

My first experience was in the late 80’s when as soon as you walked through the door, you were told to find yourself a table, get your own coffee, and if you didn’t eat your ENTIRE plate of food, you had to make a donation to the charity they supported. Fair enough—I can manage finding a seat and coffee, but finishing a gigantic breakfast pancake that was the size of my wall clock at home was a little challenging. Yes, I did ante-up a little cash in the end, but all for a good cause. Besides, what’s a small donation when you can have a delish meal AND have all this amazing free entertainment? I also got a full-on mocking in front of the whole restaurant because I couldn’t finish my monstrosity of a pancake—naturally, they went with “What’s a matter, it’s too big for you?”. Yep. ‘Cause that’s how they roll.

Flash back to modern day, and David and I gleefully (meaning we may have skipped from the car to the restaurant) made our way into the restaurant that fateful Sunday morning. Being the popular place it is, you can expect you may have to wait a tad for a table, but we lucked out that morning. Immediately, we were engulfed with the hustle and bustle of the servers while taking in the ample nostalgia on the walls. The hostess was gracious, and happily seated us, letting us know our server would be along any moment. We sat down and all I remember saying to David was, “What the hell is this? How come she was so nice? Are we in the right place?”. So the server comes along (she was actually a really cool girl as is all the staff there), and she’s all pleasant and stuff, she takes our order then walks away…and my jaw is on the ground. I came here to be insulted g*d-damn it! And I am older now and I can dish it out WAY better than when I was in my 20’s!

Brian, one of the owners, was the person who brought us our food, which was to die for by the way—I had the French toast—huge and delicious.  He put our plates down with a smile and says he will bring me some syrup. David could see me seething—I just couldn’t take the niceties anymore, so when he came back, I said in a loud, stern tone, “Well it took you long enough old man”. He paused for a moment, and came right back at me basically telling me to stuff it, but in a more direct, non-PG kind of way. AH-HA! Finally, the restaurant I know and love! Well, it just went from there. Then the server got in on it, and others tables around us too—although, I may have inadvertently scared a few people who did not catch on to the gist of how this place works.

If you have not been yet, I would highly recommend a visit—it’s very addictive. You will have a great experience and support a local restaurant that will make you a wonderful meal at a good price, with plenty of friendly abuse thrown in for good measure, if you so please. The main reason they are tops in my book? For their long standing, generous support to A Loving Spoonful, and for truly believing that no one with AIDS should ever go hungry.

In the end, David and I had a blast while eating a fabulous breakfast (that I did finish this time but I still made a donation anyway), throwing around friendly insults and frightening other patrons—now that’s a breakfast!

http://www.theelbowroomcafe.com

From One Canuck to Many

I had the pleasure last night to be invited to the hockey game at Rogers Arena where our beloved Vancouver Canucks were hosting the Calgary Flames. Unless you’re a season ticket holder (or friends with one) or have access to a corporate box, the tickets aren’t so easy to come by unless you’re willing to pay the large price tag attached. I usually go to one game a year, and this was the one for 2014.

I’m a Vancouverite, and have been all my life, but most of all, I’m Canadian. And to be Canadian is to not only enjoy but to also be proud of our national sport--hockey. I believe that to be a globally accepted concept given we just won Olympic Gold for both the women’s and the men’s teams in the recent 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi.

So on a glorious, rainy evening after working a long day, I stepped out with my good friend Sheila to see the game. Rogers Arena is smack on the border of Yaletown and Downtown in Vancouver. Ah yes, Yaletown--an interesting part of the city and an area that I instantly become directionally challenged in as soon as I enter. Given the insane torrential downpour, we opted for the ridiculous $40 cash parking below the arena (parking is usually much cheaper around the stadium). Funny how when I went to the KISS concert it was only $25…whatever.

I decided to wear my Markus Naslund No. 19 jersey--yes, an original on-ice jersey that you could fit two of me in, but it doubles as a handy top and a coat all in one thanks to its sturdy polyester material (it’s like a little oven in there). I wasn’t alone in my attire--sure enough, as soon as you enter the seating level of the arena, it’s just a sea of chaotic blue. We were already late thanks to the traffic, so we had missed the anthem and the pre-game show, and arrived just 5 minutes into the first period. Sheila had amazing corporate seats--lower bowl, 5 rows up from behind the Calgary net--it was fabulous. It was certainly much easier walking down those stairs in my riding boots versus the 5 inch heels I had on to see KISS!

To be clear, I know enough about hockey to understand the language, the terms, the calls, and whether to jump for joy or shout in anger. I know the players, and which ones I like...based on my terms, such as how cute they are and if they can fight. Take Kevin Bieksa for example; an awesome defenseman, a great fighter, and one very good looking guy. He’s my favourite. Stats? Not sure, but whatever he’s doing, he’s doing a great job of it. I vote for a no-touch jersey-less exhibition game some day *sigh*.

So you noticed I mentioned fighting--now, that doesn’t mean that I’m a fan of violence, but sometimes on the ice there is just cause to make a statement and that statement can only be made through a good punch or two. Besides, the refs usually break it up fairly quickly anyway. I remember taking my friend Hedieh to a game once--it was her first time seeing a hockey game live. I was a little nervous because she had never really seen “that” side of me. We were having a nice, quiet, civil conversation, and all of a sudden one of our players was pulled down with no call against the other team and a fight broke out. Well, no sooner was I talking about afternoon tea when I was on my feet with the rest of the crowd shouting obscenities at the referees. I sat back down after a minute after almost losing my voice, to simply carry on my nice conversation in a much more calmer tone, as if nothing had happend, while Hedieh just looked at me horrified.

I always am interested to see who is sitting around me in my section--that can make or break a game as a spectator. This one time, I was in one of the sections in the upper bowl (it’s usually madness up there), and by the time the game was done, half of the people in the section has been removed--but boy, was it a good time.

Our section this time was pretty quiet--well, there was the guy with Tourette’s Syndrome a few rows down from us that had a lot to say.  I was impressed by the fact that no one gave him a hard time--it was nice to see given mental illness is not always so easily understood.  Then there were the two children (sans adults) sitting in front of us, so I felt I couldn’t be my usual “x-rated-non-child-friendly” self. Lastly, there was the fellow sitting right next to me (I found out later his name was David), who in the third period, was getting calls from his 8 year old daughter, TaylorAnn, trying to figure out where her Daddy was sitting in the arena. We did make it on camera (you could see it on the jumbo-tron), so I suggested he stand up and wave when they came down the ice and the camera panned in our direction. And sure enough, I could see Sheila and myself (I was all hair--hey, it was raining out), all thanks to David, who oddly was the only person in the section wearing a solid red sweater (mmm...kind of Calgary-ish if you ask me). I would like to personally thank David for being the crazed guy in the red waving madly for no reason (that’s how it looked to everyone else in the arena) because it helped my Mom find me too, which then allowed me to make a call to her to stop all her incoming calls, saying “Where are you? I can’t see you? Are you sure you’re there?”.

Watching the game in the arena versus at home is totally different--there’s no announcer giving a play-by-play. It kind of sucks in a way, but then hey, you’ve got those uniformed hockey players right there in front of you. I was surprised how many people there were not really watching the game but just having a lot of side conversations through the whole game. When there’s a break in the game between periods, they throw on some music and get people to do dance-offs or have the little tykes from Tim Horton’s Hockey on the ice to play their game (it was just too cute). Because I’m not the least bit shy, I usually do whatever I can to get on the jumbo-tron, but, thanks to kids directly in front of us and the heavy meal I ate before the game, I wasn’t in usual form. There was one Valentine’s Day where I was stood up by one of my guy friends who was supposed to go to the game with me, and I sat next to a couple who felt sorry for me and felt alchol would be of help. Well, eight Smirnoff Ice later, and you can better believe I got on camera. One thing that was really cool during this game, was an interview they did with a lady who was celebrating her 93rd birthday! The entire arena sang happy birthday to Violet--neat. Incidentally, she happened to be in our row, so we got to personally talk to her--she was amazing for 93!

As I mentioned at the beginning, this game was against Calgary--Vancouver’s arch-nemesis. I’ve been to few of the games against Calgary, and it was always enjoyable to get the section I was sitting in to sing anything loudly enough that made Miikka Kiprusoff (Calgary’s long-time famed goalie) get off his game. Well, Mr. Kiprusoff has since retired and has been replaced with a young fellow, Joni Ortio, who, even while I was in prime seating, was just too young and innocent looking to make fun of--no one wants to see a goalie cry. I did happen to find a second-favourite player...No. 29, Tom Sestito. There’s a nice 6’5” player who looked like he could bowl through anything, and hey, he’s cute too. His name is difficult to say and made me crave tortilla chips, but when said with a Spanish accent, it works quite nicely. 

There’s no question that all these men have talent, and watching them play is like watching a finely choreographed dance (most of the time). It is truly an experience being there, seeing it all happen, especially when they win (which they did that night, 2 to 1). I will add my two humanitarian cents by saying that it does sadden me that society places such a huge spotlight on this form of entertainment along with rather ridiculously large pay cheques. It’s tough when you think about how we don’t even pay our doctors who save people’s lives a fraction of what a professional sports person or actor/actress gets paid. Do I watch movies? Yes. Do I attend an occasional hockey game? Absolutely. So I suppose I could be called a hypocrite then, but it certainly is some food for thought. 

Perhaps it’s best to look at all the good that comes from the support we give our hockey team--the charitable organizations like Canuck Place, and all the support our Canuck players personally give to our children in need who are eternally grateful. Even the joy that Fin, our Canuck’s creepy orca-headed-man-mascot-guy (they should just give him a full orca suit already), brings to the kids--whether it’s in a hospital or in the arena.

Thank you, Vancouver Canucks, for the smiles and fun--your fans love you. Now win the f*cking Cup already please.

My New Furry Bundles of Joy...aka THE FELLOWS

In July last year, my beloved cat Dexter passed away and my home felt empty and lonely without him. The time was right in December last year to fill that void, so I popped on to the net to see how things looked. I will say that I struggled with the thought of not going to a shelter--it’s not my style to not go to one, after all, that’s where most of my animals in the past had come from, and will again someday. This time, I wanted to do things differently.

I wanted a kitten--but a unique one. After a little research, I discovered the lynx breed was for me. Initially, I contacted a fellow in Alaska, and when he sent me pictures of an actual full desert lynx kitten (he was only 4 months old and already 50 cm from nose to tail!) that was playing with a live porcupine, I had to decline. I would like a pet that won’t eat me as a late night snack while I’m sleeping, please. I eventually found Trilhouette Heritage Farms (http://www.trilhouetteheritagefarms.com), run by two wonderful ladies that breed domesticated lynx cats. I drove all the way out to Mission--eek--it’s far, but well worth it, because as soon as I walked through the door and saw Merlin for the first time, I knew he was mine. I’ve always had black cats in my life since I was little, so why would my 40’s be any exception? He was a gorgeous, black desert lynx who stared up into my eyes when I picked him up. Yes, he was the one. He wasn’t ready to come with me just yet, and I was taking a trip to see my Grandparents, so we agreed that the beginning of December was perfect timing.

When I returned from my trip, out to Mission I went again, this time with my Mom in tow. My parents have always been part of big events in my life, and this was no different. The intention was to only get one--Merlin--but I ended up coming home with two. Magi was the other black kitten there--they were from two separate litters and two different breeds (both lynx)--he was so sweet and appeared to be taking care of Merlin. He would affectionately come over to me, rub up against me, and look at me with those big, adorable eyes. How could I do it--leave the last one behind when he was so diligently looking after his little friend and working his magic on me? And so, with a stunned look from my Mom, I packed them both into the cat traveller. What can I say, I went with my gut. As a point of interest, it takes MORE than two cats to make one a crazy cat lady, just incase you were wondering.

And home we drove from Mission that night, bringing them into their new home, or, as they would call it if they could, Disneyland. You have to see my place to understand that these cats, which are part wildcat, could see it as a curious paradise--plants and trees everywhere, nooks and crannies of all sorts in each room...you see my point.

The first night.

The first night I camped out on the sofa so they could just settle in the one space versus having a plethora of rooms to create mischief in. And, after they had a good sniff around, to sleep they finally fell, together in the little bed I bought (remember, there was only supposed to be one).

These guys are special--they are each a mixed breed of domestic cat and jungle cat or bobcat. Merlin is a desert lynx and Magi is a highland lynx. The are both black melanistic lnyx which is a rare colour--they have really neat ghost spots that can only be seen in the light. They also both have polydactyl feet (Merlin on all four and Magi on his front), essentially giving them little hands, if you will. Given their breeds, they will grow to an above-average size relative to the typical domestic cat--about 18 to 20 lbs each. I knew this going in, so that means I have no right to complain one day when I have 40 lbs worth of cat trying to take a nap on me. Incidentally, they have grown exponentially since I got them...it’s a tad worrisome.

Magi having a snooze.

What amazing little personalities they have! Magi is true to his name--he is the protector, the watchful eye--he is graceful, majestic, and is a little more wound up. He has a good healthy appetite, and refuses to be manhandled. He watches over Merlin, cleans him on occasion, and will steal food and treats from him in a heartbeat. Magi also likes to stalk and kill his treats before batting and chasing them around the house, then finally devouring them. If you decide to infringe on his feast, he will growl full-on, which, when I heard that the first time, I was a little concerned. 

Merlin having a stretch.

Merlin is the laid back boy--he’s my Dexter re-incarnated. He rubs his gums on everything, especially my computer, he tries to escape out the front door every chance he gets, and he and I have hugs each morning, just like Dexter and I used to. He’s a bit clumsy and does not have the poise or prowess that Magi seems to have--he’s just a cuddly ball of fur.

They are certainly living up to the cat-like nature of destroying my bath time by making sure I am nicely settled in my beautifully scented bath first before each taking a big sh*t in the litter while I am helpless in the tub. They are definitely nocturnal like most cats, and in such a short time, have already mastered the art of running across my face in the middle of the night routine. Sitting over my breathing passages will be next I’m sure.

Together, they spell trouble with a capital T. I knew that going in--they would keep each other company, in good times and bad. The fact that nothing has been destroyed in my home as of yet (and we’re going on to month No. 3) is a miracle, or the best is yet to come--we’ll see. They have an over-abundance of toys that light up, squeak, etc. and they are so much fun to watch. It’s so good to know that all the money spent on toys becomes redundant when you can throw down a bottle cap or a brown paper bag that cost nothing and it’s way more exciting than the expensive toys. And anything can become a toy--including my Betsey Johnson rings, so I found out. The breeders did a fantastic job training them to scratch on the scratching pads, so my furniture is safe from their very sharp little dagger-like claws (fingers crossed). I have yet to venture into the territory of attempting to trim them--it needs to happen soon though. Apparently to them, my hands are fun things to play with while I’m sleeping--not so easy to explain to clients the next day when it looks like I don't know how to use my cutlery.

My home feels alive again, and I couldn’t be happier. Am I seriously sleep deprived and concerned for my overall well-being at night? Yes, I am. It doesn’t matter though--having these two beautiful creatures, to love and take care of is a joy all of its own. I believe in life being able to connect with life--no matter what species--the animal kingdom demonstrates that to us all the time. I feel lucky that I’ve already established an amazing connection with Merlin and Magi (aka: The Fellows)--one that I know will last a very, very long time.

Gaining "Sight" On What I Am Grateful For

Today is a day where we celebrate everything in our lives that makes us give thanks. I’ve had a couple of experiences as of late that made me really stop and think of what exactly I’m grateful for. Where do I start? The question of “What are you thankful for in life?” is almost impossible to answer without it sounding like a cliche. So, how DO I answer that exactly?

Of course, I think I have THE most wonderful parents. Do they make me crazy? Yes! But I love them with all my heart. We’re a small but mighty family, if you will--extremely close and we truly enjoy each other’s company for certain periods of time (I’m just saying what everyone is thinking about when they spend too much time with their family). My Dad just went through a major operation that made me realize exactly how mortal we are and that we are not here for an endless period of time and moreover, how important it is to always let each other know how you feel. Some people don’t have any family at all, and if they do, they may be treated horribly or have been abandoned by them. I feel very lucky to have the family that I do.

I have also been blessed with a beautiful daughter who faces life with the adversity of autism. She is the bravest and most incredible person I know. This is someone who has taught me the true meaning of compassion and understanding, which transcends to the rest of my world, and has helped me become the person I am. How fortunate am I to be her mother.

I also literally don’t know what I would do without the amazing friends I have. My friends have come into my life at different times, and I cherish them all, because to me, they are an extension of my family and I would be lost without them. I have a favourite saying: “The best things in life aren’t things.” To me, they are the people and experiences in my life that make me who I am and always make me strive to be a better person. I think of all the “things” I have and yes, naturally I enjoy my wardrobe with the plethora of clothes, handbags, and shoes in it. I love my home and all the comforts I’ve put into call it a home. I like using all my gadgets, driving my car, and taking trips. I work hard to have those “things” and it’s all great, don’t get me wrong BUT if you took everything away from me, at the end day--just give me my family and my friends.

Mmmm...wait just a moment. Maybe there are a few other things I am thankful for now that I think about it. And it was this experience that took me to that stage of recognition:

My friend Sheila was kind enough to take me out for dinner on my birthday a few weeks back. We collaborated on where we wanted to go, and agreed upon a restaurant called Dark Table. This restaurant concept is all over the world and is quite a unique dining experience. Why? Well, you eat your meal in absolute and total darkness--it’s literally pitch black. No light of any sort. So, just to clarify, you do order your food ahead of time where you can see the menu. Your server (all the servers are visually impaired) meets you at the door outside and then you follow him or her into the restaurant or rather into the abyss as I like to say. No joke, you can’t see a thing.

After the server guided us to our table and we were finally seated, we had to feel around to see where everything was--it was very, very weird. It sounded like a normal restaurant, with other patrons chatting away and music in the background. When it came to buttering my bread, I didn’t spread it properly, so I ate the whole pad of butter in one go...ick! I could not for the life of me figure out what the hell the appetizer was. Given there is no “feeling” at the end of a utensil, I almost shoved four ravioli up my nose and couldn’t tell if I even finished my plate of food. I kept putting an empty spoon up to my mouth during dessert. It’s funny, because everyone was eating in the dark and no one could see me, I started to relax to the point where I was licking the seasoning salt quite vivaciously off the glass of my caesar. I also finally used my fingers to eat the dessert purely out of frustration.

From a sensory perspective, I realized exactly how much I rely on my vision to help me enjoy food. The food was good, but there was something missing from the experience--I get visual pleasure out of seeing what I am about to eat (most of the time). I also use my vision to help me think--I felt kind of stupid and lost not only while poking around for my food, but just in general. I could hear Sheila’s voice, but couldn’t see her facial expressions or her body language--things I often use to pick up non-verbal cues when communicating. I did become totally and utterly relaxed after the meal, but logic would dictate that after eating big meal while sitting in complete darkness, one would just want to fall asleep right then and there in the chair. Outside of upsetting the person you’re with, what would stop you?

The perfect ending to this experience was when we left. Our server came to get us up from the table--Sheila was behind me and I was behind him, or so I thought. I walked right into him and he was actually facing me. Awkward moment? Of course not! We just hugged for a bit...closely (interestingly enough that seems to be my modus operandi these days). And just as we were about to enter back into the land of the seeing, I gave the server one last hug and a peck on the cheek, and there it was--my sight was back in all it’s glory.  How fortunate were we to know that after dinner, we would have our sight again.

And there you have it. Outside of friends and family, I am eternally grateful and thankful for my health--to have all my senses fully functional. I can see all the bright and bold colours of the autumn leaves on the trees right now. I can hear the beautiful sound of my daughter’s voice when she says “I love you Mom”. I can touch and hold my Grandma’s hand, a hand that helped me learn how to crochet and cook. I can taste the salt on my skin when I swim freely in the open ocean. I have everything and recognize that every day.


And lastly, we can’t forget the sense that is not so “common”...

There is so much good in this world, and so much of the time, it gets masked by the bad. I am perhaps one of the few people on this planet who doesn’t have cable, and I love it. I also choose not to watch the news (I keep tabs with the on-line financial news only due to my job in the financial industry) and I like it that way. I receive good news stories through social media channels like Twitter or Facebook, where I can surround myself with all the beautiful happiness that is out there. Someone said to me once that I’m just sticking my head in the sand, and yes, perhaps I am to some degree. Much of what the Dalai Lama does resonates with me and I do the same. He said that in a difficult situation, he recognizes the tragedy within it, feels the pain of it for a moment, and then lets it go. I do recognize the bad that goes on around me and in the world, and I do feel the hurt, the pain, the suffering for that person, animal, etc., but then I let it go. I never hang on to it, because it doesn’t help to do that. I find other ways to help the situation instead, if I can (I’ll be writing a blog post on homelessness shortly that explains this concept in greater detail).

Every single person has the ability to be loving, kind, compassionate and understanding to our fellow humans, and to all living things (except spiders and snakes...just kidding, or am I?), including our mother Earth. It’s a choice--I’ve seen and heard of people who have faced extreme adversity in their lives only to overcome those odds and become a better person. I am so grateful for being able to recognize that I am not the center of the universe, and that I can do so much to help the lives of those around me. That might not seem like a typical thing to be grateful for, but as you may already have discovered, I am light years from typical.


Happy Thanksgiving!