Several years ago I gave this book to my mother as a Christmas gift. This holiday season while visiting family I saw it on the bookshelf and decided to read it myself. It was chosen because my mother is a musician and a lover of art. Having lived in Europe as a pre-teen, I have memories of my mother taking me around to well known art galleries, showing me well known works of art, and whispering in my ear or sharing with me the reasons why a particular painting was so famous, or controversial, or cutting edge for its time. This book is staged around the famous painting Mona Lisa, which I saw first when my parents took me to the Louvre during the four years we lived in Belgium. Paris and France is only a short skip away from Belgium. The narrator is none other than Mona Lisa, and Kalogridis has written a fast paced, intriguing historical fiction account about the time period in which Da Vinci painted this piece of art, the woman in the frame, and her life surrounded by a mix if loving, creepy, controlling, concerned, self-serving and mysterious people. A time period during which a women's servants could be her best friends, Kalogridis teaches the reader that there are secrets hidden within generations, but the secrets will always come to light.
Within the context of being a post-modern traveller and writer, Potts takes the reader through chapters of stories, each dedicated to an individual experience he has had after having vagabonded about the globe for a decade. This book provides an interesting and didactic structure through which Potts uses current academic research to affirm his narrative choices, as he shares his experiences about travel. Most of this writing has been published elsewhere and this book is a collection of assorted stories that offers Potts to teach the reader about travel writing within the context of vagabonding, academic research, and individualized learning through experience. A great read and one that is worth looking at again if you are a travel writer.
This was a book I could not put down and spent several nights in a row during my Christmas holidays staying up far too late to finish it. Every morning I would wake up and wonder what it would be like to not remember anything, the panic, the fear, the attempts at reconciling information others gave about who I might be and how I came to have no memory of such a person. The main character suffers from such a plight as has no memory of her life or who she may be. As the book moved on, Watson, the author, shocks the reader with a few surprises and as the reader, I could not help but try to find a part in the book when the heroine understands her life through the journal she is keeping. Read this book for the excitement and nervousness that will seep through your imagination.
Last year around this time, November 2011, I went to a conference and W. Brett Wilson was the keynote speaker. He told the story of his life, including the ruination of his relationships due to the amount of work he was completing while making millions of dollars (follow link to hear this story). While rebuilding his relationships he has told his family that he will answer their calls at anytime, and then his phone rings during his keynote speaker address. He answers it, tells his dad he is in the middle of a speech in front of 400 people, and that he will call back in ten minutes, then hangs up. I tell this story a lot as, in our society, we are still learning how to interact with people, electronics and social media in socially appropriate ways. Here is an example contrary to much of what I have established as socially acceptable, and yet Brett's decision to put his family first makes sense.
This evening I was asked to attend a fundraising concert at which my nephew was performing with his touring choir. I love seeing my nieces and nephews perform and gladly agreed. My father, sister, brother-in-law and I went to the dinner and concert and the performers were the most eclectic mix I have ever encountered. As it turned out, this was a philanthropic evening organized by Brett Wilson and his staff in order to raise money for the Calgary Veterans Food Bank. Here was this former Dragon's Den millionaire who had made his money in gas and oil doing more work in the community. As I looked around I saw a former mayor of Calgary, a few CBC reporters, a Calgary Stampeder (this person was pointed out to me), and several other faces I knew from around Calgary but could not name. This evening while listening to seven different artistic acts we raised $95,000 dollars, $20 of which was mine. I did not expect such professional and well connected musicians or audience members, instead I was anticipating a junior high school type performance. What a night! This is why I write a little, read and little and get up and live a lot. The living part is just so enjoyable and filled with surprises.
The performers are below with comments about my favourite parts of the evening. What a joyous night to be a part of and I did enjoy rubbing elbows everyone in attendance, and I will return next year.
Boys Choir
They performed several pieces written by Benjamin Britten a challenging composer who wrote in the UK around and after World War Two. They were delightful and Brett Wilson actually won a performance by the choir at another charity auction and used the performance he won to earn more money for even more charities. This is a smart man.
Brett Kissel Official website
He is a talented and young country singer who wrote a song in protest of the NHL lockout on behalf of fans, 'Hockey, Please Come Back'. Rumour has it, it is somewhat viral at this point. An interesting micx of songs with several poignant ones written for his grandparents.
Shane Koyczan
I had no idea who this man was but I have been exposed to modern forms of poetry, including poetry slams and the spoken word. He performed at the Vancouver Olympic opening ceremonies with 'We Are More' a tribute to Canada, and is working hard to spread the word about clinical depression and dealing with bullying. His love poems were equal parts hilarious, thoughtful and enchanting.
One of his funny and brief poems:
The Stellas Official Website
A group whose name I was familiar with but whom I had never heard. We were fortunate enough to hear both Brad and Marylynne and their two children, Lennon and Maisy, who recently made a video that went viral and earned them a spot on Good Morning America. As two duos they are incredibly musical, gentle performers and talented people. As a quartet, they sang a few lovely Christmas songs and brought others up on stage to share the spirit of the season.
Here is one of there most beautiful videos which Marylynne wrote after finding a book of love poems written back and forth from soldiers to loved ones back home during World War Two. A moving piece of work:
Also performing were Christian Laurian and his sister Malia Ashely Kerr. Lastly, we received an operatic performance by Sara Staples along with her accompanist, Nathaniel Schmidt.
Such a delightful night that surpassed my expectations.
This past October I took a chance to drive from Winnipeg, Manitoba to Jasper, Alberta....OK, I was headed to an academic conference and I couldn't afford to fly so 'took a chance' might be over stating a bit. I had to drive. While in the mountains I was reminded how much I love them and how lucky people are who live near them. When they were in my backyard I certainly did not take advantage of them as much as I should have.
During my drive I pulled over repeatedly for about two hours on the way home, taking pictures, feeling the peace and quiet, and watching the daylight play on the scenes before my eyes. Here are a few shots that I played with on my computer that remind me of the old postcards you can buy in tourists shops. Pictures such at these can also be seen on the walls in the old Canadian Pacific hotels as framed tributes to the historical past. These are new though, and mine.
These are the types of cakes Cheri dreams up and creates.
A pirate ship arriving from a water land of cupcakes to a desert land of 'sand' cupcakes on which the pirates will fight with the skeleton crew who have a treasure. Yep. She makes the fabulous creations and then we, her grateful family-in-law, have the audacity to eat them. Truly they should be encased on glass and put on display in a museum. Instead, we eat them. We (un)grateful lot.
The pirate ship is made from rice-crispie treats wrapped in moulded tootsie roll. The masts are cookies.
The water and sand are cupcakes with delicious icing and candies on them. The desert has icing which is them dipped on pulverized graham crackers. So yummy!
In addition to the cake she made cross-bone cookies...because they are so simple to create (?).
The skeletons guarding their treasure
'Come get us and our treasure pirates!'
The pirates descend in a ship to advance towards the booty.
Prepared to fight!
Who will win?!?
This summer I confessed to Cheri that I have a fantastic business idea. She is going to make cakes like these and I am going to sell them. Thusly she and my brother must stay together always, and she needs to make cakes faster...or we can hire minions to create the cakes while she dreams them up. Either way my plan will take some convincing and she just laughed every time I mentioned our new joint venture. There is some work and convincing yet to be done. Wish us luck with our booty!
It happened again this year. The Richard and Miranda pig roast. This does not mean we roasted Richard, Miranda and a pig, this means that Richard and Miranda bought a pig and roasted it for some added summer fun, which has been occurring for 4-5 years now.
Usually the roast occurs around the August long weekend and I was one of the lucky many who watched, visited, partook and played at this years roast. First, my sister Zoe and I went over for a peek earlier in the morning to see how the pig was being roasted.
Glen and Jeremy visited at the same time.
Richard explained to Zoe and I that he uses the slow cook method during which the pig is roasted over 7-8 hours but with only 1 or 2 smaller pieces of cedar added to the fire slowly over time. Either way I am glad he cooks the pig. A quick visit was enough for me as I have a woozy stomach. I eat meat but I really don't like watching the raw version in full form being cooked. Hypocrite I know.
Time to carve the pig. Once again, Richard and Miranda have a butcher friend complete this part. Phew! Glad each cousin doesn't have to take a turn each year or I would be carving a tofu pig in 2018 for the family. :)
Bonjour Monsieur Pig
The pig. His cooker. His carver.
Senya and Wyona posing with some food
At about 12 pm it was time to begin gathering all the food that had been slaved over during the course of the day. Our family property now has 5 cabins full of family members in them. Each house was asked to bring two salads. When you consider that in the Bates cabin alone there are 25 people and there are just as many people in each of the other cabins, that is a lot of people and a large amount of food. The picture above is merely one of three large tables full of food on which we dined.
Thomas trying out the fresh apple juice Uncle David made
I can not tell you the deliciousness of Arta's freshly baked bread. I stood for a while trying to capture the texture, the flavour, the smell, and the bouncy-ness of her bread. This picture is not bad but I shall have to try again next summer. Fresh bread, one of the delights of each meal.
My father Greg bragging to us about my mother Wyona's painting skills.
This summer it was decided that we were all going to sit down and try our hands at Chinese Brush Painting. Now you may wonder where in the world a caucasian Canadian family would learn the skills of an ancient art form from a country on the other side of the world. This is a good question. My mother. When my father obtained his job as Canadian Trade Commissioner with the Foreign Service we began traveling. First to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, then on to Manila, Philippines. While we were abroad we had hired house help which left my stay-at-home mother with some time to pursue other pursuits. One she chose was Chinese Brush Painting whose art influence obviously extended beyond the borders of China, and at which my mother excelled. While she was a teacher, and while I taught, she would show her and my students the basics.
Wyona demonstrating the fine art of bamboo painting
One always starts with bamboo and after several months the new learner is allowed to progress to roses. Since time was limited (the summer was coming to a close), we had a 15 minute bamboo lesson, followed by a 15 minute rose lesson. We practiced for several hours and some of us faired pretty well, creating almost realistic foliage.
Zach doing very well with bamboo stalks
One of the main pieces of information that Wyona always tells the learner is that this type of painting is single stroke with diluted paint. You make one stroke, them move on. You do not go over your work again and again, bad, naughty. The depth of the painting comes from the variations in hues of the paint through the single strokes, from dark to medium to light colour contrasts. Two essential art details.
Needed: water, paint, a place to dilute colours
Sabrina showing us the seriousness of art and bamboo
Alicia focusing on her roses
Then there were those of us who may need a few more summers to get to the Chinese painting part, yet enjoyable images were still created.
Chinese-Canadian-American rainbow?
The serious faces of each mini-artist is so perfect
The group is deep concentration with their roses
We did have a great time and learned that you throw away the first 3-45 sketches, even though they may look anywhere from pretty crappy to not too bad. It is tough to let go of ones art when it has just been completed and a part of ones heart is in it. Another summer, after more practice, we shall save and frame several pieces. Only 41 more practices to go. Until then, we have a semi-professional in our midst guiding our learning and visuals of her work to motivate us.
In my family we do not celebrate Mother's Day, we celebrate Wyona's Day. As my mother, Wyona has always said that we should not revere, praise, adore, and enjoy our mother's only one day a year but every day of the year. With this instilled in us as teenagers, we continue to celebrate our altered version of this yearly holiday as a family.
This year my mother was on a cruise in some remote sea or ocean and unreachable. Family members did send emails with funny stories, witty responses, best memories, and the like. Wyona thanked us and we each took time to think about the amazing woman that raised seven children while moving all over the world, country to country. She has survived by pure will as we are all different, unique and challenging (yet so entertaining) as children and now as adults.
As an homage to Wyona I rented a movie last week that reminded me of her. You see, she is addicted to old time movies. 1940's musicals, dance films of the 1950's, and black and white, silver screen movies of the early 1900's. When she has time, is sewing or completing small jobs we all have to do to keep life going, she is watching Turner Classic Movies (TCM). When I am in town I plop on the couch, chat, watch, listen, chat more, watch again. These movies always have and always will remind me of my amazing mother.
The other day at the library I realized I can rent videos for $1.20 so I grabbed a few. When I saw, The Barkleys of Broadway (1949), I missed my mum and had to watch it. From the film education I received from her, I know there are few musical and dance combinations in the world of film like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. It was the perfect choice.
The dance scene of the two of them, he in a tux, she is a flowing white dress, I watched three times. The plot presents them as a somewhat agreeable married couple known for there stage talent, have split up because Ginger's character wants to try dramatic stage acting rather than the comedy they have repeatedly performed. They split up as a couple and he woes her back with this Gershwin song and dance number (with a little help from the friend that introduces the scene.) Such talent, poise, feet movement and ability. I am grateful to have a mother that has taught me many things, one of which is an appreciation of older entertainment that remains relevant and enjoyable to watch.
I suggest you watch it once and keep your eyes on Fred Astaire, then watch it again and keep your eyes on Ginger Rogers. He is so smooth, and she appears as delicate as a flower and knows when to grab her skirt and give it a flip to get it moving. Love this musical! Love these types of movies!
Enjoy the wee scene snippet from the movie!
Love your mum!
Enjoy her every day!
Rick Steves, a travel guru who has opened up and interpreted European travel to North Americans for 30 years, has written a new book titled Travel as a Political Act. It is on order at the library for me. I am the first person in line and very excited to read it. In addition to the book there is a blog and a video and audio recording of a speech given in California, available through ABC TV.
While I did not agree with everything he said in this video, I do agree with the ability travel has to remind us that our human condition is far more similar than different, and other people who appear different that you or I are not scary and to be feared, but interesting individuals from who we can learn a great deal. Different lives. Different choices. Travel changes your perceptions if you are willing to open to its lessons and get off the beach of a first world resort supplanted in a developing nation. Get off the beach. Be brave. Go further.
To all people who want to be a travel writer: this will broaden the knowledge you have of what this work may hold for you. With Lonely Planet and its professional cohorts the budgets are smaller than you might think, the deadlines arrive sooner than you thought, and rather than enjoying a beach, restaurant, cathedral or art gallery you may be busy gathering data. This data may include open and closing hours, costs of entrance, what type of travellers visit this place, and food menus. Thomas Kohnstamm plays by the book and does not take freebees at the beginning of his trip. Then his budget runs out and he must create means of raising funds to complete his trip and writings of Brazil, including finding and taking any freebees possible. The mayhem he finds himself in is astounding and the way he able to deal with the issues is equally hilarious....well, at times scary with the black eyes to prove his travel struggles. Despite his struggles and frustration with Lonely Planet, he continues to travel and write for this organization. He is a nomad at heart and can not lose his thirst for movement around the world. He is an entertaining and funny writer who uses approachable language. Check out this book and his written works for Lonely Planet for stories that will make you laugh, gawk in shock, and shake your head in surprise.
Best parts of the book:
This book is not intended to be an expose and it is not intended to discourage the purchase of use of travel guidebooks. I almost always take a guidebook with me when I travel, and it invariably helps me in some way that makes it worth its price and worth its weight in my pack. It is my hope that this book will help to demystify the origins of travel writing and show that when thousands of travellers follow a guidebook word-for-word, recommendation-for-recommendation, in not only harms contemporary international travel but can also do serious harm to places in developing countries. Maybe if people see what arbitrary bullshit goes into the making of a guidebook, they will realize that it is just a loose tool to give basic information and is not singular or necessarily the correct way to approach a destination. p. 3
So, travel writing, like any job, has its issues. However, travel writing is particularly disorienting since you are expected to work in a tourist environment that is built for pleasure. You must find a way to make yourself effective in that peculiar limbo between work and play.....We travel writers live in perpetual motion. Relationahips are transitory and fleeting. Friendships, even more so. Home is where you are on a given night. It is at once glamorous and pathetic, exciting and perversely routine. The longer you do it, the harder it is to return to normal life, and one day you wake up and realize that the road is your permanent address. There's no going back. p. 3-4
The majority of travel book fall into three basic groups: 1. There are the earnest writers who become enlightened through contact with the simple, honest live of Mexican peasants or the unparalleled tranquility of the Tuscan countryside. A more holistic approach to life is discovered and the universe is balanced....2. On the opposite side of the spectrum are the smug writers who mock how backward plumbing and transportation are anywhere outside of North America....3. Last but no least are the Charlie Bronson guys who attempt solo ascent of mouton without telling anyone where they're going, are forced to amputate their appendages with a sport, and then expect us to appreciate their triumph of human spirit. p. 54
"Parachute Artist" is a name given to a certain type of travel writer, particularly itinerant guidebook writers. Tony Wheeler, the founder of Lonely Planet, defines a parachute artist as "someone who can drop into a place and quickly assimilate, who can write about anywhere." You must be able to wake up in Thai Hill Country, Kaliningrad, the Ganges Delta...or Port Moresby and quickly wrap your head around the place. You must determine its character and capture the so-called zeitgeist in a way that can be explained in a 300-word section introduction and 250-word city and regional introductions - even if you've never set foot on that continent before. You must find the best accommodations, activities, restaurants, and practicalities; write pseudosagacious, balanced reviews on all of them; and then flip the channel to the next destination and do the same thing all over again. Efficiency is of the essence. p. 73
Over the years I have had many friends and family members organize and celebrate wonderful birthdays with me. Twenty-one roses and 10 helium balloons, a wake, surprise dinners, distracting movies to a surprise party, 24 cupcakes a cake and many family members, and many more wonderful events.
As my 40th birthday approached I wanted it to be memorable and a real celebration of life and the many wonderful experiences it can posses. As my brain is wont to do, it connected the dots and in a flash I decided I was going to try and do 40 new and/or fun things in 40 days. Since that seemed a little long and I am poor (in graduate school), the idea shrunk down to 40 fun or new things in 40 hours, faster, zippier, smaller time frame, shorter things. The planning began.
I sent out invites asking friends and family to send me ideas and let me know if they wanted to do something specifically with me. Many friends contacted me and participated in the planning. At one point I was ready to give up but my Love Manitoba friend's, Christa and Stephanie, would not let me. They planned much of the last minute new things and saved the day! As well, my sister Lurene flew in from Calgary for the weekend and things I had done before became new because I was doing them with my sister for the first time (freebees). See how this works. None of these new things have to be huge, they just have to be inventive and creative.
So in the end, this is the list, most of which occurred the actual evening of my birthday, March 31 at King's Head Pub in Winnipeg.
40 Fun New or Fun Things in 40 Hours:
1. Drinking Chololate
2. Eating Manitoba
3. Eating Bacon Bark
4. Backwards lunch (started with dessert, ended with main course)
5. Wore steel coloured nail polish
6. Had Henna done on my hands
7. Went rock climbing in Manitoba (indoors, there are no mountains or hills to climb here)
8. Attempted geo-caching
9. Received a flower delivery at home (thanks Marcia!)
10. Visited the crazy purple poster shop at the end of Osbourne Village
(turns out it is not my type of shop)
12. Received a mug from my sister (caveat: Marcia - another sister - gave me a mug when I was 19 with her picture on it so I would not miss her. I still use this mug but I received it on Christmas morning, not on my birthday.)
13. I was hit on by a random stranger on Facebook on my birthday (thank you some guy named Richard or Raymond or something)
I, Mona Lisa by Jeanne Kalogridis
