tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45868856869242653562024-03-12T20:20:13.045-07:00Arbiter ElegantiaeAn eclectic blog dedicated to the ongoing celebration of fashion, film, literature, and all other good things.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.comBlogger149125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-89518908867160177462012-03-08T17:52:00.000-08:002012-03-08T17:52:42.534-08:00The parts they left out of Free WillyA couple of weeks ago while I was home I decided to watch some Blue Planet. While I was watching, something became glaringly apparent: Killer Whales are the sadistic sociopaths of the sea.<br />
<br />
Seriously though, those things are awful. There's a reason why no one calls them "Orcas".<br />
<br />
First off, they hunt baby seals. The Killer Whales will hang out near the shore and wait for the seals who are trying to learn how to swim. They will then ride the waves up to the beach, snatch the baby seal, and then drag it out to deeper water.<br />
<br />
But that's not the end, oh no.<br />
<br />
After that, the pod will throw the still-alive baby seal back and forth using their teeth. They will keep doing this until after it has died, and only then will they actually eat the poor thing. No one knows why they do this, as it doesn't seem to serve any function besides perverse entertainment.<br />
<br />
Secondly, they torture Grey Whales.<br />
<br />
Female Grey Whales will give birth to their calves in the South, and then migrate with their young to the North for feeding purposes. The baby whales are just learning to swim and tire much more quickly than the adults. What Killer Whale pods will do is follow a mother and baby. They will chase them until the baby is exhausted and has to be lifted to the water's surface by the mother just to breathe. Then, when both mother and baby are vulnerable, they will attack, separating mother from child. Their method of killing the little whale is to push it underwater until it drowns, then rip it apart. This process takes days (possibly weeks), and in the end the Killer Whales only ate the baby Grey Whale's jaw, and left the rest of its body for scavengers.<br />
<br />
So next time you're watching Free Willy, reconsider who you want to root for. Think about <i>exactly</i> what Jesse is unleashing on the ocean.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-66316332671800453072012-02-13T15:22:00.155-08:002012-03-08T17:35:40.610-08:00If Chivalry Wasn't Dead Before, It Sure Is Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YHy9rWSeXgs/Tzmet5BlbDI/AAAAAAAAAk4/4sz3UjtbzR8/s1600/Screen+shot+2012-02-13+at+3.36.35+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YHy9rWSeXgs/Tzmet5BlbDI/AAAAAAAAAk4/4sz3UjtbzR8/s320/Screen+shot+2012-02-13+at+3.36.35+PM.png" width="317" /></a></div><br />
You may have noticed it's been a long time since my last post. The short version of the story is that life has been on the quiet side lately and there hasn't been anything worth writing about.<br />
<br />
But now that I'm back in Toronto I seem to have found the motivation to write again, and this post in particular is dedicated to my colossal failure of a romantic life. Where to even start? I guess I'll begin with the shinanigans which ultimately led to my total loss of faith in men.<br />
<br />
You already know how unlucky I was in Europe when it came to dating. I'm sorry to say that this didn't change when I returned to North America. I had hoped that moving from my small town in BC to Toronto would make dating easier, and for a while it almost seemed to. While at a work party with my cousin in November I happened to be introduced to a friend of her boyfriend's. We got to talking and seemed to really click. Despite having ample opportunity to politely leave, we wound up chatting for most of the night. When it came time for him to go, he said goodbye to his friends and then came back to say goodbye to me.<br />
<br />
Due to a hectic work schedule and a badly-timed sickness we didn't see each other over the next two weeks, but then we (my cousin, her boyfriend, myself, and this guy) arranged to meet up for a movie and dinner. We wound up catching a Hitchcock (North by Northwest) at the TIFF Lightbox, which was really excellent. We discovered afterwards that the cinema we were in was the one that has a seat named after me (long story), and he helped me find it and then offered to take a picture. We all went out for dinner after that, and it was really enjoyable. The conversation was great and totally effortless.<br />
<br />
When it was time to say goodbye he asked for my number, and about twenty minutes later he texted to say that he had a great time and that he would look into a director I had mentioned so we could discuss it "next time". I took that to mean that he had enjoyed the double-date as much as I had.<br />
<br />
That weekend I was off to New York and out of touch. Once I got back I deliberated on whether to get in touch or not, and my sister wound up convincing me that the courteous thing to do was message to say I was back in the country. So, I sent a quick message to say I was back in town.<br />
<br />
And then I never heard from him again. Not once. Nothing.<br />
<br />
I feel fairly justified in saying "WTF?!" By this point I have accepted that - as my sister so <i>sensitively</i> put it - he just wasn't into me. While this is absolutely a reality in life and I'm no stranger to it, it bothers me that my judgement was so completely off. I'm also annoyed that he asked for my number and sent a misleading text message. What's the goddamn point? It wasn't helping anyone, especially not me.<br />
<br />
After that things stayed pretty quiet. The only other guy I was remotely interested in had struck up a relationship just prior to my arrival in Toronto. Talk about lost causes. Then it was back to BC.<br />
<br />
The real breaking point for me came right before Valentine's Day. Two days before, to be exact. I had been invited out to dinner in the city by a guy I had met in Germany. We had stayed in touch over the course of my travels, and when I came back to BC (before leaving for Toronto in November) we saw each other again. When I told him I was in BC again he suggested we meet up. And, in case you're wondering, it was very unambiguously a date.<br />
<br />
Initially I had doubts about making all the effort to come into the city just for a date. I generally don't feel that it's good to go far out on a limb for someone you're seeing extremely casually. However, in the time I had known him he'd always been exceptionally polite, considerate, and really not at all like an early-twenties guy. So, I decided to go.<br />
<br />
We were in touch that day during my trip over (it takes a few hours, including a ferry) and all seemed well. Luckily my sister and her boyfriend were in the city as well, so I killed some time with them during the afternoon. Then, an hour or so before our planned date, he abruptly cancelled. There were plenty of excuses that came along with the cancellation, none of which that were the least bit legitimate. So, I turned around and went home, having wasted an entire day travelling for nothing.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, it really sucked. I felt like an idiot for having gone so out of my way for someone who apparently couldn't care less. And right before Valentine's Day too. As far as bad dating stories go, getting stood up around that time of year is pretty awful. Thanks for letting me know I'm totally disposable! I mentioned in an earlier post that my New Years Resolution was to adjust how I think about myself and thereby develop better self-esteem. And until Valentine's Day I was doing really well. It's a tricky process though, and what little progress I made got pretty decimated by my non-date.<br />
<br />
So after that I was pretty down. A day or two later I met for coffee with a wonderful friend of mine, and we got to talking about my inability to date successfully. At some point in the conversation internet dating came up - something I've always resisted. I have a lot of friends who are on one site or another (often Plenty of Fish), and they're reviews have been largely positive. I don't really have anything against online dating, but I'm such a believer in meeting in person that it's never appealed to me. My friend did an excellent job of talking it up though. From where I'm standing it has felt as though a primary impediment to meeting guys is that I don't have all that much in common with guys my age. I've already finished school, done my travelling, and started working on my career, and few people I meet share that timeline. I'm sick of dealing with guys who don't know what they want or who are only interested in non-committal hooking up. As an added "bonus", when I meet older guys who I have more in common with they always turn out to be married or in relationships. My friend insisted that going online was the perfect way to circumvent this problem. Besides, what was I so turned off by? Over the last 15-20 years the internet has become accessible and usable for pretty much anyone. My generation in particular has grown up with it. So doesn't it make sense that we would use it to try and navigate the emotional quagmire that is dating?<br />
<br />
So I caved. I signed up. I don't like admitting it, but I figure if I don't I'll be missing out on a prime writing opportunity. I concluded that at worst it could be a small confidence boost and some positive reinforcement, even if I never went on any dates.<br />
<br />
I didn't go for Plenty of Fish (apparently there are a lot of not-so-great guys on there just looking for hookups) but rather opted for one of the ones you have to pay for. I figure it means at least whoever's on is a little serious about it.<br />
<br />
It's been about three weeks since I signed up, and so far it's fairly alright. I've been on three dates, but I don't intend to pursue anything with those guys. They were all perfectly nice, but there was never that crucial spark that made me want to see them again. And being online certainly can be funny. I'm beginning to note certain trends and figure out who to avoid. For example: never bother with any guy who has taken a shirtless photo of himself in a bathroom mirror with his cell phone (this happens more often than you'd care to think); avoid anyone with a cheesy and clichéd quote on their profile; spelling/grammar is a quick indicator of eligibility; when a guy has selected only "athletic and toned", "slender", and "about average" for his ideal date's body type it's his way of saying "no fatties". So far I've had one stranger tell me he loves me, and another propose that we get married "ASAP". Never a dull moment.<br />
<br />
And then there was today. I mean I knew this would happen sooner or later (because people are horrible), but that didn't make it any nicer. Some guy thought that it was socially appropriate to include in his email to me that my profile write-up sounds like an essay (because of my choice of words) and that I "seem super uptight". He is obviously a mannerless ignorant douchebag, but I haven't been able to brush it off so easily. I mean <i>really. </i>If he finds me so totally unappealing, then <b>why send an email?!</b> This is especially frustrating because it feels like the millionth time that a guy has complained about my vocabulary/intelligence (though usually they don't complain directly to me). Do men really have that much of a problem with someone who is familiar with the English language? Is intelligence such a threat? <i>Why is it a bad thing???!!</i> I guess this is just one more reason to despair for the human race.<br />
<br />
If I have any more adventures I'll let you know.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-86301962312554650422012-01-09T19:18:00.000-08:002012-01-09T19:18:42.375-08:00I Tried It: Newsprint NailsFor about a year now there has been a manicure I've been dying to try: the Newsprint manicure. I had seen it <a href="http://beauty.glam.com/2011/04/13/trick-to-try-newspaper-print-nails/" target="_blank">here</a> and loved the idea, but it kept getting shuffled back on my agenda. However, today I was home sick so I took the opportunity to try out this fun manicure.<div><br />
</div><div>I started (as I always do) with a Seche Base base coat, then two coats of Essie's Sand Tropez. As per the instructions, I then cut up a newspaper and soaked it in rubbing alcohol. This is where things became frustrating. On the first nail things came out pretty well, but after that it was all downhill. Long story short, I wound up spending the majority of my afternoon swearing at my nail polish bottles in frustration. For starters the type wasn't coming off at all on my nails, and I kept having to re-paint fingers because the polish would chip, dent, or warp.</div><div><br />
</div><div>After a while (and a lot of cursing) I gave up and re-painted my nails in simple Sand Tropez. I then waited about two or three hours and gave things another try. Finally, things started to work. In my experience, however, it works better to do it like this:</div><div><br />
</div><div>1. Take your pre-cut piece of newsprint and soak it in rubbing alcohol</div><div>2. Soak a large cotton ball in rubbing alcohol</div><div>3. Place the newsprint over your nail and secure it with the alcohol covered cotton ball on top.</div><div>4. After ten or so seconds, remove.</div><div>5. Repeat as necessary.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Now it did get some vague ghosted pattern from the newsprint, but nothing like what I was expecting. I'm guessing this is a manicure you have to try a few times over before it comes out right.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Anyway, in the meantime this is how my manicure finally turned out:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-13EXqrsM8fo/TwutCwjxbKI/AAAAAAAAAkU/CAyPmxh0yyM/s1600/IMG00369-20120109-1900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-13EXqrsM8fo/TwutCwjxbKI/AAAAAAAAAkU/CAyPmxh0yyM/s400/IMG00369-20120109-1900.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Nothing to brag over.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Anyway, before I leave you I thought I'd include another manicure, something of a belated NYE themed manicure. I used OPI Onyx (or something) on the bottom, followed by Sally Hansen Disco Ball, then Revlon's Belle, and I finished off with Icing's Sparkle Me Happy.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuBwPD2_i2s/Twut0vm60MI/AAAAAAAAAkc/7-4PR5SENRM/s1600/IMG00359-20120105-2152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuBwPD2_i2s/Twut0vm60MI/AAAAAAAAAkc/7-4PR5SENRM/s400/IMG00359-20120105-2152.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-76210799615421218782012-01-03T04:53:00.000-08:002012-01-03T04:53:35.077-08:00New Year, Old ProblemsAbout a week ago I was doing some preparatory New Years shopping with my sister. As we wandered through the aisles we continued an argument that had been going on for the last four weeks. My sister had planned an elaborate New Years Eve overnight in the city with just under a dozen of her friends, and she desperately wanted me to come along. I, however, was "fence-sitting".<br />
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Here's the thing about New Years: every single year it's the same story. It's supposed to be some party-to-end-all-parties; a spectacular fun-tastic experience that will change your life. People plan for weeks, shell out obscene amounts of money, and then.... meh. Every single New Years I've ever had has been nothing more extraordinary than mediocre. There's too much hype surrounding it, so it's a guaranteed disappointment. Not to mention fun cannot be forced. The nights I'll always remember were spontaneous and genuine. So, this year I wasn't feeling the effort. Rather than waste my energy and (recently exhausted) funds I figured I would just pretend it was like any other night and veg out on the couch.<br />
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As I was explaining this for the millionth time to my sister, several other reasons occurred to me for why I had no desire to go out. These mostly consisted of how I feel overweight, lethargic, and ghostly pale. Which led me to ask: why on Earth do we still celebrate New Years in <i>January</i>??? Besides it being midwinter and deathly cold, it also happens to be when the majority of the populace is feeling just as I am: fat and pasty. We've all been overeating ourselves into pseudo-hibernation since Thanksgiving, and most of us have Seasonal Affective Disorder from seeing so little sunlight. As much as I'd love to believe that "pale is the new black" (the racist overtones of which I only <i>just</i> recognized) I mostly just don't.<br />
<br />
Imagine, for a moment, New Years Eve in August. The night could be spent outdoors in the glorious warmth of summer nights. Having spent the last several months on beaches, in parks, and on mountains everyone would have a healthy summer glow and would be feeling fit and trim. Rather than having to make frustrating and pointless resolutions to frequent the gym and eat better, everyone would already be feeling pretty good and therefore could come up with some more original (and fun!) resolutions that we might actually keep.<br />
<br />
Despite a total lack of enthusiasm to go out, I wound up attending since it clearly meant a lot to my sister. It was definitely one of the better New Years, though it had its fair share of shenanigans. I'm sorry to disappoint you all but those will not be included on here. After all, I'd like to maintain some small semblance of professionalism.<br />
<br />
Most years I don't make resolutions. They've never worked out too well for me, and they often seem pointless. In that sense this year was just like the others. But tonight I had cause to reconsider.<br />
<br />
I had lain in bed for a good two hours trying to sleep without success (totally my fault for ODing on sugar and doing nothing all day). On a whim I started rifling through some of my old journals that happened to be close at hand. Sometimes I like to read them like novels, from start to finish, but tonight I just flipped through, pausing here and there. What I read gave me pause, and I started to consider the last few years. I suppose you could call them tumultuous. My old writing called to my attention some things I think I've swept under the rug, so to speak.<br />
<br />
Rather than rewrite all of my teenage angst, I'll get to the point. A couple of weeks (months?) ago I stumbled across <a href="http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html" target="_blank">this cartoon about depression</a>. At first it caught my attention because it was hilarious, but after reading I also had an uncomfortable awareness that my own thought processes are sometimes alarmingly similar to what the author called "narrating my thoughts and actions with a constant stream of abuse." Since first seeing the cartoon it has stayed with me, causing me to notice whenever I start thinking in these patterns.<br />
<br />
Now I'm happy to say I'm not depressed (pardon the pun), but closely identifying with a severely depressed person is <i>kind of</i> a red flag. So, I finally reach my point: this year's resolution is to change the way I think about myself. I have concluded that most of the things troubling me right now will be ameliorated if I can get myself to a happy, confident place. While I have no more than my usual faith in New Years resolutions (that is to say very little) I am going to make an effort to write nice things about myself every day. Instead of wallowing in my shortcomings I am going to celebrate my achievements; instead of dissecting my imperfections I will be grateful for my many blessings. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of having terrible self-esteem.<br />
<br />
Hopefully this will inspire one or two of you to do the same: I think we could all use a little more love.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-67642002679318813802011-12-20T20:28:00.000-08:002011-12-20T20:28:17.791-08:00Attack of the Holiday ManicuresHello all!<br />
<br />
What will all the holiday parties recently I've been doing a lot of at-home manicures. They're all on the simpler side since I've had a bit of a time shortage, but I figured I'd share anyway.<br />
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First up is my first foray into the "accent nail" idea. I wanted a deep red manicure, but also wanted some glitter to catch attention. I used OPI's "Malaga Wine", then did my ring fingers in "Midnight Kiss" by China Glaze with a coat of OPI's "Bring on the Bling". I was really happy with the result!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-15iZE1tEcGg/TvFe86Ts5zI/AAAAAAAAAj8/oE2AIJo68wU/s1600/IMG00313-20111216-1748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-15iZE1tEcGg/TvFe86Ts5zI/AAAAAAAAAj8/oE2AIJo68wU/s400/IMG00313-20111216-1748.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My most recent manicure is for a Christmas party tomorrow night. I'll be wearing an inky-black velvet dress with a gold zipper down the front and wanted my nails to play up the gold theme. I also picked up a great gold rose ring and wanted to tie it all together. I'd seen this manicure a few weeks ago, but unfortunately I can't find it <i>anywhere</i> to link to. I started with two coats of "Midnight Kiss", then did two or three coats of Sephora by OPI's "Traffic-Stopper Copper" on just the tips. The photos aren't great quality but the combination of gold and copper turned out really well!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WrMqJ3dW330/TvFf0uf-8HI/AAAAAAAAAkE/5PjLGLwTzdU/s1600/IMG00335-20111220-2151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WrMqJ3dW330/TvFf0uf-8HI/AAAAAAAAAkE/5PjLGLwTzdU/s400/IMG00335-20111220-2151.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p7vq4YO8mgg/TvFf1R88MZI/AAAAAAAAAkM/_hivqKRtR6I/s1600/IMG00333-20111220-2149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p7vq4YO8mgg/TvFf1R88MZI/AAAAAAAAAkM/_hivqKRtR6I/s400/IMG00333-20111220-2149.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-50172956741503043402011-12-20T20:07:00.000-08:002011-12-20T20:07:57.474-08:00Arch Nemesis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VOQCdmGvXKI/TvFX0zqDQzI/AAAAAAAAAj0/2zjGblT4ly8/s1600/10-gym-characters-intro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VOQCdmGvXKI/TvFX0zqDQzI/AAAAAAAAAj0/2zjGblT4ly8/s400/10-gym-characters-intro.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I have a new Arch Nemesis.<br />
<br />
I'm not really a "gym" person. For a long time I have professed a violent hatred toward the gym, which (largely) still exists. The gym, as many of you will know, is mainly stocked with two types of people. The first are the 'roided out guys: they spend every evening of the week pumping iron, grunting, and alternating between checking out themselves and checking out other 'roid monsters to make sure they're not being out-lifted. The other type of gym-goer are the super-fit women in tiny spandex: their favourite pastimes include tugging at their too-short shorts and trying to distract the 'roid monsters from their own reflections. Now despite having taken a few classes in gyms I still haven't mastered the subtle art of knowing what the hell to do with myself while there, and thanks to the super judgemental audience I never have the guts to try and figure it out. When you throw in outrageous fees and inconvenient commutes, going to the gym just never makes it onto my priority list.<br />
<br />
However, I recently have found it necessary to overcome this distaste for the gym. Every year around this time, I - like most other people - manage to start packing on the holiday weight. While most other years I approach this phenomenon with a kind of depressed resignation, this year I've been trying to make a preemptive strike. For the first time I'm living in a building with a gym, and the fees are already part of my rent so it's basically free to use. While I still barely know what I'm doing, I've managed to work out a cardio routine that I can make it through without embarrassing myself. For the last few weeks this has been going pretty well, and I've succeeded in ignoring everyone else in the gym.<br />
<br />
Until today, when I met my Arch Nemesis.<br />
<br />
Things started well enough: I came in, set up at reclining cycle or whatever you call that thing, and zoned out to my music while trying to make it through the first half hour of my routine. I vaguely noticed an impractically dressed woman on a treadmill, but for the most part was trying not to sing aloud to The White Panda and Justin Bieber. It was when I went to use a treadmill myself that things started their rapid descent into Nemesis Town. One of the four treadmills is a little older and a little broken. The handles have broken where the heart rate monitor is, so every time you adjust speed or incline you receive a shock: not my favourite. To my delight, there were two available treadmills, though I noticed a towel and a sweatshirt on the not-broken one next to impractically dressed woman (henceforth "gym floozy"). Unsure, I concluded the good treadmill's occupant must have gone to the restroom, so after hesitating for a minute I resigned myself to the shitty treadmill and a half hour of shock treatment.<br />
<br />
While running, however, I noticed that no one came to claim their towel. I also couldn't help but notice some more details about gym floozy. I've already mentioned that I'm no gym proficient, but even the greenest novice could see that this woman didn't have a clue what she was doing. Interval training is one thing, but gym floozie was alternating between about thirty seconds of all-out sprinting and five minutes of quick-stepping (nope, it didn't even qualify as speed walking). She would get going so fast, wouldn't be able to sustain her speed, and then would have to hop onto the side rail to slow the treadmill down before continuing. It was probably the most pointless exercise I've ever been witness to.<br />
<br />
Now I realize I've done a terrible job of painting a full picture of what gym floozy looks like. For her sprint/walks gym floozy decided to go for one of the smallest outfits of all time. She was sporting itty-bitty high school-style hot pants that I'm pretty sure she stole from Michael Cera in <i>Juno</i>, paired with a spagetti strap tank top that didn't even come close to covering up her (generous) bust. So imagine, if you will, gym floozy at an all-out sprint. Just imagine it.<br />
<br />
I wouldn't have been her biggest fan under those circumstances, but could have forgiven the impractical athletic wear and improper equipment use if that was all there was to it. It was the fact that - as I eventually discovered - she had draped her sport jacket and towel on a second treadmill instead of <i>over the rail of her own</i> that really cemented her status as Arch Nemesis. I mean really? Did she REALLY need to take up TWO treadmills for her performance of amateur-hour?! I would have preferred to have my half-hour run without the 20 or so electric shocks.<br />
<br />
By the time I made it over the the elliptical for the final half hour of my session I was in a pretty unhappy mood. Still, the sight in front of me was ridiculous under any circumstance. On one of the cycles was what I can only conclude to be a lost hippy. She was middle-aged and had come to exercise in glorified pyjamas that were probably made of hemp. She also seemed to have forgotten a bra of any kind. None of these things were what really caught my attention though. What caught my attention was that she was cycling in wooly socks, with her Birkenstock sandals just to the side of her cycle.<br />
<br />
It was at this point that I gave up on life and left.<br />
<br />
As for you Arch Nemesis, thanks for the half-hour of shock treatment: see you at the gym, bitch.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-40262308462662988252011-12-15T12:23:00.000-08:002011-12-15T12:23:19.607-08:00New York, New York<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FRpY2WudUgo/TupV7_rUU5I/AAAAAAAAAjo/T3rwDyZ3-Ao/s1600/xmastree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FRpY2WudUgo/TupV7_rUU5I/AAAAAAAAAjo/T3rwDyZ3-Ao/s400/xmastree.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Apparently my trip to Europe (and the traveling I did while there) has started something of a trend in my life! For the last month I've been living in Toronto, and last week in a spur-of-the-moment decision my cousin and I decided to accompany my aunt and uncle on a trip to New York City. I have never been to New York, and the last and only time I visited the states was when I was seventeen and briefly stayed in Las Vegas. You can imagine then that I was out of my mind excited to be visiting Manhattan during the Christmas holiday season.<br />
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We flew out on Saturday afternoon from a smaller airport on Toronto's waterfront (this was a huge improvement over flying from Pearson), though I laughed when I was selected for "randomized additonnal screening". It essentially consisted of them waving some wand around my hands and telling me I could go. We arrived in Newark (New Jersey) after a short flight, and then it was into a cab and off to Manhattan. My uncle attended grad school at Harvard, so we stayed at the Harvard Club near Fifth Avenue and 44th Street. The Harvard Club is absolutely stunning! All the walls are Harvard scarlet, as well as the soft carpets. It's filled with dark-wood columns and mouldings, as well as old Harvard memorabilia. In addition, everything was decorated for Christmas with boughs of cedar and pine, christmas lights, gold bows, and holly. In one of the dining halls was a huge Christmas tree which must have been at least 25 feet tall and fully decorated. For our first night there we decided to go for dinner at a Greek place, but unfortunately the first choice was too busy. Instead we stumbled across another restaurant called Molyvos that wound up being excellent. They served a particular flaming cheese dish that we all loved. Afterward we drove through the city, including Time Square, Bryant Park (where they hold New York Fashion Week), and we visited Grand Central Station.<br />
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The next morning I woke up to I Can't Help Myself (better known as Sugar Pie Honey Bunch) on the radio, sun streaming through the windows, and the overwhelming feeling that it was going to be a great day. I wasn't disappointed. We breakfasted at the Harvard Club, then went on to Fifth Avenue where we visited the Rockefeller Center (including the skating rink and tree) and did some shopping in Saks. After that we headed over to MoMA (Museum of Modern Art) to see the large De Kooning exhibit there. I must say, De Kooning is not my favourite. I found his works grotesque, and thought they displayed an alarming degree of misogyny. Some of the work practically radiated evil, which was totally weird. After grabbing lunch my aunt and uncle went to go see the Diego Rivera exhibit while my cousin and I went in search of Van Gogh's <i>Starry Night</i>, one of my favourite paintings. Find it we did, as well as a second Van Gogh that I am now equally in love with. It's called <i>The Olive Trees</i>, and it has me completely enraptured. We also saw some Picasso (not my favourite), and some Henri Rousseau, whose paintings I find slightly hypnotic (and love). After MoMA we were all pretty tired, so we went back to The Harvard Club for a rest before dinner. The Sex and the City Movie (the first one) was on TV, which seemed appropriate given it was my first visit to New York.<br />
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By dinner time we were all still tired though, so we decided to go to Kellari Taverna, which is right next to the Club. Kellari serves Greek food, which (once again) was totally incredible. One of New York's major highlights is that there is so much amazing food all around. After dinner it was off to bed in preparation for another busy day.<br />
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The next morning we went to the Upper East Side to a cafe called Sant Ambroeus that officially serves the best hot chocolate anywhere. It is a Milanese-style place, and beautifully decorated. After hot chocolate and a croissant, my cousin, aunt and I wandered along Madison Avenue, exploring BCBG, J Crew, and Elie Tahari before heading for lunch at a French restaurant called Le Charlot on Madison Avenue and 69th Street. After lunch we walked through Central Park, then went up to Bergdorf Goodman's to enjoy the windows and have a look at the glamorous merchandise.<br />
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One thing I'll add was I noticed something of a Manhattan uniform. Almost every woman carried a Louis Vuitton purse of some sort and wore a plaid Burberry scarf, often with a fur coat. Men all wore suits, and also wore Burberry plaid scarves. At times the sheer concentration of wealth was overwhelming.<br />
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After Bergdorf Goodman's we walked over to The Four Seasons and had tea at The Bar, a famous Manhattan watering hole and meeting place for the glamorous and successful. Once tea was concluded it was back to the Harvard Club to shower and change, and then off to Soho to a restaurant called Beauty & Essex. Beauty and Essex was amazing! One enters the restaurant through the back door of a pawn shop, and the restaurant itself is a huge two-level high-ceilinged affair. The wall I was facing was covered in collections of framed lockets. The food was European, and I had a fantastic cale, walnut, apple and goats' cheese salad that reminded me of Europe. Afterward my cousin and I shared a bottomless butterscotch pudding type-thing which was unbelievably good. The music was loud, pumping Rihanna, David Guetta, Usher and other popular club beats, and the crowd was young and fashionable.<br />
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Our final engagement for the evening was Ivanka Trump's jewelry store launch in Soho. Dinner had run long so we got there only five minutes before the event's scheduled end, but we went in and had a look. Mostly the crowd seemed to be her older friends and investors, but I stood about a foot away from her for at least five minutes before we decided we were bored and wanted to leave. We did one more tour of the city (my aunt needed photos) before going back to the Harvard Club.<br />
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The next morning it was up and off to the airport, though we made a quick stop near the Flat Iron Building at another Milanese coffee place called Eataly for hot chocolate and coffee. Things at the airport were quiet (thank god) but I had a rather unpleasant surprise once we got to security.<br />
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You see, Newark's airport has one of those hotly-contested security scanners that has many people upset right now. In case you're not familiar with the issue, the USA has been introducing high-intensity scanners that essentially allow security to see what you look like under your clothes. Not having encountered these on the way into New York I didn't anticipate having to face them on the way out. Furthermore, they had the usual metal detector <i>right there</i>, but for some reason were marching everyone through the privacy-violating contraption. I didn't like it one bit, but I didn't exactly have a choice. On the bright side, Once I was on the other side I had a look at the actual visual the guards see, and it's not what I expected. Contrary to the images floating around the internet, it's a very simple person icon, with a yellow flash anywhere you're wearing metal. Nevertheless, I don't like those machines. If you'd like to read up on the issue you can look at <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/story/2010/01/05/security-canada-us-airport.html" target="_blank">this article</a>, or just type "airport security scanner" into google.<br />
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Anyway, overall the trip to New York was exciting and so much fun. I can't believe how much amazing food and how many incredible sights and decorations I got to see! Christmas really is the best time to visit I think, but I hope I'll go back again.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-75609863710705262672011-12-15T11:08:00.000-08:002011-12-15T11:08:30.281-08:00Auf wiedersehen , Hamburg!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GVWW1j6De8c/TupFlvbnxxI/AAAAAAAAAjg/iyz6jjQUlAU/s1600/hamburg-pictures-5014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GVWW1j6De8c/TupFlvbnxxI/AAAAAAAAAjg/iyz6jjQUlAU/s400/hamburg-pictures-5014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Well, it's taken me over a month to write this up, but I figured it was finally time to cover the last weekend of my German stay. Mostly because this past weekend I was in New York and really need to get some more updates going.... more on that later.<br />
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My last European update left off after my return to Hamburg from Ireland. I had only the Thursday and Friday left at work before leaving on Monday for Canada.<br />
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Because so many of my coworkers from Online were vacationing that week my days at work were pretty quiet. On Thursday I went out for lunch with my boss (who is also an old friend of my uncle's). Because of some details relating to selling the apartment I had been staying in he kindly offered to be my host for my final weekend in Hamburg. On Friday I had one final lunch with the Advertising boys, which was fun and a little nostalgic. I found it pretty funny how much their English had deteriorated in the eight weeks since we had been working together. The rest of the afternoon passed quietly enough, but when the end of the day came around I noticed the whole floor of the agency was all gathered up around the meeting table. I wandered out and everyone was looking at me, and then they presented me with a little gift and a card everyone had signed. On the card was a picture of the How I Met Your Mother cast, though they had photoshopped my face over Robin Scherbatsky's, and below had put "How I Met Your Mudda", a word-play on my first German words "deine mudda". I, of course, got totally overwhelmed and started tearing up, then made a probably incoherent speech about my time there.<br />
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That, however, was not the end of the night. Our agency is split up into two buildings, one of which is Advertising, Design, Online, (generally the more Creative side of things) then the other building that mainly houses PR, Accounts, Management and other such administrative type things. That Friday night we were having a big company party to encourage everyone to get to know one another (A Team themed party, I might add). Like most German parties, everyone got pretty drunk at the open bar and had a prodigiously good time singing and dancing to hits of the '90s. I wound up swing dancing with a member of senior management who was delightedly telling me about his recent marriage (I think... it was really tough to hear). It was a brilliantly fun send off. Though in a particularly obnoxious turn of fate, I happened to meet a charming, attractive, tall, successful, <i>single</i> gentleman <i>who was actually interested in me</i>. Go figure. Neither of us was pleased that I was leaving the damn continent in three days. Thanks Europe. Nothing but married men for three and a half months and then <i>Prince Charming</i> days before I leave.<br />
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Anyway, the next day was my boss' father's birthday, so I joined his family in journeying to the countryside outside of Hamburg for the party. I was a little nervous that it would be awkward since I'm essentially a complete stranger and can't even speak German, but the family was so welcoming. For my benefit they all spoke English, and my boss' parents were probably the sweetest people in the world. The area they lived in was also exceptionally beautiful, and it was nice to get a sense of what there was outside of Hamburg. I had a great chat with the birthday-man, who happened to be pretty hilarious. He asked if I was planning to be in Design permanently, and when I said I had lots of different plans for my future he replied "Good, you're too smart to waste your whole life on that." Haha classic old man honesty.<br />
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I should add that my boss happens to live in one of Hamburg's nicest communities. His residence is right near the lake, on a tree-lined street with gorgeous white Victorian townhouses and wrought-iron gates. It was a pleasure to stay there and get to walk around the area.<br />
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Once we had returned from the countryside birthday party I headed downtown to try and get my final shopping out of the way. I needed another bag (too much shopping during my trip) and also had to find a souvenir for my father, which I eventually was successful at getting. While wandering around I did see the craziest thing though. Right in the middle of the shopping district was a giant and rather frightening looking man hauling around a giant wooden cross and shouting German at passersby. I would have taken a picture if I wasn't genuinely concerned for my safety. Shortly thereafter I decided I needed some caffeine and headed over to Starbucks, where the freak-parade continued. As I was standing at the bar waiting for my order, the man ahead of me picked up his: a venti white mocha. For those of you who are coffee-illiterate, a venti white mocha is a 20 ounce drink made up of two shots of espresso combined with white hot chocolate and then topped with whipped cream and white chocolate sauce (thanks, job at a coffee shop!). It is probably one of the highest fat and calorie drinks you can order, not to mention it is bordering on sickly sweet. I then observed the gentleman take his sugar-fest diabetes-inducing drink to the condiments stand, where he casually poured half of a <b>giant</b> tumbler of sugar into the drink. I mean it, he poured almost half of that sugar in there. I could barely contain my laughter, though the thought of all that sugar made my teeth hurt for all the cavities I'm sure he has. Now you're probably imagining a morbidly obese man right now, but in fact this guy was pretty young and really skinny. All I can say is I'd hate to be him when that metabolism slows down. As though that hadn't been enough hilarity for one night, on my way back to the metro I passed yet another comedic sight. I was using a crosswalk when two gentlemen pulled up to a red light in a flashy convertible with the top down. Despite it being well after dark, I'm quite sure one or both of them were wearing sunglasses. The best part? They were blaring Bollywood music like it was the coolest shit this side of Ibiza. Once again I had to suppress laughter as the President and Vice President of the Douche Squad rolled on by.<br />
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The next day (my last in Europe) I was determined not to spend packing. So, in the morning I got my stuff together, then went to my favourite place - the Alsterarkaden - to meet up with a friend from work. We got coffee and hung out there for a bit, then moved on to get lunch. We finished the day by walking around the lakes, something I hadn't actually done before. Unfortunately the day was fairly overcast, but I was still pretty pleased with how it went. When I got back to my host's place a friend of his was visiting and so we all chatted for a while. The friend (whose name I absolutely cannot remember) was very interesting and for quite some time had been a European fashion mogul. I was therefore all the more delighted when he complimented me on the design of my shirt and the colour of my fur scarf (which has turned out to be one of my best European purchases). Anyway, we all decided to go out for dinner at a place called Brücke. Brücke is a small little restaurant/bar that was once a choice Hollywood hang out. It was started by a rather famous restauranteur and has a great reputation. We started with champagne (which I have developed quite a taste for), and then I had a fried fish on a bed of lentils, with perhaps the best sauce I've ever had. It was fantastic! The three of us debated spending a night out on the town, but concluded that since my flight was so early it was probably best that we get to bed early.<br />
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The next day it was off to the airport at something like 5:30am. My first flight was from Hamburg to Frankfurt, and <i>of course</i> it was delayed by at least an hour thanks to one of the runways getting shut down. This stressed me out a little since I had a connection to make and really didn't want to push my timeline. Anyway, eventually I got on the flight and arrived in Frankfurt without too much trouble. If you'll recall Frankfurt is one of the largest airports in the world, and dragging myself through it was not what I would call "fun". Anyway, after jumping through hoops with security I arrived at the correct gate, and finally it was on to the giant air bus headed for Vancouver International. Unfortunately, unlike my flight from Vancouver to Hamburg I was not seated by any handsome gentlemen this time around - just some stringy looking quiet guy. I was, however, one seat over from a window and right next to the aisle, which definitely improved my flying experience. Though I had hoped to get some sleep, instead I wound up watching a ton of movies. I started with the new Pirates of the Caribbean (sucked), then watched Bad Teacher (better than I expected), Thor (which I've already seen), Something Borrowed (sucked), The Green Lantern (sucked), Voyage of the Dawntreader (sucked), and probably at least one other film I can't even remember. I believe once I'd run out of movies I moved on to 30 Rock, and then an episode of Modern Family. It was a long flight. One of the coolest parts was flying over Greenland. I had been too far from a window on the way to Europe to see anything, but on the way back I was able to glimpse the endless hills of snow in the arctic. It was incredible! I've never seen anything like it, and I wish I could've gotten a picture or even just looked at it longer.<br />
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After ten and a half hours in the air we <i>finally</i> landed in Vancouver, and then I had to deal with at least an hour or two of customs, duties, and security. The fact that I had been out of the country for so long also made things more confusing, though I haven't been hunted down yet by the IRS so I'm guessing I didn't fuck anything up too badly.<br />
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There are a lot of things I've taken away from my time in Europe, and I expect I'll discover many more as time goes by. First, it's given me a better understanding of my own culture, country, and what it means to be a Canadian: an identity I only had a vague sense of before. Second, it taught me a lot about culture in general. During my first month in Germany I resented that the culture wasn't as open as my own: I was constantly frustrated that it was so difficult to connect with people, and I concluded that it was a closed-minded way of operating. Ironically, I was the one who was being closed-minded. While I will still tell you that the Northern German culture is more reserved, I won't say that that's a bad thing. It's simply different. While their friendship is a little more work to come by, once you have it you can depend upon it. I hope that in the future I'll be able to experience more cultures and continue learning these lessons.<br />
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Another thing I gained from my time overseas was an increased faith in my abilities and a greater independence. While I've always been a fairly independent person, I now feel like I can do just about anything: nothing could ever be as much of a challenge as working and living on the other side of the world in a culture I'm not familiar with, in a country whose language I don't speak, and on a continent where I know no one. These days I am more likely to look at a situation and see opportunities to be grasped rather than challenges I cannot overcome. I am also not afraid to be alone. I know I can take care of myself, and that I don't need to rely upon anyone else to do the things I'm interested in. My travels taught me to be alone in a way that I don't think I could've learned otherwise.<br />
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I'll always look upon my time in Europe as a significant period of growth, learning, and change in my personal history. I am so overjoyed that I got to go, and I can't wait to have more adventures just like it.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-92167534037278129702011-11-22T22:45:00.000-08:002011-11-22T22:45:44.171-08:00Let's shut our eyes and pretend none of it ever happenedI owe you a post. Enough said.<br />
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So much has been going on in the last couple of months, and there's so much I've been meaning to get up here. It's been almost a month since I left Germany and came back to Canada, and it's been exactly a week since moving to Toronto and starting my new job. In four months I've changed time zones at least five or so times and I've been on at least a dozen flights between four countries and two continents. For someone who has spent the majority of their life in a quiet corner of the province this has been a lot of activity. I have a piece in the works about my last few weeks in Germany, but I'm afraid this isn't it. Work has been so busy that I just don't have the time to dedicate to writing coherently these days.<br />
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Speaking of work, I suppose you may be interested in a brief rundown of what I'm up to. Basically I'm working with a graphic design company and an interior design company for some developers who are building townhomes etcetera. The body of my company is located out West, so I've been sent here to be a liaison between East, West, and everyone else involved (architects, landscapers, realtors, lawyers, printers and more). I had expected to be working very much on the creative aspects of things (this is, after all, where the bulk of my experience lies), but instead I've found my role has been much more on-the-ground assistance. I ensure everyone has the files they need, attend meetings, make presentations, source materials (such as printers or audio/visual groups), and spend what must be the majority of my time on the phone getting everyone up to speed on our project progress.<br />
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The last few days have been particularly busy as we are all scrambling to get things together for a big event we have next week. I spent my morning rushing between meetings with an audio/visual consultant and our printers, then put in another nine hours at the office making all the necessary edits and adjustments to our materials. Luckily the very intense conclusion to my degree has prepared me well for barrages of deadlines and I've been able to keep going without completely losing my mind: "keep calm and carry on" and all that.<br />
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I am thoroughly delighted to say that all of the feedback I've received regarding my work has been wonderful. It's immeasurably reassuring to know that even though you feel completely inadequate and unprepared that others perceive you as put-together and competent. While things are very hectic at the moment it doesn't at all detract from the learning experience. The work here is very different (though still related) to what I did in Germany, and seems to be yet another step in discovering all about this industry. Every day is a new challenge but no matter what I'll finish up with so much more knowledge, confidence and skills than when I started. Not to mention an amazing reference for my resume.<br />
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But before <i>I</i> get too smug and <i>you</i> get too annoyed, let's get to what's really been on my mind. For reasons I have yet to uncover I've been in the strangest mood lately. I think part of it is that things are progressing at such a rate that everything seems more than a little surreal. I haven't had sufficient time to process exactly all that has happened, and when I try to I get a little dumbstruck.<br />
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Also, I think the move to this new city is making me consider a few things I haven't given thought (deliberately or otherwise). For starters, it seems to be some kind of law of nature that whenever your professional career takes off your love life takes a proportionate dive for the worse. More and more lately I've been overwhelmed by frustration when it comes to my poor luck. The majority of you will already be familiar with my inability to find even ONE single man during my time overseas. I had hoped to leave this problem where it belonged - in Europe - but alas, it followed me home. No sooner did I arrive in Toronto and attend my first business pre-holiday party (yeah, they have those here and they are <i>just</i> as glamorous as you are imagining) than I found an amazingly cute guy, who *gloriously* seemed to reciprocate my interest. Well, we chatted, we laughed, and then two or so hours later I discovered - through someone else, of course - that he was married. Ladies and gentlemen: my life. It's just so beyond ridiculous. While the guy himself is clearly a scumbag and I have comfortably and easily banished from my mind, the overall trend of being unable to find anyone single is really grating on my nerves. It's gotten to the point where it's really difficult to look at any prospect with even the smallest degree of positivity since with my luck it just won't work out. Depressing. There are soooo many men in Toronto but all of a sudden I have this unshakable defeatist attitude that's getting me down like nothing else. To boot, I've managed to meet someone too-good-to-be-true. While there is a teensy-tiny ray of hope, I can't bring myself to look at it with any real enthusiasm: to hope is to open oneself to disappointment, and right now that's all I've been getting so why should this time be any different?<br />
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This odd combination of such surreal momentum in my professional life yet such tiresome frustration in my personal life keeps calling to mind this particular phrase: "let's shut our eyes and pretend none of it ever happened." Some weeks ago this popped into my head and like a catchy song I haven't been able to forget it. It may be that it's a line from a movie, a lyric from a song, or maybe I even came up with it myself. Whatever its genesis, it's been stuck in my head and seems to encapsulate much of my current situation. There's more though: to really tie things together in a so-weird-it's-ridiculous kind of way, I stumbled across something I might rather not have in my email today.<br />
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Perhaps a year ago I made a new email account since my old address was from elementary school days and bore an appropriately embarrassing name. When I did, I suppose I imported all the emails from my "Saved" folder of the old account. Today, as it happened, I thought I had accidentally drag-and-drop copied an entire other folder into the saved folder, and so I opened it up - my first time doing so since activating my new email - and checked the contents.<br />
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What I found inside produced a similar effect as a punch to the gut might. Inside were the last emails I ever received from my two close friends who were killed in a car accident just over five years ago. I don't think I've looked at those in over four years; I'd forgotten I even had them. One email was from the day before the accident, discussing our plans to all go together to the lake the next day - I had replied saying that was the only day I couldn't attend due to an orthodontics appointment. It's chilling to contemplate where I might (or might not) be today had I been in the car with them. "Pretend none of it ever happened" indeed.<br />
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Five years later and I still have no idea what to do with that knowledge.<br />
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Surreal, surreal, surreal. Life is surreal.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-73659778259270748292011-11-14T00:07:00.000-08:002011-11-14T00:09:30.263-08:00A word on navigationAlright, so just a quick word:<br />
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For the most part I've eliminated the pages feature. They were a rather inconvenient part of the site that was tiresome to update and I'll bet took ages to load. <b>However</b> you still should be able to find the material you want through the search bar to the top right, or simply by selecting tags which I've been pretty good at staying on top of. I've left up the Art and Favourite Things pages because my updating system for them is a little different than the rest of the topics I address.<br />
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Hopefully this won't be to disruptive to your browsing.<br />
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As always,<br />
Arbiter ElegantiaeA.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-7831646906853663162011-11-13T23:56:00.000-08:002011-11-14T00:32:38.620-08:00Listening To: Daydreaming Part 2Way back in April I posted a <a href="http://arbiterelegantiae-fashionfilmfeminism.blogspot.com/2011/04/listening-to-daydreaming-playlist.html" target="_blank">Daydreaming playlist</a> which received a really wonderful response from listeners. The original Daydreaming was just a small compilation from a much larger (142 tracks) playlist I have on my iTunes. Because you all loved the first installment so much I decided to work on a second, which is meant to pick up where the last playlist left off. Unfortunately three of the integral tracks aren't on Grooveshark and cannot be uploaded so it's not <i>exactly</i> how I wanted it. Regardless, it continues the in the same dreamy and mellow vein as the last playlist did. I started with some quiet pieces that highlighted guitar accompaniment, and then transitioned into songs backed by piano. While Daydreaming 1 was dominated by male vocalists I decided to use Daydreaming 2 to explore some of my favourite songstresses. Fear not: you'll still find some excellent Bon Iver, The National, and Beach House, but you'll also get a taste of Bat for Lashes, Florence and the Machine, Cat Power, Dido, and Neko Case.<br />
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I don't always get to give my playlists the individual attention they deserve, but for Daydreaming I go the extra mile. I challenge you not to fall in love.<br />
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<object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" height="500" id="gsPlaylist6182821017" name="gsPlaylist6182821017" width="500"><param name="movie" value="http://grooveshark.com/widget.swf" /><param name="wmode" value="window" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&playlistID=61828210&bbg=000000&bth=000000&pfg=000000&lfg=000000&bt=FFFFFF&pbg=FFFFFF&pfgh=FFFFFF&si=FFFFFF&lbg=FFFFFF&lfgh=FFFFFF&sb=FFFFFF&bfg=666666&pbgh=666666&lbgh=666666&sbh=666666&p=0" /><!--[if !IE]>--><object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://grooveshark.com/widget.swf" width="500" height="500"><param name="wmode" value="window" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&playlistID=61828210&bbg=000000&bth=000000&pfg=000000&lfg=000000&bt=FFFFFF&pbg=FFFFFF&pfgh=FFFFFF&si=FFFFFF&lbg=FFFFFF&lfgh=FFFFFF&sb=FFFFFF&bfg=666666&pbgh=666666&lbgh=666666&sbh=666666&p=0" /><span><a href="http://grooveshark.com/playlist/Daydreaming+2/61828210" title="Daydreaming 2 by Bronwyn on Grooveshark">Daydreaming 2 by Bronwyn on Grooveshark</a></span></object><!--<![endif]--></object>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-81385091051239236992011-11-13T23:41:00.000-08:002011-11-13T23:41:52.445-08:00Marvelous Manicure: Christmas 2011Hello all!<br />
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Now that Remembrance Day (or as I like to call it, Novembrance Day) is behind us, it is officially acceptable to start listening to Christmas carols and decorating for the holidays. One of my favourite parts of the holidays is getting to do themed manicures! Last year I took my inspiration from Starbucks' holiday to-go cups, but this year I wanted to do more of a Christmas tree ornament type of thing. I started with Midnight Kiss by China Glaze, which is a molten gold. I followed by doing a very light coating of OPI's Bring On the Bling on just the tips of the nail in a gradient style. Bring On the Bling is a great glitter from the Burlesque collection, and has gold, green, and red micro-glitter: perfect for the holidays. Finally, I accented two nails on each hand with holly berries and leaves, which I created used some nail pens.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">While I'm on the holiday theme, I may as well attach last-year's Christmas manicure, which I'll probably repeat this year - I loved it! For it I used OPI's Malaga Wine, a dusting of loose red glitter, a white nail pen, and a touch of sliver glitter for the snowflake centres. (Sorry for the blurriness!) Enjoy!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_FWYZ2imYfA/TsDFv7K9WAI/AAAAAAAAAjU/3z0cSqmF0k4/s1600/IMG00045-20101116-2023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_FWYZ2imYfA/TsDFv7K9WAI/AAAAAAAAAjU/3z0cSqmF0k4/s400/IMG00045-20101116-2023.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-29766037934039020682011-11-13T23:18:00.000-08:002011-11-13T23:18:20.114-08:00Irish TimesAlright, so due to the sheer volume of material I want to cover I've decided it will be much simpler if I break things up a little bit. So, this post will be dedicated to my visit to Ireland and the week that preceded it.<br />
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As it happened I had one last weekend between France and Ireland during which I got to enjoy Hamburg without dealing with packing and other such craziness. I took advantage of the sun and the free time to say my final goodbyes to my favourite part of Hamburg: the Alsterarkaden. Once I had gotten myself some caffeine I set up camp on the steps of the canal, fished out my notebook and started sketching the far side. When I had first arrived in Germany my work had gifted me with a small company notebook which evolved into something of a travel diary for me. At first I put in directions, maps, and itineraries, but later I included passing observations, notes to include in my blog, and sketches of particularly interesting subjects. It is now one of my favourite souvenirs from my trip.<br />
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The day was fairly pleasant and uneventful, though I became very irritated with some passing tourists. You see, down in the canals is a great collection of birds. Mostly pigeons and seagulls but also swans, all of whom are drawn to the bread hand-outs by locals. These tourists, however, weren't passing out food. Instead, they were approaching the human-desensitized wildlife and <i>kicking</i> at them until the focus of their cruelty flew away. I quietly hoped that they would fall into the canal in the process, and resolved that if they did I wouldn't lift a finger to help them.<br />
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The other moment of note was while I was sketching away. I was listening to Patrick Watson's "Mr. Tom" on my iPod, and there was a street performer about 25 metres away. He was entertaining the crowd with torch throwing and balancing, and he added to the show by screaming theatrically/maniacally. Just at that moment, church bells began to toll. It was such a surreal moment. It seemed like the kind of audio-mix you see in film sometimes, where the protagonist stares into the distance broodingly while the world whirls past in slow motion. But, as always happens, the moment passed, and real life restarted. Below is the Patrick Watson track, which (I think) was really what set the tone for the experience.<br />
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The week passed quickly, and next thing I knew it was Friday. Most of my coworkers from Online were vacationing during my last week, so it was something of a last goodbye for me. For lunch we all went out for sushi (I'm sorry to say it had nothing on sushi in Vancouver), followed by the best cupcake I've had. Ever. Which brings me to a piece of advice: if you ever find yourself in Hamburg, the best bakery of all time is Liebes Bisschen, and the best salad I've ever had the honour to consume can be found at Esszimmer. You can never go wrong with a mound of fresh greens, great dressing, and baked goat cheese. Sigh.<br />
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But back to Friday. Anyway, that evening we had another company party. My employers recently bought a smaller company, and so we had a mixer so all the new employees could get to know one another. It was a lot of fun, though I got my ass handed to me at foosball. Apparently that's pretty much all they do during their spare time.<br />
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I don't even remember what time I got home at, but luckily my flight wasn't until late afternoon the next day. I made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, though I was irritated to discover that the "low-cost" airline charged to check any baggage whatsoever. Thanks for the heads-up guys! During the flight I wound up flipping through the airline's magazine, which was strange because I never do that. However, I wound up stumbling upon a little article about something called City of a Thousand Welcomes. It is something of a tourism project which aims to build on Ireland's reputation for hospitality. Basically you sign up online and it will pair you with a host; someone who is passionate about Dublin. You meet up at a prearranged time and go for tea or a pint, and they personally welcome you to the city and provide you with helpful pointers on how to best enjoy yourself. Tired of traveling <i>alone all the time</i>, I signed up for the next day.<br />
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And it was a good thing I did! Because I had signed up on such short notice I wound up being hosted by the company's founder. We met up close to Saint Stephen's Green and Grafton Street and then relocated to Bewley's, a beautiful coffee shop right on Grafton Street. If I remember correctly, the place was built in the late 19th century. One of its most striking features is the stained glass windows, created by a famous Irish artist. Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to get photos of them. Anyway, in the end I was really pleased I had signed up. I had a pleasant time with my host, who was happy to provide a wealth of personalized advice on what to do while I was in Dublin.<br />
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I spent most of the rest of the day doing a little exploring and shopping around the Grafton Street area. I also got to stroll through St. Stephen's Green, a famous local park. That night I had planned on making a visit to the world-renowned Temple Bar Pub. And venture out I did. Unfortunately the weather had other plans for my night. It had started raining heavily in the early afternoon, and by the time I left my hotel this had turned into a full-out gale.<br />
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Now I'd like to throw in a word about navigating in Europe. Unlike in North America, where street names can be located on posts on every street corner - where they are readable and helpful - in Europe (I noticed this in both France and Ireland) street names can <i>most of the time</i> be found on small plaques placed on the second level of buildings on intersections. Not every corner though, oh no. So, you may find yourself at an intersection and the only way of figuring out where you are is by scanning the surrounding buildings, which may or may not have plaques on them. Now imagine trying to do this at night, when the rain is blowing so strongly that you've lost count of the number of times your stupid umbrella has flipped inside out. Furthermore, crosswalk signals in Europe operate with different timing. Specifically one is allowed about twenty seconds to get across the road, but once this window is passed you will likely have to wait a good ten minutes or so until the next crossing. Apparently Europeans just ignore this and cross the road whenever they damn well feel like it and waiting around is the unmistakable mark of a tourist. I, however, have a strong respect for the damage vehicles can do to the human body and am more often happier to wait the two extra minutes rather than take a risk in areas where I'm totally unfamiliar with the traffic patterns. To sum up, navigating was <i>endlessly</i> frustrating.<br />
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I wandered around the streets just long enough to get thoroughly wind-blown, bedraggled and angry. To boot, Irish men - unlike German men - have no issue with voicing their admiration of passing women: a "pleasantry" which was rather unappreciated in my windswept and disoriented state. Plus they were all like 50. I got completely lost and wound up just giving up on finding the damn place. Once back at my hotel I headed down to the bar where I nursed a whiskey sour while glaring at the rugby game playing on the TVs.<br />
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Weather-wise, the next day was more of the same. The day started rainy and got progressively worse. Despite the foul conditions I wandered over to Trinity College Dublin where I saw the Book of Kells (a medieval-era illuminated copy of the New Testament) and the "Long Room". The exhibit showing in the Long Room was on the court of Louis XIV and consisted largely of books. The Long Room was another of my favourite places from my European tour. The photo (like most photos) doesn't quite do it justice. The atmosphere is much more murky as the windows are all covered over to protect the books. The sense of space inside is so special though - it's the type of place I'd love to have a few hours to camp out within and just take in the surroundings. The book of Kells exhibit was also really interesting, and included several video displays which demonstrated the medieval technique of book-making. I was particularly interested in the ways in which the personalities of the various scribes and artists manifested in their different styles of ornamentation and writing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-omqH3_sQdhk/TrdG79lW37I/AAAAAAAAAgw/EXEu5KHzEUI/s1600/longroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-omqH3_sQdhk/TrdG79lW37I/AAAAAAAAAgw/EXEu5KHzEUI/s640/longroom.jpg" width="452" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qVfxOyv8GFs/TrdHn3slCSI/AAAAAAAAAg4/jfF_WCCSCic/s1600/Incarnation+Page%252C+KellsFol034rChiRhoMonogram%252C+c.800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qVfxOyv8GFs/TrdHn3slCSI/AAAAAAAAAg4/jfF_WCCSCic/s640/Incarnation+Page%252C+KellsFol034rChiRhoMonogram%252C+c.800.jpg" width="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Unfortunately shortly after I left Trinity College and was making my way down Grafton Street the weather took a serious turn for the worse. Once my boots had become thoroughly soaked I decided to go back to my hotel and wait to hear from my <i>one</i> contact in the country, a gentleman I had been introduced to during my visit to Düsseldorf.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Unexpectedly I wound up having a thoroughly lovely afternoon. Having become slightly chilled from all the rain, I headed for the shower and set up my laptop to play some of my favourite jazz. It was a big shower and I wasn't pressed for time, so I wound up laying on my back and singing along (the shower is the <i>only</i> circumstance in which I will sing) to Billie Holiday, Julie London, and Ella Fitzgerald. While I had had several frustrations leading up until that moment, I couldn't help but feel completely contented and at ease. I was in Ireland, a place I've dreamt of visiting for the last six years. While Dublin wasn't my first choice - I've always been more interested in Ireland's smaller, pastoral, southern communities - it was Ireland nonetheless and I was euphoric.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After taking a good long shower I reluctantly got out and began the grooming process, starting with drying my newly-auburn hair. Thanks to a spark of intuition (and some common sense) I delayed on getting dressed or putting on makeup, suspecting that thanks to the now-flooding conditions (thanks, Irish weather!) my acquaintance would be cancelling our dinner date. Well, I was right, and though I was disappointed I decided to take advantage of being stuck inside and do something decadent. So, I ordered room service and snuggled in my jammies (yes, I still call them that). I was thoroughly impressed by the hotel's clam chowder, and their cheesecake was also good though nothing to brag about. I was less impressed by my entertainment of choice: Pan Am. Eugh, that'll be on the chop-block soon enough I'm sure. I was hoping for something like Mad Men and instead I got something along the lines of The Playboy Club, which I couldn't even finish one episode of.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can't even begin to express how excited I was the next day when I woke up to sunshine! Feeling elated by the beautiful weather I got dressed as fast as I could and started out for all the landmarks I had wanted to see but hadn't yet. I started with Christ Church Cathedral, which has turned out to be one of my favourite parts of my whole trip. Built up on the foundations of an older church, it is a sprawling structure with gorgeous stonework and a wonderful atmosphere. I finally got to experience sun streaming through stained-glass windows, and I took a lot of time just taking it all in. It also has a great crypt which you are able to explore. Christ Church was a popular filming site for the television series The Tudors, and in the crypts were several of the costumes that appeared in the series. Another surprise I found in the crypt was an exhibit of a mummified cat and rat. The pair had become trapped in the cathedral's organ in the 1850s, and when they were finally discovered they were in a mummified state. It sounds terribly morbid but it was actually very interesting.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Attached to Christ Church Cathedral is a museum which explores the viking presence in Ireland over the centuries. While vikings aren't my favourite history subject it was an interesting exhibit (though more aimed at families I think) and I even got to learn how to write my name in "futhark", ancient viking runes. After that I wandered over to Liffey river and the north shore. I made it over to the Ha'Penny Bridge, as well as the 1785 Four Courts. I wandered along the (beautiful) river side and made my way up to a main traffic artery, O'Connell Street, and then up to the famous Henry Street where I managed to find some gifts for my family. By that time it was well into the afternoon, so I made a brief stop at my hotel before returning to the sights on the south side of the river. I got around to seeing 1752's Merrion Square, as well as (the exteriors of) the National Gallery (1864), Leinster House (1745), and the National Museum (1890). Running out of time, I then hurried over to Saint Patrick's Cathedral, first built in the 1190s, but renovated and restored over the years.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This was another experience I wager I'll have for the rest of my life. I arrived just as the sun was setting, and as it so happened the young boys' choir was practicing. My camera died almost immediately after my arrival, but on the bright side this allowed me to enjoy the music without distraction. I quietly seated myself in the nave, basking in the glow coming from the high stained-glass windows. The choir's singing was nothing short of celestial. While I find traditional choir music moving under any circumstances and am also clearly in awe of medieval religious sites, the combination of the Gothic cathedral and the music that was specifically intended for that setting was nearly overwhelming. Though I am staunchly atheist I would absolutely attend church if every experience was like that. Amusingly enough, because it was a practice the priest would often interrupt the boys would loud criticisms and comments on what needed to be adjusted. While I would have loved hearing the music all the way through I must admit that it was rather funny listening to the very particular priest. Unfortunately I couldn't stay long as the cathedral was closing, but I will always cherish the memory.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nm8_NcZoU2I/TsC66IaC36I/AAAAAAAAAi8/SfWfza6gTB8/s1600/dublin_ireland_attractions_052102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nm8_NcZoU2I/TsC66IaC36I/AAAAAAAAAi8/SfWfza6gTB8/s400/dublin_ireland_attractions_052102.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKOrVbGpH5s/TsC67By71eI/AAAAAAAAAjE/VdeVQoLAmUc/s1600/Ireland_Dublin_StPatrick_Long-1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HKOrVbGpH5s/TsC67By71eI/AAAAAAAAAjE/VdeVQoLAmUc/s400/Ireland_Dublin_StPatrick_Long-1280.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After leaving the Cathedral I wanted to complete one last thing on my to-do list: get fish and chips. The Irish Republic is certainly <b>not</b> England, and isn't even Britain, but I decided it was close enough and I desperately wanted to try fish and chips - a favourite of mine - in its native land. When I had met up with my City of a Thousand Welcomes host I had mentioned this, and he kindly recommended the best place to find some. Luckily this wasn't far off, so I picked some up en route to my hotel and was thoroughly satisfied.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My friend and I had rescheduled our dinner meeting for the next night, so once back at my hotel I got myself organized and waited for word. Unfortunately due to a prior commitment we had to push back our meeting time, and I had a vague feeling that things might not come to happen at all. Sure enough the hours passed and with them went my certainty that we would be meeting up at all. Finally, at shortly before 11 he messaged me to let me know that his engagement had run long and he wouldn't be able to make it. I bitterly (and perhaps a little unfairly) thought to myself that that had to be a first: imagine getting stood up <i>two nights in a row</i> by the <i>same person</i>! To add salt to the wound, had I not expected to be seeing this person (I'll remind you: the only person I knew in the entire country) I likely would have chosen to visit a different part of the country more in alignment with my interests. I don't regret going to Dublin and I did enjoy much of what I saw there, but I didn't relish the "adjustments" to my social calendar.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next day was once again sunny and clear, but for me it was off to the airport and back to Hamburg. Both the ride to the airport (via bus shuttle) and the flight were unremarkable (thank goodness), and I made it back "home" with no trouble at all; with only two days left at my workplace and less than a week to spend in Europe...</div>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-8763734336937988922011-11-06T13:45:00.000-08:002011-11-06T13:45:37.729-08:00I take it all backIf you've just come from the Tumblr account, ignore this.<br />
<br />
BUT for those of you who haven't, here's an update about the site. After a brief and unsatisfying affair with Tumblr I am crawling back to Blogspot. While I'm still going to be making changes to the layout and appearance I have learned that Blogspot is simply easier to work with when it comes to labeling posts, sorting material, posting photos, etcetera.<br />
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My apologies for the confusion,<br />
<br />
Arbiter Elegantiae<br />
<br />
P.S. Happy November!A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-81466867032539253872011-10-18T07:08:00.000-07:002011-10-18T07:08:36.297-07:00It's not you, it's me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LbtDcnqDRSw/Tp2ILK8_K6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/Zn6DUP935SI/s1600/4056665015_c6589e20f8_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LbtDcnqDRSw/Tp2ILK8_K6I/AAAAAAAAAgI/Zn6DUP935SI/s400/4056665015_c6589e20f8_z.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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My dearest readers,<br />
<br />
<i>Arbiter Elegantiae</i> has moved! As you are already aware the last year has brought many changes to my life. Consequently I'm going to be making some changes to the layout and appearance of the site to improve navigation and also to align it more closely with my current tastes. You will still be able to find all of my old posts on the <a href="http://arbiter-elegantiae.tumblr.com/%20">new site</a>.<br />
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I'll be continuing this evolution over the coming weeks and months (Rome, after all, wasn't built in a day), but they will all be for the better.<br />
<br />
<br />
You can find all my new content (and old content) here:<br />
<a href="http://arbiter-elegantiae.tumblr.com/">http://arbiter-elegantiae.tumblr.com/</a>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-44281118407326667692011-10-16T04:49:00.000-07:002011-10-16T04:49:20.046-07:00Listening To: Rory CharlesYesterday after spending a good four hours at the hair salon (I'll get to that later) I was wandering about downtown Hamburg when I passed a large crowd around a street performer. I paused to listen, and as it turned out I really liked what I heard. The performer is a guy named Rory Charles, who is from Manchester, England. His sound is a little like Bon Iver and a lot like Fleet Foxes. It's folksy with liberal use of falsetto. They were selling CDs so I bought one, and have listened to it a good ten times since yesterday. It's nice chill music, perfect for the cold autumn weather we've been having here in Germany. I definitely recommend you check out his website and support his music. Enjoy!<br />
<br />
http://rorycharles.com/<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QaHXagM24mI/TprEr7v-A8I/AAAAAAAAAgA/mAigHb9pQ3s/s1600/3402343226-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QaHXagM24mI/TprEr7v-A8I/AAAAAAAAAgA/mAigHb9pQ3s/s400/3402343226-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-88591782296216901562011-10-11T15:27:00.000-07:002011-10-13T00:17:46.469-07:00"Dankesch- Thank y-.... Merci."Bonjour, mes cheries!<br />
<br />
I am once again back in Hamburg after an exceptionally busy long weekend in France. Before I cover my French adventures, however, I'll begin with Friday:<br />
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<b>Friday:</b> Friday was a really, really good day. I was already out-of-my-mind excited to be going to France, so the day got off to a great start. Then for lunch the whole Online department got together and went to a local restaurant. It was this great place inside a building that used to be a warehouse or butcher's shop or something. The inside was all exposed brick, and there was a great chandelier made out of painted antique axes. The tables were particularly interesting: they were wooden, but the wood had been painted in myriad colours, then given a very shiny varnish so that the tables almost seemed to be tiled. I was facing the windows, so when the conversation switched to German I got to enjoy the view of the tall maples and the typically-European apartment buildings opposite. We were having inconsistent weather, so I could watch as the rain transitioned to dappled sunlight and then back again.<br />
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After lunch - which was an excellent mushroom penne - we migrated a door or two over to a local coffee place. This one definitely used to be the butcher's shop. It was huge and open inside, with a high sloped ceiling. The storage area was separated by some shelving which divided the space but did so elegantly and without eliminating the sense of space and openness. There was a long bar along the left side, and to the right and centre were scattered long wooden benches and clustered seats. The tables were decorated with white orchids and glass vases filled with coffee beans. The treats looked amazing, but since we'd just had lunch I stuck with a drink, which was sooooo gooooood! Once again I sat facing the windows, basking in the periodic bursts of sunlight while enjoying the banter of my coworkers. I'm really enjoying the Online department; they're a great group, and the dynamic is one that is really fun to be around. They're friendly and inclusive and very easy to joke around with, which I certainly appreciate - it lends an ease to life that is sorely needed when so much else takes such effort. Friday was the first time since arriving in Europe that I actually felt like I might not want to leave; like I had something here that I might want to build on, that I may <i>actually</i> have found a niche into which I might fit. It was a really, really nice feeling.<br />
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The afternoon passed quickly enough, and then it was off to the airport. Things went without a hitch until I arrived at my gate, at which point they announced that my flight would be delayed by 45 minutes. This begun something of a stress-fest for me as I was supposed to be connecting with another flight before arriving in Lyon. Thankfully several other passengers were in a similar situation so the airline announced that our connecting flight would wait for our arrival. Despite the setback the flights went by quickly and before I knew it I was collecting my luggage and meeting my host, a distant relative. By the time we arrived at his residence it was quite late, so we said goodnight and all went to get some much-needed rest.<br />
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<b>Saturday: </b>The next morning my cousin arrived from Lille, and so the family took me out and about to see the sights of Lyon. We started by visiting la Maison des Canuts, a small museum in the silk weaving district dedicated to silk's history in Lyon. Afterwards we walked through a typical French market, and then went out for lunch together at a typical French restaurant. The appetizer and entrée were alright, but what really impressed me was dessert. It was a fondant au chocolat (yes, the same dessert I had in Paris) which was ridiculously good.<br />
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After lunch we visited the famous Basilique de Fourvière, constructed in honour of the Virgin Mary after Lyon was spared from a plague epidemic. It sits high on a hill overlooking Lyon and its two rivers, the Rhone and the Soane. It is easily the most elaborate building I've seen thus far in Europe: every inch of it was covered in mosaic and cold detailing, which suits my taste just fine. It was absolutely huge, and awe-inspiring both inside and out.<br />
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The exterior:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7GNaIROw0M0/TpSJ7MDc-lI/AAAAAAAAAeo/rUjK-sbKxtA/s1600/Basilique_de_Fourvie%25CC%2580re_from_Saone_%2528Lyon%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7GNaIROw0M0/TpSJ7MDc-lI/AAAAAAAAAeo/rUjK-sbKxtA/s640/Basilique_de_Fourvie%25CC%2580re_from_Saone_%2528Lyon%2529.jpg" width="640" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The interior:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dXbTKyjnqZo/TpSKDw7vhbI/AAAAAAAAAew/CJwF3EIEVyo/s1600/P003098_redimensionner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dXbTKyjnqZo/TpSKDw7vhbI/AAAAAAAAAew/CJwF3EIEVyo/s640/P003098_redimensionner.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>After the Basilique de Fourvière we went to another church, the Church of Saint John the Baptist. This church was much older, constructed back in the 14th century or something close. It was also where Henri IV married Marie de Medici, which I found totally fascinating. It was much more austere and had a whole different aura to it. It was such an amazing feeling to touch a pillar and know that hundreds of years ago nobles stood in the same place witnessing the marriage of a king. Well, at least for me it was.<br />
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The exterior:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XYmFMh3w32Y/TpSMMq7XJpI/AAAAAAAAAe4/xsa5y978tP0/s1600/Cathedrale-saint-jean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="593" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XYmFMh3w32Y/TpSMMq7XJpI/AAAAAAAAAe4/xsa5y978tP0/s640/Cathedrale-saint-jean.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
The interior:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_bij3sfuMZk/TpSMU38aROI/AAAAAAAAAfA/f9uAh_uQ_w8/s1600/Cathedral+Saint+John+the+Baptist+Lyon+Vieux+DSCN4312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_bij3sfuMZk/TpSMU38aROI/AAAAAAAAAfA/f9uAh_uQ_w8/s640/Cathedral+Saint+John+the+Baptist+Lyon+Vieux+DSCN4312.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
One of the most interesting features of the church was its numerous headless statues. During the French Revolution the strong anti-clerical movement had prompted revolutionaries to behead the various statues of saints and bishops.<br />
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After our church visits we wandered along the streets of old Lyon, where I got a first hand look at the Italian influences and even got to walk through one of the "traboules". These were long covered passages that wound between buildings. In the old days they were used to protect valuable silk from water damage during winter rains, but during the Second World War they could be used to escape the Gestapo.<br />
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After everyone had done enough wandering we headed back to the apartment, where I took a much-needed nap. That evening my cousin, his friend and I all went out to a local pub, though we kept it a fairly quiet and early evening as my cousin was getting sick and I was far too tired to begin stirring up trouble.<br />
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<b>Sunday:</b> In the morning I (very reluctantly) got up, though life was made much better by a French breakfast: baguette with butter and blackberry jam, paired with an exceptionally large mug of tea. Then it was off to the train station to begin my trip to Paris. Luckily after having taken the train to Munich I had a better idea of what to expect and managed to find my seat fairly easily. I stayed awake most of the way enjoying the absolutely stunning French landscape. It was a rainy and misty morning, so most of the fields were shrouded by cloud and fog. The countryside was quite like that of southern Germany, though the character of the towns was markedly different. The brick of the houses seemed slightly older, and was a yellow-brown colour rather than the customary German white. The red tile of the roofs was also slightly darker, and at times parts of the roof had completely fallen in. Spotting the landscape were creamy coloured milk cows and the odd horse, plodding along the lanes that were always bordered by hedges. One image I'll never forget was a bridge we passed. It looked to be a construction of the Romans (not unlikely given southern France was once their stomping grounds) that passed through a quiet valley. It was so old and unused that moss and trees had grown along its top, and the mist seemed to hover around its arches very prettily. I wish we had these kinds of things back home.<br />
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Eventually I drifted off to sleep, and next thing I knew we were arriving in Paris. I must say the outskirt of the city isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I got off the train and then had to navigate the metro to get to my hotel, which wasn't <i>too</i> difficult but was scary. The Paris metro is nothing short of filthy and there were all sorts of disreputable characters hanging about. Despite that it was the middle of the day I did my best to get out of there as quickly as possible. Once I surfaced I got a little bit turned around on the streets, but was eventually able to locate my hotel and breathe a sigh of relief.<br />
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I stayed just long enough to check in and drop off my things before turning around and heading right back out. The first thing I encountered was the huge Eglise de la Madeleine, which looks remarkably like the Parthenon.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S8nbIxZjgjA/TpSS0GaTnhI/AAAAAAAAAfI/cr_cFEY5nlg/s1600/madeleine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S8nbIxZjgjA/TpSS0GaTnhI/AAAAAAAAAfI/cr_cFEY5nlg/s640/madeleine.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
My goal, however, lay elsewhere, so I plowed on and was quickly at the Place de la Concorde and the Jardins des Tuileries. The gardens were absolutely beautiful, and the autumn foliage added to the expereince. I wish pictures could better convey the real scale of the place, but both the Louvre and the gardens are absolutely <b>huge</b>.<br />
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Place de la Concorde:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OIRZm4fpY04/TpSVFRIbmpI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/XC2eHN0lDeE/s1600/crillon+Facadenight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="489" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OIRZm4fpY04/TpSVFRIbmpI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/XC2eHN0lDeE/s640/crillon+Facadenight.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Approaching the Louvre itself was just... there are no words. It has been a dream of mine for a long time to see the French palaces. I wish I had had more time to really absorb the scenery and the history, but unfortunately I was on a timeline and the lineup to get in was several hundred long.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WItNNMm8kcc/TpSV7SzCgPI/AAAAAAAAAfY/u4pYI5wMdzA/s1600/Jardin-de-Tuileries-081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WItNNMm8kcc/TpSV7SzCgPI/AAAAAAAAAfY/u4pYI5wMdzA/s640/Jardin-de-Tuileries-081.jpg" width="640" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KrK5CYTkUjg/TpSYUMzkBiI/AAAAAAAAAfg/Oo4q5vAUX-k/s1600/Louvre_Museum_Wikimedia_Commons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KrK5CYTkUjg/TpSYUMzkBiI/AAAAAAAAAfg/Oo4q5vAUX-k/s640/Louvre_Museum_Wikimedia_Commons.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Once inside I decided to get a portable audio tour and started my wandering. In hindsight I definitely should have planned better, but there was so little time there wasn't much I could do. Despite access to maps the Louvre is - as I said - gigantic and it is exceptionally easy to get lost. So, I wound up wandering all the way through the Egyptian section, which I have little interest in (and at which point my camera battery died - <b>FUCK!</b>). I finally got out and managed to see the <i>Venus de Milo</i>, <i>Winged Victory</i> (Nike), some of the Greek statue collection, the French crown jewels, and my far-and-away favourite, the Italian painters collection. In this section I got to see Caravaggio, Da Vinci (yes, the <i>Mona Lisa</i>, as well as <i>Madonna on the Rocks</i> and several others), Raphael, Michelangelo, and many, many, many others. Some of my stand-out favourites were the massive <i>Raft of the Medusa</i> by Gericault and the equally large-scale <i>Liberty Leading the People</i> by Delacroix, both of which could have easily covered the side of a small house. All too soon it seemed the museum was closing, and that was before I had had a chance to see a personal favourite, David's <i>Coronation of Napoleon</i>. Alas, I suppose I'll just have to come back one day.<br />
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After the Louvre closed I walked back along the Jardin de Tuileries, where I sat for quite some time to people watch. At one point some sleazy French guy gave me the eye and then made a kiss-face, which was perhaps the most hilarious thing that happened all weekend. How typical! After that I wandered up the Champs Elysées towards l'Arc de Triomphe. Needless to say there were plenty of fabulous stores, but as it turned out I restrained myself enough that I only bought one (reasonably priced) thing: a navy blue cashmere sweater with camel-coloured suede elbow patches - more on this later. Finally I headed back to my hotel where I had the <a href="http://arbiterelegantiae-fashionfilmfeminism.blogspot.com/2011/10/happy-thanksgiving-from-paris.html">wonderful Thanksgiving dinner I posted about earlier.</a><br />
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<b>Monday:</b> Getting up on Monday was quite possibly even harder than getting up on Sunday. I don't know what kind of sheets they had on the bed (probably Egyptian cotton), but it was delightfully comfortable and the last sleep-in I had was more than a week previous. But I figured I have my whole life to sleep and only a few hours left in Paris, so up I got and headed out. Unfortunately what I didn't know was that Parisian stores don't open until 10:30 on weekdays. Uh, excuse me <i>what?!</i> Yep. 10:30 ladies and gentlemen. So I mostly wound up wandering around the Champs Elysées waiting for things to open and feeling irritated by French laziness (or so I saw it). Eventually things did open though, and I accomplished one last thing I had really wanted to do: I bought macaroons at Ladurée Royale. They are reputed to have some of the best Parisian macaroons, but honestly 80% of why I went was their packaging, which is totally beautiful. I got a package of six, including chocolate, vanilla, caramel, raspberry, orange blossom, and one other flavour I no longer recall.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3svcEp9yW1w/TpSgKeV4B1I/AAAAAAAAAfo/mXCccRKzKlk/s1600/ladure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3svcEp9yW1w/TpSgKeV4B1I/AAAAAAAAAfo/mXCccRKzKlk/s640/ladure.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mAUOlJqmhB4/TpSgKxePLdI/AAAAAAAAAfw/PH7ZKd6qT_4/s1600/thumb.php.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mAUOlJqmhB4/TpSgKxePLdI/AAAAAAAAAfw/PH7ZKd6qT_4/s640/thumb.php.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_oPoymaXmLQ/TpSgRy9bSwI/AAAAAAAAAf4/Yu6oQ2sJwyI/s1600/IMGP3152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="448" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_oPoymaXmLQ/TpSgRy9bSwI/AAAAAAAAAf4/Yu6oQ2sJwyI/s640/IMGP3152.jpg" width="640" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I got a lavendar coloured box like the one pictured above, which came in a beautiful green bag. I have every intention of keeping both for the rest of forever.<br />
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After my stop at Ladurée I had just enough time to go back to the hotel, collect my suitcase and check out. Unfortunately this process was made significantly longer by the two women ahead of me who decided that they were going to dispute <i>every detail</i> of their hotel invoice. Really ladies? You think a four star hotel is trying to scam you? Of course in the end they realised that all the charges were justified, and succeeded only in wasting vast amounts of my time while simultaneously frustrating me to death. At long last I was finally able to get directions to the airport shuttle (an hour long journey) and be on my way.<br />
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Getting to the station was fairly simple (the hotel provided me with a small map and directions) and the journey itself was fine: I spent most of it reading <i>Perfume: the Story of a Murderer</i>, which was my chosen entertainment for my French trip. I had decided it was a good choice because it's by a German author (Patrick Süskind) but set in Paris and other parts of France. Also it's a really good book. Anyway, unfortunately once I got to the airport things started to devolve fairly quickly. At this point I was already feeling extraordinarily travel-worn and a little fed up with the French in general (10:30 - <i>I mean really??</i>). The thing is, I somehow managed to forget that I don't do well with extended public travel. Not in Europe, not in North America. I just get sick of people being in my space, and this was aggravated by the sheer volume of obnoxious fat tourists (no pun intended). Suddenly stupidity seems to be omnipresent, and while usually I can manage enough patience to handle this graciously, when I get travel-overdose I turn into the Queen of the Death Glare. While in the Louvre I was constantly irritated by slow-moving people, whether they were old, young, or just obese. Then there were the frequent Public Displays of Affection (PDA) which were enough to make me feel violent. At one point I recall thinking that if I saw one more Euro-trash guy groping his girlfriend I was going to lose it. I mean honestly, <b>what exactly</b> in the <b>goddamn Louvre Museum</b> is making you horny right now?! Do you absolutely <b>have</b> to feel up your lady-friend's ass while in a huge public area? Would you want to less were I to drive a stake through your palm? Thought so.<br />
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Worse than the European gropers, however, were the children. It's no secret that I strongly dislike children, but in extended public experiences like this weekend it morphs into something more like undiluted loathing. While at the Louvre my irritation was sparked by screaming toddlers whose idiotic parents thought it would be a good idea to bring them along. For starters, the Louvre is a biiiig undertaking even for adults. Its collection is so vast that it would take days or weeks to fully appreciate it, and its also just physically big: it takes a long time and a fair amount of energy to trek around it, up and down stairs and through halls and whatnot. Even as someone who has studied both art and history I found it very tiring. So, as a brainless toddler with no appreciation whatsoever of what's in front of me I imagine the Louvre would be something comparable to Purgatory. To add, the food was only located centrally and could not be brought into the galleries, so the children were not just tired and bored but also hungry. I couldn't decide who to detest more: the children for making the noise, or the parents for their total lack of understanding or consideration. Either they're too feeble-minded to figure out it's a bad idea, or they don't give a damn, neither of which endear them to me. Plus, children are just so <i>annoying</i>. I remember walking through the Egyptian halls, admiring huge carved idols that had been worshiped <i>literally</i> thousands of years ago, when up comes some snot-nosed little brat who slaps his filthy palm down on the aforementioned statue. His mother, trailing behind, casually calls out "touche pas!", to which the kid responds by doing the same goddamn thing to the next item within reach, which in turn received the exact same response from the mother. Was it wrong of me to want to exterminate both of them? Don't know, don't much care.<br />
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A comedian once compared children to drunk adults. They're mentally short-handed little assholes who will weep or shriek with joy from one moment to the next with little to no provocation, both done in the most noisy way possible. Whatever happened to the days when children were seen and not heard? Or better yet, <i>not</i> seen and not heard; when they were shut away from the public until they were old enough to behave with some shred of decorum? Society shouldn't be a right, it should be earned.<br />
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You may be thinking that this is an awful vitriolic rant to have flowed forth from just a few hours spent in the company of crying kids. But oh no, the Louvre was not the end of my encounters with the Satan spawn. As I left off earlier, I had arrived at the airport and was waiting to check in when things really took a nose-dive. Directly ahead of me was a family consisting of two parents, an aunt or nanny (henceforth nanny), and an assortment of three or four rug rats, one of whom was being carried by the nanny and was perhaps 18 months old. The infant was, of course, shrieking as loudly as it could, while the slightly obese nanny did absolutely nothing to shut the thing up. I quietly prayed to myself that wherever they were going was as far from me as possible. But because this was apparently The Day From Hell, once we cleared security I of course discovered that not only were they at the same part of the Terminal as me, but they were going to be on the same plane. Cue death wish. There also happened to be two other crying infants in the vicinity, so I swiftly left to go find something to occupy my time.<br />
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I wound up in the duty-free section looking for some chocolate to ease up my all-consuming hatred for humanity. As I was purchasing it, however, I noticed the woman placing it in a special bag, which she then appeared to airlock, which I thought was strange because I was just going to eat it anyway. On closer inspection I saw that it said clearly "Do not open until you have reached your final destination". <b>What the fuck, France?!</b> I had already surrendered my baggage AND made it through security, I was buying the stuff from the <i>airport vendor</i>, but for some reason the French figured that it should be sealed up until I returned to Hamburg, which completely defeated the fucking point and just gave me another thing to carry.<br />
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Livid, I went in search of the most sugary coffee I could find. I even took the trouble to order in French as I really needed them to get the order right. I ordered a Cafe Mocha, which on their own menu clearly described espresso, steamed milk and chocolate syrup. What I received instead was the shittiest coffee of all time. It tasted like dirt, and after three sips I gave up and threw it away.<br />
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The "fun" didn't end there. When boarding time was finally approaching it became crowded, and of course the little demon child from earlier began crying again. And kept crying. And crying. The useless nanny brought The Thing right up next to me, at which point I was so repulsed I had to step back two metres so as not to curse or explode in some violent manner. At long last the plane started boarding (second half of the plane first), though when I got on I noticed that certain passengers had ignored the order in which people were invited to load and had just piled on whenever they saw fit. A little enough offense, true, but in my current state of mind this just infuriated me more. Tired, murderous, and overdosed on train tickets, plane tickets, metro and bus tickets, I managed to settle in the wrong seat <i>twice</i>, which was embarrassing and so very frustrating.<br />
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When the plane began takeoff I soon discovered that demon child was only two or three rows behind me because - you guessed it - it started crying again. This continued for the entirety of the hour-and-a-half long flight. When we finally got off the plane (the expression "like a bat out of hell" comes to mind) the escape was only temporary as everyone wound up at the baggage carrousel anyway. I hardly should have to say that Satan's minion cried the entire time we waited. It's a miracle I didn't commit a massacre.<br />
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Finally I escaped to a cab, and then to my apartment which was blissfully empty.<br />
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Reflecting back on the trip there are (of course) things I would have done differently. I would have planned my tour of the Louvre ahead of time, and I probably would have planned to stay longer in Paris. Actually, I probably would have planned the trip for shortly after my arrival in Europe. I think part of the trouble with this weekend is that I'm simply tired of the foreign. Different countries and cultures are wonderful and very educational, but being away from your own home and culture for so long is exhausting, and after a while you begin to fatigue of all the extra effort needed for everyday life. It's easy to start to resent differences that you once celebrated, simply because they make life a little more challenging. I don't have the same boundless energy that comes with excitement over new travels, rather I feel burnt out and ready to return home. I find myself in a strange kind of state - I am still very much foreign and there is so much I don't know (notably language), but at the same time I've been here much longer than most tourists and seem to have absorbed a great deal of European snobbery: I often feel contemptuous of tourists despite essentially being one. Strange indeed.<br />
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A final factor which contributed to the exhaustion of the weekend was the language. My French skills are infinitely superior to my German skills, but for the last three months I have tried to speak German whenever I've possibly been capable. So it's kind of my default language at the moment, though I obviously speak English 95% of the time. French has been a far-distant third. This weekend was disorienting because all of a sudden the order was rearranged. I found myself starting to thank the French servers with a "Dankeschön", which was followed by a stuttered "Thank you" and finally a "Merci" (hence the post title). In a twist which I might at another time call "amusing", today when I returned to work I found myself inclined to respond in French rather than German. This language dyslexia is annoying and just concludes with me spending most of my time stuttering incoherently.<br />
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Anyway, there's much more to say but it's very late and I have to work tomorrow, so I'm afraid I'll have to conclude here. More to come soon, I promise.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-89729250585628010092011-10-09T14:19:00.000-07:002011-10-09T14:19:32.887-07:00Happy Thanksgiving from Paris!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EnB90_pjPrE/TpIPMjE8tHI/AAAAAAAAAek/ZAKorvO3tHE/s1600/post-thanksgiving-pic-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EnB90_pjPrE/TpIPMjE8tHI/AAAAAAAAAek/ZAKorvO3tHE/s400/post-thanksgiving-pic-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Bonjour, mes amours!<br />
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I will, of course, have a long update coming along in the next day or two chronicling my adventures in France, but I thought I'd take a moment to wish everyone a wonderful Canadian Thanksgiving!<br />
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Without giving too much away, I'll say that I celebrated with a visit to the Louvre, a walk along the Champs Elysées (and perhaps a teensy bit of shopping), and a fantastic meal at my hotel here in Paris. My Thanksgiving dinner was:<br />
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• Appetizer: cold prawn and crab salad with tomato, avocado, cucumber and carrot with a slightly vinegar-y dressing. Taken, of course, with some incredible baguette and butter. Totally fabulous, trés Francais.<br />
• Entrée: seared halibut with a pesto sauce and mushroom risotto, with a side of mixed greens and creamy dressing. Very, very good.<br />
• Dessert: fondant au chocolate with strawberries and a vanilla créme sauce, paired with Earl Grey tea. No one does fondant like the French.<br />
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It wasn't exactly mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie, but it was absolutely delicious and a perfect end to my day. They even played La Vie en Rose during the meal, which I <i>loved</i> but figured that the poor servers were probably tired to death of hearing. I would have taken pictures but unfortunately my camera died today part-way through the Greek sculptures hall - more on that later. Anyway, though I wish I could be sharing the wonders of France with my amazing family for now all I can do is send them my love. I hope you're all having equally lovely holidays, or, if it's not a holiday where you are then I hope you're enjoying a pleasant weekend.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-89883181516012070532011-10-06T14:21:00.000-07:002011-11-14T00:40:03.513-08:00Listening To: Around the World PlaylistAlright, so this (small) project has been on the back-burner for many weeks now... or months, I suppose, since I started it before I left for Europe. Ideally I would have been able to collect more songs and give it better flow, but I've been so short on time lately that it just wasn't happening.<br />
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Basically I wanted to gather a collection of music relating to travel, distance, or European cities. I kicked things off with an upbeat Euro-club vibe, but after a few tracks things mellow out into a more relaxed vacation feel before taking a slight rise in tempo so as to bring things full circle (the first and last tracks are both called <i>Around the World</i>).<br />
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Hopefully one day I'll be able to come back and streamline this, but for the time being, enjoy!<br />
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<i>Big Jet Plane (Stern* Disco Edit)</i> - Angus and Julia Stone. This one was sitting at the top of HypeM's most popular list, which was how I found it. Sometimes the masses are wrong, but this isn't one of those times. It's chill and funky, something you won't be able to resist nodding your head to.<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1ensa/Angus+and+Julia+Stone+-+Big+Jet+Plane+%28Stern*+disco+edit%29">http://hypem.com/item/1ensa/Angus+and+Julia+Stone+-+Big+Jet+Plane+%28Stern*+disco+edit%29</a><br />
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<i>Don't Lick the Rainbow (Mike Posner/Daft Punk/Mord Fustang)</i> - Basic Physics. Mike Posner can be reasonably be depended on for catchy stuff, but what I really loved was how Daft Punk was worked into this - I only wish there were more of the <i>Harder Better Faster Stronger</i> sample. This is another good one to have on hand for your Friday nights.<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1c5sm/Basic+Physics+-+Don%27t+Lick+the+Rainbow+%28Mike+Posner+%2F%2F+Mord+Fustang+%2F%2F+Daft+Punk%29">http://hypem.com/item/1c5sm/Basic+Physics+-+Don%27t+Lick+the+Rainbow+%28Mike+Posner+%2F%2F+Mord+Fustang+%2F%2F+Daft+Punk%29</a><br />
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<i>Flying Overseas (Soul Clap Efunk Mix)</i> - Theophilus London. Loved the original, love the remix. This manages to retain the tropical bliss of its parent track while adding an intriguing beat to keep your attention.<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1cfsx/Theophilus+London+-+Flying+Overseas+%28Soul+Clap+Efunk+Mix%29">http://hypem.com/item/1cfsx/Theophilus+London+-+Flying+Overseas+%28Soul+Clap+Efunk+Mix%29</a><br />
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<i>I Stand Alone (Ocelot Remix)</i> - Theophilus London. While the original was pretty good I think I prefer this remix. Usually I'm not a dubstep fan but this is a definite exception - while it adds the trademark beat it doesn't sacrifice melody like most dubstep does.<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/artist/I%20Stand%20Alone%20%28Ocelot%20Remix%29">http://hypem.com/artist/I%20Stand%20Alone%20%28Ocelot%20Remix%29</a><br />
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<i>After Party </i>- The Lonely Island feat. Santigold. Okay, so I won't lie, I love pretty much everything The Lonely Island comes out with. <i>Motherlover</i>? Yep. <i>3 Way (The Golden Rule)</i>? It was practically on repeat. <i>Jack Sparrow</i>? It's on my iPod. <i>After Party</i>, much like the others, is ridiculous and humorous but also super catchy, which is a pretty rad combination (pardon the '90s slang). Enjoy!<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/artist/The%20Lonely%20Island%20ft.%20Santigold">http://hypem.com/artist/The%20Lonely%20Island%20ft.%20Santigold</a><br />
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<i>Midnight Life</i> - The White Panda. I won't shy away from saying that The White Panda's most recent album disappointed me. I reminisce about the days when they released infectious hits like <i>Golden Encore</i>, <i>What Lonely Girls Do</i>, and <i>Hold On to My Momma</i>. However, <i>Midnight Life</i> hearkens back to the days of their more brilliant combos, when they somehow made awesome music even more awesome by mixing it with other awesome music. Excuse the over-sell.<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1ea7n/The+White+Panda+-+Midnight+Life">http://hypem.com/item/1ea7n/The+White+Panda+-+Midnight+Life</a><br />
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<i>Club Paradise</i> - Drake. Ahhhh Canadian Pride! Good ol' Wheelchair Jimmy has done it again and come out with an intelligent piece of work that you'll want to keep close. The background melody is chill, the harmonies are slightly intoxicating, and his singing in the chorus is the perfect way to tie it all together. Drake, you rep Canada well!<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1e9e8/Drake+-+Club+Paradise">http://hypem.com/item/1e9e8/Drake+-+Club+Paradise</a><br />
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<i>Slow John (Lil Wayne & Com Truise)</i> - The Hood Internet. Quite frankly 99% of Lil John's lyrics offend me, but occasionally I'll overlook that. The Hood Internet put out a few new tracks a few weeks back, all of which I enjoyed.<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1br61/The+Hood+Internet+-+Slow+John+%28Lil+Wayne+x+Com+Truise%29">http://hypem.com/item/1br61/The+Hood+Internet+-+Slow+John+%28Lil+Wayne+x+Com+Truise%29</a><br />
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<i>Bass Like TV (Dev & The So So Glos)</i> - The Hood Internet. This one's a bit of an unapologetic party-girl anthem. The more power to ya.<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1dz4s/The+Hood+Internet+-+Bass+Like+TV+%28Dev+x+The+So+So+Glos%29">http://hypem.com/item/1dz4s/The+Hood+Internet+-+Bass+Like+TV+%28Dev+x+The+So+So+Glos%29</a><br />
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<i>World of Swimsuits (The Cool Kids & Ford & Lopatin)</i> - The Hood Internet. Maybe it's because of the oh-so-subtle '80s vibe this track has going, but of the three from The Hood Internet it's my favourite. Try not to dance along, I challenge you.<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1dz4v/The+Hood+Internet+-+World+Of+Swimsuits+%28The+Cool+Kids+x+Ford+&+Lopatin%29">http://hypem.com/item/1dz4v/The+Hood+Internet+-+World+Of+Swimsuits+%28The+Cool+Kids+x+Ford+&+Lopatin%29</a><br />
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<i>Australia (Peter Bjorn and John Remix)</i> - The Shins. So I gather that The Shins were real big back in '07 around when I was graduating from high school, but apparently I totally missed that boat. Regardless, this remix is a major improvement on the original. It is catchier than herpes, and waaaay more fun.<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1140v/The+Shins+-+Australia+%28Peter+Bjorn+&+John+Remix%29">http://hypem.com/item/1140v/The+Shins+-+Australia+%28Peter+Bjorn+&+John+Remix%29</a><br />
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<i>Party Rock Anthem</i> - LMFAO. Okay, so this is yet another track that I'm waaaay behind the bandwagon on, but on the off chance you haven't jammed to this already I hope you enjoy it now:<br />
<a href="http://hypem.com/item/1cs5h/LMFAO+-+Party+Rock+Anthem">http://hypem.com/item/1cs5h/LMFAO+-+Party+Rock+Anthem</a><br />
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<i>Drive Motion Picture Soundtrack</i> - Cliff Martinez. I haven't had a chance to see <i>Drive</i> yet as it won't even be released here until early 2012, but I've heard very positive things. I have, however, checked out its soundtrack, which is a work of brilliance. I've already posted on Kavinsky & Lovefoxxx's <i>Nightcall</i>, which kicks off <i>Drive</i>'s soundtrack in excellent style. The sampled music is expertly selected, and followed by a score which leaves absolutely nothing to be desired. If you're at all a fan of film scores this is a keeper. You can buy it off Amazon or iTunes, or if you're cheap you can find the tracks on Grooveshark.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-41707981169769335652011-10-05T10:41:00.000-07:002011-10-05T10:41:42.341-07:00Third Time's a CharmOkay, so it's been months since I managed three posts in one day, but I figured I spent so long talking about my dirndl that I should probably post some pictures of it. So, without further adieu:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-317PPJtg1sg/ToyWNhKG-8I/AAAAAAAAAec/E7F9Cr4qRWU/s1600/DSCN1867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-317PPJtg1sg/ToyWNhKG-8I/AAAAAAAAAec/E7F9Cr4qRWU/s640/DSCN1867.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-5928344969901831942011-10-05T10:34:00.000-07:002011-10-05T10:43:11.040-07:00Marvelous Manicure: Snake PrintI know everyone, it has been <b>way too long</b> since I uploaded a manicure pic. However, after all Friday night's partying on Saturday I was very ready to settle down to some docile activity. I've also been absolutely obsessed with snake print recently, which you should all know is a hot ticket item this season. I'll confess that I didn't always love it the way I do now. In fact, I used to think it was trashy and gross, which is why this sudden love for it surprises me.<br />
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But now for the details: I started with a coat of Chanel's Particuliere, then used Sally Hansen nail pens in gold and black to add the scales. Overall I'm pretty pleased with how things turned out, especially given how damn hard snake print is to replicate. I won't even get into how long it took to do my right hand.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sewsNn8Mqc8/ToyU5eQ1KyI/AAAAAAAAAeI/g0Fg8dcZf3w/s1600/DSCN1841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sewsNn8Mqc8/ToyU5eQ1KyI/AAAAAAAAAeI/g0Fg8dcZf3w/s400/DSCN1841.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-10517080263654940082011-10-05T10:23:00.000-07:002011-10-05T10:23:56.632-07:00The Beginning of the EndHappy October everyone!<br />
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This week I moved to the Online department, kicking off the last phase of my internship here in Hamburg. While the work so far isn't quite as familiar as what we did in Design, it <i>is</i> quite similar to what we did in Advertising. I expect it will wind up being a fairly even blend of the last two departments. Four out of five of my new coworkers are tall blond guys (how German!); the fifth is a petite brunette girl. Two of the boys look so similar they could be twins, which was thoroughly confusing when I was having names explained to me. Having now spent two days in their company I can confidently say they are a friendly bunch and I foresee us all getting along quite well. The whole bunch are complete coffee addicts, so at least three or four times daily we head to the company espresso machine for a brief social and a hit of caffeine. I've found this has been a good opportunity to break the ice and get to know them a little.<br />
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If living/working in Germany has taught me anything it's that the key to getting to know people is persistence. It would seem that especially when cultural and language differences are introduced everyone becomes quite shy, and it's up to you to help them over it. At this point I just do my best to be relaxed, humorous, and inquisitive, and they usually get too distracted by my 21 questions to feel overly self-conscious. So, before you know it everyone is friends. This isn't to say that you'll all be going on weekend shopping trips together (at least not for a while), but at the very least you'll be able to chat and banter comfortably, which counts for an awful lot.<br />
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Things in general are pretty great right now. I'm indescribably excited for my trips to France/Ireland, and am also a lot happier now that my return home isn't quite so distant. Furthermore, plans for my return are slowly coming together. I always like to have plans in place: not just Plan A, but Plan B, Plan C, etcetera. I think I've already mentioned the career opportunity in Toronto, which is currently a tentative Plan A <i>if</i> things come together. What's really making me content, however, is that I now have two additional back-up plans if Toronto doesn't work out. Over the last couple of weeks two particular Design companies have been brought to my attention. One is based in Vancouver, and the other has locations in both Montréal and Toronto, not to mention in several European locations. I haven't had much time to research the former (I only discovered it today), but the latter is quite prestigious and could be a major step career-wise.<br />
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If life works out perfectly here's how it will go: I will return from Germany and begin on the Toronto project. Following the Toronto project (which could be anything from 6 months to a year, who knows?) I would be able to score a job at either the Montreal or Toronto site of my preferred Design company, and a while down the road could possibly spend a year abroad in their Parisian office. Plan B (which is still pretty great): if Toronto doesn't happen then I would hope my German internship would be impressive enough to get me an internship either at my first choice in Montreal/Toronto <i>or</i> (Plan C) at my second choice in Vancouver, which would conclude with a job and pick up where Plan A left off. So, no matter what I have a plan and a way forward. The idea of being directionless or without a goal terrifies me a little. Also, I have a bet going with a friend of mine to see who can be more successful by the time our 10 year high school reunion comes around, and I have no intention of losing (en garde Sam!).<br />
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As for the long weekend (Monday was German Unity Day), it was pretty good. Friday night a few of the Design people took me out to celebrate my last day with them, and so first we hit up the Schanze, followed by some weird sisha (?) bar since it was ladies' night, and concluding at the Reeperbahn. I didn't get back home until 6:30, so I spent most of Saturday in bed catching up on some rest.<br />
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On Sunday I met up with a friend from work at a place called The Beach Club. It's right down by the banks of the Elbe, and it's basically this big patio. The thing is, the patio is covered in sand and beach chairs, and all the drinks are tropically-themed. I gathered it's the place to go when there's no such thing as a real beach nearby. They played fun techno music and it was a gorgeous day so we stayed there for quite some time (getting complimentary drinks from the bar - not bad!). After that we strolled along the docks on the Elbe, then took a ferry down past the Altona to an area whose name I don't recall. I got to see the famous building shaped like a giant glass boat, as well as some of the famed crate-like architecture by the waterfront. We arrived at a little restaurant/bar area, and went to a little place called Fischerestaurant (spelling?) where we all enjoyed a dessert. It was a pretty little place with soft lighting and climbing plants overlooking the cozy cobblestone street.<br />
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Before getting up to my apartment I made a quick stop at the gas station nearby for some milk, and it just so happened that a big tour bus full of drunk men was stopped there. While in line one of them tapped my shoulder and said something German, to which I replied I didn't understand. They proceeded to invite me to drink with them, but I gave them and excuse and slipped away because I had no idea where the bus was headed or what kind of characters they were and it generally seemed like a bit of a sketchy idea. But nonetheless it was pretty amusing.<br />
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Sunday wasn't remotely exciting as it was dedicated entirely to chores. I won't bore you with the details.<br />
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As for romance, there is none in my life and I have no expectation it will be otherwise until I leave the country. The less I think on it the better.<br />
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Well that about sums it up, but I'll try to update on Tuesday (more likely Wednesday or Thursday) of next week regarding my trip to France. Until next time!A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-43939629464456412642011-09-30T07:41:00.000-07:002011-09-30T07:41:23.972-07:00Oktoberfest & Munich/MünchenHello again my lovelies!<br />
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Today is one of those great days where you feel so content. After a prodigiously bad summer Hamburg has come through with a gloriously beautiful autumn. Today was sunny and at least 25 degrees (celcius, duh), and the good weather is supposed to continue during the long weekend. Monday is a holiday - something like the "Celebration of German Unity" - so we <i>finally</i> are having a long weekend. To further sweeten the deal this afternoon is super quiet at work, so I figured rather than kill time on facebook I'd kill time catching up on my blogging: lucky you!<br />
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As you'll likely be aware, last weekend I went to Munich (known within Germany as "München") to experience Oktoberfest in true Bavarian style. Things kicked off bright and early Saturday morning when I headed off to the train station to begin my six hour long ride. The train was clean, fairly new, and comfortable. My only real complaint regards how it is labeled. The trouble is that each compartment is covered in numbers, and to the uninitiated it can be next to impossible to figure out what number refers to what (class versus compartment versus wagon versus seat). On the line I was traveling with the train's designers had decided that the most important number to display was the "class" number, which appeared not only on the side of each compartment but also on the doors, where it could be very easily confused with the actual wagon number. These were the hardest to figure out, partly because it would seem that there were two wagons per number and this number was not prominently displayed. So, there were two "3" wagons, two "2" wagons, etcetera. After significant bumbling around with my suitcase looking for the right seat I finally found it and got settled it. I was extremely pleased to find an electrical outlet by each seat, so for much of the trip I entertained myself with movies. The countryside in Germany is exceptionally beautiful, and luckily it was also a sunny day so this were looking especially picturesque. The towns are all very similar: nestled in valleys or on hillsides, each is dominated by a large centrally-located church and surrounded by little white houses with red tile roofs. From the train you could admire all the winding country roads, the meandering rivers and the sprawling farmland bordered by neat tree-lined lanes.<br />
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Most of the ride was quiet, though I noticed a neighbouring rider catch my eye several times. Shortly after the seat beside me was vacated (we stopped many times over the course of the trip) he approached and asked whether a water bottle under the seat was mine. I told him no, and then he started asking about my accent and where I was from. I answered politely, and I suppose that was enough for him because he promptly collected his bag and sat down beside me, which I found highly amusing. I don't recall his name, but I do remember he was almost seven feet tall (I'm serious! I asked and he said he was 6'9").<br />
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When we arrived in Munich I met up with my hosts and we parted ways. I was staying with an old school friend of my aunt's who I had met in Hamburg earlier that week. Her husband and son came to gather my luggage and then the son and I headed off to meet his friends at Oktoberfest.<br />
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I'll confess things got off to an unsteady start. My host's son was quite young (17) and I wasn't sure how mature he or his friends would be. When we got to the fest we didn't have reservations at a table and so that meant a lot of waiting in lines. Not everyone was comfortable speaking English, and I figured it would be a little too patronizing to ask everyone how they were enjoying highschool and what kind of extracurriculars they engaged in. Furthermore, I was shocked by the rampant and overt drug use that seemed to be occuring everywhere. Call me a naive country girl but I wasn't expecting that. I was, however, determined to enjoy myself so I decided to turn a blind eye to everything I didn't like and just enjoy it for what it was.<br />
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And it's a good thing I did! Once we overcame initial language shyness my host and his friends turned out to be a friendly enough group who were easy to get along with. While waiting for ticket business to get sorted we realized that I had become something of a stranger-magnet. Maybe it was because I was still in casual clothes (<i>everyone</i> else was wearing a drindl or leiderhosen), or maybe it was my natural Canadian friendliness, but I made lots of friends. First, it was a couple of mid-thirties Italian guys who were taking care of their too-drunk friend nearby. One of them just sort of strolled over and started chatting me up (too bad he wasn't my type). We chatted for a few minutes before I found an excuse to leave. Shortly afterward I was approached by an American wearing some kind of sports jersey. He happened to speak fluent German, and was so drunk he kept forgetting that I don't. So, he would start a sentence in English and halfway through switch to German, at which point I would have to say "Ich spreche nicht Deutsches! Ich bin Kanadierin!" Which is pretty much the only German I can speak.<br />
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Anyway, eventually he stumbled off and after what seemed like hours we made it on to the patio of the Fischer tent. As we entered I was hailed by a group I can only assume were Eastern European (you come to recognize regions after long enough in Europe), and one member pointed to his friend going "Eh? Eh? Ja!" His friend was gangly and supremely goofy looking so I just smiled, shook my head and moved on. Once inside things were a lot of fun. The benches were crammed with people and everyone was friendly and talkative, which is an environment in which I thrive. The servers moved around with up to 4 or 5 litres of beer in each hand, just as you might imagine. After a short time I wound up making friends with the gentleman seated behind me, who owned a gym in Munich. Our table was also joined by a group of Poles, though I didn't get a chance to speak to them much. <br />
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Just as a matter of interest I may as well tell you that the beer served at Oktoberfest is ONLY served by the litre. Additionally, it has a higher alcohol content then you will find anywhere else, and so is especially deadly. For this reason the tents close at 11:30 each night, though even before we had gotten in we saw at least three First Aid crews rushing off to deal with what could only be alcohol poisoning cases.<br />
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So, when 11:30 rolled around we stumbled our way home for a much-needed rest.<br />
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The next morning I was up surprisingly early and changed into the borrowed drindl I would wear that day. It was a little loose but would get the job done. Drindls are supposed to be worn very tightly, and the place you tie your apron bow communicates a message. If you tie it at your left hip then it means you are single; if you tie it at your right hip then it means you are married; if you tie it at the back then (apparently) it means you are widowed, though apparently no one does this. There is a huge variety of styles when it comes to drindls and liederhosen, which I found very exciting and fascinating. the white undershirts can have long, short, or capped sleeves, often with lace or ribbon, sometimes puffed and gathered and sometimes tapered. I was surprised to learn that the undershirts only extend to the bottom of your bust, which I gather is to avoid bunching beneath the very tight drindls and also to avoid excessive heat. The collar selection is very broad, with the more traditional styles featuring an almost Elizabethan-style ruffle with a low-cut neck, and more modern styles that can button all the way to the neck but that are worn open. Those are just two examples, and there are many many more. The overskirts also come in many styles. Some dip below to hit underneath the bust while others rise higher to hide most of the undershirt. I wished I could've gotten more pictures because there were really so many beautiful dresses. The liederhosen were just as elaborate. The trousers were made of a soft embroidered suede, that could be worn with or without the suspenders. The undershirts were just as varried as those worn with the drindls, and sometimes then men wore beautiful wool jackets as well. These had such an interesting cut to them I would have murdered to get my hands on one, but unfortunately the opportunity never arose. Quite a few of the men wore stockings or wooly socks as well, and I even saw two men sporting clogs as well.<br />
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Shortly before noon my host-family and I headed off once more to Oktoberfest, where this time we had tickets to the Ochs tent (ox tent). When I say tent, however, you must imagine huuuuuge halls with white canvas ceilings, swathed with blue and white (the Bavarian colours) strips of silk like something out of a Medieval tournament. Anyway, we settled ourselves at our table and then got to the serious business of eating and drinking. If you've never tasted German food I feel the need to warn you it is overwhelmingly salty. Whether in the North or the South they salt EVERYTHING, and enthusiastically so. The servers were a truly impressive sight as they would carry table-sized trays with a dozen different meals stacked on them - often with large entrees such as an entire chicken! There was a big bandstand in the middle of the tent, and the band would play all kinds of music regularly punctuated by drinking songs. The absolute favourite went something like this:<br />
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Ein Prosit, ein Prosit,<br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">der Gemütlichkeit</span><br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">Ein Prosit, ein Prosit</span><br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">der Gemütlichkeit</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">Then everyone would go "eins, swei, drei, suva!" and take a drink. I'm not sure about the spelling of that last word, as the Germans pronounce "w" as "v", "v" as "f", "s" as "z", and other such nonsense. <i>It sounded</i> like "zufa" so who the hell knows how it's spelled. Also, in case you're curious the German word for "cheers" is "prost".</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">Anyway, the families stuck around for a few hours, but around five in the afternoon the parents and children headed off and once again I was entertained by the 17 year olds. While on Saturday night we had meet up with some of my host's acquaintances on Sunday night two of his better friends came by, both of whom were friendly and easy to get along with. We moved from our table on the balcony down to the thick of the action near the bandstand. Here we joined a random Polish family and continued the serious business of drinking.</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">It was SO. MUCH. FUN. Oktoberfest is everything you imagine it to be. It is over a thousand people crammed into one tent all set on having fun. Everyone is in a great mood, everyone sings and dances and it doesn't matter where you're from or whether you speak a different language. As the afternoon wears on people climb up on top of the benches and the singing continues. Strangers become friends and you simply soak up the festive atmosphere.</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">The Poles we were seated with were a pretty hilarious bunch. The father was in a grand mood because he had just won a thousand euro on a football (soccer) bet, and he was there with his brother (?) and his daughters. None of them spoke much English but through a mish-mash of French, German, and English we somehow were able to communicate. Behind us sat a group of Italians, one of whom was impertinent enough to try and lift my skirt while I was standing on the bench. As it so happened it was was the Munich folk call "Italian weekend". "Italian weekend" is a particular weekend of Oktoberfest which the Italians have a kind of unspoken agreement that it is the weekend they will all attend. As it was explained to me, "they have to do <i>everything</i> together." True to their reputations they are a grabby bunch, which is made worse by crowds. When you're walking around to have to be mindful to guard your chest or else they will take absolutely <b>any</b> opportunity to grope you.</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">Anyway, we stayed in the tent until closing, at which point we agreed it was time to enjoy the fair. What I hadn't realized before coming to Munich was that Oktoberest isn't just the beer tents: it's also a big fun fair, with merry-go-rounds, ferris wheels, rollercoasters, etcetera. During the day families and children the rides, but in the evening people leave the tents and enjoy the rides. Contrary to what I expected, which was that going on a ride while drunk was a recipe for vomiting, in actual fact drinking just makes you bold enough to try the rides you would never attempt sober. The end was result was that I had a huge amount of fun.</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">The next day I was up again early as I was dying to find a drindl of my own before leaving and I wanted to see just a bit of Munich before leaving. I went down to Marienplatz, which is the central square of the Altstadt, and was able to complete my drindl mission quite quickly. I wound up getting a very traditional one. It hits just below the knee and comes up under the bust. The dress is navy blue and white, with plaid on the skirt and a floral pattern on the bodice with a subtle plaid ruffle. The bodice laces up corset-style in the front, and the apron is green and white in the same floral pattern as the bodice. The white undershirt is a traditional style with puffed sleeves coming just above the elbow and a low ruffled neckline. I am totally in love.</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">After finding my drindl I explored the exterior of the Neues Rathaus (I understand Munich has two Rathaus), a giant piece of Gothic architecture. I got to see its giant dancing clock chime the hours, and then moved on to see the Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady), the final resting place of King Ludwig II. Both of these (the church especially) were completely awe-inspiring and I wish I had planned a longer stay in the south - there was so much to see! I should also add that all weekend the weather was beautiful - 26 degrees and not a cloud in sight. Munich is so different from the North, both in culture and in appearance. During Oktoberfest the city swells from its usual 1.2 million to close to 7 million inhabitants, which may have been a little deceptive culturally speaking. However, southern Germans have a very particular look about them. Many of them have deep brown tans and a sandy blondish hair that is a far cry from the fair-skinned residents of the North. It wasn't easy coming back, I'll say that! But come back I did, after an unforgettable weekend.</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">This week at work has been fairly quiet, with most of my attention being alotted to my travels rather than any particular project. With only a few weeks left in my stay here my schedule is filling up fast. This weekend I intend to absorb the last major sights of Hamburg (and hopefully get some rest). Next weekend I'll be off visiting family in Lyon (to the South-East of central France), which will be followed by a very brief stay in Paris. I'm hoping to visit the Musée du Louvre, and could hardly be more excited. The weekend after that I will likely be headed off to visit Berlin, and the weekend following will be my trip to Dublin. The next Monday (Halloween) will mark my return to Canada, though I may be making a detour to Toronto to investigate a career opportunity.</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">Speaking of work, today is my last day with the crew in Design. On Tuesday I will be making my last (maybe) department change and moving to spend two weeks with the Online team. I am a little nervous as I don't have much experience in this field, but it's an important part of this business and I'm glad I'll be getting to sample what goes on: the more I know the better.</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">I'll do my best to update (probably during the week after my weekend advertures) but it's going to be insanely busy so I'll make no promises.</span><br />
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<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">With any luck the next time I write it'll be to say that I've met a prince in Paris and am engaged. A girl can always dream.</span>A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4586885686924265356.post-30871245565966128572011-09-20T13:01:00.000-07:002011-09-20T13:14:51.862-07:00Fast track to Type 2... Diabetes, that is!<br />
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Hey kids, long time no posts - I know. The reason I'm finally getting around to it now is because today's diet consisted mostly of coffee, diet coke, and chocolate, so I am <i>super</i> hyper. Hence the diabetes remark. Anyway, since it's been so long since I updated I'm going to have to attack this by topic rather than chronologically. I guess if you don't give a shit about my career then it'll make it that much easier to skip the boring part and get to the gossip, but otherwise you're just going to have to put up with some minor jumps in the narrative.<br />
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<b>Work:</b> Okay, so nearly a month ago I moved from the Advertising department to the Design department called Ligalux. As it turns out Ligalux is waaaaaay more like what I've done before, so my transition has been really smooth. We mostly deal with logos, brochures, and, well, design. I wish I could explain better what "design" is, but you kind of have to do it to know it. A further improvement is that while in Creative we worked predominantly with Photoshop but in Ligalux we are more reliant upon InDesign and Illustrator, which are old friends of mine. <i>Yessssssss</i>. Work continues to be impressively fun as most of my days are spent enjoying my favourite music while doing some glorified doodles. Doing layouts is less familiar to me, but creating logos is a really enjoyable challenge so they balance out nicely. This week I've been working on creating gift cards, and I have an idea I'm pretty excited about - let's hope it gets picked up by the client!<br />
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As for the people they're all pretty nice, but I haven't gotten to know them as well as I got to know the Advertising guys. I think part of it is because I actually know what I'm doing now and so I rarely have to ask for help. Also, while we get together for lunch fairly often we don't do it every day so I have had fewer opportunities to get to know them. On top of that Ligalux has a wider age range and the employees are more into doing their own thing, and finally I'll be with Ligalux for several weeks less than I spent in Advertising. Ohhhh well. I've stayed in touch well with the Advertising crew though, who as per usual are a pretty hilarious bunch.<br />
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Having said that, let's move on to my social life....<br />
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<b>Adventures:</b> Alright, so I suppose it's time to think waaaayyyyy back. Last time I updated was after Düsseldorf, so we'll start with the following weekend.<br />
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For many years now I've nurtured a love of Classical music and opera. I'm familiar with Puccini (who doesn't love <i>La Boheme</i>?), but it actually wasn't until I saw 2009's <i>Quantum of Solace</i> that I looked into <i>Tosca</i>. Though the music played for only a short scene I was instantly hooked, and swore that if I ever got to Europe I would see <i>Tosca</i> live in Germany. I am happy to say that after checking out the Hamburg Opera's Autumn lineup <i>Tosca</i> was set to start September 4, so I bought a ticket and waited impatiently for the day to roll around.<br />
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Things got off to a bit of an imperfect start. I wasn't thrilled to be going solo, so waiting for the performance to start and during the intermission I was a little bored, lonely, and depressed. Also, the theatre itself is a relic of the '80s, possibly my least favourite era of architecture. The libretto (a translation of what performers are singing that appears at the top of the curtain during the show) was in German, so I couldn't understand it. Luckily the program included a short English plot-summary so I wasn't completely lost. Finally, apparently not even Europeans know how to dress properly for the opera. To add some context, this was a Sunday show and the first showing of <i>Tosca</i> this season. And yet, there were still waaaaaaaaaaaaay too many people in casual clothes and even <b>jeans</b>. If you are into opera enough to be attending <i>Tosca</i> on a Sunday then you should know better than to show up wearing <i>that</i>. And no, I don't care how elitist that sounds, it's just proper etiquette!<br />
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However, all these things ceased to matter as soon as the show started. Opera in any setting is moving, but opera performed live is totally overwhelming. You get swallowed up my music, and I found again and again I would get goosebumps and chills during my favourite sequences (notably "Tre sbirri... Una carrozza", "Vissi D'arte", and the piece before/after the murder [I don't recall the title of that part just now]). It feels as though all of a sudden you have muscles in your ears you never noticed and they're all flexed at once. That description sounds uncomfortable but I assure you it's completely exhilarating. I didn't cry, but it took a decent amount of effort not to, which I consider a good measure of how good the performance was.<br />
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The following weekend wound up being a busier one. On Friday night some of the ladies from work (the secretary and one of the girls from Accounts) invited me out to Terrace Hill again for a Rockstar themed club night. After work I wound up having drinks and playing darts with the Advertising guys. It seems my darts skills have improved drastically since arriving - after two months here I finally won my first game! We had a really good time but eventually I had to home so I could get ready for the night. Unfortunately the rest of the evening wasn't as totally awesome as the start. It wound up being one of those nights where you spend all your time waiting in lineups: waiting to get into the club; waiting to check your coat; waiting to get a drink; waiting to get your coat again. The crowd at the club were a little on the obnoxious side, and unfortunately none of my group seemed very into the scene. I spent most of my time on the outdoor terrace enjoying the view of Hamburg and the fresh air. I won't lie, it was a little depressing though, and I was missing home a lot and mostly brooding about the language for the millionth time. For all the complaining I do you'd think I'd get around to doing something about it but German is NOT an easy language.<br />
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Anyway, the next day was pretty fun. I went boots hunting for the eighth (?) week in a row. I only brought ballet flats, sandals, and high heels to Europe because boots are bulky to pack and I thought I'd find something I liked here easily enough. Not so. I'm pretty picky, and everything here was all wrong: the toe was the wrong shape; they didn't hit at the right place on the leg; the sole was awkwardly cut; the fit in the calf was wrong; they had weird buckles or accessories. The list goes on... At the start of September I had found ONE pair that I liked, the <i>perfect</i> pair.... but they also happened to be wildly expensive. I decided to keep looking, but after checking high-end, low-end, and mid-range stores I still found nothing I remotely liked except for the one amazing pair. Anyway, I concluded that after having searched all of Hamburg and a good part of Düsseldorf I wasn't going to find anything so I caved and got the pricey ones. Sigh. Anyway, in case you're wondering they're exceptionally simple: black, just below the knee, with a loose fit to the calf and no tapering at the ankle (ew). They have an almond toe and no adornments whatsoever. You'd think that these would be easy to find anywhere but apparently not. But enough about shoes.<br />
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After a supremely self-indulgent day (much of which I spent hanging out at the canal next to the Alsterarkaden, a very beautiful area) I was just stopping for coffee when something caught my eye. There's an open area in a place called the Gänsemarkt where vendors often set up on weekends or brands hold promotions. Just as I was sitting down I noticed a group of 15 or so people all dressed in white shirts and black trousers. One woman was dressed as Marilyn Monroe in a white dress with blond curls and red lipstick, and two gentlemen were wearing no shirts but little white collars, bow-ties and fedoras. I was very curious so I went over and asked what they were selling. As it turned out it was white-dress-woman's bachelorette party and they were all out celebrating. They were a very friendly bunch (unusual in Germany) and so I wound up getting pictures with the two guys and a couple of the whole group. In retrospect I wish I had chatted them up more - opportunities for meeting people here are so few and these guys were very receptive (haha) and friendly to boot. But I didn't want to bother them and had plans to get to anyway, so off I went. That evening I had plans to meet up with my Advertising crew in an area near where I live called the Shanze.<br />
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At the appointed hour I headed out, but everyone seemed to be on their own timeline as it took a while for us to all get together. The evening was a little more on the mellow side, which I didn't mind. We were at the same bar we went to waaaaay back when I first arrived, the one we like to call Sofa Bar but has some other name. Anyway, it was a crowded night so we wound up sitting with two strangers, one of whom was exceptionally handsome and who made eye contact right away. He was typically German looking, with good bone structure, blonde hair, blue eyes and an athletic build. I was just plotting how I was going to strike up a conversation with this conveniently close hottie when our group swelled, and to my great dismay the two who we had joined wound up leaving. Just my luck. I spent the rest of the evening having forced conversation with a friend of my coworker, brooding about how I would much rather be chatting up a different guy and could have been had I not been such a coward. I left earlyish (around 1am) and spent the rest of the weekend beating myself up for missing two great opportunities to meet people.<br />
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Which brings us to this weekend. A friend of mine from University is spending a semester in Mannheim, and to my surprise he got himself together and visited this weekend. When he arrived on Friday we spent the evening catching up and then getting to bed early in preparation for a loaded day on Saturday.<br />
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On Saturday we started things off by taking a free walking tour (Sandeman's New Europe tour, in case you're wondering). One thing I found totally bizarre was that one gentleman on the tour (a German) wore no shoes. At all. For the whole time. I began to think of him as the "shoeless wonder", as he would walk down the cobbled streets (broken glass everywhere) without batting an eyelash. I wondered if he was allowed in stores like that - "no shoes, no shirt, no service".... right? Anyway, I never did find out what his deal was, but it wasn't high on my agenda.<br />
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We went around to at least four or five different churches, each of which was interesting in its own way. One was set at the highest point in all of Hamburg (a tiny hill to my Western Canadian eyes), another held what was once the world's largest organ. Johann Sebastian Bach had wanted to work there, but they had rejected his request as this was prior to his major successes. Later Napoleon used the same church as a munitions storehouse when he occupied Hamburg. We then moved on to see several of Germany's famous "contour houses" (it might be "kontur haus", I'm not sure). These are basically just interestingly designed old buildings. We saw Chilehaus, Afrikahaus, and we saw the building where Zyklon B gas was manufactured during the second World War. We went to St. Nikolai church, of which only burnt bricks and a single tall tower remain. We went right up to the top, which had a great view of the city. It felt like at any moment Nosferatu could walk out behind a pillar, which was pretty fun. After a coffee break the group headed on over to Hafen City, which is down by the docks of the Elbe. It's Hamburg's major industrial/storehouse area and quite the sight. We saw the new building for the Hamburg Philharmonic, which will have cost close to half a billion dollars by the time it's complete. We also visited the Dutch portion of Hamburg - the oldest part of the city - and also where the great fire of the 19th century started, which destroyed much of the city. We walked along cobblestones that had been there for nearly a thousand years, which was pretty damn cool.<br />
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Once the tour was over my friend and I went to the Hamburg Dungeon, which is a really elaborate haunted house type thing. Basically you move through something very similar to a haunted house, but you'll be stopped in various rooms by people in costume who will tell you the darker parts of the city's history. Unfortunately it was all in German, so I didn't understand any of it but it was still really cool. Toward the end you go on a boat ride and then to a ride where you're raised up and then dropped without warning - you'll be familiar with these rides from any amusement park.<br />
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By the time we left the Dungeon it was closing in on evening, so we trekked back to my apartment to eat, rest, and get ready for a night on the town. The same group that organized the walking tour also does a pub crawl in the Reeperbahn, Europe's largest red light district. After such a long day I wasn't sure I was all that ready for a night out as well, but I didn't want to pass up a good opportunity so off we went.<br />
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We met up with the group at a 99 Cent bar, where - you guessed it - everything was 99 cents. The others on the tour were two Australian guys, two Brazilian guys, an American man, a Bulgarian guy, two German girls, and I don't recall who else. My friend and I immediately got along with the Australians, and throughout the night there were many toasts to "The Commonwealth!" It wound up being a spectacularly fun time. One of the earlier stops was to a bar with live music playing the likes of ACDC and typical American rock, so we got our dance on and had a glorious time. I asked the Aussis about amusing local sayings, and my stand-out favourite is "we're not here to fuck spiders". It basically means let's do what we've got to do. On the whole it was pretty perfect, though my guest managed to (unknowingly) proposition a prostitute and then get on the wrong side of her pimp, which is the type of thing that would <i>only</i> happen to him.<br />
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In a disappointing conclusion both the Aussis were leaving Hamburg the next day to continue on a Contiki tour. I begin to suspect that Europe is conspiring to ensure I have no lasting friendships... ever. Anyway, we spent all of Sunday recovering, and yesterday it was back to work as usual.<br />
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<b>Travels: </b>Yesterday evening an old friend of my aunt's was in Hamburg, so we arranged to meet up for dinner. Luckily we got along well, so this weekend I'll be visiting her family in Munich and attending Oktoberfest, drindl and all. I'll be departing Saturday and returning Monday, and I'll be using the train for the first time since getting to Europe.<br />
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I've also just made plans to visit my extended family in Lyon (France) during the second weekend of October, which I'm very excited for, especially since I can actually speak functional French.<br />
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Perhaps what I'm most excited for though is Ireland. I've finally thrown caution to the wind and will book flights tomorrow to go during my last weekend in Europe. I've had a mysterious but nonetheless powerful attraction to Ireland since I was about 16, so I am <i>beyond</i> excited to fulfill a dream I've had for the last six years. Hopefully I'll be seeing one of the Irish guys I met in Düsseldorf, providing he's not too busy with school. But regardless I think it'll be pretty amazing. Then, before I know it, it'll be back to Canada.<br />
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My initial plan had been to return straight to BC, but I'm now contemplating a stop off in Toronto. There's a job opportunity I'm very interested in (more on that later), and I'm also dying to see my family, who I haven't visited in nearly five years. Tooooo long.<br />
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<b>Romance:</b> Ugh. I feel like that pretty much sums it up.<br />
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Things had briefly looked up with my Düsseldorf fling. We connected via facebook (of course), and not long after my visit he and his girlfriend split up, which was <i>wayyyyy</i> more than I had expected out of that. Unfortunately since then things have hit a serious lull, and I'm fairly certain the end of things has come and gone. He returns to school soon, and I have no idea whether he'll be visiting Hamburg. Even if he does my schedule is now so packed I doubt we'll be in the same place at the same time. I guess it wasn't "meant to be", but that hardly makes me feel any better.<br />
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Apparently my life's narrative has turned into a broken record though. I don't know how well you read between the lines but you may have inferred that I was leaving some details out of this past weekend's pub crawl. I got along especially well with one of the Australian guys, who of course had the cute accent (I'm a terrible sucker for accents), the blonde hair, the tan, and - what do you know? - a girlfriend. Not that that stopped a dance floor make-out session from taking place. Seriously though, <b>WHAT THE FUCK?!</b> Why does EVERY guy I meet have a girlfriend? And why hasn't that stopped me recently??? Before I got to Europe I had never cheated on a boyfriend and I had never been involved with a guy who had a girlfriend. But all of a sudden I get here and manage to have this happen twice in what? three weeks time? I mean on the one hand I'd like to think that <i>I'm</i> not the one in the relationship and therefore it's not <i>my</i> responsibility to ensure these guys are faithful (also, in both instances it was only kissing), but then again once upon a time I had a lot more compassion for these guys' girlfriends. For some reason that has recently totally evaporated and been replaced with a complete lack of remorse. 'Bye moral compass, it was nice knowing you.<br />
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Once again I find myself irritated that I've met someone interesting and fun who I have great chemistry with but zero future. I suppose it's ridiculous to expect any kind of future seeing as I'm leaving the continent in just over a month, but human beings are so irrational.<br />
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Alright, I've been writing for close to three hours now, and I think this update is officially long enough. Bravo if you made it to the end all in one go.A.E.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17809554232960833266noreply@blogger.com0