Not so long ago, or so it seems in my emigrantal, time-stand-still memory, Ireland was quite a conservative country. Divorce was not permitted, people went to mass on Sundays, and the word 'Gay' meant jolly - as in the Enid Blyton books. So yesterday's Gay Pride Parade down Grafton street was a novel experience for me.
Hundreds of gayly clothed girls and boys paraded down the streets, singing and dancing - mind you I noticed they weren't throwing out any free lollypops or condoms, like they do in Victoria - could it be the recession? No freebies unfortunately - not that I'd need the condoms!! But still, it's the thought that counts...right?? I always get a great kick out of watching the seniors scramble to get the free condoms during our Gay Pride Parade in Victoria, and wonder what their reaction will be like when they open their gift!!
Comparing the Irish parade to our Canadian version, I would say it was certainly not as 'risque' in that there weren't any naked paraders that I could see, and very little of the elaborate body painting - but it was FUN just the same; more of a Mardi-gras party-for the-sake-of-party atmosphere. The Irish like to party - whatever the occasion!
The weirdest moment for me - and a sight I will never forget - was the appearance of a large white truck bearing a giant poster of Jesus (about 20 ft. tall or so it seemed) and a stalwart group of men (no women), with a loudspeaker, calling out the rosary in defiance of the defiant. Now - you NEVER EVER would see that in Victoria!
Only in Ireland...A postcard from my travels!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
MY FAVOURITE ESCAPE
We all need a little time to ourselves...right? Just someplace where you can go to brood, think, dream, or simply escape. Currently, this is what I love to do... When mum has had breakfast, is washed, and needs to go back to bed for a few hours, I head into Grafton Street, which is perhaps my favourite haunt in Dublin. I like it because it is always buzzing with life, and you just never know who you would bump into!
There are two places that I particularly love on Grafton Street - no NOT the shops this time!! One is the iconic Bewley's Cafe, which has offered unrivalled hospitality and delight to tea and coffee lovers for over a century now. They have the best pastries in the world, and their coffee makes a nice change from Starbucks, though I did spy with my little eye a Starbucks across the street, now housed in the very fashionable B.T.'s store! If you are visiting Dublin - Bewley's on Grafton Street is a must-see! The beauty of the interiors, with its stained glass windows, elegant art work, statues, and wood carving, is a delight for all the senses. Breakfast in Bewley's before 'doing' the shops is the ultimate in pleasure...!!
The second place I adore is tucked away a few short steps from Bewley's Cafe. It is the Clarendon Street Church. Clarendon Street is just off Grafton Street. When you exit the side entrance of Bewley's you are facing the church...what could be easier.
This little church has been there forever, and despite being surrounded by noisy, vibrant shoppers, when you enter its sacred space, it is an oasis of calm and tranquility - simply lovely. The last time I was there, a lovely English girl came up to me and asked me where she could buy a bible. She looked very upset, and seemed to be pregnant. I couldn't stop thinking of the poor girl. She was clearly really distraught. As I prayed, I looked in my bag to see if there was any little thing I could give her, like a medal or something. I found a lovely laminated picture of Our Lady, and decided if she was still in the church, I would give it to her. Sure enough, there she was behind me. I approached her and asked if she was having a baby. She looked at me sadly and said 'Not Anymore'. She had either had a miscarriage, an abortion, or something like that, to cause such upset in her. I gave her the little picture of Our Lady, and told her to pray to her with all her heart, and that Our Lady would look after her. She smiled a grateful smile, and I wished her well.
I had to get two masses for mother; one for the deceased man in Kilkee, and another for a cousin who had died. So in I headed to the office. While waiting in line, I saw this little card with the following words on it. I liked it, and am going to share it with you now:-
AS I LIVE EACH DAY
As I live each day
May I do my part
to make one difference
to touch one heart,
and through each day
may it be my goal
to encourage one mind
and inspire one soul
Love makes our friends a little dearer
Joy makes our hearts a little lighter
Faith makes our paths a little clearer
Hope makes our lives a little brighter
PEACE brings us all a little nearer
Peace to you this day, and may the Force be with you!
Love,
Patricia xxx
There are two places that I particularly love on Grafton Street - no NOT the shops this time!! One is the iconic Bewley's Cafe, which has offered unrivalled hospitality and delight to tea and coffee lovers for over a century now. They have the best pastries in the world, and their coffee makes a nice change from Starbucks, though I did spy with my little eye a Starbucks across the street, now housed in the very fashionable B.T.'s store! If you are visiting Dublin - Bewley's on Grafton Street is a must-see! The beauty of the interiors, with its stained glass windows, elegant art work, statues, and wood carving, is a delight for all the senses. Breakfast in Bewley's before 'doing' the shops is the ultimate in pleasure...!!
The second place I adore is tucked away a few short steps from Bewley's Cafe. It is the Clarendon Street Church. Clarendon Street is just off Grafton Street. When you exit the side entrance of Bewley's you are facing the church...what could be easier.
This little church has been there forever, and despite being surrounded by noisy, vibrant shoppers, when you enter its sacred space, it is an oasis of calm and tranquility - simply lovely. The last time I was there, a lovely English girl came up to me and asked me where she could buy a bible. She looked very upset, and seemed to be pregnant. I couldn't stop thinking of the poor girl. She was clearly really distraught. As I prayed, I looked in my bag to see if there was any little thing I could give her, like a medal or something. I found a lovely laminated picture of Our Lady, and decided if she was still in the church, I would give it to her. Sure enough, there she was behind me. I approached her and asked if she was having a baby. She looked at me sadly and said 'Not Anymore'. She had either had a miscarriage, an abortion, or something like that, to cause such upset in her. I gave her the little picture of Our Lady, and told her to pray to her with all her heart, and that Our Lady would look after her. She smiled a grateful smile, and I wished her well.
I had to get two masses for mother; one for the deceased man in Kilkee, and another for a cousin who had died. So in I headed to the office. While waiting in line, I saw this little card with the following words on it. I liked it, and am going to share it with you now:-
AS I LIVE EACH DAY
As I live each day
May I do my part
to make one difference
to touch one heart,
and through each day
may it be my goal
to encourage one mind
and inspire one soul
Love makes our friends a little dearer
Joy makes our hearts a little lighter
Faith makes our paths a little clearer
Hope makes our lives a little brighter
PEACE brings us all a little nearer
Peace to you this day, and may the Force be with you!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Friday, June 28, 2013
KILKEE BY THE SEA
I was off travelling for a few days, and didn't bring the computer. It was better just to absorb the experiences, and yes, I had some work to do. Sister Sonya and I went back to the ancestral home in Kilkee, County Clare. We also went to visit Daddy's grave. Now I have to tell you, the latter filled me with dread, as I did not know how I would react to such a wrenching situation. Yet, it was something I yearned to do.
We decided to stop and buy some plants en-route, to plant on his grave, as daddy loved his garden. When we arrived at the graveyard, an ocean of tombstones faced us, and we couldn't find his grave! Crazy I know. Sonya went one way, and I went the other. I had a nose for where we may find it, and sure enough I eventually found it. His name wasn't on it yet, I just recognized it by the dried flowers, and also the names on the tombstone. My Granny, Godmother, and little Sister, Kamilla are all in the same grave; so dad is in good company. I had a really 'weird' sensation when I gazed at his grave that he wasn't in there; like as if there was a sign on it that said 'Gone Fishing'. That same feeling when you knock on somebody's door, and they are not at home.
However, that ALL changed when I got to our home to Kilkee. That's where Dad was. He wasn't long jumping out of the grave, I thought to myself with a laugh. His spirit was alive and well and all over the place! Everywhere I turned, I could feel his presence; Sonya felt the same. I was very sad to see that the garden he loved - so dearly, had gone to pot for want of a better word! Weeds everywhere I looked, and very little colour, apart from the rose bushes he lovingly cultivated. You could tell the garden was missing him as much as I was. So I decided - and I'm not a gardener - that I would do something about it. When I went into his garage, which was his favourite place in the whole world, the sluice gates opened, and a deluge of tears poured out of me; enough to water the whole garden. Every little ornament I had ever given dad, was still where he had lovingly placed it; the little grey cat, the bust of Our Lady, the orange teddy bear I once found; Daddy was as big a hoarder as me, and just as sentimental.
I borrowed all daddy's tools, and attacked the weeds like the enemies they were. I felt him watching over me with a smile on his face. By the time I had finished, 7 big bags were filled with garden waste, and a great sense of satisfaction filled me. It was a great day for us all - minus the weeds of course!
It was in Kilkee that Kevin and I met...46 years ago. I was only in diapers, naturally. But that's where we met, and our love story began. During this trip, I met some people I knew from my school days. We chatted like as if I was still living there...that's the way people do things in Ireland - just take it up from the last visit! Naturally, I felt immediately 'at home'. I super-indulged in all the things I love, like a 'Rosarie's' ice cream cone - delish! a fish 'n chips - delish - an Indian take-away - delish! a freshly made cappuccino from the 'Diamond Rock's Cafe' - delish (not in that order - 'twas over 2 days - I'm not that much of a piggy wiggy!). Since I had worked so hard with the weeds, I felt I deserved some reward. I also washed all the windows in the house with Sonya (she did the hard work on the outside) and I made up for it with the weeds. So we broke even in the sweat department, and thank God the sun stayed shining all day long!
As I was weeding the garden, a lady I knew passed by the gate and told me of the death of a man we knew growing up, so we downed tools and paid our respects in the funeral parlor. We met a lot of folk from the past, including my cousin, a girl I went to school with, and other people from the town. It was a gathering which we had not anticipated. I felt foolish in my bright fluorescent colours and explained that I had just heard the news. They were grateful we attended.
Next day, as we drove away from our home 'Meadowvale Cottage', I could see daddy in my minds eye, waving at us, like he always used to do. Even though my heart was heavy, it was lightened by the fact that I know his spirit is alive and well, and still living in Kilkee!
Choo Choo and Happy Travels!
Love,
Patricia xxx
We decided to stop and buy some plants en-route, to plant on his grave, as daddy loved his garden. When we arrived at the graveyard, an ocean of tombstones faced us, and we couldn't find his grave! Crazy I know. Sonya went one way, and I went the other. I had a nose for where we may find it, and sure enough I eventually found it. His name wasn't on it yet, I just recognized it by the dried flowers, and also the names on the tombstone. My Granny, Godmother, and little Sister, Kamilla are all in the same grave; so dad is in good company. I had a really 'weird' sensation when I gazed at his grave that he wasn't in there; like as if there was a sign on it that said 'Gone Fishing'. That same feeling when you knock on somebody's door, and they are not at home.
However, that ALL changed when I got to our home to Kilkee. That's where Dad was. He wasn't long jumping out of the grave, I thought to myself with a laugh. His spirit was alive and well and all over the place! Everywhere I turned, I could feel his presence; Sonya felt the same. I was very sad to see that the garden he loved - so dearly, had gone to pot for want of a better word! Weeds everywhere I looked, and very little colour, apart from the rose bushes he lovingly cultivated. You could tell the garden was missing him as much as I was. So I decided - and I'm not a gardener - that I would do something about it. When I went into his garage, which was his favourite place in the whole world, the sluice gates opened, and a deluge of tears poured out of me; enough to water the whole garden. Every little ornament I had ever given dad, was still where he had lovingly placed it; the little grey cat, the bust of Our Lady, the orange teddy bear I once found; Daddy was as big a hoarder as me, and just as sentimental.
I borrowed all daddy's tools, and attacked the weeds like the enemies they were. I felt him watching over me with a smile on his face. By the time I had finished, 7 big bags were filled with garden waste, and a great sense of satisfaction filled me. It was a great day for us all - minus the weeds of course!
It was in Kilkee that Kevin and I met...46 years ago. I was only in diapers, naturally. But that's where we met, and our love story began. During this trip, I met some people I knew from my school days. We chatted like as if I was still living there...that's the way people do things in Ireland - just take it up from the last visit! Naturally, I felt immediately 'at home'. I super-indulged in all the things I love, like a 'Rosarie's' ice cream cone - delish! a fish 'n chips - delish - an Indian take-away - delish! a freshly made cappuccino from the 'Diamond Rock's Cafe' - delish (not in that order - 'twas over 2 days - I'm not that much of a piggy wiggy!). Since I had worked so hard with the weeds, I felt I deserved some reward. I also washed all the windows in the house with Sonya (she did the hard work on the outside) and I made up for it with the weeds. So we broke even in the sweat department, and thank God the sun stayed shining all day long!
As I was weeding the garden, a lady I knew passed by the gate and told me of the death of a man we knew growing up, so we downed tools and paid our respects in the funeral parlor. We met a lot of folk from the past, including my cousin, a girl I went to school with, and other people from the town. It was a gathering which we had not anticipated. I felt foolish in my bright fluorescent colours and explained that I had just heard the news. They were grateful we attended.
Next day, as we drove away from our home 'Meadowvale Cottage', I could see daddy in my minds eye, waving at us, like he always used to do. Even though my heart was heavy, it was lightened by the fact that I know his spirit is alive and well, and still living in Kilkee!
Choo Choo and Happy Travels!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Monday, June 24, 2013
DRIVING MISS DAISY
Yesterday was Sunday; a day of rest and relaxation, so sister Sonya got out the car and took mum and me for a lovely spin around the town. We drove to Dun Laoghaire to enjoy a famous 'Teddy's' ice-cream cone at the seafront, looking out at the seagulls doing their thing. It's a similar establishment to the drive-through in Beacon Hill, Victoria. In fact the ice cream tastes very much the same. Teddy's was first established in 1950 and, like Beacon Hill, there is always a BIG line-up; but it's worth it!
Later, we decided to head for Finnigan's Pub in Dalkey. This was the local for acclaimed Irish writer, Maeve Binchy, who sadly died some months ago. It is also where Bono of U2 drinks, and it was to this establishment that Michelle Obama and daughters visited during their recent trip to Ireland. In fact - kid you not - I sat on the EXACT seat Michelle sat on, and it felt wonderful! Later we got to see Maeve Binchy's own personal booth. Mother and I really enjoyed our little visit there. Just to think the Obama ladies had just been there only a few days earlier.
Talk about Presidential visitors, there was also great excitement in Ireland this week as it was the 50th anniversary of JFK's visit to Ireland in June, 1963. His daughter Caroline, grandkids, and sister visited Ireland for the occasion, bringing with them the eternal flame, and a huge gathering of the Kennedy Clan. So between the Obamas, and the Kennedy's, it was a great week for the Irish! Lots of celebrations.
On our way home from Finnigan's Pub, we passed a church with the following message written in big bold print on a notice board:-
'JESUS IS MY ROCK...AND I'M READY TO ROLL'
It's how I felt inside, since the priest at church yesterday morning delivered a fire and brimstone of a homily, lamenting the fact that 'The Heart's gone out the window' in Irish society today. It made me think. He spoke from his heart, since June is the month of the Sacred Heart. He was sad that Irish people today are too busy to love, and look out for each other. In his opinion people were a lot happier in Ireland long ago when they had less, but more time for each other. There was less loneliness, less isolation, less greed, and more happiness...One could argue - it's the same the world over.
So, between the Jigs and the Reels, the 'Man Above' remains 'My Rock' and Yes! I'm ready to roll...with the punches that life may choose to throw in my direction. BRING 'EM ON! There is nothin' we can't handle together. Right Meister?
Choo Choo and Happy Travels wherever you may find yourselves!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Later, we decided to head for Finnigan's Pub in Dalkey. This was the local for acclaimed Irish writer, Maeve Binchy, who sadly died some months ago. It is also where Bono of U2 drinks, and it was to this establishment that Michelle Obama and daughters visited during their recent trip to Ireland. In fact - kid you not - I sat on the EXACT seat Michelle sat on, and it felt wonderful! Later we got to see Maeve Binchy's own personal booth. Mother and I really enjoyed our little visit there. Just to think the Obama ladies had just been there only a few days earlier.
Talk about Presidential visitors, there was also great excitement in Ireland this week as it was the 50th anniversary of JFK's visit to Ireland in June, 1963. His daughter Caroline, grandkids, and sister visited Ireland for the occasion, bringing with them the eternal flame, and a huge gathering of the Kennedy Clan. So between the Obamas, and the Kennedy's, it was a great week for the Irish! Lots of celebrations.
On our way home from Finnigan's Pub, we passed a church with the following message written in big bold print on a notice board:-
'JESUS IS MY ROCK...AND I'M READY TO ROLL'
It's how I felt inside, since the priest at church yesterday morning delivered a fire and brimstone of a homily, lamenting the fact that 'The Heart's gone out the window' in Irish society today. It made me think. He spoke from his heart, since June is the month of the Sacred Heart. He was sad that Irish people today are too busy to love, and look out for each other. In his opinion people were a lot happier in Ireland long ago when they had less, but more time for each other. There was less loneliness, less isolation, less greed, and more happiness...One could argue - it's the same the world over.
So, between the Jigs and the Reels, the 'Man Above' remains 'My Rock' and Yes! I'm ready to roll...with the punches that life may choose to throw in my direction. BRING 'EM ON! There is nothin' we can't handle together. Right Meister?
Choo Choo and Happy Travels wherever you may find yourselves!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Saturday, June 22, 2013
VERONA
It is a truth universally acknowledged that in the hamlet of Verona, a lovestruck Romeo stood beneath the now tourist-trodden balcony of his beloved Juliet, while she called out in earnest "Where art thou Romeoooooo?" It's a nice story, and thanks to William Shakespeare, Verona is now on the map as a place to go for love and romance...
Love and romance wasn't on my agenda, but it was for the countless hundreds of couples paying homage to Romeo and Juliet. Walls were scribbled with love notes, and for those willing to pay a few euros, you could write a love message on a pink heart, and have it locked to a wire fence for posterity...well until next month at least. I got sucked into the whole romance thing and bought a hand embroidered apron with a picture of a boy and a girl on it, love hearts, and the words "Kevin and Patricia...9th July, 2013...Love Forever. Since it's our 30th Wedding Anniversary on that date, I thought it would be a cute reminder. Nothing is kitsch enough for me.
Verona is a half hour's train ride from Venice and the journey flew. At the train station we caught a bus into town. The driver should have been wearing a t-shirt that said 'Drive like hell and you'll get there'. People were herded into the bus like cattle, the door closed with the ferocity of a shark's jaws, before you were properly settled. I was surprised not to see any missing fingers on the ground. To add to our discomfort, the heat was sweltering. I honestly thought between the speed of the bus going over every bump on the road, and the heat, that I would pass out. Thankfully, I didn't.
Shattered, we arrived in the town centre. It was nothing like I had expected. In fact, I had no expectations. Suffice to say, it didn't move me like Venice did. All the movement was knocked out of me by the bus ride from hell. As I looked around, I saw before me lots of stone buildings, and a big amphitheatre under construction. Every place had a dark, heavy, ominous feel to it. Fellows dressed up in heavy armour stood around in the dry, sweltering heat. I don't know how they were able to stand the heat, and I'm sure their heavy armour was not air conditioned.
We opted for a photo shoot with a Roman Centurion in shining armour. After the photo, he put the paw out for us to cross his palm with silver. We gave him 2 euros; a euro per minute. "Not good enough" says he in broken English. What?
In the corner of my eye, I spied two massive centurions, sitting on a seat and fancied a photo with them, so over I went, foolishly, and asked if I could have my photo taken with them. I think they were both dumb, as they just gesticulated and gave me a form of sign language. The fellow to my left had thighs, each as big as my pasta pot belly. He came a little too close for comfort and squeezed me much harder than I would have liked, and began making obscene gestures. He was disgusting, and had steam coming from his nostrils like a bull. Never again! When I stood up, his sweat was stuck to me like a slug. Yuck! I felt like a shower. Then he had the cheek to stick the greasy paw out for money; more like him paying me for the cheap thrill!!
We had just arrived in Verona and already I wanted to leave. On the mad bus ride into town I saw signs of the recession. We passed lots of closed down shops with shutters destroyed with graffiti. Verona was a dismal place; not like Disneyland or Venice or stylish Milan for that matter. I think the heat was getting to me.
On a more positive note, I was hugely impressed by the creative talent of the street entertainers. Verona is famed for its dramatic arts, and unlike the centurions in heavy armour, these fellows were worth every euro we put into their tin boxes. One guy was dressed as Michael Jackson, complete with silver glove. When you put a coin in his hat, we would do a little Jackson dance, and was pretty impressive. I also liked the screaming baby in a the pram. His body was hidden in the back of the pram, so all you could see was a big baby head. When you gave him a coin, he would make an eery baby cry. Then there was the genie who sat elevated in the air (don't know how he did it in the heat). He looked like he was sitting mid-air with no strings or attachments; couldn't work out how he did it.
My abiding memory of Verona is the HEAT and the crazy bus driver, and the slimy, sweaty, sluglike Centurion, with thighs as big as a house. It was the longest 'spaghetti' smile I ever endured. Phew! Would I visit Verona again? Maybe...if the weather wasn't as hot. I wouldn't pose for photos with the lads in armour. Enooooo; been there, done that.
Talk Soon!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Love and romance wasn't on my agenda, but it was for the countless hundreds of couples paying homage to Romeo and Juliet. Walls were scribbled with love notes, and for those willing to pay a few euros, you could write a love message on a pink heart, and have it locked to a wire fence for posterity...well until next month at least. I got sucked into the whole romance thing and bought a hand embroidered apron with a picture of a boy and a girl on it, love hearts, and the words "Kevin and Patricia...9th July, 2013...Love Forever. Since it's our 30th Wedding Anniversary on that date, I thought it would be a cute reminder. Nothing is kitsch enough for me.
Verona is a half hour's train ride from Venice and the journey flew. At the train station we caught a bus into town. The driver should have been wearing a t-shirt that said 'Drive like hell and you'll get there'. People were herded into the bus like cattle, the door closed with the ferocity of a shark's jaws, before you were properly settled. I was surprised not to see any missing fingers on the ground. To add to our discomfort, the heat was sweltering. I honestly thought between the speed of the bus going over every bump on the road, and the heat, that I would pass out. Thankfully, I didn't.
Shattered, we arrived in the town centre. It was nothing like I had expected. In fact, I had no expectations. Suffice to say, it didn't move me like Venice did. All the movement was knocked out of me by the bus ride from hell. As I looked around, I saw before me lots of stone buildings, and a big amphitheatre under construction. Every place had a dark, heavy, ominous feel to it. Fellows dressed up in heavy armour stood around in the dry, sweltering heat. I don't know how they were able to stand the heat, and I'm sure their heavy armour was not air conditioned.
We opted for a photo shoot with a Roman Centurion in shining armour. After the photo, he put the paw out for us to cross his palm with silver. We gave him 2 euros; a euro per minute. "Not good enough" says he in broken English. What?
In the corner of my eye, I spied two massive centurions, sitting on a seat and fancied a photo with them, so over I went, foolishly, and asked if I could have my photo taken with them. I think they were both dumb, as they just gesticulated and gave me a form of sign language. The fellow to my left had thighs, each as big as my pasta pot belly. He came a little too close for comfort and squeezed me much harder than I would have liked, and began making obscene gestures. He was disgusting, and had steam coming from his nostrils like a bull. Never again! When I stood up, his sweat was stuck to me like a slug. Yuck! I felt like a shower. Then he had the cheek to stick the greasy paw out for money; more like him paying me for the cheap thrill!!
We had just arrived in Verona and already I wanted to leave. On the mad bus ride into town I saw signs of the recession. We passed lots of closed down shops with shutters destroyed with graffiti. Verona was a dismal place; not like Disneyland or Venice or stylish Milan for that matter. I think the heat was getting to me.
On a more positive note, I was hugely impressed by the creative talent of the street entertainers. Verona is famed for its dramatic arts, and unlike the centurions in heavy armour, these fellows were worth every euro we put into their tin boxes. One guy was dressed as Michael Jackson, complete with silver glove. When you put a coin in his hat, we would do a little Jackson dance, and was pretty impressive. I also liked the screaming baby in a the pram. His body was hidden in the back of the pram, so all you could see was a big baby head. When you gave him a coin, he would make an eery baby cry. Then there was the genie who sat elevated in the air (don't know how he did it in the heat). He looked like he was sitting mid-air with no strings or attachments; couldn't work out how he did it.
My abiding memory of Verona is the HEAT and the crazy bus driver, and the slimy, sweaty, sluglike Centurion, with thighs as big as a house. It was the longest 'spaghetti' smile I ever endured. Phew! Would I visit Verona again? Maybe...if the weather wasn't as hot. I wouldn't pose for photos with the lads in armour. Enooooo; been there, done that.
Talk Soon!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Friday, June 21, 2013
VENICE
When I talk Venice to people, some say they loved it, and others hated it. The ones who hated Venice cited such reasons as 'smelly, too crowded, too touristy, dirty, etc.' I'm happy to say I loved it! I'm a tourist at heart, and loved all the kitsch souveniers, gondolas, aged buildings, churches, noisy locals, aromatic narrow streets, bridges, happy honeymooners that crowd to such places like Venice, and last, but not least, the ambience. I knew as I walked down those winding little streets I was not in Canada. Vive la difference!
We took the train from Milan and our return trip cost us approx. 75 euros each. The journey was about two and a half hours in duration, and was very pleasant; made all the more enjoyable by a fascinating encounter with a chap by the name of Colin from Sydney, Australia. Colin was on a three month trekking adventure around the world. He was married to a woman from Malaysia and they did not have any children. He was probably around my age and his wife, he informed me, was 55. He had the 'ideal' bachelor existence. The wife spent half the year in Malaysia with her aged parents and he would join them for a while before being kicked out to travel. They would rent out their house in Sydney (not his bedroom) for the months he was away, to pay for his travels. By coincidence, it was during a trip to Vancouver Island, that he developed his love for trekking.
His wife, he told us, was a deeply spiritual person, and he shared many interesting facts he had learned from her about buddism, and life in Malaysia; throwing in some interesting tidbits about Australia to amuse us. The missus was healthy as a trout he continued, and she never ate dairy (and we downing 3 gelatos a day!!) never had any menopause symptoms, (Superwoman n'est pas? ) and never worries about anything (clearly not the possessive type either) As he left our carriage one stop short of Venice, I marvelled at the size of his 3-month suitcase - a small backpack, which also housed his bed. Wouldn't you love to be able to travel like that? I tried to estimate what he had fitted into his backpack - a toothbrush, one trousers and two t-shirts...maybe a tiny negligee to sleep in, since pyjamas wouldn't fit. Talk about travelling light - mentally and physically! Don't you love?
When we arrived in Venice, it was love at first sight. Our hotel was 2 minutes walk from the train station, and everything was in full swing; the gondoliers were singing away to their heart's content (business was booming), the views were picture-postcard perfect, the street vendors were blinding me with the bling, the sun was roaring hot in the sky. Again, I got a bit tipsy on the stimuli. And then the Hotel...
'Hotel Belle Epoque' was something else. Just google it, and see what I mean. Mary deserves a gold medal for finding this beauty, and at such a whopping great deal (46 euros each bed and delicious breakfast). Like Hotel Rio in Milan, Hotel Bell Epoque had those heavy charming key rings from another era. They are so heavy, you have to leave them at reception when you depart, and collect them upon your return. HBE's keyring was a tassel attached to a heavy brass ball and bore the hallmark of a bygone elegance. The chandeliers were exquisite, and the lighting was all Murano glass, for which Venice is renowned. Like Parisian Hotels, fabric, not wallpaper, lined the bedroom walls; something rather bordello-esque about the rooms. You could see they cater to honeymooners.
Upon arrival, we dropped our bags at reception, as we were too early to check in, and then headed for the powder room to freshen up. The powder room delivered a big surprise. The sink was a see-through aquarium, with goldfish swimming all around as you washed your hands. I wondered where the sudsy water went to. It was a unique piece of art, and raised our travel experience up a notch. Anything you wouldn't see at home, is big in my book.
Mary had arranged to meet with a friend of hers who worked in Venice; a very nice girl by the name of Raphaelle (hope the spelling is correct!). Raphaelle went ahead with Mary and Rose to show them some sights. The rest of us were TOO HOT, and needed to chill, as the weather was in the 30's, and the gelatos we'd consumed were melting within, and without us. We needed to sit down - badly!
A hot and winding half hour's walk through cobbled streets brought us to St. Mark's Square. Similar to Duomo Square in Milan, it was packed with tourists and we offered to take photos for lots of happy honeymooners. Like the Eiffel Tower in Paris, St. Mark's square is one of those 'must-see' places in the world. The architecture and history of floodings is part of its charm. All around you can observe the green tide-lines where the river rises. It is especially high around November to January, when the city is under water siege.
Sitting in St. Mark's Square, we were serenaded by an exquisite string orchestra. It's what I imagined the music on the Titanic to be like. Images of water rising came into my head as I sat sipping delicious English tea in a fine bone china cup, accompanied by scones and clotted cream; reminiscent of the Empress Hotel in Victoria.
Food in Venice was even more expensive than Milan, and I noticed they were sort of meager with the portions. They gave me no prawns or decent seafood in my tagliatelle, just a couple of lousy cockles and mussels. I felt the hunger pangs. Yes, all around I noticed Venice was a bit measly with the grub; even the gelatos were slimmer. I'm a foodie and notice all these things; though I cannot fault the breakfast we got at 'Hotel Bell Epoque'. It was waitress served. We had our tea served to us in pots, as many cappuccinos as we desired, and plenty of food. So the hotel ticked all the satisfaction boxes for me.
Sister Sonya had been in Venice some years ago, and advised us not to buy souveniers around St. Mark's Square, as they are more expensive there. How right she was. Shoes I saw in Milan for 29.99 euros were 39.99 euros near St. Mark's. All the Murano glass goodies were WAY more expensive than the shops near us in the hotel. So, a word of advice...Shop Around, before you make any purchases. What to purchase? Murano Glass of course!
My abiding memory of Venice is a trip to Mary of Nazarath Church, and gliding along in a gondolo, singing the song 'Row row row your boat gently down the stream, merrily merrily glide along, life is but a dream...' And isn't it true...Life is but a dream. What a pleasant dream Venice was...
Choo Choo for now!
Love,
Patricia xxx
We took the train from Milan and our return trip cost us approx. 75 euros each. The journey was about two and a half hours in duration, and was very pleasant; made all the more enjoyable by a fascinating encounter with a chap by the name of Colin from Sydney, Australia. Colin was on a three month trekking adventure around the world. He was married to a woman from Malaysia and they did not have any children. He was probably around my age and his wife, he informed me, was 55. He had the 'ideal' bachelor existence. The wife spent half the year in Malaysia with her aged parents and he would join them for a while before being kicked out to travel. They would rent out their house in Sydney (not his bedroom) for the months he was away, to pay for his travels. By coincidence, it was during a trip to Vancouver Island, that he developed his love for trekking.
His wife, he told us, was a deeply spiritual person, and he shared many interesting facts he had learned from her about buddism, and life in Malaysia; throwing in some interesting tidbits about Australia to amuse us. The missus was healthy as a trout he continued, and she never ate dairy (and we downing 3 gelatos a day!!) never had any menopause symptoms, (Superwoman n'est pas? ) and never worries about anything (clearly not the possessive type either) As he left our carriage one stop short of Venice, I marvelled at the size of his 3-month suitcase - a small backpack, which also housed his bed. Wouldn't you love to be able to travel like that? I tried to estimate what he had fitted into his backpack - a toothbrush, one trousers and two t-shirts...maybe a tiny negligee to sleep in, since pyjamas wouldn't fit. Talk about travelling light - mentally and physically! Don't you love?
When we arrived in Venice, it was love at first sight. Our hotel was 2 minutes walk from the train station, and everything was in full swing; the gondoliers were singing away to their heart's content (business was booming), the views were picture-postcard perfect, the street vendors were blinding me with the bling, the sun was roaring hot in the sky. Again, I got a bit tipsy on the stimuli. And then the Hotel...
'Hotel Belle Epoque' was something else. Just google it, and see what I mean. Mary deserves a gold medal for finding this beauty, and at such a whopping great deal (46 euros each bed and delicious breakfast). Like Hotel Rio in Milan, Hotel Bell Epoque had those heavy charming key rings from another era. They are so heavy, you have to leave them at reception when you depart, and collect them upon your return. HBE's keyring was a tassel attached to a heavy brass ball and bore the hallmark of a bygone elegance. The chandeliers were exquisite, and the lighting was all Murano glass, for which Venice is renowned. Like Parisian Hotels, fabric, not wallpaper, lined the bedroom walls; something rather bordello-esque about the rooms. You could see they cater to honeymooners.
Upon arrival, we dropped our bags at reception, as we were too early to check in, and then headed for the powder room to freshen up. The powder room delivered a big surprise. The sink was a see-through aquarium, with goldfish swimming all around as you washed your hands. I wondered where the sudsy water went to. It was a unique piece of art, and raised our travel experience up a notch. Anything you wouldn't see at home, is big in my book.
Mary had arranged to meet with a friend of hers who worked in Venice; a very nice girl by the name of Raphaelle (hope the spelling is correct!). Raphaelle went ahead with Mary and Rose to show them some sights. The rest of us were TOO HOT, and needed to chill, as the weather was in the 30's, and the gelatos we'd consumed were melting within, and without us. We needed to sit down - badly!
A hot and winding half hour's walk through cobbled streets brought us to St. Mark's Square. Similar to Duomo Square in Milan, it was packed with tourists and we offered to take photos for lots of happy honeymooners. Like the Eiffel Tower in Paris, St. Mark's square is one of those 'must-see' places in the world. The architecture and history of floodings is part of its charm. All around you can observe the green tide-lines where the river rises. It is especially high around November to January, when the city is under water siege.
Sitting in St. Mark's Square, we were serenaded by an exquisite string orchestra. It's what I imagined the music on the Titanic to be like. Images of water rising came into my head as I sat sipping delicious English tea in a fine bone china cup, accompanied by scones and clotted cream; reminiscent of the Empress Hotel in Victoria.
Food in Venice was even more expensive than Milan, and I noticed they were sort of meager with the portions. They gave me no prawns or decent seafood in my tagliatelle, just a couple of lousy cockles and mussels. I felt the hunger pangs. Yes, all around I noticed Venice was a bit measly with the grub; even the gelatos were slimmer. I'm a foodie and notice all these things; though I cannot fault the breakfast we got at 'Hotel Bell Epoque'. It was waitress served. We had our tea served to us in pots, as many cappuccinos as we desired, and plenty of food. So the hotel ticked all the satisfaction boxes for me.
Sister Sonya had been in Venice some years ago, and advised us not to buy souveniers around St. Mark's Square, as they are more expensive there. How right she was. Shoes I saw in Milan for 29.99 euros were 39.99 euros near St. Mark's. All the Murano glass goodies were WAY more expensive than the shops near us in the hotel. So, a word of advice...Shop Around, before you make any purchases. What to purchase? Murano Glass of course!
My abiding memory of Venice is a trip to Mary of Nazarath Church, and gliding along in a gondolo, singing the song 'Row row row your boat gently down the stream, merrily merrily glide along, life is but a dream...' And isn't it true...Life is but a dream. What a pleasant dream Venice was...
Choo Choo for now!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
MILAN
When my fashionista friend Mary suggested a trip to Milan - the undisputed Fashion Capital of the world - my response was Yes! Now that I'm back, was it worth it? YES a hundred times over. It did not disappoint. Not at all.
Negatives:
It was very expensive (especially bling, and sitting in people-watching cafes)
Noisy, because of the tram tracks everywhere, and trams going non-stop
Difficulty walking over the cobblestone walkways
The HEAT - Too damn hot for me! I bought a fan and always carried water.
The Italians speak English like I speak Italian - I don't!! Learn Italian before you go.
Positives:-
Everything else...
Delicious cappuccinos
Glamour, glitz and FASHION 24/7 like you've never before seen!
Emmanuel Vittoria Centre - Best people watching mall in the world
Via Montenapoleone (where all the big name shops are located) Gucci, Prada, etc.
La Scala Opera House (Teatro alla scala) the biggest opera house in Europe
Duomo Cathedral - an oasis of calm with magnificent architecture (cover shoulders)
Duoma Square - the heart of Milan - in my estimation
BRERA (the artsy area, and one of my favourite for eating and parading)
Bastianello Pasticceria, Via Borgogna 5, 20122 Milan - BEST gelato in town!
In fairness, I was only there for a few days. We devoted almost two days to Venice, a day for Verona, and a day for Lake Como, all of which were totally worth the time investment. So, I had to be fast and furious in getting a feel for Milan and the mad Milanesi. It was my third visit to Italy. I was in the North of Italy many years ago, Roma for my 50th, and now Milan. Third time lucky - with the gelato that is. In prior visits I was frustrated, to say the least, that I could not get a decent gelato to satisfy my ever-so-fussy taste buds. And it happened in the final hour - Hurrah!! I found 'The One' on my last day in Milan. A lot came together in the final day. I found a terrific restaurant, which served me the best salad I had eaten in my 8 Italian days. It was aptly named the 'Victory Milano', Via Borgogna 5 - 20122 Milano. It heralded Victory for me in the food and gelato department.
Sitting in the cool, sophisticated, and shady VM restaurant, surrounded by suave business people, being perfectly fussed over by immaculately dressed waiters, I spied with my little eye all these gorgeous Armani-clad fellows strolling by, dribbling and licking their gelatos in a way that told me they were 'special' (the gelatos I mean). As soon as we finished our lunch I followed them. Lo and Behold - they led me to the 'Harrods' of Milan, namely Bastianello Pasticerria, Via Borgogna 5, 20122, Milano. Google them and see what I mean. You can only fantasize I know. Please do not bother with any other gelato shop in Milan. If you want to taste what real gelato tastes like, visit the mama and papa of gelatos, and see what I mean. They have the largest selection in town. The presentation and quality is a Harrods food hall experience - without the exhorbitant prices I am happy to say!
Food-wise, unlike other cities in Italy, Milan is not all about the pasta. No. In fact some of Milan's staple dishes don't even include pasta. The Milanesi are famous for their 'Risotto alla Milanese' which is a yellow-saffron rice. I'm not big into risotto so it was wasted on me. I did however, enjoy the seafood tagliatelle and stuck with that. I know what I like and am not hugely into experimentation with food. Boring? perhaps. Since we're still talking food, did you know it was the Milanesi folk who actually started the 'Apertivo' also known as the 'Happy Hour'? In other words, free finger-food to keep you thirsty so you will drink loads and loads of fine wine and beer. It works. By finger-food I mean olives (the black being tastier than the green ones), tasteless crisps, prawns (in some swish establishments), and various bits and bobs of salty food.
Last but not least - shopping in Milan was expensive. I avoided the generic clothes shops you see everywhere in the world as time was precious, and I wanted to experience 'The Real-Deal' fashion experience - just to gawk and educate myself. By golly what pleasure! I did Prada, Armani, Ralph Lauren, Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, Massimo Dutti, Louis Vuitton and Vivienne Westwood, to name but a juicy few. When you enter these pleasure-palaces you are greeted by a host of beautiful shop assistants, mostly gay men (quelle surprise). They give you a polite 2 second lookover from the shoes up. They know in an instant whether you are going to shop or not. Despite my obvious poverty, I found them very pleasant and chatty, unlike similar establishments in Canada. They all have their 'Sheiks Corner' at the back of the shop where the Sheiks sit in velvet spleandour while their many wives shop til' they drop. If you are a Sheik or have won the lotto, personal shoppers will accompany you in stretch limousines to such pleasure domes. Just thought you'd like this bit of useless info.
Last, but not least - do you like soccer? If so, Milan is the place for you. It is home to two of the strongest soccer teams in the Italian League, namely, 'Inter' and 'A.C. Milan'. They are soccer krazeeee in this town.
My favourite and abiding memory of Milan is walking around Duoma Square in the cool of the evening, watching all the kids playing and chasing the birds, grown-ups linking each other; people eating gelato, newlyweds all around, everybody happy and smiling and joyful. It would appear nobody goes to bed around here until after 1.00 a.m. I was lining up at 12.45 AM (yes quarter to one in the morning) for a gelatto, and kids aged around 7 or 8 were lining up beside me. It wouldn't happen in Ireland or Canada for that matter!
So there you have it me darlings...some of the things that moved me in Milan!
Choo Choo for now!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Negatives:
It was very expensive (especially bling, and sitting in people-watching cafes)
Noisy, because of the tram tracks everywhere, and trams going non-stop
Difficulty walking over the cobblestone walkways
The HEAT - Too damn hot for me! I bought a fan and always carried water.
The Italians speak English like I speak Italian - I don't!! Learn Italian before you go.
Positives:-
Everything else...
Delicious cappuccinos
Glamour, glitz and FASHION 24/7 like you've never before seen!
Emmanuel Vittoria Centre - Best people watching mall in the world
Via Montenapoleone (where all the big name shops are located) Gucci, Prada, etc.
La Scala Opera House (Teatro alla scala) the biggest opera house in Europe
Duomo Cathedral - an oasis of calm with magnificent architecture (cover shoulders)
Duoma Square - the heart of Milan - in my estimation
BRERA (the artsy area, and one of my favourite for eating and parading)
Bastianello Pasticceria, Via Borgogna 5, 20122 Milan - BEST gelato in town!
In fairness, I was only there for a few days. We devoted almost two days to Venice, a day for Verona, and a day for Lake Como, all of which were totally worth the time investment. So, I had to be fast and furious in getting a feel for Milan and the mad Milanesi. It was my third visit to Italy. I was in the North of Italy many years ago, Roma for my 50th, and now Milan. Third time lucky - with the gelato that is. In prior visits I was frustrated, to say the least, that I could not get a decent gelato to satisfy my ever-so-fussy taste buds. And it happened in the final hour - Hurrah!! I found 'The One' on my last day in Milan. A lot came together in the final day. I found a terrific restaurant, which served me the best salad I had eaten in my 8 Italian days. It was aptly named the 'Victory Milano', Via Borgogna 5 - 20122 Milano. It heralded Victory for me in the food and gelato department.
Sitting in the cool, sophisticated, and shady VM restaurant, surrounded by suave business people, being perfectly fussed over by immaculately dressed waiters, I spied with my little eye all these gorgeous Armani-clad fellows strolling by, dribbling and licking their gelatos in a way that told me they were 'special' (the gelatos I mean). As soon as we finished our lunch I followed them. Lo and Behold - they led me to the 'Harrods' of Milan, namely Bastianello Pasticerria, Via Borgogna 5, 20122, Milano. Google them and see what I mean. You can only fantasize I know. Please do not bother with any other gelato shop in Milan. If you want to taste what real gelato tastes like, visit the mama and papa of gelatos, and see what I mean. They have the largest selection in town. The presentation and quality is a Harrods food hall experience - without the exhorbitant prices I am happy to say!
Food-wise, unlike other cities in Italy, Milan is not all about the pasta. No. In fact some of Milan's staple dishes don't even include pasta. The Milanesi are famous for their 'Risotto alla Milanese' which is a yellow-saffron rice. I'm not big into risotto so it was wasted on me. I did however, enjoy the seafood tagliatelle and stuck with that. I know what I like and am not hugely into experimentation with food. Boring? perhaps. Since we're still talking food, did you know it was the Milanesi folk who actually started the 'Apertivo' also known as the 'Happy Hour'? In other words, free finger-food to keep you thirsty so you will drink loads and loads of fine wine and beer. It works. By finger-food I mean olives (the black being tastier than the green ones), tasteless crisps, prawns (in some swish establishments), and various bits and bobs of salty food.
Last but not least - shopping in Milan was expensive. I avoided the generic clothes shops you see everywhere in the world as time was precious, and I wanted to experience 'The Real-Deal' fashion experience - just to gawk and educate myself. By golly what pleasure! I did Prada, Armani, Ralph Lauren, Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, Massimo Dutti, Louis Vuitton and Vivienne Westwood, to name but a juicy few. When you enter these pleasure-palaces you are greeted by a host of beautiful shop assistants, mostly gay men (quelle surprise). They give you a polite 2 second lookover from the shoes up. They know in an instant whether you are going to shop or not. Despite my obvious poverty, I found them very pleasant and chatty, unlike similar establishments in Canada. They all have their 'Sheiks Corner' at the back of the shop where the Sheiks sit in velvet spleandour while their many wives shop til' they drop. If you are a Sheik or have won the lotto, personal shoppers will accompany you in stretch limousines to such pleasure domes. Just thought you'd like this bit of useless info.
Last, but not least - do you like soccer? If so, Milan is the place for you. It is home to two of the strongest soccer teams in the Italian League, namely, 'Inter' and 'A.C. Milan'. They are soccer krazeeee in this town.
My favourite and abiding memory of Milan is walking around Duoma Square in the cool of the evening, watching all the kids playing and chasing the birds, grown-ups linking each other; people eating gelato, newlyweds all around, everybody happy and smiling and joyful. It would appear nobody goes to bed around here until after 1.00 a.m. I was lining up at 12.45 AM (yes quarter to one in the morning) for a gelatto, and kids aged around 7 or 8 were lining up beside me. It wouldn't happen in Ireland or Canada for that matter!
So there you have it me darlings...some of the things that moved me in Milan!
Choo Choo for now!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
ITALIAN MEN
Frankly, they are seriously insane. I would estimate they are shorter than the average Canadian male, but longer by far in the vanity department. If I was to bring one home in my suitcase, we'd both be hogging the mirror. Not fun! As a generalisation, they are very well turned out; some more than others. Coloured pants are very much in vogue in Italy at the moment, complete with linen jacket, and dapper suede shoes. The most extreme combination I saw was a man wearing all white, with a lilac linen jacket and dark purple suede shoes. Strange for a man - and yes, it was a man! I think...sometimes it's hard to know.
As we were gliding down the road on our gondola in Venice (road to them is river to us), I spotted a very smart looking fellow with dark yellow pants, navy blazer and green suede shoes (like Elvis, they sure love the suede). I asked him if I could take his photo as I would love my husband to dress like him. His response was "men wouldn't dress like me...they haven't the b***s". Excuse me? Did I hear what I thought I did?
They expend so much energy when communicating, it's no wonder they are so thin. They sound like they are arguing all the time. The hands, mouth, feet and eyes are always in full motion. As for the driving - this is where they really demonstrate the insanity bit! When you get into a taxi you take your life in your hands and yes - please put your seat belt on, and check your change.
Italian men love you... loving them. They like behinds, and they LOVE looking at women, fancy cars, and clothes. They wear shiny shoes so they can see their reflection on them. What astounds me is that more attention is paid in Italy to men's clothing stores, than to women's. I might be wrong, but I think Italian men spend more on their clothing than women. When I visited Ralph Lauren's decadent store on the fashionable Via Montenapoleone, it was 'All about the Boy'. Toy cars, exotic marble dogs with RL scarves around their necks, faux fireplace for the elegant RL man to sit and read his fashion magazine...a boy fantasy world...and the poor ladies had to trudge their way upstairs; granted, there was a fancy elevator to help transport you. Magnificent gilded portraits lined the walls on your way up to heaven.
When Italian men age, they leave their ladies at home, and head out into the fancy world of free tapas in bars, cigars, and chics. I noticed a lot of older men chatting together in bars, and not a woman between them. So when the lads are playing, the ladies are praying at home...or something like that. Weird.
But it's the walk...they sure know how to strut their fancy little stuff! Don't get me wrong, I think they are very well put together, but man it's the attitude! the arrogance, the sheer chauvenism, the brazen vanity, self-indulgence...bla bla bla. A law unto themselves!
Give me my darling CanIrish fellow any day. At least I can have the mirror to myself!!
Choo Choo!
Patricia xxx
As we were gliding down the road on our gondola in Venice (road to them is river to us), I spotted a very smart looking fellow with dark yellow pants, navy blazer and green suede shoes (like Elvis, they sure love the suede). I asked him if I could take his photo as I would love my husband to dress like him. His response was "men wouldn't dress like me...they haven't the b***s". Excuse me? Did I hear what I thought I did?
They expend so much energy when communicating, it's no wonder they are so thin. They sound like they are arguing all the time. The hands, mouth, feet and eyes are always in full motion. As for the driving - this is where they really demonstrate the insanity bit! When you get into a taxi you take your life in your hands and yes - please put your seat belt on, and check your change.
Italian men love you... loving them. They like behinds, and they LOVE looking at women, fancy cars, and clothes. They wear shiny shoes so they can see their reflection on them. What astounds me is that more attention is paid in Italy to men's clothing stores, than to women's. I might be wrong, but I think Italian men spend more on their clothing than women. When I visited Ralph Lauren's decadent store on the fashionable Via Montenapoleone, it was 'All about the Boy'. Toy cars, exotic marble dogs with RL scarves around their necks, faux fireplace for the elegant RL man to sit and read his fashion magazine...a boy fantasy world...and the poor ladies had to trudge their way upstairs; granted, there was a fancy elevator to help transport you. Magnificent gilded portraits lined the walls on your way up to heaven.
When Italian men age, they leave their ladies at home, and head out into the fancy world of free tapas in bars, cigars, and chics. I noticed a lot of older men chatting together in bars, and not a woman between them. So when the lads are playing, the ladies are praying at home...or something like that. Weird.
But it's the walk...they sure know how to strut their fancy little stuff! Don't get me wrong, I think they are very well put together, but man it's the attitude! the arrogance, the sheer chauvenism, the brazen vanity, self-indulgence...bla bla bla. A law unto themselves!
Give me my darling CanIrish fellow any day. At least I can have the mirror to myself!!
Choo Choo!
Patricia xxx
MILAN WAS HOT HOT HOT...
and I'm not just talking about the weather! suffice to say it was in the 30's. I got in late last night and I'm on an Italian high at the moment...Pardon... I miss my travelling buddies. We had so much fun together and shared many wonderful adventures. For seven totally different and 'strong' ladies, we all got on remarkably well t.g. Mary the organizer of the trip did a superb job and found us two amazing hotels. Hotel Rio in Milan was smack in the middle of the action, Located off Duoma square, beside the cathedral, and kiddy corner from my favourite shopping mall IN THE WORLD - Emmanuel Vittoria - has to be seen to be believed - the BEST people watching cafes ever - better than the Champs elysees. I did my fashion tour of Milan sitting and sipping my very exensive cappuccinos there. I could happily spend all day chez Emmanuel Vittoria... and never get bored! I really miss it.
With Hotel Rio, we did not sign up for luxury, but we did for tip top location, superb value for money, cleanliness, good breakfast, delicious cappuccinos, and the Rio was grand! I would go there again in a heartbeat...and God willing I fully intend to!
We did not sign up for luxury either in Venice's 'Hotel Belle Epoque' but boy we lucked out and got it! Mary got us an incredible last minute deal. It's good apparently, to check 'last minute deals' on line. It was easily a 5 star hotel, but we got it for 45 euros per night - bed and waitress-served breakfast. The location, like Hotel Rio, was again bang in the middle of the action. The whole touristy thing right on our doorstop - Gondolas, picture postcard views, shops, delicious aromas. I got tipsy on all the stimulation, but thankfully, no hangover.
Breakfast at both hotels was similar in that it was Continental style, which consisted of juice, cereal, ham, salami, cheese, sweet croissants and pastries, delicious yogurt, rolls, packages of melba toast, tea and coffee/cappuccinos. You could easily last until lunch or longer...
Be prepared...Italy is expensive, especially in the touristy areas we visited such as Milan, Venice, Verona, and Lake Como, where cappuccinos will put you back 7 euros, and salads up to 14 euros a toss. You think that is expensive? How about 70 (yes seventy!) euros for 4 large cappuccinos, 1 small bottle of water and 1 (one) sandwich. Yes, that's what we paid for the pleasure of sitting at a cafe at the Emmanuel Vittoria centre I mentioned earlier. That did not stop me sitting there again; it's just the next time we ordered one 'normal' cappuccino each. You pay for the people-watching pleasure and yes, it's worth it!
Mama wants to go out for a walk now...so I shall say bye bye for now. Tommorow d.v. I will post you more adventures from my Italian adventures...will tell you about the fascinating people we met... Food... Fashion...Shops...Verona, Venice, Lake Como (did we meet George Clooney on the lake? Tune in tomorrow and find out...)
BFN
Love,
Patricia xxx
With Hotel Rio, we did not sign up for luxury, but we did for tip top location, superb value for money, cleanliness, good breakfast, delicious cappuccinos, and the Rio was grand! I would go there again in a heartbeat...and God willing I fully intend to!
We did not sign up for luxury either in Venice's 'Hotel Belle Epoque' but boy we lucked out and got it! Mary got us an incredible last minute deal. It's good apparently, to check 'last minute deals' on line. It was easily a 5 star hotel, but we got it for 45 euros per night - bed and waitress-served breakfast. The location, like Hotel Rio, was again bang in the middle of the action. The whole touristy thing right on our doorstop - Gondolas, picture postcard views, shops, delicious aromas. I got tipsy on all the stimulation, but thankfully, no hangover.
Breakfast at both hotels was similar in that it was Continental style, which consisted of juice, cereal, ham, salami, cheese, sweet croissants and pastries, delicious yogurt, rolls, packages of melba toast, tea and coffee/cappuccinos. You could easily last until lunch or longer...
Be prepared...Italy is expensive, especially in the touristy areas we visited such as Milan, Venice, Verona, and Lake Como, where cappuccinos will put you back 7 euros, and salads up to 14 euros a toss. You think that is expensive? How about 70 (yes seventy!) euros for 4 large cappuccinos, 1 small bottle of water and 1 (one) sandwich. Yes, that's what we paid for the pleasure of sitting at a cafe at the Emmanuel Vittoria centre I mentioned earlier. That did not stop me sitting there again; it's just the next time we ordered one 'normal' cappuccino each. You pay for the people-watching pleasure and yes, it's worth it!
Mama wants to go out for a walk now...so I shall say bye bye for now. Tommorow d.v. I will post you more adventures from my Italian adventures...will tell you about the fascinating people we met... Food... Fashion...Shops...Verona, Venice, Lake Como (did we meet George Clooney on the lake? Tune in tomorrow and find out...)
BFN
Love,
Patricia xxx
Saturday, June 8, 2013
SHOPPING ON GRAFTON STREET
Grafton street is Dublin's answer to the Champs Elysees, Oxford Street, or 5th Avenue. if you will. And just like Vancouver's Robson street, it provides endless hours of entertainment. You get lots of bang and buzz for your buck! A visit there was definitely on my itinerary.
Thursday morning I awoke to a gloriously sunny day. Birds were chirping on the trees, staff were humming in the kitchen, and the hedonistic aroma of newly fried bacon and sausages lured me from the leaba (Irish word for bed). Sister Sonya or should I re-phrase 'Saint Sonya' suggested we head in there for a little visit and who was I to disagree. So after mother had finished her breakfast and returned to bed for a snooze, the pair of us headed into town.
We started off in my all-time favourite French Cafe in the St. Stephen's Green shopping centre and had my 'regular' mushroom and cheese stuffed croissant washed down with a large cappuccino, served in a cheery yellow cup. Delish!
Grafton street was alive alive O with tourists, traders, shoppers, flower sellers, buskers, musicians (good enough to be on t.v.) and would you believe - even Leprechauns! Yes, I spotted two of them. One was a normal sized Leprechaun and dressed to kill. He had a mini version for the tourists. You could kneel down and stick your head through a hole and voila in a moment you became a Leprechaun yourself - and for a tidy sum, could bring back a picture of yourself as a Leprechaun. I was tempted but I could see Sonya's eyes steeled in the direction of the glamour palaces. No leprechaun photos for that glamour puss!
Brown Thomas is our answer to Neiman Marcus in the States, Holt Renfrew in Canada, and Harrods in London. So, if you're familiar with those stores, you'll know exactly what I mean. Lots of fantasy goods at prohibitive prices. I decided to give it a miss for fear of temptation...and seeing that I'll need my shillings for Milan and Venice.
Instead we did shops like River Island, Topshop, Pamela Scott and Wallace, to name but a tasty few. T.K. Max would be the same as our Winners, except I think the Canadian Winners stores are better value. River Island was voluptuary in its seasonal style. Short flirty skirts that would drive any fellow mad, and bright cheery bikini tops in the 'Lolita' style. So if the weather continues, I suspect there will be lots of fender benders caused by 'River Island' gals strutting their stuff! As with Canada, the bright fluorescent colours are all the rage over here. Fashion is universal. The big difference is the cost. Ireland is still a lot more expensive than Canada. AND I have to say...I am spoilt for Banana Republic!
Mum remarked that I was never as well dressed as I am this time. Per usual, I did a little fashion show for her upon my arrival. I Donned all my Banana Repubic gems and she went ooh and ahh. My whole wardrobe is either BR or Ralph Lauren. So thank you Miss Victoria and BANANA REPUBLIC. You're my tutti frutti darlings! So when you've had the best...it's hard to settle for the rest! So sorry, Grafton Street shops...I just seccumed to a cute little lime coloured jacket with black zippers in River Island. And a large black and gold straw hat to protect my coiffure from the harsh Italian sun.
The buzz, the bling, the excitement, the colour, the street aromas, Bewley's Cafe, Brown Thomas, memories of window shopping with mum when I was a child, Clarendon Street Church, the grandour of Trinity College, and feeding the ducks in Stephen's Green - that's what Grafton Street is to me. Love Love Love it!
Choo Choo for now!
Slainte!
Patricia xxx
Thursday morning I awoke to a gloriously sunny day. Birds were chirping on the trees, staff were humming in the kitchen, and the hedonistic aroma of newly fried bacon and sausages lured me from the leaba (Irish word for bed). Sister Sonya or should I re-phrase 'Saint Sonya' suggested we head in there for a little visit and who was I to disagree. So after mother had finished her breakfast and returned to bed for a snooze, the pair of us headed into town.
We started off in my all-time favourite French Cafe in the St. Stephen's Green shopping centre and had my 'regular' mushroom and cheese stuffed croissant washed down with a large cappuccino, served in a cheery yellow cup. Delish!
Grafton street was alive alive O with tourists, traders, shoppers, flower sellers, buskers, musicians (good enough to be on t.v.) and would you believe - even Leprechauns! Yes, I spotted two of them. One was a normal sized Leprechaun and dressed to kill. He had a mini version for the tourists. You could kneel down and stick your head through a hole and voila in a moment you became a Leprechaun yourself - and for a tidy sum, could bring back a picture of yourself as a Leprechaun. I was tempted but I could see Sonya's eyes steeled in the direction of the glamour palaces. No leprechaun photos for that glamour puss!
Brown Thomas is our answer to Neiman Marcus in the States, Holt Renfrew in Canada, and Harrods in London. So, if you're familiar with those stores, you'll know exactly what I mean. Lots of fantasy goods at prohibitive prices. I decided to give it a miss for fear of temptation...and seeing that I'll need my shillings for Milan and Venice.
Instead we did shops like River Island, Topshop, Pamela Scott and Wallace, to name but a tasty few. T.K. Max would be the same as our Winners, except I think the Canadian Winners stores are better value. River Island was voluptuary in its seasonal style. Short flirty skirts that would drive any fellow mad, and bright cheery bikini tops in the 'Lolita' style. So if the weather continues, I suspect there will be lots of fender benders caused by 'River Island' gals strutting their stuff! As with Canada, the bright fluorescent colours are all the rage over here. Fashion is universal. The big difference is the cost. Ireland is still a lot more expensive than Canada. AND I have to say...I am spoilt for Banana Republic!
Mum remarked that I was never as well dressed as I am this time. Per usual, I did a little fashion show for her upon my arrival. I Donned all my Banana Repubic gems and she went ooh and ahh. My whole wardrobe is either BR or Ralph Lauren. So thank you Miss Victoria and BANANA REPUBLIC. You're my tutti frutti darlings! So when you've had the best...it's hard to settle for the rest! So sorry, Grafton Street shops...I just seccumed to a cute little lime coloured jacket with black zippers in River Island. And a large black and gold straw hat to protect my coiffure from the harsh Italian sun.
The buzz, the bling, the excitement, the colour, the street aromas, Bewley's Cafe, Brown Thomas, memories of window shopping with mum when I was a child, Clarendon Street Church, the grandour of Trinity College, and feeding the ducks in Stephen's Green - that's what Grafton Street is to me. Love Love Love it!
Choo Choo for now!
Slainte!
Patricia xxx
Thursday, June 6, 2013
IT'S A BEAUTIFUL DAY!
Everywhere I go in Dublin, Michael (Buble) is singing my song of the summer 'It's a beautiful day...'. Mum and I were in a bookshop yesterday and there he was singing away to his heart's content, and mine. It was even affecting the fellow working in the bookshop because when mother asked him how the acclaimed Irish mystic and poet John O'Donohue had died, his response was "Oh nooo nooooo we don't talk death in here. Noooooooo This is a happy place!' I dunno how it could be a happy place when they are selling off books cheaper than the cost of a bar of chocolate! Such is life at the moment for book sellers, and unfortunately those adversely affected by the scourge or recession plague, which is tearing at the hearts and souls of good Irish folk.
Yes, Ireland as I see it could be like Disneyland - 'The Happiest Place on Earth', were it not for the existence of a particularly nasty breed of animal, currently wreaking havoc in the hearts of decent men and women. This animal has horns, stings like a bee, and has been even known to cause deaths - in extreme cases! He enters the beds of folk at night, and gets right into their heads - nasty I know! Symptoms of 'Beast Infestation' include severe anxiety, heart palpitations, loss of appetite, weight loss, and nights sweats. He is known by different names, the most common of which is 'BANKER'. Other common names for this animal are 'Ba*tard', Fu*ker, Wank*r, and the list goes on...
What should the decent people of Ireland do, to rid themselves of this plague?
For one thing, they need to pray their guts out, just like their ancestors did in times gone by. Ireland was known as 'The Island of Saints and Scholars'. There is an abundance of scholars still around, but alas, less of the Saints. In times of plenty, the banker beast behaved like the devil did in the garden of Eden - he tempted innocent folk and threw out candy cash like crumbs to a hungry bird - nasty nasty!! Then the bubble burst and tears of regret have followed tears of frustration.
PRAYER is the only solution, as I see it. Because God is more powerful than the force of evil. When life becomes too difficult to stand - KNEEL!
I love Ireland, I love its beauty, creativity, humour and deep spirituality. Maybe what is happening here now is God's way of saying 'Come to me all you who labour and are in pain...come to me, and I will give you rest, peace of mind, and HOPE!
Choo Choo for now me darlings!
Patricia xxx
Yes, Ireland as I see it could be like Disneyland - 'The Happiest Place on Earth', were it not for the existence of a particularly nasty breed of animal, currently wreaking havoc in the hearts of decent men and women. This animal has horns, stings like a bee, and has been even known to cause deaths - in extreme cases! He enters the beds of folk at night, and gets right into their heads - nasty I know! Symptoms of 'Beast Infestation' include severe anxiety, heart palpitations, loss of appetite, weight loss, and nights sweats. He is known by different names, the most common of which is 'BANKER'. Other common names for this animal are 'Ba*tard', Fu*ker, Wank*r, and the list goes on...
What should the decent people of Ireland do, to rid themselves of this plague?
For one thing, they need to pray their guts out, just like their ancestors did in times gone by. Ireland was known as 'The Island of Saints and Scholars'. There is an abundance of scholars still around, but alas, less of the Saints. In times of plenty, the banker beast behaved like the devil did in the garden of Eden - he tempted innocent folk and threw out candy cash like crumbs to a hungry bird - nasty nasty!! Then the bubble burst and tears of regret have followed tears of frustration.
PRAYER is the only solution, as I see it. Because God is more powerful than the force of evil. When life becomes too difficult to stand - KNEEL!
I love Ireland, I love its beauty, creativity, humour and deep spirituality. Maybe what is happening here now is God's way of saying 'Come to me all you who labour and are in pain...come to me, and I will give you rest, peace of mind, and HOPE!
Choo Choo for now me darlings!
Patricia xxx
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
TIME TO MINGLE!
Yes, that's what my horoscope said today, and I agree! Mingling is fun at the moment, especially since the sun is currently in fun loving, flirty Gemini. So wherever you find yourself my darlings, it is time to Rise and Shine and share your brilliance with the world. Astrological knowledge has taught me that each of the 12 signs from Aries to Pisces have something unique to contribute to the world. Every little bit helps! What will you do today??
Aries - Be your honest, resilient, and creative self!
Taurus - Share your sensuality, culinary skills, and earthy humour!
Gemini - Charm us with your wit, creativity, and spontaneity!
Cancer - Mother us with your kindness, love, and warmth!
Leo - Entertain us with your larger-than-life personality!
Virgo - Charm us with your beauty, kindness, and great work ethic!
Libra - Thrill us with your fashion sense, charisma and beautiful smile!
Scorpio - Intrigue us with your mystery, depth, and amazing eyes!
Sagittarius - Be our Cheerleader with your optimism, wisdom and wit!
Capricorn - Impress us with your classiness, reliability and whacky humour!
Aquarius - We need your friendly, humanitarian, and unique approach to life!
Pisces - We all need your shoulder to cry on, your charm and creativity!
So you see - Life is all about TEAM EFFORT!
GET OUT OF YOUR HEAD... AND INTO YOUR BODY...live in the NOW!
Enjoy the warmth of the sun on your face, take time to observe the clouds in the sky, flirt, smile, laugh, and last but not least BE KIND to each other!
Yes, chatty Gemini has influenced today's blog.
Talk Soon!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Aries - Be your honest, resilient, and creative self!
Taurus - Share your sensuality, culinary skills, and earthy humour!
Gemini - Charm us with your wit, creativity, and spontaneity!
Cancer - Mother us with your kindness, love, and warmth!
Leo - Entertain us with your larger-than-life personality!
Virgo - Charm us with your beauty, kindness, and great work ethic!
Libra - Thrill us with your fashion sense, charisma and beautiful smile!
Scorpio - Intrigue us with your mystery, depth, and amazing eyes!
Sagittarius - Be our Cheerleader with your optimism, wisdom and wit!
Capricorn - Impress us with your classiness, reliability and whacky humour!
Aquarius - We need your friendly, humanitarian, and unique approach to life!
Pisces - We all need your shoulder to cry on, your charm and creativity!
So you see - Life is all about TEAM EFFORT!
GET OUT OF YOUR HEAD... AND INTO YOUR BODY...live in the NOW!
Enjoy the warmth of the sun on your face, take time to observe the clouds in the sky, flirt, smile, laugh, and last but not least BE KIND to each other!
Yes, chatty Gemini has influenced today's blog.
Talk Soon!
Love,
Patricia xxx
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
DEAR AULD DUBLIN!
What makes this city so special? Why is it that every tourist who comes here wants to stay? (I know that for sure because I met one in Victoria recently). The gardener on the chip trail had worked in Ireland some years ago and was returning again the end of March "forever this time". I asked her the reason for her love affair with Ireland, despite the fact she had no connection with the country - no ancestry - nothing! "I just love the people" was her simple response. "They are so warm and welcoming". And there you have it.
Despite the fact Ireland is bleeding from a deep and very painful recession, nothing can repress that Irish sense of humour. Just walking around the place, I'm looking at it now through the eyes of a tourist.
I went into the church in Rathmines on Sunday evening to light a candle. It's a place that holds many happy memories for me. Ali and Victoria were baptised there. I had my first mass there with Kevin 31 years ago (still have the mass sheet). So it's a place close to my heart. I was greeted by a blonde lady whose face I recognized from the time I went to church there more than 20 years ago. She used to cycle around Rathmines with a bicycle that had a wicker basket in front. A bit eccentric, but pleasant with it. I was a stranger to her but she came over to me and invited me to blow out the candles with her as the church was closing. "You can make a wish with each candle you blow out" she said. Later she gave me a big hug and introduced me to the Parish Priest, and a few girls who happened to be there. The priest had been to Victoria for half a day and remembered it very favourably. So there I was in the middle of a group of strangers, and made to feel like family! That's Dublin for you!
Today I was in the supermarket looking for some odds and ends. A smart looking elderly lady approached me. She looked well into her 80's, carrying an expensive designer bag and fitted green jacket, which I admired "it's ten years old dear" she whispered. "don't let on you know". Next, she asked for my advice on coffee saying her usual one 'doesn't give me a kick any more'. I would not have thought a lady of her age was into kicks any more - apparently I was wrong! I told her to stick with the Costa Rica which her doctor had recommended, but to up on the spoons of coffee she put in. We chatted awhile like long lost relatives and I discovered her grandson lived in Nova Scotia and had just graduated from university here, but still couldn't get a job 'over there'. I told her to tell him to try Alberta where the serious money was. "Oh no dear, he is too spoilt and pampered for Alberta! He's not into oil, or getting his hands dirty". This lady knew her stuff! It was an entertaining way to while away a few minutes - That's Dublin for you! Strangers like old friends. And I haven't even gone into a pub yet!!
Dublin was one big street party yesterday as 40,000 women ran in the 30th Dublin women's mini-marathon. The glorious sunshine added to the great atmosphere. I chatted to loads of them - some of them well into their 60's and 70's and they were all delighted with themselves. That's Dublin for you!
The fellow at Vinnie's (SVP) was chatting me up goodo and sold me 3 gorgeous Indian brass bracelets. He knocked them down from 2 euros each to 50 cents "just for you dear" that's because I told him his pal was a ringer for the fellow in the Clancy Brothers "a younger version of course". I felt flattered by his attention and delighted with my bargains!! - That's Dublin for you!! They have the bleedin' blarney in buckets and now that the weather is fabulous - there's no stopping the charm and happy vibes!
That's Dublin in the not so rare auld times. It always amazes me when I come home that no matter what adversity hits them, the people never lose their sense of humour and warmth - and I hope they never will!
Cheers for now!
Patricia xxx
Despite the fact Ireland is bleeding from a deep and very painful recession, nothing can repress that Irish sense of humour. Just walking around the place, I'm looking at it now through the eyes of a tourist.
I went into the church in Rathmines on Sunday evening to light a candle. It's a place that holds many happy memories for me. Ali and Victoria were baptised there. I had my first mass there with Kevin 31 years ago (still have the mass sheet). So it's a place close to my heart. I was greeted by a blonde lady whose face I recognized from the time I went to church there more than 20 years ago. She used to cycle around Rathmines with a bicycle that had a wicker basket in front. A bit eccentric, but pleasant with it. I was a stranger to her but she came over to me and invited me to blow out the candles with her as the church was closing. "You can make a wish with each candle you blow out" she said. Later she gave me a big hug and introduced me to the Parish Priest, and a few girls who happened to be there. The priest had been to Victoria for half a day and remembered it very favourably. So there I was in the middle of a group of strangers, and made to feel like family! That's Dublin for you!
Today I was in the supermarket looking for some odds and ends. A smart looking elderly lady approached me. She looked well into her 80's, carrying an expensive designer bag and fitted green jacket, which I admired "it's ten years old dear" she whispered. "don't let on you know". Next, she asked for my advice on coffee saying her usual one 'doesn't give me a kick any more'. I would not have thought a lady of her age was into kicks any more - apparently I was wrong! I told her to stick with the Costa Rica which her doctor had recommended, but to up on the spoons of coffee she put in. We chatted awhile like long lost relatives and I discovered her grandson lived in Nova Scotia and had just graduated from university here, but still couldn't get a job 'over there'. I told her to tell him to try Alberta where the serious money was. "Oh no dear, he is too spoilt and pampered for Alberta! He's not into oil, or getting his hands dirty". This lady knew her stuff! It was an entertaining way to while away a few minutes - That's Dublin for you! Strangers like old friends. And I haven't even gone into a pub yet!!
Dublin was one big street party yesterday as 40,000 women ran in the 30th Dublin women's mini-marathon. The glorious sunshine added to the great atmosphere. I chatted to loads of them - some of them well into their 60's and 70's and they were all delighted with themselves. That's Dublin for you!
The fellow at Vinnie's (SVP) was chatting me up goodo and sold me 3 gorgeous Indian brass bracelets. He knocked them down from 2 euros each to 50 cents "just for you dear" that's because I told him his pal was a ringer for the fellow in the Clancy Brothers "a younger version of course". I felt flattered by his attention and delighted with my bargains!! - That's Dublin for you!! They have the bleedin' blarney in buckets and now that the weather is fabulous - there's no stopping the charm and happy vibes!
That's Dublin in the not so rare auld times. It always amazes me when I come home that no matter what adversity hits them, the people never lose their sense of humour and warmth - and I hope they never will!
Cheers for now!
Patricia xxx
Monday, June 3, 2013
THE JOY OF TRAVEL!
Did you know coaches now weigh suitcases? That's what I discovered when I arrived at the bus depot. My suitcase was 11 lbs. over and they wanted to charge me an extra $15. The girls helped me take some stuff out. No fee for me!! Like parking tickets, they make me feel annoyed, especially when I get nothing for my money!
Got to Vancouver and decided to offload some things in the condo. By the time I had finished, it still felt heavy - dang! Half the load were presents...and I was determined to bring that peanut butter over to Camilla. Such is love!
Saturday morning I arrived at the airport to discover an object akin to a gallows, surrounded by the suitcase SAS. They were fierce looking. Dang again! Three tough looking fellows, with the task of weighing suitcases. The blarney wasn't going to work here. 23 kgs. or 50 lbs - no more - less yes.
I found a quiet weighing machine and yes, I was 6 lbs. over. A group of Americans were beside me doing the same thing - offloading, weighing again, offloading, and weighing the bag again. I wished there and then I could be like Dick Whittington and fit all my stuff into a little bag, and carry it over my shoulder. No such luck. They were laughing at the sight of me talking to my suitcase "O.K. you little darlings in there - who's next for the cut?' I had two choices, I could either pay the $100 fee or get a cute little bag in the shop, with wheels on it for $19. I ended up with a nice little bag to keep, and no fee for the suitcase SAS!
Next, I joined the line of quivering travellers waiting to have their suitcase weighed. It was worse than waiting in line at weight-watchers - way worse because at WW they don't charge you $100 if you are overweight!! The bag was put on a scale and the weight registered on a big screen which everybody could see. My case weighed in at 23 kgs. - not an ounce under or over. The first time I had a perfect score. I let out a deserved roar of delight. Yeah! My girls would have been mortified if they were with me.
On my flight to Toronto, I had a window seat and was 'imprisoned' beside a man who kept releasing stink bombs! Yes...the joy of travelling. No, it wasn't me Claudia!!
Just as well I was at the airport two hours before the flight, as I needed every minute. I had barely enough time to grab a quick coffee and croissant. When I arrived at Toronto the airport was really busy with crowds everywhere. I was starving and exhausted as they did not feed us on the flight. You had to pay for the food. I had my purse locked up above me, and did not want to disturb the stink bomber in case he became agitated, and released more gas. No way! So I starved in silence.
I was lucky to find an empty seat at a little food bar, only to discover a puddle of water beneath me. The waitress freaked to her boss "Quick there is huge leak coming from the bar area". I had to move while they cleaned up the mess, and was embarrassed as people were looking in my direction. 'NO, it wasn't me'. Would I ever get food? By this time I was really ravenous.
Success at last, I had the nicest cup of tea - ever. I asked the waitress the name of the tea. 'Rishi Chinese breakfast tea'. I shall look for it. The best ever! and the tuna sandwich was toe tingling good as well. Nothing like a satisfied tummy to make a gal feel normal again. I was ready for the next leg of the journey.
The flight to Dublin was 30 mins. late. I was sitting beside a 'peculiar' looking fellow who had a strange aura about him. Fortunately, there were two free seats to the left of me. I asked the weird looking man if he would like to stretch out his legs and decided to move over to the two spare seats. It was a good idea as I had far more room, and I did not want a repeat of the stink bomber from the previous flight.
The journey flew. I did 3 word searches, put on my teeth whitening strips for 2 hours, listened to several CD's, including Marianne Williamson's 'The Age of Miracles', Doreen Virtue's 'How to hear your Angels', Michael Buble, Josh Groban and Marilla Ness's 'The Rosary'. The new ear phones Kevin gave me were fantastic.
At last we arrive in Dublin. An elderly man, with a bloodshot eye, limp, and foul breath tagged along with me, telling me his life story, and why he was going to Ireland, and how he lived with his elderly mother all his life, and now since she died, he is travelling and living his life. (was he looking for a woman?). He was travelling to Ireland to sing and dance for old folk, and play some videos. He had thousands of videos. I marvelled at the energy out of him coming from a 7 hour flight! I felt sorry for him, so made an effort to be kind, yet at the same time realized my tendency to attract strange men on flights. I didn't know what to do, so as I rushed to the passport police, I broke my lovely peacock ring - dang again! In the rush of people, I lost my fellow. Maybe, it was just as well, as there was nothing I could do for him!
It was gloriously sunny. My sista Sonya met me, and we enjoyed a nice creamy Bewley's Cappuccino - yum yum! You have to have your Bewley's coffee. It's Ireland's answer to Starbucks.
Home is now in Sonya and David's luxurious hotel 'The Uppercross House Hotel' and what comfort! (www.uppercrosshousehotel.com). The food is 'ta die for'. Mum had lamb last evening and I had a chicken curry. Mother and I share a two-bedroomed suite with our own kitchen, and two bathrooms. She was in great form and looking terrific. I want to look like that at near 91 d.v.! Uppercross is located in Rathmines, which is Dublin's answer to Blvd. St. Michel. Need I say any more... It is right in the heart of the action, surrounded by shops and bars and restaurants. You can walk into the centre of Dublin from here. A bright, buzzy place. And I love it. When I lived in Dublin this is where I liked to hang out. I lived in Ranelagh, just a short walk from Rathmines.
Now, it's time to catch up on my beauty sleep!
Talk soon!
Love ya,
Patricia xxx
Got to Vancouver and decided to offload some things in the condo. By the time I had finished, it still felt heavy - dang! Half the load were presents...and I was determined to bring that peanut butter over to Camilla. Such is love!
Saturday morning I arrived at the airport to discover an object akin to a gallows, surrounded by the suitcase SAS. They were fierce looking. Dang again! Three tough looking fellows, with the task of weighing suitcases. The blarney wasn't going to work here. 23 kgs. or 50 lbs - no more - less yes.
I found a quiet weighing machine and yes, I was 6 lbs. over. A group of Americans were beside me doing the same thing - offloading, weighing again, offloading, and weighing the bag again. I wished there and then I could be like Dick Whittington and fit all my stuff into a little bag, and carry it over my shoulder. No such luck. They were laughing at the sight of me talking to my suitcase "O.K. you little darlings in there - who's next for the cut?' I had two choices, I could either pay the $100 fee or get a cute little bag in the shop, with wheels on it for $19. I ended up with a nice little bag to keep, and no fee for the suitcase SAS!
Next, I joined the line of quivering travellers waiting to have their suitcase weighed. It was worse than waiting in line at weight-watchers - way worse because at WW they don't charge you $100 if you are overweight!! The bag was put on a scale and the weight registered on a big screen which everybody could see. My case weighed in at 23 kgs. - not an ounce under or over. The first time I had a perfect score. I let out a deserved roar of delight. Yeah! My girls would have been mortified if they were with me.
On my flight to Toronto, I had a window seat and was 'imprisoned' beside a man who kept releasing stink bombs! Yes...the joy of travelling. No, it wasn't me Claudia!!
Just as well I was at the airport two hours before the flight, as I needed every minute. I had barely enough time to grab a quick coffee and croissant. When I arrived at Toronto the airport was really busy with crowds everywhere. I was starving and exhausted as they did not feed us on the flight. You had to pay for the food. I had my purse locked up above me, and did not want to disturb the stink bomber in case he became agitated, and released more gas. No way! So I starved in silence.
I was lucky to find an empty seat at a little food bar, only to discover a puddle of water beneath me. The waitress freaked to her boss "Quick there is huge leak coming from the bar area". I had to move while they cleaned up the mess, and was embarrassed as people were looking in my direction. 'NO, it wasn't me'. Would I ever get food? By this time I was really ravenous.
Success at last, I had the nicest cup of tea - ever. I asked the waitress the name of the tea. 'Rishi Chinese breakfast tea'. I shall look for it. The best ever! and the tuna sandwich was toe tingling good as well. Nothing like a satisfied tummy to make a gal feel normal again. I was ready for the next leg of the journey.
The flight to Dublin was 30 mins. late. I was sitting beside a 'peculiar' looking fellow who had a strange aura about him. Fortunately, there were two free seats to the left of me. I asked the weird looking man if he would like to stretch out his legs and decided to move over to the two spare seats. It was a good idea as I had far more room, and I did not want a repeat of the stink bomber from the previous flight.
The journey flew. I did 3 word searches, put on my teeth whitening strips for 2 hours, listened to several CD's, including Marianne Williamson's 'The Age of Miracles', Doreen Virtue's 'How to hear your Angels', Michael Buble, Josh Groban and Marilla Ness's 'The Rosary'. The new ear phones Kevin gave me were fantastic.
At last we arrive in Dublin. An elderly man, with a bloodshot eye, limp, and foul breath tagged along with me, telling me his life story, and why he was going to Ireland, and how he lived with his elderly mother all his life, and now since she died, he is travelling and living his life. (was he looking for a woman?). He was travelling to Ireland to sing and dance for old folk, and play some videos. He had thousands of videos. I marvelled at the energy out of him coming from a 7 hour flight! I felt sorry for him, so made an effort to be kind, yet at the same time realized my tendency to attract strange men on flights. I didn't know what to do, so as I rushed to the passport police, I broke my lovely peacock ring - dang again! In the rush of people, I lost my fellow. Maybe, it was just as well, as there was nothing I could do for him!
It was gloriously sunny. My sista Sonya met me, and we enjoyed a nice creamy Bewley's Cappuccino - yum yum! You have to have your Bewley's coffee. It's Ireland's answer to Starbucks.
Home is now in Sonya and David's luxurious hotel 'The Uppercross House Hotel' and what comfort! (www.uppercrosshousehotel.com). The food is 'ta die for'. Mum had lamb last evening and I had a chicken curry. Mother and I share a two-bedroomed suite with our own kitchen, and two bathrooms. She was in great form and looking terrific. I want to look like that at near 91 d.v.! Uppercross is located in Rathmines, which is Dublin's answer to Blvd. St. Michel. Need I say any more... It is right in the heart of the action, surrounded by shops and bars and restaurants. You can walk into the centre of Dublin from here. A bright, buzzy place. And I love it. When I lived in Dublin this is where I liked to hang out. I lived in Ranelagh, just a short walk from Rathmines.
Now, it's time to catch up on my beauty sleep!
Talk soon!
Love ya,
Patricia xxx
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