where I succumb to the power of suggestion

The other day, Nora posted a picture on her blog. It was an innocuous photo, that had nothing to do with her post. She did mention to me that she had thought of me as she put it in her post after I wrote to her saying I now needed to go out and buy the product. The picture was of a litre carton of a Dutch custard called vla, nicely place in a lush green field. (I'd also like that green field, but apparently a snow storm is on its way). Vla comes in various flavours, like chocolate and banana, but by far the best flavour is vanilla.

I was introduced to vla when I lived in Holland many, many years ago. The family I was billeted with for for my first six months introduced me to many of the common Dutch foods, which had I been staying on my own (as I was for the rest of my time there) I would never had known about. Every night they had yogourt for dessert. every freaking night. This was back in the late 1970s and yoghourt was not as much of a staple food yet. It was also very different than any yogourt that we had in Canada. This was plain yogourt and not sweetened in any way and it had an entirely different consistency. We added our own sugar, which were large granules. Having been used to only refined sugar, these granules were a wonderfully tasty novelty and I added lots of them to my yoghourt. Then, one night a boat of this custard appeared on the table along with the bowl of yoghourt. Not being sure what the custom was, I watched as everyone spooned up the yoghourt into their plates (I seem to remember we used plates instead of bowls) and then poured a dollop of this custard on top. Then they gently swirled it all together. I followed suit. Yummy. Or to use the Dutch vernacular, lekker. Who would have ever thought of mixing custard and yoghourt together? The correct proportion of vla to yoghourt will yield a delectable flavour burst of tart and sweet.

It has become comfort food to me now, second only to warm rice pudding.

But Nora also asked, ever so innocently, in her email if, when I went to the Dutch Shop, I would also buy hagelslag, which are chocolate sprinkles. I hadn't planned on it. I have almost gotten myself sick of chocolate and Nutella over the Christmas season.
But then, I thought about how good that would be, on fresh, white bread with a thick layer of butter holding all the little sprinkles in place....






except I came home and realized I only had rye bread. and no plain yoghourt.

no worries.

I've been under the weather, I deserve comforting

thanks, Nora.

now I will just try to not think about how much I paid for this treat
(4.47 euros - go ahead, break my heart and tell me how much it really costs)




I tend not to look at too many of the items in this store since everything but the fresh foods is imported, it tends to be rather expensive. And pretty much everything of the other kitchen supplies you can now get here and not only in Europe. Except for this one thing I have been searching for in vain for years.

and there, on top of the deli counter, for some inexplicable reason was a jar full of these.

This must be the best kitchen utensil since the spoon - a flessenlikker, literally a bottle licker.






And on the link I added for the wikipedia explanation of vla I discovered that this implement was actually designed to get all that liquidy goodness out of the tall glass bottles it originally came in. Unfortunately, vla now comes in cartons which still makes getting all of it out difficult. Apparently it is almost unknown outside the Netherlands. I can't wait until I need it to scrape the sides of the Nutella jar.

in aisle 25

It was all quiet on Carlton Street in front of this shrine on Friday afternoon, but Wednesday morning was a different story. People actually started lining up on the street on Tuesday night to be first to enter the new Loblaws at Maple Leaf Gardens (MLG) when it opened at 8AM on November 30th. Almost exactly 80 years after its original Grand Opening as a hockey arena and home to the Toronto Maple Leafs (until 1999)

Now, it is a grocery store.

I had to see it when it was still all bright and shiny new

(and in full disclosure, this was only my second time ever being in this place of so many memories)

It is a store with special touches












and a giant Amazing Wall of Cheese

and a popular sushi bar placed at the outside wall with windows onto the street for some great theatre

When it was first announced that a grocery chain had bought this iconic building, there was much gnashing of teeth at the effrontery of it all. MLG is considered a hallowed shrine. It was not only used for a beloved hockey team, but was also the venue for many other sporting events, not least for wrestling and boxing. Then there were the concerts - Elvis and the Beatles among them. 

This new store is actually full of mementoes of these events. From the pictures on the pillars to the old posters on the walls and even the cafe tables are a collage of old sporting event memorabilia shots.

At the entrance is a collection of the old chairs from the arena painted in blue and (artfully?) arranged on the wall in the shape of a maple leaf. The original walls were left exposed and one can still see the imprint of the risers next to the new escalators. Further up and not yet finished will be an athletic centre and a new hockey rink for the nearby university. This building and its owners has also been riddled with controversy over the years, which just adds to the legendary status and the controversy continues (but I won't bore you with details. google it if you are really interested)

This is as much a tourist attraction as a grocery store for a badly needed vibe in this area and there were staff galore handing out maps and brochures and guiding you to see the sights. Halcyon, who was with me, desperately wanted to get a picture of their specially designed t-shirts, but everyone declined (bosses were likely watching carefully on the security cameras) but I managed a covert shot of these two poor sods in1930s newsboys outfits who wandered around handing out free bags and colourful brochures for the special events being held.

and then there is aisle 25.

where near the end, surrounded by soy sauces, is a red dot.

this folks, is the very spot of centre ice. 

seriously, next to the amazing wall of cheese, this was possibly the biggest attraction

and as you can see by this large billboard (interestingly seen across the street at Church and Carlton) 

this was a major, show stopping event.

chills

During my more or less lucid moments of the past few days, I was writing a blog post in my head to tell you all how sick and miserable I was feeling. No gory details (I will spare you that horror) but mostly to garner sympathy for my chills and fever. Someone to bring me chicken soup and put fresh linens on the bed might be nice, too.

But all that paled in importance when I heard that The Sagittarian's of More Canterbury Tales house was destroyed in the latest earthquake. They are all safe.

My heart goes out to all the people New Zealand.

no photos

A few weeks ago I went to see Priscilla, Queen of the Desert at the Princess of Wales Theatre in Toronto. It was a fun filled, elaborate production (and that bus is freaking amazing, with thousands of LED lights somehow embedded in it to transform it to pink and provide a backdrop to the travels through the desert). Last week, I finally went to see a bloggy friend act in Shakespeare in Hollywood at a community theatre in Rochester. It was small and intimate and full of laughs and had a not so elaborate donkey's head. I love going to the theatre. I love to see the energy from the actors. The magic that can be created from an imaginative set design. And the instant reaction from the audience. But I had never seen anyone I knew personally acting in a play, so I was excited about that. It can be just as enjoyable to see a lavish multi-million dollar production as it is for a much smaller, but no less energetic production from a local company that obviously enjoys being together. The drag queen in the one was expected, the antics of the drag queen in the other was a pleasant and comical surprise.

And far be it from me to make a trip to anywhere without multi tasking (I can't even go across town without planning on getting at least two chores done), so when I looked into this trip I also planned a visit to the George Eastman House (he of Kodak fame) I thought it might be nice to see it all decked out in Christmas cheer. And I was in time for the Gingerbread House display. This year there were the most ever gingerbread houses - 70 - displayed throughout the house and museum (one other reason I didn't go last week, besides the dentist). I got there in time for the docent's tour (docents are always so knowledgeable and make any tour more informative) and just in time to see a bus load of small children leaving. Whew!

I was actually enjoying the tour so much that I forgot about taking photos. Imagine.

After the play, I headed back home. It is only a bit over 2 hours, and I thought I would take advantage of the night and stop off at Niagara Falls to see the Festival of Lights. So, after the border crossing, I bought myself a coffee and drove slowly along Falls Dr and admired the lights. I wondered where I could park, but mostly I just kept driving and enjoyed the view. We have our own Festival of Lights in my town, but these are way better - if mostly because they were so spread out that you could admire each moving illumination individually. It is virtually impossible to get an individual photo of the ones in our park as they are packed in so closely in a small space. Still, I didn't take any photos. I drove along past the illuminated falls, wondering at the wattage of the huge spotlights that reached so far. I drove past the spray that turned to a thin sheet of ice as it hit the car, on to the end of the five km tour of lights display. I got out to walk for a bit, drinking my coffee, then I thought, maybe I should get a shot of the falls all lit up to share with you. Coming back I would be on the side of the road closest to the falls. Since there was no traffic, I figured I could just stop on the road, so I drove along past the spray that added more ice to my windshield and found a spot that wasn't too far from the railing so I could get a better look.

It truly is a majestic sight, these Falls. No matter the season, or time of day. It is even better when there is absolutely no one else around. I reached into my pocket and held up my camera towards the first view and started to play with the settings.

Blink. Suddenly all went dark.
It was the stroke of midnight.
I had done my oohing and ahhing in the wrong order, it seems.
Day was done.

(click on the links for photos and reviews and info)

(I did take some photos, one of which is on my photoblog)

Monday AMuse

I saw this on someone's (sorry, I forget whose) blog last week and remembered that I had a copy bookmarked for my own enjoyment!

So, as a way of remembering our friends in New Zealand this week, I present this as a response to any other natural disasters.

today he flew

When I get home form work in the morning, one of the blogs I check out before all others is An Explorers View of Life. Barry has been an inspirational writer and never more than the past months as he chronicled his days living with cancer. Last February, dozens hundreds of his blogfriends from around the world joined in a ceremonial bell ringing to celebrate with him the end of his chemo treatment at Princess Margaret Hospital in Toronto. Since then, when I pass by my Swiss cow bell that hangs in the hall, I glance at it more frequently and I think of Barry, and the many other people I have known who have endured cancer.

Barry left us yesterday after several weeks in hospital. He wrote a final post, just days ago, where he says that "today I flew". It sounded ominous, yet hopeful that he really would "tell us more next week". I am sure he has found a new audience to tell his story. He had so many stories and it was a joy to have him share them with us.

We will miss you, Barry Fraser.

SundayStills - 'B'

I am not here this weekend.

off on a car trip to visit friends

where we hope to see lots of this

where we will partake of some of these

and perhaps imbibe some of this

with a visit to here

but not likely here

no matter what they want.

I'll be back to visit you all later.

This post was brought to you by the letter 'B'. See more at SundayStills

a Bell for Barry

There are some challenges we may have to face in life that are not pleasant.

They require an inner strength that we may not be aware we possess. They may also require the care and dedication of many strangers and loved ones.

They may cause us to explore our lives in ways we never dreamed possible.

Such is the case for many of us who have faced cancer head on or loved someone who has endured.

Barry Fraser of An Explorer’s View of Life has been writing of his journey in ways that have touched all of us who have followed him.

Today, at 2pm, he will leave Princess Margaret Hospital in Toronto. A bell in the lobby at the Chemo Day Care Centre is positioned at the exit doors to be rung as you leave after your final chemo treatment. The staff and visitors and inpatients will all pause. Then applause. Maybe cry.

There are many, many people who are joining in (with links on Barry’s blog for visiting) most of us who only know Barry and his wife Linda through their blogs who will ring our own bells, loudly and with wild abandon. For Barry, for ourselves, for our loved ones who have endured. For those who are still enduring.

You may feel the earth shiver.

Happy New Year, Dear Friends

To All, I Wish a Year Full

of Health, Happiness and Humour

where I get a little intoxicated

The day started out promising enough.
Lots of rain, severe winds, with thunder storms to come.
Such was the forecast.
(embiggen for full effect)

Sixty-seven minutes of idling here and I was off - directly into more rain, more wind, even darker skies. Oh yeah, this was not going to be a good hair day. But, at the end of my journey would be fellow blogger and night worker Mr Nighttime. My second blogmeet, his first. (I am his first!!)
We ate, we laughed, we listened to music, we shared stories. We didn't take photos of each others feet or backs or obscured reflections as proof of our meeting (though it was suggested). And we didn't discuss other bloggers (much), mostly because we don't share too many blogfriends - though that may change, as you will all want to read his version of events, won't you? Mr Nighttime generously drove me around some of the most scenic parts of Rochester, and I generously did not make him stop every 100 yards so I could take a picture of the most scenic buildings and views the city has to offer. We had an agenda. Mine was to see the lilacs and his was to let me see his theatre. A tour of his soon to be no more theatre, a chance to stand on stage and gaze out over an empty auditorium... an insiders' view, an actor's enthusiasm... what a treat.

Then the day turned more promising.

We both live in Wine Country and in cities reknowned for Lilac Festivals. So a little comparison was in order. I deliberately chose this, the only wet-windy-forecasted day of the week for my visit because of the Lilac Festival and it being Wine and Blues Day. And it did not disappoint. Though, would it be uncharitable to complain that the brilliant sunshine was a little too brilliant for photos? One of the disadvantages of a point-and-shoot. The wind however, swirled the scent of the heavenly lilacs to almost giddying porportions at times.

After sampling several of the wines on offer in the free wine tent, and sampling the heady aroma of the several (hundred) lilacs on offer in the free park, I have to say that Niagara wines are far superior to Finger Lakes wines, but the Highland Park Festival just may be superior to our Royal Botanical Gardens Lilac Festival.

Afterall, this is a city that even paints her streets purple in celebration of the lilac!

Meeting blog friends though, is incomparable.

where I can see evidence of my younger self

Whew. Found the commemorative magazine supplement. I was wrong about the size of the crowd photo at Dam Square, and am now not sure if Gerrit, our Dutch friend, was even there with us. He may just have known that we went. So, because Geewits asked...




















There we are - can you see me? In the bottom right ^ corner. I've long blonde hair, wearing what looks like an orangey jacket. There is a young, skinny, bearded man in a brown suede jacket looking up - that's Allen. Don't know who those other 1,996 people are.

I think, I remember

I thought about having a beer the other day. Not an unusual thought. Then I thought about what glass to put it in. That is more unusual, as I usually just grab whatever one is handy, depending on the beer. I have beer mugs, which I never use, and pint glasses which I use for dark ales. And I have smaller glasses for anything else.

This time, I thought I'd use my special little glass. It is a delicate Heineken 6oz and sits on the top shelf because I don't use it very often. Which means it needed a bit of cleaning before pouring the Hoegaarden into it. So, I washed it and with a teatowel in both hands, grasped the base with my left hand and proceeded to wipe the rim with my right hand. And immediately broke it. It shattered like a light potato chip.

I was proud of myself for not crying.
And for having that teatowel wrapped around my hand.

It did make me very sad, though. I have had that glass for 30 years. I know this because that is how long it's been since I lived in Holland, where I got it. The shattering of a 30 year old memento and then realizing how long it has been a memento has a way of making one reminisce and feel nostalgic. And wonder what the hell happened to that 20 year old's free spirit? It also made me sad, because, as I said, I rarely used it for fear of it breaking, which now seems a waste. I have another glass from my stay that has a picture of the newly crowned Queen Beatrix, from 30Apr 1980. I'm pretty sure I would have cried if that had broken. Not because I particularly like it, but for the memories it holds.

We were warned at the time of the Coronation, not to go into the city centre because of the crowds and the threats of riots. But, after watching on TV, we decided to head on in anyway and see how far we could safely get. And we saw no rioting, no teargas, none of the water cannons aimed at the protesters (and there were many, but not as many as the cheering people). We managed to get into the square in front of the palace and I remember one very happy older gentleman pushing us forward and explaining who all the people on the balcony waving at us were. It was my first sighting of any Queen and I got two in one day.

Later, a Dutch friend of ours came by with several copies of a popular magazine, Margriet, for us. He had been looking at the special edition and in particular the centre spread of the crowds of people in the square as the Royal Family waved from the balcony. And somehow, in that photo of thousands of people, he found us: two Canadians, one American, and himself.

My heart goes out to the Dutch people and the recent act of violence aimed at the Royal Family that killed and injured so many cheering bystanders. At least in 1980, you knew what the protesters were about; this will forever remain unexplained. Yet, will change everything.

A bit of spring cleaning this week.

Have been busy working so that I can enjoy the weekend.

Have yourselves a chocolate. On me.

tulip photo from Southern Living

where I make a plan

Right. So the other part of the story of the marathon on Sunday, the part you don't see in the photos, goes rather poorly. I couldn't find Sylvie in that silly looking running gear with the crowds at the finish line (we have only met in person once, but still email and talk on the phone since she temporarily gave up blogging [as Urban Animal]). But, I forgot to put her phone number into my cell phone, so instead of wasting more time, I thought I'd run home and get it. It was only 3 blocks. I used the time I needed to look up the number by catching my breath. Once the panting stopped and my heart rate returned to something a little less hectic, we connected and I sprinted back to our new meeting spot. I ever so gently steered her towards the nearest bench. My legs needed to sit. I can still feel a slight stitch in my side.

How sad is that?

Yesterday, I wandered over to the Y. Just to visit a friend, have a coffee, while I thought, again, about joining.

This morning, after work, I went inside.
Monthly payments will come off my credit card.
I had a 10 minute ride on the bike and a slightly shorter time on the treadmill.
I surveyed the other machines.
I wrote down the schedule of classes I want to take.
Yoga this afternoon.
Made a beeline to the steam room.

Now, I must rest.

Feel free to quiz me on my attendance record.

gratitude

On Sunday last, I came out of the grocery store to find a glorious full moon complete with halos and interesting clouds. And no camera. When I got home, I read that the next SundayStills challenge was to be ... the moon. I was so excited. Perfect, I thought. This will be easy (afterall, I work nights!) Wasn't to be. The moon barely even deigned to appear through the overcast sky. It didn't come to me, so I had nothing to offer on Sunday.

I didn't even have anything to offer on Saturday for the PhotoHunt challenge, the theme of which this week was: nautical. Perfect I thought, for HMCS Haida, the most decorated and successful battleship in Canadian history, is docked not far away. I could have made an effort, but I couldn't be arsed to get out find the energy to venture outside and look for it.

I was feeling a little down about my lack of energy. And my lack of enthusiasm.

I was tired of feeling lazy, but too tired and lazy to do anything about it.

Then, I read Delwyn's post and found she made me a postcard!

Violet has provided me with much joy through her variety of photographs allowing me to live vicariously in a stunningly different part of the world. She is warm and generous in her ongoing comments. I am glad I have met Violet.

You should see her other great hand crafted postcards, especially these ones.

She's over at A Hazy Moon and well worth the trip to her little part of the world.

So, today (Monday) I ventured outside. Into the throngs of people enjoying a holiday.

And took pictures.

But that is for tomorrow's post.

Emma

I have just learned of the sad passing of a good blog friend, Mad Asthmatic on the weekend. She was a loyal and cheerful commenter to my blog and I, and perhaps many others, had become concerned by the silence following her last post which was very aptly and poignantly titled 'No Regrets'.

Everyone who read her blog knew that her health was not good and was deteriorating. Emma expressed frustrations of the limitations of her disease, but she was also so full of hope and plans and dreams for her future, whatever lay ahead.

When I travelled to England last summer we made plans to meet, for a day trip, or later, when it appeared she would not be well enough for that, for tea. Unfortunately she was still in hospital during my stay and the visit didn't take place, much to both our disappointment.

Be at Peace, Emma.