All posts by Beth

One night in Rome, Italy

May 8, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

May 3, 2017

Our first evening in Rome! We left Canada at 12 noon, May 2nd and after hours and hours of planing, training, and automobiling, arrived in Rome at 11am on May 3rd. It was now 10 pm, and we were so very tired. But also, so very hungry. Michael Googled highly rated yet inexpensive food places nearby and one, Trattoria Pizzeria Vecchia Roma, caught our eye. We quickly found the place. When we walked in, we joined the crowd of people waiting… no… desperately hoping for a table. The restaurant was totally packed! With Italians! We knew we were in the right place. The man who appeared to be hosting came to the crowd on the stairs and said “only reservations!” Bummer! The crowd thinned, and almost everyone left, except for two women, who were taken by the host to their reserved table. Michael and I stood on the stairs, alone. A waiter looked over at us. He smiled and I smiled back. He motioned for us to come sit in his section. Life lesson: With a bit of persistence and some friendly eye contact, you really do just get what you want.

Our table was crammed between a huge table of ten, and a display case of various meats and cheeses. We ordered our €3.50 half litre of red wine (!) and settled in. Our waiter was wonderful! He brought us a few paper-thin slices of delicious prosciutto from the display case to try – for free! I love free food! We ordered two types of bruschetta – mushroom and olive – to share, a plate of gnocchi, and a plate of spaghetti puttanesca. Today, I learned that bruschetta does not necessarily mean tomatoes on toast. We ordered the mushroom and olive, thinking they would be mixed with tomatoes and garlic, like the bruschetta we are used to at home. In fact, our bruschetta was not what we were expecting. No tomatoes at all, just one with olive tapenade, and the other with a mushroom paste. Oh man, they were delicious! Ditto the pasta. The puttanesca was al dente, and super garlicky, and the gnocchi was cheesy and perfect.

Michael went to the washroom and our waiter came back to clear our plates. I thanked him profusely for his kind service and the prosciutto at the beginning of our meal. He said he was so happy we could join him this evening. I asked his name: Fabrizio. Of course it is. The most Italian name I can possibly imagine. Michael returned and Fabrizio brought us two tastes of limoncello- a lemony liquor made in Italy. Oh boy, it was strong!

It was late, and we were one of the few tables left in the restaurant. We thanked Fabrizio again. What a perfect first evening in Italy! We wandered back to our hotel and were instantly asleep.

Europe, Travel Stories

Celebrating King’s Day in Amsterdam

April 27, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

April, 2015

This morning I woke up with a spring in my step! It’s King’s day!! Koningsdag!! The biggest birthday party in the world!! I donned my orange feather boa and my orange feathery crown. We hit the streets and wandered through Haarlemmerstraat. It was packed to the brim! People (in orange) walked along the street shoulder to shoulder. Little stalls set up on the sidewalks with kids selling lemonade, parents selling old clothes, toys, and other various items. Music was playing around every corner, and not one face was frowning. It was wonderful!

We saw boat after boat filled with orange people. There was one boat in particular carrying only boys all wearing orange onesies, orange afro wigs, and orange sunglasses. They were quite a spectacle! We figured it was a good time to stop and have some lunch. We sat on the canal edge, with our feet dangling over, and ate our snacks. We watched the boats go by and laughed at the characters on each. One boat looked like a giant floating dance floor! One boat that went by set off a confetti cannon!! It was magical and wonderful! I think confetti cannons are up there among a few of my favourite things.

We found ourselves at the stage on Westerstraat and danced to the awesome music they played. We were dancing with two guys dressed in big, furry, orange onesies. I laughed at them. Over their shoulders, I could see a third and a fourth dressed in the same outfit. Then a fifth and sixth. Then a seventh. Sally said, “there are SO many of them wearing that onesie!” I laughed as I looked around at the sea of furry, orange men. I looked over at the buildings surrounding and there was one window in particular that made me smile. There were four older ladies dancing at the window and taking part in the fun! it was so fantastic to see them dancing along to the tunes, cheers’ing their drinks to each other, and looking like they were having such a good time.

We decided to call it a day and head home. We sat on my rooftop balcony for about an hour, directly in the sun. I could have fallen asleep right then. I think everyone could have. MY goodness I’m tired! And SO happy with my King’s Day. Happy Birthday, King!

Europe, Travel Stories

Cycling around Ven, Sweden

April 18, 2017 Beth 2 Comments

June 21, 2015

We arrived in Landskrona and took the bus to the ferry terminal. We sat outside on the sundeck, and shivered in the cool wind. I marvelled at the wind turbines, and my Swedish friends made fun of me. “Don’t you have those in Canada?” they asked. Yes, we do. But something about them is just so majestic! The ferry arrived in Ven! It is a small island in the middle of the Strait between Denmark and Sweden. We walked up the very steep hill towards the bike rental place. It was a hard place to miss because there were a lot of bikes parked out front. I would say about 700 and that doesn’t include the 300 tandem bicycles they had as well. We laughed that half the world’s tandem bicycles were parked on Ven. We collected our bikes are were off! The sun came out almost immediately after we began riding! It was perfect!

We cycled through field after field, past cliffs and sailboats. It was stunning. We found ourselves the perfect lunch spot outside the little church on a hill.

I went in the church and found a little pile of beads. Each colour represented something different. A little note invited me to choose a bead that represented what I needed the most, and at their next service, the congregation would include my prayer bead in their prayers. I chose blue. It represented tranquility, serenity, and trust. These are things I desire right now. I need tranquility and serenity, and to stop worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. I especially need to trust myself. We sat on the cliff’s edge and ate our sandwiches. Our lunch was cut short when a gaggle of geriatrics showed up on their walking tour.

We cycled down to the beach so we could have a swim in the freezing water. I did not swim, instead I took picture after picture after picture. This is one photogenic island! The flowers, the sun, the fields, the cliffs, the beaches. My goodness!

We biked back to the harbour and enjoyed a scoop of ice cream while we waited for the ferry. We originally grabbed seats inside, but very soon after we started our ride, I decided to go upstairs to the sundeck. I was prepared for it to be cold and windy, but it was not! The boat shielded me from the wind and the sun beat down hard. I closed my eyes and could have fallen asleep. But then I remembered I didn’t have sunscreen on! I quickly lathered my face with some SPF 30, closed my eyes, and did fall asleep.

Europe, Travel Stories

A Hygge Day in Copenhagen

April 11, 2017 Beth 2 Comments

June, 2015

We ran to the square where the tour was starting. We were running behind and I didn’t want to miss the tour! We arrived just in time and were placed in a group. There were around 50 people in our group. Phew! As we left the square, we walked past a statue of two Vikings wearing helmets, and holding a giant two horned trumpet. They say that when a virgin walks by the statue, the horn sounds! We all listened closely as we walked by, but it seems that this 50 people are all sexually active!

Our tour continued through the streets of Copenhagen, beautiful and colourful, even on this rainy day. We were taught a Danish word: Hygge. There isn’t a direct translation to English, but, it’s describes something that is cozy and wonderful and perfect. If something is hygge, it means it’s exactly as you want it to be.

After the tour, we visited Christiania. This place is cool. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of it before. It is a self-proclaimed autonomous neighbourhood of about 850 residents. I don’t know what that actually means, but apparently it’s not technically a part of Copenhagen? Anyways, it was a cool place. Signs welcoming you in read “you are now leaving the EU”. There were three rules in Christiania:

1. Have fun

2. No running- it causes a panic

3. No photos- the sale of marijuana is still illegal

This place is like paradise! Everybody was high and smiling, and there was nobody sitting on their phone, instagramming or tweeting. It was a very social place where everybody just seemed happy. I was happy to be there.

We finished our day at an outdoor concert along a canal. I can’t remember the name of the band, but they were incredible! They played a jazz, Baltic, fusion genre. They didn’t really fit into one genre. The accordion would have a solo followed by a rap solo by the guitarist. We danced and danced. As did the entire audience. It was such a fantastic show. One of the singers kept switching between singing, drumming, trombone, and doing gymnastics. “What can’t that guy do?” It was a perfect day in Copenhagen.

Asia, Travel Stories

Eating Mystery Lunch in Hanoi, Vietnam

March 31, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

I walked alone down a bustling street in the heart of Ha Noi. The sun was hot, the air was thick with humidity, and my skin was slick with sweat. I stuck to one side of the street, partly because it was in the shade, and partly because crossing the street here is scary! The road has three lanes, but with the scooters, cars, and trucks all squished together, a terrifying traffic wall forms. The only way to cross is to play a real life game of Frogger. Step one: begin walking slowly, making eye contact with scooters in your immediate path. Two: continue walking – don’t stop! Don’t forget to keep eye contact as the scooters and cars fly by. Step three: Ignore the laughter coming from the Vietnamese onlookers, it will only distract you. Step four: When you get to the other side, stop holding your breath, exhale.

I walked until the sweet smell of delicious food being cooked nearby stopped me. I walked in, and found myself to be the only non-local in the room. A man behind a counter looked at me. I smiled. He stared. I looked around. Everyone in the restaurant looked at me. I smiled. They stared. The man behind the counter motioned for me to sit down. I did.

I looked at a menu for only a moment before I realized it was all in Vietnamese only. It didn’t matter though, for the man from behind the counter brought me something. He placed a dish in front of me and smiled a big, toothy smile. I smiled back! There sat a beautiful fried egg, beef (I think), another kind of meat, something that resembled green onion (and very well could have been green onion), potatoes covered in brown sauce, and something else that was green. It sizzled away on the plate. It smelled divine. I began to eat. As I ate, I tried to decipher what the heck it was I was eating. I had no idea. All I know is that it tasted so good.

The couple sitting across from me stared. I tried to ignore the stares, but I couldn’t. I choose to believe they stared because they have never seen someone as beautiful as me. I looked at them and said, Hello! They both smiled and nodded. The man said, Hello. The woman giggled. She pointed at her chin and said something to me in Vietnamese. Confused, I touched my own chin. Oh! There was a huge smear of the brown sauce dribbling down my face. I laughed and the woman laughed with me. I thanked her for saving me from embarrassment. I finished my dish, said farewell to my lunch mates, and prepared myself for the next game of Frogger.

North America, Travel Stories

Drinking Fireball and Ice Fishing

March 23, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

In May 2012 I began a list of all the things I want to do and the places I want to see. Over the years I have been adding items to this list. Some people might call it a bucket list. I don’t like to call it that because bucket lists seem to be something people write when they have only a little bit of time left: they are sick, they are dying, they are worried about a zombie apocalypse, or an asteroid hitting Earth, etc. Mine is a to do list.

When my friend Chloe found out one of the items on my to do list was to go ice fishing, she called up a gaggle of fishing friends, and we headed out to a big ol’ frozen lake near Edmonton. We woke up at some godforsaken morning hour, and our convoy drove out of the city before the sun even came up. We arrived at the trout pond, and found a spot to park the cars near the water. Unfortunately, for Kurt and Ryan, the driveway to the parking lot was invisible in the snow and they missed it entirely, driving right into the ditch. All the boys got out of their cars, hitched the car to one of the trucks, and helped push it back onto the road.

We drove one of the trucks out onto the ice. I sat on the tailgate with Chloe and James. The ice auger was revved up, and the boys began drilling holes! I was handed a rod with a lure and a worm that was still wriggling even after being ripped in half and shoved onto a hook, and was told to drop it down the hole. I did and just like that, I was ice fishing! Ryan asked what was in my pocket. I pulled out the flask of Fireball I brought in the event I got cold sitting outside all day. We exchanged a high five, and each took a swig. It was 8:30 am.

I heard a commotion nearby and James, who was also ice fishing for the first time today, reeled in the first fish of the day! He was a happy man as he pulled that fish out of the water. The seal was broken, and all of a sudden fish were being pulled up steadily. Six beautiful rainbow trout were fooled this morning by our lures and wriggling worms. I caught none of them. All hope was not lost though, for when the biting slowed, we packed up our gear and, after pulling Kurt’s car out of the ditch for the second time, headed to the next lake.

The clouds disappeared when we arrived. The auger was out again, drilling holes through the ice to the water. I lowered my wriggling worm and lure into a hole, and set up my chair to face the sun. Then I fell asleep. I was so cozy all wrapped up in layers, the sun warmed my face, the Fireball buzz was at a nice sustained level, and not one fish nibbled my lure. I woke up when Ryan exclaimed: He caught something! He pulled up a fish from the depths. It wriggled and writhed, and even though he ended up throwing it back (it was too small to take home) we all cheered and high-fived. It was an exciting moment!

To be honest, I think ice fishing is kinda boring if you aren’t catching anything. That being said, drinking cinnamon whiskey in the sun on a bluebird day, with an amazing gang of buds, is an absolutely beautiful thing. I had the most splendid day out there on the ice, and what’s more, I was able to cross something off my to do list!

Europe, Travel Stories

A HUGE Pillow Fight in Amsterdam

March 14, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

We walked quickly across the city towards Dam Square. Amsterdam is a very bicycle friendly city, where bikes have the right of way. Pedestrians, on the other hand, are low on the priority list and you really risk life and limb navigating your way. We weaved in and out of the crowds of fellow pedestrians, dodged trams, cars, and bicycles, and finally found ourselves in the shadow of the National Monument. We and perhaps 1000 other people. Music radiated through the square, people were dressed in all kinds of costumes, chatting and laughing, and everyone, I mean everyone, had a pillow in hand.

The crowd enthusiastically counted backwards from ten. 10…9…8…People stretched their backs and arms, limbering up for the fight…7…6…5…grips tightened on pillow cases…4…3…2…1…GO! The fight began! Pillows were flying through the air, smacking people in the face and back. Before long, feathers had been freed from their cases, and were exploding into the sky. I almost drowned in down! People were stumbling out of the crowd, breathless, covered in feathers. Some had lost their pillow in the fight, others were lucky enough to still be holding on to, and flinging their downy weapon around. It was hilarious! The music was blaring, the sun was shining, and everyone was covered in feathers and laughing. And how could they not be laughing when the music is blaring, the sun is shining, they are covered in feathers, and they are in a pillow fight with 1000 other people, in the middle of Amsterdam?!

Europe, Travel Stories

Eating Escargot in Paris

March 10, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

June, 2013

This morning, my new friend Georgia suggested we go to Sacré Couer, the cathedral on the hill, in the sun, with a gorgeous view of Paris. Good idea! She deduced we could get off at the stop ‘Place de Clichy’ which she didn’t know how to pronounce, and so said, ‘Place de Thingy’. Off we went to the cathedral. We arrived at the correct station, and began our walk.

The cathedral came into sight and I was in awe. It is beautiful. We stopped at an ice cram stand nearby and bought a few scoops to enjoy on the hill. As we walked up the first steps, Georgia told me to hide my wrists. I was puzzled, but did as she said. We turned the corner and were accosted by vulturous men grabbing at our arms, trying to tie bracelets on our wrists, forcing us to buy them! I kept my head down and my arms crossed. I kept walking and ignoring him, and he finally left me alone. Phew. I checked Georgia’s wrists to ensure she had survived the trip too. Bracelet-less! Double phew! We found a spot halfway up the hill and set up camp. I ate my decadent Parisian ice cream and Georgia had a nap. I watched the people walking by, taking photos, holding hands, kissing, drinking beer, it was so lovely.

We were both quite hungry, and so grabbed a table on the patio of a cute little French bistro up the hill in Mont Marte. The waiters at this place were the flirtiest bunch I have ever encountered. We came to the conclusion that it is in their job description: clear plates, take orders, brush patron’s hair out of their eyes, constantly wink and smile. We ordered a carafe of Bordeaux.

Maybe it was the delicious red wine, maybe it was the flirtatious French men, maybe it was just the love in the air. Whatever it was, I was inspired to take the leap and try escargot! The little snails arrived to the table in a funny little dish, and they smelled amazing. You know what? I actually really liked it! How could I not? Anything doused and cooked in that much garlic and butter is going to be an instant hit with me. They tasted kind of like mussels. I was quite pleased with my French wine and my French dish and flirtatious French waiters. We finished our wine and paid the bill. As we left, the waiters grabbed at us, tried to pet our chins, touched our arms, kissed our hands. I was amazed, and totally uncomfortable. We walked past the cathedral and down the hill, guarding our wrists again from the bracelet vultures.

We found the metro stop and it was time to say goodbye to Georgia. One of the the most amazing things about traveling is how quickly you can make friends, and then as quickly as you connected, they are gone like the wind. I think it is such a magical thing to be able to share a beautiful day or two days, or week, or whatever, with someone, divulge all your dreams and hopes and fears, and then part ways. With a stranger is the safest place to keep a secret

Europe, Travel Stories

Taking Goat Selfies in the Amsterdam Forest

March 3, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

May, 2015

Sally and I went on a bike ride to the Amsterdam forest today! The ride there through the city was quick and once we entered the forest, super tall trees towered over the path and shaded us from the sun. Everything was so, incredibly green. It was stunning. We found a field by a lake and decided to camp out there. We put our picnic blanket in the shade of a nice tree, took off our shoes, and got out our books. The temperature was 25 degrees and there were no clouds in the sky, both rarities of Amsterdam in May.

We spent a few hours by the water, consistently distracted by the other people in the field. A group of teenagers sat nearby, smoking and looking cool. An old Dutch woman sat, topless, her saggy, yet remarkably firm breasts hanging out, next to where some children were playing a rousing game of football. An extremely handsome man came over to the water front and played fetch with his dog. The time got away from us.

When it was time to move on, we packed up our things and asked the handsome dog guy for directions to the goat farm. Yes. The goat farm. He had no idea where it was, so we went in the opposite direction of where he said it wasn’t… We biked through what Sally called, “carpets of flowers” which were beautiful, and a bunch of tall ass trees!!! We really didn’t know where we were headed until I saw a sign that said something about “geiten” and an arrow pointing down a path we hadn’t gone down yet. I pointed the direction of the sign’s arrow, and exclaimed “THAT WAY!” We cycled and Sally asked how I knew. I told her the sign said “geiten” which means goat in Dutch. How do I know that? From eating so much goat cheese.

We arrived at the goat farm and jumped right in. Literally. We climbed into the goat’s pen. Pen? Cage? Room? Anyways. There were tons of them. AND PIGS! They came over to us and nibbled on our clothes, backpacks, shoelaces, hair, really anything they could put into their mouths. Instead of being annoyed with the goats for doing this, we took the opportunity to take a million selfies with them. They came so close, and probably assumed we had food in our hands, when we held our phones out, they sniffed them. I have a million goat selfies. This is not a thing I am ashamed of. I think these are the best selfies I have ever taken. Hands. Down. Soon, the goats nibbling on our clothes, backpacks, shoelaces, hair, and really anything they could put into their mouths, DID become annoying, and it was time to leave. We went to the washroom to wash the shit off our shoes (and Sally’s pants), and scrub our hands.

North America, Travel Stories

Walking on the Ice at Abraham Lake

March 1, 2017 Beth Leave a comment

February, 2017

There I was, driving along highway 93, on my way to Abraham Lake, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a lynx! It was going for a casual walk along the side of the road. It was far too slippery, and there was a very big truck with a very big trailer following very close behind me, so I did not stop. Instead, I took a selfie so I can always remember how excited I was to see my first lynx.

I turned from highway 93 onto highway 11. I was still beaming from the lynx. As I drove, I looked out at the surrounding land— it is so beautiful here. Then, lo and behold, what catches my eye? Two lynx. I stopped and reversed back to where the two cats were by the side of the road. Holy moly! I rolled the window down, turned my music off, and just sat and watched them. They were playing. Their paws were so big, they were so furry, and I could have died. I went from seeing zero lynx in my life to seeing three lynx!

I arrived to Abraham Lake with a lynx-inspired smile on my face. Almost as soon as we checked in to the lodge, we wrapped ourselves up in our best frozen lake attire, and wandered down the hill towards the lake. The ice is so cool. Huge, broken slabs of glacier blue ice stretched along the shore. As we slipped and slid down the hill, we both regretted not wearing our traction aids. We reached the ice and slowly, ever so carefully, took a few steps out onto it. I was nervous at first, because I have seen enough internet videos of people falling through ice to know it’s funny to see, and not funny to be the one falling, but as we continued to walk, my confidence level began to rise.

Abraham Lake is unlike any other lake I’ve visited, and that is because of it’s frozen bubbles. Decaying plants on the lake bed release methane gas, and as the lake begins to freeze, these methane bubbles get trapped under the surface of the ice. Looking down through the surface one can see how thick the ice actually is— maybe three feet thick in some places! We came across our first bunch of bubbles! How cool! Wow, nature, you look good! Then, we heard a huge boom. Not a crack, more like a thumping. Twice. Thump thump. I gasped. We froze on the spot. Again, thump thump. The ice was shifting under our feet. No cracks, no movement we could feel, just huge, almost glacial shifting. The thumping sounded like a heartbeat, and you can bet your bottom dollar if I was high in that moment, I probably would have started to cry and gone on a rant about how mother nature is “like, totally alive”.

We continued to wander and slip around, gasping at how cool the bubbles were. No matter how many bunches we saw, it just did not get old. As we walked and chatted, we relaxed a bit. Perhaps our confidence level was too high? Perhaps we stopped walking so tentatively? I took a step, and the ice cracked under my feet. The ice cracked under Michael’s feet too. We stopped, dead in our tracks, unable to move. Holding our breath, we began to slowly shuffle backwards. We reached a spot where we could see the ice was super thick again, let out our breath, and got the F back to shore.