Postcard

Postcard from Summer Camp

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm writing to you here from my bunk here at Camp Amsterdam. The rain is steadily falling outside, and I've lost track of the days. Not because I'm having fun - I just mean the rain has caused day and night, weekend and weekday, to blend together into one summer-long washout of wetness and greyness.

Does that sound a tad melodramatic? Yes. And certainly with all the terrible news going on around the world this year, I have no real complaints and still keep things in perspective for the most part.

But back to the weather. Seriously. Dude. I didn't realize that a season could have social anxiety. The number of times that the mercury has crept up above 25 degrees and the sun has sustained its shine unimpeded for an entire day can be counted on one hand. Maybe just one finger, if you get my drift.

There was a weather warning issued yesterday, making it the sixth time this summer this has occurred. July's rainfall was the largest in over 100 years, and so far August is saying "Oh yeah July? Watch this."

Teasing sunshine and ominous clouds make for nice pictures but not nice picnics

Rain on the sunny patio. Best five minutes of the day.

9:30am August 26

A 20-minute downpour produced big flooding. Hopping off the bike and taking shelter is a regular occurence

Amsterdam is renowned for its summer festivals and big parties, which makes it even tougher to handle right now. August in particular is loaded with outdoor cultural events, movie nights, concerts, and performances in the park. Nothing beats a sunny day lounging in Vondelpark or sitting canalside watching the world go by. Aside from the heartiest party-goer however, most people have opted to stay in.

Speaking of hearty, most Dutch people I know are just as fed up as I am. There are a few - refusing to wear jackets or insisting on going ahead with a planned outing - who are fond of the local expression "C'mon, I'm not made of sugar, I won't melt." But these people are idiots.

It's not only me suffering. Across the city, bikinis sit idly in dark closets, waiting for their chance to bust out. All men, overflowing with the need to ogle, are forced to content themselves with surreptitious, doleful glances at bus stop ads for Axe body spray.

And how about the other casualties? There are cases and cases of 2-for-1 suntan lotion in bins everywhere; overstocked beer is going for 9Euros for a case of 24. Sugar-encrusted Slurpee machines are losing their ability to slurp. Fans of Ke$ha are barely getting slizzard.

So, as September approaches and the leaves begin to change already, I will put away my milky white legs for another 7 months until the real sunshine comes out in March. Till then, say hi to summer for me, enjoy a barbeque or two, and instead of food please send blankets and self-tanner.

Love,

J

Pluk de Nacht

Imagine, if you will, a warm, buttery evening of no wind, no rain, and an open-air film festival along the waterfront. You spread out a small blanket, crack open some wine, some bread and some cheese with a few friends, your neighbours on all sides doing the same, from a cozy but comfortable distance.

Then imagine that you are experiencing the ONLY warm-ish evening of an otherwise abysmal summer for weather, and a few thousand people are hoping to capitalize on the same welcome atmospheric aberration.

You would then be at Pluk de Nacht ("Pick the Night"?), an annual 10-night film festival that boasts free entry (unless you donate a small amount for one of the coveted beach chairs ahead of time) and a cool selection of critically-acclaimed films.

Ours was something featuring Philip Eatmore Often, the thickening thespian. Since he won Best Actor for Capote in 2005, I don't think he's been resting on his laurels - he's been eating them.

Too bad we never found out the name or heard one moment of the movie. Arriving 45 minutes before nightfall (about 10:15pm), the crowds were massive. A small patch of grass/sand with a partial view of the screen and being surrounded by a crowd that was too far removed to care enough to be quiet ensured that this movie was not going to be seen. Too bad - it looked pretty good.

The atmosphere was nice, and still it is a cool setting and concept. It just doesn't have enough space and the climate rarely co-operates. I'm finding out that there's a reason most of the Netherlands heads out on vacation in August.

As for the next time I'm feeling Plukky - lesson learned. On the one warm and dry night of August, I'll arrive extra early, reserve a beach chair close to the screen, and warm myself further with some vino and hopes for a better September.

Film-goers with no chance of hearing the film. Sorry, I can't explain the random door wedged into the ground.

Vedett is the beer of choice at the event

This was our (disad) vantage point

Some plucky youth tried to get the upper hand on a prime spot. They were booted off about 10 minutes later.

Hello

Still here, I promise. Just emerging from 3-4 weeks of rain and busyness. Posts coming this week...

Top 10 Amsterdam

We interrupt this Canadian vacation summary for a brief update on the top 10 (new) observations of Amsterdam:

1) Dutch kids need to be tased. Now, for those of you who are familiar with my earlier posts from over a year ago, you may recall my disdain for the way Dutch kids behave (or don't) in public. This has not abated.

It's not uncommon to see a mop-haired kid anywhere from 3 to 10 years old running full-tilt, screaming like a hyena in a grocery store, down a busy escalator, down the aisle of an airplane, in a coffee shop (the normal kind) or in an airport gate area. It's equally uncommon to see their parents make even half an effort to restrain them.

Mom is oblivious to the discomfort of the other people around, and Dad is inciting them to greater and greater heights of ecstatic annoyance by playing along. Actually, let's make it tasers all around, a family tasing.

2) Dutch weather in July is about as confusing as a hot transvestite. 15 minutes takes you from searing sunshine to the North Sea being dumped on one's head. Winter may bite in Canada, but summer is summer for the most part. Not so in Nederland.

3) The newest discovery: the Sky Lounge at Mint Hotel, steps from Centraal Station. The 11th floor restaurant/lounge/terrace has the best views of all of Amsterdam and some parts north of the city, all within a cool, loungey vibe.

4) Much is made of the supposed indifference and coldness of the locals, but in any given neighbourhood you're much more likely to say hello and have a chat with a person on the sidewalk than you are to get the brush-off. Even more so if you step outside the expat bubble and make an effort to speak a little Dutch.

5) Being a regular really counts. The other day I ordered my customary doner sandwich at Grillroom Sefa (bread on the side, extra veggies) and ran to the bank machine next door. I came back to have it already on my usual table by the window, hot and ready.

6) Incidentally, "by the window, hot and ready" is still what brings many tourists here. Despite the desire of the city officials to phase out the red light areas, a recent stroll through the area (yes, a stroll - one doesn't saunter, wander, or amble here) to show an innocent out-of-towner what it's all about (yes, she was slightly horrified) confirmed the truth: sex still sells.

7) Free outdoor film festivals

8) OK, so it's a top 7 for now. But 3 more things are sure to pop up soon...

Calgary and Banff

Calgary's Bow River and downtown at dusk

The first thing you think about when visiting Calgary - coming from Europe - is: where is everybody? Answer: in the 'burbs or in their cars.

The city is essentially the complete opposite of Amsterdam - spacious, car-filled, and with an empty downtown after 5pm. Living there, you get used to it of course and can enjoy the space immensely, with larger fields and playgrounds, more privacy in your own home (I could look out my old Amsterdam window anytime and see 3-5 people in their respective apartments; they, presumably, could also see me).

No longer living in Calgary, however, makes it a somewhat surreal experience when returning for a visit. There are literally streets and streets where you won't see a pedestrian or a bike.

The coziness and density of Amsterdam has an insulating effect, or a claustrophobic one, depending on your perspective. Calgary - isolating or freeing. It's a matter of taste.

Short on time (and photos - sorry) to visit Calgary's downtown, I did what every tourist does and made sure I headed to Banff, an hour's plus drive from the city. Here you'll see many people - make that tourists - strolling the streets and shops in the midst of some awesome mountains, before sitting down to an overpriced but tasty hamburger and then heading outside the town itself to the serene surrounding areas like Lake Minnewanka, pictured below.

More Vancouver

A few obvious things stood out as I crossed Canada after nearly two years abroad. One was the rampant consumerism that is part of North American life - you forget this, having simply grown up in it. There were a few moments where I was actually confused by all the choice and products before my eyes.

In Amsterdam, as in a Parisian market or Spanish supermercado, you might have a choice of say 3-4 kinds of peanut butter. Not so in Canada or the States, where your choice of 10 brands and 3 varieties of each brand is arrayed for your convenience.

I walked into a Shoppers Drug Mart in Vancouver, on the hunt for insoles. I was confronted with this:

Insoles galore

It took me about 10 minutes to decide to go with my final choice, most of which was spent weighing the benefits of gel, air pillos, sport models and barefoot (this one seems like a bit of a scam, when you think about it).

Barry Schwartz wrote a book on the over-choice-filled, over-consumption world that is much of the West, and how it actually reduces happiness: The Paradox of Choice, where he posits that some choice is much better than none, but too much is a recipe for misery.

If you don't have time to read the book, check out his TED talk. Actively limiting some choices and being content with what you have are great nuggets to take away from it. That is, if you choose to.

So one effect of being away for a while is being perfectly ok with just a couple kinds of peanut butter (the Fair Trade brand makes a beauty) and a basic insole, which is nice.

I'm not sure if Europe's reduced selection is due simply to space constraints or a concerted effort to simplify life. But it works.

Vancouver's Pointe Grey area

Incendio, a fantastic pizzeria and Italian restaurant with the best focaccia bread ever, located in Gastown

An all-book changing room, in the center of a clothing store in Gastown

Part of the seawall around Stanley Park

Vancouver is apparently a bit of a meat market

Vancouver

Just four days before we arrived in Vancouver, there was a riot that grabbed headlines around the world. Similar images were happening halfway around the world, except instead of the overthrow of a decades-long dictator in Syria, the catalyst for this was a hockey game.

The images were pretty shocking and painted a pretty ugly picture when juxtaposed with the kind of beauty that Vancouver offers.

Most people I know there downplayed the riots, and in most cases had to be coaxed into talking about them at all.

Indeed, walking around the city and the riot-stricken areas, it was pretty tame aside from boarded-up windows. People had come out in the thousands the day after the riots to reclaim the peaceful, friendly city that it is.

Post-riot graffitti

I got the impression it was more of a bad dream, whose images last a lot longer than anything that actually happened. Tough blow for Vancouver, but ultimately it was a real weird, ugly hiccup in an otherwise amazing city.

Kitsilano Beach

Canada

Ric

The past 3 weeks took me, as a tourist of sorts, back to the motherland. It was very interesting to view the country that was the only place I've lived (aside from a short stop in New Zealand 15 years ago) as a relative outsider, camera in hand and newly-formed Euro-goggles on eyes and brain. More on this in subsequent posts.

First off, what does it mean to go back home? It's a mixed bag, that's for sure. Kind of a cocktail of happiness, comfort, nostalgia and melancholy.

It's the place of so many personal triumphs and failures, which come back to you in equal measure depending on which street you turn down on a given day. Places and ghosts that were happily remembered or happily forgotten, until now. Each painful tweak is also offset by a great reunion with a close friend.

And things are different, no matter how much they appear to be unchanged. It hits you when parents are a little more wobbly, a little slower to move around. Nieces and nephews are way taller, a little less innocent, and you hope you haven't missed too much already.

Being there for only a few days or weeks made me appreciate everything more intensely.

I didn't realize two years ago that I'd be saying goodbye to a very good friend forever. He got very sick a year ago, and passed away in March. When I last saw Ric - one of the nicest guys ever and a tremendous dad and husband - we were on the golf course and he was perfectly fine.

To not see him ever again is unfair and still somewhat unbelievable. All the cliches are true - it's part of life, life is cruel, you never know... blah blah blah. It's simply not what you bargain for when you leave town, whether it's for a day or a couple of years.

Ric's passing helped in only one respect - I made sure that every goodbye this time around was fully absorbed and appreciated.

Issues

Hi All - and apologies for the delay in posting. Jet lag + suddenly wayward laptop = no posts for some time.

Fingers crossed for the laptop, I hope to have this rectified in the next few days.

Meanwhile, the new Guardian gig has begun.

Canadian Visit

Forget the royals' tour... updates coming soon from a swing through Montreal, Calgary and Vancouver (just missed the excitement/stupidity there).

Adieu Provence

Marseille

Via the magic of the internet, we'll combine Days 3 and 4 in the south of France. Largely because Day 3 was mostly uneventful, unless you consider Noah's Ark-esque rains in one of Europe's sunniest regions eventful.

A comfortable train ride from Avignon to Marseilles takes you through rolling hills and meadows and quaint small towns, as you can plainly see here:

Arriving in Marseille to a beautiful train station - modern on the inside, old-fashioned on the outside - some two hours later, you're greeted by a helpful information center and get pointed in the right direction to your hotel.

It's on the 15-minute walk to hotel that you get a sense that Marseilles (* you'll see various spellings, avec ou sans "s" - so we'll go with both here to appease both the s and non-s camps) has fallen on some tough times. It is one of the poorest large cities in France, and you can feel a bit of the edge when walking around, especially at night.

Still, it is France and that means there are some very nice-looking buildings, some great cafes and a bustling street market, mostly all centred around the Vieux Port. The trade-off: you lose Paris' polish for friendlier people in stores and restaurants in Marseille.

A meandering 30-minute uphill walk (you can also take the bus or a trolley from the Vieux Port) takes you to a stunning church called Notre Dame de la Garde, with a bona fida how-the-&%#*-did-they-do-that monument as it's crown jewel. It's a huge gold statue, weighing 9800 kilos and standing 11 meters high on top of a tower. It was erected in 1870. The entire site started as a small chapel in the 1200's.

The trolley from the Vieux Port to the church

Irrespective of your denomination, this is well worth the trip for the 360-degree views of the city and the ocean in addition to the impressive church.

Overall, Provence lives up to its sterling reputation. Oui, it can be a bit too touristy, but with any kind of patience and with an appreciation for the sights and tastes and smells, one can easily overlook the tourist hordes and be charmed a hundred times in just a few days.

Marseille train station

The view from the hotel room terrace

Le Vieux Port

Le hotel elevator

Notre Dame de la Garde

Below, views from the courtyard of the church and the interior

Parking, only 2 bucks! Cheap!