Observations
In my last update, I mentioned that I had more thoughts to write down, but since the post was getting quite long, I decided to wait for the new year to share them with you. I hope there is some, small, token anticipation, though not so much that you are disappointed with what I have to offer.
Anticipation is a tricky thing; it's often enjoyable because we can imagine a happy outcome, a reward, you might say, for our patience. Yet other times, it can be downright awful – I'm not talking about dreading something, not that kind of anticipation – I'm talking about anticipation that grows out of proportion to whatever it is you are waiting for, so that when the time finally arrives, you are buzzing with it, positively bursting, but the long-awaited reward turns out to be unsatisfactory and you are left feeling deflated and unhappy. One could argue of course, that it isn't the anticipation itself that is at fault, but the resulting negative emotion associated with unrequited desire, but I digress...
Observation: Canadians are everywhere. It's true. I meet one everytime I fly, and I'm not talking about flights to and from Canada, because that that would be too easy. On our last flight from Vegas to San Diego, I met an Acadian, who was living in Nevada because he was working there. Oddly, his destination was Conneticut – his flights were like a connect-the-dots puzzle because of holiday “mix-ups”. Poor guy. He was stoic about it though. Must the be Canadian in him...
We also met a Canadian family in the line up to a restaurant in Vegas. This of course is not that surprising, considering the fact that Vegas is a tourist destination, but I still found it to be a pleasant surprise. They were from Winnepeg I believe and were... c'mon, say it with me... “very nice and polite.”
I regularly bump into new people here in San Diego who are from Canada and just the other night, at a party of mostly unknown people, I met a fellow “Quebecer” who had come to San Diego to teach. My theory is that Canada will slowly but surely infiltrate the entire U.S.A, all the while being very quiet and polite about it, until eventually, large parts of this country (think blue states) will eventually come to realize they would rather be Canadian and politely cede, eh?
Or maybe not. It's just a theory.
We do get noticed however; it's our accent usually, but here's a new example: Phillip and I were eating at a deli in Vegas – one of those old-fashioned places that have black and white tiles everywhere, chequered tableclothes and pickled eggs in jars on the counter – I had ordered a lox plate and Phillip got the turkey dinner sandwich. There was an older couple sitting right beside us because the tables were those metal-edged pedestle affairs that can be pushed together for large parties but are otherwise separated by four inches of space for couples. My bagel and lox was huge: typical for American delis, and apparently my method of eating caught the attention of the gentleman, who asked us if we were European.
When we corrected him, he nodded, as if satisfied, and I couldn't resist asking why he thought we were from Europe. His answer: “You were eating with your knife and fork.” Well! I had no idea that the polite use of utensils was considered “foreign”. It's not like we've seen Americans on hands and knees, grubbing in their food with sauce-covered fingers, but perhaps because I found the bagel, cream cheese and lox too much to comfortably manage with my hands, I was identified an “non-native”. We got a good laugh out of that.
Another funny moment happened while Phillip and I were weaving our way through one of the many casinos that seem to grow like mushrooms in every available space of Las Vegas, including the underground walkways connecting the hotels. Of course, they are the main attraction in the lobby of every hotel, but in this case, we were on a lower level, looking for a box office, and quite lost. We were not alone in this predicament, for as we approached the the glowing promise of a directory map, we saw many other people with similar expressions of bewilderment etched upon their neon-lit faces. My favourite was a family that was circling the area like a herd of sheep when the mother suddenly exclaimed “Wait, I just got a whiff of fresh air! I think it's this way!”
One other, more disturbing thing we noticed on our visits to the classic tourists spots in Vegas is that the majority of people we saw there were obese. Some of them frighteningly so – often with obese children in tow. Considering the massive portions served in every popular restaurant we went to, and the tendency towards highly processed and fast foods available both at the drive through (a sad development in itself) and in our grocery stores,it's really not a surprise that North America as a whole is getting fatter every year. Living in Southern California, we have perhaps had less exposure to it; I believe California tends to be a “healthier” state than most, at least in appearance, so we were rather more aware of it in Vegas when suddenly everyone around us was three times our size. I won't quote statistics and sound-bites here, because I'm sure that most of you have heard them, but evidence to the reality of the situation can be seen in the fact that there are whole groups dedicated to studying the problem.
Something else that is prevalant everwhere we go: Starbucks. It's amazing! I have to admit, however, that we were grateful for the familiar symbol in one instance at least... It was our first morning in Vegas and we were both hungry, caffeine deprived and impatient with the endless lines at every hotel restaurant, so we left in search of a local breakfast place. After walking for a while, it became apparent to us why the concierge had looked at us strangely when we asked directions to the nearest bakery or pancake house. There's little else on the Strip except hotels, so we searched in vain for a while before finally ducking into another hotel, hoping for smaller crowds. Through the haze of smoke and flashing lights from hundreds of slot machines, we saw the white and green sign and, like castaways on a desert island hurrying towards a mirage, we pushed our way through the obstacle course of the casino floor and arrived gasping at our destination. I claimed the first empty table in the shop with a mixture of relief and resignation while Phillip stood in line - this one shorter than others we had seen. I had to fend off the various bids for the empty chair I was saving for Phillip and when he finally returned, I was informed that I should appreciate the mocha and muffin I was having because, in addition to the coffee and muffin Phillip had for his breakfast, we were out another twenty dollars. One would think that the sheer expense of their products would be a deterrent, but in the two-and-a-half years that we've lived here, we've discovered no less than three in our neighbourhood (walking distance) with an additional three within a five minute drive from us. Two of them opened in the last year. Still, I occasionally crave a grandé, non-fat, two-pump mocha, no whip cream, please.
If a cold beer is more to your liking, we spotted a sign during our travels at a local watering hole: “Happy Hour, 11am – 6am”. How's that for a tall drink? Wish I'd had my camera.
Speaking of which, Peter Lik is a photographer who had a gallery at the Venetian; here's a link to his site and a sample of his surrealist landscapes. The black-walled space they used to display his work highlighted the incredible light and colour in his images. I recommend a visit.
Well, that's all for this update. I know I rambled, but that's why I saved this stuff for last. It was a little bit of everything, all scraped together, so you'll forgive the ocassionaly dramatic turn of phrase, I hope, and drop us a line sometime.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Farewell, 2006!
As I begin to write, I realize that this will be my last post for 2006. Amazing how quickly the time passes. Come May, we will have been in San Diego for three years!
The last several weeks were relatively quiet, plus I did not feel prepared to relate to you any earlier than now the one small adventure I had, since it was neither thrilling nor fun. After several months of suffering very strange patterns of indigestion and taking far more Malox than I would like, I decided to look for a new GP, though our original practitioner had moved away and the group with whom he'd worked was no longer accepting our insurance. By the way, health insurance here is still a mystery to me and I fear that will always be the case.
Anyway, after going through a ridiculous rigmarole to actually find a doctor that was: 1)accepting new patients and, 2) would accept our particular insurance, I made an appointment, for which I was warned not to eat or drink anything after nine o'clock the night before. Perhaps I was spoiled by my last experience with the neuro-specialist, but this encounter was more like being a lab rat than a client deserving of health care. If any of you have ever had to undergo an “upper GI” exam, you have my deepest sympathies.
The ultrasound was not really that bad; cold, gooey gel on my belly and some minor prodding was quickly forgotten in the face of a starchy robe to wear over nothing but my birthday suit and socks, which was quite the fashion statement. More awkward was being made to wait in the little change closet in the hallway while people went wandering by! I couldn't close the door for fear the doctor would lose track of me, but there was a lot of tugging of the robe going on while I tried to read a book with the casual air of someone who often sits half-naked in a closet.
I was eventually led to a very chilly exam room which was dominated by a huge x-ray machine that looked like it was new in the sixties, and there I sat to waited some more until a lab technician came and mixed some “potions” as he so wittily called them. The doctor, who breezed in like a cold wind, barely said two words to me; this procedure was obviously done about a hundred times per day and they had it down to a bleak science. After stepping onto the platform and being blocked in by the metal film chamber, I was told to drink down something like Alka-Seltzer to the power of ten, immediately followed by chalky white barium.
Oh my f*cking god! I was warned that I “may have the urge to burp”, but that doesn't come close to describing the eruptions that emanated from me at an alarming rate and ferocity. I soon had barium all over my chin and hands as I tried desperately to quell the embarrassing variety of responses to these “potions”. The doctor looked disappointed with me and cruelly order another round of the gassy shot, which I wisely drank with smaller sips this time (I'd thrown back the first like a shot of tequila) and managed to hold it down long enough for the doc to get her x-rays of my esophagus.
Next, the platform was tilted to become horizontal and I was told to “roll like a log” for the barium to coat my stomach; while more pictures were taken of my insides. My flopping about and the pictures continued at a rather manic pace until I was made to sip more barium through a straw while lying on my stomach so they could observe my swallowing function or some such thing. During this whole episode, incessant burps were struggling out through my mouth and nose and I swear, one came out my ears.
When it was over, I was told to wait in the exam room (which was no warmer) and allowed to wash my hands and face before being let go. Burping all the way home, I had the sinking feeling that my ordeal would prove fruitless, and I was proved correct. Apparently there is no evident cause for my stomach pains. I've only suffered one bout of indigestion since then (as if my body is afraid of going through the ordeal again) and I'm thinking Malox will always be a staple in our medicine cabinet.
December was heralded in with the usual premature Christmas jingles in every store, though we were happily spared for the most part, since we did no shopping this year, except for a few cards and one or two gifts for each other. Despite this god-send, I missed the fun of gift-buying for the family. Next year, next year, I say! And thank you all very much for the gifts we received in the mail. They arrived whole and undamaged and were enjoyed and appreciated.
As many of you already know, our plans for Christmas this year were unconventional - four days and nights in Vegas! We began spoiling ourselves almost immediately when we realized we would have at least a three hour wait in Los Angeles. We paid the twenty-five dollar fee to take advantage of Delta's business-class lounge where we had free drinks and snacks and wireless access. It turned out to be a wise choice as we had arrived early and our connecting flight arrived two hours late.
We checked into the Paris Las Vegas hotel, which has a huge Eiffel Tower built into its entrance facade and is happily across from the Bellagio, which is famous for its musical fountain and light show. Check out Phillip's Picassa album for our Vegas shots. The interior, aside from the massive, in-your-face casino floor, has a concave ceiling painted to look like a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds and ambient light that is at the perfect comfort level of pseudo-dusk or early morning. No nasty sun to make you squint while you gamble. There is a constant breeze coming from the vents, cleverly disguised in the leafy canopies of the fake trees scattered about and once you pass the slot machines and card tables, you can follow the quaint cobbled streets that take you along the shop fronts and restaurants throughout the “property”.
These hotels really are the next generation of accommodation; they are referred to as “properties” because they really are like an acreage, encompassing everything a body could possibly want to find in a quaint Parisian (or Venetian, or Roman, or Tropical, etc) village. There are many little shops catering to everything from commercial, mass-produced souvenir trinkets to high-end jewelery stores and exclusive designer fashions. There are also several restaurants, from all-you-can eat delis to typical American-style eateries – we visited the St. Louis on our first night due to fatigue and hunger and were sadly disappointed with the very bland, standard American fare. This was later rectified by a visit to the most exclusive Eiffel Tower Restaurant, requiring a reservation, the correct attire and a “laissez-faire” attitude about having your wallet yanked out through your nose.
We treated ourselves to this expensive meal on the last night because I'd heard the chef “upstairs” was fabulous. As it turns out, we were both delighted with the champagne aperitif, the baked Camembert starter and the wonderful Napa Valley Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc (2005) recommended my our charming, tuxedoed – and Russian! waiter. My vegetarian main was beautiful, if a little boring in flavour, but I found Phillip's organic chicken dish very subtle and delicious. My chocolate hazelnut desert with espresso was wonderful, but the whole experience reminded me that French food is very rich, often hearty, and not terribly interested in vegetarian expression.
Paris Las Vegas was not our favourite hotel in the end, mostly due to the over-abundance of cigarette smoke. After walking our feet off for nearly the entire length of The Strip, and visiting nearly every major hotel, we decided that New York -New York , Mandalay Bay and The Venetian took the cake for overall, cohesive themes, functional layouts and appealing offerings for the jaded consumer.
The shows were our main reason for visiting Vegas and we are happy to report that they were all fabulous! The first, Zumanity, at New York-New York, was a sensual celebration of human sexuality and eroticism and was done very tastefully, with a good dash of humour on the side. The point regarding variety in human pleasure was well made and the result was a very enjoyable spectacle.
The second show was a Beatles-themed affair titled “Love” that made me question whether Cirque de Soleil's creative juices were finally drying up, but nay, my doubting mind was quickly put at ease in the amazing theatre-in-the round, which made brilliant use of huge scrims; these curtains are ingenious theatre devices woven in such a way as to be made opaque, semi-transparent or invisible with the use of different lighting angles. Initially used to divide the auditorium into four sections, they seemed odd, but they were pulled back at the start of the show and brought out later to good effect. The whole show naturally used Beatles music, which heightened the nostalgic feeling of joy and hope as half the audience sang along (myself included) and acrobats cavorted in hippy costumes reminiscent of the era of peace and love and the anti-war movement of the sixties. Very very well done – our favourite show as it turns out.
The final show we saw was not by Cirque de Soleil, though definitely inspired by them. It was also in a round, domed theatre, but the stage was a huge, circular pool with multiple levels that could be raised and lowered for amazing variety. The performers wore a variety of costumes, from sea-dragons to ballerinas and synchronized swimmers of the 50's. It was a visual treat and what I found particularly interesting was the choice of white-only performers, all the males having been made to shave their heads bald and most of the women wearing skullcaps to give them a fifties-style wavy coif. Overall, these choices contributed to the highly styalized light, water and steam effects, which were very impressive. We did have one minor critique of the show, however; unlike Cirque, who use simultaneous groups of performers on-stage for transitions, this show didn't quite manage to hold the attention where it was supposed to be. We both found ourselves easily distracted by minor performances that pulled focus from the main attraction for too long or too often. Still, we had a wonderful time and hope to return for more shows sometime in the future.
We came home this week, replete with entertainment and have quite enjoyed sleeping in, lazing about the house, playing our favourite online game together and eating out whenever the mood strikes us (which has been frequently). Phillip has a bit of cold – probably as a result of the incredibly dry environment of Nevada, but we are both otherwise very healthy and content. We have some great memories of a very unusual Christmas holiday and hope that the New Year holds as much promise. I have more to share in the way of “observations” and anecdotes, but I will save them for our next post, which should also include a report of our New Year's Eve activities, which I promis for mid-January at the latest. Here's wishing you all happy, healthy and safe holidays.
K & P
As I begin to write, I realize that this will be my last post for 2006. Amazing how quickly the time passes. Come May, we will have been in San Diego for three years!
The last several weeks were relatively quiet, plus I did not feel prepared to relate to you any earlier than now the one small adventure I had, since it was neither thrilling nor fun. After several months of suffering very strange patterns of indigestion and taking far more Malox than I would like, I decided to look for a new GP, though our original practitioner had moved away and the group with whom he'd worked was no longer accepting our insurance. By the way, health insurance here is still a mystery to me and I fear that will always be the case.
Anyway, after going through a ridiculous rigmarole to actually find a doctor that was: 1)accepting new patients and, 2) would accept our particular insurance, I made an appointment, for which I was warned not to eat or drink anything after nine o'clock the night before. Perhaps I was spoiled by my last experience with the neuro-specialist, but this encounter was more like being a lab rat than a client deserving of health care. If any of you have ever had to undergo an “upper GI” exam, you have my deepest sympathies.
The ultrasound was not really that bad; cold, gooey gel on my belly and some minor prodding was quickly forgotten in the face of a starchy robe to wear over nothing but my birthday suit and socks, which was quite the fashion statement. More awkward was being made to wait in the little change closet in the hallway while people went wandering by! I couldn't close the door for fear the doctor would lose track of me, but there was a lot of tugging of the robe going on while I tried to read a book with the casual air of someone who often sits half-naked in a closet.
I was eventually led to a very chilly exam room which was dominated by a huge x-ray machine that looked like it was new in the sixties, and there I sat to waited some more until a lab technician came and mixed some “potions” as he so wittily called them. The doctor, who breezed in like a cold wind, barely said two words to me; this procedure was obviously done about a hundred times per day and they had it down to a bleak science. After stepping onto the platform and being blocked in by the metal film chamber, I was told to drink down something like Alka-Seltzer to the power of ten, immediately followed by chalky white barium.
Oh my f*cking god! I was warned that I “may have the urge to burp”, but that doesn't come close to describing the eruptions that emanated from me at an alarming rate and ferocity. I soon had barium all over my chin and hands as I tried desperately to quell the embarrassing variety of responses to these “potions”. The doctor looked disappointed with me and cruelly order another round of the gassy shot, which I wisely drank with smaller sips this time (I'd thrown back the first like a shot of tequila) and managed to hold it down long enough for the doc to get her x-rays of my esophagus.
Next, the platform was tilted to become horizontal and I was told to “roll like a log” for the barium to coat my stomach; while more pictures were taken of my insides. My flopping about and the pictures continued at a rather manic pace until I was made to sip more barium through a straw while lying on my stomach so they could observe my swallowing function or some such thing. During this whole episode, incessant burps were struggling out through my mouth and nose and I swear, one came out my ears.
When it was over, I was told to wait in the exam room (which was no warmer) and allowed to wash my hands and face before being let go. Burping all the way home, I had the sinking feeling that my ordeal would prove fruitless, and I was proved correct. Apparently there is no evident cause for my stomach pains. I've only suffered one bout of indigestion since then (as if my body is afraid of going through the ordeal again) and I'm thinking Malox will always be a staple in our medicine cabinet.
December was heralded in with the usual premature Christmas jingles in every store, though we were happily spared for the most part, since we did no shopping this year, except for a few cards and one or two gifts for each other. Despite this god-send, I missed the fun of gift-buying for the family. Next year, next year, I say! And thank you all very much for the gifts we received in the mail. They arrived whole and undamaged and were enjoyed and appreciated.
As many of you already know, our plans for Christmas this year were unconventional - four days and nights in Vegas! We began spoiling ourselves almost immediately when we realized we would have at least a three hour wait in Los Angeles. We paid the twenty-five dollar fee to take advantage of Delta's business-class lounge where we had free drinks and snacks and wireless access. It turned out to be a wise choice as we had arrived early and our connecting flight arrived two hours late.
We checked into the Paris Las Vegas hotel, which has a huge Eiffel Tower built into its entrance facade and is happily across from the Bellagio, which is famous for its musical fountain and light show. Check out Phillip's Picassa album for our Vegas shots. The interior, aside from the massive, in-your-face casino floor, has a concave ceiling painted to look like a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds and ambient light that is at the perfect comfort level of pseudo-dusk or early morning. No nasty sun to make you squint while you gamble. There is a constant breeze coming from the vents, cleverly disguised in the leafy canopies of the fake trees scattered about and once you pass the slot machines and card tables, you can follow the quaint cobbled streets that take you along the shop fronts and restaurants throughout the “property”.
These hotels really are the next generation of accommodation; they are referred to as “properties” because they really are like an acreage, encompassing everything a body could possibly want to find in a quaint Parisian (or Venetian, or Roman, or Tropical, etc) village. There are many little shops catering to everything from commercial, mass-produced souvenir trinkets to high-end jewelery stores and exclusive designer fashions. There are also several restaurants, from all-you-can eat delis to typical American-style eateries – we visited the St. Louis on our first night due to fatigue and hunger and were sadly disappointed with the very bland, standard American fare. This was later rectified by a visit to the most exclusive Eiffel Tower Restaurant, requiring a reservation, the correct attire and a “laissez-faire” attitude about having your wallet yanked out through your nose.
We treated ourselves to this expensive meal on the last night because I'd heard the chef “upstairs” was fabulous. As it turns out, we were both delighted with the champagne aperitif, the baked Camembert starter and the wonderful Napa Valley Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc (2005) recommended my our charming, tuxedoed – and Russian! waiter. My vegetarian main was beautiful, if a little boring in flavour, but I found Phillip's organic chicken dish very subtle and delicious. My chocolate hazelnut desert with espresso was wonderful, but the whole experience reminded me that French food is very rich, often hearty, and not terribly interested in vegetarian expression.
Paris Las Vegas was not our favourite hotel in the end, mostly due to the over-abundance of cigarette smoke. After walking our feet off for nearly the entire length of The Strip, and visiting nearly every major hotel, we decided that New York -New York , Mandalay Bay and The Venetian took the cake for overall, cohesive themes, functional layouts and appealing offerings for the jaded consumer.
The shows were our main reason for visiting Vegas and we are happy to report that they were all fabulous! The first, Zumanity, at New York-New York, was a sensual celebration of human sexuality and eroticism and was done very tastefully, with a good dash of humour on the side. The point regarding variety in human pleasure was well made and the result was a very enjoyable spectacle.
The second show was a Beatles-themed affair titled “Love” that made me question whether Cirque de Soleil's creative juices were finally drying up, but nay, my doubting mind was quickly put at ease in the amazing theatre-in-the round, which made brilliant use of huge scrims; these curtains are ingenious theatre devices woven in such a way as to be made opaque, semi-transparent or invisible with the use of different lighting angles. Initially used to divide the auditorium into four sections, they seemed odd, but they were pulled back at the start of the show and brought out later to good effect. The whole show naturally used Beatles music, which heightened the nostalgic feeling of joy and hope as half the audience sang along (myself included) and acrobats cavorted in hippy costumes reminiscent of the era of peace and love and the anti-war movement of the sixties. Very very well done – our favourite show as it turns out.
The final show we saw was not by Cirque de Soleil, though definitely inspired by them. It was also in a round, domed theatre, but the stage was a huge, circular pool with multiple levels that could be raised and lowered for amazing variety. The performers wore a variety of costumes, from sea-dragons to ballerinas and synchronized swimmers of the 50's. It was a visual treat and what I found particularly interesting was the choice of white-only performers, all the males having been made to shave their heads bald and most of the women wearing skullcaps to give them a fifties-style wavy coif. Overall, these choices contributed to the highly styalized light, water and steam effects, which were very impressive. We did have one minor critique of the show, however; unlike Cirque, who use simultaneous groups of performers on-stage for transitions, this show didn't quite manage to hold the attention where it was supposed to be. We both found ourselves easily distracted by minor performances that pulled focus from the main attraction for too long or too often. Still, we had a wonderful time and hope to return for more shows sometime in the future.
We came home this week, replete with entertainment and have quite enjoyed sleeping in, lazing about the house, playing our favourite online game together and eating out whenever the mood strikes us (which has been frequently). Phillip has a bit of cold – probably as a result of the incredibly dry environment of Nevada, but we are both otherwise very healthy and content. We have some great memories of a very unusual Christmas holiday and hope that the New Year holds as much promise. I have more to share in the way of “observations” and anecdotes, but I will save them for our next post, which should also include a report of our New Year's Eve activities, which I promis for mid-January at the latest. Here's wishing you all happy, healthy and safe holidays.
K & P
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