Is it possible to love Scotland more fiercely than before?

Yes.  It is.

"Turns out I don't hate whisky, I just hate bad whisky." - Kathleen

Woke up in Inverness, with our Bride of Frankenstein room mate throwing shade at our itinerary for the day.  Apparently Culloden Battlefield and Glenfiddich Distillery aren't legitimate destinations, and we should be trekking off to climb a hill in search of a majestic tree like she was.  Silly hippies.

Culloden - MacKintosh marker

After checking out of our lovely hostel, we took off for Culloden (pronunciation "Cull-awe-den", not "Coll-o-den").  Quite literally, it is a field outside Inverness with a lonely cairn of stones and red and blue flags.  It is here that Bonnie Prince Charlie (or The Young Pretender) and his Jacobite army fought the English, led by the Duke of Cumberland--this battle and its bloody end signaled the final end to the Stuart claim to the throne.  Sad times for Charlie.  And my MacKintosh clan, who were the first to charge the British troops.  They broke through the first two flanks, then found themselves surrounded.  Almost all of the warriors were killed.  At the site, there are two stone markers for the MacKintosh clan--hopefully to recognize that they basically met the same tragic end as that scene in Braveheart where the first two flanks charge the British and are massacred.  That was the MacKintoshes.  Pretty sure the Highland Clearances that occurred directly after this are the reason we ended up in Canada.

Sidenote - this is the MacKintosh clan motto.  I like it.  The motto's meaning is "touch not the cat when it is without a glove." The glove of the wildcat is the soft, under part of his paw, and when assuming a war-like attitude, the paw is spread or ungloved revealing very dangerous claws. The motto is a warning to those who would be so imprudent as to engage in battle when the claw of the wildcat is ungloved.  Don't mess with the MacKintoshes (My interpretation is slightly different.  Seems to me that this motto is closer to "don't fondle the robot pussy thout a 'glove'".  So, y'know, I guess it's all a matter of how you look at it.  For example, my interpretation is correct, and C's is wrong.  So if you look at it wrongly, you will draw C's conclusions.  Amazing thing, logic).



Culloden is an amazing area, and the museum is one of the best curated I have ever visited.  I totally loved it but feel bad for the dudes who had to fight there--it was cold as ice in late May, so I can't imagine how awful it would have been for them.  That, and they were exhausted from a failed all-night attempt to trek to the English in a surprise attack.  Poor war planning, Charlie.


After Culloden, we travelled to Dufftown for a Pioneer Glenfiddich Distillery tour.  We stopped at a random restaurant and everyone had a bowl of delicious Cock-a-leekie soup.  Amy had never experienced this soup and asked the chef what was in it.  "Cock and leek", he replied.  After an awkward 15 second pause, the server clarified "chicken, and leek." Ahhh.  Light on.  The little restaurant was great, and the chef also had some gem Camilla cracks for us ("Why would anyone trade anything in for her, ever?")  After our delicious soup, we were off for Glenfiddich!


We had scheduled ourselves onto the exclusive Pioneer tour of the Glenfiddich Distillery--it costs 50 pounds, but you get a special guided tour and, importantly, you get to bottle your own wee bottle of whisky from one of four casks which will never be on public sale.  Oooooh.


We checked into our tour with a lovely Swede who had already done four or five other distilleries.  One of them that morning.  He was an old pro.  Clearly, this could go south since only one of us really liked whisky and none of us knew a damn thing about it.  We sat down in the coffee shop for our complimentary non-alcoholic beverage and biscuit (I am still kicking myself for missing that chocolate cupcake).  We awaited our tour guide Brian who had been "called away".  While we thought this a strange description of Brian's location, particularly when the lady stated she didn't know when he would be back and we should just wait...we accepted it.  Because we had free foodstuffs.



Luckily, Brian appeared shortly thereafter.  I was initially afraid that Brian had consumed a bit too much of the Kool-Aid, since he gushed about how awesome the CEO of the company is, but it soon became apparent that Bri-bri is as cool as they come.  I confessed that I actually have a hate/hate relationship with straight whisky (or whiskey as us Canadians, incorrectly, spell it).  Brian's brow raised and he appeared slightly dismayed, but he promised that he wouldn't try to make me like something I don't like.  Sort of the anti-Hitler of whisky.

I won't bore you with the details of the tour (actually, it was really quite fascinating, but we learned so much that I am about 100x too lazy to type it all out...much like I was too lazy to type out '100 times').  Let me just say that I highly recommend the tour - well worth the money (and not just for the free booze!).  It's actually genuinely fascinating and you get a really in-depth view of how whisky is made (oh yeah, and the free booze.  You also get free booze).  It's a multi-pronged process, with very little waste (although there is waste...I can't remember what the actual stuff is called, but Brian described its taste as "marmite-esque" and "unpleasant".  I described it as "gross".  Brian, of course, corrected me - real British gentlemen and ladies do not say "gross", they say "unpleasant".  I, always the cunning linguist (*snerk*), informed Brian that, in Canada, we pronounce it "gross".  He was amused by our colonial ways.)  If I had to pick a favourite part, it was definitely when we got to go into one of the storehouses and look at this, like, airplane hangar filled with casks (NOT barrels, as Brian pointed out) of whisky.  Super keen!  This was also the venue for my personal favourite line of the day, from Brian: "Alright now, just put your nose in the bunghole and give it a sniff".  The bunghole is the name of the little hole at the top of a cask of whisky, into which is put a piece of burlap that can be removed.  Actually, the government hates when purveyors of whisky have removable plugs for their bungholes (bahahahahaha), as it makes it difficult to determine how much tax they pay, or something.  C understood that part better than me, frankly.  I was too busy laughing at "bunghole".

Once the actual tour part was over, we made our way to the whisky tasting portion of the evening.  On the way there, C, always a smartass, made some pithy comment about something or other, to which Brian turned right, and informed her that she could "turn left".  I added "and go straight to hell".  It is my way, and it was accurate and I stand by it.  This prompted our Swedish friend to recount a rather humourous (and thankfully short) story (literally, this story is like one line long).  He once commented to his friend that they were marching straight into hell, to which his friend replied "no, we are skipping gaily forward".  There's a real lesson there about outlook on life, but I'm giggling at the mental image of gaily skipping into hell.  So, you know, draw your own conclusions or whatever.

Now, where was I?  Ah yes, whisky tasting.  Brian took us into this lovely suite in the upstairs offices of the distillery, where we each had six glasses of whisky waiting for us.  The whole thing was delightfully posh (I am trying to think of a Spice Girls joke to go in here, but I've really got nothing.  Perhaps you can all make up your own and insert it.  Self-service comedy!).  I schooled Brian on whisky-face (it's much like lemon face) and he schooled me on the addition of water to whisky.  Apparently, when I pour a litre of water into my Crown Royal, I'm creating an odious swamp water, undrinkable by man.  However, when you put but a few drops in there, it opens up the flavour or something (re: it makes it taste less like you're drinking sweetened lighter fluid).  In the end, I discovered that I like 15- and 18-year-old Glenfiddich whisky, but not the 30-year-old hella expensive stuff.  Which is a nice change from my normal spending habits.  I downed 4 of my 6 glasses (look, I might not have liked 30-year-old whisky, but it was expensive, and those of you that know me well know that I cannot waste expensive things, just on principle).  I was a happy camper.  C, unfortunately, couldn't have too much, as she had to drive, and Amy later regretted not finishing more delicious whisky).  We took another picture of me jumping in front of something, and moved along.

Our destination was Bruce and Kate's flat in Perth, which is about a two-hour drive from Dufftown (not a Simpsons-based theme town, I discovered.  Who knew?).  Nothing really to report about the drive, other than it was literally like riding a rollercoaster.  roads in the Scottish highlands are basically like one big game of Chutes and Ladders, but without the Ladders.  There were more S-curves on these roads than...than...well, I can't think of a good analogy, but there were a fuckload of them.  It was making Amy dizzy in the backseat!  A deer ran across the road and we saw a craptonne of sheep, but there weren't many other things to see.  Oh, and I should mention that it was windy as hell.  Like, knocking over cellphone towers windy.  I guess them's the hazards of going through mountains.  We survived and are better people for it (Ed. note: this is a lie).

We pulled into our hotel just as Bruce and Kate were walking up to the restaurant (located in the hotel, conveniently).  Excellent timing on our part (although we were slightly late due to the aforementioned "roads", or "cow paths", as C prefers to call them).  Bruce and Kate are always fun (you may remember our time with them from our last trip, when we made an unscheduled "drinking stop" at their flat).  And the Tayside Hotel has some delicious freakin' food.  I had the haggis and the steak pie, because I like to theme-eat for whatever location we are in at the time.  Fabu.  We had a few drinks there, then retired to Bruce and Kate's. On the way, I asked the question that had been at the forefront of both my mind and C's mind for the past few days: why are some of the license plates in the UK white and some yellow?  Kate looked at us for a good 30 seconds, then burst into guffaws (Scottish people guffaw.  Fact.).  She then told us that, in the UK, the front license plate of a car is yellow and the back one is white, and, more importantly, how did we not discover this during the FIVE previous days we had been driving?  C and I felt like right idiots (I didn't feel like an idiot, because I didn't notice. -C), but we got a good laugh out of it.  When we arrived, we were regaled with some great stories, many of which are unprintable on this family blog.  What? Oh for God's sake.  Fine, I'll give you one.  Vultures.  Bruce and Kate are not fans of cell phones.  In fact, Bruce is of the firm belief that the cell phone is the worst invention of all time (I would contend the atom bomb, but to each his own).  Anyway, they were driving along the other day and some dude walked into the center of the street while typing away on his cell phone.  He stayed there for a good minute, typing away, oblivious to the car full of angry Scots waiting for him to move along.  Finally he did, but not before Kate declared him a "right dick'ead".  Amazing.  Kate's always great for an awesome turn of phrase or two - this trip, she gave us "bent as a two bob note", referring to a pair of homosexual gentlemen she and Bruce are acquainted with (oops, dangling preposition...whatever, you'll all just have to live with it.  I'm getting tired).  I would type up an explanation of what a "bob" is, but that's C's job.

So, all in all, I would say that our day was filled with win (and drinks).  And there's still one more day in Perth!  Calloo callay!  Oh frabjus day!  Here's hoping our luck holds, because this trip has been #winning so far.

Nanoo nanoo,
KDu

"What whisky will not cure, there is no cure for." - Irish Proverb

50 Years Old -- 10,000 pounds/bottle.  Kept under lock and key.

££

The torch be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die...

Isle of Skye

We awoke this morning at a wonderful B&B in Kyle on the Isle of Skye in Scotland.  Skye is renowned for its beauty and world class hiking opportunities--alas, we didn't have enough time to partake (or the inclination to spend more time walking...thanks very much, William Wallace). In fact, we were so tired from getting in at midnight that we were late for Breakfast--a travesty at a B&B, since some lovely houseowner is working to make your toast.  We decided we would just go downstairs in pajamas and to hell with anyone who judged us.

Eilean Donan Castle

I fear we sent many to hell that morning.  Everyone else in the rooms was appropriately attired--I was wearing a t-shirt with the neck cutout and Kathleen was wearing vintage Cows from PEI.  We are classy broads.  

The real reason we came to Skye was to see Eilean Donan Castle, near Kyle of Lochalsh.  When we finally hauled ourselves from the B&B, we were late for the castle and had to be in Inverness at a certain time for a Loch Ness tour.  We decided to power through the castle, since we had come so far to see it.  By power, I mean run in, see all we could in 40 mins, and run out.  Can't miss Nessie.

Eilean Donan is beautiful, and is the ancestral home of Clan MacCrae.  Being Canadian, we instantly thought of John MacCrae and his poem In Flanders Fields -- we were very excited to see a memorial cairn quoting this text!

The original castle was built in 1230 as a fortification against the Vikings and switched hands many times after this.  It was also basically destroyed in 1719 during the Jacobite uprising.  The castle was restored between 1919 and 1932 by Lt. Col. John MacRae-Gilstrap.  It is one of the most photographed castles in Scotland and is frequently seen in films (Highlander with Sean Connery!) (tl;dr).


After this, we trekked through the Highland hills to Inverness, ancestral home of my family, the MacKintosh's.  We had a tour to catch, so I showed off my parking-vulture skills and stalked an SUV to swoop into a perfect parking location.  We had a bit of a hunt to find the bus stop for our tour, but after some help from Mary at the Salvation Army, we were successful.  We boarded the bus, and headed for the boat.

I love boats.  So much.  It was freezing and damp, but that didn't get me down in the least.  We boarded the boat and got our first round of drinks for the ride. Whisky/Hot Chocolates are wonderful.  The highlight was when Kathleen was ondeck getting a photo and the waves splashed up and hit her in the face.  At least, that was the highlight for me (the highlight for me was when I daydreamed for about 10 minutes about kicking C in the face and then punching her in the scrawk.  That, and the scenery and junk).

The boat went down Loch Ness to Urquhart Castle, a beautiful area of ruins in the Loch.  Though extensively ruined, in its day it was one of the largest strongholds of medieval Scotland.  It is also near this castle that the majority of Nessie sightings occur-alas, we were not so lucky.  We basically ran around taking photos and looking like idiots--but it was a wonderful day and an incredible site.


When we got back to Inverness, we hit the high street for some shopping.  Alas, everything closes between 5-530.  We finally got a phone card though!  Weeee!  O2 sim card is in and we can call home now.  That's all we got.

Urquhart Castle and Loch Ness

We checked into a hostel tonight--the first of this trip--and hauled our stuff down a set of spiral stairs (my nemesis) to our room.  If you've ever hostelled, you know that many hostels, particularly those billed as "Student" hostels, have an age cap for those who wish to stay.  This hostel was not such a place.  Our room mates were older than the hills and very strange, but we didn't much care as we were just there to sleep (I should mention that, while C is able to sleep through a literal apocalypse [TOPICAL!], I was awakened at 2:30am by a total brofest.  Some German guy was expressing his deep man-love [possibly Ol' Gregg style] for some other guy, who may or may not have been a fellow hostel guest.  They hugged it out, each exclaiming that they "must" see the other the following day and retired to their rooms [or wherever].  It was so friggen heartwarming that I think it even warmed the subcockles of my heart.).


We sat and wrote blogs instead of going out tonight--a sad truth.  We have been slow in our blogging and are definitely too tired to go out, drink, and make the trip of tomorrow.


Tomorrow--a trip to the Glenfiddich distillery and heading through the Cairngorm National Park to Perth, Scotland.  Cannot wait.


              xoxo
              Cane

Harry, you're a wizard! You're a wizard, 'arry!!

Monday, May 16, 2011 (ignore that other date...it's a lie).

We awoke at the glorious Holiday Inn Express in Newcastle Upon Tyne, and rolled out of bed to enjoy a very free, very delicious, breakfast (yes, I know--not free--but a sunk cost, so it felt gratuitous).  I tried, and failed, to get a SIM card for my phone-- so after another day of no phone, we just decided the telecommunication gods were against us an moved on.

First Stop - supposed to be Hadrian's Wall.  Couldn't do it.  Too tired, and too much in the wrong direction.  We opted for our second spot--Alnwick Castle in Northumberland County.  Famous for protecting England against the Scots, it was also the castle used in the Harry Potter films.  Harry Potter, you say??  Yes.  Awesome.  We joined into the Battle Axes and Broomsticks tour, which included three children under the age of eight.  Not that many kids, I suppose--except that it was just them, their parents, and us.  No shame.

Our tour guide, Ryan, was an epic fail (I'm willing to give him a pass; his job is total shite.).  He was humourous and cute, but I'm relatively certain every fact he stated was incorrect and, and some points, completely fabricated.  For example, he noted that the Ford vehicle used as the flying car in Harry Potter 2 were very rare.  Apparently, there were 12 used in production.  Of those,  he believes at least 7 were completely destroyed, "never to be used again".  The other 5?  He thinks they were destroyed too.  He doesn't know, but he believes they probably were.  Or weren't.  Who's to know.  He also used the terms "wee" and "poo" to describe the contents of a chamber pot (There were children under the age of ten there, he couldn't very well say "shit and piss", now could he?) --twice-- and referred to attacking Scots who fell into one of Alnwick's many traps and were left to die as "dying for all eternity".  A slip of the tongue?  No.  He said that twice too.  In the end, I won 5 points for Gryffindor by knowing Robbie Coltrane's name and knew nothing more about that castle than before (I learned that movie producers ruin historical structures for their own monetary benefit.  And that, back in the day, Scots used to make small boys toss excrement on people.  Kinky.).

We were lucky to visit on a day where Falconry was presented--FALCONS!  Well...a hawk, an owl, a black lab (in no way a bird) and a mini-falcon attacked fake pheasants for our pleasure.  Not really amazing...but the lovely Tudor costumes were authentic-esque and fun, so the lack of proper Falcons is acceptable (I think that C's expectation of what a falcon actually is is spotty at best.  I'm still not entirely convinced that she knows that a falcon is a bird...might think it's some kind of palsy).  This time. I was surprised that Kdu wanted to hang around for the falcons, since she was so scared of them when we visited the Tower of London.  Kdu pointed out, correctly, that the Tower of London had ravens...not falcons.  And ravens are scarier because they have "verocious" claws.  We think this was supposed to be a melange of a voracious appetite and ferocious claws, but the origins of this slip remain unknown (Here;s the origin: it's from the pig latin, uckfay ouya).

Next stop--Stirling, Scotland.  Kathleen and I visited this place in Jan 2010, but got to the monument a few minutes too late to go up.  We were determined this time.  Wallace would not conquer us.

We sped off to Stirling and found the National Wallace Monument with 30 minutes to spare.  The monument is at the top of a hill and is basically a very tall tower with beautiful views of Stirling.  We ran up the hill--it was a super steep incline, and we basically ran up the damn thing.  If we didnt reach the monument with 15 mins left, they might not let us us!  Ahh!  We had to make it.

Half way up, Kathleen is dying (The Scots don't seem to understand the concept of "gradual incline").  Her frustration is palpable and she exclaims, while glaring at the tower, "I DIDNT EVEN LIKE BRAVEHEART."  In retrospect, I think she just wanted to overtake me as second place in our hill-race, and knows that laughter weakens me. We got up the hill and were admitted to the monument--where we climbed 246 steps of the circular old-skool castle variety--to view the town from the top.  It was majestic, as much of Scotland is,...but there's no way I'd climb that thing again.  We took many tourist/kitsch photos of our conquering of the tower--and told everyone we were American as we were clearly being quite obnoxious.  It was believable.  On the way down--a much easier trek--Kathleen commented that she actually really liked Braveheart, and felt very bad for her earlier outburst (I did.  Mel Gibson was exceptional in that movie.  I've seen it like four times.  I think that I was in a steep-hill rage, and I just blacked out and when I came to, I found out I'd said that.  Horrible.).  Offending the honour of William Wallace in Scotland is basically a capital crime.

Next up--off to the Isle of Skye.  We were starving and stopped at a random local resto on the way--the sign caught our attention and demanded our patronage.  It read: FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD.  To the point.  Succinct.  True.  Our meals were lovely,  and we continued onwards to Skye.  About 15 minutes into the trek, we see a sign warning that the road ahead is closed.  A few minutes later--another sign.  This time, it tells us the road it closed for 5 nights.  A third sign a mile later prompted me to ask, "Well, how closed is it?"  We found out--very closed. A lovely Scottish lad hopped out of his truck, visibly annoyed, and came over to scold us.  I prepared.  I opened the window and smiled sweetly and asked how he was--then explained that we were just three Canadian girls, off on an adventure and out GPS told us to go this way.  If we had to detour, we'd be soooooo lost. *insert pout here* (I once again suggested saying "I'm cold, I'm a woman", but, again, was vetoed.)  I maintain that it would have worked).  He was lovely and obliging to this technique, and called ahead to the road construction and asked them to STOP so we could pass.  He then proceeded to lead us through the construction himself, and we continued onwards to Skye.  

Arriving at midnight, we were dead tired.  Kathleen decided she wanted to wear a nautically themed outfit on the boat tomorrow (cruising Loch Ness) and selected a shirt with various birds on it.  Clearly, she is not particularly clear on what animals originate from the sea, but we'll give her this one (Seagulls.).  This one time.  It's been a long day for everyone--I tried to say that I wasn't a hobo at dinner...in reference to my drink selection--and instead said, "I am not a hobbit."

No, C, you are not.  No one has ever accused you of Hobbitism or existing in the Shire.

Onwards!

xoxo Cane

My pappy taught me how to float, but I can't swim a single note

I arrived in Toronto around midnight, as is my wont, and walked into C's apartment to find delicious capaletti and garlic bread waiting for me…this was excellent, as carbs with carbs is my favourite nutrient combo.  Usually we stay up really late playing Nintendo and drinking and being idiots, but this time not even the excitement of our impending trip could keep us up past 2am.  We were zonked.  Of course, this meant that we got up at a reasonable hour, and not at 1pm, which is my usual M.O.  Nothing really exciting to report, other than eating some fabulous burritos at Chipotle before we shoved off.  C, especially, was stoked about the burrito.  Justifiably.

The plane ride itself was uneventful, other than a girl who threw up in a garbage can upon disembarking the plane.  It was pretty gross, but she handled it with aplomb, and we decided to let her alone – I know if I were being sick into a garbage can in the London Gatwick airport, the last thing that I would want would be for 3 Canadian idiots to ask me if I’m okay.  So, yes.  That was that.  The friggen Hertz guy kept trying to upsell us to a wide-ass Audi, but C held her ground on keeping our compact car, probably due to the remembered pain of that stupid Vauxhall from last time. (And relative poverty, as the Audi doubled our car costs... -C)

Once we got on the road, it only took C a minute to get back into the swing of driving on the “wrong” side of the road.  We drove along, marveling at the scenery, until we stopped at a service station that featured a Burger King (Mistake).  We did not stop especially for the BK, but it was there, and so we ate.   Time was running short before we were to go and see the Monkees in Newcastle, and there would be no time later to refuel our tummies.  The best part of the food at BK (There was no best part) was that it was food, and that their pop was not easily identifiable (a fun game!).  That was a nice touch.  Our Diet Cokes were, correctly, identified by Amy as tasting like Sprite.  They were clearly Diet Sprola (patent pending).   In retrospect, the sketchy food may have caused the Backstreet Boys singalong to As Long as You Love Me...including synchro dance moves in the front by C and I.

We were running kind of late for the Monkees, due to a bit of GPS difficulty and the fact that our flight in had been delayed by a couple hours.  We rolled up to City Hall in Newcastle and Amy and I got out and ran into the venue.  Luckily, Peter, Micky, and Davy had only just started “Theme from the Monkees” (you know, “Hey, hey we’re the Monkees…”).  I really had to go to the bathroom, so I asked the nice ticket man where they were.  He replied “we don’t have bathrooms…but we have toilets”.  At this point, the Monkees are moving onto their second song, and my bladder is going to explode, so I laugh politely and take off like a bat out of hell.  I listened to the next song in the great acoustics of a downstairs bathroom, then sprinted back up the stairs. 

Finally, it was time to take our place in history (or, rather, our seats in row W at a  Monkees concert).  I won’t bore you with details, but the concert was the shit.  It was so great, I was so thrilled – they did all their hits and a couple of less-well-known songs as well.  Light on the banter and heavy on the music…just how I like it.  After about an hour, they kind of stopped playing and did a little dance offstage for a – get this – intermission.  An intermission!  Awesome!  Let’s all go to the lobby and get ourselves a snack (or, in my case, a t-shirt).  During the intermission, we made the executive decision to move from our floor seats up to the balcony, because it looked as though people were having more fun.  So, we watched the second half of the show dancing around.  They closed with an AMAZING version of Daydream Believer, which even non Monkee-ites C and A enjoyed.  I stumbled out of the venue in a stupor induced by the most energetic geriatrics I have ever seen.  Actually, I’d like to take this moment to say that I don’t like the Monkees ironically.  I straight up love the Monkees.  I have always enjoyed their show, and I think their music is just the tops.  So, when I say that I enjoyed this concert, I’m not using “enjoy” in that hipster way where you’re mocking the act…I mean that the Monkees fucking rocked and I liked it more than a fat kid likes cake.  So, I was dying of excitement the whole way back to the hotel. 

In order to try to avoid an extra charge for having a third person in a two-person room, we had to be sneaky upon our arrival to the Holiday Inn Express (jealous?).  So, C went inside and did the talking (as is our agreement),  and made friends with the front desk clerk…who subsequently came outside to show her where to park.  Luckily, Amy is a ninja, and ducked down so that he wouldn’t see her.  The next morning, we realized that he could not have cared less, but at the time, our subterfuge seemed like a genius scheme.  In fact, it even extended so far as our attempt to finagle more blankets and towels.  I suggested the tactic “send more, I’m cold, I’m a woman”, but C decided just to use the ol’ “send us some towels and a blanket, please”.  A bold choice. 

Nothing much else to report, really.  We slept quite well, and were happy with our day.  Oh, and I guess excited for the rest of our trip…even though I think that, deep down, both C and A know that the Monkees  will be an impossible act to follow.

Nanoo nanoo,   

KDu

Oh, there was something else.  KDu was chilling out in the room while Amy and I went to pick up a pizza for a late-night supper.  Apparently, they sell some illicit substances.  At the pizza parlor.  This notice was posted.

Legal.  Highs.

Haste Ye Back!

It's that time again, mes amis...

Stay tuned for some epic travel, to include appearances by Noel Fielding, Patrick Stewart, and Alan Rickman (if we can track him down).

Writing this is basically the only thing keeping me from wallowing in the deep despair that is my current life.  I need travel like I need air, so I've grabbed some friends and last minute flights, and we're hopping the first flight outta Dodge.

A Perfect Canadian Day...

This shot was taken in the Ottawa Valley, heading back to the city at the end of a whitewater rafting trip.  There is nothing more perfect than this.

Toronto, Canada

If you live in Canada, you know that Toronto gets a bad rep outside of the GTA.  Half the time, it gets a bad rep inside the GTA, so the city in general has it rough.  Matters didn't get much better with the election of Rob Ford as mayor, but Toronto got plenty of flack well before Ford came to City Hall.

That said, Toronto is one of the best places in the world.  I rarely post about Canada, and never talk about how great my own country is--tonight's post is for the T. (Pronunciation-- "The Tee Dot").

 If you are visiting Canada, Toronto is a likely stop on your list.  While I maintain Atlantic Canada is the best part of the country and should be on everyone's bucket list, Toronto is one of Canada's only metropolitan destinations.

Things to do in Toronto are endless--one of the foremost reasons I love it here.  My short list of favourite things includes:

1. Canada's Wonderland: I didn't go to amusement parks as a child-not because they aren't fun, but because they didn't exist where I grew up.  Once a year, for one week, Campbell's Amusements would come to town with overpriced games and 6-8 rides and we would call it a fair.  I first got to visit Canada's Wonderland when it was owned by Paramount.  I was 8 or 9, and there were a lot of Klingons and Ferengi on display.  Since then, Canada's Wonderland has grown into a premiere destination for thrill-seekers.

2. Festivals: Toronto is the greatest city in the world to live in during the summer.  There isn't a weekend where you can't find an incredible festival or event to attend.  Some of my favourites include
Caribana - (July 28-August 1, 2011) Caribana, in its 44th year in 2011, is the largest Caribbean festival in North America.  The festival is best known for its massive parade, where thousands of brilliantly costumed masqueraders and dozens of trucks carryling live soca, calypso, steel pan, reggae and salsa artists jam the 1.5km parade route all day.
Taste of Little Italy - (June 17-June 19, 2011) This festival is arguably the most delicious of all events in Toronto (Summerlicious July 8-24, 2011 and Taste of the Danforth August 5-7, 2011 are close contenders).  Little Italy (College West) is blocked off to cars and the already vibrant neighbourhood becomes a massive 3 day street party with incredible food and drink.
Luminato - (June 10-19, 2011) I remember the first Luminato in 2007, when Chantal Kreviazuk did a free concert in front of BCE place on Front St.  Since then, the festival of arts and culture has only grown.  For 10 days in June, Toronto's stages, streets, and public spaces are illuminated with arts and creativity.  Similarly, Nuit Blanche is also amazing, which sees the city turn into a 24hr art festival.  Billed as a sunset to sunrise celebration of contemporary art, the festival generally brings out over a million people to Toronto's streets and makes art accessible to everyone.
Toronto International Film Festival - (September 8-18, 2011) TIFF is one of the most famous film festivals in the world--perhaps not quite as glamarous as Cannes, but definitely known as a good predictor for the Academy Award nominations.  This event is the official end of summer in Toronto, in my books anyway, and is one of the most exciting.  It's common to see a star or two walking around Yorkville--but for TIFF, they invade the streets and give Sharpie a 50% boost in sales.  Aside from the star-hunting, the film screenings are amazing.

3. Royal Ontario Museum - Toronto has amazing museums.  The Art Gallery of Ontario is another gem, but my favourite is the ROM.  This particular photo was taken at the opening of the new wing, the Crystal, back in 2006 or 2007.  While residents are split on the attractiveness of this addition, the amazing pieces contained in this museum are beyond question.


4. Honest Ed's - Ed Mirvish is a Toronto legend. Honest Ed's is a massive discount store on Bloor St. W., started by Mirvish, which is now a little sketchy and a lot dingy, but which somehow reminds me of home.  My mother and grandmother get most excited to visit Honest Ed's when they come to Toronto, and would much rather visit this legend than the Eaton Centre.  Ed Mirvish also owned a very successful live theatre operation, running the Royal Alexandra and Princess of Wales theatres.  I think Mirvish is one of the reasons Toronto is known for its dynamic theatre scene, though there are now more companies running the shows (Dancap).  Since moving back to Toronto in July 2010, I have seen Billy Elliot at the Canon Theatre, Legally Blonde at the Princess of Wales, The Secret Garden at the Royal Alexandra and Miss Saigon and South Pacific at the COC Theatre.  The Lion King is on now, and the city has a long list of incredible shows to come!


5. The Skydome (Rogers Centre) -  I will always know this building as the Skydome, which it was for my entire childhood. I remember watching the Jays win the World Series in 1992 and 1993 (though, it's been pretty sad to be a Jays fan since then...much like the Leafs.)  At Jays games now, it is frequent that most seats are empty, but I still believe Toronto supports its team.  Another bonus?  You can usually get the cheap seats for $12 and giant beers for the game.  I only go once per season, but I make it count.  See David Beckham-- definitely worth going out for.

6. Dundas Square - Not quite Times Square, but steps from my house and containing great restaurants, live weekend events, an AMC theatre, and the Eaton Centre.


 7. The CN Tower - Tourists love this--before I lived here, I went up a few times.  It'd fun the one time, like  the Empire State Building for Rockefeller Centre is.  If you want to do it, pay the little extra to go to the higher observatory--the view is worth it!

 8. Christmas in Toronto - Though it's cold and dreary in the winter, Christmas in Toronto is highlighted by a wonderful European Christmas Market and the Swarovski Christmas Tree in the Eaton Centre.  Always beautiful, Christmas in Toronto melts even the coldest of hearts--I should know, since I have one.

"Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a theif. They steal their insparation and sing about their greif."

I love U2.  I know it's not particularly "cool" to like U2 anymore, but I will always harbour a special love for the band.  These pics were taken at the U2 360 in Toronto on September 16, 2010.  Another reason to love Toronto-- one of the only cities in Canada that continually gets all the world class arts, entertainment and live theatre events!