La Vie est Belle!

Wow....I'm sorry to say, I may never come home!
My second trip to the South of France in the last year and a half - and it was just as grand as the first.

We arrived in Avignon on the 25th. Half of Christian's family are French - and so we stayed with his aunt and uncle, Francoise and Bernard, just outside of Avignon. A big treat for us was that Le Festival Off was in full swing when we arrived. It's the French equivalent to the Fringe Festival - though this Festival seems to attract a majority of professional companies and only a small contingent of amateurs. I think it's safe to say that street performers are the same the world over - lots of jugglers, musicians, mimes....but we also saw a few "experimental" things, like a girl in a white mask, dancing in the dirt. We managed to take in three indoor shows - traditional Indian dancers ( amazing!), the French translation of The Cmplt Wrks of Wm Shkspr ( Christian has been doing this show in the West end for 2 years...and I did an all female production in Edmonton....and the French version was NOT at ALL like the original - but still well done and fun)...and a translation of an American play by Israel Horowitz called "The First" ( also very well done)....the French seem more able to get away with broad, physical acting than we English.

As for life in Avignon - we could all take a page out of that book. The best of all was the time that we took in eating. There is still ritual around it for the French. Christian's uncle comes home from work for lunch everyday....and a meal takes at least two hours. His aunt takes care to set out a table cloth and cloth napkins....Bernard usually takes care of setting out an incredible variety of beverages - red wine, white wine, rose, sparkling water, spring water....but the glasses are small ( unlike our North American fish bowls!)....the portions are small...and it's really more about tasting a variety of lovely flavours in small quantity than stuffing yourself for the sake of feeling full and rushing back to the office!

Our last night we went out for dinner with some of Christian's cousins and I had: Pop Soup ( which was a cold soup with popcorn and raw ham in it), la Dorade ( sea brine? some sort of fish)..which came with the head and tail intact ( thought of Christy Bruce while I tried not to look into its' eye) and for dessert: THREE types of creme brule...one with thyme, one rosemary and the other lavender ( the herbs of Provence). WOW!

Avignon itself is amazingly beautiful! It's rare in that its' ramparts ( walls around the city) are still entirely intact. Many of the streets are cobbled stone, and some of them so narrow that we had to press ourselves against the buildings when a car came by. Avignon was once the home to the Pope, way back when, and so Palais des Pape seems to be the centre of town....It has a massive square out front where many of the street performers did their thing. ( If you've ever flipped through a coffee table book of pics of Provence you will have seen Palais des Papes)...and for a town of 100 000...it seems there is a church around every corner. I went into one which was just as much of a museum as a church...There are paintings and tapestries still hanging there that date back to the 1500's!!!

We did make an effort to go to the beach...It was a gorgeous, HOT day...but as we drove down to Carry le Roche we encountered a micro-climate. There had been a LOT of wind the few days we were there - and so the surface temperature of the water had dropped - which, in combination with the hot air above it resulted in: ( any guesses?) FOG...FOG, FOG...so much fog!!! We couldn't see the ocean until we were standing right on the beach. It was like standing in a cloud - we could feel the mist condensating as it hit us. Still - the beach was packed with kids and families and topless women, all sitting in the fog and looking 12 feet out, which was as far as you could see.....We skipped it and had Fanny take us on a bit of a joy ride through the country side.

anyhow....that's the update for now....I'm back in London for a bit. Soon I will head up to Milton Keynes to visit my Auntie Maureen ( whom I'm named after...middle name) and my Uncle Bob.
This trip has been great - but I'm definitely starting to get home-sick. It will pass...and I will be home soon, back at the grind....

later....

R

Less is More....

Let me start out by saying - I LOVE holidays.....and the great thing about being on a holiday that hasn't turned out the way you planned it, is that you have NO PLANS! It's been a wonderful reminder/ lesson for someone like me who often likes to be in control and know what's going on....In fact, I'm finding that the older I get - the less I care about making lots of plans - maybe it's the improv training....There may come a day when I can look Keith Johnstone into his non-wandering eye and say, "Keith - I am truly living in the moment." I would say that the last few weeks have brought me very close to just that!

Since being back from Scotland I have gotten into a groove of getting up, leaving the flat and wandering where my impulses take me. It's a lovely thing to leave with no destination in mind.

I spent an entire day strolling through the Victoria and Albert Museum AND the Museum of Natural History....Conveniently located across the street from each other and FREE of charge. How civilized!

So - here's the thing with me and museums - I feel almost embarrassed to admit - I don't think I really like them. I've tried, I really have. I've given it the  ol' college try.....I have close friends who RAVE about museums and the art they contain, friends who could spend a week in ONE museum and still not have soaked in enough.....And I also know that I should feel....something...at having the chance to stand in the same room as a lot of these paintings, or sculptures.....but mostly, I end up feeling really, really TIRED. Maybe it's the concrete floors, the general silence - or ( and this is what I suspect most strongly) maybe it's the collected energy that these buildings and pieces of art have absorbed over the years that seems to overwhelm me.

Don't get me wrong - there are many paintings that I have seen in the last week that have done what I think art should do - and that is, they've taken me outside of myself, and even brought tears to my eyes. I have looked at a painting and been dumbfounded as to HOW, with a brush and paint, a person can paint something that looks SO life-like that the painting seems to BREATHE! THAT is real - freaky-time - magic to me.....The same thing with sculptures looking like they might just take a step towards you - WOW!

.....but, a word to museums of the world: LESS IS MORE PEOPLE!!! Less is more!

After a while it gets to feel a bit like going for dinner at a Foody - Yummy. ( for those who have never heard of such a HORRID restaurant....it's a horrendous, Chinese buffet with more choices than you've ever seen in your life - though in my museum analogy, we'd be talking gourmet foods from around the globe instead of bad Chinese/ western cuisine slowly drying under heat lamps). Either way - you gorge yourself on a little bit of everything and come away feeling TIRED, full to bursting, not having really taken in and appreciated a single offering on its own. If your museum only showed say, 100 paintings at a time ( and that's pushing it)....I'd be there! Imagine....a different 100 paintings every two weeks.....and then everything rotates. You'd end up with regular repeat customers!

( I'm exaggerating a little bit....there were a few paintings I spent some quality time with...but you get my point)

Another thing? I think I'd like museums a lot more if I could touch stuff. I want to pick things up and turn them over. I want to smell them and see what the frame is like in the back. I think it also might be cool if there were price tags on all the things in museums. No? Anyone with me here? When there's a price tag attached to something....then you have a quick and easy way of relating the item to your own life. You can stand back and look at VanGough's Sunflowers and think, " It would take me 163 years to earn enough money to buy that,".....then the art starts to become a little more tangible? It would also be really entertaining to listen to that one guy who you know would be saying, " That's crap. There's NO WAY that is worth that much money!"

I think this is why I can spend HOURS browsing through an antiques market. I'm allowed to touch. I can see the price tag....I also get a bit of history on the piece, what year, where it came from...sometimes even who owned it - like an interactive museum. How cool is that? And I don't get shit for taking a coffee with me. ;-)

Anyhow....

I've also spent an afternoon at the Tower of London. Very cool....The crown jewels are something else! There is a room in one of the towers where the more politically sensitive prisoners were kept. Many of them were kept long enough that they had the time to carve their names and family crests into the STONE walls. Very sad.

Walked around SoHo. Interesting. The streets are lined with sex clubs offering peep shows all hours of the day - geared at STRAIGHT men....However, the street traffic is mostly GAY men. I'm not sure which is a cover for which.....

Anyhow....my eyes are FRIED from this computer screen. We are off to Avignon on Sunday....

 

Oh Scot - Land, Scot -Land....

Scotland, dear friends, is quite possibly one of the BEST countries in the WORLD!
 
I met Fiona in Edinburgh ( FYI - yes, I have been spelling Edinburgh incorrectly because my phonetic spelling of it makes more sense to me).....and decided to spend the afternoon there, wandering around....
 
The reason that my Kiwi roommate is in Scotland is that her little sister is marrying a Marine, and he is stationed in Arboath - which is an hour train ride out of Edinburgh, in the direction of Aberdeen. Phew!
 
....Edinburgh is BEAUTIFUL, and a big tip of the hat to the city planners for maintaining what looks like 95% of it's older architecture. We didn't pay to go into the castle, but spent our time strolling up and down streets, going in and out of any shop that caught our eye. As we walked, we chatted our faces of and, I confessed to Fiona wanting to try Absinthe before leaving Europe. She was up for that - but was also really craving some proper fish and chips....Well, lo' and behold! It's been shown to me again and again, "ask and ye shall receive"! We turned a corner, just as the words left Fee's mouth, and there in front of us was: A Mexican bar with a HUGE sign reading Absinthe AND right next door, a Fish & Chip shop!!! That pretty much solidified our plans for the rest of the day!
 
We indulged in a Spanish Absinthe, still made from wormwood, that was 70% alcohol! The lovely Scottish man behind the counter seemed a bit worried about us - but poured them all the same. I was a bit disappointed that we didn't get proper, fancy Absinthe spoons so that we could carmelise our sugar on our own...but when you're dealing with open flame and alcohol, best to let the bar tender do it when it's your first time!
 
For those who have never tried it - Absinthe is bright green ( thus the nick-name the Green Fairy) and tastes like Anise ( that's licorice flavoured for the Albertans!). "Modern" Absinthe was originally distilled by a French doctor to make taking wormwood ( which helps digestion but tastes REALLY bitter) more palatable. It was sold as an herbal tonic....but didn't take folks long to realise that it was ALSO had hallucinogenic side effects. ( the Greeks had been using wormwood for various ailments for a long time). What the absinthe of the day had, that ours TODAY doesn't have, is high amounts of Thujone - which is classified as a convulsant poison(!)...but in fact is very similar in its make-up to THC. The Absinthe available to us today has a MAXIMUM of 10mg/ litre ( though you can buy Logan Fils online which is made in ORIGINAL proportions!!!) Here's little quote:
 
As Oscar Wilde once described :"The first stage is like ordinary drinking, the second when you begin to see monstrous and cruel things, but if you can persevere you will enter in upon the third stage where you see things that you want to see, wonderful curious things." And this is what probably made famous artists what they were.
 
I can safely say that Fee and I stayed in stage one....though we had two shots each. It didn't not feel like any other kind of drunk that I've experienced before....You know how different alcohols you feel in different parts of the body.....this was all in the head. It was quite strange to feel drunk in the head and sober everywhere else!
 
Anyhow - at some point I made my way to the washroom - and here is where I discovered an interesting perk to traveling in Scotland! In the washroom, over the toilet were the usual tampon/ condom/ perfume dispensers and, AND - a VIBRATOR dispenser!!! For 5£ you could get yourself a vibrator right then and there! Well, I had to rush back out to Fiona and share this news! We bought one, of course - because it's not everyday that you come across a vibrator dispenser! It was as basic a model as you can get....and we ended up saving it to give to her sister for her Hen-Night. Hilarious! I believe though that it's an extremely good idea, and imagine that it could keep a gal out of serious trouble when you're drunk at a bar and feeling "on the prowl"! Rather than end up with some drunken loser - you simply grab 5£ and head off on your own! That's CIVILISED! ( I should also mention that this little discovery had me checking out the dispensers in every pub we went into. I also saw every flavour of condom you can think of, including WHISKY flavoured - that boldly displayed the warning: "Do not use this product while driving.", and "Extra Safe" condoms, which left me concerned about the quality of the rest of them!)
 
Arbroath, where Fee's sister lives, is like walking onto a film set. It's a seaside town of 23 000, there's the constant sound of seagulls in the air, and other than the church and remains of the old Abbey, there are no buildings over 3 stories high. All round you are green hills, ocean and the smell of salt water. And, can I just say that little children with thick, Scottish accents are ENCHANTING!
 
We treated our time in Arbroath like our afternoon in Edinburgh. We got up late everyday and when we felt so moved, wandered in to town to explore. What I noticed were an unusual number of second hand stores and a suspicious number of young people in wheel chairs!? I wasn't albe to get an explanation for it. Very strange though....And I saw two midgets, Scottish midgets.
 
On Saturday night, we all got dressed up for Fee's sister's Hen Night ( that's stagette). There were 9 of us dressed like naughty, Catholic school girls. What IS IT about that look that makes the men go crazy? Another thing - the folks in Scotland are refreshingly up front about hitting on each other in the pubs. Fee and I both had a number of guys come up and say things along the lines of, " You're beautiful, you're so pretty, I like you in that skirt, can I buy you a drink? Do you have a man? Would it be alright if I kissed you? Can I have your phone number? Why don't you come to Dundee with me? I like that you look 12." And when they got the slightest of negative answers from us - they simply said, "Lovely to meet you", and moved on! Now - at first it was a little shocking - I'm used to dealing with thinly veiled agendas and lame attempts at witty conversation - but once I adjusted, I realised that it was at least up front and honest of them, and it wasted a whole lot LESS of my time and theirs! And it was all done in such a friendly way - it became more and more amusing! ( Especially when I had a 22 year old Marine peg me as NO OLDER than 23 years old! Bless his hazy, drunken eyes....and him wanting to know what my favourite bands are!)
 
All in all - it was an extremely FUN night. Lots of dancing and drinking, and teasing the bride-to-be. Fee and I later ended up at a dance bar called DeVittos - yes, that's right, a pub in Scotland named for a short, balding, Italian film star. Go figure!
 
Oh yeah...and another thing! I also used the Arbroath Super-Loo! Yup - it's a public washroom downtown....There's and attendant who sits in a little frosted-glass booth. It costs 20p to get in, and you're even issued a ticket! I was let down that there was no wee, Scottish man to wipe my ass for me....but there were vases of plastic flowers everywhere, and you can also but your "feminine products" from the attendant, as well as nappies for the babies. ( I should have asked about vibrators!) The Arbroath Super-Loo also won "Loo of the Year" in 2001, 2002. I'm curious as to who the competition is!
 
I will definitely have to travel back to Scotland!

If you really want to text me...

Here's what you dial from Canada:
 
011 44 7969 231 067
 
Don't phone me. It costs too much money AND, more importantly, I don't want to get brain cancer while I'm on holidays!
 
ox
 
If you get voice mail...it will be some guy named Luke....the last person Christian FORCED to carry his cell phone....

Gay Paris!

Well, Christian and I just spent 36 hours in Paris!

It was crazy and lovely, and it smells like PEE...not everywhere...but it's certainly a smell that you notice more often than in other cities.
 
It was a real treat to speak some more French. We took a bus tour that allowed us to get on and off. ( highly recommend that!) I went to Notre Dame Cathedral for a look around. ( Limey was not into the crowds) We skipped the Louvre as the line-ups are ridiculous....Though I did have a tour around the Salvador Dali museum and that was VERY cool. I thought his water color illustrations of the bible were cool and his bronze cast sculptures AMAZING!!!
 
We did a ton of walking....which included paying 4Euros to climb the narrowest spiral staircase ( that smelled like pee) to the top of  Eglise Sacre Coeur that overlooks all of Paris! Beautiful! It took me forever to get down as my knee had been pushed past its limit by that point. ( Maybe the French piss in the streets because you have to PAY to use most public washrooms? I slipped into a chi-chi restaurant to use the washroom and got SERIOUS FRENCH ATTITUDE from the waiter on the way out. He walked me to the door saying, "Merci, ehn, Merci beaucoup!", in a tone that was dripping with sarcasm. I pretended to be American.)
 
We went out for a nice dinner. We had Chinese food....because that's what one does in Paris - goes for Chinese! It shouldn't have surprised me - but it was odd to be in a Chinese restaurant where they were all speaking French....( you can take the girl out of Alberta...)
 
We tried to visit the Catacombs...but they were closed...SO - instead, we went to some huge, Gothic looking cemetery where Jean Paul Satre and Simone deBouvier are burried. That was cool! I will have to try to post some of those pictures....because, YES, Christian and I were disrepectful enough to set up his digital camera to take our pictures as we eached leaned out the doors of side by side sepulchers! Possibly the COOLEST thing that we saw in the cemetery came as a complete suprise. Sandwiched in amongst row, upon row of gothic - Buffy - the -Vampire-Slayer graves was a GIANT white-tiled, mosaic CAT!!! Seriously! It had one giant paw up in the air and had a random scattering of red and yellow mosaic flowers all over it's body...and across it's belly, in blue tiles it said, " Ricardo". There was a little plaque that said, " Our dear friend, Ricardo, who died too young."
Now, again....I don't want to be one to show too many of my Alberta colors...but I would be willing to put money on Ricardo having been one hell of a DELIGHTFUL gay man in his lifetime! More people should put such creativity into their tomb stones!
 
Saw all the other tourist sights...The Eiffel Tower, L'arc du Triomphe...a bunch of fountains....and got ourselves home in time for me to repack my bag and hit the sack in preparation for taking off to Scotland the next morning! PHEW!
 
Next up: Edinburough, Arbroath and a Scottish hen-party......

Dear Peter, Albert, Christy, Derek, et al....

Just a quick one as it has come to my attention that a few of you are surprised that I am keeping a Blog.( Peter)
None of you could be more surprised than I was!
 
However - I thought I should also take the time to inform some of you that while I am over here....I am in fact carrying with me:
 
A CELL PHONE
 
I should make it clear that this whole cell phone thing has not been my choice. Christian has a spare and insists that I carry it - mostly for safety reasons - but also so he can get in touch with me when he needs to.
I would like to point out the extent to which Mr. Malcolm is willing to go to demonstrate his friendship towards me. Rather than BITCH that I don't have a cell phone - he has simply provided me with one for HIS OWN CONVENIENCE. ( often I forget it at his flat, or forget to turn it on)
 
Something to think about.....( I'll be home August 11th if any of you feel moved to do the same.)
 
I hardly ever use the thing - though I will admit to sending several text messages and quite enjoy them as they are a lot like email.
 
Later NERDS!

High Button Shoes

Well...there comes a time in every vacation when you have to do laundry...

I tossed all my clothes in a bag ( which is not many considering I packed EXTREMELY light for the trek. It really is amazing how little you can get by on. Far less than we think in our everday, urban lives!) and made my way to the local laundry mat. Would you believe £3 for a wash?!!! That's about $7 Canadian!! "£%&*....Christ!Well, in London at least, it seems there is a pub on every corner...and so there was on the corner opposite the laundry pat.

While I waited for my clothes, I popped into the pub for a cup of tea, so I could sit and read my book. ( at the time I was reading Jung For Beginners...I've since moved on to Freud for Beginners. Freud's a FREAK and Jung is extremely interesting!)

After about half an hour an older gentleman, who I took to be the manager, came out of the back room of the pub. ( In retrospect I think he was just coming back from the toilet.) I smiled, he asked if I was alright. ( the English don't say, "How are you?", they say " Are you alright?"...which always makes me wonder if I'm looking upset or in pain. " Are you alright?"...." Yeah, I'm alright, are you alright?"...." Yeah, I'm alright."...as though we've just been in a car accident!) Then he asked if I would like a drink. At this point, still thinking he was the manager, I was thinking, 'Wow - what great service!' I declined the drink, he offered coffee. I graciously declined the coffee and pointed out the tea I had just finished. He offered me more tea...and remembering years of improv training...I finally said YES. It was when he PAID that I realised he was not the manager...but most likely a regular. He also ordered himself and pint and then sat down with me...

Having unexpectedly found myself back in London, with no solid plans, I have been telling myself to be open to whatever the Universe might have in store for me - so I was open to the amusement of chatting with this older, English gentleman. His name was Paul...and before he told me anything about himself - he grilled me about myself. The conversation went something like this:
Are you married?
No - I have a boyfriend.
Sure you have a boyfriend.
Well, I have an ex-fiance who is now my boyfriend.
Ok - so that's TWO men in your life so far.
No - the ex and the current are the same person.
You're confusing me Luv. WHY aren't you married?
I'm not sure.
Yes you are. Come on, let's have it.
Um....I've been too busy.
Why?
Too focuseded on my career...
Why?
To make money?
Why?
To enjoy life...
You should be married with a bunch of kids running around.
I've been busy.
You're a clever one, aren't you?
Yup.
Aw - I can't stand clever women.
You sat at the wrong table then.

He was doing his best to charm me...and I was enjoying his company. There's something about old men that is truly delightful ( this guy was definitelyly in his 60's...though he swore he was only 35). He wanted to know what my "career" was all about, so I filled him in.

It was at that point that he got all excited and wanted me to ask him what he used to do. It turns out that Paul had been a child actor! When he was 11 his mother put him into the theatre and had him going on auditions. His first role was the juvenile lead in a musical called High Button Shoes at the London Hippodrome. ( The London Hippodrome was originally built to be a large, indoor water park in the early 1900's. They did LARGEspectaclele water shows...I guess witsynchronizeded swimming and fancy diving etc...It was later converted to a regular theatre that did large scale musicals in the 20's, 30's, 40's and 50's. It is now a big London nightclub.) High Button Shoes was one such musical, produced in 1948 with, none other than a 19 year old, Audrey Hepburn in the chorus! How crazy is that?! Paul also did a few other national touring shows, and even did a few TV shows in the early 50's. He said that because they did the shows live to air...they would do one performance of a play, live, on the Monday night...then they'd have to come back again on the Thursday and do it all over again!

To be honest - I was skeptical of all of this while he was telling me. I wondered if him co-incidentally also being an actor was a routine that he used to cruise chicks...When I got home I did some snooping on the internet, which is how I found out about the Hippodrome's history, etc...High Button Shoes is such an obscure musical ( it's only ever had 2 productions) that I am inclined to believe him.

Anyhow...as you can imagine...the conversation eventually got around to Paul hitting on me. It was sort of amusing and sad at the same time. I asked how he was enjoying retirement and he went on about how boring it is...and how he hates anything routine...and what he really loves are a great pair of legs, to have a laugh and to maybe, say, take someone like me on a cruise...(!!!!!) I laughed this off, a FEW times...and tried to change the subject by asking what things he recommend I try to see while I'm in London. His response?
" The inside of my flat, darling."

Unbelievable! He was relentless! I eventually bowed out - thank GOD for laundry that's on a timer in the public laundry mat! He did his best to keep me there...with the offer of more drinks ( I forgot to mention that he bullied me into a gin and tonic after I finished my tea.)...and looked really crest-fallen when I got up to go. Seeing how all of this transpired at, oh..4:30 in the afternoon(!), something tells me that good, ole Paul had many, many more hours of cruising time to exercise in the local pub!!!

And on my end....well, I'm curious to know what sort of energetic lesson the Universe is trying to reveal to me right now. Most of the social encounters with the opposite sex that I've had since I embarked on have either been with priests or old men. What's that about, I wonder?

Time will tell....

Canterbury Tales....

ON Sunday afternoon Christian and I set out in our easycar.com rental for Canterbury to see my Nan.
I often have the feeling that I live in a sitcom...and this little road trip was no exception!

We were accompanied on our journey by "Fanny"...that's the name I gave to Christian's GPS. For those of you who don't know my dear friend Christian - he is the biggest PC, techno nerd in my life ( Andrew Currie wins on the Mac world side...but I dare say that Christian may be a little further ahead in the world of gadgets. Sorry Andrew). So OF COURSE we had a satellite, not a plain old map guiding us to my Nan's! Christian's handy little gadget spoke to us all the way along in her pert, efficient little English accent - things like, " In 200 meters, at the round about, take the third exit", and when we took a wrong turn, " Perform a legal U-turn". WHORE!

I quickly grew to despise Fanny. She was brilliant at timing it just so that she would interrupt me right in the middle of a story. Christian hung off of her every word and LOVED her for making the journey so smooth and stress free. Fanny even took the time to point out Post Offices along the way, and bars and petrol stations....Which brings us to a whole other issue. We left London with almost NO gas in the car! Easycar.com is cheap - and they give you the car empty. Now - Christian has taken a very serious political/ environmental stance in his life AGAINST Esso....which is all fine and good, and I really do support him in that....HOWEVER...all we passed were Esso stations. Christian flat out refused to stop at any of them - which wasn't a big deal in the first 25 kms...but once the fuel light came on, and we continued to pass Esso stations...and THEN he turned down a few TEXACO stations....Well, between envisioning us running out of gas on the edge of the highway AND having Christian's time and attentions monopolized by that BITCH Fanny - it turned into one tense ride! Do you know, Chistian actually said to me, " You're going to have to stop talking all together so I can concentrate on Fanny,"!!!! SLUT!!!

We did finally get petrol and arrived at my Nan's house in one piece.

My Nan is lovely and delightful. When we got there, my cousin Sharon's husband, Martin was over. Seems Nan was not getting any heat ( when you're 84 you get cold even in summer). Martin was there to try to fix the problem. He had also brought two of his kids with him ( my second cousins) Susan ( 10 years) and Michael ( 15 months). Sweet kids!

Something we learned very quickly about 84 year olds: Lots and lots of family members call everyday to check up on them...and when they do, each one of them get the FULL story in minute detail as to what's happening in the flat that day. Of course one of the details being passed out to the family was my visit with Christian....only Nan kept saying, " Rebecca is here from Canada with her boyfriend."

!!!!

Unfortunately I missed my window of opportunity to correct Nan because I was too busy teasing Christian about being my boyfriend! He and I did have a rushed and whispered discussion about correcting her - but then we were also spending the night...and Nan only has one guest bed ( which Christian and I were fine with sharing) ...but we figured it would be too long and complicated to explain. It would also have caused Nan undo hostess stress. She would have gotten worried about where the other was to sleep and would have felt AWFUL if one of us slept on the couch....AND to try and explain that my boyfriend is my ex-fiance back in Canada, who really wouldn't mind me sleeping with Christian....FORGET IT!!!

And so - things got more and more sitcom like as Nan had about 14 phone calls and time, after time it was, " Rebecca's boyfriend this, Rebecca's boyfriend that....". We thought maybe Nan had forgotten Christian's name. Turned out that she was having a hard time understanding what his name was...So for the first while she just called him Christine...and by morning was calling him Chris. ( again...if you don't know Christian...he is NOT NOT NOT a Chris!!!) Hilarious!!!

In the morning...Nan wouldn't let me wake Christian up to join us. " Ah - let the darling have a lay -in and then you can take him in his tea." WHAT???!!! Because Christian was my boyfriend (!) he got to sleep late...then Nan made him a cup of tea that I was instructed to take in and wake him up with so that he could have his morning cup'a in bed!!! ( Sorry Bruce, honey, you really missed out!)

Towards the end of our visit, when Nan and I had a moment alone, she leaned in and whispered:
" He's very, very nice. You're very lucky. You've done well."
And as Christian was saying goodbye to her, " I'm very happy with you and you're always welcome to stay here."

So - there you have it. Christian is IN...and Bruce...well, I'm going to have a LOT of explaining to do when the wedding invites go out!

In the end...hard to say who was the bigger whore: Me or Fanny? I'm going to stick with Fanny. She got us lost on the way to IKEA and I, yes ME ME ME...I got us there! Screw you Fanny!

Next weekend....Paris!!!
;-)

Be Careful What You Ask For!

So....a bit of follow-up on some of my ( brief) Camino experiences...

After meeting the "Boob - oggling young priest" on the bus to Logrono my narrative mind got to wandering...What if I had accepted his offer and gone to stay the night at his albergue? In reality...probably nothing much...but still, I've been wanting to write a one, or two hander for a while and got to thinking perhaps this might be of interest...So what would happen? I got to daydreaming various story possibilities...Unfortunately I don't know a lot of priests...I know NONE, and so it was difficult to imagine the answers a priest might give to my many questions. I settled on the idea that, once I return to Toronto I will have to try to find a YOUNG priest that might be willing to answer some of my questions about celibacy, becoming a priest, being a young priest in a modern world, etc....Done.

So...I take my day of rest in Logrono and the next day, hop a bus to Burgos on the edge of the Meseta. I find the albergue with the help of my cab driver...and end up there an hour before they are letting pilgrims in. So, I sit myself down at a pic nic table for a bit of lunch: bread and a tin of sardines. Ah - but of course the tab on the tin can breaks off without opening the can at all. Typical. I was not too worried though, as I had a knife with me which I pulled out and proceeded to try stabbing into the lid of the can. By the way - we're talking a simple jack-knife that folds to close...You all know what's coming!

The knife folds in half on my second stab and slices right into my pointer finger on my right hand! Oh - and it was DEEP too! I immediately stuck my finger in my mouth, grabbed the knife and headed towards the office of the albergue. I grabbed the knife to show them what I'd cut myself with because none of the men in the office spoke English. There was a couple at the table next to me..and the woman sensed something was wrong and gave me a curious look. The couple spoke only German. I showed her my finger, which gushed blood as soon as I took it out of my mouth...I started to cry. The woman came with me into the office and we showed the man my finger. MORE BLOOD! Thankfully blood, tears and the offending jack-knife were universal in their message!

The man brought out, much to my dismay, a wad of cotton....Not tightly packed cotton - it looked more like cotton candy! He pressed it to my finger for a bit, and when he pulled it away to have a look wisps and threads of cotton were stuck all over my finger and inside my cut! So there I was crying, switching back and forth between French and English with a German woman trying to keep me calm and a Spanish man filling the gash in my finger with cotton bits. It all got dealt with. The Germans has some adhesive sutures and the Spanish man had iodine....What I was not able to convey was my concern that it was a deep cut that might need stitches....I calmed down, got bandaged and finished my lunch. The Spanish man opened my sardines and put them on a plate for me!

I went back into the office to see if I might be able to better communicate - and there was a young man there who spoke Spanish and English!!! Joy!!! I told him what had happened and that I thought I might need stitches. He translated for me and we found out there was a clinic 30 minutes away that would treat pilgrims for free. I felt a bit overwhelmed by the idea of trying to get treatment on my own, he sensed this and offered to come with me and be my translator.

So - we set out along the path by the river. He introduced himself as Albert. Guess what Albert does?! Well, he's a YOUNG, catholic priest as fate would have it! Crazy! I told him about the priest on the bus ( minus the boob part) and how I was thinking about writing a play...but that I needed to ask a priest a bunch of questions...Albert said, "Feel free to ask me anything you want. I'd be happy to talk with you".!!!!!

We had a GREAT talk all the way to the clinic and back. ( didn't need stitches - just some more adhesive sutures and a tetanus shot)...AND he gave me his email address in case I have other questions. It turns out that Albert is a priest in New York - and has invited me to be in touch with him if I ever get to New York!

Ask and ye shall receive! ( I could have done without the sliced open finger...but still...)

More later....

Free time...

Well, I am back in London with 5 weeks to fill!

First and foremost...I need to see a doctor about this knee. It's not getting any better. That - I will take care of on Monday...

I'm over the whole "feeling like a failure" thing. It didn't take long...and, as many of you pointed out - failure is something that I've been learning about, and teaching about for a long time...AND the only real valuable learning to be had comes out of it! What matters more is that I took a risk and challenged myself to go into the unknown. What is interesting is that I have, in essence, been handed MORE UNKNOWN than I had planned for! Now I am reminding myself to listen, stay open and positive....and to go further into it.

So - I don't have too many concrete plans as of yet....I believe I will join my roommate, Fiona, in Scotland for a few days. At some point I will go to Paris...and later in the month, Avignon. Chistian and I have booked a car and will be driving to Canterbury on Sunday to visit my Nan.

I am also working on getting my British passport! Tomorrow I will visit a yoga studio not far from here and see if I can take classes there. ( I'm going to offer to volunteer in exchange for classes as I am still a poor pilgrim as far as my bank account is concerned!) I may also attempt the Master Cleanse...Foolishly, I told many of you that I would have a much smaller ass when I got home - and I am determined to follow through on THAT!

I sound busy already...but really, I am spending most of my time, so far, napping and reading - and those two things I definitely NEED!

So - stayed tuned if you are so inclined...I have NO IDEA what sort of things I will have to write about in the coming weeks....Crazy!

R