Thursday, September 1, 2011
September 1, 2011: An esoteric question.
Just think for a moment. My mother graduated from Vancouver High School. (Class of 1933… Go Trappers!) In 1956, Vancouver High School was renamed Fort Vancouver High School. All that pioneer spirit, you know! The building at 28th and Main was still the campus.
In 1970 they built a new building to house Fort Vancouver High… 5700 E. 18th Street. A decade later, the old Vancouver (Fort Vancouver) High School building was torn down.
So, does Mother’s alma mater still exist or not?
This question has relevant meaning for a number of members of my extended family. Tyee High is a memory. Did we really graduate from high school or are we just kidding ourselves?
Monday, August 29, 2011
Notes from the road – Part VI.
It’s our last full day in Canada. We have another breakfast at Chez Cora. I recommend the Jambon Panini with mountains of fresh fruit.
We successful traverse the streets of Montréal and return the rental car. We ride Montréal’s subway, Métro for the first time. We journey to the Beaudry station and emerge in The Village, Montréal’s gay neighborhood. We know the secret handshake and are quickly ushered in. I’d tell you more, but it is top secret. (I’m kidding. There is no secret handshake. Anyone, even the most flamboyant breeder can enter The Village.) It’s mostly a commercial string of bars, restaurants and enterprises of ill-repute on Rue-Ste.-Cathérine Est (East St. Cathy’s Street) surrounded by some pretty swanky apartments/condos on the side streets. (Come on people, it’s the gay neighborhood, of course there are bars and restaurants and enterprises of ill-repute and swanky domiciles. I’m being semi-redundant here.)
Incongruously, there are two large Catholic churches in the neighborhood. As soon as I saw the second church, Église St.-Pierre-Apôtre (Church of St. Peter, the Apostle), I turned to Richard and said, “How many Catholic churches does a gay neighborhood need? I think this is overkill!”
He, of course, explains to me the storied history of the neighborhood as a working class, Catholic community that blah, blah, blah. And yadda, yadda, yadda.
We entered the Église St.-Pierre-Apôtre. Please, I have to ask that you all promise not to get on the horn immediately and contact the pope, but there was a very thinly disguised rainbow flag above the altar. This is not your mother’s Catholic church.
Rue-Ste.-Cathérine Est. Our neighborhood’s more festive than your neighborhood! Na-na-na!
Even the subway station has the colors!
I couldn’t read it in real life, and in pictures it just makes me dizzy.
The Université du Québec à Montréal replaced a church. I loved the way they saved the entry.
We successful traverse the streets of Montréal and return the rental car. We ride Montréal’s subway, Métro for the first time. We journey to the Beaudry station and emerge in The Village, Montréal’s gay neighborhood. We know the secret handshake and are quickly ushered in. I’d tell you more, but it is top secret. (I’m kidding. There is no secret handshake. Anyone, even the most flamboyant breeder can enter The Village.) It’s mostly a commercial string of bars, restaurants and enterprises of ill-repute on Rue-Ste.-Cathérine Est (East St. Cathy’s Street) surrounded by some pretty swanky apartments/condos on the side streets. (Come on people, it’s the gay neighborhood, of course there are bars and restaurants and enterprises of ill-repute and swanky domiciles. I’m being semi-redundant here.)
Incongruously, there are two large Catholic churches in the neighborhood. As soon as I saw the second church, Église St.-Pierre-Apôtre (Church of St. Peter, the Apostle), I turned to Richard and said, “How many Catholic churches does a gay neighborhood need? I think this is overkill!”
He, of course, explains to me the storied history of the neighborhood as a working class, Catholic community that blah, blah, blah. And yadda, yadda, yadda.
We entered the Église St.-Pierre-Apôtre. Please, I have to ask that you all promise not to get on the horn immediately and contact the pope, but there was a very thinly disguised rainbow flag above the altar. This is not your mother’s Catholic church.
Rue-Ste.-Cathérine Est. Our neighborhood’s more festive than your neighborhood! Na-na-na!
Even the subway station has the colors!
I couldn’t read it in real life, and in pictures it just makes me dizzy.
The Université du Québec à Montréal replaced a church. I loved the way they saved the entry.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Notes from the road – Part V
Il pleut. Il pleut et il pleut et il pleut et il pleut.
For those of you not as fluent in French as I am, the above translates (figuratively) to, “It is raining so fricking hard that there are ducks standing in line to purchase umbrellas.
The nice valet parking attendant snatched the $5(CAD) bill out of my hand, handed me the car keys and watched Richard and I slog out in the rain to our vehicle. In the few seconds, it took us to toss our bags into the trunk and climb into the front seats, we were drenched. We wrung the excess moisture out of our clothes as I deftly navigated the car through the streets of Ville de Québec.
Thirty-five short minutes later, we were at Ste. Anne de Beaupré. Although a scene of miracles, it is a somewhat lesser pilgrimage site than Lourdes. Richard's mother had always wanted to go to Ste. Anne de Beaupré, but had never made it there. So, in honor of Bernadette Sloan Parker we made the pilgrimage.
Ste. Anne de Beaupré’s location, while not stunningly beautiful, was quite pleasant in its own waterlogged way. The Fleuve St. Laurent was nearby and it had lovely gardens and lawns. The torrential rains pouring off the roof of the basilique were, umm, quite invigorating as they splashed on our heads.
Richard thanked me for attending mass with him to honor his mother. I’m not quite as respectful as he gives me credit. My other option was sitting at a picnic table, unprotected from the deluge.
Leaving Ste. Anne de Beaupré, we passed the Chutes de Montmorency. We had planned to stop, but quite frankly if you’ve seen one damn waterfall in a pouring rain, you’ve seen them all.
We decided to take the scenic route back to Montréal hugging the Flueve St. Laurent, largely because I took a wrong turn and that was the road we were on. We passed through many quaint, rain soaked towns before we rejoined the freeway just past Trois-Rivière. By the by, if you’re looking for a picturesque small city, do not take the route we took through Trois-Rivière. Bleak is the best description.
We got back on the freeway just in time to experience… you guessed it… road construction. Nothing gives you an adrenalin rush quite like navigating Canadian road construction in heavy traffic during a rain storm.
We were quite happy to finally get to our hotel.
Stunningly, there are few pictures from day 5. The is the basilica at Ste. Anne de Beaupré.
This is a cute little park in the town of Champlain. We needed to pee and it wasn’t raining very hard.
For those of you not as fluent in French as I am, the above translates (figuratively) to, “It is raining so fricking hard that there are ducks standing in line to purchase umbrellas.
The nice valet parking attendant snatched the $5(CAD) bill out of my hand, handed me the car keys and watched Richard and I slog out in the rain to our vehicle. In the few seconds, it took us to toss our bags into the trunk and climb into the front seats, we were drenched. We wrung the excess moisture out of our clothes as I deftly navigated the car through the streets of Ville de Québec.
Thirty-five short minutes later, we were at Ste. Anne de Beaupré. Although a scene of miracles, it is a somewhat lesser pilgrimage site than Lourdes. Richard's mother had always wanted to go to Ste. Anne de Beaupré, but had never made it there. So, in honor of Bernadette Sloan Parker we made the pilgrimage.
Ste. Anne de Beaupré’s location, while not stunningly beautiful, was quite pleasant in its own waterlogged way. The Fleuve St. Laurent was nearby and it had lovely gardens and lawns. The torrential rains pouring off the roof of the basilique were, umm, quite invigorating as they splashed on our heads.
Richard thanked me for attending mass with him to honor his mother. I’m not quite as respectful as he gives me credit. My other option was sitting at a picnic table, unprotected from the deluge.
Leaving Ste. Anne de Beaupré, we passed the Chutes de Montmorency. We had planned to stop, but quite frankly if you’ve seen one damn waterfall in a pouring rain, you’ve seen them all.
We decided to take the scenic route back to Montréal hugging the Flueve St. Laurent, largely because I took a wrong turn and that was the road we were on. We passed through many quaint, rain soaked towns before we rejoined the freeway just past Trois-Rivière. By the by, if you’re looking for a picturesque small city, do not take the route we took through Trois-Rivière. Bleak is the best description.
We got back on the freeway just in time to experience… you guessed it… road construction. Nothing gives you an adrenalin rush quite like navigating Canadian road construction in heavy traffic during a rain storm.
We were quite happy to finally get to our hotel.
Stunningly, there are few pictures from day 5. The is the basilica at Ste. Anne de Beaupré.
This is a cute little park in the town of Champlain. We needed to pee and it wasn’t raining very hard.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Notes from the road - Part IV
Pictures from our full day in Ville de Quebec
The iconic hotel Chateau Frontenac.
If you ask Richard, “Chutes de neige” should never be translated into English. It refers to the steep pitched roof above the sign and the fact that in winter snow will bombast off the roof, causing danger to loiterers below.
Richard wouldn’t let me bring home my new toy cannon.
A street scene from Basse-Ville or lower town, along the river.
The iconic hotel Chateau Frontenac.
If you ask Richard, “Chutes de neige” should never be translated into English. It refers to the steep pitched roof above the sign and the fact that in winter snow will bombast off the roof, causing danger to loiterers below.
Richard wouldn’t let me bring home my new toy cannon.
A street scene from Basse-Ville or lower town, along the river.
Notes from the road - Part IIIb
Arrival in Ville de Québec.
The historic old city of Québec is perched on a promontory high above the Fleuve St. Laurent (St. Lawrence River). Our hotel was not perched on said bluff. Our hotel was at the foot of the bluff. We arrived at about 4PM. I cajoled Richard into making the trek to see the old town. We got a map from the hotel’s front desk. (Do not believe Richard when he claims that we were issued crampons and a safety rope. There was no rappelling involved.) The fifteen minute walk took a hair bit more than a quarter hour. We were panting. We were sweating. A concerned passerby checked us for a pulse. But we made it!
A typical street in Old Québec.
True to their French heritage, Québecois are into their gardens.
This is a building that is very important and I have forgotten the name of.
The historic old city of Québec is perched on a promontory high above the Fleuve St. Laurent (St. Lawrence River). Our hotel was not perched on said bluff. Our hotel was at the foot of the bluff. We arrived at about 4PM. I cajoled Richard into making the trek to see the old town. We got a map from the hotel’s front desk. (Do not believe Richard when he claims that we were issued crampons and a safety rope. There was no rappelling involved.) The fifteen minute walk took a hair bit more than a quarter hour. We were panting. We were sweating. A concerned passerby checked us for a pulse. But we made it!
A typical street in Old Québec.
True to their French heritage, Québecois are into their gardens.
This is a building that is very important and I have forgotten the name of.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Notes from the Road – Part IV or III or OMG I am already lost in this trip.
Okay, I’ve regrouped. This is day 3, so this should be Part III. I want everyone to go back to the last entry and where it says “Part III (or Part IIb)” in the title, take a Sharpie and cross out the “Part III” portion on your screen (if you’re grammatically fastidious, you may want to take out the parenthesis, too). Now go up to the title of this post and black out the “Part IV or” and the “or OMG I am already lost in this trip”. That will take care of any confusion.
Day III was the day I rented my first international car.
Generally speaking, I don’t refer to rental car agencies in kind terms. I admit I had a good experience in Salt Lake City, but I thought it was a total aberration.
I had walked alone from the hotel to the Atwater-Métro branch of Globe Car Rental. One would think that on foot, with an exact address, I wouldn’t toddle past the agency. But I did. Three times. I was beginning to believe I had been taken. They had my credit card number (another sorry story) and were now enjoying an all-expenses paid vacation in some country that had no extradition treaty with Canada.
Estimating the address, I walked into what I thought was a multiplex movie theater. And there, next to the popcorn machine was Globe Car Rental. (Actually, it was a shopping center. It all made sense when you opened the door.)
I entered with an attitude. I spoke French with my most authoritarian accent, “J’ai un reservation pour une voiture. Je m’appelle Robert Cornelison.”
They responded with “oooh la ètre de whâtever.”
I glazed over.
“You’re more comfortable in English, aren’t you?” was the next thing I heard.
You have to have been there. I will discuss the hospitality of Montréalers later, but I had two new best friends. They did everything but drive us to Ville de Québec. If you ever need a car in Montréal, you have my recommendation!
Day III was the day I rented my first international car.
Generally speaking, I don’t refer to rental car agencies in kind terms. I admit I had a good experience in Salt Lake City, but I thought it was a total aberration.
I had walked alone from the hotel to the Atwater-Métro branch of Globe Car Rental. One would think that on foot, with an exact address, I wouldn’t toddle past the agency. But I did. Three times. I was beginning to believe I had been taken. They had my credit card number (another sorry story) and were now enjoying an all-expenses paid vacation in some country that had no extradition treaty with Canada.
Estimating the address, I walked into what I thought was a multiplex movie theater. And there, next to the popcorn machine was Globe Car Rental. (Actually, it was a shopping center. It all made sense when you opened the door.)
I entered with an attitude. I spoke French with my most authoritarian accent, “J’ai un reservation pour une voiture. Je m’appelle Robert Cornelison.”
They responded with “oooh la ètre de whâtever.”
I glazed over.
“You’re more comfortable in English, aren’t you?” was the next thing I heard.
You have to have been there. I will discuss the hospitality of Montréalers later, but I had two new best friends. They did everything but drive us to Ville de Québec. If you ever need a car in Montréal, you have my recommendation!
Notes from the Road – Part III (or Part IIb)
More pictures from Montréal.
Montréal has this neat thing called the Biosphere. Richard and I were going to go in it, but after we got there, we heard that they had scientific thingy-ma-jigs displayed there. Well, that is just so un-American. You understand we couldn’t do it. The Biosphere, part of the 1967 Expo, is on the Île-Ste-Hélène, so we had to take a ferry to get to it. (I heard that quip, ‘færies on a ferry’. That is just so funny, I forgot to laugh.) Anyway… where was I heading with this before I was so rudely interrupted?
Well, that is one thought line lost for eternity.
Montréal is a big city, with a big city skyline. It bears no resemblance to Hood River.
This is the Place Jacques Cartier in Vieux Montréal (Old Town, if you must). We arrived there late afternoon and just kind of hung out with the other tourists for a couple of hours then had a great dinner at one of the many restaurants that lined the square. It was one of my favorite times in Montréal.
Montréal has this neat thing called the Biosphere. Richard and I were going to go in it, but after we got there, we heard that they had scientific thingy-ma-jigs displayed there. Well, that is just so un-American. You understand we couldn’t do it. The Biosphere, part of the 1967 Expo, is on the Île-Ste-Hélène, so we had to take a ferry to get to it. (I heard that quip, ‘færies on a ferry’. That is just so funny, I forgot to laugh.) Anyway… where was I heading with this before I was so rudely interrupted?
Well, that is one thought line lost for eternity.
Montréal is a big city, with a big city skyline. It bears no resemblance to Hood River.
This is the Place Jacques Cartier in Vieux Montréal (Old Town, if you must). We arrived there late afternoon and just kind of hung out with the other tourists for a couple of hours then had a great dinner at one of the many restaurants that lined the square. It was one of my favorite times in Montréal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
