lonita

Month

May 2001

7 posts

Souvenirs and memories.
What did I bring away with me from Montreal outside of some very good memories? Not a lot. I used to be very into collecting souvenirs of trips, but over the last few years that’s relaxed quite a bit.


What I used to do was keep scrapbooks of my trips. I’d get a big blank book and glue into it every scrap I laid my hands on; including bus tickets, restaurant menus, ice cream wrappers, plant leaves, post cards, photographs, etc. I don’t regret it, not one iota, and I suppose I’d do it again next time I go on extended holiday somewhere.


My last few trips mainly consisted of me hoarding postcards. I love postcards. I beg for postcards from people I know online, who live in places I’ve never been (sometimes places I have been, too), and places I’ll likely never get to see.


Postcards are always better than the pictures I would take myself, and they’re the most handy thing to keep a travelogue on. You can write your impressions of whatever place is on the front of the card. It might not provide much space, but it’s a lot lighter load to carry than a big notebook and such. (Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big devotee of notebooks, writing, journalling, and other such stuff. :>)


The only thing postcards can’t replace, are the people you see. For that you need a camera, but even those can be got cheaply these days.


So, what did I bring away from Montreal outside of a cold and several blisters on my feet from all the walking I did? I have ticket stubs from U2, the Biodome, trip up the tower in the Olympic stadium, train, visit to Notre Dame, a mall map from the Eaton Centre there, and a lot of photographs.


I also brought back the memory of a conversation I had with one of the other guests in the hostel; a conversation that could very well change my life once I mull over the simplicity of what this man said to me.


That, outside of the fun I had, is probably one of the most important aspects of the trip.


I wonder, in a small way, why I don’t keep the scrapbooks that I used to keep. Part of it is lack of time, part of it is just life changes. But maybe it’s just realising once and for all, that the real memories of what you do are not the ones on paper. The real memories are the ones you keep with you inside, and no amount of paper can make them more important or more memorable; though it’s nice to have the triggers.

May 30, 2001
#travel #journal
U2 in review.

Finally, after many years of waiting (too many, I think), I got to see U2.


That was the main reason for going to Montreal; seeing the city came second.


I say too many years for a couple of reasons; one because it’s not fun to wait for anything, and two because Bono’s voice isn’t what it used to be. I’m guessing his vocal cords will be shot by the end of the week.


Apparently he can’t do arena shows anymore, so that’s why this tour is smaller stadiums. His voice can’t take the straing, and it’s showing, unfortunately.


Don’t get me wrong, it was a wonderful show, and I’m very happy I finally got to see them live.


The thing that made me happiest is that they did my favourite song, Bad; and apparently he’s been botching it a bit during other parts of the tour. He didn’t that night. It was wonderful.


The show was a mix of the new album and some old songs, but not many songs pre-Achtung Baby; though they did do Sunday Bloody Sunday which surprised a lot of people.


The show itself starts off with the song Elevation with full house lights on. That’s a very very unusual thing. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a band doing that before.


The stage has a heart-shaped catwalk extending from it, and some of the lucky folks who had general admission floors, were allowed inside the the heart shape.


We had decent seats for being behind the band; at the centre of the heart but in the 200 level. It was a very nice view of the whole heart.


The heart had lights surrounding it on the inner and outer edges. Bono and The Edge would walk around it occasionally.


The evening started off in fear, truth be told, because the sound at the back during PJ Harvey’s set was horrible. We were afraid it would be that way all night. As it turns out, part of the problem was sound bouncing off the back walls and reverbing, and the lack of people. Once the place filled up it was better. The other problem, as it turns out, was that PJ’s amp was shot. It blew out half way through her set. Once the place was full and U2 took the stage, things were good.


Below is a crappily drawn picture of the stage. The band was set up in the black area inside the heart, and in the black area above the heart were an arced row of pixel boards that came up occasionally during the show either showing psychedelic colour patterns, or a James Bond style girl sihouette that Bono would dance with. They were used for other displays also, but very minimally. That was the whole tour in a nutshell; minimal. They wanted to do a straight-ahead rock’n’roll concert, and that’s exactly what they did. There was none of the glitz and crap of Popmart or Discotheque; and it was really nice.


There were giant screens, of course, but for some reason they were all black and white. I wonder why. I wish they’d been colour ones. Perhaps that’s another augmentation to the feeling of minimalism.


I think, really, that this is going to be the band’s last major tour. With Bono’s voice faltering as it had been, I don’t see much more future in arena shows for them. I don’t see them stopping, no; I just think it’s going to be smaller tours and large clubs.


It was a good show, regardless of the faults, and I’m very happy I finally got to see them. Many thanks to Max and my mother for helping the trip come to be.


Addendum:


One thing that did surprise me, was the lack of body searches when we went into the Molson Forum. That’s fairly unusual for a show like that, but I’m guessing that the amount of people attending might have made it a bit difficult to carry off. Still, considering Bono’s had things tossed at him, and the fact that fans are often more than fanatical, I’m very surprised they didn’t do anything in the way of checking people. It ticks me off in a way, because this means I could have taken a camera in there and gotten some shots. Grumble.


Bad - U2


If you twist and turn away.
If you tear yourself in two again.
If I could, yes I would
If I could, I would let it go.
Surrender, dislocate.
If I could throw this lifeless
Lifeline to the wind.
Leave this heart of clay,
See you walk, walk away,
Into the night.
And through the rain.
Into the half-light,
And through the flame.
If I could, through myself,
set your spirit free.
I’d lead your heart away,
See you break, break away
Into the light.
And to the day.

To let it go,
And so to fade away.
To let it go,

And so fade away.
I’m wide awake.
I’m wide awake.
I’m not sleeping.
Oh, no, no. If you should ask then maybe
They tell you what I would say.
True colors fly in blue and black,
bruised silken skies and burning flag.
Colors crash, collide in blood shot eyes.

If I could, you know I would.
If I could, I would let it go.
This desparation.
Dislocation.
Separation.
Condemnation.
Revelation.
Temptation.
Isolation.
Desolation. Let it go,
And so to fade away.
To let it go,
And so fade away.
Oh, no
I’m wide awake.
I’m wide awake.
I’m not sleeping.
Oh, no no

May 29, 2001
#music #journal #lyrics
Montreal
I figured a trip to a city that I’ve never seen anything of but the train station, wouldn’t be without its adventures and incidents, but I didn’t figure those experiences would start with the trip barely even begun.


Who knew? The bus station in Hamilton has self-flushing toilets.


I also didn’t know that the next trip experience would include me developing a head and chest cold on the train to said city. So, my first purchase in Montreal was a bottle of decongestant. Yummy. Never used Robitussin before, and I have to say that it doesn’t taste too bad. Certainly tastes better than Buckley’s. (Anything would, though.)


We walked from the train station to the hostel we were staying at, and on the way passed St. Patrick’s Basilica which is a lovely old church dedicated to, and used by, the city’s Irish Catholic population. We visited Notre Dame on our last day, which was very lovely, and very blueish. (I never did get to see its named counterpart when I was in Paris, much to my regret.) I’m not a church-going person by any stretch of the imagination, but I like visiting old churches. Some are quite lovely.


Our first impression of the city was, “Gosh, it’s awfully quiet for a big city on a Saturday afternoon.”


That impression quickly changed when we headed off to Rue St. Catherine later on. That’s one of the main streets, and it seems Montreal retains quite a lot of European style habits that don’t seem to exist in other Canadian big cities; namely that all the action is concentrated (more or less) on what (in England) would be called the high street. That street is covered in what one would normally find on a high street; lots of shops, restaurants, a few theatres, and lots of people.


Surviving in Montreal isn’t too difficult for non-French speakers, since the city is not only well-used to tourists, but is what could be termed the English city of the French province. One of the best universities in the country is there (McGill), and it’s an English university. (Most of it scattered through various buildings lining Stanley Street, which goes up a hill towards Mount Royal. Must be hell in winter.)


Montreal, like many large cities worldwide, has its own Chinatown, which is marked off by these really lovely gates. (Unfortunately the picture I took of one of those gates, got deleted.) The pharmacy there has a pharmacist who can, according to the sign, speak English, French, and six different dialects of Chinese. It’s not a large Chinese section, from what I could gather, but it wasn’t without its charms. It had what a Chinatown usually has; lots of shops, lots of restaurants (from very Chinese to very catering-to-North-Americans), and lots of people.


The hostel was stayed at (Auberge Alternative du Vieux MontrĂ©al), located in Old Montreal near the port and right across the street from what used to be the Central Fire Station but is being reconstructed to be a museum, was quite nice. The people (staff and guests) were friendly, the place was well-equipped, and it was cheap. ($18 per night) I’d recommend it to anyone; and, according to other guests I heard talking, it ranks between 8 and 9 on a hostel scale of 1 to 10.


The metro (subway, tube, underground, etc.) was a metro, but not full of the sort of graphitti one imagines the New York subway to possess. It was clean, and extensive enough. The cars were narrower than the ones in Toronto, but the trains ride quieter, as the cars use rubber wheels. (Fare is $2 per trip, but you can buy a strip of tickets - I think it’s 10 - for about $8.50. They also have montly passes and special three or four day passes mainly geared for tourists.)


Though the metro is nice, the only way to see the city is really by foot. It might be a lot of walking, and some of it uphill, but you miss so much of the flavour by staying underground or on buses.


We ate some traditional regional food, of course, but that’s one thing you should (in my not so humble opinion) always do when you visit a place you’ve not been before. There’s the smoked meat that the city is well-known for, which is just smoked ham, and poutine. Poutine is french fries covered in gravy and cheese curd. It’s really, really yummy.


The city has other European touches; like the proliferation of cafes, and the existance of what the population of France would term a tabac. That’s just a small shop, smaller than a convenience store, that sells cigarettes, beer, wine, junk food, and small things like that. One thing you have to bear in mind, though, should you stay in Old Montreal, is that there don’t seem to be too many grocery stores or tabacs. There’s one five minutes walk from the hostel we stayed at, but there didn’t seem to be any others, and the closest pharmacy is the one for Chinatown. It’s not that far of a walk, though.


The city has two IMAX theatres, which is very nifty, and has (of course) the Olympic Stadium. Right under the stadium, in a building that was used for sports like handball and such, is a place called the Biodome. This is now used as an indoor zoo. It’s an amazing place. It’s set up as forests, each room playing host to a different style of forest. There’s an Amazonian type jungle room with crocodiles, tropical birds and fish, and a Laurentian forest room which plays host to North American wildlife. (Including a water area with seagulls… seemed a bit useless to add a room with seagulls, the damn things are all over - like pigeons - but I suppose that’s the point. :>)


Another thing to keep in mind, is that sometimes Montreal has what’s called Museum Day (not sure how many times a year they do this), and on this day most of the city’s museums are free. I think the Biodome has a cost to get in, but it seems that it might be free after a certain hour of the day, since we paid nothing to get in.


It costs $10 to go up the elevator in the tower of the Olympic stadium, which might be a bit pricey, but it’s really a lovely view of the whole city.


The beggars of Montreal don’t seem to beg; they just stand there with their hands out. It’s kind of nice in a way, since you don’t have people in your face begging for spare change, but it’s disturbing in other ways. I’m not quite sure why. I won’t give money to people who don’t ask me for it. I’ll gladly hand over change if you ask, though.


The city is also well-known for its underground city. These are a series of tunnels under the city that house shops and businesses of all sorts. It’s quite nice, but not necessarily an uncommon thing.


There are horse and buggy rides through old Montreal, but we didn’t take one. No idea how much they cost, but it probably isn’t what you’d term cheap. Horse and buggy rides never seem to be. There seem to be a few places where they start; two spots are in front of Notre Dame and then from a place on the port. (One of the IMAX theatres is on the port, by the way, and the other is on Rue St. Catherine.)


We didn’t get all the way up Mount Royal, as it started pouring rain half way through the walk (and I do mean pouring), so we had to turn back. If you like walking, and bear in mind this is uphill, it’s a nice walk up Stanley Street, past parts of McGill University, to the mountain. Watch out for the stone steps up the mountain itself, though; some of them need to be redone. Just a bit treacherous. :>


First thing to do when you hit the city, is buy a map. That’s a good idea for any city though. Get a map of the metro, too. We used a highlighter to mark off the train station and hostel, and other points we wanted to go to, so we could keep everything in perspective. The good thing about Montreal is that there are city maps all over the place. (street corners, metro stations, etc.), the bad thing is that some maps seem to be upside down; so I hope you have a good sense of direction. :>


Take a camera, take lots of film, wear comfy shoes, and go.


It’s a really nice city to spend a few days in.


There’s so much more to it than what little I’ve said, but there are some things I didn’t see, and then there are things that you just have to experience for yourself.


Addendum:


  • The weather during the trip can only be described as damp. It rained every bloody day. We’d go outside and say, “Ooh, not too bad out today,” and within five minutes of saying it… rain. :>


    It wasn’t at all cold though, which it has been in Ontario. Cold and wet don’t go together very well at all.



    In fact, the day we were walking up to Mount Royal, it was raining so hard that my hat was dripping purple drops. Some of my hair turned a bit purpley until I wiped it out. :>




  • Many of the streets of Montreal, particularly some of the crosswalks, are all paved with cobbles; which is kind of nice, but funny to walk over if you’re wearing thinly soled shoes. The big hazard for pedestrians are the drives. Crosswalk lights seem a touch haphazard, and the drivers there are much like the drivers in Paris it seems; don’t stand still or they’ll park on top of you!



  • The city is riddled with museums of all sorts; of particular note is one near the port which has an excation dig as part of its display. This shows a dig down through the city’s history, including old building remains and such.



  • The port itself seems to be overpopulated with several species of moths, which I found kind of odd, and yucky. (I hate bugs. All bugs. So I spent most of the walk through there keeping my mouth tightly shut. :>)



  • The city is not only good about its public maps, it’s also very good about garbage bins. They’re all over the place too. Very handy. They seem to take public cleanliness very seriously, which is something that some big cities either don’t, or can’t, do.



  • I think the oddest thing about some of the shops, is simple name changes. The Body Shop is called Le Body Shop, for example; it just seems kind of cute to change just the one word. :>



  • The city, as far as big cities go, isn’t terribly expensive; prices seemed the same as they are where I live. That might just be normal for Canada, though. I have no idea what the sales tax in Quebec is, but one thing that did seem to cost more was cigarettes; only by about 50 cents, though, but that still adds up. Milk seemed much cheaper, at least at the tabac I bought it from.



  • The metro cars were a bit more modern than what I remember Toronto’s being like. Some of the cars had little pixel boards that showed the next destination and connecting bus routes. They also had announcements of current stop and next stop. This is something they’ve only recently started in Toronto.




  • Max and I both thought that the windows of the Mariot hotel made it look like a beehive. We called it The Hive or The Collective.



  • Inside the tower of the Olympic stadium is a display of the major towers of the world. It’s quite nice. They show, to scale, etched outlines of the buildings, list locations, building facts, etc. It’s right across from the place where you buy your tickets to go up to the tower’s observation deck. Among the displayed towers are, of course, the CN Tower of Toronto, the Eiffel Tower of Paris, The BT Tower of London, and The Empire State Building of New York City.

May 29, 2001
#travel #journal
Camden and Crowes

Last year, during my visit to Blighty, I did the shopping trip to Camden Market for my DMs. I have said DMs, have just in fact taken them off, and bought (with Anna’s insistence) this lovely purple hat (somewhat like a woven bowler) with a yellow sunflower in it.

I love this hat. It’s now become an extension of my person. I cannot imagine life sans hat. Some months ago, sadly, the sunflower disappeared and I haven’t been able to find it.

Until now.

Amidst the flashing of lights the colours of lime soda and grape Kool-Aid, I found out where my flower went.

He steps out on stage wearing a purple hat Just Like Mine, and in it is proudly stuck a sunflower Just Like The One I Used To Have.

Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes stole my flower! The bastard!

Though the show kicked much ass, I still had the urge to jump on stage and demand my flower back. The rotter!

Noel and Liam Gallagher managed not to engage in fisticuffs, which was relieving. Apparently Noel set a list of rules for Liam before the tour started.

The Commandments According To Noel Gallagher

  1. Thou shalt not throw cigarettes at me.
  2. Thou shalt be in thy hotel room by midnight.
  3. Thou shalt not have any alcoholic beverage before 10 p.m.
  4. Thou shalt bring thy pregnant girlfriend on tour with thee.

This show, they covered I Am The Walrus, and I must admit that it was fab. Those boys make no bones about wearing their influences on their sleeves.

I was never an Oasis fan, and I can’t say I am now either, but my opinion’s certainly switched. It was a good show.

Now, how to get my flower back… (and rid myself of the stench of pot. Gawd I hate the smell of that stuff.)



This song was absolutely amazing live. It’s off the Black Crowes’ new album Lions, which I will most definitely be acquiring a copy of at my earliest opportunity.

Soul Singin’

I’ve been down
Cascading and blue without a sound
Now I’ve traded my black feathers for a crown
So feed me milk and honey lay me down
Lay me down
Look around

Show me holy places not yet found
Lets disappear and we’ll hide underground
And we’ll get high and we’ll feel safe and sound
It comes around
Around

Got my soul singing my soul singing
Soul singing got my soul singing
Got my soul singing my soul singing
Soul singing got my soul singing
Got my soul singing my soul singing
Soul singing got my soul singing
Got my soul singing my soul singing
Soul singing got my soul singing
Come on now come on now

Home bound
Tired of tired of running town to town
Tired of my heart turned upside down
Now my life a smile and not a frown
The sound
The sound

May 23, 2001
#music #journal #lyrics
That which does not kill me, only serves to make me laugh the next afternoon.

I think I’ve only once had a near-death experience (well, outside that time I almost choked on bacon fat, or the time the van hit me whilst I tried to cross the road to get to the subway in Toronto, or… wait, that’s actually more brushes with death than anyone needs), but the best one so far, has to be the song that nearly ended my life.


I was over a friend’s visiting for the weekend, and we’re fairly big Monty Python fans. This friend had a record of theirs that I’d never heard, so he put it on whilst I sat at the kitchen table painting, and he and his wife sat on the sofa doing whatever it is one does on sofas.


This song started. I started laughing. I started gasping for breath. Fairly soon I was literally on the floor gasping, trying to suck in breath, and not succeeding; tears streaming out of my eyes.


I have never laughed that hard in my life; not before or since. I suspect nothing will ever make me laugh that hard again. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I owe it all to this song:



The Medical Love Song - Monty Python


Inflammation of the foreskin
Reminds me of your smile
I’ve had balanital chancroids
For quite a little while
I gave my heart to NSU
That lovely night in June
I ache for you, my darling,
And I hope you’ll get well soon


My penile warts, your herpes,
My syphilitic sore,
Your monilial infection
How I miss you more and more
Your *dobies itch my *scrum-pox
Ah, lovely gonorrhea
At least we both were lying
When we said that we were clear


My clapped-out genitalia
Is not so bad for me
As the complete and utter failure
Every time I try to pee
I’m dying from your love, my love,
I’m your spirochetal clown
I’ve left my body to science,
But I’m afraid they’ve turned it down


Gonococcal urethritis
Streptococcal balanitis
Meningomyelitis
*Diplococcal *catholitis
Epidydimitis
Interstitial keratitis
Syphilitic coronitis
And anterior *ureitis.


May 9, 2001
#music #journal #lyrics
War is over, in the land of hope.
The trouble with living next to a restaurant with a patio, is that when you walk past it to go to the store, you hear people’s conversations. Some people speak just that much too loudly that lets you know they intend to be overheard.


Man: “The time for war is past.”


Is it now? Is it really? I’m sure thousands upon thousands of people worldwide, might take a very personal exception to that statement. Particularly those living in current warzones. Ya think? Perhaps daily doses of stories relating to violance on a multi-national scale, violence in homes, violence in shools with young people offing each other in a vain attempt to ‘get back’ for bullying, have escaped this man’s notice.


Perhaps his vision of war is so narrow, that he only sees the great wars as wars. Perhaps he is of the sort that labels Korea in the 50’s a police action, as the US government did.


Perhaps he should consider enlarging his worldview just that much more that it will allow him to see that the time for war is far from being over, and is far from over in many places around the globe.


Perhaps it was only a wish on his part, but the tone of his voice suggested otherwise. A yuppy trying to sound like a coffee-house intellectual.


I wish that war was not so prevalent, don’t get me wrong, but I’m on the ball enough to realise that this mythical time of it being over, is not going to occur within my lifetime, and perhaps not for several generations to follow, and perhaps never.


I think it shows a definite shift in our consciousness, though I’m not sure of what, that our science fiction has gone from showing all alien races as EITHER totally peaceful (a pinnacle for which we strive?), OR totally violent and ready to excise humanity from the big blue marble; to showing alien races in a mixture. Some like us, some not, but all with that mixture of peace, and war, and striving for balance. I think that the soap opera of Babylon 5 was more accurate than the fairytale of Star Trek: The Next Generation. But is that a natural shift, I wonder; or is it just us giving in to the truth that we are what we are as human animals?

May 3, 2001
#journal
I like to pollute my body.
Way I see it, I’m going to die eventually (or so they tell me), so I’m going to enjoy myself while I’m on the slippery slope to nature’s ultimate sleep.


Right now I’m drinking Coke, eating Pringles chips, and smoking. (Well, not smoking and eating at the same time. That’s just disgusting.) I enjoy beer, probably a bit too much when I’m down the pub, I don’t exercise (much), and I like red meat.


I need my vices. Everyone’s entitled to at least one. I have a few low-grade vices to make up for not being addicted to sex or alcohol. (Not for lack of having tried mind, but I won’t clarify which one.)


I make up by being addicted to Formula One, smoking, and my daily bottle of Coke.


Oh sweet dearie damn me, how could I forget this: Black tea. With milk. None of that heathen sugar added. Sugar in tea is just… revolting.

May 2, 2001
#tea #journal
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