Not My Blog
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
In the airport, in the airport, see those kiddies roar by, as the air cops check rumps for explosives . . . I arrive at YVR approximately 14 hours before my flight. Perhaps this will ensure I get through Security in time. Question: can one surreptitiously perform yoga poses in the USA-bound terminal without exciting the SWAT teams? Look, officer, it's the eagle pose--I promise I'm not trying to merge the accelerant taped to one thigh with the vial of nitroglycerine up my bottom. Really. I'm just going through hot yoga withdrawal.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Honolulu awaits. Tonight I leave for Vancouver. Tomorrow I leave for Honolulu. Between those two events is an overnighter at the Vanc. Int'l. Airport. Before those events is a buttload of cleaning and packing, last-minute chores, yoga, repacking, and of course riotous cussing. I don't know why, these days, that I approach every vacation as thought it were my execution. I really DO want to go to Honolulu. Really I do.
But I bet that having to pick up goat chow on departure day puts me in a fairly small subset of Hawaii visitors.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Oh, OF COURSE this happened. I cave and buy a ticket to "The Messiah" at the university. Turns out I have purchased one of the last tickets--both performances were sold out. So I'm seated pretty much next to the soprano section of the choir, high above the stage, and next to me is a plank of elderly concert goers. There is some chatting at times during the solos, but so far, not bad for a Victoria concert. Until, of course, the "Hallelujah" chorus commences. So carried away by Handel's majestic music, the two ladies next to me start warbling away at the culminating moment. They are not singers, and this is not the sing-along Messiah. But this IS Victoria, the city where the obits make sense (it's rare to see a notice for someone under 70), and the coots are chatty across all venues and times. What did surprise me? That I found this more funny than aggravating, despite having the glorious moment of my favourite oratorio plum ruint by two old batfaces. It's Handel's fault, really, for writing so stirring a chorus.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
The fiddliest bit of getting this carcass off the Island and on its way to Honolulu is, would you believe, getting a bus to the ferry terminal. Oh sure, taxi taxi taxi, yes, there are one or two taxis in this city. And there's a coach service to the Vancouver Int'l. Airport (my destination), but trying to catch that mother is even fussier than the transit option. Hitchhike? Don't think I haven't considered it. Perhaps I'll have figured something out by December 28th, which is when I have to make my way mainlandward. Nik and Dani are flying to Honolulu from Victoria, and I envy them profoundly.
That having been groused: HAWAII! ME! SURFING! Or trying to, anyhow.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Downward Facing Ducks: Or, we try to win a year's free hot yoga by entering a "Yoga around Victoria" photo contest put on by the yoga studio.
How about "Half Moon with Disinterested Horse?"
Note: no farm animals were injured during this filming process. Well, except for their dignity.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
What we done learned. Sure, spend 5-10 minutes herding the seven ducks back into their pen each evening, which involves intricate footwork, quick reflexes and endless patience, since ducks don't really *get* the herding point and are usually just running for their lives. Or lose your temper and stomp back up to the duck pen to scatter their teatime kibble, the hell with the goddamned birds, only to find all seven ducks promptly following you into the pen. Which they have done every day since then, and often anticipate my arrival, arranging themselves in the pen for optimum kibble consumption. DUCKS. I love ducks.
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