It would be impossible for me to love this little guy any more than I do. My wee Monty was meant to be a part of my life. He is the perfect faithful companion through thick and thin, always full of exuberant joy and wearing a contagious smile.
Also, he kinda looks like a seal.
Upon reviewing the revised bucket list I wrote for myself back in 2014, I feel like I've accomplished much. I've climbed a mountain. I've learned how to cook at least one dish. I'm taking French classes (still in hopeful, wistful preparation of that dream move).
I write. I photograph. I create. I savour. I share.
I live.
What I contribute to the wall of noise might not always find an audience, but that is never the intention. My art, in whatever form it takes, is always primarily for me. It is a living journal of moments and memories that have shaped who I am, chronicling people and places that I never want to let time erase.
After a year of adventure, I now contemplate where inspiration will next influence my life.
I have a pretty good understanding and confidence of self. But after times of great reminisce, I now want to learn more of my past. Of his past. Of their past.
The Clague lineage.
London is calling.
Rogues, Rascals, and Scalawags Too
Written by Jim Christy
I bought this book because bold people fascinate me. In one tale, the author recollects upon a number of "urban fauna" he has encountered while traveling across Canada. One individual in particular stood out to me, as I swear I came across the same person in Winnipeg in the early noughts: a mature woman always dressed to the nines no matter the setting. The first time I observed her was in Portage Place mall. On that occasion, she wore bright yellow ski pants paired with a blue-and-white striped bathing suit, clearly bracing for any and all weather conditions that could arise. Her face was spackled with the thickest layer of stage make-up I had ever seen in my life; all wayward black eyeliner and ruby red lips pursed in a slight smirk as she surveyed over her subjects in the food court. Oddly, no one paid her any attention. I was mesmerized. And intrigued.
The second time I crossed paths with this unique creature, she was exiting a public bus but could have been stepping off the pages of The Great Gatsby. She wore a black sequined evening dress, carried a feathered stole, and had one of those long cigarette holders from a time when smoking was considered glamourous. Every step she took in her heels appeared laborious. I wasn't sure if it was because she had a difficult time walking or just wanted to give her public more time to breathe her in. Eventually she made it inside the Wal-Mart. When I mentioned this person to a colleague, they informed me that she was well-known local character and that all of the older gentlemen in the seniors home she resided tried to court her.
Be bold, be bold, and everywhere be bold.
Favorite line: "those with mundane lives insist on questioning the validity of those whose lives are remarkable."
Listen to the Squawking Chicken
Written by Elaine Lui
I regularly read the author's gossip blog, LaineyGossip.com, as the writing is smart and focuses more on the sociological reflection Hollywood imposes rather than straight conjecture. Her first book, a memoir (sort of), discusses her relationship with her mother affectionately dubbed the "squawking chicken" because of her loud, blunt way of speaking. The book is very enjoyable, its tone witty and conversational while full of insight towards the dynamics of mother-daughter relationships and Eastern philosophy.
Favourite line: "This force of a woman, with the most indomitable spirit I have ever known, a phoenix seemingly undefeatable, didn't want me to be like her at all."
How Paris Became Paris
Written by Joan DeJean
Before I begin this review, I must state that I have bias. My career path is in the design field and Paris is one of the great loves of my life. This book explores, in depth, the role that brilliant, innovative civil engineering coupled with a determination to be the very best has resulted in the city earning (and deserving of) the reputation as the greatest in the world. Joan DeJean is a master with verse, complementing historical overview with engaging asides.
I could not put this book down. I now want to track down the author's other works. Highly recommended.
Favourite line: "Technology and urban planning had thus created the notion of a cityscape, an urban landscape, a magnificent scene made by man rather than nature. Paris had no longer just an isolated monument or two worthy of contemplation ... When viewed from the [Pont Neuf} bridge, the Seine became a beautiful sight, and the complete urban footprint, the landscape of Paris, became a masterpiece."
I wish I would have had more to write about regarding my holiday in Dubai but ... I've been struggling. Despite its showiness – despite its commitment to extreme opulence, grandeur and the biggest/tallest everything – I found the city lacking in practicality, culture and, ultimately, heart.
I felt like I traveled half way around the world to visit things I could see in my backyard. Mind you, they were bigger, taller, SHINIER things than what are in my background, but still. I didn't depart with a positive lasting impression. I have no yearning to return.
At the end of the day, it ranks near the bottom of the list when it comes to my favorite destinations.
Maybe I'm just bitter I didn't get to drive a shiny, metallic green Ferrari.
I spent my final days away from the towering, glittering skyscrapers of which the city wants to be known and instead strolled through the traditional markets of Deira, repeatedly riding the abra and feasting at the Arabian Tea House Café, my favorite restaurant in Dubai. It was a relaxing time spent wandering about at my leisure, observing and participating in the theatre of the streets of the Old City.
At one of the market stalls, I was drawn in by a beautiful teal embroidered robe. I paused to admire it and ended up with an invitation by the owner to share chai and traditional sweets. I accepted the offer, fully aware it was a ploy to get me to buy but also an opportunity for me to gain insight on real life in the U.A.E. In between haggling on price, we talked.
I learned that the owner moved to Dubai from northern India after graduating with a degree in Business. The market stall he operated was a venture he planned to operate for just a few years, earning enough profit to help his family with back home. He was eager to return to India though. The original allure of the big city had dissipated. Dubai was expensive. The promise of riches it teased with was not as forthcoming as originally believed. The hustle-and-bustle was not for him; nor was the fact that, despite contributing to the economy and development of the nation, he would forever be an outsider there. I told him of my experiences over the previous two weeks and, after listening intently, he welcomed me to visit his home province one day to be shown real hospitality.
After an hour in the shop, I eventually got the robe, and a second one, along with a beautiful cashmere scarf for the price I was seeking.
If you're tired of traditional photo filters, there is a new app that can help take your selfies to the next level. Prisma turns images into works of art in the style of Mondrian, Lichtenstein or even modern anime. The results are pretty amazing.
It is currently only available for iOS, with an Android version slated for release at the end of the month. You can download it here.
Impromptu photoshoot with Dr. Blain Paul (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Barack Obama in person). To view more portraits, click here.
I've debated writing about some of the negative experiences both my friend and I encountered while in Dubai, but I'm not sure what purpose it would serve. There are good and not-so-good people everywhere. A terrible experience can be had abroad or at home. Besides, the scariest situation I've found myself was in my favorite place in the world, France.
Reading outdoors by my lonesome in Paris, several German men approached and surrounded me. Their harassment escalated from a seemingly innocent "hello, bonjour" to having them repeat the phrase "____ my ____, bitch" over and over again for what seemed like an eternity (but was probably closer to around three minutes). I sat still, my eyes lasered on the book I was then pretending to read, deep in frantic contemplation about what I would do if their words evolved to action. After getting no response, they finally departed (perhaps assuming I was deaf and taking pity on me). I left the scene as quickly as I could.
Men don't really have to deal with this while traveling.
Or in life, in general.
I suppose my surprise with Dubai was that the harassment came from women and not men.
My first day alone, I decided to hit up the beach. From my hotel, there was a free shuttle to Jumeriah which is the public swimming area close to the Burj Al Arab. It was one of THE most spectacular stretches of sand I had ever seen. The water was a stunning aqua-marine and crystal clear, which was great because I have severe paranoia about swimming in open bodies of water where I can't see what's brushing up against me. Surprisingly, there were very few people on it. I had my own vast personal space, the closest beach bum near me was at least 100 yards away. In lieu of this paradise, everyone seemed to congregate at Atlantis Resort.
A few days prior, my friend and I visited the resort which is located on the edge of Palm Island, a modern marvel of marine construction that has added 520 sq.km of private beachfront to the city of Dubai. It's pretty amazing for something constructed by man solely of sand and rock; from the air, I imagine you get a real sense of scale. From ground-level though, all that is visible are endless multi-million dollar residences and hordes of tourists clamouring to cool down at the Atlantis waterpark and/or grab a bite to eat at a restaurant bearing Gordon Ramsay's name.
The two things that stood outmost for me were:
1) This creepy Michael Jackson doll in one of the gift shops:
2) The foreign workers toiling in the heat. Much has been written about the UAE, its lack of basic human rights for migrant workers, and various labour injustices that some characterize as modern day slavery. I cannot, for certain, state that anyone I observed faced this plight. But I was cognizant that much of this future megalopolis was built off the backs of those leaving their loved ones behind to seek greater opportunity, often propelled by blind hope and faith, and often not being allowed to integrate into the place they are serving.
Rumour: you will never see a published picture of the Burj Al Arab from the vantage point of the Persian Gulf because its construction forms the largest crucifix in the Middle East (a detail not realized until near completion).
