Reasons to Visit Winnipeg #1: The Food

Back in my hometown for a bit. I spent the first 29 years of my life here complaining about how it never changed. How it seemed to be stuck in a rut of mediocrity and crime and white leather tassled purses masquerading as local haute couture, the days blurring into each other with an endless soundtrack loop of Loverboy and Kim Mitchell until one wasn't sure if it was 2007 or 1983. A series of fortunate events led me to leave after years of threatening to do so...not that the city (or anyone else) cared. When you're from Winnipeg, it stays in your bones forever; it's an accepted fact that you will have a cross to bear. But the geographical change was good for both of us. When I return now I'm not entirely sure if the past were a mirage constructed by my own imagination or if I'm only recently seeing through rose-tinted glasses.

Winnipeg, modern Winnipeg at least, is great in moderate doses. In the years since I've left in 2010, the city has seen the return of its beloved Jets, built a beautiful new stadium for the undeserving Bombers, finally completed the first leg of a rapid transit system, is demonstrating that they understand the meaning of the word "world-class" when building musems and making upgrades to urban green space, and got an IKEA (people may think this is not worthy of mention, but it - along with other international brands setting up shop here - demonstrates a healthy economy which is something to praise in addition to having easily attainable Kolsyrad Pärondryck). The next few posts will serve to remind me of Winnipeg's greatness and hopefully get you thinking about visiting and discovering it for yourself. Can't promise you that "Patio Lanterns" won't play on the radio during your stay though. 

Without a doubt, the greatest reason to visit Winnipeg is the food. No matter what you are craving, #YWG has it. Pizza isn't just pizza...it's a religious experience at places like Santa Lucia and Mister B's. The Asian cuisine at restaurants like Four Seasons and Palatal will elevate your taste buds to shangri-la. The decor (and refined menu) in a classic joint like Rae and Jerry's will have you questioning if the man in the booth opposite is Don Draper. And dessert is never spared; the Queen of England herself is treated to cakes from Jeannie's Bakery and imperial cookies from High Tea Bakery when she visits. I've noticed so many new restaurants (and now food trucks) I want to try during this stay that I may not get to my favorites. Or I may return to Saskatoon 20lbs heavier. Not sure if I packed my stretchy pants. 

There is a unique cultural fusion in all aspects of River City dining. Fast food or a slow, sit down meal, from a truck or at a diner, I'm launching the debate and stating that Winnipeg has the best food in all of Canada. Bon appetite! 

Die Maschine

This week in #YXE, a well regarded local music venue closed its doors. I'd never been to Lydia's, but it's location on Broadway Avenue (aka "hipster boulevard") reminded me of my younger years spent at Die Maschine Cabaret, my personal bar of choice located on Winnipeg's own hipster boulevard Osborne.

Before the internet became what it is today, teenagers used to frequent traditional media - like television and radio - in ways that made qualitative research more predictable than the wild west of marketing today. I was no exception, often spending my pre-18th birthday evenings in my bedroom strumming my guitar pretending to be Courtney Love while listening to 92 CITI FM. Most of the music they played was crap but there was one hilarious DJ (oxymoron?) that I enjoyed listening to, and after his shift another DJ came on that played obscure music by indie bands that didn't fit into the normal Van Halen/Guns 'N Roses/Metallica setlist. This is where I was introduced to Die Maschine as the radio show would often take place there. This would soon become my scene.  

Being 18 and trekking to Osborne was a bit of work for someone who grew up in the French neighborhood of St. Norbert, located at the most southern end of the city. Bus service was always shite (especially after-hours) and my car was totalled a few years prior when I hit black ice and flipped it into a ditch. So the planning took work but the experience of getting out of the 'burbs and into the urban safari that Osborne was back in its pre-gentrification day was well worth it. I was always still in Winnipeg but it wasn't the Winnipeg I knew; it felt exotic and different and dangerous. There was tons of graffiti, transvestites in regalia heading to their own scene and a drug dealer on every corner (it should be noted that my obsession with Courtney Love never extended this far though). The bar itself was modelled after CBGBs in New York, I believe: a complete dive with toilets that made one contemplate - and often choose - to use the back alley. I never stayed until closing, as I did not dare want to see what it looked like when the lights came on. When the lights were dimmed however, it was awesome. 

My favorite night to partake in Die Maschine debauchery was Thursday, as that was Brit-pop night, or at Halloween when everyone dressed up. I recall my friends and I going as zombie Spice Girls one year. I was Posh. I also recall, on more than one occasion oddly, walking back to my friend's apartment in downtown Winnipeg at 3:00am not wearing any shoes. It's amazing I never developed gangrene. Ah, youth. Sweet idiotic youth. The story that has now overtaken any memories of my own though is that of a DJs dead body being discovered in the walls of the bar. It was there for over a year, undiscovered until a waitress noted the foul odour coming from the toilets was more rank than usual. Told you the back alley was better.  

Anyway, unlike Lydia's which is moving to another part of Saskatoon, Die Maschine closed its doors a few years ago for good. 

It's now an American Apparel.  

Go!

One of the major projects I worked on this year was the annual Preview (2014-2015) for SIAST. Acting as art director/designer, my initial thematic concepts were "Sin City" meets "Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band" but I mostly wanted it to stand out from the crowd of clichéd academic marketing materials. Here's hoping it - and all associated projects related to its design - goes far in serving that purpose. 

Three Dog Life

There is a memoir called A Three Dog Life (by Abigail Thomas) that details how three pets - each with a unique personality and therefore different purpose in her own evolution - aided the author through abstract darkness and internal struggle. The penmenship made me think of the canine companions that I've had in my own life: Pepper, Reggie and Monty.  

When I was younger, I was terribly afraid of dogs after witnessing my father being attacked by one in Wall Drug, South Dakota (the BEST spot for roadside kitsch in the continental U.S. of A.). So when he called my mother from work one day to say he found a puppy that he was going to bring home, I was not feeling it. I spent the afternoon whining, too stressed to continue playing my beloved Nintendo and thinking "damnit, I had always wanted a kitten!". I braced for him to arrive home with the monster...and then there he was. With a tiny box. And inside, a tiny weeks-old border collie puppy that my father discovered abandoned in a boxcar at CP Rail where he was employed. The dog was left alone with a small dish of water (which happened to be frozen over as this was February) and nothing else. My initial hesitation ceased within seconds; this guy was staying. 

I started to think of names for the wee pup, "Jumper" being one I liked early on. I have no idea why in retrospect but hey, I was 8. My parents told me perhaps I should think of a few more names, which is really a nice way of saying "that one is shite". Being now employed in a profession where people judge what I do on a daily basis, this was a nice introduction to the world of receiving critical feedback. Thus, after a few monikers that failed the endurance test, "Pepper" was settled on. Although every dog I have adopted since has also adopted a slew of nicknames. Just ask Monty, AKA "Montgomery C. Beans", AKA "Meatsauce", AKA "DJ Freshie Fresh", AKA "Teddies", AKA "Tiddlywinks", AKA...you get the picture. I swear to god, he responds to all of them and so did Pepper. 

Pepper and I in Yellowstone National Park in 1991: 


Being an only child who was (and still is) naturally a bit of a loner, Pepper really made me come out of my shell. He was a companion when I had no other and that means a lot to a kid. There was also something unique about him: he had six toes on all of his paws. During a family camping trip to the Pacific Northwest in '94, a curious incident occurred regarding this. We were in Seattle shopping at Pike's Place Market when a fortuneteller - yes, a fortuneteller, gypsy scarves and all - left her shop to approach us and state that the dog would bring us good luck because of this overabundance of digits. We always wonder how she knew this as from within her storefront it would have been difficult to even see Pep's paws (she wasn't seeking financial remuneration for this nugget of news either). Cue Twilight Zone music. Luck comes in different forms though; Pepper definitely enriched all of our lives and he was lucky himself living a very healthy (and spoiled) 17.5 years. 

Dealing with death and grieving was something he also taught me. Pepper was my sidekick from the age of 8 to 25, the most developmental years of anyone's life. He was there through elementary school to graduating college, from first jobs to first boyfriends, supporting me silently through good decisions to comforting me after making terribly bad ones. As his health started to deteriorate in 2005, I knew that I would not only be bidding adieu to my best friend but also an era of my life. When the day came to close that door, I knew it was time. My father held Pepper on their deck before heading to the vet. When I walked outside to join them, Pepper must have sensed me and looked over in my direction for what seemed like an eternity. He was nearly blind at that point and I like to think this was his way of telepathically communicating to me that he was ready and it would be okay. It eventually was, but in the moment there is nothing harder than saying goodbye. I still miss him. 

One week later, I went to a no-kill rescue shelter near my home in Winnipeg and met a wee guy that wasn't a border collie, but rather a lab-X that looked very much looked like Pepper (sans the extra toes). He had a ball in his cage that he would repeatedly bring to me, coaxing me to play fetch. During this period of my life, I was self-employed and while I had a ton of work to do, playing fetch was given top priority that afternoon. Heck, it was my birthday after all. And heck, because of this, I decided to adopt him. Right place, right time for both of us. 

There was no second-guessing on this one's name...with his raven hair he was a "Reggie", named after a character in the Archie comics pantheon with similar physical features. It just so happens that this character is also the biggest jerk in the Riverdale universe and little did I know how apt the tribute would eventually turn out to be - I love Reggie with all my heart, but at times he can be the most ornery, entitled dog shamelessly pilfering food off my plate as though he's starving, stealing my spot on the couch as though his dog bed is made of nails and always miserably howling at me when I scold him. This brings me to the next life lesson I received through canine intervention: to not be so ornery and entitled myself. For Reggie and I are truly two peas in a pod: headstrong, stubborn, ambitious and often craving steak. He's also incredibly intelligent and well-versed in machiavellianism; that playtime at the no-kill was the last time he played fetch with me. Having said that, he is THE most loyal and protective to a fault. Less a pet, more a bodyguard. The five years I had him, he was my shadow. Stealing my spot on the couch, yes...but in another viewpoint, warming it up. 

Reggie, the day I brought him home: 

In 2010, I moved west and couldn't take him with me. He was too big to be accepted into any apartment and I wasn't sure how he would adjust from his familiar surroundings & not having someone around all day. My parents have since adopted him. Whenever I visit, Reggie is happy to see me (and still bearish) but now he has someone else vying for attention and leftovers. This guy (check out those eyeballs, they're bigger than mine): 

A few weeks before I officially moved to Saskatoon, I visited the city to scope out apartments. Each morning in my hotel room, I would watch "Let's Make a Deal" (millennial version with Wayne Brady). I had never seen it before and quickly became hooked at how unapologetically cheesy it was. Monty Hall, of course, was the original host and also a famous Winnipegger. There are few, we cling to every one; be thankful I didn't name my next dog after Burton Cummings or this guy (whatever his name is). Thus before even getting a new postal code, I decided that my next dog would be called Monty, a great bridge between my former home and new one (by way of a syndicated gameshow).

With my eventual "Monty", I definitely won a prize. He is the Kate Moss of Canines™, a photogenic mutt that preens for the camera and is always happy & smiling. The most gentle soul on the planet, he is a real life teddy bear. Where Reggie never retrieved his ball after that initial encounter, Monty always does...and even shares his treats, placing them on or near me as though he is saying "what's mine is yours". Parents never admit to having a favorite child (in my instance, they had no choice) but I'm sure they all secretly do. Come on! There is always one that is less bratty and/or always eats their vegetables without hiding them around the house and/or doesn't smell of cheese. Monty is definitely the most special of my pets, probably because he's the one that needs ME the most. Everyone needs to feel wanted. This was especially important after moving to a new town in a new province where I didn't know a soul. Pepper and Reggie were very independent. Monty is a baby always at my ankles and curled up on my lap. There was even one time when I was napping on the couch and he laid down to sleep on my face leaving me choking on white fur. In retrospect, this may have been attempted murder for not filling his Kong but I digress. Monty completed the circle in teaching me about being selfless. 

That is my own three dog life so far and if that's all I get, it will have been perfect. There is much to be said about the positive influence a canine companion can bring. Most importantly, making me realize that cats are the inferior species. 

Vietnam Gallery updated

New images from my deployment to Vietnam in 2011 have been added to the gallery. Check them out by clicking here. All images copyrighted to SIAST (Saskatchewan Institute of Applied Science and Technology). 

TOUR de France (Part VIII): Fini

The final week of my spring holiday in France included rushing through every remaining region, just so that I could say I properly did the entire country. It's amazing how much the climate changes from the Côte d'Azur to the Alps. In the span of a few hours, I went from laying on a beach in the Riveria pondering the age at which my doctor would inform me that I have skin cancer to piling on the layers under my winter coat while freezing in Grenoble. There is a severe lack of pictures from my time in this particular region as I was too cold and miserable to want to exit the vehicle, but I did drive through some pretty little towns. I stopped to get a baguette somewhere...the baker was friendly and seemed genuinely surprised - and pleased - that a tourist was traveling through his tiny hamlet (and the bread was still as delicious as any in Paris; quality is never spared in this country). 

I decided to spend a few days in the north-east region for a bit, traveling through Champagne (I had already purchased a bottle of bubbly from Maxim's Paris for a special occasion) and entering Belgium to see my paternal grandmother's hometown of Ypres. I didn't get far into the country as Ypres is close to the border, but I immediately noticed how different it looked. Whereas France seemed to retain most of its historic architecture, Belgium appeared to have been physically devastated by WWII with the vast majority of buildings constructed in the post-war style. Having previously visited England (where my paternal grandfather's lineage is from) and, of course, France (where my mother's famille is from), it was interesting to complete the tour of family history. How the heck did I end up in Saskatchewan?  

Since I am a Disneyphile and I was in France, how could I not visit EuroDisney Disneyland Paris?! I'm glad I did, but it was shite. The line-ups were insane (you'd think I would have learned by now), the major rides kept breaking down, there were hardly any restaurants open, and European children manage to be even more annoying than North American ones. Having said that, the version of rides that I did manage to get on were far superior to their North American counterparts. For example: the Haunted Mansion (here called Phantom Manor) is creepy as all hell with visuals that wouldn't have been out of place in a Wes Craven movie. My favorite ride - Space Mountain - also had the least amount of wait-time. I pretty much went on it 50 times.  

After saying "au revoir" to Mickey and company, I knew my trip was almost over. I was sad that I had to depart but thankful for all of the magic that I encountered. This is the great thing about travel: how it changes your mood, perspective and life. I recall being a depressed twenty-something not knowing where I was going in life and questioning the meaning of it all. At the age of 27 I decided to really start exploring the world and now I'm an only occassionally depressed thirty-something who no longer questions the meaning of it all, as it is beautiful and ugly and divine. As it's meant to be. 

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for all of Paris is a moveable feast.” - Ernest Hemingway

The odometer on my Peugeot when I returned it: 

Designer Magazine

Check out the Summer 2013 issue of Designer to read an article I wrote on finding creative inspiration in Japan. Also includes a portion of my portfolio featuring one of my favorite cities in the world, the neon safari otherwise known as Tokyo. Enjoy!