This view of London's skyscrapers piercing through the cloud top gave me chills as I descended into London, England on January 23:
The Shard, at 95 storeys, is the tallest building in the United Kingdom.
🇬🇧
As I visit the motherland, I reflect upon things I love about Great Britain:
ACCENTS: There are a number of regional accents one encounters while traveling throughout the United Kingdom. The scouse intonation of Liverpool is a sharp contrast to the posh cadence of London's uppercrust. I love it all, even though I might not always understand it. I recall an incident from the last time I was in England, 2007, when my father and I went into a restaurant in Lowestoft, a small coastal town on the easternmost edge of the country. As the waitress warmly greeted us, with what I suspected were the daily specials, my father turned to me, puzzled, and whispered "I have no idea what she's saying."
Well, neither did I. But I turned to her and ordered the safest bet "two fish-and-chips, please" (which ended up being delicious).
On this trip, I am most looking forward to hearing the Manx accent, as my ancestral home is the Isle of Man.
MEN'S FASHION: Men in London dress well. Really well. It's as though they believe meeting the Queen herself at the supermarket is a possibility and therefore must always be donning a clean pressed suit. It's glorious and a huge contrast to the much more relaxed land of flannel and denim that is North America.
IDRIS ELBA IN A SUIT: On that note, take a moment to appreciate the most handsome British male wearing the shit out of this suit. Sigh.
CORGIS: When I'm having a bad day, I image search corgi puppies. INSTANT mood elevator. I am so thankful to live in a world with dogs.
MUSIC SCENE: There's something in the water when it comes to British musicians. Some of the most iconic, influential artists have come from the island nation. Their songbooks – ranging from a variety of genres – have played much of the soundtrack to my life. Even part of my name is derived from "Beatlemania"; my mother was/is a HUGE Beatles fan (and is probably still in love with Paul McCartney to this day, tbh). Her own background is French and wanted one of my names to reflect this heritage. Enter my first connection to the Fab Four and their 1964 track, "Michelle", off the Revolver album which my mother chose as my middle name.
Secondly, the name of my creative services business was obviously an ode. It is the perfect nonsensical life mantra. Life goes on.
And while they may not be direct family lineage, two individuals with the surname Clague have, in turn, influenced The Beatles. John Lennon's mother, Julia, was unfortunately killed in a vehicular accident during the former Beatles teenage years by an Eric Clague of Liverpool. Her passing is considered by many to be the catalyst that led to his expression of emotion through song and the eventual formation of the beloved group.
Then, while doing genealogy research last week, I came across this:
Who knows if it is something but the interconnectivity of it all and possibility that a family member may have indirectly influenced the creation of some of the greatest songs in modern history makes my imagination run wild.
LEMON CURD: I don't even really know what curd is but it's delicious and one of my favourite desserts is to stir it into vanilla-flavoured yogurt.
CADBURY: And on the dessert note, Cadbury is FAR superior to Hershey's. Like ...
LITRATURE: It is of course a result of history being written by the victors (or perhaps the more controversial term "oppressors") that our language and educational system in the west is heavily influenced by England and the artists, poets, and scribes that called it home. The older I get, the more I invest in learning about world literature but the magical, transcendent works of Shakespeare, Austen, Doyle, Rowling and numerous others still resonate the human experience across time and space.
Just one more for good measure:
Book Recommendations
Bad Girls Throughout History
Written by Ann Shen
Between recent world events and my own personal history, I have been in need of female inspiration. This book details, through brief but impactful biographies and whimsical illustration, the lives of one hundred women who dreamed and dared to go beyond what was expected of them to change the world. From warriors (Ching Shih) to queens (Elizabeth I), actresses (Dorothy Dandridge) to adventurers (Amelia Earhart), "Bad Girls Throughout History" documents a different side of human existence that is all too often cast aside in favour of the male gaze. My new goal in life is to make the second edition.
Favourite line: I appreciated the introduction to journalist Nellie Bly and Disney artist Mary Blair.
The Girl With the Lower Back Tattoo
Written by Amy Schumer
I bought this book for my best friend who is obsessed with Amy Schumer. She read it in two days and then passed it back to me with an enthusiastic review. I also devoured and absolutely loved it. In this collection of essays (billed as a "non-memoir"), Amy shares moments that shaped her life in a frank, confessional style of writing that is entertaining, insightful and empowering. I was surprised to read that the seemingly brash comedian is a workaholic introvert at heart who values solitude. We'd probably be friends.
Favourite line: "So much has changed about me since I was that confident, happy girl in high school. In the years since then, I've experienced a lot of desperation and self-doubt, but in a way, I've come full circle. I know my worth."
Alexander McQueen: Evolution
Written by Katherine Gleason
For Christmas, my best friend got me this beautiful coffee table book on the life and work of one of the greatest designers of the past century, Alexander McQueen. It includes a condensed biography on the man, myth and legend and focuses more on his output and the theatre of his collections. The themes of life, death and sex are a common thread throughout his complex, visually stimulating art.
Favourite line: my favourite fashion show of all time is 2004's "Deliverance".
Your Occasional Monty
Me standing at the heavily fortified border crossing between North and South Korea (2015).
Atlas Obscura
I wrote about Atlas Obscura in the My Favourite Things of the Year post. The book is SO awesome, I rush home every day after work to lose myself in its nearly 500 pages (yes, I'm a nerd in case that wasn't already apparent). The writing style is so engaging, the subject matter so fascinating, that I cannot recommend it enough. I am already planning travels around it.
The book – and website it's based on – focus on lesser-known curiosities around the globe. Prior to reading it, I had never heard of the longplayer in London, England (a musical recording arranged in such a way that the variations will never repeat for one thousand years; listen to it digitally here); Mount Roraima, Venezuela (an unbelievably beautiful flat top mountain with its own unique ecosystem); or Centralia, Pennsylvania (seriously, WTF?).
My immersion in this tome has me contemplating my own travels. In particular, moments I've experienced that have stayed with me and formed a part of who I've become. They weren't always the main event. They often involved a chance encounter with someone who, in a way they will never realize, has impacted my life profoundly.
These are some of the global experiences I've had that resulted in memories of a lifetime:
6) Making friends with a stranger in Frankfurt Airport (2016): earlier this year, I traveled to Dubai. It hasn't been my favourite destination. All the flashy buildings and endless shopping malls proved too superficial for my tastes. However, the journey did result in meeting someone that I think of often. It happened during a stopover at Frankfurt Airport. A friendly woman from Chennai, India struck up conversation with me as we waited for our Toronto-bound flight. We talked for hours like old friends, it was almost as if the thread of our bond was pre-existing. She told me of her family. I told her of my future plans to visit her country (with her even offering to be my tour guide and lend a place to stay). It can become lonely traveling solo, so these types of interactions always elicit joy in me. We became separated after landing at YYZ and while she did leave a voicemail message for me afterwards, it was sadly without a return number. On the very slim chance she is reading this, please give me another call or send an email. You are an amazing woman that I'd love to reconnect with.
5) Driving through the Canadian Rockies in the dead of winter (2001): it was a late December drive from Banff to Edmonton. The days were already short during this time of year, but the shadow of the mountains decreased them even further until all one saw were shapes moving in the darkness. And stars. Thousands (millions!) of stars overhead. We were the only ones on the road, save for the herds of elk illuminated only by moonlight that took the lack of vehicular traffic to wander where they once couldn't roam. This drive made me realize how truly stunning my home and native land is, even with the lights off.
4) Relaxing at a Japanese spa theme park (2015): My excursion to Japan in 2015 was memorable for a number of reasons, the main one being I CLIMBED A FREAKIN' MOUNTAIN. But that is the expected answer. The following day was also legendary. It may take strength, fortitude and deep belief in one's self to accomplish climbing a 12,000+ ft peak, but it takes all of that and more to be stark bloomin' naked in front of dozens of staring strangers at a Japanese onsen.
3) Scavi Tour, Vatican (2011): Few people know of this very exclusive tour of the underground necropolis beneath Saint Peter's Basilica and even fewer get to go on it. By chance (and perhaps luck), my father and I had the opportunity. I am not religious but visiting a site with such rich history, and seeing the bones of the individual who is said to have spread the gospel of Christianity to the world after Jesus's crucifixion, was a very humbling experience.
2) Riding for nearly 40 hours on a train from Beijing to Chengdu, China (2007): I've already documented this here, here and here. At the time, it felt like hell. The more I reflect though – and the more distance there is between me and that toilet – I realize what an immense learning experience it was. Everyone should take a long-distance train in a foreign country. It's a wonderful way to connect with locals.
1) Taking this private tour through the DMZ, South Korea (2015): Every Christmas, I watch a Seth Rogan film. Don't ask me why. My life has just somehow evolved to watching stoner comedies during the holidays. In 2014, that film was 'The Interview'. Throughout that year, my interest in Korea (both North and South) was also peaking. After viewing it, I boldly booked airfare to Seoul along with the aforementioned tour. I didn't really know what to expect, and I do admit to second-guessing my decision in the weeks before traveling, but in the end it proved to be one of the greatest trips of my life. Seoul itself, I feel, is poised to be one of the world's dominant cities of influence. I would love to work there. If you are a recruiter, hit me up. Seriously. But THE particular moment that has put it on this list happened while visiting a hilltop South Korean army base. A shy recruit handed over his binoculars and motioned for me to look at a river down below. As I did this, I caught glimpse of members of the North Korean army patrolling its banks. I was floored. Here I was witnessing a moment of modern history. I then tried to peer at more of the mountainous, raw landscape sprawled out before me, eventually catching sight of a North Korean army base on the peak opposite. Through the lens, I observed a North Korean soldier looking right back at me. A shiver went down my spine.
Me watching the sunrise over Japan from the summit of Mount Fuji. I CLIMBED A FREAKIN' MOUNTAIN (2015)!!!
WINTER HAS ARRIVED
— NOT A WOLF (@SICKOFWOLVES) December 12, 2016
HANG THE TINSEL
PREPARE THE HOLIDAY HAM
HOLD YOUR LOVED ONES CLOSE
KEEP THEM SAFE
THE COLD NEVER GOES HUNGRY
Christmas
This is a short story about my annual Christmas breakdown. Over the last three years, it has become an event that happens at random, at unexpected times and unexpected places. It is also nearly invisible to those around me; despite writing this public online journal about my life, I am very private and covert in person. Only those truly close to me ever suspect an emotional shift.
Last year, it happened at work after I glanced up at my bulletin board and saw a picture of him. As it's right in the periphery line of vision of my computer screen, it is technically an image I see every day. Yet, last year I felt it. The weight of its meaning gave me pause as my breathing became heavy and I could feel my eyes well up with tears. I was having an anxiety attack. Thankfully, I have my own office and quickly closed the door to take a ten minute breather.
Today, it happened in my car while waiting in a long drive-thru line at McDonalds. All afternoon I had been shopping with a friend, listening to them talk about their upcoming family gathering while observing other families out and about sharing moments and completing their Christmas shopping in tandem. After we parted ways, I knew I needed a junk food hit. The greasiest of burger, the saltiest of fries. Only this could provide comfort. After pulling in, it hit me. My lips quivered and the waterworks began. Good God, I miss my father.
I don't really look forward to this season anymore. The emptiness of loss (and anger and sadness) is still there every. single. day. But in the week or so leading up to Christmas, it becomes amplified. And only those living it understand.
It really sucks.
It really sucks that my father will never meet my future husband or ever get to play with my future kids. I think that bothered him. It definitely bothers me.
It really sucks that other people's happiness brings me down. I hate admitting this but I'm not above being human. It's a terrible thought to harbour and I feel great shame by it. It's not that I don't want their contentment to happen - most definitely not, it is what everyone deserves - just that I can't be 100% present in these moments because my mind is so clouded by envy.
What doesn't suck though are small, serendipitous signs from the universe. After today's pathetic breakdown, I received a text from an old friend looking to reconnect. They, too, are still mourning the loss of their much loved mother. And my neighbour, an elderly widow, left a surprise gift at my doorstep of freshly-baked bread and cookies, inviting me for tea as she misses my company.
Perhaps these unexpected gestures were karma to detract from the negative one.
That's the other thing about loss - those living it always look for meaning. I believe it is there. I am willing to search for it. I am not alone.
And neither are you.
No place like London
"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit
and the vermin of the world inhabit it
and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit
and it goes by the name of London."
Whenever I think of London, England, I think of the aforementioned stanza from Sweeney Todd, a Broadway musical about a barber/serial killer set amidst the nineteenth century squalor of the capital. It is a place with an illustrious, albeit controversial, history. A global centre of commerce and culture and corgis, one of THE greatest, most influential cities in the world. And yet ... it is also probably one of the most difficult places I've travelled to. The only place where I've ever felt that being a polite, friendly Canadian has put me at a disadvantage.
Londoners don't have time for polite.
Londoners are primed to eat people alive.
"I, too, have sailed the world and seen its wonders
for the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru
but there's no place like London."
Take, for example, my first hour in London (2007). Having just landed at Heathrow Airport, I was still excited from seeing the iconic red double-decker buses navigate the roadways from 20,000 feet descending. Then, while in the airport, I became more excited at overhearing the variety of British dialects (that I love so much). Several of my senses were now fully computing that I was, indeed, in a foreign land which made me MORE excited for the upcoming adventure. Slightly lost, I approached an older gentleman wearing a security uniform.
"Excuse me, can you tell me how to access the Tube?"
For full effect, one should re-read that while thinking of Oliver Twist's famous line "Please sir, can I have some more?" because that is how I felt after receiving the response. I felt like I – a perplexed, lost visitor from a foreign land in a freakin' AIRPORT – could not be inconveniencing this AIRPORT EMPLOYEE more by asking a relatively simple question. The security guard took one glance at me and sneered "Can't you read the bloody sign?"
I stood, my mouth agape. My father, whom I was traveling with, whispered to just keep walking.
And so we did.
That bit of rudeness was but a taste of what was to come. From hotel staff that couldn't be arsed to divert their attention away from a tiny television playing an especially riveting arc in Coronation Street (I am not making this up), to a sales clerk that actually apologized for his initial rudeness to me because he assumed I was American (I am also not making this up), my first excursion to The Big Smoke was a real eye-opener. I admit, all I knew about traveling through Europe up until that point was learned by watching National Lampoon's European Vacation. The British were supposed to be mannerly, genteel and self-effacing. Instead, I encountered some of the biggest assholes on the planet. People that went out of their way, it seemed, to be passive-aggressive-aggressive at the slightest opportunity.
Of course, these statements don't apply to ALL Londoners.
But I encountered enough on a daily basis, either personally or through observation, to have it temper my impression of the city. It did not feel like a welcoming place.
So why would I want to return, as I will be in the new year?
Because I am more seasoned now. Less wide-eyed Dorothy from Kansas, more agile Lara Croft. One's experiences shape personality, character and outlook. Since 2007, I've developed an arsenal of charm ... and belligerence, when needed, as well as a mighty fine suit of invisible armour.
Because I may be Canadian but England accounts for 50% of my lineage. Somewhere within me, I have the fortitude to swim where others may sink. It is my ancestry. It is my very blood.
And because there's no place like London.
My favourite things of the year:
Once again, it's the season for year-end lists. And as I'm too busy/not motivated enough to write something more original (even copying this intro from last year's post), I will simply detail my favourite things of the year. Enjoy.
HEALTHY FOOD: I am learning how to cook and have so far perfected a handful of dishes, one of which is a chicken, roasted pepper, rice medley mixed with various cajun spices. It's not original (and perhaps pretty basic for those with more culinary ability) but it is delicious and I'm proud of myself for developing a new skill.
RUNNER UP: Kale smoothies.
NOT-SO-HEALTHY FOOD: Oh Doughnuts in Winnipeg.
This is the most decadent donut I have ever had in my life. I'm still hoping to visit on a day when lemon meringue, pictured above, is being served (but will happily order and eat whatever is on offer).
RUNNER UP: Dark chocolate with lavender.
MINDLESS PASTIME: Bowling
RUNNER UP: Ruckers
BOOK: When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi
This is a beautiful, heart-wrenching first-hand account of the thoughts and feelings one experiences after being diagnosed with terminal cancer. The final paragraph is everything I needed to hear from my father but which he wasn't granted opportunity to say. This book touched my heart.
RUNNER UP: Atlas Obscura by Joshua Foer, Dylan Thuras and Ella Morton
I haven't excitedly rushed home to read a book before, but for this one I do. 'Atlas Obscura' is a completely engrossing travel book that details the globe's more curious locales, giving me a million more reasons to hold a current passport. This book ignited my mind.
INSPIRATION: Alexander McQueen
Of late, I've been increasingly mesmerized by highly detailed, intricate works of art that evoke mood. Alexander McQueen was a master of this in the medium of fashion and, as his shows would attest, theatre. Both his myth and output are inspiring me to think bigger and try harder with the aim of achieving but a fraction of his mastery.
RUNNER UP: Gustave Doré
NEWS STORY: Bear Clan
I really struggled to find a positive news story from 2016. With each passing week, it seemed the world entered an increasingly fragile, chaotic state. A group of volunteers in Winnipeg has been doing exceptional things though and deserve to be recognized. The Bear Clan was initially formed to protect young women and children in my hometown's most vulnerable neighborhoods. They now routinely help the community in other areas, including missing persons cases from all walks of life. I have the utmost respect for them. They are good people doing good things.
RUNNER UP: 2016 was a terrible year. I cannot think of a truly feel-good story.
EMOJI: 😊
RUNNER UP: 🌛
ALBUM: Lemonade by Beyoncé.
Beyoncé is an artist and performer without equal and this album is a cultural masterpiece. I would be lying if I said I didn't belt out 'Don't Hurt Yourself', co-written with another favourite Jack White, every day in the shower. Flawless all around.
RUNNER UP: 'Somebody Else' by The 1975 resurrects Depeche Mode in the best way possible.
FAVOURITE MOMENT: Riding a camel with my best friend in Dubai.
RUNNER UP: My mom asking me who "Becky with the good hair" is.
See, Beyoncé transcends generations.
Thirty-something Vignette no.8
It was a late flight in. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get home and relax. Rushing past the other arrivals, she made her way to the taxi queue and entered the first one available. It would be a 10 minute ride to a warm shower, comfy robe and relative serenity before slumber. After offering her address, the plump, bespectacled driver initiated conversation by inquiring where she was travelling from.
"My hometown, Winnipeg."
"Oh," he replied. "lots of rednecks in Winnipeg."
Well this should be interesting, she thought.
The driver continued, explaining his reasoning ("It's bigger than Regina") and then attempted to justify it further by claiming Little House on the Prairie was filmed there. She didn't quite get the correlation.
"I'm pretty sure it wasn't." she stated in a firm tone barely cloaking her annoyance.
"Oh yes, someone told me."
He, like so many others, had never actually visited Winnipeg but felt the need to get on his soap box about it. She desperately wanted to interject with facts but the cab driver seemed to enjoy listening to his own voice. Not being able to get a word in edgewise, she gave up and stared out the window in an effort to avoid the nonsense. Her focus shifted to something that had been troubling her. A recent confrontation with a "friend" that had exposed the futility of placing trust in someone that continuously demonstrated they didn't merit it. Always trying to find the good in everyone was her cross to bear.
If someone needs to plead that they are a good person, they typically aren't.
If they were, their character wouldn't be called into question in the first place.
Deep in thought, she failed to notice that the cab driver was taking the long route to her home.