Summer School

Leicester Day One

It’s pretty weird sitting in a hotel in Leicester, having just eaten possibly the most delicious lamb korma of my entire life, watching Field of Dreams on TV.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to beat you with this crowbar until you go away.”

For some reason, Field of Dreams has come up several times in the last month when, beforehand, I probably hadn’t thought of it in a few years. It used to be one of my all time favourite films and as I watch it again now, I’m thinking maybe it still is. I’ve already cried twice. Man, that scene when Shoeless Joe first is on the field blows my mind.

Anyway, the weather sucks as does Gatwick Airport. The train was on time and comfy. It seems my ticket was for 1^st class, which was neat. Leg room and tables is nice.

After a short nap, but longer than intended, I called one of the staff in the Museum Studies department to find the pub where some of the students were having an informal meet. I met some of my fellow students and chatted about things.

Now back to Field of Dreams, a beautiful and poignant story about people, dreams, hopes and magic.

Leicester Day 2/3

I am having a marvelous time. It’s a bit weird, being here alone, in an inn, but also quite liberating. I usually stay with people I know when I travel, as I’m graced with friends and acquaintances around the world. I can do what I want and there is no one to judge me but Snuffles, my stuffed bear. And he’s dotty in his old age.

Last night, after a good day of school and excellent lectures, I went with several other students and staff to the pub, the Landsdowne (the same place I went on Sunday night). There was some fine ale imbibed, which on top of a couple of glasses of wine at the quiz/dinner night, left me buzzing merrily. There was chatting and a great deal of flirting, and general merry-making. This after my team won the quiz game, soundly beating the others. What did we win? Bottles of wine ! It’s still sealed, don’t worry.

Today we went into London on our field trip to the V&A. It was stimulating and fun and we got to meet new people as we were split off into groups. We were looking at ideas of Britishness and otherness, etc. Afterward, I went over to the Museum of Natural History, which was fun, and completely different and mindless compared to the working visit to the V&A.

After an Indian* dinner, where we were only marginally under-dressed (and received stern stares from a pearl-and-twin-set-wearing woman) I came ‘home’. I watched a terribly schmaltzy TV movie called The Abduction Club, a frivolous costume drama about love. It had attractive women, more attractive men, horses – what more could I want? It did have one particularly glaring error, however. Based on music and dress styles, it was apparently set in the mid-18^th Century, yet one character stated, and I’m paraphrasing, “Perhaps if there had been more soldiers like Powers, the Americans wouldn’t have won the war.” Oops.

Anyway, it made me lament my situation with Gareth all the more, because I know it’s over for us, no matter how much love we have. Schmaltzy fairy tales are just that.

* I use the term "Indian" loosely. It was Indianish, tasty, but not really great.

Leicester Day 4/5/6

The week has absolutely passed in a blur. It has been an amazing blur of classes, tutorials, workshops, drink, food, laughter and conversation. I have been surrounded by a wide array of intelligent people and from morning until night we have engaged in funny, though-provoking conversations on many subjects. I’ve made friends. I’ve been dancing at the student union pub and club. I’ve been drunk on museums as much as on drink. It has been wonderful. This is what university is supposed to be, I think, the sharing of opinions, debate and banter, research and camaraderie. I don’t know if these friendships will last, but the feelings will and when I feel overwhelmed by the course, stupid, out-of-my-depths, I will remember my time here and recall that I am doing this on my own. I am very sorry it’s over.

Here’s to next year.

PS. You can read more in depth coverage of the week at the Summer School Blog, with many photographs posted by me.

Where have I been?!

Everywhere. For real.

Feel free to catch up on my life at my LJ: http://mambolica.livejournal.com

I would like to come back to this one, though. I miss it.

Airport Sitting

Back-dated entry. The joke was: matched luggage, like a jet-setter, but jet-setters don't move to the Yukon. Oh really? Since moving to the Yukon, I have never travelled so much in my life. It didn't take me long to realise that people in the Yukon tend to get the Hell out whenever they can, and I'm no different. Maybe it would be easier if I did it on a Government salary, though. That would be nice. Well, next time I move someplace totally remote and off the beaten track, I'll remember that.

Anyway, I'm sitting at YVR, Vancouver International Airport, drinking an unfabulous Starbucks coffee, listening to golden oldies being piped in. Through the glass, across a waiting area, I am being stared at by a large, Cathay Pacific 747. I'm thinking how small the cockpit windows are compared to the whole nose of the plane. It's a bit disconcerting. International travellers are walking back and forth in front of me, all different walks of life, skin colours, shapes and sizes, and yet all of them have that same bewildered expression on their faces that says: I'm in an airport and I think I'm going the right way, but I'm not sure. Even the crew walking by have an element of this in their faces. The same very tall man has walked by twice now, looking no less confused than he did the first time.

I'm wondering now, where the myth of the tiny Asian person comes from, because as I sit here, I am impressed by many tall Asian men and a few tall Asian women, too. Sure, every so often a stereotype walks by, but not as many as I assumed. Also, some of these people are sporting the most amazing outfits, sometimes stylish, sometimes outlandish, frequently layered and heavy on textures. Wow.

I'm going to Los Angeles and I don't know what to expect. I've never been to West Coast USA before in my life, excepting Bellingham, WA this summer to catch the ferry. California, though, that's pretty exciting. I do not anticipate falling in love with it as I did Philadelphia when I first visited it, or Cardiff, Wales. But I am looking forward to fun, sun and smog. Yes, really, the smog too. Is that weird? I'm a big city girl at heart and smog, although gross and bad for you, is part of the city experience. Sometimes I like to know that the reason my eyesight is bad is because of particulate matter.

Some confused people are walking by; I suppose they've missed their gate, or can't find it. And the Cathay Pacific flight attendants - they're so adorable. Does that sound patronising? It might be, except, well, there's no other word for them. I flew Cathay in May when I went back to New York for Alfred's funeral. "Tuuu-buuu-wance, buck-o seat behrts preease !" All of them could have been characters in an anime, looking unbearably cute and pretty in their uniforms and getting all excited and flustered. I really liked Cathay Pacific, too, they still treat their passengers well.

My coffee is nearly finished and I'm contemplating following it up with an Orange Julius, but maybe I'll just use my money to buy a 15 minute massage at the spa down the terminal. Whoever thought to put in spa/massage areas into airports was brilliant and deserves to die a multi-millionaire. Honestly, I recommend it ! Sure, it's probably a bit overpriced and they don't work you like a real massage therapy session would, but if your knapsack, like mine, is really heavy and you slept poorly in an uncomfortable seat on the first leg of your journey, nothing says bliss like 15 minutes of having your flesh kneaded. Awwww ya. Okay, on that note, I'm off for some kneading.

Airport Sitting

Back-dated entry. The joke was: matched luggage, like a jet-setter, but jet-setters don't move to the Yukon. Oh really? Since moving to the Yukon, I have never travelled so much in my life. It didn't take me long to realise that people in the Yukon tend to get the Hell out whenever they can, and I'm no different. Maybe it would be easier if I did it on a Government salary, though. That would be nice. Well, next time I move someplace totally remote and off the beaten track, I'll remember that.

Anyway, I'm sitting at YVR, Vancouver International Airport, drinking an unfabulous Starbucks coffee, listening to golden oldies being piped in. Through the glass, across a waiting area, I am being stared at by a large, Cathay Pacific 747. I'm thinking how small the cockpit windows are compared to the whole nose of the plane. It's a bit disconcerting. International travellers are walking back and forth in front of me, all different walks of life, skin colours, shapes and sizes, and yet all of them have that same bewildered expression on their faces that says: I'm in an airport and I think I'm going the right way, but I'm not sure. Even the crew walking by have an element of this in their faces. The same very tall man has walked by twice now, looking no less confused than he did the first time.

I'm wondering now, where the myth of the tiny Asian person comes from, because as I sit here, I am impressed by many tall Asian men and a few tall Asian women, too. Sure, every so often a stereotype walks by, but not as many as I assumed. Also, some of these people are sporting the most amazing outfits, sometimes stylish, sometimes outlandish, frequently layered and heavy on textures. Wow.

I'm going to Los Angeles and I don't know what to expect. I've never been to West Coast USA before in my life, excepting Bellingham, WA this summer to catch the ferry. California, though, that's pretty exciting. I do not anticipate falling in love with it as I did Philadelphia when I first visited it, or Cardiff, Wales. But I am looking forward to fun, sun and smog. Yes, really, the smog too. Is that weird? I'm a big city girl at heart and smog, although gross and bad for you, is part of the city experience. Sometimes I like to know that the reason my eyesight is bad is because of particulate matter.

Some confused people are walking by; I suppose they've missed their gate, or can't find it. And the Cathay Pacific flight attendants - they're so adorable. Does that sound patronising? It might be, except, well, there's no other word for them. I flew Cathay in May when I went back to New York for Alfred's funeral. "Tuuu-buuu-wance, buck-o seat behrts preease !" All of them could have been characters in an anime, looking unbearably cute and pretty in their uniforms and getting all excited and flustered. I really liked Cathay Pacific, too, they still treat their passengers well.

My coffee is nearly finished and I'm contemplating following it up with an Orange Julius, but maybe I'll just use my money to buy a 15 minute massage at the spa down the terminal. Whoever thought to put in spa/massage areas into airports was brilliant and deserves to die a multi-millionaire. Honestly, I recommend it ! Sure, it's probably a bit overpriced and they don't work you like a real massage therapy session would, but if your knapsack, like mine, is really heavy and you slept poorly in an uncomfortable seat on the first leg of your journey, nothing says bliss like 15 minutes of having your flesh kneaded. Awwww ya. Okay, on that note, I'm off for some kneading.

Saving Toronto's Matador Club

I live in Whitehorse now, but for most of my life, Toronto has been my home. I've been amazed that the Matador has made national press on CBC Radio repeatedly. "Q" has covered it, which is probably available as a podcast from cbc.ca, and this morning I woke up to hear a major discussion about the Matador on "The Current".

It's on the radar and the City is looking pretty bad. The Parking Authority, an agent of the City of Toronto, is now talking about EXPROPRIATING the site for its incredibly backward-looking 20-unit parking lot across the street from the College St YMCA. This seems like madness to me, considering that this is an easily accessed intersection (by streetcar and bus) in a highly pedestrian neighbourhood.

Writing to Councilor Adam Giambrone is not the answer. He is ineffectual and hypocritical and you'll just get a form letter. Attached below is the letter you will receive. However, if you want to contact him, visit his website (which does not seem to mention the Matador at all, as if it were a non-issue, although it does link to his role as TTC chair and show a marquee of him sitting in the drivers' seat of a streetcar, no less). Take this higher - to the Mayer - take it to the street. Flood the media - CityTV, Global, CBC, CTV. Visit Speakers' Corner, write letters to the Editor. Rally, blog, do anything, but take this to the next level !

This movement needs organisation. I wish I could be there to help.

The form letter from Giambrone's office, wherein he passes the buck and effectively shrugs his shoulders:

Dear Resident,

Thank you for contacting me about this issue. I can confirm that the Toronto Parking Authority is interested in purchasing 466 Dovercourt Road, known as the Matador, for a new parking facility.

The TPA is an independent agency of the City, the municipal equivalent of a crown corporation. The TPA, not the City, funds its own capital purchases out of its own revenues. They do not come out of the City budget.

The TPA is pursuing this property because it has made a business case showing that it believes there is sufficent demand for parking in the area and it will be profitable for them to operate there. The owner of the Matador is willing to sell, and the TPA wants to buy.

The reason the TPA has come to the City is for the authority to expropriate if necessary. The expropriation process requires both a 'hearing of necessity' and third-party arbitration to determine the price if there is a discrepancy between the City's assessment and the seller's.

If the TPA does end up acquiring this lot, I want to use this opportunity to to make some real innovative changes to our community. How can we make it contribute to the pedestrian and cycling environment? How do we reduce its environmental impact? Are there opportunities for the inclusion of public art? Can some sort of memorial to the Matador be included?

I would like to invite community members interested in this issue to work with me and explote creative opportunities. Let's start sharing our ideas on how we can re-imagine and re-invent this space so that, if this purchase does happen, it ends up being a very different kind of parking lot than what this city is used to---one that contributes more to the neighbourhood than just space for cars.

You may also want to contact the TPA about this issue. Their website is www.greenp.com, their email is tpamail@toronto.ca, and their phone number is 416-393-7275.

Yours truly,

Adam Giambrone

Stardust

Stardust might very well be the lovechild of The Princess Bride and Gormenghast and as such, 20 years since the release of The Princess Bride, it might just be the heir to the fantasy-romance throne. As a fairytale, it is quite predictable, almost from start to finish, but it's not really about how it all shakes out in the end, but the journey it takes to get there. And it's about love, unfettered and unconditional, dreams and being all that we can be. It's also about goats and gay pirates - go figure.

Three years ago, I would have loved this movie but thought it just that, a fairytale. And then I met Gareth. I hope he sees Stardust and, just as I thought of him throughout, I hope it makes him think of me. I hope he and I have a future, but if we don't, at least, in that possible bittersweet ending, at least I will have had my star, for a little while, here on Earth.