World's Ugliest Buildings



I'm disappointed that The Ontario College of Art & Design isn't in there...as well as The Royal Ontario Museum...they both should be on that list.

Click on the image to see the rest of the buildings

The Russian Tea Room looks totally gaudy, but it's one of the places I've always wanted to see.

Click on the image to see more Russian gold!

When you board the Venice Simplon-Orient Express (VSOE) train, you feel as if you are becoming part of a glamorous history. This train, with its restored, 1920s vintage cars, is the world’s most authentic luxury train.

Click on the image to read more about the train and how you can book a trip...

See how Chanel used the train in their ad campaign..

"If someone can't keep up his payments on a $100,000 debt and then buys a package tour to Thailand ... that's not just illegal, it's immoral," he told a briefing in Moscow.

You're not keeping up on your debts in Russia?
Don't think you're going to take a vacation....

We're Back!



It was a relaxing time.
I don't think we would have enjoyed it as much if we hadn't stayed at The Wavecrest Bed Breakfast..such a lovely place...such gracious hosts!

You'll see the beautiful house in the slide show...and the room we stayed in had a fantastic ensuite with a huge, deep tub!

Just so you know, The Wavecrest is for sale...they're moving to a warm climate for good.

Seriously.
If you're considering a trip to Pelee Island, stay at The Wavecrest.
Barry is an excellent cook, and Thom is entertaining as hell!
519.724.1111 if you want to reserve a very comfortable room.

Driving in Ocho Rios....with a surprise at the end

Something that Jaybee posted reminded me of our drive through the streets (literally) of Seville, Spain to get to The Giralda...so, I've posted it.

Getting the Finger in Tangier 

Ok, so it was exciting to go to Tangiers.
The mere idea that we were on the African Continent was enough to excite us, and while I'm glad we went...I certainly have mixed feelings about our visit.

The relentless haranguing by the beggars and street vendors made me feel like we were in some bizarre cultural video game.
The Mister had one little boy following him, tugging on his shirt and looking at him like puss in boots from Shrek.
I could have adopted him on the spot.
We eventually gave him a Euro to go away, but he was just replaced by another within seconds.

It really did feel like an attack by street vendors...and they were unappeasable. One tried to sell The Mister hash...which, if you knew The Mister is absolutely hilarious.

No matter where you looked, there was a photograph waiting to be taken. The history of the place is felt in your bones...and so was the contempt for tourists, and I suppose it should be expected. Walking through Tangiers was like walking out of a time machine and into the 9th century.

In fairness, we were part of a tour...and there certainly was no possible way to "blend in"...hell, even without the tour.

We were taken to a restaurant for tourists, and I must say that for a germaphobe...a dirty fingernailed thumb in your soup bowl as your waiter places it in front of you is shiver inducing.
I took out my hand sanitizer before lunch and it made the rounds of the table before I got it back. I was seated next to a Brazilian lady whom I couldn't verbally communicate with since my Portuguese was as non-existent as her English, but every so often she would turn to me, lower her head and look at me with an expression that needed no translation.
I had to take a picture with her...she was killing me.

My friend Piika had to stop me from walking into a Mosque...me, my plunging neckline, and what felt like my giant crucifix.

At one point I was taking a photograph of one of the small alley like streets as a woman was walking toward me...she saw my camera and immediately turned around and started walking backwards. I can only imagine how the people there feel about being perceived by outsiders as walking artifacts.

One thing I can say...I saw enough ass and nose picking to last a lifetime.

Is that harsh?
It's a dirty place.
The upside?
The immune system of the population of Tangiers must be incredible.

It sounds terrible, what I say here...but I don't mean it to be.
It's my observation.
Observation from a spoiled Canadian, who is used to a different kind of place.

What can I say?
It's an incredibly amazing place in it's own way.
Everyone should have the experience.

"Please say "Si Si"....say you and your Spanish eyes will wait for me..."


Since I'm refusing to let go of our trip to Spain, I thought that I'd share some observations with you.

Here are some:

There is no such thought as "I'm too old to wear that".
If Spain is any example, women are fashionistas until their dying breath.
Hair is dyed, fried and layed to the side...heels are worn until death.

The Spanish are very respectful of age and handicaps. Street lights have tweety bird sounds for the blind to know when to cross. Everything is wheelchair accessible. Buses all have designated seating for the handicapped and aged...and it's respected. Our friend Mystic told a story of his wife jumping up in the bus to let a woman sit down, and the woman said to him: "Do I look that old?"...a rule of thumb, I think would be...if Granny is wearing 3 inch heels, she's ok. She doesn't need a seat.


Spanish women check each other out.
They start at your shoes, and move up.

Shoes are a big deal in Spain.
There is at least one shoe store on every block, and people are impeccably dressed.
Don't even try to leave the house with your clothes not matching your shoes.
Even babies in prams have shoes matching their clothes, and often little umbrellas matching their prams...even when they're at the beach, their flip flops will match their bathing suit.

The Spanish love three things: their ice cream, their pork, and their shoes.

There are little tourist trip traps everywhere.
Doorways will have a little pointless ledge for you to trip over.
Ha Ha, you stupid tourist.

All bars have ingenious little hooks for women to hang their purses on.
Sounds like a stupid little thing...but it's monumentally convenient.
Toronto needs to look into it.

Speaking of Toronto looking into it...there is no reason why a small resort town like Cadiz should have a better transit system than a city like Toronto does.
But they do.
Their train systems work, their bus system works.
Toronto: Look into it.

Kids are well behaved.
They get a lot of attention.
They're loved...but...inappropriate behaviour is not tolerated.
Moms will slap their children, strangers will tell kids off...and kids say things like "excuse", "gracias".
Sounds minor, but it took me a few days to not cringe like I do here when a family sat down next to us in a restaurant...kids played.
They didn't terrorize.
Please explain to me what the difference in parenting styles is.

The Spanish language sounds like Greek to me.
There is a lot of  the "th" sound.
So that many us assume that they would lisp when they speak English.
They don't.
They have a very sexy accent when they speak English. Pleasant to the ear.

Observations of Morocco to come...

Postcards from Spain



I apologize in advance for it not being the way I wanted it to be, but my software is being a bitch.

Postcards from Morocco to come...the music on this video postcard is sung by the gypsy pictured in the Flamenco Bar photos, but in true gyspy fashion, when he signed his CD he didn't sign his name, but the name of the CD...so, I can't even tell you his name.

*The picture of "The King of Poland" was taken by Piika... but I couldn't resist adding it.

The Dance of Death.



Our friends warned me about the bullfight.


"It's pretty bloody"
"I don't know if you'll be able to sit through the whole thing"

Even The Mister was concerned, since I am the one to hide my eyes during bloody movies.

...but I loved the bullfight.

Yes.
I know that there's an outcry for the bullfights to cease.

And for some reason, I thought that they went on for ages torturing the poor bull...

...but they don't.

An entire bullfight appears to last about 20 minutes, and unlike cows and bulls on this side of the pond who are led to the slaughter...the bulls in Spain get an opportunity to fight back.

...and sometimes they get their own.

I understand that we got to see a bullfight in one of the most famous rings in the world. The ring in Seville...and it's old. Old and beautiful, and reminiscent of the Roman ring.

Let me try to describe.

People show up to the bullfight decked OUT. Ladies in their best, with their pretty fans, men carrying their little pillows to sit on the old stone, that is hard on the bum, as us tourists quickly found out.



The Toreadors and Matadors enter in their full regalia, and pay respects to the crowd by coming right up to the boards and tipping their hats to the fans one at a time.
Their outfits are fantastic...and it got me thinking....I could get with the fantastic outfits in beautiful bright saffrons and reds...taunting the bulls with my pink cape...and then running like a bitch behind the boards as the bull chips away at the wood with fury...but that's where I would make my exit.



The rest is a dance of death...and it's beautiful.
The bull is massive and angry.
Each bull enters with their own personality and level of ire and fire.

The Matador is glorious, graceful and proud.
When the Matador makes his move, dodging the bull so closely and pulling the cape with such grace and respect for the bulls power...I get it.

All of the bull's meat and hide is used.
Not like the hunters who kill, mount the head and leave the carcass to rot in the woods...this is a dance of death...a show of respect for the power of the animal.
The crowd is respectful and hush...one man shouted out during a crucial moment as the Matador and bull stared each other down in the final moments, and the entire crowd hissed him to silence.

If you're going to die for your meat...there is no way more courtly to go than with an opportunity to kill your opponent.

I am officially a fan.

Kiss my ass PETA.

I love the aged.

Pictures of wonderful faces from Spain and Morocco at Look Up Radmila

We're Back!!!

Oh. My. God.
Spain is beautiful, and if I didn't have those tedious work/language/unemployable in Spain issues...I'd move there in a heartbeat.

Anyhow...there will be more to come, I just have to get my bearings.

The picture above was taken in an adorable little cafe in Madrid (is there any other kind?).

The little Flamenco dancer is one of the things I coveted when I was a little girl, and now...while I love, love, love those dolls...I could never make it fit without purchasing an ornate buffet cabinet and starting a collection of such dolls.
Succumbing to the cliche Eastern European style of knick knacks that don't match in a hard to dust setting.

So...I took a picture to keep instead.

Many thanks to Chris and Jacqueline for taking care of the place while we were gone.

The Rain in Spain...

The Mister and me are headed to Spain on Monday for two weeks.



.... and while there will still be a couple of posts from me before we go...I've asked Cynical-C and Jacqueline from Norge Thingy to do some guest blogging for me, for which I am ever so grateful.

Hopefully, they'll dip in a bit before we leave.
I think that maybe, this blog will be better while we're gone!

Carmen Amaya - Queen of the Gypsies!



This is totally for you, John.
For all the times you took me to Don Quixote's on College Street.

Red, red wine...stay close to me...



Did you miss me?
The Mister and I, (along with the "pantie" sister-in-law and her family) were invited to Mr & Mrs. Crabby's cottage, up Picton way. It was a rainy and cool weekend, but that didn't stop us from touring around the wine trail.
We ate, drank, and ate some more...it was a lovely and relaxing weekend.
Now, it's back to the grind, and a good-bye to summer.

Have a look at my little weekend movie, and see some of the sights of Prince Edward County.
Very pretty.

We're Back...



...and what a lovely time we had.

In the little slide show I made, there were only a few pictures of The Shelburne Museum, a fabulous place with quite a collection...from Degas, to Monet to Manet...it just went on and on.
We were lucky enough to be able to catch the Georgia O'Keefe exhibit.
This was a great unexpected thrill for me.
We thought that we would make a trip to Boston, but were having such a great time, we didn't bother.
We'll save it for the next time.

Potter House was lovely, and our hosts Mike and Jean were absolutely endearing.
Fabulous and elaborate breakfasts, and waking up from sheets smelling of fabric softener to coffee brewing in the morning rather than hotel sterility.
A chance to meet and speak to people who can tell you the history of where you're visiting, and are more than willing to share their knowledge of the most interesting places to visit.
The Mister and I gave up hotels a long time ago, and always stay at B&B's whenever we go away.
There's no comparison.

As much as we like to go away, it's still nice to come home.
When the border guard says: "Welcome home", there is still that relief that you're where you belong.

Now...it's back to the grind...

"I said Welcome to Detroit City
Every place, everywhere we go
Man we deep everywhere we roll
Ask around and they all know Tricky
That's what's good man they all say Tricky"
~Eminem~

The Mister and me did a road trip to Windsor and Detroit.
Sorry, I couldn't find a song that had Windsor in it's lyrics except for that one cool song where Johnny Cash spits out every city in North America to music.

Anyhow, we almost didn't cross the border because The Mister didn't want to deal with the Customs Officers, and their home security questions.
But, then decided "oh what the hell"...
This time the Customs Officer didn't even lean forward. He seemed more interested in why we would drive such a long way for such a short time.
"You drove how far, to do what?"
And then The Mister launched into the whole "We do road trips. It's what we like to do" schtick. C.O. raised an eyebrow above his sunglasses twice while listening, and then waved us through without looking at the passports The Mister had at the ready, or asking for any I.D.

We parked and passed this cute old guy to the right playing a Hungarian sounding waltz.

We had lunch at the Tunnel BBQ, which is apparently one of the oldest restaurants in downtown Windsor.
There's a whole story about Helen and Harry Racovitis (to your left). He was Greek, she was Lebanese...it was love...and in 1942 they opened a restaurant steps away from the Detroit/Windsor border.



We drove by this couple who looked like they were trying to cross the street. I snapped the shot, and then The Mister said "Look!" and I saw in the rearview that they were standing in the middle of the road in a tango pose kiss. Did I get a picture of that?
...erhm...no.

And then The Mister agreed to stop into The Guardian Building. I originally saw shots of this building on dETROITFUNK, and finally had the opportunity to see the building in its splendor for myself.
It really is impressive.





Detroit has certainly cleaned up it's act since the last time we were there.
The old buildings downtown, many of which look like they were built at the turn of the century to the 1940's are beautiful, now that they've been cleaned up and restored.
Unlike Toronto, which just loves to destroy historical buildings and replace them with glass condo like structures, Detroit seems to be embracing it's former glory.
It's very nice.

No trouble getting back...the Detroit/Windsor border seemed somewhat more relaxed than Buffalo/Niagara..or maybe it was just all the Memorial Day festivities that had them in a convivial mood.

Back now.
Work tomorrow.
*sigh*

So, The Mister and I spent the weekend in the Poconos.
(Yes Kat, I too was surprised that there was NO "K" in Poconos)
It’s a beautiful place.
While we’re talking, I’d like to point out some differences between PA and Ontario.
You can smoke in places that you haven’t been able to smoke in Ontario for over a decade.


No.
Really.

I was shocked to see cigarettes being sold in Pharmacies!
Not happening here in Ontario.
In fact, pretty soon it'll be illegal to smoke in your own home or car here in Ontario.
I imagine that eventually there will be Tobacco houses where smokers will have to go if they want to smoke.
Like the Opium Dens of days gone by, in the basements of shady establishments...anyhow, that's another post.

Also, we saw a lot of couples with small children who looked very close together in age (the children, I mean...not the adults).
Every couple seemed to have a minimum of 3 children.
The parents were looking perpetually pissed off, and the children were perpetually running wild.
It was actually kind of entertaining.

Anyhow….
We stayed at The Shawnee Inn. Looks nice, huh?

The Mister booked a room on the net.
No fears of this since we found a fab bed and breakfast in Montreal this way a few years ago.
Well, we stayed in a room like the one pictured.
A real throwback to the 1970’s with the décor, no?

Now, The Mister is a little quirky when it comes to things, and he didn’t imagine Lucy and Ricky beds when he was booking the room.

This pissed him off.
The fact that this room wasn’t located in the main building pissed him off too.
See, the website is misleading.
When they do the bookings, they don’t tell you that there’s “The Big House” (as we got to calling it) and then there’s the “Slave Quarters” which is a little motel like structure far, far away from “The Big House”, named The Delaware somethingerother that smelled like a $65CD Bobcageon Motel room for $160AD.
Here’s the kicker…it cost just as much to stay in “The Big House”
This mightily pissed off The Mister, who was already pissed off.

So, we took the looooong walk up to “The Big House” to speak with the Manager on Duty.
Who was very apologetic and nice and suggested we speak with the Grand Fromage the next day.
The Shawnee Inn is a beautiful old building that has been in operation as a golf resort since 1912.
It's really pretty impressive.




There was a beautiful old elevator obviously from the 1920’s or so with a brass grill.



The view from The Big House was breathtakingly beautiful.


The view from The Slave Quarters, was not worth photographing.
It overlooked the 14th hole.

We took a drive over to Bushkill Falls where we took a steep hike to see the falls.

Very beautiful.

On the way back, while driving through Lackawanna or Cheektowaga, we passed a replica of the famous photo of workmen eating lunch on a beam during the construction of Rockefeller Center in NYC Remember that photo by Lewis Wickes Hine?


The hotel it was in front of was a little cheesy and overdone, but I really liked how they did that though.





Well, a grand time was had by all...school tomorrow, and I'm off to bed...sob!