Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 176
April 13, 2016
whale outside my window
I'm already turning into a Vancouver cliché - today, I actually put on my sneakers and went for a jogette along the seawall. Just ten minutes or so, a lot for me, but there I was with all the others, breathing in that wonderful fresh air, the sea, the beach, the vast sky.
And then I headed straight for Starbucks, for a grande flat white. It doesn't get more Vancouver than that. I'm ashamed of my current addiction to Starbucks, which are on every street corner here, and hate their stupid terminology - grande, for God's sake. I asked for 'medium' and they don't know what that means. But the coffee is good.
The best news: my friend Chris, who has been suffering tortures from his lack of speech, saw a psychiatrist who specializes in speech disorders today, and it sounds like the process of understanding and healing has begun. It has been a huge crisis, very worrying; now great relief that a medical professional has taken the matter in hand. Tomorrow we are going to Hawksworth, one of Vancouver's best restaurants for dinner, to celebrate.
In the meantime, a whale has been playing in the inlet just outside, though I haven't seen it yet. But this guy sure did, only a few days ago!
https://www.instagram.com/p/BECzW4Th5tF/
And then I headed straight for Starbucks, for a grande flat white. It doesn't get more Vancouver than that. I'm ashamed of my current addiction to Starbucks, which are on every street corner here, and hate their stupid terminology - grande, for God's sake. I asked for 'medium' and they don't know what that means. But the coffee is good.
The best news: my friend Chris, who has been suffering tortures from his lack of speech, saw a psychiatrist who specializes in speech disorders today, and it sounds like the process of understanding and healing has begun. It has been a huge crisis, very worrying; now great relief that a medical professional has taken the matter in hand. Tomorrow we are going to Hawksworth, one of Vancouver's best restaurants for dinner, to celebrate.
In the meantime, a whale has been playing in the inlet just outside, though I haven't seen it yet. But this guy sure did, only a few days ago!
https://www.instagram.com/p/BECzW4Th5tF/
April 12, 2016
Mashup at the VAG
Cool, possibility of rain for the next few days. No complaints - when it's nice out, impossible to stay inside, so weather like this is helpful. I worked till nearly 1 a.m. last night, got through the manuscript, will fiddle some more before sending it to readers.
In the afternoon, a treat - the Vancouver Art Gallery's massive show, which takes up the whole building, called "Mashup - the birth of modern culture." As the ad says, "371 artworks, 156 artists, 30 curators, 3 years in the making." Of course, some of those artworks are very small, like a tiny book of poetry called "Cunt Norton," somehow taking the Norton Anthology of Poetry and linking it with erotica. And some are huge, taking up an entire room. It starts with Picasso - what doesn't? - and Braque incorporating bits of newspaper and wallpaper into their work, and proceeds to show that melange and collage - mashup - changed the face of art through all genres: film (Jean-Luc Godard, Quentin Tarantino); music - rap, hip hop, John Cage and others; dance (Merce Cunningham and others); literature - including "The Wasteland," T.S. bringing in all sorts of bits from elsewhere. And of course the visual arts, Warhol, Keith Haring, endless others.
Notable: many, perhaps as many as half, of the artists represented are women. It felt as if a concerted effort had been made to make sure this was the case. Because it's 2016.
To me, the exhibition showed artists saying, This is great - how can we break it? How can we smash it up and stomp on it and put it back together? There was tons of humour; it's not often I laugh out loud at an art gallery, but I did in this one, including this:
By John Baldessari, entitled "Pelicans staring at human with nose bleeding." Deep. There were lots of teens there with their schools (including a class where one young girl was there with her baby in a stroller.) I bet this is the most fun they've had at the art gallery. Hope it gave them some ideas.
This is the huge entrance hall, by Barbara Kruger:
Photos can't do this stuff justice. It was not soul-stirring the way classical works of genius are to me, but it was greatly entertaining and even inspiring, to see the way artists reassemble what's there, transform mundane objects, use their febrile imaginations to create something completely new. It made me feel conventional - my memoir: and then this happened and then this. Next one, I'll toss the stories up into the air and see how they land.
Afterward, headed to Chris's for our usual champagne aperitif. On the way, everything looked like it belonged in the exhibition, including this:
It made me smile yesterday. Perhaps not so much today.
A few more random shots:
Taken from the bus as it sped along East Broadway near Main. That little brown house is where I lived, on the top floor - at the top centre was my window - from 1978 till I moved in with Edgar in 1980, in a tiny attic apartment I called Cosyland. And it was, too. Amazing it's still there, has survived the relentless, ruthless developer onslaught that is Vancouver real estate.
Rhodos, a bush around the corner. Enuf said.
English Bay beach at sunset. I live a block from here. Have I said that before? How will I go back to no view, no ocean, no sea breezes, no tankers waiting in the bay?
The answer in a few words: Eli and Ben, Anna and Sam, my house, neighbours, Toronto friends. Two more weeks. Very happy here. Can't wait to go home.
In the afternoon, a treat - the Vancouver Art Gallery's massive show, which takes up the whole building, called "Mashup - the birth of modern culture." As the ad says, "371 artworks, 156 artists, 30 curators, 3 years in the making." Of course, some of those artworks are very small, like a tiny book of poetry called "Cunt Norton," somehow taking the Norton Anthology of Poetry and linking it with erotica. And some are huge, taking up an entire room. It starts with Picasso - what doesn't? - and Braque incorporating bits of newspaper and wallpaper into their work, and proceeds to show that melange and collage - mashup - changed the face of art through all genres: film (Jean-Luc Godard, Quentin Tarantino); music - rap, hip hop, John Cage and others; dance (Merce Cunningham and others); literature - including "The Wasteland," T.S. bringing in all sorts of bits from elsewhere. And of course the visual arts, Warhol, Keith Haring, endless others.
Notable: many, perhaps as many as half, of the artists represented are women. It felt as if a concerted effort had been made to make sure this was the case. Because it's 2016.
To me, the exhibition showed artists saying, This is great - how can we break it? How can we smash it up and stomp on it and put it back together? There was tons of humour; it's not often I laugh out loud at an art gallery, but I did in this one, including this:
By John Baldessari, entitled "Pelicans staring at human with nose bleeding." Deep. There were lots of teens there with their schools (including a class where one young girl was there with her baby in a stroller.) I bet this is the most fun they've had at the art gallery. Hope it gave them some ideas.This is the huge entrance hall, by Barbara Kruger:
Photos can't do this stuff justice. It was not soul-stirring the way classical works of genius are to me, but it was greatly entertaining and even inspiring, to see the way artists reassemble what's there, transform mundane objects, use their febrile imaginations to create something completely new. It made me feel conventional - my memoir: and then this happened and then this. Next one, I'll toss the stories up into the air and see how they land.Afterward, headed to Chris's for our usual champagne aperitif. On the way, everything looked like it belonged in the exhibition, including this:
It made me smile yesterday. Perhaps not so much today.A few more random shots:
Taken from the bus as it sped along East Broadway near Main. That little brown house is where I lived, on the top floor - at the top centre was my window - from 1978 till I moved in with Edgar in 1980, in a tiny attic apartment I called Cosyland. And it was, too. Amazing it's still there, has survived the relentless, ruthless developer onslaught that is Vancouver real estate.
Rhodos, a bush around the corner. Enuf said.
English Bay beach at sunset. I live a block from here. Have I said that before? How will I go back to no view, no ocean, no sea breezes, no tankers waiting in the bay?The answer in a few words: Eli and Ben, Anna and Sam, my house, neighbours, Toronto friends. Two more weeks. Very happy here. Can't wait to go home.
April 11, 2016
Monday without Macca
Spent yesterday afternoon working in the sunshine - am rereading the manuscript one last time before sending it out to a few readers, as I don't know any more what it needs. Chris came for dinner and afterwards we went for a walk, at dusk after a sunny day - the beach jammed with people, Denman Street packed, nearly impassable - what a rich outdoor life there is here, Toronto can only dream. We bought a gelato and sat on a bench by the ocean watching the crowds as the sun set behind the mountains. Sublime, this city can be sublime. Also, however, ugly and harsh in the number of street people, homeless, addicts, the problem much more extreme than we face in the cold east. The other side of Paradise.
Speaking of Paradise ... I need to signal that right this minute, it is the pre-sale for Paul McCartney's concert on July 21 in Hamilton, and I have NOT bought a ticket. No I have not. I saw him last year in Toronto and will again on the 19th here in Vancouver, and that is my Macca limit. I know a woman who's a true addict, follows him around the world, is worried about her retirement because she has spent everything on tickets. I will not go any further than I have in my tiny little addiction. Though mid-July, I may be sorry. I hope not.
Today Chris and I were going to Bowen Island to visit old friends, but he is not well, his struggles to speak have now given him tremendous back pain. It's terrible to watch a friend suffer so and not be able to help. But that means now I have a full day ahead with nothing planned, what bliss. Will work, get groceries on Granville Island, maybe the Art Gallery, maybe the Y - I went in a few days ago and it's a gorgeous renovated building. Work and play, in equal measure. Though play almost always wins out.
Out there, right now, a slate grey sky, the water a flat blank sheet of the same grey, nine huge tankers waiting in English Bay, one small motorboat chugging past, and in the distance, on the mountains, a hint of white and blue.
Speaking of Paradise ... I need to signal that right this minute, it is the pre-sale for Paul McCartney's concert on July 21 in Hamilton, and I have NOT bought a ticket. No I have not. I saw him last year in Toronto and will again on the 19th here in Vancouver, and that is my Macca limit. I know a woman who's a true addict, follows him around the world, is worried about her retirement because she has spent everything on tickets. I will not go any further than I have in my tiny little addiction. Though mid-July, I may be sorry. I hope not.
Today Chris and I were going to Bowen Island to visit old friends, but he is not well, his struggles to speak have now given him tremendous back pain. It's terrible to watch a friend suffer so and not be able to help. But that means now I have a full day ahead with nothing planned, what bliss. Will work, get groceries on Granville Island, maybe the Art Gallery, maybe the Y - I went in a few days ago and it's a gorgeous renovated building. Work and play, in equal measure. Though play almost always wins out.
Out there, right now, a slate grey sky, the water a flat blank sheet of the same grey, nine huge tankers waiting in English Bay, one small motorboat chugging past, and in the distance, on the mountains, a hint of white and blue.
April 10, 2016
spring in Canada
Just back from Jane Ellison's dance/stretch/movement class at the Western Front - she's a master, I feel stretched in all directions, my muscles ache a bit. What's different about her class is that after the stretching and flexibility stuff, she puts on fantastic music and everyone just dances around the room. My idea of joy. And then a cool down, more stretches and flexibility and breathing. It hurts so good.
One thing about Vancouver I need to note: everyone here has a dog, including nearly all the street people, and yet there is very little dog crap left on the streets. People PICK UP. Are you listening, Toronto?
And the transit here is a marvel. My Compass card can be refilled at the Skytrain or online and takes me from bus to bus to train. The bus drivers all seem to be cheerful, and when street people get on and do not pay, no one blinks an eye. Unlike Toronto's chaotic ticket system and often surly drivers who sometimes fight with people who obviously do not have a dime and are denied transit. They've fixed problems here. Why can't we? ARE YOU LISTENING TORONTO?
Yesterday, hot. Today, not so much, and tomorrow, possibly rain. As the cartoon says:
Today is a Monday kind of day - not sure, layers. So, looking at those clouds, it's a good day to stay home and rest my weary bones and do some work. I've been working, don't get me wrong, but today will be focussed. I'm in Bruce's aerie, there are a million boats in the harbour, and here goes. Attempting to follow this, which puts this principle so well, I'm going to steal it for my classes:
One thing about Vancouver I need to note: everyone here has a dog, including nearly all the street people, and yet there is very little dog crap left on the streets. People PICK UP. Are you listening, Toronto?
And the transit here is a marvel. My Compass card can be refilled at the Skytrain or online and takes me from bus to bus to train. The bus drivers all seem to be cheerful, and when street people get on and do not pay, no one blinks an eye. Unlike Toronto's chaotic ticket system and often surly drivers who sometimes fight with people who obviously do not have a dime and are denied transit. They've fixed problems here. Why can't we? ARE YOU LISTENING TORONTO?
Yesterday, hot. Today, not so much, and tomorrow, possibly rain. As the cartoon says:
Today is a Monday kind of day - not sure, layers. So, looking at those clouds, it's a good day to stay home and rest my weary bones and do some work. I've been working, don't get me wrong, but today will be focussed. I'm in Bruce's aerie, there are a million boats in the harbour, and here goes. Attempting to follow this, which puts this principle so well, I'm going to steal it for my classes:
April 9, 2016
pink and white petals
Vancouver streetscapes - the trees are so heavy with blossom, they look like they're going to break. Not to mention tulips, daffs, magnolias, camellias, and the most magnificent of all, rhododendrons of all colours. Breathtaking.
And all this with the omnipresent backdrop of ocean and mountain.
This building, above, on the third floor at the back, is where Edgar and I moved in together as young lovers, engaged to be married; where in September 1980 I discovered I was pregnant, where we left 9 months later to go to St. Paul's Hospital just down the road. Anna was born Sunday May 3 - a Sunday's child she is - and the three of us came home a few days later. The building's just down the road from Bruce's, unchanged. Many great memories. Just sent this pic to Edgar, who wrote back, "Best of days when Anna was born."
Last night, Chris and I had dinner with Art and Debby, who lived across the hall here - two doctors with a baby, Jordan, only a few months younger than Anna, could that have been better? Jordan is a businessman now in Montreal, with two children exactly the same age as Anna's. Onward.
A bit more about Vancouver Island: eagles, thrilling to see eagles, to see First Nations culture, to be so close to the massive waves of the Pacific and have all that space, light, air, sky. The place we stayed, Chesterman Beach B and B, could not have been nicer. I recommend that all of you go there and stay. Restorative.
April 8, 2016
island to mainland
Walking down to the beach at 8 a.m. in the sunshine
Later that morning - the Ancient Cedars Trail. Magnificent and ancient indeed
Visiting Nicky Cavendish, marvellous comedienne, in Qualicum - she snaps Patsy and me...
... and I snap her.
From the plane back to Vancouver
And that evening, this is the view from outside the theatre on Granville Island where I went to see a play.
April 6, 2016
a drink by the sea
At some point in the Seventies, I camped with a couple of guys on Chesterman Beach. I remember it only vaguely - was one of them my boyfriend? I have no idea, but it was a hippy adventure. No one camps there now, but tonight, as Patsy and I walked there at dusk, at one end was a crowd of about 30 surfers, black spots flailing about in the waves.She and I walked on to famous, luxurious Wickaninnish Inn to have a glass of wine in the beachside cafe. In April 1981 - exactly 35 years ago - I was 8 months pregnant, and Edgar and I came from Vancouver to a little cabin near Long Beach for a last holiday, a few days alone before our lives changed forever. We had a cup of tea in the Inn and I stole an ashtray, which I still have. This time - a drink, a view, pleasure. And that baby has produced two babies, and my second baby is on vacation in Barbados. All's well that ends well.
The bar - an incredible piece of maple driftwood they had to remove a bit of wall to get inside. A picture for my bartender son.Good fortune - a dear friend who helped me celebrate my 20th birthday in our shared house by the sea in Halifax, time together with ocean and woods, just like we enjoyed on the Atlantic coast. The rain has stopped, tomorrow will be sunny, though unfortunately we're going our separate ways. And now, after a lot of walking in the wind today, a hot bath.
the west coast of Vancouver Island in the rain
Click to enlarge
My chariot to Nanaimo
Shelter, a wonderful restaurant in Tofino - it's teeming rain, and I'm presented with Cortez Island mussels in white wine, chunks of garlic and fresh thyme - and frites
Our cosy abode - Chesterman Beach B and B - fabulous
It rained all yesterday and today. The B and B has a roomful of boots, slickers and rain pants. We walked on the beach.
Crowded Chesterman Beach
Some people have it good - a house on the beach
Today's picnic - fish and chips from the fish truck in Ucluelet - fresh cod in a tempura batter, fresh and light, the best I've ever had
The Wild Pacific Trail - a stunning trail along the cliffs outside of Ucluelet
Patsy takes it in
A bald eagle
Azaleas
Long Beach - the usual crowds
This guy! He was taking his family surfing on this chilly wet day, people who'd never surfed before. "It's so fun," he said.
A First Nations gallery in Tofino
The Little Free Library by the Catholic church in Tofino.
Good times, my friends.
My chariot to Nanaimo
Shelter, a wonderful restaurant in Tofino - it's teeming rain, and I'm presented with Cortez Island mussels in white wine, chunks of garlic and fresh thyme - and frites
Our cosy abode - Chesterman Beach B and B - fabulous
It rained all yesterday and today. The B and B has a roomful of boots, slickers and rain pants. We walked on the beach.
Crowded Chesterman Beach
Some people have it good - a house on the beach
Today's picnic - fish and chips from the fish truck in Ucluelet - fresh cod in a tempura batter, fresh and light, the best I've ever had
The Wild Pacific Trail - a stunning trail along the cliffs outside of Ucluelet
Patsy takes it in
A bald eagle
Azaleas
Long Beach - the usual crowds
This guy! He was taking his family surfing on this chilly wet day, people who'd never surfed before. "It's so fun," he said.
A First Nations gallery in Tofino
The Little Free Library by the Catholic church in Tofino.Good times, my friends.
April 4, 2016
treasure
Perhaps one day I'll tire of the morning view from Bruce's balcony, but I don't think so. Wait - have I said that before?
I walked around Lost Lagoon in Stanley Park this morning. Swans are nesting. Then I went to the liquor store to buy some Prosecco for Chris.
Had lunch with old friend Tara in Kitsilano on Yew St., above. Every street in this city is lined with flowering trees, pinks and whites, it's incredible. And today was supposed to rain. Hah! Tara is writing non-fiction and we had much to discuss as we sat outside in the hot sun, including children, grandchildren, travel, and how to structure a book that has both research and personal story.
From the mini-ferry back to the West End. This is looking at Bruce's apartment, somewhere there in the middle behind a tree.Believe it or not, I had my doubts about this trip to Vancouver. I wondered if I'd feel isolated and lonely, wondering what the hell I was doing here and wanting to go home where I belong. And instead, this has so far been one of the best get-aways of my life. I have been tremendously lucky with the weather, no question. But my hunch, that here where I lived and worked for 8 years it'd be valuable to reconnect with old friends, has proven true. Not just my bestie Chris, with whom I've kept in touch, but others with whom I haven't - now we have time to get to know each other again. And Bruce's place is the ideal nest, because though it's a small apartment, with his wall of windows on the ocean I never feel alone or enclosed. And there's a piano on which I make painful noises.
Today, I had a chance to say hello to one of my father's dearest friends, David Suzuki, one of my own heroes, a man so vigorous and alive, he makes people 50 years his junior look feeble. He signed and gave me his book, "Letters to my grandchildren." Treasure.
P.S. Part of my bliss might be also that I am not reading a newspaper regularly here, just whenever I happen to see one or see some news on-line. So do not have to think so much about Donald Trump or Ted Cruz or terrorists. Yet Bruce has PBS and last night I watched the season premieres of both Call the Midwife (brilliant and moving) and Grantchester (delicious). Talk about bliss!
PPS. My friend and neighbour Gretchen just wrote from Toronto, "I'd say your view is better!" and sent this view from her kitchen window. I'd say she's right.
PPPS Tara just texted that there's a whale in the inlet near their house just across English Bay from me. "Maybe it'll come your way," she said. I'm looking through Bruce's binoculars. Not often that I spend a quiet Monday night watching for a whale.
