Lobster or Leave It

The Engineer and I have never traveled anywhere together where we must make important daily decisions. For example:  what to do today?  Where to go today?  And most importantly, what to eat today?  (for the record, we always seem to travel to weddings together that happen in tropical all-inclusive resorts or Disneyland).

 

They say that to really know a person you must travel with them.  You see all their annoying quirks and habits.  I must now face the music, the Engineer is about to see my odd vacation habit.

It’s not so much a habit as much as a picky, annoying, anal retentive quirk.  And it rears its ugly head when it’s time to eat.

I will eat pretty much anything.  I will, however, not eat pretty much anywhere.

It’s as if I get these ideas in my head about what food I should be eating whilst on vacation and will not let it rest until I am satisfied.  Food is very important to me, and my travels.  I think the way to really experience the world is through food.  What’s Osaka without okonomiyaki?  Or Seville without tapas?  Nothing, that’s what.

We’re in Cape Cod.  To me that equals delicious, fresh seafood and bowls of clam chowder.  But now that we’re here, I have discovered something about Cape Cod.  It’s made for families.  And with families come big, cheesy restaurants with food to suit the everyday appetite.  IE. Pub grub.

Don’t get me wrong!  I am not against the family eatery/chain restaurant.  Okay, fine, maybe I am.  But let’s face it.  When you are in your very very late twenties (I only have a few more weeks of having the privilege of saying that) and you are with you romantic partner, it isn’t exactly fun to sit amidst screaming children and their parents begging them to eat one more chicken strip.

 The other night we drove up and down the main street (and only street with food) looking for my lobster.  We stopped first at a famous Cape Cod chain that serves lobster bisque AND broiled lobster.  It was fluorescent lit, counter service, and full of children/old people  Ick.

 So I made us go to another establishment.  This one was ridiculously expensive without lobster bisque (which was now on my brain).  Then I dashed across the street to another restaurant (see the annoying pattern here?) which was worse than a Red Lobster.  It was decorated with large red lobsters, smelled of Lysol and was empty.  No go.

Everywhere else?  Closed.  It’s a family destination and 8pm is bedtime.

Back to the first restaurant because I was having my damn bisque.  It wasn’t so bad.  It smelled good.  And we could sit outside. 

After eating though, the only good thing about this place was the red lobster pager that lit up when my food was ready.

The platter itself was enticing (note the colour – we are the ONLY people to order broiled seafood, everyone else is all about the fried) but it lacked, well flavor.  The bisque?  It had hearty chunks of lobster (which were yummy) but had the consistency of mayonnaise.  Ummmm.  Wrong.  I think I ate a pound of butter in my four bites.  Bites and lobster bisque do not belong in the same sentence.

The Engineer and I agreed to eat our next meal at the Vietnamese place in town.  Sure Pho isn’t exactly Cape Cod but it is going to be delicious.

 But was it open?  No.  So I made us drive to the Thai place.  Closed.  Then we did a repeat of the night before.  Except we covered two towns.  TWO!  We passed several large eateries touting the lobster but they all looked . . . pedestrian. 

See?  There it is.  My horrible, annoying habit.  I am a food SNOB.  SNOB!  I just can’t stand run of the mill restaurants with food prepared by cooks getting paid $8/hour.  I am not a fan of plastic booths and paper place mats.  I’m just not.  What is the point of eating the calories and spending the money on bad food? 

I will search out for hours or not eat at all.  We did end up at another Thai restaurant and it was the first meal in Cape Cod that made me feel satisfied, not like I was going to die with too much cream and fried fat. By the way, I like cream and fried fat, if done well.

We topped it off with a round of mini-golf and some incredible ice cream.  At least the Cape does that well. 

 The Engineer?  He told me that my annoying habit didn’t annoy him.  And he was happy to find somewhere to eat that would make me happy. 

 Am I lucky or what?

The Dog Traveller

Traveling from Vancouver to New York has now made me an expert with how to prepare dogs for the plane.

If you have been reading my blog, you know that it has taken some practice. Well, now I got it right.  Almost.

First:  don't give your dogs gravol bought off the shelf at the pharmacy.  That stuff is the NON DROWSY gravol.  So for the past year, I have been feeding my dogs pills that don't do a thing to put them out.  Whoops.  I finally discovered that for the knock-out drugs, you've got to ask the pharmacist.  Feed them half a tablet each in cheese

Second:  walk them plenty before flight.  Best thing to do?  Off-leash of course and let them go crazy.

What is the result?  Mr. Mop was so tranquil going through security I had to WAKE HIM UP!  That never happens. Usually he pants and whines.  This time?  His eyes would barely open when they shoved the 'probe' into the kennel to make sure I wasn't smuggling cocaine.  

Then you will get off at other end, and your dog will still be asleep.  In fact, he will be so drowsy it takes him two days to get the gravol out of his system.  

Lesson here?  Don't feed your 15LB dog the same amount of gravol as you would an 80LB child.  Yup, dogs only get a quarter of a tablet.  Again, whoops.

I'm almost there though, just a few more flights and we will all be pros!

And FYI, West Jet really is superior to flying pets.  Go with them if you can.

Princess Dog Walker

I live between two cities.  Between two coasts.  And I am really trying hard to see the light in each city, and appreciate their differences and qualities, rather than wish I were in the other while I was in one.

 I bring my dogs with me everywhere I go, and if there is one big difference between New York and Vancouver, it’s what you can do with your dogs.

 The boys love New York.  What dog wouldn’t?  The streets of Brooklyn are lined with innumerable smelly ‘treats’ putting this concrete jungle on the map of doggie wonders.  On our walk the other day, Mr. Mop ate a soggy napkin (the whole thing, I looked down and there he was, strutting and munching away), a chicken bone (of course, these are everywhere, I am now adept at wrestling them out of his clenched jaws), a wet nap (what soggy napkin meal isn’t complete without a wet nap?), and an unidentifiable object I would rather not think about.

 The hard part about New York – obvious chicken bone dodging aside – is that we aren’t super close to a big park.  And the parks here are only off-leash before 9 am and after 9 pm.  It’s a fair walk to the park, so by the time we walk there, the boys are too tired to wrestle the other dogs.  I could take the subway, but it’s too hard holding both of them as they FREAK out over the loud noise that is the F train.  And I don’t have a car.

 Which is what gives Vancouver a nice A++.  I have a car, and off-leash parks are in abundance (both walking distance and driving), and there are no ‘hour limitations’ to letting the hounds off-leash. 

 I love off-leash.  I just love unclipping their leashes and that moment of freedom when they motor as fast as their little legs will let them.  Brooklyn is especially cute because he is so little it sort of looks like a bunny mixed with a galloping mouse.

 But here is where I have a hard time mixing New York and Vancouver:  the clothing.  New York is, well, New York.  I fit right in this summer with my selection of dresses.  Vancouver is a much more casual affair.  Where you can wear yoga clothes all day long, and to the opera if you so choose.

So what happens when I walk my dogs in a Vancouver park in New York clothes?  Princess Dog Walker.

 I especially love going to Lighthouse Park.  Even if the parking lot is full, you rarely run into people on the trails (something that never happens in NYC where the population is roughly equivalent to that of BC).  I go often.  And usually I am in my runners, yoga pants and puffy vest.  But this last time, I happened to be in a sundress and flip-flops.

I was ridiculous.

It’s ridiculous enough that everyone who walks at this park have big dogs, like Labs, Retrievers, and Border Collies.  I show up with a 9LB Yorkie and Mr. Mop. 

 So there we are, wandering through BC’s rainforest coast, minding our own business, when the worst thing happens:  we get lost.  I thought I was following a path, but low and behold, the path was suddenly gone.  I let Mr. Mop lead me (big pack leader mistake) hoping he can sniff out the trail.  And by the way he was strutting, I felt like he knew where he was going. 

 But he didn’t.

 Brooklyn was trying his best to hop over logs and I was traipsing through a forest wearing flip flops, a little sundress and holding my iPhone above my head trying to get a signal.  Mr. Mop turned back and looked at me hopefully. 

 Finally, we break out of the overgrowth back to the main path.  I literally have cobwebs stuck to me and bugs all over my hair.  Of course, this would be the perfect time to meet up with one of those people that we never see in the park.  And we do.  What did those two rugged hikers think of the girl who flew out of the trees, in a pink dress, yanking bugs out of her blonde hair with her two tiny dogs? 

 I looked like an idiot.  Like a Princess dog walker.  They looked at me with raised eyebrows.  Well, whatever, if I can hike in flip-flops through a forest, clearly I am tougher than I look.

 This doesn’t happen in New York.  Then again, Lululemon is brand new here.  Give it time.

Hot Sarah in the City

I am back on the Big Apple side of North America.

And boy oh boy is it hot here.  I mean HOT.  Not Vancouver heat wave hot.  This hot is like a whole other hot I've never experienced before.  The Engineer states that it's like being behind the exhaust pipe of a bus, ALL THE TIME.

Heat induces laziness, hence the lack of blog entries of late.  I have just about enough energy to drag the bed directly in front of the air conditioning and then type three words.  The rest of the time is spent asleep.

What does one do for fun in such a hot city?  There are no pools, no nearby lakes, no beaches I would feel comfortable swimming off of.  What have we been doing?

Watching movies outside.

Clearly this is the new 'it' thing to hit cities across the continent.  Every one loves to watch an old movie from the comfort of a beach blanket in the great outdoors.  In New York, it's an art.

Bryant Park is the birthplace of the outdoor movie.  Thank goodness for reviews on Yelp, otherwise I would have had no idea what to do.  The grass is available at 5 pm.  The movie starts at 8:22 pm.  And people start camping around the grass at 3:45pm.  We opted for 4:20.  It was enough time to grab some iced coffees then claim two chairs on the border around the grass.

At 4:48 pm, the border around the grass was full and everyone was standing up.  I started to get nervous.  At 4:52 pm, everyone was shaking out their blankets to make sure they could 'run and drop'.  My heart was doing flips.  Like when I was a kid at track and field, waiting for the gun to go off.  At 4:58 people were stepping onto the grass and getting yelled at by police and the loudspeaker lady who was eerily like Big Brother.

The Engineer and I had a plan.  I would run with the blanket and claim some grass - but I would aim for center field.  He would attempt to go straight, diving between the hoards of crazy movie-goers and throw himself into a starfish on the ground if he found a good spot.  We would then see who got the better deal.

At exactly 5pm, the lady called 'enjoy the show' and MASSES of people ran into the grass.  I was practically hyperventilating.  I dropped as soon as the people in front of me did.  I literally had to drape myself over my blanket with my whole body so that other people did not try to crowd me out.

And for the next three and a half hours we read, ate, and ordered pizza.  It was fun.  It was crowded.  I was two inches from the person next to me.

I have to laugh at people who are idiots in these types of situations.  Clearly, hundreds of New Yorkers know to get there early and come prepared.  But there is always that one loser who shows up at 8:20 and asks the girls next to us if he could sit on the corner of their blanket where their shoes are.  They tell him no.  He moves over a few blankets, to FRONT ROW CENTRE, shoves himself between two men and then is joined by two girls, one of which is carrying 6 shopping bags.  RUDE!  And stupid.  I was glad that the people around them didn't give them any space and they were forced to sit hugging their knees.

Those are the same people who show up late to a movie on opening weekend, like Harry Potter, and then ask if the three seats next to you (in prime viewing space) are available when the rest of the theatre is full and the only seats left are the front row.  Yeah right, wank-head, these prime seats that I got here early for draped with sweaters are definitely free for your lame-ass, clearly, as the rest of the theatre is full, you numb-butt.  

Wow, I get really mad at that.

Anyways, we watched "Close Encounters of the Third Kind".  It was fun.  Central Park had a movie last night, it was great.  Not at all crowded and I was able to watch George Clooney AND the lightning bugs darting in the trees.  How awesome is that?

It's no Brohme Lake, but New York in the summer ain't so bad.

No time to travel the Canada Line?

There's no excuse.

Just about everyone who's tried out Canada Line since its opening last week has been full of praise for the project.

If you REALLY don't have the time to try the service for yourself, here's your chance to travel from Downtown Vancouver to Richmond - and YVR - and back, all in a couple of minutes.

Just CLICK on the image above to start the ride!

What is it you do again?

I have a terrible habit, or problem, of not knowing exactly what my friends do for a living.  Granted, in this day and age it isn't so simple to say:  my friend makes horseshoes, or my friend owns a brothel.  You know, it's not 1885.

I have a couple of friends that are easy.  They are teachers.  We all know what they do because we have all experienced their work.  I have a friend who is a doctor.  Easy peasy.  But then I must delve into more difficult territory.  For example, I never really knew what the Engineer did before he was a student.  

I know it involved spreadsheets, and making power lines talk to substations. Exactly how he did that I never knew.  Maybe he told me once but I probably stopped listening when Friends got back from commercial.  Currently he works at a big investment bank.  I know that the bank is really famous and gets positive nods from people when I proudly tell them where he works.  But what does he do?  Umm, I think it involves calling people in Brazil.  And something to do with money.

One day my friend was visiting from Hong Kong.  She asked me if I knew what she did.  I said, "you convince big companies to use your bank".  She burst out that 'she was not a teller who stamped bankbooks!'.  I know that!  I said that!  She gets bigs companies to use her bank and works in marketing.  T repeated what she did.  I still think what I said sounds like what she does.

Another friend is a geologist.  I know that means she likes rocks.  She digs wells.  She digs in rocks for oil.  Pretty easy to understand right?  Somehow I don't think so.

It isn't that I don't listen.  It's just that I don't really understand.  But do I need to know more than what company you work for?

What I do is easy.  Well, to me at least.  

Once at a family gathering of the Engineer's, his uncle and patriarch of the family was speaking to me.  I must premise this with the fact that the Engineer is Chinese and comes from a large, traditional Chinese family.  By traditional I mean, highly ambitious, highly intelligent, highly hard-working DOCTORS.  The Engineer is an oddball.  So anyways, Uncle Patriarch (and doctor) asked if I was also an Engineer.  Oh no, I quipped, I am an actress.

Uncle took in a deep breath of excitement and said how wonderful.  I felt this was an odd reaction for a 70-year old Chinese uber-successful doctor.  And then he asked:  what insurance company did I work for?

Oh. Oooops

I had to correct him:  not an actuary, an actress.  But I am in an Aviva commercial if that helps?

He quickly ended the conversation and walked away.  Soon to be replaced by another uncle who was fascinated by my field.  Thrilled to know a real-life actress (you can insert freak here), he wanted to know what it exactly was that I did.

Me:  Have you ever watched TV?

Uncle:  Yes

Me:  You know those people on TV?

Uncle:  Yes

Me:  That's what I do.

Simple simple.  He was still quite perplexed though.  Understandably.  Why on earth would anyone want to face daily rejection, instability, and long periods of unemployment when one could be a doctor?  

Really, why would we do that?

Anyways, friends, I do know what you do.  I just know what you do in Sarah's terms.

www.bridesmaiddiaries.com

They're Not All Bad

I must make an amendment to yesterdays rant.

As much as the customer service in New York stinks to high heaven, I am surprised on a daily basis how nice the non-having-to-sell-stamps population is.  There is always a New Yorker willing to help out a tourist  - I've seen it with my own eyes.  Often scary looking men will approach the map bearers and point them in the right direction.  Cute because the map bearers think he is going to mug them.  In dealing with the people of NYC, they are always lovely and do smile.  Even more than those in Rainy City.  No comparison to the likes of the friendly Prairies but I want my New York readers to know that I think you're nice.  Just don't go to anyplace selling or serving wares and you might even mistake this place for Oz.  

And then you'll step in garbage or urine . . . 

Would You Like Fries With That . . . Bitch?

This is my second rant on this subject - forgive me.  I just can't help myself . . . 

I am back in the good old US of A. The land of apple pie and burgers.  Of liberty and the first amendment.  And of the WORST CUSTOMER SERVICE in the world (well, up there with the UK).

Wait, didn't the Americans invent customer service?  Wasn't that what Mr. Wal brought to Wal Mart?  Weren't the Americans the cornerstone of 'service with a smile' and 'the customer is always right'?  I mean I worked at the Gap where they taught us it was wrong to let someone walk into the store without being greeted by a friendly, and oh-so-preppy 'Hello'.

But no.  

Maybe in Ohio or Kansas or California.  But most definitely NOT in New York City.  I have been here less than 24 hours and already I have been the victim of horrific customer service.

As an ex-customer service person, I know we all had our bad days. Possibly more than we cared for (there is a reason I don't do it anymore, I just don't like people that much) but I always tried to smile.  Or fix a problem.  Or at least say 'thank you'.

Here?

It's like you're an asshole intruding on their special time.  The time of which they are paid a minimum of $8/hour to be nice to us.  Okay, that alone would make be bitchy, but still, I feel if you are the one sitting at a post office selling stamps and mailing letters, you can't get mad at the people who are there to buy the stamps right?

Example #1  Brooklyn Post Office

The Engineer and I wait in line for about 20 minutes to mail a small parcel to Canada.  Get to the lady.  We didn't fill out the customs form right.  So she shoved the package at us and waved the next person in line.  Wait a minute here, I am confused.  Couldn't she have said, in a nice way, you filled this out wrong (and perhaps with a 'Sorry, you did this wrong' tone as opposed to a 'You are a stupid idiot' tone).  Why don't you get your girlfriend to grab a new label (or better yet, why don't I reach for one under the counter myself) and fill it out while I calculate how much this will be to send to Canada.  Seems easy to me.  But no.  She told us to get to the back of the line in her rude, nasally voice.  The line which was now double in size because some brilliant postal employee decided to stack the envelopes behind the glass as opposed to helping customers.  I didn't understand why the Engineer just walked away.  I would of put up a fight I tells ya.

Example #2  Brooklyn Library

Go to take out books.  Realize have forgotten library card - so I use my handy dandy iPhone cardstar application.  The librarian looks at the barcode and says, "Look you, next time you want to take out books bring in the actual card.  I don't know if this is a real card.  Do you understand me?  I want the card, not the barcode.  Jesus.  begin muttering under breath and shaking head  (then back to) I don't know if this is a real card."  F*&ck lady, I get it.  Bring in the real card next time.  How 'bout asking or saying it nicely bitch?

Example #3 Newark Airport Shuttle Service

Go up to counter and ask for a shuttle to Brooklyn, please. The woman looks at me with a sneer as if I just interrupted the most important moment of her life.  Looks to me like she was just sitting there passing gas.  She tells me they 'don't no take no dogs'.  I inform her that I spoke to the shuttle company yesterday who assured me I could take a shuttle with the boys as long as they stayed in their crate.  She huffs.  Then goes on to say some drivers don't like it  I retort that perhaps she could ask the driver then.  She rolls her eyes and calls the shuttle.  Sure, they say, no problem.  She shoves a paper at me and tells me to wait over in the corner.  After ten minutes, she calls me back.  'They ain't gonna take your dogs.  You gotta take a private shuttle for $100".  I feel she could have said, "I really do apologize but we can't fit the crate in with the luggage.  The only shuttle we have available for you will cost $100 but will be private.  Does that work?".  But no.  She just huffed again and pursed her lips and I think probably passed wind again.  Fine bitch, I'll take a cab.

Canadians are constantly teased for being over polite.  But you know what?  At least we aren't complete kumquats when it comes to dealing with people.  At least we make everyone feel nice even when we can't give them what they want.  We try to help the situation and a smile always makes a person feel better.  

Read these examples and see what happens to me?  I get enraged all over again.  I want to punch people.  That's what happens when you act like a bitch to someone, they act like a bitch back.  Maybe that should be a lesson here.  Perhaps if I start using my wonderful Canadian manners in this big city, customer service workers will start being nicer.  One bitch at a time.

Nah.

Tintin arrives at the Roxy

Remember when we sat fixed to our seats as Herge's adventures of Tintin boomed out from the TV?

Well, this weekend the real thing comes to Gabriola's number one film venue, The Roxy.

It’s the third annual Tintin Film Festival at the Roxy and it’s a fundraiser for the Gabriola Elementary School Library. Roxy host Steve is going all out this year with what he describes as an "extra heavy duty, fun for all ages, full-tilt boogie film festival".

Starting off this year’s Tintin Festival Saturday afternoon are two full length Tintin animated film adventures and a live reading between the shows.

Sunday will be Steve's big, knock your socks off, tie your undies in a knot, kick out the jams fun-a-thon especially designed for the little ones. There will be an animated Tintin adventure to start with at 2pm, followed by a live skit with Tintin, Snowy, and a host of your favourite characters at 3pm. Then there will be another film adventure, and new this year, a photo opportunity for kids of all ages with their favourite Tintin characters, in the Roxy and outside in the Roxy parking lot. Anyone can have their picture taken with the characters and one of two or three amazing vintage automobiles similar to those in your favourite Tintin adventures!

So bring your family, your cameras and a small donation and all the neighbourhood kids you can muster -- it’ll be fun and it won’t hurt a bit. Come Saturday and your donation will cover both days -- how cool is that?! As Steve always says, Gabriola does provide!

How many of the characters can you name?

Sand sculpture extravaganza in Parksville

Gabriola's Sand Festival is not the only place where you can appreciate the amazing skill of the sand sculptor.

Last weekend saw the 2009 Canadian Open Sand Sculpting Competition held at Parksville Beach on Vancouver Island. Despite some anxious moments on Saturday as the breeze swept in from the ocean, some fabulous results wowed the crowds. Photographs courtesy of the Oceanside Star.

The Sand Boxers, of Victoria, pose with their $7,300 winner in the team category: "It Has A Ring To It".

Brett Stocker works on "The Portcullis".

Bruce Waugh puts the finishing touches to "On Thin Ice".

Denis Kleine finishing his sculpture titled "Grateful"

Karen Fralich’s creation "Snow Heaven" was a favourite in the solo category

Peter Vogelaar puts the finishing touches to ‘Dreams of Gold,’ winning the solo category of the 2009 Canadian Open Sand Sculpting Competition, taking home $3,800.