At the dock, le deuxième: Views from Victoria

As follow-up to my previous post about the marina in which we live, here are a few pictures I've taken out and about in Victoria and the Saanich Peninsula.

 

1. Artful mermaid: There's a lot of public art in Victoria, although photographing much of it is challenging. We found this mermaid en route to Spinnakers Gastro Brewpub.

2. Sweets: There are dozens of souvenir stores on Government Street, including a Rogers' Chocolate shop and a Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory shop, where this picture was taken. I haven't bought anything here so far ...

3. Sidney: A few weeks ago we took the bus to Sidney on a very stormy day. Here are two views of the Haro Strait in the middle of the storm. The second picture is looking toward the Sidney marina, where we stayed overnight in September. Not a great port in this storm, though.

4. Garrick's Head: I mentioned that we have a favourite pub. Here's the fire from my favourite seat in the place!

5. Pansies: This picture was taken on Saturday, December 19. Happy solstice! Some days I barely miss Edmonton. 

6. Xmas celebrations: As I've mentioned before, Victoria seems to take Christmas seriously. The lights are impressive — and I missed mentioning here the Lighted Truck Parade we watched at the beginning of December. These horses were taking families for rides around downtown.

Soon we'll be back in Edmonton for a brief visit. More pictures of "living the dream" in the new year. In the meantime, best wishes for 2016. Cheers!

 

At the dock

A few weeks ago I promised to write about living at the dock in Victoria's Inner Harbour. Here are some pictures to try to explain our living and working situation.

1. At the dock: In the first picture you see Never for Ever docked for the first time in our berth, at the end of September. In the second picture, taken a few weeks later, you see our boat bow on, with a very large yacht called Attessa in the background. Attessa is 332 feet long, roughly the length of a Canadian football field; Never for Ever is about one-tenth that size.

2. Coming and going: This is the gate through which we enter and leave our dock; it is protected with a passcode lock. In the first picture, you see our boat on the left-hand side (with Attessa in the background again). The second picture is the night view, which is how we see the entrance most of the time lately. Frankly, I find the area outside our gate a little frightening at night and don't often venture out alone.

3. Looking north: This pictures looks north from the next dock. Never for Ever has the tall mast at almost exactly the centre of the image. This is the view from Red Fish Blue Fish, a very popular seafood restaurant that is closed right now (it will re-open in the spring); it is also the view from the marina showers, which is where we do our laundry (in washing machines and dryers, of course, not in the showers themselves!).

4. Looking northwest: Night views from the dock. These picture are from early December, when some of the other boats had raised seasonal lights on their masts and booms. The yellow lights give the marina an eerie glow at night.

5. Looking west/southwest: The first view is from Wharf Street, overlooking the marina and into the harbour itself. This is the water route we follow to leave the harbour — if we were taking a day sail to Race Rocks, for instance. It's a busy harbour, even in the fall and winter, in part because of the planes that come into and leave the Harbour Air dock several times a day, as you see in the second picture. When we told people we were spending the winter aboard at this marina, many warned us we'd find the planes loud and irritating, but that hasn't been the case. In the second picture, you can also see the marina showers (the small red-roofed building on the left-hand side of the image).

6. Looking south: If you've been in Victoria, you know the Parliament Buildings are lit at night. (By the way, they are "Parliament" buildings, and not legislative buildings, because Victoria was once a colonial capital. We took the tour!) Here's the view from our boat, including the Steamship Terminal, which is also lit at night. (If you were in Victoria when Mme Tussauds Wax Museum was still here, it was housed in the Steamship Terminal building.) Every morning I say hello to the lights in the southern sky, requiring that I stand on my tiptoes to look out the galley windows because I'm me-sized, aka short.

7. A better view: This picture was taken on Christmas Eve. This is the view from Ship's Point and gives you a much better sense of Victoria at Christmastime: lights everywhere!

8. Fort Street: Fort Street is our closest east–west road. This is the view looking back at the boat from halfway between Wharf Street and Government Street. The mast you see poking up behind the car is ours.

9. Our "office": Otherwise known at the Victoria Public Library on Broughton Street. Most days we arrive at about nine o'clock and work until four or five. We usually occupy the same table every morning, although it's catch as catch can if we leave for lunch and then return.

Amenities in downtown Victoria are great. We have our choice of three grocery stores, each about a kilometre away, and three liquor stores even closer — one around the corner from the library. We have memberships at the Royal BC Museum, which is next door to the Parliament Buildings, so we visit every week or two. (It's a wonderful place to rest one's mind.) We have also walked to the Victoria Art Gallery and visited a few private galleries. We have a post office about three blocks away, where we receive our mail, and a movie theatre a block beyond that. We have a favourite pizza-by-the-slice place, one block north of the library, and a favourite pub, about two blocks from our marina. And Capital Iron ("There's no store like it!") is close, but distant enough that we don't go there all the time — because a person could spend a lot of time and money there, especially in the kitchenware section. There's really not much else we need.

Next, I'll post some pictures of places and things in our Victoria landscape.

Merry merry merry

Happy Christmas! Here's how we spent our Xmas Eve: in the famous Bengal Lounge of the Empress Hotel, listening to Christmas songs from Maureen Washington & Karel.

It was a novel and lovely way to spend a mild Victoria evening. No appearance by the moon on our watch, however.

Here's to another grand year for all of us!

Ninety-five percent of the way there

Here's my manuscript as of yesterday afternoon:

In this pile are some 280 pages of information about various aspects of book editing and publishing. (By the way, the yellow pages don't signify anything special. The copy shop made a mistake and I didn't mind the coloured paper.) The manuscript is lacking the printout of chapter 10, which should be complete today (or else tomorrow, since everything starts to shut down for the holidays around noon), and I haven't printed out the back matters, since they're pretty straightforward. (For the record, though, my appendixes, glossary, and bibliography currently total more than 50 pages.)

Now the real writing starts: rewriting. Also reconceptualizing, reorganizing, and restructuring. Though my deadlines are arbitrary and self-imposed, I'm hoping to complete rewrites and submit the manuscript to the publisher by the end of January. Wish me luck!

Songs of the Season

 

I have a terrible, wholly nostalgic weakness for Christmas music.

Some of my fondest memories of elementary school are of singing carols in the gym after lunch during the last week of classes. (Also of the annual Christmas concert, but that's an entirely different strand of memory.) I grew up with Christmas music at home, of course, and I remember learning to play various songs on piano and violin, hearing the Band Aid single for the first time in 1984, and listening to radio and mall music at my various undergrad jobs — all neurally tied to potent emotions in themselves.

Add to that the fact that the melodies of some Christmas songs are very beautiful in themselves, particularly with the lush instrumentation that is common to seasonal interpretations. I am sometimes a sucker for sentimentality.

Close to a decade ago, I began collecting Christmas music. It's become somewhat comical at this point, as I have amassed nearly a thousand Christmas-themed songs.

The list that follows has endured for almost a decade. It has grown and contracted over that time as I've discovered new tracks and artists and grown tired of others, but the core has remained stable. Little did B know until this year, when our living proximity seems to have revealed all my strangest habits, but around the third week of November I start listening to selected songs from this playlist (interspersed with everything else I listen to, of course). By the second week of December I'm listening to most of it, and by the week before Christmas, I'm playing it in full, along with many other Christmas selections. (Some of these songs are really not appropriate until Christmas Eve, or a day or two before, in my imagination — and some of them can clearly hang on until at least December 27.)

And so: My Xmas Pop playlist. Every song embroidered with memory.

• Vince Guaraldi Trio, "Christmas Time Is Here"

• Rosanne Cash, "River"

• U2, "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)"

• Band Aid, "Do They Know It's Christmas?"

• Casey Stratton "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" ("Like a Prayer" mashup)

• Boney M, "Mary's Boy Child/Oh My Lord" (long version)

• The Pogues, "Fairytale of New York"

• John Lennon, "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)"

• Johnny Reid, "Waiting for Christmas to Come"

• Kate Bush, "Home for Christmas"

• Lawrence Gowan, "Ring the Bell for Christmas"

• Lenka, "All My Bells Are Ringing"

• Pink Martini, "Shchedryk (Ukrainian Bell Carol)"

• Paul McCartney, "Wonderful Christmastime"

• Billy Squier, "Christmas Is the Time to Say 'I Love You'"

• Chris De Burgh, "A Spaceman Came Travelling"

• Kate Bush, "December Will Be Magic Again"

• Sufjan Stevens, "Once in Royal David's City"

• Sarah McLachlan, "Silent Night"

• Sarah Slean, "What Child Is This?"

• Sugarland, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel"

• The Kinks, "Father Christmas"

• The Pretenders, "2000 Miles"

• Jane Siberry, "All Through the Night"

• Annie Villeneuve, "Minuit, chrétiens"

• Cat Power, "Merry Little Christmas"

• Prince, "Another Lonely Christmas"

• Murray McLauchlan, "Let the Good Guys Win"

• ABBA, "Happy New Year"

• Straight No Chaser, "Auld Lang Syne"

By the way, and not unrelated to my subject here, this year Sleeping at Last's Christmas song is "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)," which would definitely make this list if U2 were not already on it.

The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 19

An adaptation from Molly Bloom's speech at the conclusion of Ulysses, this song is one my favourite Kate Bush singles. Both the vocal delivery and the instrumentation are so feminine! Sadly, like so much of her music, it was badly under-appreciated when it was released in 1989, despite a gorgeous video. So you've probably never heard this lyric — or Kate's original lyrical working of Molly's speech, which Kate released as "Flower of the Mountain" on her 2011 album Director's Cut.

**

"The Sensual World" (Kate Bush)

Mm, yes

Then I'd taken the kiss of seedcake back from his mouth

Going deep South, go down, mm yes

Took six big wheels and rolled our bodies

Off of Howth Head and into the flesh, mm yes

He said I was a flower of the mountain, yes

But now I've powers o'er a woman's body, yes

Stepping out, off the page

Into the sensual world

Stepping out

To where the water and the earth caress

And the down of a peach says mm yes

Do I look for those millionaires

Like a Machiavellian girl would

When I could wear a sunset? mm yes

And how we'd wished to live in the sensual world

You don't need words

Just one kiss then another

Stepping out, off the page

Into the sensual world

Stepping out, off the page

Into the sensual world

And then our arrows of desire rewrite the speech, mm yes

And then he whispered would I, mm yes

Be safe, mm yes, from mountain flowers?

And at first with the charm around him, mm yes

He loosened it so if it slipped between my breasts

He'd rescue it, mm yes

And his spark took life in my hand and mm yes

I said, mm yes

But not yet, mm yes, yes

Mm yes

Yes ...

Blow away, blow away

So there's this about living in Victoria...

Christmas is coming

There are things about my childhood that I miss, and one of them is paper advent calendars. They were simple and pretty, and since my birthday occurs close to the end of advent, they always had something of a personal meaning for me.

The advent calendars I had as a child came from Germany. The pictures were old-fashioned and somewhat religious, although some had secular scenes. Each hinge I opened had a pretty picture behind it. I bought the last one I had in grade six, a memorable year in my then-young life. I haven't seen an advent calendar like this in decades, probably since before I left my parents' house. (And of course, I know there are advent calendars with chocolate and other treats in them; these were not the ones I grew up with.)

So imagine my delight when I recently found a paper advent calendar in the style of, if not exactly like, the ones I had as a child. (Sadly, I think there were others, but I waited a week to buy one and the selection was diminished.)

Here is my new advent calendar!

And now that I know they still exist, I can look for another one next year.

As wise people have said, it's never too late to have a happy childhood. Indeed.


 

The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 16

Another once-fresh song now rendered ubiquitous by covers. Not that I dislike the covers: the Michael Andrews/Gary Jules version from the Donnie Darko soundtrack is finely interpreted. But the original still hits me like a punch every time.

**

"Mad World" (as recorded by Tears for Fears)

All around me are familiar faces

Worn-out places, worn-out faces

Bright and early for their daily races

Going nowhere, going nowhere

Their tears are filling up their glasses

No expression, no expression

Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow

No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny

I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

Cos I find it hard to take

When people run in circles it's a very very

Mad world

Children waiting for the day they feel good

Happy birthday, happy birthday

Made to feel the way that every child should

Sit and listen, sit and listen

Went to school and I was very nervous

No one knew me, no one knew me

Hello teacher, tell me, what's my lesson?

Look right through me, look right through me

And I find it kind of funny

I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

Cos I find it hard to take

When people run in circles it's a very very

Mad world

(repeat and fade)

The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 83

Once startlingly fresh, now ubiquitous: the story of so many songs of the 1980s. But this one holds a special place in my heart. Is it, as the video suggests, a ghost story? Or just one's emotional weather?

**

"Here Comes the Rain Again" (as recorded by Eurythmics)

Here comes the rain again

Falling on my head like a memory

Falling on my head like a new emotion

I want to walk in the open wind

I want to talk like lovers do

I want to dive into your ocean

Is it raining with you?

So baby talk to me

Like lovers do

Walk with me

Like lovers do

Talk to me

Like lovers do

Here comes the rain again

Raining in my head like a tragedy

Tearing me apart like a new emotion

I want to breathe in the open wind

I want to kiss like lovers do

I want to dive into your ocean

Is it raining with you?

So baby talk to me

Like lovers do

Here comes the rain again

Falling on my head like a memory

Falling on my head like a new emotion

I want to walk in the open wind

I want to talk like lovers do

I want dive into your ocean

Is it raining with you?

The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 2

Consensus says the lyrics are about a girl getting involved with drugs, and perhaps that's what the writer intended. But when I first heard this song back in elementary school, I heard a different story. Boys, beware.

**

"Magic Man" (Heart)

Cold late night so long ago

When I was not so strong you know

A pretty man came to me

Never seen eyes so blue

You know I could not run away

It seemed we'd seen each other in a dream

It seemed like he knew me

He looked right through me, yeah

Come on home, girl

He said with a smile

You don't have to love me yet

Let's get high awhile

But try to understand

Try to understand

Try, try, try to understand

I'm a magic man

Winter nights we sang in tune

Played inside the months of moon

Never think of never

Let this spell last forever

Well, summer lover passed to fall

Tried to realize it all

Mama says she's worried

Growing up in a hurry, yeah

Come on home, girl

Mama cried on the phone

Too soon to lose my baby yet

My girl should be at home

But try to understand

Try to understand

Try, try, try to understand

He's a magic man, mama

He's a magic man

Come on home, girl

He said with a smile

I cast my spell of love on you

A woman from a child

But try to understand

Try to understand

Try, try to understand

Try, try, try to understand

He's a magic man

He got magic hands

Come on home, girl

He said with a smile

You don't have to love me yet

Let's get high awhile

But try to understand

Try to understand

Try, try, try to understand

He's a magic man

The Boat

Since relatively few people opt to live aboard a boat for months at a time, it occurred to me that you might not understand what our life in Victoria is like. Here are some pictures I took of the boat, most of them back in August, to give you some sense of our space. 

1. This picture is from ten days ago when we were at Portland Island: the boat at anchor. The boat is 38 feet long with a 60-foot mast. The canvas enclosure at the stern gives us an extra room; on warm days we can sit, cook, and eat dinner out there. Not so much now, though.

2. This is the binnacle, looking from inside the boat on the stairs — a passage called the companionway. The binnacle is where we control the boat; it's where the wheel is, plus the various instruments for tracking wind, speed, and location. The canvas encloses this space. In the background you can see the outboard motor (on the left) and the barbeque (on the right). The area around the binnacle is called the cockpit and is the source of many, many jokes.

3. These are the companionway stairs, from which I took the previous picture. In the background, to the left, you see the entrance to the back berth, which is where we sleep. I'm not going to post a picture of that because it's usually kinda messy and all my everything is scattered everywhere. The door on the right is to the head, another picture I'm not going to post — who posts a picture of a bathroom?

 4. Turning around on the companionway stairs, you see the galley, or kitchen to the less nautical among us. The freezer is inside the cabinetry directly under the towel; the fridge is also in the cabinetry, immediately next to the freezer.

4a. Just took this picture to make to make the galley make more sense (sorry it's so dark: the sky is very overcast today). Here you see the fridge and stove, plus our kitchen storage. Vegetables keep really well in the space between the fridge compartment and the boat wall; currently we have a cucumber, some potatoes, and half a head of cauliflower there, plus some leftover wine for cooking. (I know: leftover wine?!?)

5. Viewed from the galley, this is the settee and would be the dining area if we raised the table (which is beneath the front-most cushions right now). If you've ever been in an RV, you understand this configuration. Two people could sleep here if necessary. The big silver pole is our mast — well, actually it's not; it's a compression post, which connects the mast to the keel, dispersing the weight of the mast from the deck to the keel (it's called a deck-stepped mast, if you're interested). You can see that the aisle is rather narrow; the boat is twelve feet wide on the outside at its widest point (its beam), which is roughly at the frosted-glass back splash in the galley. You can probably get a sense of space from that.

6. Also viewed from the galley, this is the seating area, where we tend to eat lately and where we sit to read and write. The large breaker board on the left side of the picture is where we control our lights, heat, and power; you can also see the VHF radio, for weather and communications on the water. Supposedly one person could sleep on the seating area if we raised the table top, but it would have to be a short, thin person who slept like a rock.

7. This is the settee viewed from behind the compression post. The focus in this image isn't sharp, but you may be able to perceive the curve of the boat. The settee is a good place to lounge, read, or watch "TV" (DVDs on the laptop). It's also not completely uncomfortable if you fall asleep there, IMO.

8. Turning around from the previous picture, you see into the forward cabin. It's a V-berth, which means the sleeping space, intended for two, forms a V from head to feet, pointing at the bow of the boat. It's really tiny. We tidied since I took this picture (because Zak was coming), but it often looks like this; B refers to it as our garage because it's where we store things we don't need often, including canned and packaged groceries and dirty laundry.

9. This is the chart table viewed from behind the compression post. I'm sitting here as I type this blog entry. There was a lot of sunlight when I took the picture, which accounts for the over-exposure — sorry. What's also changed since this picture was taken is the artwork, which we replaced with a triptych of owls to remind us of home

9a. The owls. I'm the one at the top, apparently.

10. Another view of the companionway stairs, to give you a sense of width and space. Also, you can see the barometer (the round, clock-like object in the right third of the image), which has become my little mechanical friend over the last few months.

11. After all this work, I am le tired, so I'm going back to bed. Ha ha. We've now added my Newfoundland quilt to the pile: nights are COLD!

I hope this post has helped you understand (and my future self remember) a little about the boat on which we live. Next I'll have to write about the marina here in Victoria — but that's a post for another day. Cheers!

Sweet dreams, baby

Good morning! It's Throwback Thursday again, and in the spirit of Hallowe'en, here's my current favourite candy treat.

As a child, my favourite chocolate bar was a Mackintosh's Wigwag. Do you remember those? They no longer exist in any market I know, but at British import shops (and several groceries in Victoria), a replacement exists: the Cadbury CurlyWurly!

Yum!

And you thought I was in Victoria to read and write.

Field Trip: Butchart Gardens

Last Saturday we left our dock for a mini-vacation. You know, because living in Victoria isn't enough of a break.

After an easy overnight anchored at the south end of Portland Island, we motored (no wind) through Saanich Inlet and into Tod Inlet. There we tied up on a mooring buoy and took the dinghy across to the back entrance to the Butchart Gardens. After a brief delay — there are comparatively few visitors arriving by boat in late October — we were admitted and spent a few hours admiring all the greens, reds, and golds of autumn in one of the world's best-known gardens.

Pictures trump words, however, when one visits gardens. So here are some pictures. 

This is one view of the Japanese garden, which is the first garden we saw when we arrived. It is, as you can see, stunning; we could have stayed there for our whole visit and filled our eyes with colour, shape, and texture.

 

Did I mention that it started to rain as we set out in the dinghy? The rain added a lovely dimension to the experience. And as things turned out, the skies had cleared and the sun was shining again before we left.

I loved the sheen of the rain on these begonias but don't have the technical skill — or the equipment — to catch what my eyes really saw.

Another spectacular display was to be found in the sunken garden, which is probably the showpiece of the gardens. The sunken garden was the original lime quarry; this picture is taken from one of the high points.

I loved the amur maple in the backyard of our St. Albert house, but this shrub is even better.

The rose garden is the most diminished garden at this time of year, as most of the canes have been trimmed and only a few were still blooming. But as a Prairie girl, I was astonished to see (and smell) roses a week before Hallowe'en. What a scent to inhale in October!

Two totem poles stand in the gardens, raised to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of the gardens. This detail shows an otter holding pups and a clam. Yay, otters!

 I couldn't possibly capture all the colours and varieties of dahlias on display in this riot of flowers, but this particularly contrasting section caught my eye.

I found this planting atop a waste bin on the grounds. The truly black plant was arresting — and then I saw it in several other plantings.

The mooring buoys (there are five) across Butchart Cove are complimentary for gardens visitors. (Note, however, that stern-tying is mandatory when you're on these buoys, as there is almost no swing room.) And I should mention that the Saanich Inlet is filled with surprises: between noon and five o'clock on Saturday we watched sea lions, humpback whales, and a hummingbird. There aren't many other places on earth where you could have that experience.

All in all, it was a grand visit. I hope we'll get back to Butchart Gardens in the spring before we leave the coast.

Now, onward to the San Juans!