Author Archives: Ephemeral Pleasures

Cucumbers

What do you call the cucumbers that aren’t English cucumbers?

When I was in the grocery store yesterday trying to figure out what I might like to eat, I bought one. Today I ate the whole thing in sandwiches with a bit of mayo, and it was delicious, and I don’t know why I hadn’t been buying them more often.

I asked this question tonight of my tv-watching friends and their net connections, and we thought of “normal cucumbers”, “traditional cucumbers”, “garden cucumbers”, “slicing cucumbers”, and “field cucumbers”.

I first encountered long English cucumbers wrapped in clingfilm as something that the farm I worked at bought at a wholesaler and sold. I’ve never liked them all that much. People mostly leave the thin skins on, and I don’t like the skins. But I’d forgotten how much I like the other kind. They’re juicy and flavourfull and they respond well to salt, mayonnaise, or dips. I can’t wait to get another one.

I think that maybe after they started selling this kind too, the farm started calling the other kind “field cucumbers”.

There was a story in L.M. Montgomery’s The Story Girl where a character says that cucumbers and milk, taken before bedtime, generate vivid dreams. I can’t tell you tomorrow whether that’s true, since I ate the cucumber this morning and I’m drinking rock-chilled whisky now.

Living-history visit, and observations

Today I visited Fort Edmonton Park, a living-history museum with areas re-creating four eras in local history: the Hudson’s Bay Company trading fort of 1846, the pre-railway settlement of 1885, the boomtown of 1905, and the more modern city of 1920. I really enjoy pioneer villages and other living-history sites, and this is a good one. (One website claims it as the largest in Canada, but I think Fortress of Louisbourg is probably still bigger.)

On this hot sunny day, I didn’t try to see all of it in my first visit. I didn’t go to the Fort at all, and I just visited a few buildings on the 1920 street.  I focused on the two eras in between.

Among the things that I noticed or thought about while I was there were the following.

  • Almost all the white settlers and residents commemorated by name were born in Ontario, not in England or elsewhere in the British Isles or Europe.
  • So all this settlement, railway access, and development happened generations later than it did in the places I’d lived before this.
  • It’s neat to see historical re-creation of relatively recent eras. My dad was born in the 1920s and lived in a city, and my mum was born in the 1930s but spent much of her childhood in a poor rural northwestern Ontario settlement, so much of what’s shown would be familiar to them.
  • Heck, some of it is familiar to me, because of how we lived at Kareen, the cottage which was built in the early 20th century and never changed much after that. I remember the costumed interpreter at some site in Nova Scotia talking down to 12yo Ann asking if she could guess what something was. “Oh, that’s just a washboard and washtub. My dad uses one of those every week,” she said. I feel really lucky that we got to use those artifacts, not as a museum stunt but as our ordinary life – the toaster that you had to watch and flip by hand, the manual water pump, the Quebec heater – just as my mum got to experience the one-room-schoolhouse for a few months when they had nowhere to live in the city.
  • But I bet that in my lifetime, there will be museum representations of how people lived in suburbs in the 1960s. In the Museum of Science and Tech. in Ottawa there is/was a little display of “modern” kitchens of the 1950s and 1960s.
  • I wonder if I should suggest to the siblings to keep an eye out for potential museum donations in the cottage shed.
  • It’s also interesting to look at household artifacts during this time of handing down china and furniture from our parents and grandparents. In one cozy single-room 1885 house, the costumed interpreter pointed to what I’d call a china cabinet or hutch, saying that the dishes in there weren’t the residents’ “good china”, but would be all their dishes, used for every meal. Our grandparents and parents had china cabinets of good china, teacups, fine glassware, and curious, but only used it on special occasions, and now we’re inheriting it all, probably with even less inclination to use it. Our bone china cups and saucers look very like those on display in the 1905 bazaar. I want to try to use everything I inherited, and I wish I knew more of its provenance.
  • Two of my favourite things on most pioneer-village/re-enactment visits are watching blacksmiths at work and watching weaving, from small handlooms to larger mechanised weaving machinery like at Upper Canada Village. Oddly, I didn’t see either today – I saw a smithy, but not operational, and I didn’t see any weaving at all. Many of the female interpreters were carding wool or knitting with single-ply handspun wool. One young interpreter pointed out the spinning wheel but explained that she was just learning. The gift shop did have some ceintures fléchées for sale.

Anyway, I had a good day, and I’m definitely going to return.  I rode the steam train, the streetcar, and the carousel, but not the ferris wheel.  I ate a cinnamon bun from the 1905 bakery, and a meal at Hotel Selkirk.

Getting there by transit takes a little planning, since the maps application on my iphone doesn’t include the special shuttle that runs on summer Sundays.  The shuttle runs once an hour to/from South Campus station.  You can also get off the #4 bus and walk in from Fox Drive, about 2 km.  (Don’t pay attention to the signs about a shuttle taking pedestrians across a bridge with closed sidewalks; that’s not relevant.)

Death Cab for Cutie

Last night I went to see Death Cab for Cutie at the Shaw Conference Centre. It was downstairs, in a venue that I’d previously experienced as a large carpeted banquet room. I went straight from work, and my concertgoing experience started when one of the crowd of eight v. young people on my train car called out “Anybody going to Death Cab?” and I said “I am” as I walked to my seat and got out my e-reader. “Really??” they asked, and then asked which station to get off at and how to get there from the station, and whether I would tell them when the station was coming up. A disreputable fellow sitting next to me thought this was really funny, asked whether I was a teacher, and asked whether I needed his rolled up Metro paper to keep them in line. Then there were some questions like “Why do YOU like Death Cab?” and “What’s your favourite song of theirs?” and “Have you heard their new single?” (I hadn’t, I’m waiting to get the album) that amused me but also made me feel like a weirdo.

Crowd control measures in the Shaw included turning off all the escalators and letting people move off the stairs a few at a time. Pre-warned by a friend, I checked my bag with knitting in it. I didn’t get patted down, I bought a tour shirt at the merch table, and inside the venue I went through the ID-checking corral to get a wristband to let me enter the “beer garden” – a lighted space at the far back where adults could buy and drink alcohol. It was $6 a drink, and although I usually think it’s a good sign when the beer’s something I’ve never heard of, Molson Old Style Pilsner isn’t. At least they let me hold the can, rather than pouring into bad plastic, though. I talked to my pub-knitting friend Wendy and friends of hers, and then decided to head into the floor crowd before the end of the opening act Bright Eyes to see how close I could get.

Moving up slowly when other people left got me to within about 10 standees of the stage, where I stuck it out for more than half the Death Cab set until I got overheated and restless, so I watched the rest from the beer garden and the back of the floor. There were also shallow bleachers on both sides of the floor.

It was a good show. They didn’t chatter much, although they did thank the opening musicians, say that it had been too long since they’d visited Edmonton (5 yrs?) and remind us their new album’s coming out Tuesday. The sound quality was good enough that I could hear sufficient lyrics of the few unfamiliar songs to work out what they were afterwards. Ben Gibbard’s voice was very recognisable, but since I hadn’t done any homework I didn’t know which of the other guys were which. If you don’t know Death Cab for Cutie, I could say that they’re described as “alternative rock” or “indie rock”, but they seem to be on the mainstream end of that, not as hard-edged as some of what I listen to. They have clever sad singable lyrics.

Unfortunately I’ve lost my setlist and notes, but it turns out that now last.fm is linked with setlist.fm, so I have access to a consensus version. They didn’t do all their most famous songs, but it was a good mix across most of their albums.

My ears were not ringing at all afterwards. It didn’t seem too loud at the time even though I didn’t bother with earplugs, and my part of the crowd was quite civilised (an awful lot of them were young girls about my height, which was handy.) I love standing up close to the stage feeling the bass in my chest with just enough space to move with the beat – but as I’ve said before, I wish there were venues with the civilised comforts of Edmonton Folk Music Festival or Blue Skies and more of this kind of music. What I need to do next is to check out some of the bar venues, such as Starlite Room or Pawnshop, and I’ve been reluctant to do that by myself because I always feel horribly self-conscious and vulnerable as a demographically-atypical newbie.

More than at any of the other concerts I’ve been to, I was struck by the high level of smartphone use. When Bright Eyes had some technical difficulty for a minute, their frontman cracked “Just hang on a minute, go back to playing Angry Birds on your phones or else experience the real live 3-D music the way it happens.” I took some photos and video – and it was quite difficult to do so without anyone else’s iphone viewfinder in the way. I can see that it detracts from the sense of intimacy with the musicians in the days when everyone was just swaying and singing and waving lighters, and I could also notice in myself that the temptation to get the perfect setlist and best picture and video of a whole song were distancing me a bit from the sensation (but I’d still be doing the setlist thing with a pen, anyway). But everything that I was doing on line and everything I was close enough to read on other people’s phones was all about the concert. So … I dunno. Here are some pictures, though.

The picture of the set-up crew was basically to show how close I was and test whether it would be hopeless to try to take pictures of the band. Other patrons were using the digital zoom on their phones, but I try not to use digital zoom and just crop as needed afterwards, and that’s about as good as I got holding the phone at head level. My videos aren’t bad, but the sound quality is crap and I would keep forgetting not to move, so the picture bounces.

roadies deathcab3

Among Others – notes on a book, with updates Nov 2012

Jo Walton’s newest book, Among Others, was published last week. There are lots of good and useful positive reviews of it on line, like this one from Locus.

Mostly I don’t write book reviews, because I don’t feel sufficiently competent and because it seems unfair that half the books I want to recommend are books by people I know. Oddly, I have no problem writing about television or movies from a casual viewer’s perspective. Despite all those disclaimers — and the additional one that I actually got to read an earlier version of this manuscript a couple of years ago — I want to tell you that I really liked Among Others, and to tell you a bit more about it because you might like it too.

Among Others is a real-world-with-magic book, a boarding-school story, a trauma-survivor story, a story told through the protagonist’s diary, and a story about someone who reads and how the books she reads inform her life. I like all those subgenres of books. So it is not at all surprising that I loved Among Others when I first read it, and that I have enjoyed both rereads so far and laughed out loud and cried in the bath.

The magic in the world of Among Others is subtle. It’s subtle enough that a reader inclined to look for mundane and psychological explanations could often grasp at them. But it is not trivial or consequence-free, for the user or for other people. This would explain why most people don’t seem to know about magic — because sane people who can use it rarely do.

I like boarding-school stories in general, although my favourites are the introvert-outsider stories of Madeleine L’Engle’s And Both Were Young, Kit Pearson’s The Daring Game, and some Australian story in a Virago Press edition, rather than Malory Towers, Chalet School, Chrestomanci, or Hogwarts. The solitary protagonist of Among Others has all the troubles you might expect when an awkward outsider arrives partway through the term, but she has such a strong sense of self (and a safe place to write about it, see below) that she never seems to be consumed by the petty social troubles and bullying that she endures. This is credible, because although she’s mostly stuck at the school she does have a bit of outside life and she also has interior life with time to write and read undisturbed while the rest of them are having Games. Also, it’s clear from some of her asides that she’s already endured much worse physically and emotionally before she got to the school.

I like stories of people who have recently been bereaved or divorced, stories that are about the going-on-afterwards. Mostly these are contemporary fiction stories. I can’t think of what other fantasy stories are mostly about what happens after saving the world at a cost. (The end of Lord of the Rings is great – but it’s not where the story starts.) In Among Others, the main part of the story starts after something both important and awful, with a protagonist who is struggling with loss, still trying to figure out her place in the magic, and trying to make sense of altered personal circumstances as well.

One problem with stories that are ostensibly written as the protagonist’s diary entries is that you have to think about whether the diary is secure. I grew up in a house with a lot of people and little respect for autonomy, so my first thought about diary entries in fiction is whether it’s realistic to expect them to be private. Either the diary discovery will be a plot point (I was scarred young by Harriet the Spy) or the protagonist is writing even less truth than she can bear to think, or the novelist is sort of cheating. In Among Others, though, I found it credible that the diary entries could be both frank and secure, because she says she’s writing them in mirror writing as well as keeping her notebook in her ubiquitous bag – and later mentions getting a locking notebook for Christmas.

The protagonist of Among Others is 15 years old in 1979, and a science fiction and fantasy reader. She reads a lot, comments on what she reads, and also uses her reading experiences to make sense of human behaviour. Although I was a few years older, I didn’t start buying my own books until shortly before 1979, so it was particularly fun to have Mori discovering some of the same new fiction that I was. I still remember discovering The Number of the Beast as an endcap display at the university bookstore, and extravagantly buying the trade paperback on the spur of the moment. Her observations on the books are pithy, opinionated, sometimes funny, and completely in character, and they’ve reminded me of a bunch of books I should read or re-read. I don’t know very many books about people who not only read but use their reading as a way of making sense of the life-outside-books that’s happening concurrently. Pamela Dean’s Tam Lin, of course, is another good example, just with a different reading list. And the Tam Lin protagonist, Janet, grew up in an apparently sane and supportive environment such that she hasn’t needed the books to work out how to behave, the way that Mori probably did.

In Canada you can buy Among Others in hardcover for an ordinary hardcover price (less than $30 full price, less than $20 on line at Chapters), or in a Kindle version for around $10. Greenwoods bookstore in Edmonton had a few ordered for the shelves the day I went in to get my pre-order. I understand that access is similar in the USA. But the weird and disappointing bit is that there’s no British hardcopy publication and currently no British sales of electronic versions either. It seems like SF/F fans in Britain would probably embrace the familiarity of Mori’s 1979-1980 reading list even more than those of us in North America, and it seems like if there are young people in Britain today depending on libraries for their science fiction and their real life and hope, they might benefit from this book more than the middle-aged fans who can order books from overseas or disguise their IP addresses to fool the Kindle store. I kind of wish there was a feasible fund to donate copies to libraries in Britain.

———-

Update, November 2012:

Since I wrote this entry, Greenwoods bookstore is no more.

But Among Others has won the Best Novel Hugo 2012, the Best Novel Nebula 2011, and the British Fantasy Award 2012.  The other piece of good news is that Among Others has been published in the UK by Constable and Robinson.

More cocktails

1 part Cranberry liqueur
4 parts ginger ale
1 part Cuban rum
Shake with ice in a water bottle.

This one was pretty good but not great. I think the rum taste was distracting. Maybe I need to get some vodka, if I am looking to beef-up some flavoured-alcohol drinks. It doesn’t have a name yet.

1 part Bailey’s Irish cream
1 part Voyant chai cream liqueur
1 part Kahlua
0.5 part Grand Marnier

Since everything was in the fridge I couldn’t be bothered with the shaker, I just stirred it and licked off the spoon. This was very good. It’s like the ingredients of the layered shooter B-52, with the chai liqueur added, so I decided it should be named after a bomber airplane of the Indian Air Force and went looking for one. Hence, Shamsher.

A better cocktail recipe

As served at deVine’s (I don’t know if this one was presented by Penny Irving or by Bryn Batton Wall)

Nutty Angel

  • 1 oz vodka
  • 1 oz Frangelico
  • 1 oz Baileys
  • 0.5 oz dark creme de cacao

Shake in a cocktail shaker with ice, dust with nutmeg.

As served chez moi

  • 1 part Cuban rum
  • 1 part Frangelico
  • 1 part Baileys
  • 0.5 part Kahlua (turns out dark creme de cacao is not as ubiquitous as the guy at deVine’s assured me)

Shake up with ice in a wide-mouthed Nalgene bottle, put some nutmeg on top in a glass.

This is almost as good as the one at the tasting. Since Kahlua and the rum come from Spanish-speaking countries, I will call it Ángel Loco.

Food and drink that doesn’t go together

When I was a teenager, I noticed that ground beef tasted great in lots of one-pot combination dishes. We ate a LOT of ground beef as a family of several picky eaters, one heart patient, and mostly one busy cook. I also discovered that eggs tasted pretty good with stuff mixed in, starting with a can of Campbell’s cream soup, but then extending that to various other things in scrambled eggs such as cheese, mushrooms, or celery. So one summer when I was keeping house for myself I thought to extend these observations to cooking eggs and ground beef together in a frying pan along with a can of soup. It didn’t taste good at all.

On Thursday night I went to a cocktail tasting at deVine Wines. Our party gathered in honour of a birthday celebrant.  It was a lot of fun – we tasted seven cocktails, and brought home recipes, a silly souvenir drinking vessel, and whatever ingredients we bought. I feel like making cocktails at home now, except that I don’t have a shaker, and I’ve just gotten around to putting an ice cube tray in the freezer, and I don’t have a complete set of ingredients for any of the things we tried. But one or both of the drink-mixers for the event was really encouraging people to try out combinations on their own and make up names for them.

Here are my conclusions so far:
1. Cranberry liqueur from Okanagan Spirits is really good on its own. It would probably also be very good with orange juice, with ginger ale or soda, with cranberry-cocktail juice, or with champagne, but I don’t have any of those things here yet.
2. Frangelico, the hazelnut liqueur dressed up with a monk’s knotted belt around the bottle, is a bit too sweet to drink warm on its own, and it smells oddly like an old library.
3. Diet root beer and 6yo Cuban rum, while each is something I would gladly drink on its own, when mixed together have a terrible overtone or texture or something, together, like outgassing plastic. Fortunately I didn’t mix very much of it. I had thought it could be called an R&R, but now I don’t want to waste a name.
4. Adding a dribble of Frangelico to the above makes most of the weird chemical thing disappear. It actually just makes it taste like cheap pop, which may be a fake-flavour taste or may be an artificial-sweetener taste.

Conclusion: I need to buy more compatible drinks.

What foods or drinks have you discovered just don’t go together?

Heritage Festival

Yet more evidence that Edmonton deserves being called the Festival City. Now I have been to the Heritage Festival (previously Heritage Days, I think) as well as the Fringe theatre festival and the Folk Music Festival, and they’ve all been excellent, urban events with attention to the transportation, hygiene, and shade needs of summertime crowds. And there are lots of other events that I haven’t been to yet but maybe I will sometime: Capital Ex, Taste of Edmonton, the Grey Cup, Silly Summer Parade, Old Strathcona Music thing whatever it is called, Film festival, Blues, Jazz, dragon boats, and more.

The Heritage Festival http://www.heritage-festival.com/ is held in a park on the riverfront, just past the university. I should have anticipated that getting there by bicycle was probably going to mean going down a hill on the way there and up one on the way back – there may be a flatter route or one with less traffic so that I could have ridden up instead of walking in a crowd of pedestrians, but that was okay. Admission is free, although they take food bank donations. Each of the 65+ cultural pavilions (marquee tents) in the park had some or all of the following: food for sale (you bought tickets at a central kiosk and bought the food for tickets), folk-dancing children, arts and crafts for sale, and displays about the history and culture of the ethnic group(s) in the homeland and in Canada. I did not find any Irish-speakers at the Irish pavilion, only a vague encouragement to call the president of the Sport and Social Club. I wandered about in a not very systematic way eating various foods: satay from Borneo, pierohy from Ukraine, barm brack from Ireland and bara brith from Wales (similar fruit breads), bannock with jam from the Aboriginal pavilion, a chocolate crepe from the French one, and then my stomach got full before I ran out of tickets or suggestions.

Even when I’m travelling, lately, I work at not trying to do things in a perfect, once-in-a-lifetime way but to pace myself and enjoy what I can manage easily. So while it would have been nice to take photos with my good camera, I chose not to carry it around, and instead experimented with the camera on my new phone. I’ve learned that although the zoom seems tempting, it’s generally not worth it for me, because I don’t get clear enough pictures. Also, it doesn’t do a great job of high-contrast bright sunlight – this may improve if I learn more about how to do it.

Indian dancers Korean performance (drums and dance) Romanian dancers Congo-Kinshasa dancers unknown

Two more libraries

5. Capilano Branch. To get to this library, I took the #4 bus that I always take home from work, and continued to the east end of the line. The Capilano Mall looks promising from the outside, I’d always thought when riding by it in a car, but I probably wouldn’t go there again, with Bonnie Doon closer and Southgate now on the LRT. The library is on the small second floor of the mall, across from the elevator. I didn’t see an escalator or a staircase.

The returns are in a slot outside. A library staff member sits at a desk facing the door welcoming people. The branch is quite small, and it’s in a space without inherent charm. It’s telling that the webpage on this branch doesn’t mention the collection size, but does mention that the armchairs are full by mid-morning. I’d call this my least favourite of the Edmonton libraries, so far.

6. Whitemud Crossing. This is a big and very busy branch library, one of the ones that’s open on Sundays in winter. It’s in a new-looking block of shops just south of Whitemud Drive, and is easy to get to by car and to park. They have a good-sized section for science fiction and fantasy, automated return checkin machines, and a lot of magazines arranged by theme. (Curve and Ebony don’t count as “Women’s” magazines, but decorating-lifestyle magazines do.) With high ceilings and windows on two sides, the facility was surprisingly noisy, but since I was just browsing that didn’t bother me. I’d definitely go back if I had a car and wanted a change of scene.

Libraries

The Edmonton Public Library has 17 locations. (It hasn’t had bookmobiles since 1995, though).

Before this week I had been to two, Strathcona and the downtown one. Now I have been to four.

eplGO is a one-room public library inside the engineering library on campus. It was added at the end of the recent renovations. It seems to contain mostly new paperback fiction attractively displayed, with a small section on stuff related to careers and job-searching. When I was there, there was one employee re-shelving, an automatic checkout machine, and a box to drop off returns. And my returns got recorded into the system that same day, which makes it very handy – and it will be even handier when I’m biking. It’s also possible to have public library holds delivered there, so I might try that next winter. (Not embarrassing ones!)

Idylwylde is a branch library in the north end of the Bonnie Doon mall parking lot, in the same building as a Health Unit. While it was being renovated last year the library was somewhere in the mall, but I never got around to visiting it then. From the outside, I noticed a wall of big windows that had the word for Library written across them in many languages, and I could vaguely see books through the windows. It turned out that there were shelves of manga and other graphic novels attached across the inside of the glass – an appealing presentation. There was a gas fireplace and armchairs, computer carrels, a bigger teen section than small-children’s section, a staff-picks display and a 1-week-borrowing display but no other theme displays or new-books section that I could see. I took a picture but my home internet is misbehaving and the tethering connection is insufficient.

The Kingston Frontenac Public Libraries also has 17 branches, because it doesn’t just cover the small city but the whole county, some of which is quite rural or on islands. Some of the branches are tiny and open as little as four hours a week. The last year I lived there, I started a project to visit all the branches, but I only got to four or five. So I think I will do it here instead.