Avenue du Parc - Jour de la Terre - 2012.04.22 - 15h48

Job offerings

Carlo mentioned something about how Sarkozy can call people "scum" (rabble) at times, one incident in particular I do remember well, along with the other famous "Casse-toi, pauvre con!" (Get lost, stupid ass) incident. This was in La Presse last week.

Caption: SARKOZY TRAILING AFTER THE FIRST BALLOT
Sarkozy: «And if you need someone to rid you of all that student scum, I'll be available in two weeks!»
Cartoon © Chapleau, La Presse

Deception

The three students who are the media faces of those student organisations currently on strike were on the TV program Tout le monde en parle last evening. The show itself is taped on Thursdays and then edited. It had interesting parts, even for non-French speaking people. I had recorded that part of the show with my camera (15 minutes) then split it in two for uploading to Xanga. That was last evening. Today, they are still in the "This video is transcoding. It should be available shortly" mode. Twenty-four hours is not 'short' and 'shortly' here equates to never. They are more in the 'screwed up' mode, if you want to know the bottom of my thoughts, as they have been a few times with my videos as of late.

Salvation

It occured to me that maybe someone had posted on Youtube some segments of that show. Good reflex. The whole 15 segment is there for all to watch. So I'll resume where I would have continued had my videos been rendered available.

For quite some time, the government's strategy has been to budge on nothing, and on the other hand to try to split the students' movement with tactics that usually work, that is offering things to a group and not the other, and also to make the students seem, for the average taxpayer, as dangerous brats. Unfortunately for them, the students unexpectedly stuck together in a common front. Last week, seeing this, members of governement started to use abusive language, saying the students, especially those from the more militant CLASSE who represent half of the 175,000 strikers, were responsible for all the violence. The Minister for Civil Security even named Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois personally, spokesperson for the CLASSE, for being responsible of it. He had to excuse himself later but it shows how the government was caught off guard by it all and doesn't have a clue how to resolve the mess. They tried to make those kids pass for something like the red brigades. You don't have to understand French to notice that those three students, in their very early twenties (one is 20, another 21), very intelligent, articulate, and mastering their positions, are anything but violent freaks. So did the population.

There is something else why I wanted to post this interview, besides explaining a little what the student strike is all about. The show's co-host and sidekick, Dany Turcotte, is openly gay and even made his coming out on that show some years ago. One of the other guests on that program was Xavier Dolan, a Quebec film prodigy who at 23 has had already three films shown during the Cannes Film Festival, not yet in competition, but still... He's got ambition, and says that if the Quebec people can have the goal of becoming independent (his is for it) there's no reason why he as a filmmaker should not want to rake a prize in Cannes. He's gutsy also. At 11 years old, he called the Hollywood distributors of the Harry Potter films and told them that if they dubbed the French version in France, it would be full of French 'argot' and it woudl screw up the fims completely. He won his case and the films were dubbed in Montreal and he was the one dubbing the red-headed character whose name I don't recall. Anyways, he is also very openly gay, and his three films address gay issues, the last one more specifiacally transsexuality. It happens that recently, commenting on the student strike and more specifically on Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois, he said that the found Gabriel did a fantastic job, but also that he found him very sexy.

When the three students arrived on the set, Xavier Dolan was sitting next to Turcotte, who afterwards was poking at Dolan with his elbow, looking at Gabriel, a wink in the eye. At one point, pointing at Gabriel, he told Xavier: "Xavier, he's not that bad in person, isn't he?". Everyone burst out laughing... A few seconds later, the host jumped in.

Host: «Ok...I'll make the quote...ok. Xavier I quote you about the spokesman of the CLASSE...»
Xavier to host: «No no, we continue on, now...»
Host: «...Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois: "He is very, very eloquent, he impresses me a lot, and also I find, well ok it's not important, but I find him very sexy"»
Xavier to Gabriel: «No, but listen, bravo for all your work , bravo, what transpires from that message...»
Host to Xavier: «His work? or the work of the two others?»
Gabriel to Xavier: «You make very good films, I can return the compliment»
Then the co-host shows the red square that all those supporting the students are wearing these days and which Xavier did not have during his interview earlier, and which someone in the audience had given to him in the meantime, the co-host saying that Xavier had done so because Gabriel was coming. An embarassed Xavier said he had one at home, had wanted to put it on, but that he had forgotten to bring it along.
Gabriel to Xavier: «That's ok, you make very good films, I can return the compliment, without any uneasiness or embarassment»
Xavier to Gabriel: «Thanks».

I don't know if Quebecers are peculiar, but we sure are a barrel of fun. And if these three are the best we can do as per breeding quasi-terrorists, as the government would want us to believe, well I think I can live with that.

The other people sitting next to the students are, the round-spectacled one, Raymond St-Pierre, a top Radio-Canada international reporter who has been posted like all over the planet and whose reputation in this job is very high. The gray-haired one, Louis-Gilles Francoeur, my daily's (Le Devoir) specialist of and a renowned leading expert on environmental issues (he's therefore a nightmare for Harper and Charest). What he had to say about the students in the end of the interview, I totally agree with, and which I'll translate for non French speakers:

«Me, what I find extraordinary in all this movement, beyond the negociations, beyond the clashes, it's that there is a generation which is in the process of learning the power of the street, the power of being able to speak freely, and, basically, that is following a course of applied political sciences. What we learned in the sixties, with May 68 and things like that, I thought, me, that it was dead. And now I see a spirit being reborn, a taking in charge of social issues, because through their battles they now all see society otherwise. They will all change their vision of political power, of society, and it's moments of history, like this, that give this second vision, this double take on society and I think it's a great gain. You learn solidarity, you learn to view the political discourse, what is shallow in some political discourses, you learn to view social and political forces in a way... at work, here, and for me, this, a generation that wakes up like this, I salute this awakening.»

The never-broken calm and resolve these students have shown in the last 70 days, and I'm talking about all of them, not only their leaders, is anything short of remarkable. They were 200,000 to march on March 22. Not a fly was hurt. The only violence we've seen during all that period came from external sources: the police which lost control of itself at times, Black bloc rioters who infiltrated the pacific demonstrations, and the government which closed its door shut tight and which, despite even the police saying publicly that it was not the students who created havoc but those professional rioters, continued demonizing them and continually kept adding fuel on the fire.

The students will lose. Most everyone agrees about that. The government and those who support it will win. Or so they think. In the long run, they have already lost. I won't be the one to tell them. They don't have the basics to understand these things, so why bother.

Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois (aged 21) is the one with the white shirt. Cute for cute, I can't say I'd spit on Léo Bureau-Blouin (20) either, and Martine Desjardins is a girl I sure wouldn't mind to have as a friend. I like bright people.

Dany Turcotte and to his right Xavier Dolan first appear at 01:09. The sex exchange mentioned above happens just after 06:00.

Some good cartoons related to this issue will follow later. Right now I have to eat something called supper.

Later...

I didn't make anything for supper, didn't feel like going into the trouble. So I walked down a few blocks and bought myself a (for take-out) smoked meat sandwich (with fries, coleslaw and gherkin). Had it with a bottle of guarana (a Brazilian soda pop).

As promised, a few cartoons... (as if anyone cared )

[left: students - right: Minister of Education]
«We are always ready to negotiate»
© Serge Chapleau, La Presse, Apr 27.

This one is rather cute.

COME AND HAVE FUN AT THE "NURSERY QUEBEC"
Top: MAKE YOURSELVES NEW FRIENDS (The Premier (Charest) and Education Minister Lyne Beauchamp, with Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois)
Left: DISGUISE YOURSELVES
Right: PLAY COPS AND ROBBERS
© Serge Chapleau, La Presse, Apr 21.

[left corner, Charest - right, students]
Posters: «NO TO THE HIKE»
© André-Philippe Côté - Le Soleil - Apr 13.

[Lyne Beauchamp, Minister of Education]
«Students must renounce using violence»
© Bado, Le Droit, Apr 21

This next one is unfortunately not a cartoon. The cartoon above was in Le Droit, an Ottawa newpaper and where across the river, in Gatineau, this scene on the campus of the Université du Québec en Outaouais was taken a few days before. This is the Sûreté du Québec (SQ), the provincial police, in all its surrealistic glory. If I remember well, they were called in by the university management. Can we just say that the students who were there that day also got a nice "applied political sciences" course, as Francoeur was saying? And free of charge at that. It is a Twitter uncredited pic which I picked up from the blog of a journalist from La Presse, who ended it with this:

[..] «Speaking of Québec, it's nice, still the same, so see officers of the SQ dressed up for war, in the streets of Gatineau. The photo topping this short note was taken near the Université du Québec en Outaouais where the police is doing dynamite fishing with the students and the teachers.

Of course, the SQ is nowhere to be seen when some elected official from some native reserve is assaulted by bandits. One must say that angry Mohawks are more scary than students agressing you with Plato.»

© Unknown - from Twitter

Caca/shit/mierda - 2012.04.24 15h47

Fatigue

The student unrest is anything from over, entering in its 12th week. This has now turned into a national (Quebec) crisis, mostly by the fault of the government, imo (and many others). There are demonstrations daily, some days two or even three (that's for Montreal only). It is all very complicated because this is not only about rising tuition fees, it is also very much about how this province is run and has been run as of late. In short, a clash between supporters of neo-conservative approaches and those who are against it. What Americans call a "wedge issue". Explaining it all to outsiders is a task I would not even think indulging into. All I can say it that it takes a lot of people's energies, including mine, if only hearing about it all the time in the media. At first, although naturally prone to lean in their favor, I was still the same a little ambiguous about supporting the students. Not any more. After one month of listening to and reading analysis by specialists and what have you, I'm behind them all the way, in particular as per what a large chunk of them aim for, that is no tuition fees at all. Not only is this viable, it is more so paying to society in the long run. It's not like it didn't exist elsewhere already. Like I said, too long and complicated to get into here.

Incidentally they are also having a debate about tuition fees in the United States these days, where they are already scandalously high (around 30,000$/year). Their debate in fact has more to do with the student loans programs. Mitt Romney, stupid among the stupids, tells students to ask their parents for money. I read a few weeks ago that in the US, a huge bunch of the people over 60 (their parents if not grand-parents, right?) are themselves still reimbursing their own student loans, after all these years. A neoconservative is more than stupid. He's dumbfucked. Or a bandit like Romney, whose own way of having become rich is a secret to no one.

By the way, that huge Earth Day march was hardly talked about in the media, I mean those media owned by those who incidentally are the ones who profit from the depletion of the Earth's resources. If if a quarter of a million people marching for something is not worthy of good news coverage, what is? No wonder students are in the streets. My daily, which is the only major independent daily in Canada, is the only one having given it serious coverage. Apparently it was not covered much also on tv (I mean, as per live coverage goes).

Then there's the freezing/raining/scorching cold weather and ice-cold blowing winds that keeps hanging around and whose departure is largely overdue. Tonight they are forecasting a low of -6º C. Yesterday it was barely over zero while normal daily highs for this time of year is 14º C. I have to dress like in January just to venture outside for a short errand. It's supposed to warm up (a little) starting on Monday, with sunshine. It better be, cause right now, I am fed up.

Elsewhere, In Ottawa, it's dictatorial bulldozing. Just this week, Harper's government presented a single bill spread over 431 pages, modifying hundreds of laws affecting all walks of life including old age pensions and what have you, and to be solely discussed in the Commons 'Finance' parliamentary committee instead of each concerned Department. Might as well say no discussion at all. This to be added to the F-35 saga, where the government lied to the House, and all of us, by saying that the new planes they wanted to buy without any bidding, would not cost 12 to 15 billion dollars as they said, but between 25 and 30, for now... Add to this stolen elections in a bunch of ridings, Ministers lying to Parliament or indulging in extravagant spendins on the arm of the taxpayers and you conclude that Canada has turned into a dictator-style banana republic in the space of only a few years.

Today I read in my paper's front-page an article titled Run-for-your-life! for Iraqi Christians. In 2003, Christians in Iraq were over 1 million and violence against them by cuckoo fundamentalists was curtailed by the regime (Saddam). Today there are only 300,000 left, the others having fled and still fleeing the country like there's no tomorrow. This is something I already knew. I also knew that when Saddam was there, Iraq was the most scolarized country in the area, and women were treated as equal to men. Now they are back where fundamentalist Muslims want them: at home, or hidden from the view in public. I won't even mention all the thousands and thousands of children who died in the preceding years due to the embargo. Sure Saddam was a dictator. Just like all the others in the area. The showering of democracy over Iraqi's heads in March 2003 sure was one heck of a blessing, wasn't it? Everybody wants American-style democracy, right? Meanwhile in Ahmerica, Evangelicals and similar freaks ^[*] run around saying to everyone that they have been put on this planet by God to save the world. Apparently, when they ride their gas-guzzling and planet-polluting SUVs and put all their trust in God to save their allmighty dollar and their Constitution, they don't have much thoughts for saving their fellow Christians on this planet. For remembrance, it's because the U.S. overly minded its business in Iraq in 2003 (for the sole purpose of securing oil supplies and nothing else) and left the rest of the free world almost alone to take care of the Afghan problem, which was the only "real" problem back then, is why the Afghan mess is still in the news today, and why some Canadians are still dying over there for nothing.

Last week, it was organ donor week. They had this young Montrealer, late teens, whom they made tv and newspaper reports about, and who is connected to a portable machine that keeps him alive while a heart can be found for him. There was also a program where doctors from Montreal's Institute of Cardiology mentioned that 65 years old is generally considered the ultimate age for a heart transplant, and even then, only if that person is really the only one on a waiting list when a heart becomes available, something that rarely happens. And it's not because the guy won't be able to support the operation, it's because purely for ethical reasons, you don't give a new heart to someone who is close to his natural death, rather to someone much younger. They also mentioned, using careful words but equating to this being a moral disgrace, that 71 years old is like WTF?

There is a war criminal out there who is 71 and who, even if he didn't qualify, very recently received a transplanted new heart. This guy has the blood of thousands and thousands of Iraqis on his hands. This guy, along with others who since have disappeared form public view, is directly responsible for the death of the father of Ali Ismail Abbas, the death of the pregnant mother of Ali Ismail Abbas, the death of the brother of Ali Ismail Abbas, the death of 13 other members of the family of Ali Ismail Abbas, and of the unbearable pain inflicted on Ali Ismail Abbas himself when the bomb he sent over his head in that remote farming house left him with no arms and outrageously burned. I list them all separately, because each warrants a charge, one day, in a war criminals international court. And also because it is way too easy to turn the page and forget. Ali Ismail Abbas can't forget. I can't forget. And when I saw this young guy on tv with his heart-machine, living only on hope and technology, I immediately thought that in a country of 300 million people, it is impossible that one young person out there has not died or will not die because this war criminal was permitted to continue living, stealing that heart because he's loaded to the aces. Money talks, in those pastures. It pissed me to the hilt.

And shame, shame, shame on you, Canadian government, for refusing in 2010 to accept Ali Ismail Abbas as a Canadian citizen, for reasons so stupid one knows immediately that they were arm-twisted by south of the border, who also shunned him out. Of course, everyone knows who was then and is still Prime-minister of Canada. For those who don't, his name is Stephen Harper. He's the new bully on the block on the international scene. Outdoing the Americans, who are even starting to be weary of this loose cannon on the deck. I mean, ya got to do it!

Ali Ismail Abbas is now a British citizen, along with his friend who was also badly injured in the same attack. It's because he insisted in bringing his friend along that Canada refused him citizenship, and the U.S. also, but this I think was already understood. It's a good thing he didn't become a Canadian . Today's Canada is not worthy of him.

I have on tape an interview he gave to our media some years ago, one that Americans have never seen and probably will never see either, because they live in the land of the free I guess. (this was sarcasm). There is however an interview he did give to TIME magazine -> http://www.time.com/time/beyond911/#AliAbbas in which he mentions what equates to preferring staying put and not being bothered by the regime (Saddam) than being showered with bombs over his head for no reason at all. I personally find that adding him to a list of people celebrating "American resilience after 9/11", alongside other war criminals like George W. Bush, is of the utmost bad taste, to stay in publishable terms. But that's only me. Or is it? There are other American-made reports about him. They all celebrate his courage. None, I mean none, mention anything about the American government's involvement and responsibility into what happened to him, or to his family, or to those other thousands and thousands of Iraqis for that matter, then, and still now. That also I find utterly disgusting.

For anyone not remembering who is Ali Ismail Abbas, here's a reminder -> http://blog.freshjive.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/iraq6.jpg

All this to say that I don't have much of the required serenity to post these days, I mean to post something interesting.

^[*] People who say they are pro-life while not minding others who aren't being killed for that, or who support the death penalty, fall under my definition of freak. You're for life or you aren't. If you can't differentiate the two, you're the one with a problem.

God bless the internets

Now that all the nasty stuff has been evacuated, let's move on to something more comforting. This evening, I connected again to the Radio Suisse Romande. This time, I went for the fourth channel they offer, Option Musique, which is mostly oldies, often French-language ones. Tonight, as I connected, the song playing was Le Phoque en Alaska, a Quebec iconic song if there is. Later on they had other favorites of mine, like Morgane de toi by Renaud, etc. When I sat down for my supper, it was past 22h00. At 22h23 (I noted the time cause I had to go check on their playlist) they put on what I thought didn't exist and which I was looking for only days ago, a good English version of Le monde est stone from the late seventies rock-opera Starmania. This song, about a waitress who's fed up with the world surrounding her so much that she just wants to die away, was originally sung by Quebec singer Fabienne Thibeault, a rendering which has never been equalled since. So I was sitting there, eating my oven-cooked salmon fillet when I heard this stupendous (for me) new version, and in English mind you. I rushed to the computer to find out who it was. Cyndi Lauper. I should have known!

I had translated the song some years ago, quite literally I must say. Lauper's version, like most English versions, is much less litteral. So I'll post here both mine and the lyrics she sings. The spirit is the same, but hers is more "politically correct" in some sort, less blunt about the character asking in despair to be "terminated". Then again, of course, her version was not intended for the same clientele. ((I understand myself ).

So, first, Cyndi. I like it, not necessarily for the musical arrangements as much as for her voice which is what I've heard best since the original Fabienne Thibeault version (according to moi, of course ).

Now, the original. There seems to be very few videos available of the original Starmania. The only one with Fabienne Thibault that I found was an appearance on a French television show, in a formal setting not suited at all for the song, with toned down sound not putting her voice in value, and a very annoying abuse of overlayed images. In those days, late 70s, she dressed pretty much hippie style, with long dresses and Janis-style glasses. To check it out, go here Instead, I'll embed this other one, a cheap karaoke thingie but where her celebrated voice is as it should be and which, being a karaoke, also has the French lyrics (with one mistake - the second "au milieu de LA vie" should be "de MA vie"). Under it is my own English translation. Fabienne Thibeault is a Quebecer but has been living in southwestern France for many years now.

Important note: In Québec, "le monde" can either mean "the world" or "the people" in a broad sense, like in "everybody". In this song, it could well be both (or either, rather), and I guess I'll never know what Luc Plamondon really had in mind. Since the English lyrics sung by Lauper were most certainly approved by him, chances lean for the first.

Da food section

Thank god food exists! As a soothing device, I mean. Unfortunately, this section will have to be pre-empted this time around because the above took way too much of my time to edit and it's late amd fish induces drowsiness and... well... that's that. Or as we say in Québec, c'est ça qui est ça!

Rue Ste-Catherine - 2012.04.22 - 14h26

250 000

We were around 250 000 Sunday afternoon in downtown Montreal (organizers say 300 000 but my take is lower) to voice our concern about how this planet is managed, and more so about how our own governments only spell disaster with regards to these matters. From Harper who scrapped Canada's signature on the Kyoto Protocol without asking Parliament and does everything he can to anihilate any group or organisation dedicated to preserving the environment, or who are even remotely against the (his) tar sands, to Quebec's Premier who is about to sell for peanuts our grand north to greedy mining companies all the while spending zillions to build roads for them, when not barging on students with methods worthy of a police State, and in between all those little screwing-ups of the population by those who espouse and force down our throats their neo-conservative agendas ending up in the poor becoming poorer and the rich becoming richer and the planet becoming dirtier and deadier, with a dallop or two or ten of corruption to top it all.

The organisers had planned to make a huge human tree with the marchers/demonstrators, the largest in the world they were saying. Done. Logistically it would have been easier if less people had attended, I think. Trying to keep such a big crowd at bay while others were still coming and coming was not an easy task. They were victim of their own success but, with the help of 800 volunteers, they still managed to direct the crowd in such a way that from above, you could see that tree. It started to dismantle later, at around 15h30.

People were convened to the Place des Festivals downtown for 14h00 and from there were to march up to Mount Royal, near the monument, a distance of 1,6 Km (1 mile). I elected, like many, to go downtown by metro. It was very cold, about 5º C outside, with very strong winds and gusts, which only aggravated the situation. Taking a BIXI was therefore not really an option but even if it would have been milder outside, there was no way I would have found a parking slot for it at destination. All the way from my pad to the metro station, there were much more people than usual heading in that direction, for a Sunday early afternoon. From the elderly to kids in strollers. Once I got to the station itself, there were six long line-ups and the place was jam-packed. I went to the end of the closest line-up, thinking all these people were waiting to pass through the tunstiles. In 26 years, I had never seen such a thing. Then someone, probably an angel from the heavens and standing behind me, pointed out that these people were all in the waiting to buy their ticket, either at the changer's booth or at the automatic ticket vending machines. That's when, looking through the crowd, I saw that indeed it was the case and that many turnstiles were readily accessible. So I headed there, thinking how not very quick I can be at times. Once I crossed on the other side, this is the view I got. For reminders, the Jean-Talon station is at 8 stations from the Place des Festivals, and there are already 7 stations including three in suburban Laval, before the train arrrives to Jean-Talon. One can only imagine how many people were on the wharfs of all those stations.

After one train having gotten into the station and only a trickle of those people having been able to board it, and the time it took for the train to show up, I quickly realized that despite heeding calls all week for people to leave their cars at home and take public transit, our stupid transit company had elected to keep its Sunday service, which is a train only every 7 minutes or so, and that if I wanted to get downtown before the sun would set, I had better find a plan "B" and quick. The BIXI having already been discarded, remained my own car, and my own bike. For the car, it was like for the BIXI, a chance in a zillion to find a parking space, already that there's a chance in a half-zillion on normal days in that area. Remained the bicycle. So I returned home (5 minutes), my mind racing about what I would do. By chance, I had worked on the bicycle a lot last week, cleaning up the chain and gears. When I first tried to turn the rear wheel earlier this Spring, it was stuck tight by accumulated goo on the gear system. I had also last week uppered somewhat the handlebars so as to make it less hard on my neck. I also had put air in the tires with my small hand-held pump, not as much as required but enough to ride. So the choice was either to stay at home (discarded right off the bat) or, and despite the screeching cold and wind, make it a go on two wheels. So I took out again some winter clothing (scarf, gloves) I had put away and put on my leather jacket (good wind breaker) and off I went. I don't know if it's because I cleaned its gears, or the uppered handle bars, or that under heavy hardship people can be capable of the most incredible feats, but I whizzed downtown like on a breeze. When I passed in front of the Hôtel-Dieu hospital, I noticed a remote from the street bike parking apparatus so I decided to leave it there. Stolen or vandalized bicycles are not uncommon, so the farther from the view or the sidewalk they are the better it is. That's when I noticed, hard not to, that my pants were all wet in the seat area. It had been raining for days and my bike seat is made of some kind of spongy material, and with the cold weather, it had not dried out. I hadn't noticed, otherwise I would have put a plastic bag on it. There's not much I could do so besides hoping it was not too obvious. At that point, there was already an overflow of people heading to the Place des Festivals, about 15 minutes below, walking in the bicycle path and some even in the street (St-Urbain). I did ask a guy who was behind me to tell me if it was that obvious and he told me it only looked like darker material, not really 'wet'. I was glad since if the bicycle seat hadn't dried out on my balcony because of the cold, there were not many chances the seat in my pants would either.

As I mentioned elsewhere, church steeples were to ring their bells all across the province for two minutes at 14h00. Twelve hundred did. I was still on my bicycle riding down St-Urbain when I heard the bells.

This is the tree, as seen from above. On that pic, only a portion of the marchers are seen. The rest of the tree, the trunk itself, extended well below, at one point way down to the Place des Festivals where some had not even left yet when the tree started to dismantle, as I heard in loudspeakers when I got there myself. I got corroboration of this from my upstairs neighbor who went downtown also on bicycle with his two-year old daughter, and who never got to reach the mountain, so much there was people. The first pic comes from this site. The second one I scanned from my daily's frontpage (Monday) and doctored it in green. Hey, it was Earth Day, you're green or you're not.

These are two pics I took looking in the incoming direction, the tree top being behind me. I zoomed for the second one. Beyond the farthest we can see is where Avenue du Parc becomes Rue de Bleury, at the level of Sherbrooke St. It goes downhill afterwards so the buildings we see in the end have to be on Sherbrooke or Avenue du Parc. Place des Festivals is downhill, two streets on the left side. Not long before I took these pics, there were still people not having left there yet.

On the site I mentioned above, they also had a link to a short video which is on Youtube and which I embed below. Before the marchers arrived at the foot of Mount Royal, two-time Oscar winner Frédéric Back planted the seed of an oak tree, in a symbolic gesture. Back is a film animator who won one of his Oscars with the celebrated film The Man Who Planted Trees, based on the work of Jean Giono, in French L'homme qui plantait des arbres. Back himself planted thousands of trees on his own property, near Montreal. He was accompanied by Émilien Néron, the child actor whose performance in the movie Monsieur Lazhar left everyone highly impressed. At the end of the video, there is an accelerated part showing the formation of the tree top and also a view of the huge crowd of people not there yet, still coming on Avenue du Parc (and before that, too far to see, rue de Bleury and ultimately Place des Festivals). It's not shown in the video but the march was headed by Amerindian women (from the nation of the Montagnais) who left the Amerindian reserve of Malioténam by foot, some weeks ago. I know Malioténam very well, it's right next to Sept-Iles on the north shore of the St-Laurent river, where I lived for a decade prior to living in Montreal, and which is 950 Km away. A very, very long walk.

The commentary in the video (only 1m34s) is in French, so here is an English translation of it. I downloaded the video and tried to add scrolling subtitles to it but all I have is Windows MovieMaker and it doesn't handle this feature:

«On April 22, 2012, Frédéric Back, the man who planted trees, young 88 year-old indignate, bent towards the Earth in the heart of the city of Montreal to sow an oak, to tell all his attachment to the Earth, generous and fragile, and also to protest against the unjust and abusive exploitation of natural resources in his land. Canada is the only country in the world to have pulled back from the Kyoto Accord. Québec is now engaging in one of the most important exploitation of resources in its history. This way of doing things must be changed. Because they refuse to be dispossessed of the future which we are still permitted to dream about, with Frédérick Back, hundreds of thousands of citizens, men, women and children of good will have taken the streets to tell to their governments and to the rest of the world all the importance they give to global climate warming and to a democratic, just, fair, sensitive and intelligent use of the natural resources of the land they live in, and which are part of the common good. For our world to continue to be and to liberate the future.»

The video:

And if someone has never seen Frédéric Back's film, all I can say is that's it's an absolute must. The English version, narrated by actor Christopher Plummer, is linked above. The French version, narrated by Philippe Noiret, is available here. Another must, imo, is the account of his life as he narrates it in an autobiography on his personal site, from his birth in Saarland (Germany), his passage in Alsace, Paris, Normandy, his immigration to North America and his finally ending up a Montrealer, will bring many souvenirs to those who were there, in France especially but also in neighboring countries which went through the same ordeals, before, during and after WWII, and for the others like me, a fantastic history course underlying the human aspects of what it was back then, the hardships that so many people lived in Europe in those days, and how they managed to pass through it. And it's available in both French and English: Ici -> http://www.fredericback.com/index.fr.shtml or Here -> http://www.fredericback.com/index.en.shtml

I know, many say that Quebecers are dreamers. Not all of them, but those whole believe and engage in such silly activities. Frankly, being a dreamer and not wanting to leave a gigantic dump to the generations that will follow is something I can very well live with.

Weather

I know talking about weather has got to be one of the most uninteresting things to talk about, but these days (more than a week now and for many days yet to come) we have had the shittiest weather in ages: very cold, near freezing point at night, and rain and rain and rain, often accompanied by drizzle or light hail. Terribly depressing.

From Russia With Love?

For almost two weeks now, I've been visited daily and extensively by some sniffer from the "Russian Federation", going everywhere in the tags, audios, videos and everything else. I prefer letting my site open unrestrictedly for anyone to come and see via the posts themselves, but when sniffers bypass my blocking access to videoblogs or audioblogs and the rest, and start accessing and taking inventory of their URLs via the post themselves, it's time to slam the door shut for a while. That's why I temporarily put my site on forced login mode. The last time, it did the trick. Until I remove the forced login, I'm sorry for those who come to check things out at times without logging. I don't have any choice.

Exit Ghost, Exit Roth?

A question I asked in my April 14 entry. The answer came a few days ago and it is yes and no. No because I didn't throw the book away. Yes because I did finish it and I have no plan ever to read it again. Finally, I was already at page 252 of 292, so I was more advanced than I thought. And when I finally finished reading it, I read what was on the back cover and realized I should have read it before buying the book. As I mentioned, this one was sort of a two of two. The first book, it, is titled The Ghost Writer. When you don't remember the exact title, it's easy to get mixed up between the two. I still don't understand the quote which appears on the front cover, by a Montreal Gazette book critic, and which goes «Exit Ghost demonstrates, like the books that precede it, uncompromising courage». I guess I missed something. About the 'courage' thing, I mean, especially that on the back cover it's written «Exit Ghost is an amazing leap into yet another phase in the great writer's insatiable commitment to fiction». How can fiction be courageous?

Da food section

I would have more than one pic to dump here since the last "Da food section", but first it would make this already too picture-heavy post even heavier, and second I've been editing this post on and off since Sunday evening and frankly, I am quite tired of it and it must go. So we'll keep it to a single item.

On another site where many of its readers happen to be the same as those who come here , I was put in contact with a Mexican dish I had never tried yet. It's called 'arroz con leche', rice with milk, literally. It's some kind of dessert. So a few days ago, I went to my favorite latino grocery store (it being midway between my pad and Marché Jean-Talon and Little Italy may explain why it's 'favorite') in search for the holy grail of rice with milk. I expected to find something canned, no success, or something in the area where there are refrigerators for yogurt and other prepared foods of the likes. No success either. I was starting to be a little bedazzled when this clerk passed next to me in an alley (behind would be more correct, since no two persons can pass there, one of the two having to turn 90º and walk like an Egyptian hieroglyph) and I asked her if they carried any arroz con leche. Yes, she said, in the other section (where is a restaurant and also prepared meats and food available for take out). Yep, there it was. Silly me, I was looking for a commercial product. They don't have any of those, they rather prepare it themselves.

I saw on the internet that it is often topped with cinnamon. Not in this case. Instead, it was flavored (or spiced, for purists) with allspice (quatre-épices, in French). Not much, not enough to change the white color, just a trace, as it should. I also saw on the internet that in some countries, they will add "pasas" in them, at times soaked in rum. Pasas are raisins, dried usually. This is where I'm still in the blue. There are in that arroz con leche small fruits which are the size of corinthian raisins [aka currants - 7mm - 3/8" diameter] except they are a light gold color, and look something like gooseberries (groseilles), and are not dry at all. They look, in fact, very fresh. I couldn't tell if they had been soaked or rehydrated in rum, all I know is that a container like this one sells for 3,45$. If you consider that milk and rice are not the most expensive items on the market, there must be something in there justifying that price. I could ask the girl who works behind the counter what they are, but she probably does not know herself, she not being the one who makes it. And in these cases, Latinos (Mexicans at least) will tell you anything because they can't stand someone not being happy or dread hurting someone's feelings. It's a great trait of their culture. It unfortunately becomes also by the same token a "handle with care" bit of information.

Oh, did I forget? It is also very good!

Boulevard St-Laurent - près de/near rue Ontario

Plexing around

In a previous comment, Fauquet asked me if there were any elevators in the building I live in. No there isn't. This is mostly because I live in a part of Montreal where many buildings were built in the first half of the twentieth century, and the then favored residential architecture in popular districts was the plexes. Generally speaking, a plex is a multi-story building, rarely if ever more than three, and more often than not in a row arrangement. The number of dwellings varies between two and five. A duplex has two dwellings, a triplex three, a fourplex four, and so on. Usually there is only one dwelling at ground level, often occupied by the owner, and whose occupants also benefited from the back yard. On the other floors, there can be one or two dwellings. When there are two, they are obviously smaller (less rooms) and much more deeper than wide. But in both cases, the typical inside division was a long corridor permitting to go from the front to the back, lined with the different room doors, and leading to the kitchen which was always in the back, it having a door opening on the rear balcony. In the front, an exterior staircase gives access to the second story balcony, where are the doors for both the second and third floor dwellings. Access to the third floor dwelling(s) is next done through an inside staircase. In the back, the staircase is all outside. Before, it was encased in a shed which also served as a storage area. Due to the many fires that developped there, decades ago the city put up a subsidy program to encourage owners to get rid of them. Nowadays, these sheds have become the exception. All that remains is the staircase itself, formerly wooden, now replaced with wrought iron or aluminum structures. All dwellings from the upper floors have access to a balcony, both in the front and the rear.

These dwellings are all "logements". In Montreal, there is a distinct difference between a "logement" and a "appartement". A "logement" is a dwelling where nothing is furnished. It's the overwhelming majority. On the opposite side, a furnished dwelling is called an "appartement" and is just about only found in those architecturally horrid appartment blocks (we call those "bloc appartements"), having six or more dwellings. Although it is much rarer these days, some "logements" were furnished with only the stove and fridge, and were called "logements semi-meublés". Until recently (eighties), most of these dwellings were rented, except when the owner lived himself on the groud level one. Since then, more and more of them have been changed into condominiums (each dwelling a different owner), which created an artificial rise in value through speculation, it in turn having put rising pressure on the rent for those dwellings still being rented. It is the result of those marvelous world of economics theories where in fact no new wealth is created while some get richer from others getting poorer. Some people actually find it terrible that Montreal is still behind other cities where lodging costs twice or triple. I find that people who whine because they are not screwed as much as others are a little sick in the head. As per the speculation business itself, my opinion on the matter is not publishable here without resorting to obscene words, so I'll abstain.

In the pic below, the building on the left, with the green cornice, resembles a lot the one I live in. It is a three-floor triplex with a single dwelling on each floor. The door on the right on the second balcony is the one opening on the inside stairs leading to the last floor.

The one on its right, with the purple cornice, should normally be a fourplex, having the same arrangement as the previous one except this time with two smaller dwellings on the third floor, as we can see with the two front doors. However, the layout of this building has been largely modified. You can tell by the mailboxes and/or the street number signs. They have separated both the ground and second floors into two dwellings, making it a total of six. The owner of this one obviously does not live there anymore and wanted to cash in on the rents. When you see an "A" or a "B" added to a street number, you know that this dwelling was added later, after the building was built, and here, two of them have an "A". The one on the ground floor is a very rare occurence, and it's only when I noticed the two mail boxes that I realized the situation.

This kind of building can also be found on commercial streets, when the building is directly giving on the sidewalk and where at times there can be a commercial outfit on the ground level. In this case, due to lack of space, the stairs leading to the upper floors can be all inside, but with the door still the same opening on the sidewalk. Besides the famous Montreal outside stairs, this feature of each dwelling having its own front door (and mail box) on the street is very characteristic of this type of architecture.

The other Easter

Last Sunday was the Orthodox Easter. They stage a procession on that day. I was having breakfast when I heard from the distance some sounds resembling exactly like the ones you can hear in a religious procession, and it was coming from the direction where is located an Orthodox church near my pad, right in front of the Bell Tower and the Jean-Talon metro station underneath. The time to get dressed and to walk there, it was too late to take a pic, they were already all inside. I have never been inside that church and I didn't know their customs as per non-Orthodox visitors going there during ceremonies, so I decided to mind my own business for the time being, but still the same took pics of the church which is quite nice. The two slanted parts on each side of the two steeples were not there when I first arrived in Montreal. They were added some years later but I don't know if they were part of the original plan or not. Something I could ask if ever I get to visit the church. For some reason, I am under the impression I have already posted about all this in some years past. Maybe I've been here too long, I'm starting to repeat myself.

Nubrella

Some guy invented a new handless and windproof umbrella which among other things could bring happiness to a lot of bicycle users, especially those who use them to go to work. I found this in the free daily Metro newspaper.

Pic © Jonathan Scott, Metropoint

Swing low, swing high

I was downtown yesterday and saw that they are installing again this Spring the musical swings on the Promenade des artistes, behind Place des Arts, this I'm sure to the pleasure of many. I had posted about those swings on May 14, last year

22 avril

A large demonstration is planned in Montreal for next Sunday, to underline the JOUR DE LA TERRE (Earth Day). The people are asked to congregate at the Place des Festivals for 14h00, and later on there will be a one kilometer march downtown. It's being talked about on television talk shows since many weeks, with a lot of well known public figures having added their voice and talent for the event. Even the Catholic Church joins the bandwagon as all churches will ring their bells at 14h00 Sunday. As with the student's demonstration on March 22, it's hard to tell how many will attend. The weather will sure be a factor. Then there's the involvement factor. Although many people are all for environmental issues, it is not something that people relate to on a very personal basis, more on a global one. Being sympathetic and living using environmentally-friendly ways is one thing. Making the effort to bother attending a demonstration is another. Personally I think that the website created especially for the event sucks (spelling mistakes among others), but that's only me. Their Facebook page on the other hand is much better, with a lot of links to videos (in Youtube, type 22avril) and social media thingies, and also traditional media hype.

Yesterday, when I came back home from a medical appointment, I saw this chalk mark on the sidewalk a few houses from my pad. There are two kids living there, but it could be their dad, for all I care.

The main organizer of this event, or spokesman rather, is Dominic Champagne, a theatre stage director who was hired by the Cirque du Soleil to direct the BEATLES show in Las Vegas. He is heavily involved in combatting the will of the provincial government to permit, or continue permitting since they already started, shale gas (gaz de shiste) drillings which is crap all the way. Ask the people of Pennsylvania and other places where they can set fire to the water coming out of their kitchen taps.

Nothing settled

The student strike situation is degrading by the day, acts of isolated violence popping here and there, and the fault resides mostly with the provocative, total ears shut and even insulting attitude held by the dumbfuck neoconservative government we have, and this since day one of this conflict. This is more of a pleonasm than anything else since I've never heard of a neoconservative government which was not dumbfuck. I would have lots to say about the students, but that'll be for another day. I'll just say that the government thought it was facing a bunch of young whining brats and found itself totally off guard when faced with genial, very articulate and masterful strategists who just fly over all the stupid and obvious booby-traps this government is setting on their path in the hope they will fall into them, tricks that usually work in other spheres of activity. That includes dumping its responsibilities onto the university and college administrations, and encouraging the minority of students against the strike to resort to judicial injunctions and the likes. This doesn't work either. Nor its indulging into petty politics with the opposition. We're in deep social turmoil here. This thing is much greater than only the tuition fees, it's about what kind of education system we want here, and it comes at the same time as corruption scandals in the construction industry involving municipal and provincial governments hit the fan like there's no tomorrow. About the students, who still have the support of major actors in this society, all I can say is that I'm overly impressed, regardless if they win something or not. For them, things will never be the same after. And for many others also. It may not be yet a Quebec Spring, but it sure is far from a Quebec winter.

Laterz...

Day of the free

Just got back from Marché Jean-Talon. I was there among other things to buy some frozen mini-rustiques at the Pain Doré bakery store. They are like mini-rolls except a little longer. I had bought those for years, six at at time, cooked and then freezing them at home myself. They are however also available already frozen, cooked or uncooked. Same for the mini-rolls which I had switched to a few months ago, just for the sake of change. Today I wanted to return to my old loves.

There was a sign on the freezer's glass door showing the prices, $5,49 for either a pack of 10 mini-rustiques or 12 mini-rolls. Same as the previous times. After I headed for the cash register with my minis, the only employee had gone to serve someone else, so I put the pack of minis on the counter along with a five-dollar bill, and holding fifty cents in my hand. When he got to serve me, the cash register showed 5,95$. I told the guy that there must me an error and pointed to the very visible sign on the freezer's door. He went to check with someone else in the backroom and indeed the price had gone up, but obviously they had forgotten to change the sign. He came back and told me «I have to give it to you». I understood «give it to you...at the posted price, 5,49$», and started to hand him the remaining fifty cents along with the 5$ bill. «No, he said, by law I have to give it to you, free of charge». «Well, I replied jokingly, if you so twist my arm, and despite the pain, I'll just have to keep the money. »

In Québec, the consumer's law provides that if you pick an item which sells for 10 dollars or less and the electronic cash register asks for an amount higher than the posted price on or now usually near the item where you picked it up, the merchant has an obligation to give you the item for free. If the price is over 10$, the price must first be brought back to the lower price, then an extra rebate of 10$ has to be applied. All this is a counterpart for the merchants being allowed not to put a sticker price on each and every single item, since the code bar reading cash registers are in service.

I had forgotten about the less than 10$ thing. In my mind, the lower price was to be applied and that was it. After I left with my free bread, I went to the wine store for a bottle of red wine. When I passed in front of the French wines, I saw that C'est la vie! (That's life!) wine which I had already bought a week or two ago, and which was still at a 1,50$ rebate. How befitting, I quickly thought. C'est la vie indeed. Some days suck. This one sure wasn't one of them.

Nuit Blanche - Art souterrain/Underground Art - 2012.02.26/27
Centre Eaton - 03h28

Amnesty

Friend came for supper last Saturday, so we did the Easter dinner one day in advance. Since traditionally it's supposed to be ham, ham it was. Traditionally (in my family and many others at least) it's what you call a "picnic" ham, the kind with the bone and that you cook slowly in water for hours, then you let cool before putting it in the oven, decorated with slices of pineapple and maraschino cherries in their holes, and then glazed with brown sugar and maple syrup. That's too big a ham for me, so I used instead one of those boneless smaller ones, cut thick slices and cooked them in the pan, covered of course with a pineapple slice and the traditional cherry and basted with maple syrup. Served with scalloped potatoes (cooked with onions, milk and corn kernels).

Comes dessert time, this would have been the time to munch into the Paschal Lamb I bought the other day at an Italian pastry shop, but luckily for it, we were not hungry anymore. So there was no sacrificed paschal lamb this Easter, and from the smile on its face, it did seem quite happy about the situation. It will probably end up in the glassed cabinet with the other small thingies I gather here and there during my trips. It will thus join the two new mariachis and a companion guitar player for the violonist I already had from a previous trip. Which brings to mind that I should start posting about my last trip, one of these days.

Had my first BIXI ride of the season yesterday (Thursday). It was nice to renew with it. I truly love roaming around on it. This week I also started to shop for a new urban bicycle, for those day trips here and there which take more than 45 minutes and are outside the territory covered by the BIXIs. I'm a member of Québec's large cylcling organisation, Vélo-Québec. That gives me automatically a subscription to a specialty magazine, Vélo-Mag, where their last number featured a 2012 "shopping guide". I wanted an urban bike, not too cheap but not too expensive either, light (I live on a second floor accessed by a spiraling outside staircase), and with thingies like a chain cover, a stand, a bagage rack and the likes. I found exactly what I wanted in the bike below. It's made in Montreal and sells retail for 550$. Besides, it also has only one gear set (7-speed) in the rear, so no more messing around with two-shifter combinations, which I never got accustomed to in the first place. My current 18-speed 2 pinion touring bike (cyclo-touriste in French) is the kind with curved downwards handle bars and the gear shifters on the downward frame, like a racing bike more or less. The curved handle bar gives me pain in the neck just trying to keep my head in an upward position so as to see where I am going, and since I have balancing problems, handling the shifters when under any effort (climbing a slope, whatever) spelled near death each time I tried, so I basically rarely shifted. Not very practical. So a new bike was on the agenda.

I was about to go buy it when I was remembered that a provincial "get rid or your old polluting car" was still in effect. I thought it has stopped last year. Under this program, in exchange for scrapping your still in use car, you get to choose between different options, a rebate to join a car share outfit, a rebate on public transit, a rebate on buying a bicycle, etc. Generally, something worth around 350$ (or 1500$ if one chooses another option, buying a very recent car). I have to decide if it's gonna be the bike or the car sharing, because I have pretty much decided to get rid of a car altogether. There is nothing interesting (for me) within an hour or two of my pad, traffic is and will remain a mess for the next ten years because of road construction on the island and on the bridges, and with the price of gas now at 1,50$ per liter, I don't see myself passing my time riding a car for the fun of riding a car. The only thing that bugs me is that whatever I decide, the current car has to go by the same token, and I had planned into repainting my apartment this year and I expect having to run back and forth for material and stuff, probably on very short notice at times. On the other hand, I don't want to wait too much before buying the bike. Decisions... decisions...

The proposed new kid on the block.

Old faithful (bought in 1987) here at the tam-tams in 2005.

I won't mind getting rid of the car. I never liked it. I didn't choose it, it was a bargain used car one of my brothers who is a car salesman had found for me in 1996. It was a 1991, had only 22,000 kilometers, and I paid 5,000$ cash for it. Since then I put 10,000$ on repairs and maintenance, 1,000$ of which I could have spared if I had gotten rid of it in 2009. Altogether, excluding gas, insurance and registrations, and the car and its maintenance including oil changes cost me a whopping 15,000$ over 16 years. If THAT is not a bargain, I wonder what the hell is. One company which was probably not so happy about it was Speedy Muffler. I first changed the muffler in 1997, and it carried a lifetime guarantee. Lifetime of the car, that is. Unfortunately, this car lived well beyond their expectations and I had to replace the muffler four times since, in 1999, 2002, 2006 amd 2010. At their expense, needless to say. Mind you, their mufflers are so cheap, it must cost them peanuts to manufacture.

For the bicycle, a Mikado Gaspé, it's another story. I bought it on May 11, 1987, at a price of 633.34$, taxes included, which was then a lot of money for me. Mikados were one of the first quality bikes having been manufactured in Québec (in St-Augustin near Québec City). That company is now long gone, so that bike is vintage, in some way. It has sentimental value for me, having served me well for 25 years, so I don't plan to get rid of it any time soon.

Da food section

Some of the stuff I had in the last week.

A typical Mexican desayuno item (breakfast): frutas con yogurt y granos, fruits with yogurt and grains (granola, usually). Frankly, as per nutritive value goes, this is hard to beat. However, let me make myself very clear here: I do not usually go into such detailed and fancy presentation. This was done for the sole purpose of impressing those who might look at this picture on this blog. Besides, there should be some kind of melon in there (cantaloupe) to accompany the papaya (although it's usually made with what's on hand as per fruits go), and the yogurt should be the plain more liquidish one. I only had heavy greek yogurt, and filled with blueberries at that. That's why it looks a little lumpy.

The same day, I tried a variant of the Fauquet-inspired veal liver with garlic. Last time, I cooked the veal in butter where whole garlic cloves had slowly cooked until tender, and the veal cooked in this perfumed butter and then served with the garlic cloves as an accompaniement. This time around, I cut the garlic in thin slices and cooked it with the veal. It didn't burn, and became something like mini garlic chips. Not bad, tastewise. I'll try it again. I forgot this time to sprinkle chopped parsley. Then again, maybe it would have been superfluous

This is a strange recipe I found on the net. It's supposed to be Spanish, its name being "Alitas de pollo a la cordobesa", chicken wings Cordoba style. Basically, it's curried chicken wings with sliced almonds and mushrooms. The taste is not bad, the almonds remain crunchy under the tooth, but there's no way for the chicken to become tender, I mean in a way that can be eaten with a fork, with the meat separating easily from the bones. I tried it twice, the second time using half wings, half legs, and cooking it longer. It was a little better but still a mess to eat. Eating fried chicken with the hands is one thing. Eating the same way a meal made to be served in a plate is another. There must be some trick to tenderize that chicken, some kind of marinade maybe. I'm a little frustrated by it all. April 5 (white wine and peas) and 9 (red wine no peas).

I did again, for the third time, the "sopa de raja" thing, this time as I had indicated earlier, with a little less pasta and a little more beans. Tastewise, just as good as the previous time. This one definitely made it to the billboard. It was attributed the number 207 spot in my personal cookbook during a private ceremony to which I was the only one to attend.

The keen eye has probably noticed that I bought recently a pack of cherry tomatoes, which I try to pass the best I can. I think there were 18 orginally in the pack, which still contains 11. It's a work in progress kind of. But at that rate, I will have to find something more drastic than using one or two a day here and there. Maybe some kind of salad?

Awakenings

Spring flowers like crocus and the likes are only starting to come out here. Next week the temperatures are expected to rise and rain is forecasted, so that can only be good for all things vegetal to finally get out of bed and start their summer day.

Unrest

Most students are still on strike. Some others not anymore. Tensions are building up between both groups. The government is still playing dead, when it's not fuelling civil unrest.

April 22 - Earth Day

A large demonstration is planned downtown (at the Place des Festivals) on Sunday April 22, for Earth Day (Jour de la Terre), at 14h00. There is a Youtube thingie about it and you can tell there are still a good lot of cro-magnons out there. They are as affected as anyone else by the planet going down the drain but they are too stupid to understand it. In French, you call such people "cocus contents". It is NOT a compliment.

Exit Ghost, Exit Roth?

Philip Roth is a famed American writer. I only say this by hearsay. Six months ago I knew nothing about Philip Roth. Now I know he's an old writer. For starters.

When I went on a trip down east last fall, and paid a visit to my friend who built that castle, he was reading Philip Roth's "Exit Ghost" when I arrived there. At one point, he went to answer the phone and during that time, I started to read the first page of that book. I immediately got hooked. I asked him when he came back who Roth was (I had heard the name before but that was about it) and he also told me that this book was kind of a sequel to another one. In other words, it would be better to start with the other one first. I took note of all this on a little piece of paper. I hadn't read an English book in years (40? ) and thought to myself, why not give it a go, since it seems interesting. When I got to Montreal, I of course lost the piece of paper. A couple of weeks later, I went to an English library and asked if they had any Philip Roth books, or rather I told them that I was looking for a book of his whose name I didn't remember but that it would hit me if I saw it. So the clerk brought me to the Philip Roth section and when I saw Exit Ghost, bing bang bong, that was it. I of course forgot then that this book was some kind of 2 of 2. It was a paperback edition and for some reason discouted at only 10$, so it was a sale.

I started reading it a bit at a time, after going to bed. At first, he did catch my attention. However, it soon turned into a bore as per moi is concerned. First I'm not too crazy about people who write books about themselves being the main character of their book and who happens to be a writer. Second, his obsession about sex, which he couldn't have anymore following a prostate operation (I'm talking about the character, Roth I don't know) which left him impotent and incontinent, having to wear diapers, at some point got on my nerves. More so when he started to heavily cruise the young wife of a naive young writer who deeply admired him. I still have to read about 20% of it. I should just throw it away but I'm the silly type of person who doesn't quit on these things. I started it, I must finish it.

Now, by one of those curious coincidences that happen in life, just a few days ago, I was reading another column by my fetish columnist Pierre Foglia (I've posted translated columns of his here before), and why do I read?

«What's left of this column won't talk about books since I have not read a single one, in the last months, that would merit more than three or four lines. I won't talk about books, but around a few of them
[..]
And another resounding piece of shit that I won't finish: the last Sollers. What is starting to get on my nerves with Sollers, 76, as with Philip Roth, 80, most likely the greatest American writer still alive, it's sex. As if, at their age, which is also mine [Foglia is 71], they still screwed like there's no tomorrow every five minutes. »

I wouldn't have said it that way, but that's pretty much it.

I must make an effort to get that book over with. I have the last Dany Laferrière in the waiting since before I left for Mexico. I've yet to read a Laferrière book that doesn't spell candy. And when he talks about sex, it's the real thing, not an old fart's fantasy fetched from his past.

Nuit Blanche - Art souterrain/Underground Art - 2012.02.25/26
Entre/Between Centre de Commerce Mondial/Métro Square Victoria - 01h56

Thoughts of the season

Friday, after watching a superb documentary on television about famed (in Québec) singer/composer/television host Jean-Pierre Ferland, I hit Youtube for a trip down memory lane and stumbled on a new (better quality) video of a song of his which I've posted about many times in the past. It's the version coming from the Céline Dion concert in Québec City in 2008, for the 400th Anniversary celebrations of that city, and where she was accompanied on stage by Jean-Pierre Ferland himself, and also by Ginette Reno, who had sung that same song on Mount-Royal in Montréal in 1975, for the then St-Jean-Baptiste Day (now the Fête Nationale) mega-concert, a rendering that became nothing short of historical. This newer one may not be as politically charged than back then, but it is still something very powerful. The song is of course Un peu plus haut, un peu plus loin.. I'll link that video and its lyrics (my translation) later in the post.

But for now I'd like to talk of another Ferland song, since we're still currently in a heavy turmoil involving 200,000 striking students (since mid-February), and also very accessorily, that Ferland mentions the "cents" I've talked about in a recent post, which is here written and pronounced "cennes".

That song is called Avant de m'assagir (Before settling down). What's it got to do with student protests? That song was written and released in 1966, not long before Ferland moved to France for some years. It was also a song he wrote in his pre-Jaune years. Jaune (Yellow) is an album which was released in 1971 and which smashed our music scene, and still does today after forty years. It was recently turned into a musical and actress/singer Charlotte Gainsbourg also recently did a cover for one of the songs of that album, Le chat du café des artistes. All other songs on the album had a life of their own, the most famous being Le petit roi. Jaune is an album which put the old Ferland on the shelves, the one who had written a universally known song in the French-speaking world, Je reviens chez nous. That song, as he mentioned in that documentary last evening, and unbeknowst to probably all those millions who sang and still sing it worldwide around camp or beach bonfires, is really what the title says, about returning home. What he did not say then was that it was about his own returning home, after a few years in France, because he was suffocating over there. Here in Quebec (Charlebois if only to name one), and in the Anglo-Saxon world, music was on a revolution path, while in France, in those years, it was stuck in old-style cement. It's not long after his return that Jaune was released and that the new Ferland was born. It has been history since. Another album was released that same year, Soleil, which I'll probably post about also later, because of one song in particular that brings me back lots of souvenirs. In view of this, the song below was somewhat prophetic, in the sense that even back in 1966, we can feel that he had something in him that had to be released (like all Quebec in the 60s for that matter), and it all happened with Jaune, five years later. Comparisons are flimsy, but the release of Jaune was in and on a Quebec scale, of the same importance as the release of Abbey Road was for the Anglo-Saxon world of music. Now, you may ask, what is it again that this song has to do with late sixties student protests? When it was composed, it was barely two years before May 68, but more so three years before I was myself involved to my eyeballs into that same type of activity. And in those days, one song that I liked listening to a lot was that one. For obvious reasons, once having heard (or read) the lyrics.

It is musically rather old-fashioned, no doubt, but what he talks about hasn't taken a wrinkle.

And now that other video which gives me goosebumps whenever I watch it, especially in this high definition format (which makes full screen a delight). What an incredible song! And what a performance! Ferland had officially retired from showbusiness only months earlier, but made an exception for this. I don't know if I mentioned this before, but Céline Dion's agent and husband, René Angélil, had first wanted to make an international star of Ginette Reno, but she preferred at the time to decline, being involved in some romantic situation. Angélil then went in search of someone else and found the then very young Céline Dion. The rest we all know. I, and so many others, still think Ginette Reno made a very bad move. She surely would have had a fantastic international career. But on the other hand, we got to keep her, selfishly, all to ourselves. If Céline is a voice, Ginette is a soul. The difference here is staggering.

UN PEU PLUS HAUT, UN PEU PLUS LOIN
Lyrics and music: Jean-Pierre Ferland
(my translation - could be bettered ^{[Note: lyrics updated Apr 9]})
[exactly as sung in the show - original song differs slightly]

A little higher, a little farther
I want to go a little farther
I want to see how it is up there
Take my arm and hold my hand

A little higher, a little farther
I want to go still farther
Let go of my arm, but hold my hand
I won’t go farther than needed

Still one more step, still one more jump
A storm and a small river
Be careful... I let go of your hand
Wait for me down there, I will be back

Still one more step, one small step
Still one more jump and I'm up there
No... if I don't fall...
No… I'm there! I am not falling!

Beautiful! It's beautiful!
Beautiful! It's beautiful!
If you could see the world
Far away down there
Beautiful! It is beautiful!
Beautiful! It is beautiful!
The seas smaller than oneself
But we can’t see each other...

[Ginette arrives]

A little higher, a little farther
I want to go a little farther
I want to see how it is up there
Take my arm but hold my hand

A little higher, a little farther
I want to go still farther
Let go of my arm, but hold my hand
I won’t go farther than needed

Still one more step, still one more jump
A storm and a small river
Be careful... I let go of your hand
Wait for me down there, I will be back

Still one more step, one small step
Still one more jump and I'm up there
Up there... if I don't fall
No… I'm there! I am not falling!

Beautiful! It's beautiful!
Beautiful! It's beautiful!
If you could see the world
Far away down there
Beautiful! It's beautiful!
The seas smaller than oneself
But you can’t see me...

A little farther, a little lonelier
I don't want to be far away all alone
Come here and see how well we are
When we're high up here!
Oh, how well we are!

A little higher, a little farther
I can't hold your hand anymore
Tell me how I got to climb up here
Tell me how to come down without falling

A little farther, a little harder
One more jump... try again!
I’d like to stretch my arms to you
But I am too high, you are too far!

One more step, one small step
You’re way too far! I love you!
Goodbye! Goodbye! I will be back
If I can come back down without falling

It's beautiful! It's beautiful!
If you could see the world,
Far away down there
Beautiful! It’s beautiful!
The seas smaller than oneself
But you can’t see me...

A little higher, a little farther
I want to go much more farther
Just maybe, a little higher
I'll get to find other ways.

Maybe so, maybe so,
I love you, still the same
Goodbye! Goodbye! I will be back
If I can come back down without falling

It's beautiful….. It's beautiful!
If you could see the world,
Far away down there
Beautiful!
It's beautiful
The world a little higher (chorus)
It's beautiful!

It's on these two wonderful songs about hope, resilience, optimism and urges to munch into life, that I wish you all a very Happy Easter!

And, may I just add that for all the same reasons as those brought to mind by these songs, I also did have a thought for a Californian of our knowing who is currently not in the best situation one could be in and who may find some inspiration and comfort in them. Better is never out of reach, in due time. Be it true or not, I do believe in this.

Addendum - April 9

Translating songs can be extremely frustrating. Sometimes not, like in the case of «Avant de m'assagir» which just flowed out of my mind like water from the tap. But in the case of «Un plus plus haut, un peu plus loin» it has always been a totally other ball game. I must be up to the fifth or sixth updated version, and for the first time, without it being exactly what I've been looking for, I can say I'm somewhat satisfied. The difficulty of course resides in this song being full of imaginary references, poetic in a sense, and the words used to express this are not always used in their usual context or don't refer to the reality they usually refer to. And it does happen, although it's more frequent translating from English to French, that an expression using only few words will require much more in the other language. In a song where rythm is important, that can be quite problematic.

As an example of this kind of frustration, there are two verses which from the start always left me on my appetite. They are «Si tu voyais le monde / Au fond là-bas». Literally, it translates as «If you could see the world in the bottom over there». It's not hard to see that the problematic part was «Au fond là-bas». In the context of the song, we have this person who has reached a level very high in the air (or some evanescent spiritual place outside the material world) where he has a vantage view of the planet or a good chunk of it, in such a way that the world lies down below him, seen as if he was somewhat offset, the world appearing to him like in the distance. Furthermore, in this context, the distanced viewpoint in 'au fond là-bas' also implies (that's the poetic part) something like «that planet down there is set in a much grander scheme of things». Translated that would be something like «If you could see our world lying down below, way over there in the distance leading to the great everything.» That's too long, too many words.

My initial translation was, I think, «If you could look down and see / The world way down there». Then after hearing a live version by Ginette Reno, I changed this for «If you could look down and see / The world lying down there». Finally, after first hearing the live Quebec 2008 version, I had settled for «If you could look down and see / The world lying down over there» which is what I posted above yesterday. However, none of these satisfied me since they did not render what that damn «au fond là-bas» was all about, that is the impression of greatness viewed from above but also the impression of the much larger greatness it was set in. And I still found those words clumsy. So this morning, back to the drawing board. After messing around on different dictionary/translation/google search sites, I ended up with «If you could see the world / Far away down there». It still does not fully satisfy me as per the grand scheme of things goes, although I think it's an improvement, but at least we get a better understanding of the amazement the person above is trying to communicate to the one down below. Well, I think. Then again, maybe it could be «If you could see the world / All spread out down there» . Needless to say, I welcome any suggestions.

There is also the «la mer» (the sea) that bugs me somewhat. In this song it's used in the sense of all seas, the oceans, their awesome immensity sort of, and how they look so small as seen from far away in the sky, and not one sea in particular. I changed 'sea' for 'seas' but maybe 'ocean' or 'oceans' would be better. Don't know. And another hard to translate expression was «Je n'irai pas plus loin qu'il faut». This means here something reassuring like "hold my hand, don't worry, trust me, I won't high enough to put you in danger". All I could come up with until now was «I won’t go farther than needed» and frankly, that sucks.

I know I'm nit-picking here but I want this to be perfect, and I won't rest until it is, if it's only in ten years. Maybe it's because this song has meant and still means a great deal to me. And also because I believe Ginette Reno is one of the greatest interpreters alive, and that Jean-Pierre Ferland is one of the greatest songwriters in the French-language musical scene, plus his songs having been a great part of my life, especially in my early twenties when the Jaune and Soleil albums were released.

So this is how I can lose two or three hours or more in a day, on something that rock bottom is approaching absolute futility, and furthermore even posting about it . Whether this is pathetic or not remains a question put out in the open and for others to gauge. However, the needle of my personal null-o-meter sways pretty much towards the [+] side, I must say.

Nuit Blanche - Art souterrain/Underground Art - 2012.02.26
Quelque part sous/Somewhere under Caisse de Dépôt et Placement du Québec - 01h23

Mind blowing...

To prevent it from sinking into the pandoro between the time it is packaged and the time it is eaten, Melegatti puts the vanilla-flavored icing sugar in a separate package, and instead of using an Italian equivalent of "icing" or "very fine" the Italians use another word, the term "impalpabile" which also says what it says, too fine to be felt with the fingers. It does exist in French but not used in this context. I don't know if it's because the Catholic Pope was in the news recently and there was talk of his old age and possible departure for another world maybe sooner than later, but I first read "impapabile" and wondered what the hell the Pope had to do with icing sugar. Papabile is of course the term used to describe the cardinals who are deemed serious contenders for the job, whenever a Pope dies (naturally or otherwise). Although some cardinals may probably be sweet persons, I already knew that icing sugar on the other hand is certainly impapabile and I didn't understand why Melegatti was reminding me of such obviousness.

My mind is like zucchero impalpabile - it can easily be blown all over the place.

More from the Nuit Blanche

In the underground passageway under Place Jean-Paul Riopelle (where's the water/fire fountain between Palais des Congrès and Caisse de Dépôt). For the nostalgics of the food sold in IKEA restaurants. If you have never eaten in an IKEA store, believe me, you will survive.

Add-on: the above work of art consisting of a long and single poster (I had to make three pics to pick it all) represents a roll of 35mm film on which there are 23 exposures of the same plate photographed in an IKEA store restaurant, and in which the "swedish" meals they serve there have been rearranged by the artist to form the phrase "I LOVE SWEDISH CUISINE".

More on the cent, penny, sou story

I forgot to mention two things. In Québec, a twenty-five cent coin (a quarter) is almost universally called a "trente sous" (thirty sous). I don't call it that way but that's only because I was born in another province. I don't know why that is, there probably was a coin of that denomination and value when the sou was the currency, that is when we were under the French Regime (before 1760). I think the sou was still used for some years under the British Regime but I don't know more about it and right now I am too laze to look it up (it's 23h43). Second, we, and this time this includes me, never pronounce the "t" in "cent". In other words, it should be pronounced in both French and English like the English word "sent" (past of to send), but we pronounce it as if the 't' in that 'sent' was missing. We therefore pronounce (and very often write it) as "cenne". In the case of 'cinq cents' (aka 0,05$, not 500 ), we also don't pronounce the 'q' of 'cinq' so it ends up like cincennes, same as the Bois de Vincennes woods in Paris but with a C instead of a V. Mind you, when we talk of twenty cents, then it IS like Vincennes. So much ground covered since the amoeba (amibe), to finally end up with this. Fascinating isn't it?

Da food section... or simply put, a second chance...

This is what I had last week and which had put my innards in a limbo. Well, it wasn't exactly this. The other one had in it old and almost black dried tomatoes, I had used dry kidney beans instead of canned white kidney beans resulting in endless cooking, I had used pennette (mini-mini penne pasta) which became gorged with liquid (because of the endless cooking), I had put the highly questionable grated parmesan in the soup and had mixed it in, and all this overcooking had made much of the liquid evaporate. The result was a deep brown goo. A visual disaster in the plate, and eventually also a disaster down below. I could have taken a pic and post it here (like a before and after thingie) but considering what it looked like, I judged it would be better not. I have manners. Besides, what was left of that first version is now in the trash bin. This time however, I did it right, buying cute shell pastas, expensive San Marzano dried tomatoes, canned kidney beans, and I only sprinkled the cheese and parsley at service time. It is night and day compared with last week's first trial. Since we're talking about night and day, the still unknown on this here night is what will happen comes next day. All I know for now is that it was quite good, even if once again the wine I had was not really a good match for this dish. A Spanish tempranillo would have been better. It's supposedly a Spanish recipe and is called "Sopa de Rafa". I found it on the net. Rafa is not a Spanish word to my knowledge, so I suppose it's someone's name.

Add-on April 4 PM: Glad to report no digestive inconvenience this time around. By elimination, chances are great that the bad beer I had that time was probably the culprit. It sure wasn't the cheese. I used some taken from the same block I had used the other day.

Nuit Blanche - Art souterrain/Underground Art - 2012.02.26
Place Ville-Marie - 03h07

Warning: another picture-heavy and never-ending post. Enter at your own risk.

Horror in the city

Of what I can remember, I was in the metro heading towards a downtown station, on my way to participate in a student demonstration. I had a winter coat on, and which I eventually removed because it was quite hot in the metro, and I tossed it on the train floor. I also had hanging from my neck, attached with a string, a light blue cardboard sign sporting a protest slogan, for the demonstration. When I got to destination, I followed the crowd only to soon realize that I had forgotten my coat in the train. It was too late, the wagon doors were closed and the train was leaving. I decided to take the next train, and stop at the next station hoping someone unboarding there and having found my coat would leave it on the wharf, on a bench or something. There was also the possibility that some people (a homeless or someone else) would then find it and take it away. All I knew was that at least I had a piece of identification in one of the pockets so if anyone honest would find it, maybe they'd try to reach me. There was also the possibility that no one would pick it up from the train's floor and that it would be sent to the metro's lost and found department, once having reached the end of the metro line. After a short time, the next train came in and I got on board. It was quite full. I then realized that the next station was Toronto. (this is the horror part ). I was near and facing a door, with two girls standing between it and me. I asked them if they spoke French or English, they both replied English. We then talked about something I don't remember what it was. What I did remember is that the railroad was on some kind of causeway and that I could see water when looking beyond the girls, calm waters, a lake or something. When we got at the station, I was suddenly for some reason now on the other side of the wagon, near the other door that didn't open. It was so full of people that I did not have the time to manage my way as to get out the train in time before the doors closed. I was stuck in the leaving train with maybe my coat somewhere on the wharf.

That's when I woke up, in a state of great anxiety, it was 5h00 AM Friday morning, and I had to get up because I didn't want that lurid and stupid nightmare to continue on. Especially that in real life I would never toss my coat on a metro wagon's floor and therefore that story just never could happen in real life. Unfortunately, however, Toronto does exist.

Not a good week for americana

First that Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman story. Yesterday, Zimmerman's brother came on CNN to recite a fantasmagoric version of the events that would make Lewis Carroll (Alice in Wonderland) pale with envy. Before that some other guy, in a live interview, told Piers Morgan that he had no business reporting about that event because (not his exact words) he was a foreigner and knew nothing about Americans. They say Zimmerman is Hispanic. Hispanic is a word invented by closet American racists to describe Spanish-speaking people who are NOT 100% White and who themselves or parents of theirs came from south of the border and have Amerindian blood. You will never hear a Mexican of pure Spanish descent being called an Hispanic in the United States. When was Vicente Fox, or Felipe Calderón these days, called an Hispanic in the American media? And you never hear anyone saying Obama is White while he is as White as Zimmerman is, by their so-called description, Hispanic. If Zimmerman and Obama lived in Mexico, they would be called mestizos.

Meanwhile Fox News on its front page (I go there once every 6 months to check their evolution - yet to find anything to report) still carries an article and a video claiming that Trayvor Martin agressed and beat Zimmerman, despite this theory having been shred to pieces by the police video made public, not to mention that nothing in Zimmerman's version makes any common sense and HE was the one with the gun. This is more than bad faith. This is downright disinformation. Lying, in laymen's words. Not foxy at all.

Then there's this headline I saw on the same Fox News site, presenting as some kind of scoop or at least "revelation" the fact that according to Osama bin Laden's wife, the bearded guy, and his family, lived for nine years in Pakistan. Some weeks ago, there was a program on Radio-Canada adressing this and other issues in the area and where one of its reporters mentioned that he knew from the start that Bin Laden was no more in Afghanistan nor in a cave. Initially, bin Laden's videos were shot in rudimentary conditions and both by his and his 'colleagues' apperance and the surrounding 'decor', it was obvious they were in hiding in some the setting close to, and probably, a cave. Then suddenly, he was sending videos whose video quality, settings and appearances made it clear he was not at all in some hole somewhere but in a comfortable place. And at the time, in the footsteps of the Afghanistan invasion, Americans and its allies had total control over that country. That made it virtually impossible that this comfy place was in Afghanistan. It doesn't take a wizard to figure out that Pakistan in next on the list. Well, even that it seems was beyond the comprehension of the US intelligence services. In that program I mention above, they also talked about how this situation of theirs is endemic, listing many of the events of the last 50 or 60 years when they were "caught by surprise". One of the most famous one of course being them waking up on September 12, 2001, realizing they had virtually no one speaking or understanding Arab in their ranks. When you know how that region is a hot spot since the first part of the 20th century, such carelessness (or thinking way too much of oneself) just boggles the mind. And this is not the worst. In that same program I mention, they talked about Binny's four wives, but especially the first one who went through a lot for her man over the years, and just could not put up with the last one. She would be the one who would have squealed about Bin Laden's location. If this is really the case, it would mean that those intelligence services would still be looking for him, their fingers stuck deep into their noses.

Finally, in the hypocrisy department, the MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America - America here being of course understood as USA) and which gives the ratings to the movies shown in that country, gave an "R" rating to Bully (released March 30) and sticks to its decision despite protest. "R" means that anyone 17 or under must be accompanied by an adult to see this movie. The decision is apparently solely based on the fact that you can hear a few "fucks" here and there in the film. It just happens that Bully is a movie about bullying amongst children, a rampant and socially ignored problem if there is one, resulting in youngsters killing themselves, or left psychologically scarred for life. The natural audience for this film, the bullies and their victims, are exactly those whom the MPAA stops from watching it. The guy who posted the video below writes in video overprint: «MPAA rated the movie R-Rated! Can you guys believe that?». You bet I can.

The film will be released on April 13 in Québec, under the title Intimidation. It is classified GENERAL. That means that anyone alive can view it.

In the rest of Canada, it will be PG (Parental Guidance), which does not set theatre entry restrictions but suggests parental guidance. What the hell for? Isn't the lack of parental guidance one of the first causes of some kids turning into bullies? In the hypocrisy department, they don't fare much better than their neighbors south of their border.

Down with the blacks

Now, now, let's not get overexcited here. I have not turned into a racist even if, as I watch some so-called Whites act, I'd be tempted to at times. No, I'm talking about the Canadian cent, or penny as they call it in English-speaking North-America. In Québec, it's sometimes called a "sou noir" (noir=black). The "sou" is an ancient French currency, in use when they first came here some centuries ago, as the term penny is also a remnant from past British glory. A cent is the hundredth part of a dollar, and appears under the form of a coin made with copper, zinc and other materials which turn black with time (hence the name sou noir and of which we know that it costs more to produce than what it's worth. Hence the recent decision by the federal government to get rid of it. It's about time. They serve no useful purpose, in the end. And as a fringe benefit, it will be that much less millions of faces of a foreign monarch circulating in Canadians' hands and commercial activities.

Death of a tree - and the burial of 27 years of my life

Yesterday, they cut one of the two large trees there were in the backyard. It was an "érable à giguère" (botanical = Acer negundo), apparently called Manitoba maple by some in anglo circles. The name "érable à giguère" would be a deformation of "érable argilière", which is how the French in Illinois described it in 1814 (aka French page of Wikipedia - no mention of this on the English page although they list an extensive list of other names, including some from Russia - history is written by the winners, as the saying goes). The name "érable américain" (American maple) is also used by some in Québec. This tree apparently should have remained where the Illinois French first saw it, because a dry and urban environment, and in Québec at that, would not at all be this tree's natural habitat. For some reason it landed here and it is quite common, and considered by some at the same level as weed, sort of.

That tree is not very disciplined and grows erratically, therefore needing to be trimmed once in a while, which it wasn't. Official reason spat out by downstairs neighbor: it was sick and dangerous. Well, I've been living here for over 25 years and every downstairs neighbor told me that the tree was sick. It did not prevent the tree from growing and growing endlessly over those years. I've heard of worse sicknesses. My take is that those people saw branches with pieces of bark missing. That had nothing to do with the tree. It's the squirrels who eat the bark in winter, when they are out of food. That tree's bark must be more tender and appetizing to squirrels than other trees, that's all. It also served as their home (and birth ward ) since the tree was hollow in its upper part, where the main branches parted and the tree looked like the knuckles of someone suffering from a bad case of arthritis. I had never seen the core of the tree of course, but it was clear to me with the number of squirrels hanging around on and near that tree that they had a winter resort stashed in there. Like for the so-called sickness, it has always been like that so I doubt it had any real influence on the tree's solidity. But when they cut and sliced that section (about one meter long, nothing in comparison with the whole tree), neighbor took many pictures as if to prove he was right. Then again, that tree was standing right on the property line separating us and the city's parking lot behind, and therefore no one has ever claimed the tree, not wanting to get involved in some bureaucratic limbo. I'm pretty sure neighbor, of what he told me, did not bother getting "all" the required authorizations. He's got two very young children, they will therefore use the yard, and I can understand his fear that a branch could fall on them. So when he told me about his intentions, I didn't really put much opposition. I'm only a renter (he's not my owner, that one lives elsewhere) and I didn't want him to be pissed at me for years because of any obstruction of mine. Nevertheless, I already feel the loss. Since forever, in summer, that tree blocked the view from those ugly buildings lining Plaza St-Hubert. But more so, sick or not, it harbored life. It was regularly roamed by those squirrels and a lot of birds came and went on its branches. Hearing only birds on a Sunday morning, when the city is quiet, reminds me that there can be some life besides human zombies and concrete sidewalks in a big city. Now there will be less birds and a splendid view on a pile of bricks stacked one over the other.

This is the last pic I took of the tree, a few days ago. You can see a squirrel there, and a bird, a few branches below.

Close-up of the critters.

The new view. On a cloudy day with shitty rain like today, it's to die for. I mean literally.

They say there's always a good side to everything . Last fall I think, I first noticed those two round things which appeared on the back of that red brick building which is a municipal pool. In the distance and through the tree's branches, they seemed to me like new ventilation fans. There was none there before. I was a little weary about it, because if they were indeed fans, there was a good chance they would be noisy and in summer that would spell anything next to disaster, especially in the evenings outside on the balcony, and at night. Now that the tree is gone, I found out they are in fact the loudspeakers of a ghetto blaster painted on that wall (click on the pic above for a closer view). I never thought that one day I would be awfully glad to find a ghetto blaster in my vicinity. Until a year and a half ago, I used the back fence door quite often, and I would have noticed this painting somewhat earlier. But since the lower story was sold (it was rented before, like my apartment), the new owners act as if the yard was for their sole usage (the three floor owners each pay one third of the taxes for that part of the property, and that's included in my rent). At first glance it seems normal because here triplexes usually had only one owner, and if the first floor was rented (not occupied by the building's owner), its higher rent reflected the usage of the yard. Now they transform those buildings into condos, each floor a different owner, but people continue to act as if it was like before. Mind you, at the price they paid for that apartment... not worth the amount at all. But that's their problem, not mine. Anyways, they have rearranged the walkways leading to the fence from the back wrought iron stairs in such a way that it's impossible to pass there without seeing everything inside, furthermore that before being put up for sale the apartment was renovated and a patio door was installed right under the stairs. Last summer, they installed patio chairs and tables right under my and the upper floor's flower beds. These things need to be watered daily, if you know what I mean. Since they are there, I've made great efforts not to make too much noise walking to and fro in my apartment, or keeping my sound system level to a minimum, but this is a 1910 wood structured building, not one with concrete floors. Noise is unavoidable. The other day, when he told me about the tree, I asked casually if my walking around in my apartment bothered them. He told me something about a luminary in his kitchen area where a ceiling luminary having free standing glass parts kind of clinged when I walked in that area. The way he explained the location, it's most likely right under where is my computer. My computer and me are siamese twins. We're always together. So either he lives with it or he changes his luminary. I didn't tell this to him of course. I have manners. All in all, it stresses me, and I am slightly displeased about it. They are nice people, he's a young college professor, but if they finish by taking too much undue space in my life, I might have a slight reaction. And maybe install a bird feeder on my balcony. But since both upstairs and downstairs are not that noisy, I can live with it for now. Besides, last fall, I accidentally spilled some water in my bathroom and it seeped down to theirs, making their ceiling tiles wet. I had a small portable electric heater which I offered them to use to help in drying them up. Haven't seen it since. Hate to knock on the door and say, "you wouldn't have seen my heater, by any chance?" I know all this interests no one, I just needed to vent a little. And it's been raining all day here so the mood is in tune with the weather.

Da food section

This is the beer I had (a trial, and a very conclusive one, in the 'never again' meaning of the word) the day prior to my recent digestive system 'disorders'. I doubt it had anything to do with it, both these beers and their bottles are sterilized. But strictly on the taste/looks department, it was a complete failure. First it had no froth at all. I mean none. Second, I know it was not 'on lees' but still the same, seems to me that a "blanche" should at least have a trace of opacity. This one was clear and transparent as a cheap lager. I don't understand the label either. What's that girl doing there? What's she got to do with "blanche", with Belgium, or coriander/curaçao for that matter. Baffles me. That company makes other beers which I like, but this one, what a drag...

Yesterday I made something for supper which I do about twice a year. More simple to prepare than that, you grab the phone and order a pizza. It's "Poulet au xérès" (Chicken a la sherry?), recipe #087 . Maybe I can spit out the recipe in a single line: brown salted/peppered chicken in butter, cover, slow cook 25 minutes, add chopped shallots, cook 10 minutes, add xérès mixed with corn starch (or arrow-root) and when thickened, serve with neutral element (pasta, potatoes). It is absolutely delicious. For a limited time only, I'll supply ingredient quantities free of charge upon request.

Xérès (or Jerez in Andalucian) is a sweet white wine but alcoholized at 20%, and made in the region surrounding Jerez de la Frontera, in Spain's Andalucia (as if there was another one). It is called "sherry" in English. On the English Wikipedia page, they say that «The word "sherry" is an anglicization of Xeres (Jerez).» "Sherry" and "Jerez" sounding alike? If you believe this, you also believe George Zimmerman. "Jerez" is pronounced somewhat like hey-rrrezz with the "h" souding like it had spit in it. My take is different. I'm of the persuasion that it's another example of how the anglo-saxons have had in history a profound inability to mix with other cultures and peoples, something that can be verified in every single country they set foot into, in their vast Imperial Empire now called the Commonwealth. I've mentioned before about how the French mingled with the Amerindians in North America, while their counterparts in the British colonies only used them for their political and war purposes. Those people fled up north during the Revolution and still today show the same inability. Quebec haters and bashers come mostly from these people, not from immigrants. I guess they hate our guts because we're ruining their party. I had it (the chicken) with beer because it was a can of Mexican Tecate (413ml) and it was only half done. I would have preferred wine but sometimes we have to take hard and heartwrenching decisions in life.

Afterwards, I had an anglo-saxon cheese. I know, I'm not very consequential. Well, it's British to be more precise. I bought it the other day at a cheese store at Marché Jean-Talon. I wanted something pasteurized and, why not, try something new. There was this cheese called Shropshire, a little expensive but they had one piece already cut and of a size/price that fit my needs, so I gave it a go. It's a blue cheese, orangy in color, and from what I found on the internet, it was not initially made in the British Shropshire region, and was invented rather recently (created in the 1970s). It tastes a little like a Stilton. Again, on the little flag stuck in the larger piece at the cheese store, it was indicated that the perfect match was an old Port wine. I didn't have an unopened bottle of old Port wine, only a small one of younger Late Bottled Vintage Port, which is a nice wine but a far cry from the older copper-colored oldie. I did have some aged Madeira though, and that's what I had the previous day with the first half of that piece of cheese. Bliss. No, wait, karma! Unfortunately I pushed a little on the karma that evening, drinking my share of beer and wine with my supper, so the added Madeira was a little bit too much and my system kind of cried "Help, can someone control this fool?", an appeal I distinctly heard during most of the ensuing day, if you know what I mean. So when it came to munching on the second and last half (there's never more than two halves, it's a law of physics I think), I opted for red wine (the Tecate was long gone), some Saint-Saturnin Languedoc wine. Bad move. Total mismatch. I should have had the red Port instead. My bad. Sometimes, some hard decisions wrench not only the heart, but also the palate. That's part of life I guess.

I found out also that its orangy color comes from using annatto or achiote as it is sometimes called (roucou in French). It is widely used in Latino countries to color and flavor foods. I once saw a tiny can of powder containing annatto at my local Latino grocery store and bought it, figuring that one day I would find a recipe or some way of using it. Until now it just stood there in the waiting, with the herbs and spices, on the top shelf with some other ones that for most I rarely or don't use anymore. That onion powder, gosh, I can't believe I once used that stuff. That jar and the fish spice, both are years older than the students who are on strike these days. In fact, they date from my pre-Montreal days (aka before 1985). The steak spice jar does not contain the original spices. I refill it when needed with much better steak spice I buy at Anatol, on St-Laurent. The same for most herbs jars. The annatto is in the little yellow Bijol container. From now on I know what I can do with it. I just have to make cheese.

Nuit Blanche - Art souterrain/Underground Art - 2012.02.26
Place Ville-Marie - 03h05

Da food section

Comes to think of it, it'll be the 'only' section, so it's some kind of a pleonasm...

Last evening, I tried something kind of weird. Basically, it's pasta with onions, dried tomatoes, pine nuts, and parmiggiano. What makes it weird is the way the pasta is cooked. The same as with the rice in a risotto, that is you cook the onions a little in olive oil, then add the pasta, let it cook a minute or two, then add some liquid a little at a time, until the pasta is cooked, about twenty minutes. Then you add the tomatoes, pine nuts and cheese and cook for one minute more.

On the site (in French) where I found it, they called it "pastasotto" (or pasta sotto I suppose). I can hardly find any recipe in Italian under that name on the net so maybe it's something invented elsewhere than in Italy. It would be as Italian as the american Maitred' is French. Sotto meaning "under", I don't quite understand that name, unless sotto here is used in the sense of lower, like in sottovoce (speaking in a whisper, or lower voice), referring to the very slow cooking on low heat, but then again, it would rather be sottopasta, me thinks. So until further information on the matter, it will remain a mystery to me.

What also remains a mystery to me is why I ended up with a slight case of diarrhea during my breakfast today (which was more a noon lunch ) . I can exclude the pasta, even if I used corn pasta, and the same goes with the stock used, it by definition being at a boiling point level. The pine nuts had been in the fridge for some months now but pine nuts can remain that long in the fridge, as long as they don't become rancid, and they were not. Then there's the dried tomatoes. They came from Turkey, which means nothing, but I also had had them for some months, but in a cupboard, not in the fridge. Potential culprit number one. Then there's the parmiggiano. That one had all the looks of a crook. It had been in the fridge since some time, mostly because I also have a piece of romano lupa which I've used lately instead of parmiggiano, mostly because the parmiggiano always seemed to be somewhere in the fridge where I couldn't find it and always stumbled on the romano first. To make a long story short, it had those mold spots here and there, which I scraped off. This is not usually a problem with good cheeses, but parmiggiano is made with raw milk and I have had problems with raw milk cheeses as of late, much to my discontent I may add, because there's a world of difference between them and pasteurized cheeses. Not being able to eat them anymore would be a loss. Of course, it could also be the parsley or one of those two round nuts biscuits (galleta de nueces), those I talked about in a previous post and the only two that made it to Montreal. Or anything else I ate (fruit salad) or drank (specialty beer) yesterday. I eat so many different things in a day and from day to day that when I have digestive problems, it's hell to find out what caused it. I excluded the wine.

If I try this recipe again, I'll try to use fresher cheese, fresher tomatoes, and roast the pine nuts in the oven before. They would taste even better with the added benefit of destroying any bacteria. When confronted with a multi-suspect-culprit situation, proceeding by elimination is the way to go.

Nuit Blanche - Art souterrain/Underground Art - 2012.02.26
Place Ville-Marie - 03h13

Lamb for vegetarians

I did go to that other pastry shop this afternoon. It's a more upscale one compared to Motta's. At Motta, it's all of a pastry shop, a pizza shop, a prepared foods shop, and there's a restaurant area for those who want to eat their pizza or prepared food purchase on the premises. This other pastry shop is nothing but that, a pastry shop. I asked the woman who served me if they still had zeppole, she said yes, how much do you want me to prepare, and do you want the traditional or the one with the cherry on top. Me being me, the traditional it was, and since she was getting out of her way to "prepare" them, I said two. Theirs is somewhat different than those at Motta, it's not as twirled, and of what I understand they only add the filling at selling time. Of what I gather, they do this by making a small hole in the bottom and pumping the filling inside. It is smaller in volume than the ones from Motta, but they are heavier, so the dough must be a little more tight (I have yet to eat one). The one on the left in the pic below is turned upside down to show the hole in the bottom and the yellow crème pâtissière that is inside. I didn't take the ricotta filling this time around.

While she was in the backshop filling the zeppole, I looked around and saw on the counter a bunch of lambs, some small, some larger, with an Italian flag stuck in them. I figured they were edible since we were in a pastry shop and that they were obviously each made by hand, none being exactly identical, so when she came back, I asked her what they were. Agnelli di Pasqua she replied, saying they were made with almond paste (massepain in French, marzipan in English, marzapane in Italiano - some also call it pasta di mandorle, a mandorla being an almond, mandorle is the plural - this information is obviously not for Carlo who knows all this already ). My Italian is a little rusty (this is a joke ) but I understood that she meant Easter lamb. Silly me, I had completely forgotten that lamb is much associated with Easter, especially on the other side of the Atlantic, and that Jesus-Christ is often referred to as the Lamb of God (because of his sacrifice, I suppose). I asked her how much it was for a smaller one, she said 4,85$ (not given) but then again marzipan is expensive and there's workmanship in those things, so I gave it a go. With the zeppole, it came to 10$. Hey, quaility does not come by cheap. Besides I learned about another Italian tradition I knew nothing about.

Laterz: the dough is not heavier, on the contrary, it's rather thin and the zeppole is hollow inside. That inside is filled with a very generous amount of crème pâtissière, which is what makes it heavier. I checked on google images and both zeppole (zeppoli ?) are found there, among other forms. It appears that it differs depending on the city or region. From those pics, I concluded that the non-traditional, the one with the cherry, would be something like Motta's one, even if theirs doesn't come with a cherry.

Memory failure: I saw in Mexico last year (and had brought back some) some small round biscuits that reminded me of those made by Italians, with marzipan, and which are very tasty and kind of soft (the fresh ones made on the premises). I couldn't remember this year how the Italian cookies are called and I still can't remember. I could easily find out by roaming the internet, but I'm stubborn and want it to come back to my mind by itself. It pissed me when I was there because I was talking of those biscuits to an elderly man who was having dinner with a younger woman one evening, at the same restaurant with street tables where I was having mine. He spoke a foreign language which, in the distance (two tables) seemed to me like Italian so when I left I went and asked him if he was. It turned out he was Polish and speaking Polish to his accompanying daughter who her, spoke English (but obviously understands Polish). They are from Chicago. I told them why I was enquiring, because I wanted to tell them about those Mexican cookies I was about to go buy a little bag of, and that they resembled that other Italian cookie. But since they were not Italian, I told them just the same that those Mexican cookies were special, that I was off to buy myself some, and indicated to them where they were artisanally made and sold in a small nearby street. Finally, they are not made with almonds but with nuts (powdered), and totally covered with icing sugar. A delicacy still the same. When I came back heading to my hotel, they were still at their restaurant table so I stopped and offered them some, to eat after their meal. They took one each and seemed to appreciate the gesture. But as per the Italian cookies, I'm still waiting to remember their name. The same memory blackout happened last year, about those same cookies. It's not because their name is complicated, I know it isn't. It's kind of strange how the brain works, or rather malfunctions, at times.

Next morming add-on: Shortly after writing the above, I went to bed and in a matter of minutes the light went on (the one in my head). They are amaretti and have a taste which contrary to their name is unforgettable.

Not really surprised

That Trayvor Martin thing is turning ugly, some Black guy (maybe a pastor, I'm not sure), saying he does it for the family which in turn would rather want him out of the picture, and who is advocating taking matters in their own hands because the police isn't. (aka CNN, Anderson Cooper, last evening around 20h00 Eastern).

Flip-flop

When I got back from Mexico, it was in the mid twenties (Celsius). Currently (March 27, 10h30) it's -4 C and there's snow forecasted for tonight. I hate this kind of roller coaster weather which is common in Montreal, and more so since climate changes are screwing it up even more.