you know, i realize that this sounds sadistic, but i derive a sharp, if guilty, pleasure from hiding chocolates on children. especially children who can be difficult. heh heh.
telling this particular kid that he couldn't have Any of his chocolates if he didn't find All of them was especially fun.
naturally i reneged, but his split-second look of panic was priceless.
who says stepmothers aren't really evil?
mean, mean bunny.
heh.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Thursday, March 10, 2005
our back yard looks like a timotei commercial
...the blossoms waft gently to the ground in each gentle breeze, the long grasses (which should probably be mowed) sway...
now all we need is a long haired blond lady in a dress running in slow motion with a few butterflies.
(or was she riding a white horse? hm. i forget. hard to say. i think i may be confusing the timotei commercial with a liona boyd album cover, now. i can't remember.)
now all we need is a long haired blond lady in a dress running in slow motion with a few butterflies.
(or was she riding a white horse? hm. i forget. hard to say. i think i may be confusing the timotei commercial with a liona boyd album cover, now. i can't remember.)
Monday, March 07, 2005
hawaiian bug
ok ok ok.
d, because of your comments on my last entry, i'm going to come clean on hawaii. it's going to sound like i'm complaining, though, which really isn't true. for the record, i had a pleasant time. the wind howled, which happens relatively rarely in southern bc, and which i love, so that was exhilarating, and when it wasn't howling, it was wafting, heavy with the smell goodness-knows-which colourful blooms that grew everywhere in extravagant abundance. visually, if there was a garden of eden, it would have looked like hawaii: tropical fruit trees growing casually about, as if this is what they always did, gorgeous and brilliantly hued flowers climbing and trailing all over the place, lush green grasses, towering palms replete with abundant clusters of coconuts, white sandy beaches, turquoise waters, black lava rock, jagged but green mountainous ridges like landscape wainscotting on the grandest scale, or like giant green curtains, reaching halfway up the sky and working with the cloud patterns to make the sun's light always appear in rays, rather than the more standard blanket of light found elsewhere in the world.
there were absurdly adorable tiny lizards all over the place, plus this mink-like animal, and there was a strange type of cardinal that looked like it had just emerged from the london punk scene 30 years ago, with its fluorescent red mohawk. we ate at a place called Luigi's, where dinner is cooked, individual order by order from scratch, by Luigi himself. it took us three hours to have supper. (i had a steamed broccoli salad with lemon and garlic, and a pasta dish with walnuts and capers and the like. it was very good.)
the temperature never swings too far on either side of a reasonable and comforting 25 degrees, all year around, and the water, always shockingly cool upon first exploration, never ceases to reveal itself as perfect after a moment's acclimatisation. i could have stayed in all day. there are few menaces in the water -- really only sharks (not in my area), jelly fish (cyclical according to the moon), sea urchins (only near rocks) and this weird little fish with a long nose that tends to break off in your skin if it accidentally bonks into you (didn't see any). i got stung by a jelly once, but it wasn't for the first time in my life, and who cares, so i kept swimming after a quick damage check. for the first week i had a weird rash on my neck, from the new bacteria in the water and all that, i imagine, but, really, what *doesn't* give me a weird rash? and just as there is little danger in the water, there is nothing to pester a person on land, either -- just centipedes, the odd scorpion, mosquitos, and bees. that's it. no poisonous spiders or snakes. being the united states, the infrastructure was reasonably good -- the buses regular, the water safe for drinking, that sort of thing. i mean, if you're going to go somewhere warm, but don't want to get sick or infected or bitten, hawaii's the place to go. a tropical paradise for the phobic.
and, of course, the fresh pineapple is out of this world.
this is all the good stuff. and it *is* good stuff. i liked it. i did. it was nice.
but, it's also still america, and oahu, where we were, has a huge military presence. there were "support our troops" stickers on everyone's car, and there was little in the way of vegetarian food outside of the healthfood store. the urban areas were full of chain stores in strip malls (why on earth would anyone come to hawaii just to go to The Gap?), everyone drives everywhere, and i couldn't for the life of me find an area of town with funky shopping, or a market where locals sold their crafts or anything more interesting than starbucks, jamba juice, ABC stores, and cheap bathing suit shops. i found this bland and disappointing. in fact, both locals and hotel concierges alike seemed mystified by my request for directions to an artsy area, or place where i could buy locally made stuff, or an old part of town, or something other than ugly, new, american, urban sprawl. i found no local colour, little social complexity, and no romance. not a single grass skirt, no visible history. the few native hawaiians i interacted with said "aloha" and "mahalo", it seemed, because hawaii's "aloha spirit" is its main marketing trick aimed at mainland tourists deciding whether to go to mexico or not.
also, because its economy is tourist driven, and everything has to be shipped in, prices are very very high, and in US currency (obviously). i was on a shoestring and couldn't afford to rent equipment or take lessons in surfing, or kite surfing (which looks really fun) at USD$295 a pop. as for snorkelling, i was discouraged by two people who told me that it didn't compare to florida (where i've gone) and is crowded and expensive, so i didn't bother.
the other thing that shaped my trip is that i was there by the graces of two of J's students, who paid for my flight. the boys were all there to paraglide, and so when i wasn't hanging around waiting to see where and if they would fly, i was making due with my own company. this is fine, and i knew it would be like this. it just means that J and i weren't exactly at large in hawaii, painting the island red. he and i arrived first, four days before the others, and initially, J was jetlagged from Australia and wanted to lie around, not having had a homebase for a month. somewhat frustratingly, and in opposition, all i had had for the last month *was* a home base and i was positively *dying* to get out and about. anyway, i managed to prod him out of the house a little bit and we and spent one day walking up the beach in one direction, and one day walking up the beach in the other direction, and one day hiking a ridge, and then the other pilots arrived and from then on they were in the air whenever possible. i don't drive, but i did take the bus on a few adventures while the boys were flying around -- one to waikiki, and one to a buddhist temple.
waikiki had two nice things about it: one was the most enormous banyan tree i've ever seen in the shockingly misnamed "International Market" -- it was so big it was mesmerising -- and the other was the sheraton hotel. it was beautiful and i would happily live there if everyone but the waitstaff would disappear. locals tried to dissuade me from loving the banyan tree, saying it was full of thousands of rats, but this made me love it even more. it was like a rat hotel! if i were a rat, i'd want to live there for sure! but anyway, waikiki wasn't really my thing. it's a tropical concrete disneyland and i found myself endlessly grateful that i wasn't staying there. it consists only of resorts and tourist traps squeezed together in each other's shadow. the only things to do in waikiki are sit shoulder to shoulder with strangers on a dismally overcrowded beach, getting burnt, or spend ridiculous amounts of money on greasy food, or cheap plastic crap "designed" in hawaii and made elsewhere.
i didn't really explore honolulu, of which waikiki is an area on the outskirts, and it may have had redeeming qualities in the way of a museum and gallery, or two. over all i found the city too hot and tiring, though, and not much fun without a buddy (where were you when i needed you, d?) so i didn't return.
before i left waikiki that day, though, i had really good kimchee-fried-rice near the rat hotel for lunch, and that's when i met Interesting Person #1. i sat eating at a table next to another table inhabited by a mousy, twitchy middle-aged woman and her burnt, tall, fat, red-faced grouchy looking blond husband waiting for their meal to be ready. they had new zealand or australian accents. the woman suddenly got up, clutching her backpack to her chest like a snuggly, and darted into the other seat at my table. she regarded me with sharp, bright, mouse-like eyes and said, breathy and quick, "Are you from B.C.?" i smiled, in what i hoped was a surprised and delighted manner, and said i was. she said, "I thought so. I just had to check or it would have bothered me." then she darted back to her table where she busied herself looking anywhere but at me.
i hounded her a bit, trying to make her happy that she had approached me, and trying to figure out where she could have recognised me from, but to no avail. all i got was that they were on a 6 hour layover from BC on the way to australia, and that they normally live in penticton and never go to victoria, where i live. her husband took off his huge leather jacket and handed it to her to put in her already teeming backpack. i said, still trying to put her at ease, "I hope he's not making you carry that! ha ha!" to which she replied in a startled but doleful tone "Oh! Yes. It seems to be my lot. My lot." And then she trotted off, dwarfed by her gear.
next, on my way home from waikiki, waiting for the bus, i met Interesting Person #2. he was a wino, drinking from a bottle in a paper bag, at least half native hawaiian, and a former english teacher. he was greasy and smelly and reading a new-looking copy of something by henry miller. he seemed very concerned that i read henry miller, to which i replied that i already had, and he was visibly relieved. when he found out about my theatre degree, he launched into an animated discussion on the merits of teaching Jacobean drama to 8th graders over paltry shakespeare. he was learned and interesting, even if he did confuse King Lear with Othello and smell like rancid oil.
the buddhist temple, on the other hand, was a completely different experience than waikiki. it rests in the rainy, moist Valley of Temples on the island's windward side. it is an exact replica of a temple in japan and was finished in 1968 (i think) to commemorate the landing of the first japanese immigrants on hawaii one hundred years earlier. there was an enormous bell -- over 6 feet tall and five inches thick -- that one could ring by pulling a horizontal log on a rope outwards, then releasing it. the deliciously rich tone rang for minutes, cleansing the ringer's soul of temptations, or so the story goes.
there was also a small network of ponds filled with enormous koi. i was surprised to learn that koi can live up to one hundred years. to encourage their longevity, i bought a little bag of fishfood from the lone staff member on the site (a notably contrary and ignorant young white woman), and tossed some of it's contents onto a dazed group of fish crowding motionlessly on top of each other in the water by the side of the bridge. the food made them wake up and they thrashed around gulping for it. then the birds came. not to be bothered by the fish, and possessing a (i thought) peculiar taste for fish food, the birds would catch the food i threw in mid-air, or even briefly land on the fish to quickly nab the pellets before they sank or were gobbled.
i soon forgot the fish altogether and busied myself with the birds as they landed on my hand and arm, hanging out, just waiting until i provided more food.
there was also, of course, a large buddha inside the temple. it is the largest wooden buddha carved in the last 900 years, or so the temple literature claimed, and was covered in a lovely gold leaf that had begun to wear off in places. the eyes were carved so that they looked like they were watching you and you felt that that mischievous, yet serene, smile was actually for you.
after the temple i went to the nearest strip mall to forage for lunch and met Interesting Person #3. he was an asian local and had some interesting views on god and the military and george bush, but i forget every one of them. he and i found each other because the ceiling was dripping brown creepy water by my table at the little food place, and his was the only other, so i imposed myself on his company.
on one raining day, too, i was lucky enough to convince the boys (with the car) that we should go to the north shore. this is where pipeline is -- the famous beach, and the famous surfer competition named after it (or is it vice versa?). we missed the competition by a few days, but there were still surfers there doing their thing. they are insane. that water is insane. the waves are monumental and they arrive onshore at such an angle as to pretty well guarantee you a broken neck or death by drowning if you don't know what you're doing. i didn't even put my toe in. near pipeline is a little town called haleiwa. it is what people consider "old hawaii" and it was by far my favourite spot.
haleiwa is small and quaint, and the road leading up to it is full of ramshackle houses with laundry hanging off the line and chickens in the yard. seeing this i heaved a sigh of contentment. the town itself is a little cluster of low sitting wooden houses containing small galleries and craft shops, little bakeries, restaurants and funky one-room museums dedicated to things like surfing. it had personality. i liked it. we spent the afternoon there, and then on the way home, we stopped by a pineapple stand and bought arm loads of pineapple from a very large and very smiley soft-spoken, shy-seeming young hawaiian man.
and that's about all that's noteworthy about my trip. over-all, hawaii felt like a pretty and warm place to go swimming. it didn't strike me to my core the way northern canada did, or various spots in europe did. i encountered none of the magic you hear about, but then, i only stayed on oahu. it's possible that i'm really no better off than all those unfortunate souls who stay in waikiki. if i went to maui or the big island, perhaps i would have had a different trip altogether.
and i would love to put this theory to the test next year. no matter what, it's always nice to go somewhere warm and sunny after the gloomy westcoast winter. it lifts the spirits, stupid tourist traps or no.
so, d, does that satisfy your curiosity?
d, because of your comments on my last entry, i'm going to come clean on hawaii. it's going to sound like i'm complaining, though, which really isn't true. for the record, i had a pleasant time. the wind howled, which happens relatively rarely in southern bc, and which i love, so that was exhilarating, and when it wasn't howling, it was wafting, heavy with the smell goodness-knows-which colourful blooms that grew everywhere in extravagant abundance. visually, if there was a garden of eden, it would have looked like hawaii: tropical fruit trees growing casually about, as if this is what they always did, gorgeous and brilliantly hued flowers climbing and trailing all over the place, lush green grasses, towering palms replete with abundant clusters of coconuts, white sandy beaches, turquoise waters, black lava rock, jagged but green mountainous ridges like landscape wainscotting on the grandest scale, or like giant green curtains, reaching halfway up the sky and working with the cloud patterns to make the sun's light always appear in rays, rather than the more standard blanket of light found elsewhere in the world.
there were absurdly adorable tiny lizards all over the place, plus this mink-like animal, and there was a strange type of cardinal that looked like it had just emerged from the london punk scene 30 years ago, with its fluorescent red mohawk. we ate at a place called Luigi's, where dinner is cooked, individual order by order from scratch, by Luigi himself. it took us three hours to have supper. (i had a steamed broccoli salad with lemon and garlic, and a pasta dish with walnuts and capers and the like. it was very good.)
the temperature never swings too far on either side of a reasonable and comforting 25 degrees, all year around, and the water, always shockingly cool upon first exploration, never ceases to reveal itself as perfect after a moment's acclimatisation. i could have stayed in all day. there are few menaces in the water -- really only sharks (not in my area), jelly fish (cyclical according to the moon), sea urchins (only near rocks) and this weird little fish with a long nose that tends to break off in your skin if it accidentally bonks into you (didn't see any). i got stung by a jelly once, but it wasn't for the first time in my life, and who cares, so i kept swimming after a quick damage check. for the first week i had a weird rash on my neck, from the new bacteria in the water and all that, i imagine, but, really, what *doesn't* give me a weird rash? and just as there is little danger in the water, there is nothing to pester a person on land, either -- just centipedes, the odd scorpion, mosquitos, and bees. that's it. no poisonous spiders or snakes. being the united states, the infrastructure was reasonably good -- the buses regular, the water safe for drinking, that sort of thing. i mean, if you're going to go somewhere warm, but don't want to get sick or infected or bitten, hawaii's the place to go. a tropical paradise for the phobic.
and, of course, the fresh pineapple is out of this world.
this is all the good stuff. and it *is* good stuff. i liked it. i did. it was nice.
but, it's also still america, and oahu, where we were, has a huge military presence. there were "support our troops" stickers on everyone's car, and there was little in the way of vegetarian food outside of the healthfood store. the urban areas were full of chain stores in strip malls (why on earth would anyone come to hawaii just to go to The Gap?), everyone drives everywhere, and i couldn't for the life of me find an area of town with funky shopping, or a market where locals sold their crafts or anything more interesting than starbucks, jamba juice, ABC stores, and cheap bathing suit shops. i found this bland and disappointing. in fact, both locals and hotel concierges alike seemed mystified by my request for directions to an artsy area, or place where i could buy locally made stuff, or an old part of town, or something other than ugly, new, american, urban sprawl. i found no local colour, little social complexity, and no romance. not a single grass skirt, no visible history. the few native hawaiians i interacted with said "aloha" and "mahalo", it seemed, because hawaii's "aloha spirit" is its main marketing trick aimed at mainland tourists deciding whether to go to mexico or not.
also, because its economy is tourist driven, and everything has to be shipped in, prices are very very high, and in US currency (obviously). i was on a shoestring and couldn't afford to rent equipment or take lessons in surfing, or kite surfing (which looks really fun) at USD$295 a pop. as for snorkelling, i was discouraged by two people who told me that it didn't compare to florida (where i've gone) and is crowded and expensive, so i didn't bother.
the other thing that shaped my trip is that i was there by the graces of two of J's students, who paid for my flight. the boys were all there to paraglide, and so when i wasn't hanging around waiting to see where and if they would fly, i was making due with my own company. this is fine, and i knew it would be like this. it just means that J and i weren't exactly at large in hawaii, painting the island red. he and i arrived first, four days before the others, and initially, J was jetlagged from Australia and wanted to lie around, not having had a homebase for a month. somewhat frustratingly, and in opposition, all i had had for the last month *was* a home base and i was positively *dying* to get out and about. anyway, i managed to prod him out of the house a little bit and we and spent one day walking up the beach in one direction, and one day walking up the beach in the other direction, and one day hiking a ridge, and then the other pilots arrived and from then on they were in the air whenever possible. i don't drive, but i did take the bus on a few adventures while the boys were flying around -- one to waikiki, and one to a buddhist temple.
waikiki had two nice things about it: one was the most enormous banyan tree i've ever seen in the shockingly misnamed "International Market" -- it was so big it was mesmerising -- and the other was the sheraton hotel. it was beautiful and i would happily live there if everyone but the waitstaff would disappear. locals tried to dissuade me from loving the banyan tree, saying it was full of thousands of rats, but this made me love it even more. it was like a rat hotel! if i were a rat, i'd want to live there for sure! but anyway, waikiki wasn't really my thing. it's a tropical concrete disneyland and i found myself endlessly grateful that i wasn't staying there. it consists only of resorts and tourist traps squeezed together in each other's shadow. the only things to do in waikiki are sit shoulder to shoulder with strangers on a dismally overcrowded beach, getting burnt, or spend ridiculous amounts of money on greasy food, or cheap plastic crap "designed" in hawaii and made elsewhere.
i didn't really explore honolulu, of which waikiki is an area on the outskirts, and it may have had redeeming qualities in the way of a museum and gallery, or two. over all i found the city too hot and tiring, though, and not much fun without a buddy (where were you when i needed you, d?) so i didn't return.
before i left waikiki that day, though, i had really good kimchee-fried-rice near the rat hotel for lunch, and that's when i met Interesting Person #1. i sat eating at a table next to another table inhabited by a mousy, twitchy middle-aged woman and her burnt, tall, fat, red-faced grouchy looking blond husband waiting for their meal to be ready. they had new zealand or australian accents. the woman suddenly got up, clutching her backpack to her chest like a snuggly, and darted into the other seat at my table. she regarded me with sharp, bright, mouse-like eyes and said, breathy and quick, "Are you from B.C.?" i smiled, in what i hoped was a surprised and delighted manner, and said i was. she said, "I thought so. I just had to check or it would have bothered me." then she darted back to her table where she busied herself looking anywhere but at me.
i hounded her a bit, trying to make her happy that she had approached me, and trying to figure out where she could have recognised me from, but to no avail. all i got was that they were on a 6 hour layover from BC on the way to australia, and that they normally live in penticton and never go to victoria, where i live. her husband took off his huge leather jacket and handed it to her to put in her already teeming backpack. i said, still trying to put her at ease, "I hope he's not making you carry that! ha ha!" to which she replied in a startled but doleful tone "Oh! Yes. It seems to be my lot. My lot." And then she trotted off, dwarfed by her gear.
next, on my way home from waikiki, waiting for the bus, i met Interesting Person #2. he was a wino, drinking from a bottle in a paper bag, at least half native hawaiian, and a former english teacher. he was greasy and smelly and reading a new-looking copy of something by henry miller. he seemed very concerned that i read henry miller, to which i replied that i already had, and he was visibly relieved. when he found out about my theatre degree, he launched into an animated discussion on the merits of teaching Jacobean drama to 8th graders over paltry shakespeare. he was learned and interesting, even if he did confuse King Lear with Othello and smell like rancid oil.
the buddhist temple, on the other hand, was a completely different experience than waikiki. it rests in the rainy, moist Valley of Temples on the island's windward side. it is an exact replica of a temple in japan and was finished in 1968 (i think) to commemorate the landing of the first japanese immigrants on hawaii one hundred years earlier. there was an enormous bell -- over 6 feet tall and five inches thick -- that one could ring by pulling a horizontal log on a rope outwards, then releasing it. the deliciously rich tone rang for minutes, cleansing the ringer's soul of temptations, or so the story goes.
there was also a small network of ponds filled with enormous koi. i was surprised to learn that koi can live up to one hundred years. to encourage their longevity, i bought a little bag of fishfood from the lone staff member on the site (a notably contrary and ignorant young white woman), and tossed some of it's contents onto a dazed group of fish crowding motionlessly on top of each other in the water by the side of the bridge. the food made them wake up and they thrashed around gulping for it. then the birds came. not to be bothered by the fish, and possessing a (i thought) peculiar taste for fish food, the birds would catch the food i threw in mid-air, or even briefly land on the fish to quickly nab the pellets before they sank or were gobbled.
i soon forgot the fish altogether and busied myself with the birds as they landed on my hand and arm, hanging out, just waiting until i provided more food.
there was also, of course, a large buddha inside the temple. it is the largest wooden buddha carved in the last 900 years, or so the temple literature claimed, and was covered in a lovely gold leaf that had begun to wear off in places. the eyes were carved so that they looked like they were watching you and you felt that that mischievous, yet serene, smile was actually for you.
after the temple i went to the nearest strip mall to forage for lunch and met Interesting Person #3. he was an asian local and had some interesting views on god and the military and george bush, but i forget every one of them. he and i found each other because the ceiling was dripping brown creepy water by my table at the little food place, and his was the only other, so i imposed myself on his company.
on one raining day, too, i was lucky enough to convince the boys (with the car) that we should go to the north shore. this is where pipeline is -- the famous beach, and the famous surfer competition named after it (or is it vice versa?). we missed the competition by a few days, but there were still surfers there doing their thing. they are insane. that water is insane. the waves are monumental and they arrive onshore at such an angle as to pretty well guarantee you a broken neck or death by drowning if you don't know what you're doing. i didn't even put my toe in. near pipeline is a little town called haleiwa. it is what people consider "old hawaii" and it was by far my favourite spot.
haleiwa is small and quaint, and the road leading up to it is full of ramshackle houses with laundry hanging off the line and chickens in the yard. seeing this i heaved a sigh of contentment. the town itself is a little cluster of low sitting wooden houses containing small galleries and craft shops, little bakeries, restaurants and funky one-room museums dedicated to things like surfing. it had personality. i liked it. we spent the afternoon there, and then on the way home, we stopped by a pineapple stand and bought arm loads of pineapple from a very large and very smiley soft-spoken, shy-seeming young hawaiian man.
and that's about all that's noteworthy about my trip. over-all, hawaii felt like a pretty and warm place to go swimming. it didn't strike me to my core the way northern canada did, or various spots in europe did. i encountered none of the magic you hear about, but then, i only stayed on oahu. it's possible that i'm really no better off than all those unfortunate souls who stay in waikiki. if i went to maui or the big island, perhaps i would have had a different trip altogether.
and i would love to put this theory to the test next year. no matter what, it's always nice to go somewhere warm and sunny after the gloomy westcoast winter. it lifts the spirits, stupid tourist traps or no.
so, d, does that satisfy your curiosity?
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
flatfoot floozie on the fly fly
every once in a while i pause and thank my forgetful and somewhat scattered nature for encouraging humility in me, and a sense of humour. this morning, for what was certainly not the first time, and most likely will not be the last, either, i found myself woken up by the garbage truck, and the subsequent bleary-eyed, half-dressed dash after it, holding a big, stinky, drippy bag of trash. this experience, and the solitary giggles enjoyed shortly afterwards upon private reflection, are surely lost on those of us who are mindful/diligent/organised/rhythmical enough to find a way to remember garbage dates -- or, at least, to write them down and then remember to look at them.
i figure that organisation is a small price to pay for ongoing subjective hilarity.
(yes, that's it: it's not that i'm allergic to mundane details, it's that i've sacrificed my attention to worldly matters at the alter of The Absurd, and her twin, The Goofy.)
it's now 7:45am on my last day in hawaii. i'm alone, after my mad garbage truck chasing jump-start to the day, packing and doing laundry before we leave for home. the boys have gone off to try to squeeze in one more flight before we leave, and
i found a lizard in the dish cupboard. it was outrageously cute and i took a ridiculous number of pictures of it (with the flash on, poor thing). it is very lovely here, but i have to say, that it hasn't tugged at my heartstrings at all. i would come back, if it was easy and made sense. it's quite agreeable and very pleasant and pretty, but is somehow lost on me. i don't know why.
anyway, time to get packing....
i figure that organisation is a small price to pay for ongoing subjective hilarity.
(yes, that's it: it's not that i'm allergic to mundane details, it's that i've sacrificed my attention to worldly matters at the alter of The Absurd, and her twin, The Goofy.)
it's now 7:45am on my last day in hawaii. i'm alone, after my mad garbage truck chasing jump-start to the day, packing and doing laundry before we leave for home. the boys have gone off to try to squeeze in one more flight before we leave, and
i found a lizard in the dish cupboard. it was outrageously cute and i took a ridiculous number of pictures of it (with the flash on, poor thing). it is very lovely here, but i have to say, that it hasn't tugged at my heartstrings at all. i would come back, if it was easy and made sense. it's quite agreeable and very pleasant and pretty, but is somehow lost on me. i don't know why.
anyway, time to get packing....
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