Category: Travel

Travel photo notes

Posted on

Getting sick abroad

_MG_8533_06-30-2008

Falling ill or getting injured abroad is certainly not fun. We have had several brushes with foreign medical services during our travels. The first time, it was in Czech Republic, when my wife got bitten in a leg by an insect while taking a long-exposure night photo on Charles Bridge in Prague. The bite got infected, and, following doctor’s orders, my wife had to spend the next few days in our hotel room with her leg elevated. “But we have vacation plans. How would I get around?” my wife asked the doctor (they were communicating using equal parts of English, Czech and Russian). “You’ve got a strong-looking husband,” she replied, “he should be carrying you in his arms.” I took it as a compliment. This happened on the second day of our trip, so fortunately, she had time to recover while I was attending a conference, and our subsequent vacation travels were not interrupted.

The other couple of incidents happened when our daughter became sick abroad, most recently a year ago in Milan. Just a few days ago, it was my father’s turn to get injured, while visiting us here in Victoria.

Dealing with all the stress and logistics, I thought that it was amazing how time heals the wounds, metaphorically speaking. The worry, the pain, the frustration eventually became blurred in our memories. My wife and I mostly remember the funny details of dealing with the language barrier, the universal kindness of doctors and nurses, the interactions among ourselves during the difficult times.

To be philosophical about it, health issues are a part of life, and they are bound to happen on the road as much as they will occur at home. And a far as travelling with family is concerned, I think that such trips are not so much about the destination itself or sightseeing, but more about spending time with family while travelling. Being on the road only adds a common element of novelty and excitement (and a bit of stress) to experience together. And the sickness or injury, as the time passes and the wounds heal (in the literal sense), eventually becomes just another experience – something that adds to the overall impression of the trip. Just buy insurance before leaving home.

IMG_0863

_MG_8381_06-30-2008

Posted on

West Coast

DSC09086-2_12-27-2017_12-27-2017-Edit

French Beach is a special place for me. When we first moved to Vancouver Island, we drove there to explore our new surroundings, and this is where I was really struck by the beauty of the local nature. It is very much tamed by the park setting, but it doesn’t detract much from the impression. To me, French Beach has all the essential West Coast elements – waves, tall trees, large pebbles and driftwood on the beach.

It all typically comes with West Coast weather too – rain, fog, wind. Last year, just after Christmas, we decided to go for a drive along the coast of the island despite the gloomy weather forecast.

DSC09076-2_12-27-2017_12-27-2017

We thought that we would explore the Sheringham Point Lighthouse, which we have never seen before. It is hidden among the private lands, and the access point from the main road is not obvious. The lighthouse was a bit underwhelming, but still a nice find, considering how long we have lived here without being aware of it’s existence.

The weather that day, was a real gift, though. An almost clear sky without any wind. I was just a single fine day in a row of cold and gloomy ones – perfect for getting out to the coast. Being able to look out of the window, grab a camera bag and some sandwiches and be out by the ocean at one of the most beautiful spots I know – this is what I like about living here.

I am also conscious that I cannot take for granted how easygoing our six-year-old daughter is. The fact that she can cheerfully switch from her Playmobil figurines to the idea of going to a picnic is impressive to me. Flexibility. It is yet another thing I am learning from her.

C0044T01_12-27-2017-Edit

DSC09102-2_12-27-2017_12-27-2017

Posted on

Honey cake

DSC09351_01-01-2018

My mom baked a honey cake for the New Year. It is my childhood favourite. She wanted to write “2018” on it, and I suggested making a paper stencil and shaving chocolate over it. When I was a child, she would decorate the cake with chocolate shavings all over the top. Now, my mom thought that stencil was a great idea, but she understood it so that the chocolate would be inside the digits. Instead, I thought that the image should be inverted – everything but the digits would be chocolate-covered. She went with my design, naturally – the more chocolate the better!

A note for the next time: the dough crumbs on the top are not necessary at all. Having a white cream background would make the writing more contrasty and would make the chocolate shavings stick better. As Winnie the Pooh told Piglet in the Russian version of the cartoon, “Both jam and honey, please, and you can skip the bread!”

My mom’s honey cakes are very close to the top of my sweetest childhood memories, but more recently, my notion what a fantastic honey cake looks and tastes like was re-calibrated when my wife and I travelled in Czech Republic in 2008. I had a conference in Prague, and after that, we travelled around most of the Southern part of the country by car over a two-week period. Two things impressed me in terms of cuisine: beer was cheaper than (bottled) water and honey cakes (called medovik) were served nearly in every cafe. The recipes were slightly different, but they were were all very-very good. Maybe, this is why that trip is one of my all-time favourites? After all, we all have incredibly strong emotional relationships with food one way or another.

Portrait of a young woman on a Charles Bridge in Pargue. Czech Republic
Portrait of a young woman on a Charles Bridge in Pargue. Czech Republic

DSC09302_12-31-2017

Posted on

Sketching at the museum

DSC09545_01-02-2018

We discovered that our daughter loved drawing in museums when we are on sabbatical in Milan last year. We would bling her sketchbook and pencils wherever we’d go, and she would stop in front of every sculpture to draw it.

Today, we went to the Royal BC Museum in Victoria to see the wildlife photography exhibit, and there were some interactive setups aimed, I suppose, to teach kids the “rule of thirds” of composition. One could look at an animal figure through a frame with some wire grid and sketch it on a piece of paper.

Our daughter was happy to draw the animals, and she thought that the frame was cool, but as far as I could tell, she did not use any composition rules. I am glad that she she feels in her element drawing in public. And I miss our Italian museum trips, where my daughter and I sat side by side, sketching something. We should start drawing together again, while she still wants to do it.

DSC06508_02-20-2017

DSC09615_01-02-2018

Posted on

Running with my daughter

DSC07378-2

Today, my daughter and I went for a bike ride/run to a nearby ocean-side park. I ran and she biked. I remember that the first time we did this was last Spring in Milan, where we were on a six-months sabbatical. We would run/bike along Naviglio Martesana. She could handle about 15 minutes of non-stop pedalling on her bike, which we borrowed from my colleague. In that time, we could get to a playground, where she would play for about half-an-hour, spending most of that time hanging on monkey bars. We would eat an apple and some pretzels, which was her go-to snack over there, much like “fishy crackers” are consistent favourites here in Canada, and head back home. It was hot. We strategically chose the path to stay in the shade, as we ran/biked along the canal.

IMG_0967 (1)

Today, it was cold (by Victoria standard anyway – about 0 degrees C) and windy. My daughter is stronger now and she has a bigger bike, so she can ride 30 minutes non-stop. Still, I ran at a pace, where we could talk without breathing hard. It was fun to run with her, but it was no question about playing when we got to a playground at the local park. It was so cold, that even stopping was uncomfortable. This is the thing about Victoria: the running trails around our home are some of the best I’ve tried anywhere in the world. The air is unbelievably fresh – I was really missing it in Milan. The nature is spectacular. The people are friendly and polite. Yet, it is just not quite warm enough to be truly enjoyable.

To be fair, though, I would need to compare apples to apples, or rather, winter to winter. The very first time I ran in Milan was in the winter, in the cold, in the dark, along a busy Via Melchiorre Gioia to Piazza Game Aulenti, which was the closest place to our apartment (that I knew of), where some stores were open late at night. I wanted to buy a thermos for my daughter to bring hot chocolate in to her ice-skating lesson the next morning (the irony of the fact that she came to Italy from Canada to learn skating is not lost on me, by the way), so I decided to make a running workout of the shopping trip. It was slippery with ice, windy, dark, noisy and generally quite unpleasant to run that night. But at that time, when we were without a car for the first time in many years, simply bing able to cove some distance on foot and explore the new city was liberating.

Today also, the simple fact that my daughter and I could on the whim put on the runners, jump on a bike and be in a forest, by the ocean in less than 15 minutes, chatting all the way there, was definitely a gift, cold weather or not.

Night view of the Unicredit tower in Piazza Gae Aulenti. Milan. Italy.
Night view of the Unicredit tower in Piazza Gae Aulenti. Milan. Italy.

DSC07216_02-22-2017-Edit

Posted on

Well-forgotten old

DSC07348_10-08-2017

There is a saying: “New is well-forgotten old”. These days, as we are unpacking after returning from sabbatical, I am confirming that there is indeed a lot of truth in it.

We had so much luggage while travelling for seven months that it seemed that we were carrying the entire household with us. In reality, we had much more stuff packed in boxes while we are away.

When we came back, there are many logistical issues to take care of in order to put the school-work-other life routine back on track. It seems that whatever stuff we have brought in our suitcases is perfectly enough for us to function. It is tempting to think that the rest of it is simply not needed (which, technically, is the case).

It is actually a fairly unique chance to re-consider which objects “spark joy”, to borrow the term from Marie Kondo, and which ones can be thanked for their service and discarded. The killer, of course, is that the “konmari” organizing principle implies physically picking up each single item I own and engaging with it intellectually and emotionally. And I have too many socks to talk to.

On the other hand, our daughter is having a blast as we unpack the boxes, because she is uncovering her old toys that she has completely forgotten about. It literally seems like Christmas. Oh, and of course we are are re-confirming the well-known fact that the packing boxes often make much better toys than whatever gifts they contain.

DSC07362_10-08-2017

DSC07388_10-08-2017

Posted on

Time running like a cheetah

DSC04591_09-03-2017

It’s been a month since we came back from sabbatical, and our six-years-old daughter said, being in one of her philosophical moods: “In Milan, time was running like a cheetah, chasing away holidays, so that they would pass quickly. Here in Victoria, time goes a bit slower. I like that.”

I am not sure I agree – I hardly noticed the last month with all the logistics of re-establishing the daily routines and the start of the school year, both for us and for our daughter. I did go to Japan during that time, though, and visited the places we called home during our last sabbatical. That was certainly nice, and I guess, a lot has happened in this short last month. Doest it mean that time runs fast or slow? My daughter is probably right after all.

DSC04853_09-04-2017

DSC04925_09-04-2017

Posted on

Violin lessons

DSC03873_01-15-2017

When I was taking photos of famous Italian violins at the Sforza Castle museum in Milan a few months ago, I did not imagine that very soon I would begin my first violin lessons to keep a company for my six-years-old daughter. These are the first formal music lessons of any kind for both of us, I might add!

So here are my first impressions of learning violin.

The initial stage of learning the most basic fundamentals of this highly technical skill, which is completely foreign to me (that is, I cannot draw upon my experience in any other field) is incredibly rewarding. Immediately, after the very few first attempts to extract a clear sound, I have a completely new level of appreciation of classical music that opened to me. If before, when I heard some virtuoso play a violin concerto, I would think: “This must be incredibly difficult.” Now I have a first-hand sense of what specifically is so difficult and how many of these tremendously difficult aspects must align perfectly for the music to appear that fluid. It’s a different world from what I could imagine!

DSC03880_01-15-2017

Also, it was nice to hear my teacher draw an analogy between violin-playing and martial arts in that the essence of practice in both areas is to focus on the form. If the form is executed flawlessly, the result is automatically beautiful.

DSC03995_01-15-2017

Posted on

Kanazawa seven years later

Kanazawa Castle. Japan.
Kanazawa Castle. Japan.

Kanazawa was our home base for three months during my last sabbatical. Coming there again has some strong sense of deja vu.

Riding a bus to the university and hearing the names of the stops that I thought I had forgotten, walking past the building called “Rifare” near the train station where my wife went for Japanese lessons, wondering around Kenrokuen in the the summer heat and stopping to have green tea with sweets in a teahouse by the pond, sliding in my socks on the wide wooden floor planks of the castle and wondering how many samurai died while climbing those insanely steep stairs – everything seems familiar and nostalgic.

But things has changed a lot in Kanazawa since the last time I was there, and the reason is the new shinkansen line that now makes the city easily accessible to tourists. While seven years ago there were hardly any English signs at the bus stops (many stops had no written signs at all), now there are tourist information points and signage in both Japanese and English everywhere.

Oyama Shrine. Kanazawa. Japan.
Oyama Shrine. Kanazawa. Japan.

Most strikingly, there are many foreigners on the streets, while it seems that seven years ago my wife and I were the only ones. I still remember one time when I turned a corner in the Nomura bukeyashiki district and came face-to-face with a schoolboy of about 10 years of age. When he saw me, he stopped right in his tracks, turned around and ran back to his friends yelling: “Gaijin san! Gaijin san!” Now, it seems, there are as many foreigners as there are Japanese tourists around main attractions like the castle, the Kenrokuen and the Higashi Ochaya district.

Women in traditional clothes in Hagashi Ochaya district in Kanazawa. Japan.
Hagashi Ochaya district in Kanazawa. Japan.

The Higashi Ochaya deserves a special mention. I went there on my last day of this visit, and the place was swarming with tourists. Just like in Higashiyama in Kyoto, people were strolling around in rental kimonos, taking selfies. I remember that during our last trip, my wife and I were enormously happy that by shear luck we were able to capture a photograph of a group of people in yukatas walking along the street. The whole place was largely empty then. This time, there were literally crowds of yukaja-wearing people, and my main photographic challenge was to isolate just one group in the frame.

And of course, the teahouses themselves have multiplied. Where before there were only a couple of cafes serving sweets and tea n the whole district, now I had a choice of at least five or six on a single street. I went to the same place where my wife and I went before. This time, there was a book by the door, where I had to sign in my name and wait in line until it was called. And the menu has expanded too since the last time. I had a hot matcha latte and a “matcha parfe” – a culinary masterpiece made of vanilla and green tea ice-cream, whipped cream and soft sweets made of mochi and red beans.

The shinkansen has definitely opened Kanazawa to the world, and the change has been sweet!

Women in traditional clothes in Hagashi Ochaya district in Kanazawa. Japan.
Hagashi Ochaya district in Kanazawa. Japan.
Posted on

Travel fatigue

DSC01983_08-21-2017

I always thought it strange that we get tired during air travel. After all, there is no heavy labour involved in it – just sitting in a chair, mostly. Today, I think I figured out what the most exhausting aspect is. It is worrying about missing a connecting flight, losing a passport or forgetting some other small detail. Generally, it is the amount of new information that comes our way during travel, all of it new (for which we don’t have routines refined by everyday practice) and requiring immediate action (e.g. Your gate has changed – go there now!)

Also, there is inevitable frustration when our mental models of how things should go don’t match the reality. On our way back to Canada, for example, it took us more than an hour to pay the extra luggage fee at Moscow’s Domodedovo airport. So even though we came to the airport well in advance, we were in a rush not to miss the flight.

Having said this, I believe a healthy dose of stress every now and then is needed to maintain flexibility and openness of the mind. At least, that’s the only way I can put a positive spin on being tired at the moment.

DSC01942_08-21-2017