Vine Envy at Thirty Bench Winery in Beamsville, ON

On a Wednesday afternoon, a Thirty Bench Winery dandelion is once again faced with a view of impossibly tidy rows of fruit-bearing grapevines, and shivers with envy. Look at them, all proper and organised. Oh to be so refined, so revered, so coveted.... Surely the potential of a common dandelion pales in comparison to that of such a smart, cultivated vine. They get all the attention: the coddling, the support, and the praise. It's enough to make even the most gratified Taraxacum blow his seedhead.


Dandelion has no idea of how frequently the members of the stifled, restrained row of grapevines gaze out at this down-to-earth patch of free-spirited weeds and shiver with envy. It is oblivious to the soaring expectations placed upon every stalk in that vineyard.. the constant pressure to produce, the continuous demand for succulent results. If only it knew how much those stately stalks would love to just be a common weed, asexually regenerating in the breeze rather than bearing their burden of producing swollen, luscious grapes required to craft the next great vintage! It's enough to make even the most content Vitis split its grapes.

Once Upon a Wine Vault

On the road to Fort Amherst, along the 'other side of the harbour', far below those massive white Irving Oil orbs that I always see from Water Street, there are caves. I counted at least eight of them along the route, unassumingly nestled within the Southside Hills, all sealed up and padlocked and keeping their secrets to themselves. A cave such as the one pictured above would no doubt have quite the flavourful collection of yarns to spin if it could: as the story goes, these caves served as storage for port wine cargo from ships that had been steered off course by pirates back in the 1600's!!

And as romantic and adventurous as it sounds to imagine getting past those derelict, haunting entrances, each one with its own personality, I'm not sure that I would ever have the nerve to venture in, if given the opportunity! But it doesn't matter because one cannot access the halls of these caves. 

But you can get inside The Newman Wine Vaults, located across the harbour on historic, eclectic Water Street. Reportedly among the oldest buildings still standing in St John's, the vault's curved ceilings also looked down upon large batches of port wine. Port was regularly shipped over from Portugal specifically for storage back in the 1800's, and was carried through these doors regularly for years. Now the building is protected and cherished as a Provincial Historic Site, retaining its historic interior but enclosed in a more modern, but stylistically aligned exterior. And it continues to store Newman's Port wine except now it is not stored merely awaiting a return shipment to Europe; it is stored as it awaits individual local purchase, often for immediate consumption!

I was fortunate enough to savour some of this sweet crimson wine for my very own palate when I joined the audience of an intimate and spell-binding evening with The Once. I originally wasn't familiar with the group, but knowing the friends who had invited me to go, it promised to be at the very least, an intriguing evening! But it was kilometres ahead of my expectations. This local folk trio is some of the most unassuming, genuine talent I've ever encountered.. in concert or not.

Andrew, Geraldine, and Phil assembled at the front of the room and instantly commanded the attention of the delightfully modest audience with their authentic instruments, melodic mastery, and vividly haunting lyrics, some original, some traditional. They even weaved a few Leonard Cohen tunes with exquisitely crafted arrangements paying fine homage to songs that have seen more than a few covers over the years.

I remember sitting in that rustic environment, the heels of my boots working their way into the crushed stone flooring as my feet unwittingly tapped away to the beat of the bodhrán, and thinking that a Newfoundland musical experience couldn't get much better than this. Every facet of our environment - the exclusively candlelit lighting, the acoustic and frequent a capella song treatments, the raw brick and stone walls - was wonderfully woven together creating a magic that was only surpassed by the razor sharp harmonies of the performers. Geraldine's lead voice was unbelievably pure, with a delivery that ranged from soft and delicate to fierce and insistent, effectively evoking the range of emotions that is inherently characteristic of Newfoundland music.

But I think the coolest part of the show occured during the performance of one of their own songs, Sail Away to the Sea. Shortly after Geraldine began conveying the lyrics, I began to hear echoes of her words flowing around me. The majority of the audience had obviously heard the song once or twice before and were very much enjoying hearing it performed in their presence. Now I know that it's not unique to be sitting in an audience and hear everyone singing along with the musicians. But it was the band's reaction that blew me away..  these guys were sincerely and utterly enthralled by the treatment...  almost surprised by it! It was, as one of my friends commented, almost as if they were just now realising that they've made it. I wouldn't doubt that everyone else in that dimly lit room knew it too. Artistry as honest as this, and as deeply rooted in Newfoundland as the wine caves in the Southside Hills is real and relevant and deserves to be shared and revered and performed again and again. But you don't have to take my word for it... check them out, and if you have the opportunity to see them live, anywhere, don't hesitate to venture in.

http://www.myspace.com/nowtheonce

North Wabash Avenue, Chicago, July 2010

I kind of wish I were into Transformers movies..

... because then I would be able to see how the streets of Chicago appeared in their most recent installment, and I would get to utter those words that I love to utter, with an outstretched index finger, whenever I encounter the cinematic opportunity: "Heyy I was there!"


We didn't realise, when we were visiting the windy city last summer, that movie crews had taken over sections of downtown Chicago until our tour bus narrator advised us that we would be changing our route (as if we knew which route we were expecting to take otherwise!) because the street on which we were supposed to drive had been invaded by a production studio!

We didn't see any of the invaders of course.. nor did we see Shia Labeouf meandering about. But hours later, on our way back to our hotel, we found ourselves in the vicinity of the excitement that had caused our detour earlier, so decided to check out the set.. as seen in my photograph above. We were soon ushered away, along with the others that had gathered, and advised to join the rest of the oglers on the opposite side of the river:

I'm not sure what they were gathered to see because there wasn't anything going on while we were there. I will assume they are locals because in the few days' vacation that we had, we couldn't justify spending it watching a artificially demolished street waiting for some action.. Still, it was a neat experience. And everytime I see the trailer on tv, I smile.. and if someone is around, I point at the scene with the Marina City corn cob parking garages and chirp "I was there!"

An apartment buildling on St Marks Place, Manhattan


So I asked Mr. Cab Driver to bring me to the East Village, but instead he brought me to Writer's Block. Let me tell you, it is not a place you ever want to visit.. with its sarcastic welcome mat, brazenly laid out, as if they just knew I was going to show my face here sooner or later. And there is no strength in numbers on this block; the fact that all creatively inclined creatures end up here at one point or another in their actual or elusive careers provides zero consolation. No.. you must believe me when I tell you that no good can come from a place like this. All I wanted to do was hop on the next blue CitySights tourbus and get the heck out of there. But they were no help.. I waved my ticketed hand furiously in hopes that I would be noticed, but driver after driver just sped past me.. I was merely just another piece of text on the page. As if I didn't have anywhere better to be!!!

I stewed for a while, and finally decided that the only sane thing to do was to find myself an accessible bench and take a load off. Literally. I removed my trusty red knapsack and leaned back on my hands and decided I would no longer consider my self-imposed schedule. Like literary insomnia, I figured if I stop thinking about it, it would solve itself.. my body and mind would know what to do, upon being freed from all the expectations and assumptions and timelines of my imagination. Really, there's no point in trying too hard because life is going to happen regardless of what you do... and there will always be a story to tell, a picture to capture, a memory to share, and an experience to.. well.. experience! It's all good. Really.

En Route to Fort Amherst 

Every time I've visited St. John's, a drive up to Signal Hill is always on my list of "must see or do" activities. I am still a tourist when I'm on the rock (heck I'm admittedly a tourist wherever I go, whether that's at the end of a ten hour drive or a ten minute drive!). I grew up in Labrador City and never actually lived on the island of Newfoundland so when I'm there, I'm visiting my parents. I don't have memories of venturing up that sinuous road with my high school buddies after the movies at night ignoring the fact that one or more of us would probably have been told not to venture up there after dark!! I have never played Cabot Tower tour guide for visiting relatives and stood back and watched as they were swept away by the breathtaking views of the metamorphic masses of fog floating across from them over the craggy cliffs (although I am certain that I would have been very happy to do so!)

And yet in all the times that I've stood in awe at the top of Signal Hill, undaunted yet feeling very small in the face of its powerful climate and majestic vistas, I've never seen it completely. I've never explored the trails that wind around the lower hills and around the edges of the rock and I've never viewed it from the other side of the harbour. So during my most recent trip just a couple of weeks ago, I made the request to cross off one of those experiences: "Can we drive to Fort Amherst?"

Fort Amherst is visible from the front yard of the Cabot Tower, across the harbour, and far, far below reaching out into the ocean from the outer tip of the land.... on a clear day, that is! And just as you are never sure how far you will be able to see from up on the hill, the low-slung cloud cover is just as capricious down on the other side!






But I was patient and managed to capture some images of the tower while I was there. I didn't actually get all the way in to explore the fort itself.. something to look forward to in the future!

I was also enjoying a front row seat to the St. John's Harbourfront and Battery, images that I'll be posting in future entries! Let me just say that now I know where photographers are standing when they capture all those enchanting jelly bean row house ensembles lining the harbour!!