When on vacation...

One should always block off time in an itinerary to explore the view from the water in your host city (if such an option exists, of course!) Whether it's an intentional touring event that provides a knowledgable, narrated, and sometimes spirited explanation of the various highlights and notorious stories that flavour the city, or simply an alternate, fluid mode of transportation, it is worth the effort! Even if you aren't on the water, sometimes all you need to do is drive around the harbour and voila.. a skyline!

Similar to contemplating an oil painting, standing back and drinking in the view from afar allows you to appreciate the amalgamation of what makes it great! The towering (or sometimes colourfully modest) assembly of buildings that makes up a skyline is sometimes one of the most recognisable and revered images that can be captured of a city (I believe that it ranks right up there with the view from the highest observatory.. ooh I smell another post idea!!). Drifting along its perimeter, through its veins, or right under its arched connectors, one is granted insight into a different aspect of a city's personality, one that compliments what you see as you stand right on the doorsteps at street level and slide your gaze upwards.

I was thinking about this recently, and I realised that I have done the water view in some of the largest cities in North America. And I will do it again.. each and every time such an option exists.

Architectural Tour

Chicago

Duck Tour

Boston

Staten Island Ferry

Manhattan

Rented Powerboat

Toronto

Southside Road

St. John's

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

The pull of the ocean.

Chapel's Cove, Newfoundland

June 2011

Something magical happens at the ocean's fringe. You feel its pull and its monumental strength, even as your feet remain dry. Common knowledge is burnished away.. you struggle to recite everyday facts such as your address or the current day of the week. Such details matter little here. You brain becomes refreshingly aired out, allowing your thoughts to flow freely in and out of your mind as opposed to taking up valuable cerebral real estate. Your breath is drawn in deeper and your eyes are focusing on the horizon or not at all. It's just a blissful state in which to be immersed. The only questions on your mind are 'how far can you throw'.... who can hit that block of driftwood first'.... 'how many waves come in between the really big ones?'.... (by the way, the consensus is seven)

It always intrigues me how content and occupied my boys are while standing upon a Newfoundland beach - far removed from the familiar faces of their peers and the usual double screened electronic stimulants. This is part of the marine magic I mentioned a few lines back. It is relieving not only to see them enjoying themselves in such a natural and unrestricted, undefined environment, but to learn that such a phenomenon is even possible. (Okay I exaggerate a little, but it is still wholly and genuinely refreshing!!)

The beach in this photo is the only sandy beach I think we've visited.. at least in a long time. The ones near my parents' home in Conception Bay are abundantly occupied by orbed geological inhabitants of varying shades of grey and copper = lots of rocks, no visible sand. I think this granular expanse was a bit of a treat for us all because any discoveries of beached beings were readily visible and easily retrievable. A large yellow bucket became a secure tote for green nubby shards of sea urchins, perpetually positioned starfish, and salmon-hued crab legs either orphaned or still attached to a shell body. It was a cornucopia of irresistable maritime trinkets that would eventually make the three hour flight to Niagara, surprisingly intact, and occupy a prominent space on a family bookshelf.. just a few steps away from the equally entertaining electronic stimulants.

ILLUMINAQUA IN BLUE SEPTEMBER 2, 2011

I thoroughly enjoyed sitting on the grass absorbing the energetic and uniquely artistic Ashley MacIsaac experience. I was close enough to see the strings dancing on the end of his bow and to hear the time keeping pulse of his foot.

His delivery was a little restrained compared to what I was expecting, an opinion echoed by the performer's own acknowledgement of the absence of his previous revealing, kilt-flying antics. But he did not disappoint in any sense of the word. Not only did he and his band explode off the floating stage expertly relaying his stylised version of an already mesmerising musical genre, but he began and ended the show with an intimate and breath arresting solo performance. He proved, especially with the final set depicted in my photo, that he is capable of putting a rock spin on a folk circle.. and also of making his well worn fiddle sing the way it was meant to sing. He started off melodic and mystical and, with the precise timing consistent in Cape Breton music, he increased the tempo and got everyone else's soles helplessly tapping the concrete amphitheatre steps in unison. No drum required.

I should explain that the misty air you see above isn't the by-product of a well-positioned smoke machine nor is it a blush of fog from MacIsaac's birthplace. It made its way to the stage from the many iron pods of fire-burning wood that dot Welland's recreational canal every few Fridays in the summer. The combination of fire, water, music (and another facet that they don't mention in the event's marketing but should: the desirable smell of burning junks of wood!) culminate in a stellar way to spend a summer evening close to home!!

As I was leaning back on my hands in the grass, taking the occasional picture, I kept thinking that I should make my way up against that frame of stone blocks that lined the edge of the bank. I'm so glad I did it for his last set! Perched against the stones with my camera, I was in awe of the reflection cast by the calm canal water that separated me from the stage.