Air Canada  Flight 452

Boeing 767 en route to Ottawa

June 2010

Okay, this was so worth the extra ten thousand Aeroplan miles! Of course I DID use them out of necessity to secure the flight times that facilitated my making this trip at all.... but I figured hey, if that meant flying executive class.. surely I could muster up the strength to get myself through the ordeal somehow ...!!

Earlier today, I got to nestle into one of the Maple Leaf lounge's leather armchairs and sip a gratis cappucino with the June issue of the Walrus draped brazenly across my lap thinking 'This is who I should be all the time,'. But who was I kidding.. I was much too enthusiastic to pull off first class lounge habituation. Most of the guests don't even realise there are windows up here let alone gaze wide-eyed out of them at the sight of all the planes taxiing around their ashphalt playground before disappearing into the vast celestial highway. I further exposed my naivety by proceeding to carry my empty mug to the dirty dishes bin and disposing of my shortbread wrapper in the wastebucket before returning my borrowed magazine to its home amongst the rows of wooden racks. I grinned as I imagined how the other travellers must have been chuckling at me from behind their illuminated BlackBerry screens as they left their own leavings for the wait staff's disposal. Okay, they probably didn't notice me at all! But I'm delighted that I made the effort to come check this place out upon learning that I had a half an hour before departure. (As it turned out, my flight was grossly delayed much longer than that due to the G20 summit that was in full rage that same weekend!! But I didn't allow that to put a damper on my experience. After all, it did provide the opportunity for me to see Air Force One, among other international aviation representatives, from my jet window, which was pretty darn cool!)

So upon finally boarding and encountering a much shorter aisle walk than I'm used to, I find myself sinking into one of these tidy little pods. My own little corner of avionic heaven! I smile at my inherited ability to stretch out far enough to place my feet against the footrest across from me. During the flight, I partake in every little perk that is cheerfully offered to me.. a selection of wines shortly after takeoff, a steamed hand towel draped over my fingers with tongs, oh my... is that a chocolate croissant she is bringing to me? ummm yes I'll have that! I can't believe some people get to fly like this all the time!! And they are so accustomed to it!! Indifferent even! Well, I sure am content to have created the opportunity to experience it once and I fully intend to squeeze from it every last drop of opulence that I can!

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved



Wintermission at Firemen's Park, Niagara Falls, ON

                                                                                                   © Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

We veered into the glacial parking lot, our determined tires wavering and swimming through the densely packed snow, putting our trusty four-wheel drive system solidly to the test. The air was crowded with pristine snowflakes.. frosty feathers fluttering happily in the late afternoon breeze before coming to rest upon naked elm branches and seasonally abandoned swing seats. But it wasn't at all cold, it was pleasantly winter: fresh, agreeable, lively.

Upon retrieving two plastic toboggans and closing the hatch, I waded towards the achromatic hill behind two little guys who were bursting with innocent energy. They strode forward in anticipation, evidently oblivious to the impending downsides of going sliding: the periodic sting of cold snow against warm, exposed wrists and calves, the occasional assault of iced powder against the face upon reaching the bottom of the slope, and trudging uphill yet again with a plastic monstrosity pressed against the back, seemingly to have doubled in weight since the first run! Nope, they just wanted to slide... just as it should be!

I surveyed the modest incline and wondered if this could really be the big thrill ride that had been so heartily recommended to me over the past few snowy weeks. I decided that there must be another hill hiding somewhere around the park, but subsequently decided that it wasn't worth expending the energy to locate it. This one was perfect in their eyes, and I gleefully spent the next hour securing bright blue and green vessels against the slick launchpad, steadying them for embarking, then synchronising their release so as to ensure a fair race!

Eventually, however, some of the aforementioned consequences took their toll and one of them remembered that a tall, shiny thermos had made the trip with us. "Hot chocolate!!!!" he shrieked, and led the charge back to the parking lot. They patiently (okay, okay.. somewhat impatiently!) took turns cradling the inverted thermos cap with snow covered mittens, savouring the smooth, warm chocolate as its sweet smelling steam swirled against their flushed cheeks.. one of the definite upsides of going sliding!

Both sides of Queen Street West, Toronto

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I am looking at a row of stores, teeming with clever merchandising displays, trance inducing sale racks, and the next big deal.... a cavalcade of retail rendezvous and commercial camaraderie. But at which side of the street am I actually looking? What I really see is the building behind me, which is the same view that the people inhabiting the floors above EB Games and clic klak are viewing. Mirrored architectural facades are a bit of a guilty pleasure with me; I always find myself enthralled by very simple concepts such as these, and so indulge. I like to imagine how much more interesting a city's streets would be if every historic building were able to look across the street and see its own reflection, or to muse about how flat and colourless this building might be without its vermillion costume of bricks and arches. I suppose if a storefront were situated across from a derelict, hulking shell of a structure, one would not want to apply reflective panes to its exterior. But here, it works. I also enjoy the way a clean image on one side is delightfully distorted on the other, a watery, stylised version of a predictable arrangement.

This was taken on one of my favourite days of 2010, a late afternoon jaunt full of autumn freshness, intriguing photographic exploration, and a breezy, schedule-free itinerary... it was one of those episodes that found me dangling before everything stimulating, frequently with a unabashedly silly grin on my face. I think as adults, we don't engage in enough frivolous downtime, we don't often allow ourselves an afternoon to guiltlessly unhook our responsibilities and toss them into the trunk with the other incidentals as we purposely seek out a locale that inspires us... or simply causes us to grin incessantly. Of course length of exposure and quality of human accompaniment affect the effectiveness of such an escape, both of which satisfied my needs quite nicely on the day in question!

Cape Spear, Newfoundland

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

I remain unintrigued by those pretty, smooth, predictable offerings that have been primped for the eye and sheltered from actuality. Show me instead something that bears the scars of chronological intervals and atmospheric temperaments. 

The abandoned barracks at what was once named Fort Cape Spear are a haunting display of such an establishment! Constructed in 1941, they didn't even get to experience any World War II action, having been built in anticipation of attacks that never happened. I find it somewhat sad that so much work was put into constructing bunkers and messhalls to house soldiers that never got to fight, but it did serve its purpose just the same: to protect the entry into St. John's Harbour.

I love this surreal, haunting, almost confusing image. My first thought is that it looks like a grotesque picture that has been framed and hung on an equally grotesque wall. It is, in fact, a shieldless window with veritable depth behind it that just happened to have been unmaintained for a few decades! The only action this site sees now is from touring visitors.

The Chateau Laurier in Ottawa

                                                                                                                                     © Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

So it would really be fine with me if my living room were to exude the character and class of the lobby of the Chateau Laurier.. I love that there is so much space but yet the furniture is arranged to instigate intimate conversation or perhaps a spirited exchange of opinions or even some provocative banter. How could any interaction be mundane while surrounded by rich, stately mahogany walls adorned with exquisite evidence of Karsh's photographic wisdom and artistry.. nary a lego brick or beheaded Nintendo figure or diminished crayon in sight. I love elementary creative play, but this.. this is a place for elegance and sophistication.. at least it is in my mind:

I step onto the lush carpet, breathtakingly adorned in a crimson floor-length Vera Wang gown and sky high Christian Louboutin pumps. The plunging neckline is gracefully bare, providing a silky backdrop for the sparkling chandeliers that are dancing suggestively from my earlobes. I am promptly greeted by the one smiling face that I intensely wanted to see and soon find myself the recipient of some proficiently delivered compliments that coat my ears like warm literary chocolate.  My expression ameliorates into a unavoidable smile as I accept the warm, outstretched hand that hovers before me and drift through the door in a swirl of satin leaving nothing behind but invisible streams of air delicately infused with Chanel No. 5.

Manhattan

October, 2010

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved


It was actually pretty exhilerating to be on a subway heading for the home turf of the Staten Island Ferry and not being absolutely certain that we were on the right train or going in the right direction! I mean, we had a good idea, but it's not like were following a tour guide. My philosophy when sightseeing and spelunking is to have conducted some research ahead of time, and to ask somebody for direction when you know you are close.

My research consists of entering the city on Google Maps and producing a few schematics - printed evidence of having zoomed in both directions - and bringing them with me. Then, when I am there, I query someone who is in a position to safely and reasonably point me in the right direction. Done deal. GPS devices need not apply.

So as we were swiftly moving towards our destination, the possibility manifested that our train was Brooklyn bound. I don't recall why this was perceived as adverse information, but it didn't phase me. If we were taken further than we were expecting to go, we'll just go back.... all part of the adventure! And as you can see from the picture, we did make it there, because Bowling Green is pretty much around the corner from the dock!

This is me "Enjoy(ing) a perfect morning drive" on a shuttle in downtown Chicago

July 2010

                                                                                                                     © Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

What makes your morning drive perfect? Does it depend on your eventual destination or what sort of activity awaits your attention upon your arrival? Or are you able to isolate your journey from its completion and derive pleasure simply from the changing scenery that scrolls past your vision and the control that you untimately have over your your gas pedal and your GPS? Perhaps the events that preceded your morning drive are still pirouetting around in your head and affecting your excursion, be it negatively or positively.

Does it depend on the temperament of the atmosphere.. whether or not the sun is gleefully lighting your way? Maybe it's governed by the person occupying the seat next to you or behind you, or the absense of anyone at all.

How about traffic? Does the imposition of congested avenues force your blood pressure to soar and your mood to plummet as your hands impatiently grip the steering wheel in frustration? Or do you merely sit and wait, listening to your favourite tunes, accepting as a part of life the fact that many other people just happen to be travelling in the same direction as you at any given hour?

Perhaps you are just not a morning person and the phrase 'perfect morning drive' is completely non-existent in your world because you would not be driving anywhere before noon if it were up to you! Or maybe you agree with whoever posted this ad on the side of the Grey Line Shuttle Bus and believe that the perfect morning drive can only take place on a golf course.

For me on that day, the morning drive was indeed perfect because instead of being tasked with maneuvering a vehicle in a complex, unfamiliar downtown, I was instead able to relax and revel in my eclectic urban surroundings, just as a person on vacation ought to do!

By the way, I am in the upper left corner of the picture, sitting on the bus behind the girl in the white headband, shooting our reflection!