Traveling

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More photos from in and around our digs. Meet Eduardo y Blanca. They run a terrific restaurant, El Cardon, which was about a two minute walk from our place and where we had dinner nearly every night.

Eduardo makes a mean margarita, and Blanca is a wizard in the postage-stamp kitchen. These are her rellenos. A mi me gusta!

Sunrise on the Sierra La Giganta

We saw so many butterflies. Happiness.

This is a hummingbird nest! Though I question the mama’s placement, exposed over pavement, her construction method was lovely. It was about the size of a hacky-sack, and, in moments of stillness, the sweetest of tiny chirps could be heard from the babies.

Sunset at LAX

On our way home…

 

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Hola! It’s time for our day trip to Mision San Javier, which lies about 30 km to the west of Loreto. It was actually meant to be a day on the water, with this first photo taken on the malecon waiting for our boat, but the sea was muy bravo, so we had to save our time with dolpins, whales, and sea lions for our next trip.

These are paintings made by the indigenous people of Baja before the missionaries arrived and their lives were forever changed.

The Calvary Cross that greets visitors to Mision San Javier and the tiny town (150 occupants) that bears its name.

A close cousin of a matilija poppy, I think.

Mision San Javier

 

Built with great care by indigenous people whose populations would be decimated by hard labor and European diseases.

Our Lady of Guadalupe

It is a beautiful building, one of the first with pane windows.

Meticulously cared for, it is still used for mass.

This olive tree was planted by the Jesuits over 300 years ago.

The Jesuits taught the locals how to make use of the springs to grow things like olives, oranges, mangoes, and some very famous onions. It was pretty wild to see such a bounty in a desert, truly an oasis.

In a place where it rarely rains and the average low temperature hovers around 50 degrees, it is common to see walls made entirely out of palm. I was awestruck.

Greg makes a friend, of course. He’s cool like that…

Gato tranquilo

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Baja!

 Hola amigos!

Bienvenidos a Mexico and our home away from home in Loreto. It was a week of glorious sun with every possible moment spent out of doors. Lying in the sun. Reading. Knitting. Walking. Napping. Generally having a marvelous time. We partook of lots of delicious food, margaritas and beer, and encountered a bounty of gentle souls. Fellow travelers. American and Canadian ex-pats. Mexicans. Dogs. Cats.

It was a welcome diversion from the cold and grey of Portland, though the sun is shining here, for today, at least!

Have Bikini – Will Travel.

The above photos were taken in and around the development where we stayed. It is lovely and quiet and filled with some of the nicest people around.

My morning ritual – watching the sunrise.

The Sea of Cortez

Though it was not planned, Francisco became our driver during our stay. He was probably our age, but was very fatherly and protective of us. A sweetheart.

I am always dazzled by old architecture. Mision Loreto dates to the late 1600s.

25th October 1697

Come on people, feed this bird!

The Main Square

This fence is made with cactus.

Orlando’s – very good chile rellenos!

There’s more to come…

 

 

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For my final post on Montreal, welcome to our home away from home, Rue Tourville, tiny and easy to miss.

A cool painting hanging on the wall of our rented abode and one of the highlights of the trip: CIDER! This is ice cider, some of which is made from apples allowed to freeze on the tree before fermentation, while others are made from juice that is allowed to freeze. In either case, it is delicious. The hubster and I decided it is the port of apple ciders, sweet and kind of potent, meant for slow sipping (or pouring over ice cream!). In addition to this rather fancy bottle, I also nearly drank my weight in regular hard cider (dry not sweet), though to call it regular is a shame, because damn, Canadians really have a way with it, and as a big fan and consumer (second only to my love for whiskey), I feel I can say this with some authority.

More shots of our abode. Silly and a tad glamorous at the same time.

Saint Zotique, a neighborhood jewel.

Red mail boxes. Classic.

These are the buildings in the neighborhood.

Place Saint Henri Metro Station, dreamy.

He played Led Zeppelin in the most unexpectedly beautiful way, and I felt lucky to hear it.

Cafe Saint Henri, really good coffee in divine light.

The Marche Atwater, a very cool public market reminiscent of Seattle’s Pike Place, though this seems to be strictly for food,

like dark chocolate cake,

and macaroons. The pink was my favorite. I like it when pretty and yummy collide.

 And then poutine (twice: once the traditional way, the other with spicy peppers and sausage, the best), with beer for the hubster and cider for me, but you saw that coming, didn’t you?

Winter is coming…

Merci mille fois, chere Montreal!

 

 

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Bonjour de Montreal! We’re at Faberge, a super yummy breakfast spot that we would have fallen head over heels for even if we didn’t happen to know the awesome chef, Greg’s cousin (once removed), Aubrey. We had the best fried chicken and waffles. I say that with a sad face, I might add, because it’s so dang far. We need to get to work on a local solution. Stat!

With full bellies, we spy some fabulous roof toppers on our way to Mont Royal, a beautiful Frederick Law Olmstead Park. For Portlanders not in the know, he’s responsible for Laurelhurst, too!

A very green alley with the requisite pigeon.

Monument to Jacques Cartier. He arrived in Montreal in 1535.

Montreal and the Saint Lawrence River from Mont Royal.

A hop, skip, and a jump away is the Montreal Olympic Stadium.

Quite possibly, the most beautiful mural I’ve ever seen.

L’Ecole Nationale de Theatre on Rue Laurier, Mile-End

Richard Morin, Artist

A benefit to speaking the language. This says, “The cow that farts.” Cheeky!

Oh dear, welcome to Cacao 70, aka chocolate nirvana. Every kind of chocolate. Every kind of way. I’m looking to the side because she is bringing more! There were waffles, chocolate fondue, chocolate beads with crunchy middles, a little chocolate shake, strawberries, bananas, and that weird thing on the right? Where we roasted marshmallows, of course! Oh, and right when you sit down, they bring a tiny mug of hot chocolate, just cuz. Sigh.

The Toi Moi et Cafe had a latte nearly as big as my head and really good food.

Beautiful ubiquity.

The Canadian Center for Architecture!

This fan was overwhelmed by the collection of architectural drawings and models,

and deeply saddened that they didn’t allow photographs, save of the building itself. But I won, anyhow, because the poster advertising the James Stirling exhibit had precisely what I wanted, so a photo of a photo. Not too shabby.

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Bienvenue a Quebec! The second leg of our trip east that included The Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, but does not, much to my chagrin, include accent marks. One fine day…

I hoped to share this with you sooner, but that fun visit from my uncle and quite a few projects around the house gobbled up all my time, so here we are, nearly a month later. Quebec, and more specifically, Montreal. Have you ever been? Oh me, oh my, were it not for the fact that we know a thing or two about snow and bitter cold, the hubster and I would pack up our belongings and skedaddle. With friendly people, street after street of fine buildings, delicious food, the best hard cider on the cheap, fine markets, and nearly everything within walking distance, ooh la la! Oh, and there’s that, too, the ability to speak French!

Montreal is gorgeous, and in summer, lovely and warm, a touch on the humid side, wrapped up by the mighty St. Lawrence. It is a dazzling combination of old and new architecture, with fabulous 250 year-old stone buildings within walking distance of brand-new monoliths of steel and glass. I cannot tell you how many times I squealed in glee at some heavenly edifice. Like this one, Marie Reine du Monde, smack-dab in downtown Montreal, and not-at-all out of place.

This newbie makes a nod to the city’s early structures with a glass turret. The hubster is an A-1 turret fan. I suspect that if he had his way, no building would be without one.

This is on Rue Notre Dame, where antique shops reign.

An intricate slate roof atop an old Banque de Montreal building. Swoon!

A fine slice of downtown skyline.

Under the Highway 10. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that door is a portal to another world. Beh, oui!

I became quite overwhelmed by all of the beautiful buildings.

And old clocks.

Basilique Notre-Dame de Montreal: I’m sure you can imagine the rest. It is pretty grand.

Old St. Sulpice Seminary, the oldest building in Montreal, dating from 1687.

The Banque de Montreal in all its splendor. Quiet echoes and Old-Hollywood in its air, I half-expected to see the ghost of Jimmy Stewart here, wearing a perfectly pressed suit. Did I ever tell you that I skipped a day of college to meet him? He was on a book tour for his poems. I was something like 753 in line for his autograph, but I got it! And, even better, as he was leaving, he walked by me, mere inches away, and I grabbed his hand. He looked down and smiled before his impossibly long legs carried him off.

 ”Poussez” means “push.” It is with these everyday words that I realize how much I enjoy speaking French. C’est vrai…

The New York Life and Aldred Buildings

The Palais de Justice reflecting its neighbor.

Edifice de la Sauvegarde, built 1913

A cute shop in Vieux Montreal

Hotel de Ville de Montreal

This is the door!

Woman with Pail

Chateau Ramezay: Benjamin Franklin slept here.

Notre Dame de Bon Secours, built in 1771

Marche Bonsecours

Pierre du Calvet: Benjamin Franklin ate here.

Jardin Nelson: Colleen and Gregory ate here.

The touristy covered patio out front belies the dazzling garden in back. Take a virtual tour here, for I cannot do it justice.

There is live jazz, delicious crepes, and smiles all around.

A protector, I hope.

 A nod to the McKenzie brothers, because, it’s Canada, eh. And they do say that, surprisingly often.

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“On the Rocks” French Mountain Cottage

Montgomery

Enosburg Falls

Newport

Welcome to The Northeast Kindgom of Vermont. Verdant rolling hills, farm after farm, sweet small towns with cow splat contests, and some of the nicest people around. They make hard cider and smoke meat and fish with corn cobbs. They have sugar shacks in dense maple forests and covered bridges spanning trout-filled rivers. Three thousand miles away, yet it feels like home.

This post is dedicated to Rupert. A very Good Man.

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Sooo…

This is Denver, for the time being.

This coming Monday, it will be fourteen years since we parted, not a single regret.

Left the golden sun and scorching summers.

Left bone rattling thunderstorms and white-hot lightning in the black of night.

Left snow of every stripe.

Left ice skate on the apartment pavement all winter-long.

Left static electric shocks and my hair standing on end.

Left lapis, azure, cerulean, sapphire, and plain blue skies.

Left behind

but not lost.

A road map etched on my heart.

Right to everything

Left to everyone

I’ve ever loved

THERE.

Forever Mine.

.

Colleen Sohn

p.s. A link to info about the Huichol VW. Very cool…

 

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Day Two of my Denver related posts, in honor of my Mama’s birthday! Happy, happy!

We’re starting at home on the giant rocks of my youth. The sight of many a photograph, much mischief, laughter, and games, even a kiss or two!

Close Encounters-type clouds greeted us in Boulder.

The Flatirons

and Chatauqua Park in all their splendor.

We’ll eat, drink, and be merry.

I’ll take a photo on the sly,

enjoy the light, and surprise my parents by ordering a side of green beans. The girl who flushed them down the toilet after sneaking them into her napkin, and after being discovered would thereafter cut them into small pieces and swallow like pills, has grown UP.

Boulder and the Pearl Street Mall, despite being far, far older than I,

remain quite the same. Beautiful brick facades,

the twice daily in their accuracy old clocks,

and eager buskers are just as I remember,

that sense of place that resonates.

Something to practice.

One Million Acts of Kindness

When I was little, and the trees in our yard were not so big, I loved gazing at the “castle” gleaming in the morning light from my bedroom window. When I see it now, I feel eight-years-old and giddy all over again. “The castle!”

Looking back to Boulder, the sky’s bark worse than its bite, at least that day.

Thomson Elementary – you were my school back when the doors were orange. I liked them better that way, more like the tigers we were.

Daddy takes me for a ride in his retirement present and drives like a teenager.

This is where I ran around barefoot, brown as a berry, and eager as the truth, from 1976 until 1993. My first home.

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Hi there! I hope you are ready for a slew of Denver photos, peeps. Because they are a-comin’! Starting with a Friday afternoon adventure downtown and over the bridge, with my handsome brothers, walking, talking, lauging, and smiling.

I used to work in the tall building, the Republic Plaza, up above that second black line, on the 36th floor, with stellar views of the city and Front Range. It was a mortgage company, and I was in college, a full-time student, worker bee, and romantic, dating a certain cutie-pie who I am now beyond proud to call the hubster.

On the Sixteenth Street Mall with that fine contrast of old and new.

The piano player had a sweet voice and a light touch on the keys. I tipped her and got a dazzling smile.

A glass elevator with no Chocolate Factory in sight. Too bad.

We are headed just to the left of the church, to a place I spotted on my way to Grandma’s house, roaming the streets in my thumping-bass rental car.

I love architecture and bridges!

Everyone is reaching for the sky

And happy for sunshine.

The Platte River

The sculpture looks like a giant pile of intestines, but is cool, nonetheless.

Live wire, eek!

We’re all fine now.

Horsing around.

Finally made it.

The Colorado flag whips and snaps,

over a small French Bistrot,

Z. Cuisine.

Aaron tries the absinthe.

Chris is not so sure.

I am, however. Gimme! Gimme!

Sneaky sister.

I love my brothers!

Happy, happy 19th wedding anniversary to me and the hubster! I still get giddy when I think about us, truth be told. Our bright-as-a-penny love, better than just about anything good (kittens!) and sparkly (stars!) and fine (whiskey!). Yup, yup.

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