Traveling

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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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