Are some cities better than others for singles?

A sewer drain in Brussels! A work of art! 2012

Almost five days in Paris, and this Princess has been asked to go dancing, share a Bordeaux, sip a café on a terrace and never mind random smiles, flirty exchanges, and savored compliments by the locals.

Which brings me to my questions. Is it easier being single in some cities over others? Could the streets in Paris offer more opportunities to flirt, receive delightful smiles, or witness chivalrous gestures by members of the opposite sex? Why are these opportunities less present back home?

It seems in Montreal, my single friends and I in our forties rely on online dating, meets ups or special singles activities like Cook and Dates or Speed Dating.
Could the European culture and mindset be all that different from the North American one? Are we wired differently?

Perhaps, the vacation mindset of a single traveler is different than when he/she is back home, with the weight of the world on each shoulder.

I know my vibe is different when I embark on a solo journey. I become footloose and fancy free. I feel more confident, and extroverted than my usual self. I happily wear lipstick every morning, as I have the time to doll up and not tend to other members of my family.

But then I wonder. Should I be dolling up for morning carpool and running errands? Will I have a flirty exchange with a gentleman in aisle four at the local grocery store?

While roaming a cobblestone road this morning at 8am, no less, a handsomely suited gentleman (minus his Marlboro would have been nicer), who was about to step in to an office building, stops me to say "you have a beautiful smile", to which I respond "was I smiling?" The gentleman follows up in French with "Oui et vos yeux pétillent" ( Yes and your eyes sparkle).

So, how does one bottle that footloose and fancy free aura and bring some back to one's hometown?

Being single for the last little while and having been blessed with amazing travels, I have always had the pleasure of meeting interesting people from around the world. As for members of the opposite sex, I have met some interesting individuals where we have shared a meal, a drink, a walk/hike, or toured the city discovering hidden gems. The cultural differences make for an interesting dynamic; their accents always hit high on the sexy meter; the topics of conversation are original and varied, as opposed to "first date banter" back home. A tiny reference to dress code: European men rule when it comes to clothing, I think back to my travels to Italy, Scandinavia, France and Belgium, these men make it easy to ogle. I will admit to being shallow at times! Sue me.

To being flirty, footloose and fancy free in Montreal! Should I be contemplating moving to Europe, once my sons are all grown up?
Food for thought, that is for sure!

Vibrant Paris!

If one is looking for a heightened, multi-sensory approach to one's travels, then one should head to Paris!

From the moment my Thalys train from Brussels arrived speedily to La Gare du Nord, in Paris, the experience began instantly.

It took over half an hour to get a cab driver willing to take me to my destination. A group of drivers were arguing over their disinterest to "pick me up" and drive me to La Place de L'Opéra. Just hearing them converse would make one think that I was asking them to drive me to some hell hole on earth! Granted I did arrive on le 14 juillet, also known as French National Day (Bastille), where streets and major arteries were closed down for parades and celebrations.

One brave cabdriver, outside of the ones arguing, walked over to me and offered to take me. Wow! I quickly understood why. He had set up a live feed of the parade on one of his many smart phones. No, I didn't ask any questions! As it turned out, he knew which streets were open and which remained closed.

I thanked him for his bravery, quick thinking and dropped off my luggage, in my closet, also known as my hotel room, complete with a bathroom with no shower curtain or glass. I knew what it was like to be Moses parting the sea after my shower! What a disastrous mess.

So now, I am in Paris again after close to ten years, maybe twelve years. Having walked around what I knew well, namely Place Vendôme, Place de la Concorde, Place de l'Opéra and le Jardin des Tuileries, I was happy to see that many of my favorite eateries and shops were still there. It was comforting to see. My all time favorite Salon de Thé Angelina was still there, on rue de Rivoli. Much like Schwartz's in Montreal, the line ups outside this coffee shop/pastry store are surreal.

Toward late afternoon, I had noticed throngs of people gathered at the majestic Opera House, with busts of the many great composers of times gone by. I made my way to see a busker perform for what seemed like a thousand gathered people, from all walks of life. Tourists or locals, elderly or young, ultra religious or not, rich or poor, drunk or not found themselves standing or sitting side by side, listening to Youri from Capri, Italy sing originals as well as covers from Adele to Freddie Mercury.

I found myself a spot on the steps of the Opera House and basked in his rendition of songs. I listened to what brought this man to leave his "Mama and pasta" and travel the world to find himself. He connected with the crowd through his usage of multiple languages, his tales and his music, which explained how all these differences stood side by side.

A great first day in Paris!

Picturesque Bruges and its Lake of Love

Bruges looks like a fairy tale, complete with meandering canals, narrow cobblestone streets, gabled homes, a charming market square and a tranquil Lake of Love, first founded in 1245 by the Countess Margaret of Constantinople.

The tour guide explained that this Countess was a begijns, a religious woman, similar to a nun, in that these women accepted vows of chastity and obedience but preferred to earn a living by looking after the sick and making lace.

These religious women are no longer around and Benedictine Nuns continue the begijns traditions. The beguine courtyard is a tranquil zone and the Lake of Love is a peaceful place to roam and ponder.

Within my tour group, I befriended a gentleman, an avid photographer, from Quebec City no less. We both happened to be trapped in a mostly German group. It didn't take long for both of us to escape and discover Bruges with our lenses in tow.

We meandered through the tranquil oasis of the Lake of Love and its garden and walked the narrow cobblestone roads. Note to self, runners next time to handle the uneven grounds with less plantar pain.

Early afternoon, we took a canal ride along the river to see Bruges through a different angle. The landscape was magical!

We ended our jaunt at the market square, sat at a terrace and savored Belgian beer, as I was still on a mission to try out their other delightful labels. Not sure my luggage can handle these beer bottles! What to do? Perhaps, ship them?

Blessed in Brussels

This Caspian Jewess was blessed today, in a church in Brussels, by a man, with his hands dipped in blessed water which he in turn used to touch my forehead and either shoulders.
The odd part isn't that this man reached out to me, or that I found peace in a church; rather the peculiar thing was more when it happened. I was leaving the church and throngs of people were entering at that same moment. When the last person entered, he stared at me, dipped his fingers in the holy water and began the ritual.

Why?
Did he sense I was a member of another tribe? Did he feel I needed a blessing? Is this customary in a church to enter and bless the person leaving?
One thing for sure, we both held each other's gaze.

With that in mind, I felt blessed for a variety of reasons. I discovered a cute little organic bakery, Le Pain Quotidien, which offered a variety of organic breads and viennoiseries for breakfast in a family style atmosphere. Huge farmer style dining tables, an array of sour cherry jam jars, churned butter and other spreads. It was a great way to mingle with the locals and start up conversation or sit back quietly and read the local paper.

I also feel blessed for being at ease to roam the winding, cobblestone roads map free! It is a great feeling to know that you can make your way in a foreign city. I know some of my friends will be amused with this particular section of the blog, as they know that there are certain zones in my hometown where I require the use of my handy dandy Tom Tom. Perhaps the pedestrian lifestyle is more my calling?

Last but not least, I feel blessed to be in a foodie's paradise, in Brussels. Surrounded by delicious beers, chocolatiers galore, baked goods and waffle central, I am grateful to be car less, and aimlessly walking about to burn some semblance of these delicious calories!

Pilatus Kulm

As a seasoned traveler, I try my best to avoid tour companies. Over time, I have come to discover, that even as a solo traveler, I am not a huge fan of big groups, obnoxious people in droves, and tired tour guides who have perhaps done the tour one too many times.

That being said, every once in a while, I cave and join a tour company for the day when I wish to discover a place far enough that requires some explaining and some transportation.

Which brings me to Pilatus Kulm, not far from Lucerne. In 2009, I had done Rigi Kulm with this same tour company and was immensely pleased. I was hoping for the same wow factor. Needless to say, the people in the group can make the experience worth while or break it.

Pilatus in itself was a beautiful mountain, at about 7000 feet above sea level. Long time ago, the clergy believed that the mountain was demonized with dragons. It took the clergy a few attempts to trust that the great Pilatus was a safe place and so it was re-opened, once again to the general public.

To get to the top of this mountain, there are two gondola rides which bring tourists to bask in the views of Swiss Alps.
I failed to mention that while on the bus, there was a huge Iranian group from California. I am not proud to say that they were fellow Caspian Sea dwellers. I am also sad to say that understanding every word that came out of their mouths was embarrassing at best.

I guess the buck stopped when this one couple and a silver haired gentleman, all decked in designer labels and heavy perfume began to speak behind my back as we were lined up for a four seater gondola ride.
I was lined up ahead of them and overheard Agha Smelly Pants (Agha meaning Mister) say to his travel buddies that I hope to god we are not going to be stuck with that loner on the bus....we won't be able to be just us.

And so what do you think This Caspian Princess spewed? Take a wild guess? Please.

In a stiff Farsi, (their mother tongue), I said: did you maybe think I may not want to be stuck with the three of you on this Gondola? But seeing as my mother raised me well, please won't you step in?

I love the shock factor. For one, I don't look my heritage. Two, it is quite handy to have a semblance of language in a functional state for that special moment.

Well, needless to say, they climbed aboard and I surprisingly made friends.
At least, they thought so. They even had me sit next to Mister Smelly Pants and took our picture for posterity sake.
Obviously what followed was idle chit chat about my genealogy and the excitement ended once my mother was from Haifa. Mister Smelly Pants quickly mentioned that in the 16 Iranian couples, there was a token Jew amongst them. It's your family, you should meet them,he said.

Oh boy!
How to loose them on The Great Mount Pilatus?

Wanderlust

The desire to travel, blend in with the locals, to bathe in the local culture, to taste the culinary delights are all ingredients for my perfect wanderlust.

It takes me close to a year to plan my summer trips. The ten days to two weeks, where my sons are off with their father, enable me to escape and wander off in hope for adventure, a little bit of a creative outlet, meeting new faces and hearing their stories, all the while hoping to learn something new.

Which brings me to the start of this summer's adventure, Switzerland! The flight in was pleasant and surprisingly restful. I shockingly napped. In best of circumstances, I sleep poorly back home, and yet the plane ride lulled me to sleep.

Once I landed in Zurich's Flughafen, I walked over to the rail way station to purchase a ticket to Old Town Zurich. Somewhere between buying the ticket and closely watching two young lovers reunite near an escalator, I got lost.

I chose to follow the lovers, who amused me immensely, instead of getting on my specific train, heading to my hotel. En effect, j'ai pris le chemin des écoliers! What if I said, it was well worth it, even in my semi jet lagged self?

This couple, in their twenties, had just caught up at the train station. The young man appeared to be living in Zurich, even though he appeared far from being a local. He seemed to be an English speaking foreigner.

The young lady flew from Toronto, spoke English decently, French barely and hints of German as it was far from fluid.

He greeted her with a multi-colored bouquet of roses and they shared a tender moment...and so began my journey with this couple.

Throughout the train ride, they spoke of oddities, in a broken version of English, French, and German. Neither accents were well respected and a few times, I had to hold back from asking them what is their actual mother tongue.

In Quebec, I had heard of Franglais, a mangled version of French and English; alas, their version was foreign to me.
These two managed to bastardize all three languages in a delightful, bemusing way. One couldn't help but be drawn and entertained...until of course, one realized one's train was heading the wrong way.

It took me forty minutes to make my way back to Old Town Zurich, a train, two buses and a tram plus a lot of walking with luggage, up a cobblestone, winding road.
Welcome to Zurich!

Oslo and the midnight sun

Oslo, Oslo!!! What a pleasure it was to roam the capital....only 600,000 inhabitants in Oslo and over a million live in the Metropolitan area, yet one in five people own a boat of sorts, which explains why Oslo has a large harbour and many marinas. As for the midnight sun, not sure why this term is used as the sun sets around 10:30-11pm and rises around 3:30am ( if not sooner!).  No shortage of daylight and plenty of time to roam and stroll though the city. The body feels tired but the mind keeps going on!

Initially, I was surprised to see few cars on the road in and around the city center. Pedestrians can run relatively freely without having to face noise pollution and or traffic. Most cars in Oslo cross the city center using tunnels. Unlike Denmark, Holland or Germany, biking as a main means of transport is not all that apparent. Locals use the trams, the subways and buses. Tourists, however, can get duped by the taxi system. Thanks to Rick Steves, I was well informed to ask for one specific cab company. Yet even so, the driver managed to pull a fast one; arriving at the destination, the meter would read one thing while he requested another sum of money. “Minimum charge” he would chime. Not sure why the city of Oslo has yet to standardize these guys.

The harbour front boasts huge cruise ships that dock daily. Looking ahead into the Oslofjor, one sees 40 some odd islands with summer cabins for the locals to escape city life, to swim, to have a BBQ and most of all to relax. Aboard a cruise that sails further out into the water, one notices the most unusual landscape: summer cabins in bright colours in the valleys along with twin miniature versions by the edge of the water. Apparently, way back when, when the locals wished to swim and failed to “find” swimsuits, they would enter the miniature cabins that would allow the vacationer to remove their clothing in privacy while slipping into the water for a cool swim.

A multitude of mini museums are available in a park like peninsula, which showcase the rich history of The Norwegian Vikings (Viking Ship Museum), The Kon-Tiki Museum (which Thor Heyerdahl proved that early civilisations and their then technology could have crossed the oceans), and The Fram Museum (with the tales of Norwegian explorers who attempted to discover the North pole (failed), then attempted and succeeded to discover the South Pole, and in the process made an English explorer terribly disappointed as the challenge was already had by Norway).

Frogner Park (75 acres) was heaven on earth! Imagine a beautiful green park, manicured to some extent, with tall trees, green grass (not green weed), and 600 sculptures in bronze and granite of nudes by Gustav Vigeland, who captured universal themes in life such as birth, childhood, romance, struggle, child-rearing, old age and death. An artist who marvelled at August Rodin’s carving talent, he required  funds to begin his life’s passion. So in 1921, he made a deal with the city of Oslo where he would be offered a studio, a park and material...in exchange, he would beautify a park with his sculptures. I was moved by many of these displays. They were thought provoking and generated a well of emotion from within.

The people of Norway are reserved at first glance. That being said, they are more than happy to help a traveller find their way, share their favourite points of interest in their hometown, and they do so with a smile and in English! Education being free, they tend to be highly educated with a proud sense of philanthropy. I had the pleasure of meeting a local on a terrace and needless to say, three hours went by relatively easy with conversations about local politics, economy, day to day life, the trend of their society and immigration. Did you know that should you decide to get an education in Oslo, even as a foreign student the tuition in non-existent! As a parent, I am wondering why wouldn’t I invite and or convince my sons to consider studying abroad.

Food for thought!

Welcome to Copenhagen!

It’s been a day and a half of trudging in the rain. I know I sound depressed. Truth is, if I had my Billy Boots on and a raincoat to keep me dry, this dreary cold weather in Denmark wouldn’t phase me in the least. Yet, I will pleasantly say that this setting has enabled me to nap in the afternoon, with a tiny window blowing in cool, fresh air, listening to the rain drops falling on the cobble stones. Every so often, (not to the hour or half for that matter) the church bells ring to remind me not to sleep too deeply.

Welcome to Copenhagen!

My initial exposure to this Danish city was a wee bit of a disappointment, as I had walked along Strøget, known as the longest European shopping street (finished in 1962 and apparently other Euro cities shortly after have duplicated this model for their tourism industry). What once must have been a typical 19^th Century architecture on this Danish street now looks like Americana with 7eleven’s, McDonald’s, Burger King, Irish Pubs (Home to the Vikings who journeyed to Ireland and brought back various influences), H&M and so on. Street crepe stations everywhere to feed your urge to nibble. For 30 Danish Kroners (5 to $1.00 CAD), the street vendor will fry you up a crepe with either Nutella or brown sugar and fold it into a paper wrap to allow you to continue on your merry way. Last I had checked, crepes are from France, Nutella from Italy, so I am not sure where the Danish experience here is. Delicious, never the less!! 

 

Another observation while roaming the streets, the heart and stroke foundation, here in Denmark, has yet to have educated the ill effects of cigarettes on one’s heart. You will easily find Danes biking along the cobble stone roads, with a ciggie between their lips. I guess they want the full “effects” of nicotine on exerted lungs. Typical life expectancy in Denmark is 78 years of age, surprisingly! Must be all the organic foods they consume. Incidentally, it’s amazing to witness how green, ecological and organic this place is. Wandering inside a grocery store, an organic produce is not competing with anything. Non-organic and organic varieties are priced the same. Eating organic is easy and readily available in local restaurants too. That mesclun salad sure tastes yummy!

English language is readily used by the locals. The Danes are friendly, welcoming, and helpful with the tourism industry. They will go above and beyond to help a tourist out. I had an issue with my three prong wire for laptop and the hotel was kind enough to call in a technician to bring in a new compatible laptop wire while here in Copenhagen. The hotel ran out of umbrellas, and the front desk attendant ran down to his locker room to hand me his very own. I was most touched when a tourist and her baby in a backpack carrier were struggling in the hard rain, and this random local kindly offered his umbrella to the mother and said “to keep your baby from getting anymore wet”. Random acts of kindness at its best!!! I smiled inside and was happy to have witnessed it.

Though they speak English readily, expect to hear cute oddities such as when one points to the right eye, you will hear a Dane say “the right hand eye” or if you care for some runners, be sure to stop by the store called “The Athlete’s Foot”. Amusing, wouldn’t you agree?

I spent a few hours visiting Rosenborg Castle, Treasury and Gardens. History books regarding the monarchy in Denmark seem to praise the life of King Christian IV.  Knick named “a lover and a fighter”, he left a great legacy behind from the Rosenborg Castle (his summer home and place of death), to the Frederiksborg Palace, The Round Tower, and Christianshavn. Many properties around Copenhagen display his logo. A tour into his summer “home” gave me the glimpse of a “party-animal” with an earing, a trendy braid... known to have been a drinker with lovers galore. He exuded sexuality and his choice of paintings reflected his enjoyment of the flesh! (kids, or rather parents beware-PG 13!) He was also said to have been an energetic doer and a warrior.

Interesting fact is most often when one walks around castles from long ago, visitors and museum curators don’t often know the height, weight and blood type of monarchs. Yet, with King Christian IV, through paintings (unusual 3-dimensional), his girth is visible and his height is known from the warrior suits he once wore; during one particular battle costume, he injured and lost his eye (the right-hand eye that is!) and his blood stained his clothing.

Porcelain back in those days was called white liquid gold. It was imported from Asia and King Christian IV enjoyed displaying his Porcelain collection atop doorways, a sign of great wealth and nobility.

Muddling through the rain, I had a chance to roam the gardens and stare at the tall, leafy trees. Quite peaceful, indeed! Never had the chance to pull out my SLR and capture this delightful place, as the rain hit hard.

I am praying for a break in the rain so as to take a boat ride and visit the famous Danish canals.

Wish me luck!

Can a MaSsAgE go wrong?

Before I begin my mumblings about a massage and the predicament of my underwear, let me give you a tiny idea of my long relationship with SPAS. A few years back, when working at an elementary school, I had lost my phone. Needless to say, my phone was found thanks to this lovely, young Israeli teacher. Her comment, however, I will NEVER forget. She said “I tried to look up your list of contact to see if I can guess to whom the phone belonged; all I saw were SPAS, SPAS, SPAS!!!”

I guess there is no point in wondering  how well I know my way around the local spas in my hometown. It’s a sensation I love. It’s the unexpected I crave. It’s the variety in a touch I welcome. It’s that calmness that follows shortly after being rubbed down. I will admit to being spoiled.

Which brings me to Berlin and the wellness spa at my hotel...

After a few days of touring by foot the city of Berlin, I decided to request a massage at the reception of my hotel. The staff was more than happy to accommodate my wish and within an hour I am asked to head to the wellness center. Ah....the sound of that is music to my ears. Upon entering the center, I have to check myself in. It’s a Zen atmosphere, just as I had suspected it would be. Within a few minutes, an older gentleman asks me to enter his spa room and gives me strict instructions, such as “leave your slip on (underwear), lie on your front first and forget about the face/neck cage....just drag yourself down as low to the tip of the bed”. Now imagine those instructions being given to you by Arnold Schwartzneger meets old man.

I was annoyed at having to leave my underwear on. Having had too many massages to count, I do know that I have grown to enjoy an underwear-free experience where a wide-white sheet is draped over you for proper coverage and the therapist can work on your lower back without tugging at anything. Arnold, however, has other plans.

He leaves the room and it dawns on me there is this tiny towel with which to cover my shapeliness. My headspace is simple “Caspian Princess, your underwear remains. So what is your problem?” Alright, I face upward and use the towel to cover a zone. He enters the room, sits on a chair at the tip of the table where my toes lie, dribbles lemon oil on my tootsies and begins to rub. Do you see how that baby in the photograph covers his eyes with hands? Well that was me.

Meanwhile, I hear an elliptical, a treadmill, a child running a mock...I explain to him this is not very ZEN. He steps out for a minute, addresses the noise and returns. The noise pollution remains. I try to focus on feet being rubbed and instead my mind wonders off to how small my towel is...and the noise of course re-surfaces. I sit up, holding my chest and the tiny towel and tell him “am sorry, this is not going to work for me”. He looks a little puzzled. He then suggests heading to my room to resume a tranquil session there. I guess I can live with that.

Now I am helping him pack up his equipment. We head to the elevator. We enter my room. He gets his bearings. We are now ready for Take Two. The towel is still small. I do not give in to my inner neurosis about Egyptian cotton and its petite-ness. Instead, I welcome this experience. My eyes are facing the ceiling and he begins to rub my feet with gusto. Unlike other therapists who pour the oil over their hands, he pours droplets on my skin. I embrace this new technique. Shortly after the foot rub, I understand his insistence to have me wear underwear as he does NOT KNOW how to manage the tiny towel. He abruptly throws it over my chest to have access to both my legs and begins the simultaneous rub down of both my thighs.....

And yet I still embrace it.

Now I am being asked to turn over (even though the arms have yet to be tended to). It is at this point that I realize this man is not a professional massage therapist and failed to hold back my laughter as he removed the entire MINI-towel and now my underwear was in full view. No Zen thoughts were crossing my mind now. In fact, quite the contrary. I spent the better part of 20 minutes holding back belly laughs. He was trying to massage the entire body all at once as his forearms tried to rub the entire body from neck to toe. I won’t bother telling you where my underwear travelled, or how wet with oil it got, or how NAKED I felt and never mind his hairy arms that rubbed my delicate skin. 

I ended my massage 10 minutes earlier than expected.

I couldn’t imagine a minute more. 

So much for my quest for a Zen experience in Berlin! How long will it take me to lie on someone else’s massage table?

Racism

While visiting The Radical, Cultural Jewish Museum in Berlin, of the many items on display, my eyes were most drawn to simple writings on a bare, white wall....trailing from one room to the next. It was documenting the earliest anti-Semitic comments in Germany.

Often times, I am asked by other cultures how come Jews are good with money? The question always puzzled me, primarily because I had no idea my tribesmen were seen that way, and why is it? Well, thanks to the insightful museum, I discovered that during the Reich, Jews were not allowed to enter many professions. They couldn't be craftsmen or traders. The church had views on Christians charging interest on loaned money. My tribesmen, at that time, having nothing to do with the Church, began loaning money and charging interest. Is this where our reputation regarding money began? Perhaps.
Then again, what is one supposed to do to earn a living when the government in power segregates job opportunities for some?
Weird thing is that Middle Age Germany was a Jewish Germany, with Jews being the first settlers. Go figure.

Though the museum did have many interesting findings on Jewish Germans and their long journey, I was drawn to the bare white walls with the most unusual sentences, by some famous Germans...
I will recount them and leave you to ponder some of these lines and ask yourself, how is it even possible to say those words out loud and would you catch yourself saying those same words about another religion or culture?

1798- They are nowadays the vampires of society-Immanuel Kant, Philosopher

1803- Karl Grattenauer, legal scholar, demands a yellow tag on the clothing of Jews.

1816- Friedrich Christian Ruhs, historian, demands new laws to protect Christians from the Jews.

1819- Croak Jew, Croak! Anti-Jewish rioting throughout Germany.

1838- The power of the money lies in the hands of the Jews-Catholic Newspaper

1848- The Jew does not work and lives better than we do, so away with the vermin. Poster in Minden.

1850- Richard Wagner, composer, cries out against the Jew-ification of modern art.

1860- Something foreign to us of an unpleasant nature. August Lamey, Politician in Baden

1860- Official dictionary refers to the "Semitic race of Jews"

1897- Jew-free resort.

1901- No Jews, please. Hotel Kolnischer Hof, Frankfurt

1902- The social isolation of the Jewish student has been accomplished. Association of German Students.

1913- A memorandum addressed to the Crown Prince demands that Jews pay double the taxes of Germans.

I stopped collecting the rest of the anti-Semitic words, as it became more and more transparent what would become the fate and future of Jews in Germany and Europe.

Holocaust Memorial Center in Berlin

Caspian Princess Pic

This memorial  to the murdered Jews of Europe, to the left of the Brandenburg Tor, took 17 years of discussion, planning and construction. On May 10, 2005, the vision of this memorial center to the Jewish victims of the Nazi-planned genocide of WWII  was created to share with the world.

I spent a few minutes digesting the words written on stone- MURDERED JEWS. I have memories of classroom teachings of the Holocaust, but I have zero recollection of the word murdered Jews. As obvious as the Nazis were in their plans....it was overwhelming to face those words.

The Caspian Princess_

The memorial is set up as two visiting levels. Street level, one can see a vast series of steale or tombstones, in various sizes, creating columns and where visitors can roam the lengths of  this undulating maze with 2711 sarcophagi-like columns. Signs nearby ask visitors to respect the space, remain quiet and not jump over the stones.

The Photo shoot...-Caspian Princess Pic

For the most part, visitors behave accordingly....but then again, some chose to sit on the stones and picnic or better yet others chose to have a photo shoot on the stone, posing with sunglasses and feet resting casually. Does the person realize and appreciate his freedom and his LIFE?

The Memorial Maze-Caspian Princess Pic

Below, is the museum portion of this memorial. The architect, a New Yorker by the name of Peter Eisenmann, created a mirror image of street level, using sombre lighting, same rectangular shapes and same maze like walking circuit. Visitors are greeted by an Italian-Jewish Writer, Primo Levi, who made it his legacy to inform the world that it happened once therefore it can happen again. The museum prides itself for representing the European dimension of the holocaust. Visitors are greeted with 6 European individuals who died during the war, fully aware that this was BUT a small representation of the many who perished.


Visitors are reminded of the Nazis' focus on humiliation, persecution, expulsion and extermination of Jews. Photographs, taken by SS officers, of women in Ukraine who were brought to a Ravine, asked to undress and were randomly shot to their death. One image shows a naked woman, who amidst the many dead bodies of her sisterhood, lifted her head to look up to the sky, only to be shot shortly after. Silence in the room. One hears only foot steps.


The museum managed to gather photographs of Jewish families from many European countries, displaying their genealogy, their legal documents and how many of them survived while others perished in various extermination camps. One photographs haunts me. Sabina Habermann. A young girl, in he teens, amongst other camp workers. She is the ONLY one not looking at the camera. The audio guide explains that was her sign for survival and refusal to accept the Nazi ways. he survived, married, had children and was a big part of the opening of this memorial center.


There was a grey map, with all the European and neighboring countries. With bright orange flags, they tagged most of Europe and North Africa where the Nazi regime had work camps, extermination camps, sites of mass shootings, starting points of deportation and ghettos where Jews were being held. A huge series of flags were centered around Poland.


In another room, they displayed only 8 camps: Auschwitz, Babji Jar, Sobibor, Kulmhof, Belzec, Treblinka, Birkenau, Majdanek and Malyj Trostinez. The last one was the least well know extermination camp, near the white Russian Capital of Minsk.For many years, scholars argued the validity of it being an extermination camp. Over time, it was unveiled that more than 60 000 Jews in 1942 were asked to dig their own graves, undress then died by mass shooting or poisonous gas.


Belzec was the FIRST of three extermination camps built by the SS in 1942, within the framework of Operation Reinhardt-code name for the planned mass murder of the Jews. This camp was located near a wooded area, by the railway line between Lublin and Lvov. Documented stats show that during the first four weeks, 30 000 Jews from Lublin, 15 000 from Lvov and 35 000 from other nearby ghettos were sentenced to death in gas chambers. In March 1943, the Nazis plowed through the area and replanted.


I walked away sombre for obvious reasons ....yet blessed for not having had to face such horrid situations. How lucky I am to be free and to raise my sons with an education and opportunities for their future.
And the 6 million who didn't get that same privilege....instead were murdered,

Willkommen to Berlin!!!

Gendarmenmarkt in Berlin-Caspian Princess Pics

Travel....what does it bring us?
I once read words by Rick Steve's who explained travel as intensified living, maximum thrills per minute and one of the last great sources of legal adventure. Travel is freedom, and recess we all need. Connecting with people from around the world, in their environment, with their customs and their way of life make one's personal life experience that much more meaningful. And lucky for me, the extrovert, it's way easy and fun!
Willkommen in Berlin!

I have been here for two days, and I have to say...it's a snazzy European city with old meets new mentality, variety in architecture, the Spree River running through it, vibrant locals with an appreciation for history, arts, music, and so much more. And to think that this city was built on the war's rubbles and fires, built upon the ashes

At first glance, driving into the city, one notices few cars on the road. Instead, many bikers, cyclist, and pedestrians roam the streets. There is a sense of decorum and respect. Berliners are proud of their city!
Interacting with the locals can seem a bit challenging at times, as they do not have a great handle on the English language, less so of French and never mind Italian and or Spanish. Expect to hear them ask you " sie sprechen Deutsch?" Asked them ``how close the museum is`` and expect them to say at 8pm. Ask them "may I join your tour group?" and they respond with "sorry it's private" as opposed to ``sure, just go sign up and the next tour starts in one hour!!`'
Few English signs. Berlin tourism could benefit from a wee bit of social graces and how to pitch a more inviting touristic atmosphere.`At the restaurant, should you dislike something or perhaps your drink was a mistake....well, too bad. You will still be responsible to pay the tab. Unlike all travel books from The Lonely Planet to Michelin guides, tipping is NOT included.That being said, unlike our Western counterparts, the locals are PLEASED with ten percent.

Brandenburg Tor-Caspian Princess Pics

I spent most of the day at the central district of Mitte, home to Brandenburger Tor, The Holocaust Memorial, The Reichstag, Gendarmenmarkt (where I am staying). Two main arteries: Unter den Lunden (to remind us of the glory days of Prussia) and Friedrichstrasse with its shops, hotels, theatres and restos.

Adlon Hotel-Caspian Princess Pics

I almost forgot to mention the famous Aldon hotel, which was rebuilt after the war. That being said Adlon is now world famous, thanks in part to the late Michael Jackson who held his infant with a blanket over her head in the most inappropriate of ways.

Tiergartn, Berlin-Caspian Princess Pics

I also spent some time in Kreuzberg (South of Mitte) which boasts a diverse group of locals (Turks, Arabs...) and yet the West side of Kreuzberg has more a bohemian chic feel to it....with popular sites like Checkpoint Charlie and the Judisches Museum. East of the Brandenburg gate, is The Central Park of Berlin called Tiergarten...perhaps not as large as the NY green space. Tiergarten is snug right next Postdamer Platz quater home of the post re-unification building project. At this site, a gorgeous soldier is stationed where once stood the famous Berlin wall dividing the East from the West. For 2 Euros 5, you can watch the soldier stamp a mock passport with 5 different stamps from the French, The Brits, The Germans and the Russians.

A tiny snapshot of a beautiful and informative city in Germany!!!

Mother and Son time, in Toronto!

As a mother, it is often a challenge to spend quality time with both my sons. As they are getting older, I see the importance of giving each child individual attention. Seeing as my youngest is the quiet, introverted of the two, he is often "ignored" and least likely to gain my attention. My eldest son, first born and gifted with a strong personality, is demanding of attention and interactions. Add to the mix the life of a single parent, one quickly realizes the challenge to set some semblance of balance in the household.
Fear not, it can be done...

I decided to fly with my youngest to Toronto for four days, to celebrate my sister's birthday, her dog "Happy's" birthday and still manage to spend some one on one time with my kidlink.
Clearly, one still needs to multi-task for best results!!

I am happy to report that I learned a lot interacting with my son. As quiet and discreet as he may be in our busy household, I discovered that he loves to talk intimately about things in his life, issues about being in a divorced household, sharing his interests ( now that no one else is competing for my attention), having a voice ( and at times a loud one at that!). Most of all, I was shocked to see how little he is given choices back home. During our trip, he was astonished when asked simple questions like what do you want to eat, where do you want to eat, what movie do you wish to see, what would you like to visit today?

As a mother, it's a rude awakening. My son blossomed on this trip. We both realised how easy it is to let the quiet one in the family go unnoticed.

Together, we roamed the streets of Yorkville, discovering The Royal Ontario Museum. My little guy soaked up The Natural History Museum. We spent three hours roaming the multi-level complex with HIM in mind. He chose his path, he chose where we lingered, what we read, where we discussed. I stood in wonder noticing how MUCH he knew about our world, about history...he is a walking wealth of knowledge!! A proud moment for this mom.

Along the way, I discovered with bright eyes that he has an eye for fashion. This little guy enjoyed window shopping along Bloor Avenue. He saw this princess eyeing a purse store. It didn't take him long before we entered the store and he began roaming the aisles scanning the purses and picking one up. "Mama, check this out! It will look great on you this Spring!"

When did THAT happen? When did this little guy develop an interest in fashion? The shop keeper was stunned and quickly realized that this kid was more likely to seal the sale than she ever could. I walked out with a canary yellow, fine leather purse, accessorised with a matching wallet....just in time for SPRING!

I wasn't all that shocked to see that along with his EYE for fashion, he has an EYE for composition. He grabbed my SLR and soon began fiddling with the features, snapping away at landscapes, Happy's mutt face, and people! I am not photogenic and hate most photographs taken of me...BUT....am proud to say this little guy took some awesome shots of his MAMA. When did that happen???

Meal times were perfect opportunities to chat and talk intimately about issues that trouble him at school or at home. He had a voice! He noticed he had undivided attention. He had an audience.

Moral of the story, as a mother we have telling jobs raising our kids to the best of our abilities.

Never mind clothing them, feeding them and tucking them into bed...I was reminded at how important it is to listen to our kids, give each child an opportunity to choose, decide without the circus-like behaviour of the regular household. Most of all, the quiet ones need our ATTENTION the most. It's too easy to let them slip away!!! Way too easy...

From slush to sand. The Yucatan Peninsula in 2011

The Princess and her sons decided to ring in the 2011 New Year with the Mayans. According to their 2012 Prophecy, this is our last year to enjoy this beautiful world. What better way to celebrate the changing year then by immersing oneself in their sand, sun and Agave plants. No, this princess has not developed a sudden interest in horticulture. Instead, she has discovered the essence of La Sauza. For the lay, this means Tequila. For those interested in the reasons behind worms in some lower end Tequila bottles...it has medicinal properties. Apparently, the Agave hosts those same worms and the elderly benefit from the “vitaminas” in the cocktail.

Though the weather in Montreal has been mild and gorgeous, one needs not an excuse to pass up the chance to roam sandy, sugar beaches, staring at the ocean under a palapa with an exotic drink at hand, kayaking the rocky waves, listening to endless tunes of Bob Marley “one love, one heart”...seriously, when did all sunny destinations become Marley Reps? Does Mexico not have its own music icon?

Resort culture is an interesting breed of community spirit. It is the one place where we roam freely with little clothing on. In fact, in some cases, some prefer the topless appeal of beachwear. Two ladies in their forties seemed to show little inhibition to sunbathe topless...even when one lady’s husband wondered if it was appropriate when my sons were blatantly staring at THEM. Interestingly, the lady did say the following “what’s the big deal, dear, they are not even REAL...remember, implants, Babe!” Upon closer inspection, I have to say she must have asked for a discounted rate...they were far from SPECTACULAR!

All inclusive resorts are in fact very appealing. You rarely need a wallet during the duration of your stay. Meals, activities and liquor are endless. It never seemed to be an issue until this trip where my adolescent son (almost 15) was wondering why was EVERYONE drunk starting from breakfast? I know of this one Princess who began a trend at the local coffee shop at 7am, where she would request her usual non-fat latte with a splash of Baileys. What??? Don’t knock it until you try it. I do need to royally thank the Emirates Winds for teaching me this most delightful, naughty behaviour. Baileys is now the better part of my healthy breakfast.

Aqua aerobics is a great social mixer for single folks. Oh ya, it also has an added advantage for keeping one fit. This is the one venue where you roam in your bathing suit, need not worry about your make up or hair-do and you bounce, punch, hop and hold hands with strangers. Why don’t I do aqua fitness back home? Should I check the local YMCA for the singles’ aqua mixer? Another interesting fact is watching the spectators watching the fitness buffs. It’s exhausting! Especially, when you are at the swim up bar at 11am having downed three rounds of the cocktail of the day.

All the beach front cuartos (bedrooms) had these outdoor Jacuzzis. As were walking along the path, my eldest saw an older middle-aged man about to enter his tub with his rubber ducky. At which point, my son screams out loud “Ah C’MON, whatever happened to people having boundaries?”

All this being said, it has been a pleasure awaking at 5:45am to walk out of my room and walk right on the sandy beach, find a chair and listen to the waves all the while watching the sunrise. No two sunrises look the same. I have seen various hues of orange and blue purple with fluffs of clouds. The pelicans that fly over head scouting for the next fish are a show stopper. I don’t stop often enough to watch the sunrise. About seven months ago, I had made it a point to sleep with half my shades down to allow the astonishing morning glow in my room. The habit had stopped. It’s now time to bring it back to LIFE.

Kangaroo tasting...in Quebec City??? Poor Kippy!

This past weekend, a friend and I headed to Quebec City to discover this old gem of a place, with a Euro flair right in North America. Charming,magical,friendly and EXPENSIVE a place....just like some places in Europe!

The harbour front in Quebec City boasts beautiful catamarans, sail boats and motor boats, with happy folks sipping and noshing on yummy treats while basking away, staring at the architectural backdrop of Old Quebec.
A good life, indeed.

My friend and I meandered the walk ways, passing street buskers, entertainers and live bands. One zone had some semblance of a beer garden in Munich, though tall trees and wooded trails were MIA. We both sat down and decided to enjoy this band playing tunes of Jack Johnson.

Now how does my poor Kippy fit into all this?
My friend, who is a take charge kind of guy and fully aware of my Kosher, granted loose dietary laws, says "how about I go inside the tent and pick us some treats to eat?"
Being a control freak, especially when it comes to my nutritional intake, I allowed him to run off and "surprise me". He walked away while chiming "don't worry, I know...no pork or ham or bacon".

Upon his return, he handed me a plate with what seemed like a "kebab wrap". I was somewhat touched, as I thought he had my Middle Eastern heritage in mind, kebabs and all, that is.
He dove right into his wrap while I kept staring at mine.
I smelled it, and discovered the scent was unusual.
I stared at it some more and asked "so what is this?".
He quickly answered, in between bites, "just eat it".
Being a bad listener, I kept staring at it.
Then I nagged him "you sure it's not pork or something, cuz it sure don't look like beef or chicken?"
With a full mouth, my friend mumbled "it's kangaroo!"
This time, I stared right at him, with the full notion that he enjoys yanking my chain.
I smiled and said "very funny".

Then, bravely, I took a bite of my mystery wrap and tasted the dry, chewy concoction.
Vile!!! No other words to describe it.
Politely I thanked him, handed him the sandwich which he happily ate.
As I was heading back to the tent, he said to me "don't forget to stop by the kangaroo station". I responded with a "ha ha"!

Once inside the tent, I saw many food stalls. One had wild boar sausages, one had deer meet sausages...
Low and behold there was KIPPY, the poor Kanga.
Roo was most likely in my previous wrap.
I found myself hopping back to my table, with empty hands and stunned-rounded eyes, mostly in disbelief that I tasted POOR KIPPY and wondering how does KIPPY fit into my poor KOSHER map! Should I ask my Rabbi? Should I email him my question?
My friend, on the other hand, happily sported his cynical smile!

Does Kippy have hooves? (Kosherly speaking, of course)

A day at an Alpaca Ranch...

On Saturday afternoon, my relatives and I headed to my cousin`s alpaca ranch not far from a gold mining town in Julian. Upon arrival to this 14 acre property, you are greeted by close to 47 alpacas, Tika the Anatolian Shepperd which can also double as a pony with TEETH, four chickens, two moody cats named Ginger and Cotton tail and the friendly neighborhood coyotes. Thank God they were chilling in the mountains until the stars came out.

Walking through the ranch, you can't help but notice how relaxed you quickly feel. Tall trees, the scent of nature, the silence of city life, the gentle sounds of nature, the fluffy alpacas roaming in their gated space while eating hay and rolling on the ground enlighten your senses.

My sons decide to climb into the female alpaca zone and are greeted by Vanessa the friendly one of the bunch. Rub her on her neck and belly, and you will soon experience a hug from the furry creature. Human and alpaca necks entwine and all seems right with the world.

We were blessed with a feast to make our ancestors, homo-erectus, proud! All sorts of beef treats on the grill, ribs, tenderloin and delicious baked potatoes on steroids with farmer's butter and finely diced chives to please the senses.

Having a full fledged adolescent in my world, my son managed to convince my cousin to show him how alpacas breed and so with an audience around the stud, my cousin lassoed Daisy the female alpaca and delivered her to do the deed!!! A sight indeed!
It made National Geographic TV channel seem like child`s play. To some extent it appeared a violent act. Five minutes into it, we began to walk away while teasing my poor cousin with "is this what YOU do all day long?"

Once the first star came out, the kids went on a bumpy tractor ride to scout the ranch. My youngest son was happy to be bringing home a sample of coyote spinal bone in a Ziploc bag. Show and tell on the first day of school will sure help him stand out amongst his peers.

As we began to make our way home, one last look at the sky and you are showered by a slew of bright stars! The kids and I were overjoyed with the experience of it all.