trippy

I just booked a whirlwind journey just because.

I'm off to Winnipeg, Manitoba where I'll rent a car and drive to the beautiful small town of Morden, to see an old friend of mine who helps organize a music festival there. She's going to Vietnam for a year to teach English and I figured.. why not!

From Morden, and back to Winnipeg I'll fly to Toronto where I'll work for 2 weeks to train a lovely girl to fill in for me while I'm away on holiday. When in Toronto, I get to stay right downtown on Spadina and Front. Maybe htis time, I'll get to see a bit of the city. Maybe my sister can come and visit from Ottawa. Maybe I can fly to Chicago for the weekend? Ooh there's an idea.

From Toronto, I'm flying to Calgary to spend some time in Alberta. My grandmother is turning 89 and there's a bit of a family reunion. Maybe I'll go to Edmonton and catch up with some old friends.

I fly out of Calgary for ...New Orleans.. one of my favorite cities in the US. It was pricey. Almost like going to Havana. Initially, the idea was to rent a car and drive around the swamps and small towns/ plantations.. but that was really pricey. I was looking at sleeping in the car under an old oak tree. Um. no. Just my luck and I'd park on the bad side of town on the wrong side of the street. So,  instead, I'll ride the streetcar named Desire and take a lot of photos of weeping willows, lone trumpet players and wrought iron balconies. Something I didn't do the 1st time I was there. I will eat the beignets again and the incredible chicory coffee from Cafe Du Monde and I'll make a penance at Marie La Veau's tomb.

I think I'll go back to Preservation Hall as well.

I will rent a car though.. for a day or so, so I can transport myself the 4 hrs west to Port Arthur, Texas- birthplace and childhood home of Janis Joplin. Sadly, when I was there before I took NO PHOTOS. It's too bad.. it's kind of a kooky dump.. but I'm kind of nuts about Janis Joplin. Don't ask why, not even I know why. There's some pretty weird swamp areas around there.. maybe I'll see an Alligator. Maybe I'll see some oil wash up on the shores. Maybe I'll have a life changing event.

And then I'll fly home to Vancouver and have a bit of a time off.

Maybe I'll go camping.

the 9 o'clock phenomenon

Every night where ever you are in Vancouver, you'll hear a "boom" and when you do you can rest assured it's 9 o'clock. The 9 pm cannon fires like clock work as it has for 107 years. For the 10 years I've lived in Vancouver, I've never seen it in person until last night when Michael and I were wondering what to do.. so we went to see it.. and you can hear/ see it too. Listen carefully for the echo when the sound hits the buildings across the Burrard Inlet.

blooms of the cherry variety

sunny Scottsdale

I've been ensconsed at the Valley Ho Hotel since Tuesday..As you can see from the photos, it's not a bad place to be trapped. It's an oasis of retro cool. A flashback to the rat pack around the corner. You expect to see Dean Martin holding court at the hotel bar. It's been alot of fun. I even extended my stay one day. Tomorrow I'll leave this island in search of something.. hotpefully out of the sun.

A friend snapped this picture of my picture show.

Hi Mom..

You're gorgeous. Thanks for the good genes.

Thanks for being my mother when I needed one instead of my friend. Thanks for being my friend when I could get on without a mother.

Thanks for pursuing your goals and setting a good example.

Thanks for your kindness, generosity of spirit and love.

Thanks for teaching me how to cook, sew and do my own laundry.

Thanks for teaching me how to be good with money and save for a rainy day.

Thanks for taking me on trips and teaching me the value of travel.

And most of all...thanks for it all being utterly and endlessly unconditional.

Oh.. and thanks for naming me Jill.

Love,
Me.

PS. I can't believe you wore a tiara either.What was with the horned rimmed glasses?

artist's statement

Havana is a poem unwritten. Melodies belch from the old Chevy and Buicks. Children yell songs in the streets and nearby the horses hooves tap out a somber beat. The men whistle and hiss to the tune while the Hemingway lookalike's sitting at the sleepy bars, keep time jostling their pocket coins to the fans beating the air. All of it under the dark pages of the night, barely recognizable if not for a few flickering lights.

From the moment I'd heard of the strange island country embargoed from the rest of the world, I'd wanted to go. The soupy mysteries of Che, Castro and the Mafia and the famous Hemingway legacy. The country is a sleepy time capsule; dusty and ornate, majestic and crumbling- the limestone doesn't stand up well to the salty time. Jose Marti once said, "Charm is the product of the unexpected." I don't know if he was referring to Cuba or not, but it's the best way to describe what you'll find when you go.

I am a self taught photographer.