In the last 10 years or so, it’s been thrilling to see public art programs gain traction across so many cities. Why have a boring wall when you can have a colorful one? And Montreal lived up to the hype! The black and white is particularly special.
All of these were in the Plateau neighborhood, most around Boulevard Saint Laurent and Little Portugal.
Building on my trip to the forest the next day I continued the nature bathing at Montmorency Falls (aka Chutes de Montmorency) located on the eastern edge of Quebec City. This trip fell just before autumn colors, but I got a small glimpse of the season to come.
Fun fact about me: If there is a funicular, gondola, or aerial tram in the area — any ride that goes high up and has a view, even a ski lift will do — I am on it. And this trip had 3 of them!
In addition to a gondola, the falls also offered a bonus suspension bridge. As I leaned over the railing to get a better look at the falls below, I had flashbacks of my scared-of-heights mother freaking out when we climbed up on guardrails at the Grand Canyon. For those who don’t enjoy flying in glass boxes or just want a challenge, there are some rather intimidating stairs available.
Once I crossed the suspension bridge I found myself near the edge of the park, and realized I wasn’t far from a bus stop that would take me back to Vieux Québec. I almost always focus on the destination more than the journey, but in this case I’m glad I took the slow route. Buses travel where people live, winding through neighborhoods that tourists usually don’t see. In this case, Beauport Quartier 5-4 and its picturesque houses that my architecture vocabulary is not sufficient to describe. My Google-fu is letting me down on that front as well. If I ever figure out more about these houses I’ll let you know!
It took me almost 20 years from the time I bought a travel book for Québec — so long ago guidebooks were still relevant — to setting foot in the province. But I made it! And while I’m not the most unconventional traveler I do seek experiences that are less tourist-y and, ideally, something you could only do in that place. In Québec City, that experience was Onhwa’ Lumina in Wendake, home of the Huron-Wendat people.
I grew up in Arizona, surrounded by the history and artistry of the Tohono O’odham, Hopi, and Navajo people (among others) as well as their reservations. So learning that Québec has a First Nations reserve just outside downtown was a unique opportunity that could not be missed!
Onhwa’ Lumina is a forest night walk through a series of illuminated stories that celebrate Huron-Wendat heritage. I started out in a crowd, and lagged behind in the early stations so that I could shed the group and have the forest to myself. That had the side benefit of slowing my mind down, seeing past the spectacle and being more fully present. It was a poetic and beautiful experience.
This kind of multimedia site installation is quite difficult to do well and this was even better than expected. Tellement fantastique! After some tiring days, being immersed in the forest and storytelling was exactly what I needed to reset.
This clip is one of the most elaborate pieces, the creation of Turtle Island. In the legend, a sick A’taentsik falls from the Sky World and is saved from falling into the Water World by birds. She lands on the back of the Great Turtle, who calls the Animal Council to help heal her by bringing up earth from around the roots of a submerged tree. The Beaver, Otter, and Muskrat try but fail, and finally a grandmother Toad succeeds and with her last breath deposits earth on the turtle’s back. This forms the foundation of the continent known as Wendat, and life flourishes. This visualization plays out on a rocky hillside, using the terrain as a canvas for the story.
Before nightfall, I had time to explore a nature park along the lovely Saint-Charles River including the waterfall known as Kubir Kouba. This is where two geologic regions meet — the St Lawrence Lowlands and the Canadian Shield. And after that, dinner of a delicious bison short rib at the indigenous restaurant Sagamité.
This was a fantastic evening, one I will always remember.
To be honest, Las Vegas isn’t my kind of town. I’m not much into gambling, shopping, spas, or shows…and that leaves pretty much just food. Oh, and one of my oldest and best friends, who is the reason I occasionally visit this gaudy, ridiculously hot town.
One thing Vegas does have that speaks to my design soul is neon. And the best place to see vintage goodness is at the Neon Boneyard, a dusty outdoor refuge for signs sacrificed to continuous reinvention. Here you not only see the gorgeous colors, typography, and artistry of the signs themselves but also the accidental, layered compositions created by stacking them in. Since my last trip, they’ve restored enough to have nighttime tours which is very cool (as well as cooler, literally).
Whoo! Back from a 1840 mile, 12 day solo driving trip home to Tucson. What a bittersweet trip, one of tears and mortality and also of life-affirming friendship and beauty and nature. The universe really came together on this one — my friend needed me, work didn’t, and being there is what I needed.
The sweet: Nowhere do I feel more calm and grounded than the Sonoran desert. It was unusually green and lush from the record monsoon season, and the desert welcomed me with beautiful sunsets and torrential rain and cooler temps. This desert speaks to my soul and being in it was a much needed balm. From the moment the terrain changed to a haze of striated, sharp mountains I knew I was in exactly the right place. This trip also coincided with a school reunion so a little extension made it possible to see old friends and celebrate still being here. And I bought some absolutely amazing art that will forever remind me of this trip and place.
The bitter? Well, first, this wasn’t a pleasure cruise. I was there to help a friend recovering from a distressing medical situation. (But spending time with her definitely goes in the sweet column!) There aren’t a lot of reasons I’d drive that far, but that’s one of them. Second, for years I talked about bringing my ex here, sharing my home with him and seeing it anew through his nature-loving eyes. We planned to hike here this winter. As I drove out through Gates Pass on the way to the Desert Museum and Saguaro National Park, tears flowed. I wanted so much to share these special places with him. He’d love it. There were a lot of miles alone with few distractions and I kept hitting pockets of grief. Third, I-5 is as unpleasant as I-10 is beautiful.
Soon I start a new job and I’m grateful to have had this time to connect with people and places that mean the world to me.
On my recent trip to Taiwan and Tokyo, the cute factor was inescapable. Buildings, restaurants, museums, you name it. Everything has a mascot. Everything has an animated character. And the queen herself, Hello Kitty, continues to reign supreme.
But of course Hello Kitty is more than a mere character. She’s a phenomenon and even a way of life, and has been for 40 years. Even guys can be spotted with HK gear. (Full disclosure: I still have the plush Hello Kitty I got in the 4th grade.)
Our trip coincided with the debut of the new EVA Air Hello Kitty route to Houston. The subway and street ads feature Kitty as an astronaut, which makes sense. Why she carries a basketball, I couldn’t say. Maybe the Taiwanese are crazy about the Houston Rockets?
These themed routes have special planes decked out in Hello Kitty from tip to tail. It has to be seen to be believed. The depth and detail is truly astonishing — in addition to the plane wraps, there are more than 100 Hello Kitty branded items inside the plane, from the lavatory soap to the food to the toilet paper. EVA Air has even redesigned its airport counters and kiosks to promote the collaboration. It’s like a a giant Sanrio store.
I can’t even wrap my head around the amount of work and money this must have taken to build out. The licensing and contracts alone, much less the design, printing, and manufacturing costs to duplicate everything on a plane… amazing. They report it’s expensive, but profitable.
That is what you call brand equity.
This summer is off to a unexpected start!
I’ve been advising a good friend and colleague, Michael, on a new business he’s starting. It’s based here in Oakland but with an office in Taipei. He asked if I would go with him on his next trip, which was only a few weeks away, and I jumped at it. I’ve been looking for ways to shake things up in my work and life anyway. Why not see what a couple of weeks in Asia kicks loose? It would also give me an opportunity to piggyback a few days to see family in Tokyo.
The company is confidential, so I can’t say much about that. And I couldn’t possibly cover everything we did and saw in Taiwan. But I can tell you about pandas and gondolas and marble gorges:
Puppets!
Michael was over the National Museum after several visits, so our first day there we powered through jet lag and heat exhaustion to go to the Puppetry Arts Center instead. It’s a fantastic little museum packed with inventive, delightful, and even creepy puppets of all kinds. And on the way we visited the beautiful Xingtian temple. It was an inspiring start to our adventure.
Gondolas and pandas
After a business meeting downtown later that week we hustled out to the Maokong Gondolas, only to be foiled by a thunderstorm. It was, frankly, a rough day. Let’s just say mistakes were made and neither nature nor transit were on our side. But serendipity graced us, leading to the famed panda born at the Taiwan Zoo. (Which we could see without waiting since it was 100 degrees and raining. Yay?) And we did eventually get to take our gondola ride at sunset later that day. It was worth the wait — gorgeous and serene. Except for those screeching monkeys after dark.
Taipei 101
Something I love doing in big cities is taking in the cityscape. In Taipei, you do this from the observatory at the Taipei 101, one of the tallest buildings in the world. The city is simply huge! It stretches in all directions up to the edges of mountains and rivers. Taipei is a little dreary at ground level, but from above it’s stunning. After the sunset faded we capped our evening with dumplings at Din Tai Fung. Beyond delicious. I’m still drooling over that meal.
Taroko and Sun Moon Lake
We left the city for a few days and saw a prettier side of Taiwan. We started by driving down the eastern coast to Hualien, where we found a great night market and the “coffin bread” I’d been hunting for. The next day we drove across Taroko National Park, starting at sea level and making our way up to the peak at 10,000 feet – where the cool air was a welcome break from the oppressive heat – and wound our way back down and over to Sun Moon Lake in the center of the island. Taroko Gorge is made of marble! Beautiful scenery. Crazy, white-knuckle driving conditions. Michael is a brave man.
Cute overload
My inner 9-year-old was giddy over the omnipresent Hello Kitty. (And my inner brand manager was agog at the volume of licensing deals.) She is everywhere, all the time. As were a million other mascots and characters; clearly the culture of cute rules here. Even the Taipei 101 has a mascot, the “damper baby”, a character based on its spherical wind damper. And Din Tai Fung has a dumpling mascot. Seriously. More on this to come.
I have always found the desert Southwest immensely calming. I assumed it was simply the comfortable feeling of being back in my childhood home — it never felt right when I lived in states without mountains — but on my last trip it occurred to me it could be the desert itself.
There is a reassuring constancy to the endless expanse of sand, with its soothing, monochromatic palette. The sheer scale of the desert slows down time — it can take hours to approach and pass a mountain. Plant growth can be imperceptible year over year. The weather doesn’t change for months on end. Here, past and future blend together in an unchanging, infinite time stream. And, the desert thrives in the most unlikely ways; its inhabitants are a testament to the ingenuity and persistence of life itself. Creativity abounds, hidden in the minute details of a seemingly barren landscape.
The desert endures, and I find hope and comfort in it.
After two years of ambiguity and stretching and perseverance, I have officially earned the designation of Master of Business Administration! That seems like a silly title; administering business is just about the last of my aspirations.
It would be nice if I could enjoy a little more R&R, but finding work has to be my first priority. Plus, I am excited about the prospect of a new job. I’ve worked at home for a long time and while it will be challenging to give up those advantages, they are outweighed by my desire for the collaboration and learning of a team environment. (Remind me of that when I have to get up 3 hours earlier than I am used to, okay? Thanks.) I’ve learned and connected so many ideas in the past 2 years that now I am eager to put it all into action.
I was able to take a couple of days off to head down the coast to the famed Hearst Castle. It was nice to be off the grid (no cell service in Cambria) and spend time with my Mom, who hasn’t seen a whole lot of me for the past two years. Unfortunately there was unexpected cold rain, obscuring the views and leaving us shivering and impatient to get inside. This was especially disappointing since the exterior architecture and beautiful gardens were highlights for me — perhaps because they offered a respite from Gothic and Renaissance overload inside.
What is it about decay that’s so interesting on film?
Just returned from the Windy City — and windy it was! On this trip I went on the architecture river cruise and I spent most of my time trying to capture the undersides of rusting bridges as we sailed underneath them. The accidental compositions are incredible, and the rust adds an interesting touch. They’re being painted right now, so I’m glad I had an opportunity to capture them this way.
When I was in college I had to drive across farmland in Indiana and Ohio on my way to Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving. As I passed countless decrepit, abandoned barns I thought it would make an amazing B/W series to capture the crossed lines of broken boards and the sunlight as it filters through the holes and gaps.
