• Normal 

  Created in 24hrs for the Calgary 24hr Film Race 2010. http://filmracing.com

  Team Dink Pajama Party

  Theme: Obsessed
  Surprise Element: Looking out a Window

  Winner of:

  Best Film
  Audience Favourite
  Best Direction
  Best Female Actor
  Best Ensemble Cast
  Best Cinematography
  Best Writing
  Best Editing
  Best Set Design
  Best Makeup

  Cast:
  Wil Knoll - Doctor
  Rachel Gertz - Saran Fetishist
  Travis Gertz - DP Lover
  Karissa Freund - Film-shy

  Directed/Filmed/Edited by Travis Gertz

  Music by Rachel Gertz

  Written by Everyone

  Posted on July 30, 2010

  Comments

• Great Fail, MT

  

  This is the last written post of our trip. And thank you for making me aware that we’ve been home for almost a month now. Whatever.

  It is written.

  In a delirious bid to get back in time for my mommy’s graduation,* we swung through Big Sky Montana. Don’t laugh but I had to watch A River Runs Through It (filmed in Missoula) to try to capture that big open wilderness feeling again. Calgary makes you forget things. Anyway, we drove up through Bozeman and on to Billings. Nothing eventful happened there except that a teen yelled at me from the Walmart parking lot: “I want to have your babies.” I declined.

  Travis and I cooked steak in a frying pan and hunkered down for our last night of sleeping in a Walmart parking lot. I vowed this, you guys. I must NEVERNEVERNEVER sleep in another Walmart parking lot again. And if I do, you can completely slap me silly while yelling, “Whhyyyy?”

  So then there was Great Falls. We had already driven 22 000 miles for eight months, so it seemed like a good time to stop. Another important lesson learned. Never sleep in another Walmart parking lot, and NEVER stop in Great Falls Montana. 

  Great Falls is like if Calgary got all hepped up on snorting gasoline and injecting steroids, and then ripped its camouflage shirt open with a banshee yell while riding an ATV. It’s crass. It really is. But here we were. So make the best of it, right?

  We heard there was an outlet mall with a Victoria Secret (I had a couple requests from fellow Calgarian friends), but this was really an exaggeration. There were three stores and the lights kept flickering. It felt like the entire city was declaring its lack of excitement.

  I have to confess, last year my friend Karissa and I drove all the way through Great Falls to Missoula to shop and get drunk, and all I remembered about Great Falls was the billboards touting urgent warnings to stay off crystal meth. Some of them were even homemade. Anti-drug banners painted with giant lime green skulls on black that warn, “Meth. Your first time is your last.” Needless to say, that frightened the pants of us because we were sure that meth-crazed, scabby-faced addicts would jump out of the alleys to rob us of our drinking money. I shared my fears with Travis as we pulled into that degraded shopping mall, and instantly he began laughing at me. Said he had to do some research, but was pretty sure I was full of shit. Well, who’s full of poop now, Mr. Gertz? Read about the Montana Meth Project. The fact that the population of Montana is only 975 000 (and so the likelihood of having more than three drug users in Great Falls is slim), isn’t important. What’s important is people like meth a lot in Montana, and we were in Montana. Stick to the facts.

  That whole meth thing kind of had me tweaking my need for sleep in the Walmart lot. But I’m pretty sure Trav slept like a baby, unaware of the skulking lowlifes that surely plagued Walter’s hindquarters looking for scrap metal to pawn. I may or may not be speculating. 

  …

  A couple funny things happened while we were in Great Falls, Nothing ground moving, but you know, Trav has had his masculinity challenged three times (maybe six) while on this trip. So this had to be brought up…

  Travis, being a gentleman, offered to carry my neutral looking orange laptop bag. No more than 30 seconds into our walk, he had three things happen: 

  1. A man whistled in our direction. Specifically he whistled at Travis.
  2. Another man with an uneven grin revved his giant truck engine while we gingerly walked past. That one was definitely for Trav.
  3. A man hollered out the window of his big truck, “Nice purse!” Again, talking to Travis. My my, mister Popularity.

  Really, it should be Travis writing this post. He got more action out of Great Falls than anyone has in like thirty years. I’m glad Great Falls is comfortable with its sexuality.

  Travis even had the supreme opportunity to drink beer that smelled of shit. Actual ‘human feces’ smelling beer. It was the house special at a little steakhouse we ducked into. What was that one called, Trav? A Lager (get it? like a log?)? Nevermind.

  After wearing out our welcome thoroughly, we revved our own engine and began the five hour journey back to little cowtown Calgary. The funniest part of that highway trip was the torrent of Audie TTs that zoomed past us. The first was a bright green, with a luxury plate that said ‘MNSTRTT.’ Didn’t catch if those were Montana plates. Next came a yellow one with cheesy decals. Then another black Audie TT. This time: ‘NEGOT8R’ flashed on the plate. Even worse? The Audi had an asshole driver and a bumper sticker that said, ‘I <3 Beaver’. Our curiosity peaked, we glowered at the plate to see if we could detect its origin. And not that you’ll be surprised, but only because it seems like an important detail…

  The plates were from Alberta.

  Ahh, it’s good to be back.

  *She went back to school in her forties and took the 13 courses she needed to upgrade from a nursing diploma in ‘73 to her Bachelor of Nursing. I am so proud of her, my eyes get all garden hose on me just thinking about it. 

  Tagged: Rachel

  Posted on July 12, 2010 with 2 notes

  Comments
• Plays: 67
  [Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

  My interview with Mike Blanchard on CHQR 770 AM regarding tasteless condo ads in Calgary.

  

  Posted on July 6, 2010

  Comments

• Rushmore. Leave Soon.

  
  Eery shot of Mount Rushmore Lighting Up at Night

  We swivelled like a dust vacuum through quite a few places during those last weeks of Walter. Stopped to see Chicago for an afternoon, Sioux Falls, Mount Rushmore, Bozeman, Billings, and Great Falls. Of these locations, I can only suck out the marrow of two: Mt. Rushmore and Great Falls. This isn’t because these were the most notorious, or because they reeked of culture, but because we had to shed light on two strange sights most people visit and do not question.

  Mount Rushmore.

  The more I think of this one, the more I shudder. In a time when it makes more sense to photograph a president, then forget about him, here sit four white, male political figures immortalized in South Dakota stone.

  This mighty stone monster is perched in the middle of the Black Hills of South Dakota. Lush forest and rocks like melted ice cream make SD a real wonder to behold. But South Dakota had a heck of a time getting people to come out to those black rocks at the turn of the 20th century. So along comes Gutzon Borglum in 1927; an architect who wanted to draw people into the heart of the hills to increase tourism. Full of gusto and controversy, he saw a 150 year span of austere presidential chins staring down at him and knew he had to make this vision a reality.

  Borglum chose the presidents based upon their track record of expanding US territory and ‘preserving the Republic.’ A little gem called Manifest Destiny (or basically the romantic notion that the US was destined to expand across the continent. God said so) gave Borglum some clear choices. He chose two Republicans, one Democrat, and George Washington (a libertarian, some might call him) as the mixed nuts.  A strange mix if you ask me…

  $900 000 and a dead architect later, you’ve got these guys plastering eternity:

  George Washington 
  The Father of Confederation (Washington). He was the first president of the US and expanded the colonies west (Vermont, Kentucky, and Tennessee).  He incidentally believed that political partisanship would be the downfall of the country, and so could neither be called a Democrat nor Republican as we understand them. It was he who created the first national bank, and he, the Grand Master of the Freemasons. How fascinating. Washington’s teeth fell out at an early age and he had falsies made out of hippo ivory (not wood). The key to Washington’s tomb is still rusting in the Potomac river somewhere.

  Thomas Jefferson
  Third US president. A bookworm with a lisp that limited his public addresses, Jefferson harped a great deal about innate civil liberties. Apparently these liberties didn’t extend to people of colour, though. He owned 500 slaves and also signed the Indian Removal Act, illustrating that he wasn’t all too fond of people that didn’t look or act like he did. Apparently he was ambivalent about slavery… Hmm. Believing in as little federal regulation as possible, he and Arizona’s Jan Brewer would have gotten along swimmingly in our life and times. Except he didn’t think women should be in politics either. Jefferson’s purchase of Louisiana doubled the size of the US. He died penniless, and was ranked as one of the US’s greatest presidents. Don’t ask me why.

  Abraham Lincoln 
  The sixteenth president, Lincoln was the first to be assassinated. I kinda feel bad for this guy! While watching a play, a shot to the back of the head lodged a lead ball 6 inches into his brain. He died nine hours later. Lincoln’s first love died of typhoid. His four sons all died before reaching adulthood. Then his wife was committed to an asylum for bipolar disorder after his death. During his influential reign, he was a charismatic lawyer and leader. His Republican politics won the north over and he abolished slavery in 1863. However blacks, Indians and any other people of colour continued to suffer abhorrent discrimination. Although Lincoln was opposed to slavery, his wife Mary owned both dowry slaves and indentured servants that were passed on to their offspring. Yay, civil liberties! Borglum liked him because he preserved the Union.

  Theodore Roosevelt
  Teddy (but don’t ever call him Teddy) was a spitfire man, and a president touting unbelievable tales. Known for his cowboy image, Theo spawned the Progressive party, won a Nobel Peace prize, wrote books, and was a police commissionare in New York for two years. If that wasn’t enough, he became the inspiration behind ‘teddy bears’ and donated large game animals from his African safari to national museums. Tidbit: Roosevelt also experienced an assassination attempt: his metal glasses case and a 50 page speech prevented the bullet from piercing his lung (he gave a 90 minute speech while the blood seeped through his shirt).  Although he had asthma, Theo boxed, safaried, contracted malaria, and fought police corruption. Theo had a darker side to him. He furiously supported the eugenics movement (sterilizing criminals and the disabled) and he figured that since the black man could “neither be killed nor driven away, the only wise and honorable and Christian thing to do is to treat each black man and each white man strictly on his merits as a man, giving him no more and no less that he shows himself worthy to have”. Theo also ranked as one of US’s greatest presidents.

  Your merits truly shine, Teddy. Thanks for that virtue of tolerance.

  What?? You think I’m only relating the bad stuff? The point of this whole post is to maintain your interest. So I’m not going to talk about boring stuff like the Louisiana Purchase. Got it? My ears bled vigorously from the loudspeaker propaganda the night Trav and I wandered up to the memorial. Not kidding, short of bombs going off, the fanfare was overwhelming. I’m committed to showing the presidential ‘other side.’ So if you ever visit, you’ll at least have a balanced perspective. 

  Anyway, after driving Walter through the gates at around 7pm, we paid our $10 parking fee (because only the privileged get to experience national history). We were told Rushmore would light up at 9pm, complete with Girl Scouts and Ranger Dave speech. How could we miss it?

  We passed the next two hours taking photos and listening to a weird man in a leather jacket explain how he’d been there last night and had hiked a vertical hike and it was very impressive because it so vertical. Trav and I munched a disgusting popcorn ball and waited and waited. 

  Then the jubilations began. Mr. Park Ranger delivered a touching (see wet with patriotism) speech. He talked about how we all needed to unite with each other, and that Rushmore was a symbol of progress and equality. He even mentioned that all races and creeds of folks are cool cats even, “[those] of us who, because of our freedoms as Americans, are of no religious faith at all” —he kind of stumbled mumbled that part. The four presidents above nodded their heads in agreement. Hmm, that wasn’t in the brochure. 

  The lights went low and the national anthem rang out. People of all backgrounds began singing, hands over hearts. Then, of course, people pledged their allegiance to the flag (the ‘one nation under God’ part was actually added in the ’50s). Even tourists from overseas trilled their allegiance in battered English, while tears streamed down their faces. How touching. 

  The whole experience left us bewildered. The heads began to take on a demonic, shadowy countenance before our very eyes.

  We quietly stifled our anti-nationalism and took it all in like champs. It’s okay if you think your country is the best, but thinking that just makes you brittle and wrong and can wind you up in some really scalding hot water. I repeat: you really shouldn’t think your country is the best. It hurts other countries’ feelings.

  So as the awe dripped over the crowd and we viewed a patriotically charged film filled with soaring bald eagles, waving flags, and our forefathers’ concepts of progress, Travis and I looked at each other deeply, grasped hands… and left Mount Rushmore.

  Mr. Park Ranger: we have a couple suggestions for things you really should cover in your speech next time… (I did some research)

  • Gutzon Borglum was not only a brilliant architect, he was also a card-carrying member of the KuKluxKlan (see for yourself). You should have probably shared that with the visible minorities. Borglum tried to downplay that little tidbit. He also happened to have a step-mother who was his aunt (his dad belonged to a polygamist group in Idaho) and had quite a temper. 

  • The presidents chosen were all old, white males. I’d like to see Obama up there. Or perhaps a future female president. Apparently, the Rushmore project ran out of money or artists would have finished those men chin to waist. They say there’s no room for more faces up there. But I think those four are just being nasty. 

  • The Black Hills land where Rushmore squats, legally belongs to the Lakota Indians. It was ‘commandeered’ after a treaty in the 1800s was violated by gold prospectors and settlers. Folks of the 19th and 20th centuries believed in manifest destiny. They were convinced that American Indians were ”destined to melt and vanish before the advancing waves of Anglo-American power, which now rolled westward unchecked and unopposed.” Philip Fisher (1985). Wow. Just wow.

  • Indians in the area (not of the country India, but the designation they were given by North Americans) are currently constructing their own statue called Crazy Horse. Sadly, funding has dried up, and only the beginning of the face can be deciphered. The statue is symbolic of the rights of the people; and it’s incomplete state is a symbol of the turbulence between local natives and the lovely current inhabitants who would like to move past that ‘unfortunate time’.

  • Rushmore is a tourist trap. Well, maybe not the rock itself. But the surrounding goofy attractions are. Watch out for helicopter rides, mini golf, wave pools, wild safari parks, and Rushmore gift shops that will bleed you dry. 

  So that’s that.

  You can read more about the history of Mount Rushmore if you want to (watch for the baby grabbing his genitals as he sits atop his father’s shoulders). But I personally recommend that if you want to see Rushmore, see this one instead.

  Tagged: Rachel

  Posted on July 1, 2010

  Comments

• Warm-Up to Finale

  You thought we were done? Sheesh, we go quiet for a week to ‘domesticate’ and suddenly people think we’re all done with  adventure and the like. Absolutely not. And if you ever call it ‘domesticating’ again, we’ll beat you.

  We’ve spent the last week and a half constructing some sort of semblance of sentient life in Calgary. Walter is still parked out front. We gave him a bath. Eighty-four bucks and two hours of elbow grease later, he’s still a bit streaky, but at least he doesn’t blend in with some of the rusted out vehicles wedged along this fascinating street like he did before. First bath while on the road with us —we had to wash the blue chemical shampoo off our arms before it made us itchy.

  So here we are. I am sitting on the couch on a Tuesday morning like a normal person. Our house doesn’t move every day, and the joy of not sleeping in Walmart parking lots is delicious. It’s almost as if this epic journey was a drug-induced dream. Let me tell ya, I plan to renew my prescription.

  Not that we don’t like Calgary. I mean we don’t, but it is our temporary home. I feel we’re justified in our passive aggressive retort since that’s how Calgary functions anyhow. We’re planning on doing some things this summer to boost our morale. And hoping our friends can help us through our Calgary blues.

  PechaKucha: a 6 minute speech about anything under the sun. Held downtown during the Stampede in front of thousands of people. This year’s theme? The West. 

  Lawnbowling: yes, we’re on a team. And no, we haven’t a team name yet, because Calgary has experienced more rain than a wet dog shaking and it’s been canceled two weeks in a row. There’s actually major flooding going on in Southern Alberta. Welcome home, kids.

  Boot Camp: Trav and I are going to pick a bootcamp to get reach our peak performance. Not a physical exercise one. We did that last year and we both almost threw up from the sheer intensity. Trav wants to go to Type Camp, and I’m going to show up a scared mouse at a Writers Bootcamp. If I can find one. That oughta encourage some juices to flow creatively down our chins.

  Exercise: Toying with the idea of P90X, but honestly, anything that gets us off our asses will do. Mike, we’re only hesitating because we lack the room, so not a word!

  Liquor: oh, you already know how that one works. That’s to counter our exercise regime.

  Anyway, we’re not done with Where’s Walter yet. We have a couple more adventures to relay; then we have to have a finale. Like compile-eight-months-worth-of-video-footage-and-sit-down-with-some-popcorn finale. It’ll remind us of all the crazy, outlandish things we did just for fun. That way we’ll never forget what we’re put here on earth to do: crazy, outlandish things that are fun. 

  Tagged: Rachel

  Posted on June 22, 2010

  Comments

• Indy Inspires: Calgary Awaits

  Day 232

  Writing this after three hours of driving today, three yesterday, six hours the day before, six before that, four a lifetime ago. The brain has a bit of tunnel vision. Apologies.

  A little over a week ago, Torrey showed us Indianapolis in all its unfettered glory. He also inspired us to try to build a stronger creative community in Calgary. A generous thank you to our un-lemming leader!

  It all started when we met him at SXSW. If you’ll recall, Torrey was the one allowing Travis to draw a giant Unicat on his neck. He kept insisting that we come and visit him in Indy, so we made good on that request. And we’re pretty thrilled with the outcome. 

  Indy, for those of you new to its raw artistic and cultural charm, houses the Indy 500. Indy has alluring creative work spaces. Indy likes to play. It has a creative community worth its weight in gold.

  Indy got us thinking. 

  Right away, we noticed the painted crosswalks, the cultural trail created from old railway lines, and the finest cuisine you can shake a stick at (what does that expression even mean?). Torrey dined us at two notable places: Chatham Tap Restaurant and Pub, and Brugge, a classy little micro brewery that incidentally serves the best Belgian style mussels and cheeses you’ll have the luxury of dropping on your taste buds. 

  Then Torrey presented his studio to us. Holy helluva space! Stunning projects smiled at us and creative juice dripped out of the neatest studio crevices. It was like witnessing Kool-Aid Man jump through the wall and yell, “OHH YEA.” Now that’s design inspiration! 

  So, Trav and I have a bad habit of taking design notes across the country and then plotting devious ways to transplant them into something meaningful back home. The ideas have been percolating, and after visiting Indy, they’re spilling over. Now why on earth would we want to lick and stick changes to our little homegrown city? Because Calgary, Alberta, Canada is an oil town. It has the personality of a white bread sandwich. In fact, Calgary is the reason (the biggest one) that we decided to leave. Our dear friends and family made it tricky. But Calgary itself kicked us on the way out with a snow storm in October. PS, if you’ve never wikapedia-ed your city, do it. The ‘objective’ ramblings you read about your city’s tourist attractions and industry may be surprising.

  Not to spew forth another rant, but here’s another rant. Calgary pits itself against its own citizens, passing itself off as a refined specimen, when really it’s a rude and red-collar (i.e. redneck and white collar mix) checkers match. The average Calgarian has a lawn tractor, drinks Canadian (beer), and works at BP. Yup, it’s true. The Kool-Aid Man does not roundhouse kick the walls of Calgary, if I may be so bold. 

  The whole mash-up of white sunglasses, terrible customer service, and the Stampede also leaves us feeling a little underwhelmed.

  And there’s more. Calgary has a mightier-than-thou complex which gets to be redundant when you’ve lived there as long as we have. I think the whole “best place to live” vote in 2007 went to its head. In actual fact, Calgary has a number of things making it bleed out from the knees: 

  • Urban sprawl 
  • Unsupported growing population
  • Overpriced real estate
  • The popularity of the Oil sands 

  And….

  A fractured creative community. This death gauntlet of Calgary kills so many unique attempts at creating a force to be reckoned with. It’s not just us thinking the worst. Others are seeing this, too.

  —But Torrey, don’t worry. It’s still awesome and you should still come to visit!

  Anyway, before you think we’re assholes and have retained zero loyalty to Calgary, read this: 

  A. We’re coming back. For six months. To umm, test the waters. 

  B. We know Calgary has a heart, albeit dipped in oil, but at least its well lubricated and she’s ready to kick it into high gear. Der, that sounded extremely red-collar. Sorry. 

  To explain why it’s not all bad, I have to explain why it is bad. I have to draw you a little diagram of our current creative community: Lots of extremely talented and comical people. Lots of potential venues, lots of creative events even. Except the agencies work their creatives to the bone, the designers are scowling at other designers, the actors are laughing at the dorkestras (aka multiple instrument bands). The hipsters are taking over, and even though deep down, we’re all a little hipster, we seem to hate the proverbial archetype with his thin-tired bicycle and expensive keffiyehs. Then there’s the folks that are completely out of date. They think creativity is something you do in kindergarten that involves gluing popsicle sticks to pipe cleaners. These people are usually dressed in suits and make six figure incomes (yet they support the Epcor Centre for the Arts and Talisman Centre). All this, not to mention the fact that many Calgary locals prefer to watch TV during weeknights, rather than meet up with other locals to support community events. 

  So you can see, Calgary is fragmented. 

  But in case you thought this was going to be a verbal shit-slurp, demonizing the Calgary that Travis and I grew up in, you’re only half right. We have great people. We do. These resilient, innovative, crazy peeps make us want to be a part of Calgary’s core strengthening exercises. They make us want to join volunteer networks and start a creative print making studio and save all the orphans and lost puppies of the world. 

  Or get someone else to…. (Lemmings, all of us)

  We’re home for six months. In that time, we need to affirm that there is still hope for us living in a place that favours the Wildrose Alliance party and will soon be drinking the sludge run-off from the oil sands development. We’ll have to see if we can contentedly share the birthplace of our dear robotic prime minister, Mr. Harper. We’ll have to see if we can outrun the Calgary Death Gauntlet.

  To balance out the soothsaying above, here’s some of the good things going on in Calgary right now. The people behind these initiatives give us hope for a creative, connected Calgary. Thank you!

  • Calgary is Awesome 
  • Calgary Arts Development
  • Barcamp/Democamp 
  • Green Calgary 
  • Creative Calgary 
  • Uppercase 
  • Art Central 
  • Art in Calgary 
  • Calgary Professional Arts Alliance 
  • Calgary Art? There’s now an app for that. 

  On that note, we’re driving our slovenly asses into Calgary tomorrow afternoon and looking forward to meeting up with the people that make Calgary worth going back to. You know who you are. 

  PPS —If we’re wrong about this fracture and you want to whine in protest, we invite our fellow Calgarians to step up and tell us. Prove to us there’s a strong, unified community that is capable of standing on its own two legs in Calgary. We’ll back down if you’re right. 

  If not, let’s do something about it, shall we? 

  
  

  Tagged: Rachel (with Travis' Blessing)

  Posted on June 8, 2010

  Comments

• Four More Days

  

  Day 230

  Four days from home —15 hours of driving in the last two and a half days. 

  I saw the blue Rocky Mountains rise from the hills of Wyoming today, and for the first time, the reality that this trip was ending stung my throat. You see, the Rockies rise all the way up through America and Canada like a blue blade of ice. They’ll snatch away your breath with their unapologetic beauty. The Rockies mean home.

  We miss home. We miss our family. We miss our friends. 

  And still… This trip has been the best damn thing we have ever done with our little lives, and we’ll be sorry when we have to say goodbye to Walter and the endless stretch of black top that has become embedded behind our eyelids. I can’t begin to tell you what a trip like this does to a person. But we’ll try.

  PS— Anyone want to continue the Walter legacy? He’s solid and cleans up nice. Also, we’re sterilizing him, so you wouldn’t know we’d spent the last seven months parasiting inside. Drives like a dream. Make us an offer. 

  Tagged: Rachel

  Posted on June 6, 2010

  Comments

• Ann Arbour

  Day 226

  We owe the beauty of our afternoon in Ann Arbor, Michigan all to Ben Turner. Yes, Ben who needs no introduction, save for this beautiful moment at SXSW. He’s the one swapping a shot of liquor with another man after gargling it. Well played, chap. Well played.

  Ben, you met on a moments notice, dined us at Zingerman’s (only the most fantastic place we have ever eaten) and charmed the pants off of us with tales of how Detroit is like Ann’s thug cousin. It was a jolly afternoon.

  So, it is our sincere wish that you go to Lawrence, Kansas, tell us you’re there, and then invite us to come down so we can ruminate with the Lawrence boys: Jeff, Christian, Alex on the beautiful moments we created in our altered states. And so that we, in our rejuvinated glory, can feast upon new moments and can recall them at future events.

  Basically, we’ll get really drunk together and then talk about how drunk we got when we all meet up to drink at SXSW in 2011. Now just replace ‘drunk’ with ‘confabulate’ and you have yourself a deep experience.

  Thanks Ben!

  Posted on June 2, 2010

  Comments

• Niagara Foam

  Posted on June 2, 2010

  Comments

• Second Best London. Maybe

  Day 226

  London Ontario. It has its umm, —charm. 

  But let’s not talk about the city. Let’s talk people. Awesome ones. We know awesome people residing in London. Hello Mathew and Jen, and hello little Ferris and (toothsome) Pearl. 

  We had a fabulous night with you folks watching the fireworks raining down on us for the Victoria Day (the queen had something to do with this, didn’t she?). It had been way too long since we heard the cataclysmic thunder of major explosives in the night sky.

  I also may have to steal that knock knock joke that Ferris told for a half an hour:

  “Knoc, Knock?”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Cow!”

  “Cow who?”

  “Cow Moo!!!!” And then maniacal laughter. It just never gets old!

  And not that the Indian food needs any introduction, but we had a delectable lunch with you, too. Wished there was more time to chit and chat. But that’s why you come to Calgary. So we can do more fun, crazy things like that and reflect about the good times. 

  It was so great to meet up with you. We talked like we had been chums for years. Do people still use that word, ‘chums’? We like it. 

  And we like you.

  See ya on the flip side (of Canada)

  Tagged: Rachel

  Posted on June 1, 2010

  Comments

• Niagara Balls

  

  Day 225

  Niagara is a commercial whore. She started out as a piece of pristine nature. An overwhelming testament to the raw power of water and rock and the distance between basin and ledge. But lo and behold, in the 1800s European settlers moved in, peed their chemicals on her, and painted her up like a clown. In a mere 300 years of human contact, Niagara has been transformed from a gem to a turd.

  Opportunistic humans and their greedy punch to her solar plexus, are heartily to blame. First these curious humans began a ferry service and then inserted roads, canals, and the Clifton Hotel. Human admiration for the falls turned to spectacle. Dare devils tested Niagara with barrels and tight rope walking, luring crowds and turning the eye from the beauty of the water itself, to the feats of the bold and stupid. In 1846, they even introduced a boat ride for tourists to scope out the falls up close. It’s still running today, and you can check out the timeline if you’re interested.

  Next came the industrial boom of the early 1900s, which continues today. The flow from the Great Lakes, particularly Lake Eerie to Lake Ontario, became a slurry of Industrial waste, raw sewage, and even dead animal carcasses (not to mention “toxic contamination through heavy metals and pesticides, overdevelopment of the water’s edge, runoff from agriculture and urbanization, and air pollution” —TEACH.glin.net). Seems that folks at the time believed in the ‘dilution factor’ which is basically the idea that water has the power to dilute and thus eliminate any environmental irritants it encounters. So, if I pee in the pool, the water will make like a white rabbit and disappear. Well, with so many ‘pool pissers’ having a blast in the lakes, that waste keeps adding up. And that water flows right over the falls, right into the upturned faces of those curious little tourists getting misted by a toxic cocktail of chemicals and effluent. Free chemical peel included. Also, note that the toxic foam that snuggles against the Maid of the Mist tour boat as it pulses through the churning waves has not been added to intensify your ‘fun’ factor. 

  Manufacturing continued and so too, did the chemical dumping. As if that wasn’t bad enough, people started getting bored with the monotony of tight rope walking and barreling over the falls (plus it became illegal). On to the next thing. Wouldn’t want anyone spending too much time thinking about the following chemicals that have been freely dumped into the Niagara river since the fifties…

  • 37 million gallons of radioactive waste courtesy of “The Manhattan Project”
  • 110 million gallons of untreated waste water (don’t worry, SCA Chemical Services had a permit for that)
  • Tons of VOC’s: volatile organic chemicals like formaldehyde, paints, CFCs, that irritate and cause major health problems

  And on and on it goes. Here’s a shattering account of all the other pollutants in the area if you’re interested. 

  Experts estimate that even if all chemical and waste dumping were stopped immediately, it would still take 200 years or more to get old Niagara back to her pre-chemical disposition. Hope you plan on living for a long time. Wait, does that all sound like bad news? There is some good news. People do care a little. I know I do.

  Anyway, the chemical companies want you to forget about all that…Instead: tourist attractions!!! Monetizing the falls actually began as early as the 1800s, when tourists prevented from seeing their austere beauty were charged a few coins to get a closer look. True to form, this spurred on a whole gamut of ridiculous tourist traps that have since floated to the surface like toxic toluene particles. Oddly enough, you’ll find an assortment of wax museums, outlet shopping, haunted houses, poor poor food choices, and souvenir shops looming eerily along the Canadian side of the falls. At night it’s Las Vegas, except you can’t get an escort. Wait, you can do that in Niagara, too. Never mind. The kids love the overpriced crap (ice-cream cones, stuffed ‘mascots’, and photographs with you in a barrel in front of a green screen). They just don’t realize that mommy and daddy have to pay a shit ton of money so little Clara can ‘experience the wonder and beauty of mother nature’. 

  What really gets my goat, if I can use that expression, are the attraction packages. These are decidedly the top four things to do while in Niagara (and of course it’s cheaper to get the package than even pay for two of the four tours). The tours are overpriced and packed to the gills with overweight tourists and fanny packs. I would say “just skip ‘em” but it’s the only way you’ll get close enough to the falls to feel the thud of the water hitting the rocks below. A caveat, the park says that all of the money for these tours goes directly back into preservation of the park. If you happen to look down and see the hurricane of plastics bottles laying beside the falls, or smell the briny foam kicking up beside the shore, it’ll make you wonder what part of Niagara is actually being preserved. Again, none of this money is likely going to chemical clean up. Please tell me I’m wrong. 

  Warning… if you don’t wanna listen to me rant, stop reading now (and probably forever)

  Tour Package ($34.95)

  Niagara’s Fury ($17 on its own)

  This was a lame 4D movie about the ‘history’ of the falls. Ironically, the history was so murky, no dates were really given, and approximations by a white cartoon owl were vague at best. The actual ‘fury’ part consisted of standing in a room where you got to witness the ‘creation of the falls’. Special effects and loud noises were moving, but again, we learned absolutely nothing and the scenes often didn’t make sense. You’re given a yellow disposable plastic poncho with the fury logo on it to wear during the show because you get wet.

  Maid of the Mist ($14.50 on its own)

  You pop onto an old boat for a six minute close-up gander at the falls. The spray will cover your face and any other exposed limbs. Knowing what you know now about the chemical daiquiri spiralling around above your head, bring some towels and wear sunglasses to protect your eyes. WORST THING EVER: You’re offered another poncho, even if your wearing one from your last tour. You can recycle them if you notice the signs…. but do the math. One million visitors a month x 3 000 000 ponchos = a shit-ton of plastic waste created within a nature preserve. There’s no number inside the recycle triangle which as far as I know means you can’t really recycle them. At least not here in Canada. Disappointing.

  Journey Behind the Falls ($12.75 on its own) 

  Oh look, another flipping’ poncho. Even if you’ve got two on now. I can’t believe the waste here. Absolutely ridiculous. Anyhow, this time you go down an elevator into some grimy tunnels and peer into the mist from behind the falls. Apparently the flow of the river is actually 50% of its normal flow as water is diverted through the hydroelectric plants and spat out down river. Damn dams. Overall: really neat, extremely loud. Wet. Fun. Damn the extra ponchos.

  White Water Walk ($9.00 on its own) 

  Umm, you go down an elevator and then walk one kilometre beside the raging Niagara river on a dilapidated wood bridge. I am dismayed that they charged money for this. The life threatening class 6 rapids are impressive, but should only privileged gawkers have the chance to view them? I think not. This should be a free attraction. Especially since the attraction requires zero upkeep.

  The above tourist traps especially seem to attract doe-eyed honeymooners lustful for a unique waterfall experience and overpriced hotel ($300 CAD a night). Luckily Trav and stayed in a parking lot for a total of $15 the first night and $5 the second, so we did pretty well. The first night we’re pretty sure the parking attendant pocketed $5. Dick.

  Niagara has seen a great deal of change in her life time. She’s seen peaceful First Nations settle around her, wars spill young blood on her, opportunistic chemical companies pollute her, and idiots try to ride her. A very high pain tolerance, if you ask me. If Niagara has done anything for us, she has ripped our eyelids wide open to the sad usurping of a thing called nature that is only around for as long as we don’t eff it up. Travis and I are not environmental zealots, but we are definitely rethinking our carbon footprint and our legacy. We’re no longer going to sit back and watch things happen when we know we have a voice to challenge them. If Niagara could speak, we’re sure she’d agree. Until then, she’ll chew you up and spit you out if you get too close.

  You still want to visit, eh? Well, in case we haven’t ruined the hype for you, here’s a complete list of other stuff you can do while there. Leave your barrel at home. Stunters are fined up to $10 000 for their idiocy. 

  ****

  Interesting Facts:  Did you know you could see turds floating in the Niagara river in the 50s? Apparently sewage treatment is a rather new concept… 

  Niagara on Wikipedia

  Tagged: Rachel

  Posted on June 1, 2010

  Comments

• Toronto: New York of the North?

  

  Day 226

  We’ve both been to Toronto before, but decided to try and approach it like we’ve approached nearly every other city on this journey. Like a couple of noobs acting like spies. Here’s the rundown:

  Day One

  Our first mistake was trying to slide obese Walter through the narrow streets of urban Toronto in search of an inner city camp site (aka parking lot). It was like trying to squeeze an Oscar Meyer wiener into a drinking straw. The bendy kind. After an hour of sweat and tears, dirty looks, and honks from peeved Torontonians, we managed to suck the proverbial meat from the straw and ended up 40 minutes outside of downtown. A dirty Walmart in the suburb of Mississauga. 

  Day One Findings

  Toronto drivers are assholes. At least on the highway. I shit you not, these people might actually be as bad as Miami drivers. (By the way, what is with major cities and their driver’s complete lack of decency on the road? Is it substandard driver education? Is the high concentration of carbon monoxide turning their frontal lobes into gravy?) Once they leave the main arteries, they seem to cool down a little… unless you are like us on Toronto streets: the equivalent of Rita MacNeil being birthed by Calista Flockhart.

   

  Day Two

  After the Rita MacNeil hotdog birth experience from the previous night, we came to terms with the fact that Toronto is just not a good city for RVs. We were forced to the distant edge of the metropolis before finding a campground to house the mighty beast. Although happy to find a safe settlement, the galactic distance to downtown left little to be desired. But hey, we are seasoned champions of foreign transit systems, right?

  Our commute to downtown Toronto consisted of a ten minute scooter ride, followed by a 45 minute bus ride, followed by an hour long subway ride. That, plus the ride home came out to nearly FOUR HOURS. This left just enough time to walk down Yonge Street, eat, grab an overpriced drink and go home.

  Day Two Findings

  Toronto transit is really good… but not if your base camp is in the boonies. Drinks are expensive. Patios can be difficult to find. Yonge Street is loaded with dirty little holes-in-the-wall restaurants which are probably all awesome. We wouldn’t know because we ate at the food court in the mall (!).

  Also, the panhandlers in this city will handle you like nowhere else. If you decide to hang on to your cash or don’t have any cigarettes to give, prepare to be accosted. We didn’t see anyone get hurt in the sticks and stones variety, but yelling, insults, and sarcasm seem to be par for the course.

   

  Day Three: Alone Day

  It took a couple days to get it right, but I’m marking day three as a success. Instead of wasting our time on transit, we got up, jumped on ‘Bella and scooted the side streets all the way downtown in half the time. Rach and I declared this our “alone day”. I think she got a manicure and a massage or something. While she was getting insulted by grumpy curmudgeons, I explored the city with vigour. Somehow I managed to fit the Art Gallery of Ontario, The Ontario College of Art and Design, a stroll down Queen Street, and a Steam Whistle brewery tour. 

  After regrouping over a mediocre dinner on a fantastic patio at the Black Bull, we scooted down to the CN Tower to take in a breathtaking Toronto sunset from 446.5 metres (1,465 ft) high. You can actually see the curvature of the Earth. There was also an escort entertaining a portly gentleman who may or may not have been an Ontario politician. I bet she goes up there at least once a week (the tower, perverts).

  Day Three Findings

  Toronto is a gold mine for creatives. It is a thriving petri dish of art, design, architecture, fashion, film, music and theatre. Inspiration blankets Toronto like oil in the Gulf of Mexico (too soon?). T.O. also happens to be a remarkable town for scooters. I can’t think of any other city where we’ve been able to travel so far on non-scary roads. Plus you can park ‘em anywhere… and people do.

   

  Day Four

  We met up with our friend, Mr. Scott Boms, who took us around the city to scarf some epic burritos, guzzle some quality beers, geek out at Silver Snail, take a tequila shot at the legendary Horseshoe Tavern, and meet some of Scott’s awesome geek friends at the lovely Sweaty Betty. During the course of all this madness, Scott pointed out the legendary Greg Keelor sitting in a park, and me and Rach walked by Mark McKinney on the way back to the scooter. Who knew the first celebrity run-ins we’d have would be in Toronto, Ontario?

  Day Four Findings

  Toronto, despite it’s latitude, can produce some pretty mean burritos. Canadian celebrity sightings are quite common. The best parts of Toronto are the places you have to look for. Lastly, Scott Boms is the man (not that we didn’t know that before). A man who knows design, a man who truly understands the web, a man who has shown us our new favorite places in Toronto, and a man who we will always consider a friend. Thanks Scott!

   

  In Sum

  We like Toronto. It’s got great art, design, culture, food. On paper it sounds like the ideal city, but something about it just doesn’t sit with us. As great as it is, we could never shake that feeling that it’s trying to be something it isn’t. You could say it’s the New York of the north, but that’s sort of the problem… it isn’t New York, it’s Toronto. If you’re a wiener, don’t try to be a smokie. Embrace your wienerness or you’ll end up looking like a cocktail weenie.

   

  Tagged: Travis

  Posted on June 1, 2010

  Comments

• Home Run

  Day 226

  Just reporting for your glorious interest… 

  Only 9 more days of this wonderful, mind altering trip. Who needs run-of-the-mill uppers when you can just sell your house, buy and RV and travel the damn country?

  Side effects may include: emptying your own sewage on your shoe. Twice.

  See you soon 

  xo

  Posted on June 1, 2010

  Comments

• Parliamentary Comparisons

  

  Day 223

  Having spent 98.9% of our adult lives growing up and living in the True North, we gnawed eagerly on the competition that good ole’ Ottawa spit out once we arrived. We couldn’t wait to size up Ottawa against the older, more widely-known government buildings of Washington DC. Travis had our nation’s capital as a youngster and told me it was pretty cool. But I, myself, was a virgin to the monuments and security around me, and I was turned off government after the tripod incident in Washington. Actually, to be completely honest, the thought of scouting out more government buildings bored me to tears. But I was seriously misguided. Hilarious comparisons awaited our discovery.

  I’m sure you’re just dying to hear our first impressions after seeing both US and Canada’s government infrastructure (my fancy word for buildings, security guards, and other general quirks). 

  There are some very notable differences between how these two countries are securitized.

  Security

  USA

  When we think of security in Washington DC, we are reminded of notorious guards with dark uniforms, roaring around the state building on motorcycles, frightening tourists with their perfectly trimmed-moustaches and invisible humour. One particular guard stands out in our memory. Taking his job at the National Gallery of Art very seriously, he lurched out of his post to berate a young girl climbing in a cherry tree in full blossom. She was with her family posing for photographs, barely six inches off the ground. From more than 25 metres away, we heard his inhuman bellow—

  GET OUT OF THE TREEE. GET OUT OF THAT TREE RIGHT NOW!!! And again and again until the poor girl practically fell out of it. His voice went hoarse from the effort.

  Recall this was an angry gallery employee. Not a presidential body guard on Capitol Hill.  

  Recall that you are not even allowed upon the steps of the Capitol building or you would likely get shot.

  CANADA

  Now contrast this with Canadian security. We strolled up to the Canadian House of Parliament. We walked right up the steps. They were holding parliament tours and people patiently lined up to see the inner workings of the Canuck government. 

  Outside, I saw a few police officers. No body guards or strange men with sunglasses or ear buds stood squarely in the doorway. There was, however, a lady cop eating a butterscotch pudding in her squad car as she slowly circled the grounds. She smiled at us.

  Rallies take place regularly on Parliament Hill, with the most recent being an anti-abortion protest on May 13, 2010. But there was no such rally happening the day we arrived. 

  Granted this was no ordinary day. This just happened to be Girl Guide Canada’s 100th birthday. The grounds were littered with balloons, children, birthday horns, and bagpipes. What a spew of colour. The only terrorists I saw on Canadian soil were ten-year-olds forcefully trying to help puppies and toddlers cross the street. 

  But don’t quote me on that.

  Seeing the parade of colour I was reminded of that one dude we saw protesting male circumcision in Washington, DC with his sign held high in the air. I’m sure it was an off day on Capitol Hill. Surely, more than one person in America cares about babies getting their foreskins chopped off.

  At any rate, in case you’re not convinced about Canada’s powerful level of security, take this example. Our friends Wendy and Chris guided us through Rideau and Gardens just past office hours. If you’re not familiar, this is where popular Governor General Michaëlle Jean resides. Her role debated, Jean is still certainly in need of security. No sooner did we stroll over to her un-gated house, a single security guard wandered out, smiling. He floated a couple of questions at us, inquiring whether Western Canadians thought lowly of the ‘East’. He joked he had nothing to do with the income tax hikes. He joked about how security at Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s place was even stricter. Gurads don’t smile there! My next logical thought was to ask him whether tripods were permitted on the premise. “Sure,” he laughed. “Why not?”

  Ummm?

  Because of terrorist threats? Like in the USA? Actually, in Canada the worst tactical weapon is a banana cream pie. You’ll find this method is used by rebel extremists to damage politicians’ resolve when they become selectively deaf. It works well as a humiliation device. Aside from the FLQ crisis, this is as serious as our government blitzes tend to get.  

  The security guard thanked us and told us to come back again during tour hours. He said we might get to meet the Governor General in person! We might be busy that day, but I’m sure she’s really nice.

  Architecture

  USA

  US government architecture is a concoction of architectural influence from classical Greece, Rome, Egypt, medieval Europe, and 19th century France. Pretty regal looking columns, those. I was impressed, but also a little detached. It was as if I was a just a puny sacrifice for the Greek God of Impressive Things with no relevance to the great stones of immovable power. Basically, those buildings were a bit cold.

  CANADA

  On the other hand, Ottawa’s architecture speaks richly of gothic revival. The arches of the parliament building are embedded with forest creatures. Most notably, a maniacal unicorn. Apparently this unicorn symbolizes purity. I don’t know of any pure unicorns. Those savage beasts fornicate all day long and mark their territory with rainbows. No good creatures. Unicats, on the other hand… 

  Yet, still I am drawn to the magical buildings of Ottawa —a magnetism I never felt in DC. It’s probably those searing eyes peering out of that indifferent DC stone that have got me all jumpy. Just a thought. 

  Monuments

  

  USA

  What really cracked us up was how statues are regarded in both the US and Canada. We’re all familiar with the oversized Abe Lincoln statue inside the DC memorial. Imagine anyone jokingly going hog wild on old Abe’s leg. You can bet your boots if Abe didn’t kick the perpetrator himself, security would be in there booking the ‘crook’ for defacing public property in ten seconds flat.

  CANADA

  Then there’s Canada. I may or may not have seductively posed with my arms around a bronzed boy —don’t worry, he was an architect who had his fingers eternally poised over the lines of a future panopticon. He wasn’t interested in me. Actually I have no idea, it could have been a simple triangle he was tracing. I didn’t see any explanatory plaque explaining me out of that situation. 

  Here’s the thing. My pose was tame. Braver ladies than I posed with legs lewdly splayed over Lester B. Pearson’s lap like he ordered up a cheap Canadian whiskey and a little rump roast. And it wasn’t just the ladies. Kids with monkey antics clamoured all over the statues, spreading their grimy spit germs all over Nellie McClung (leader of women’s suffrage). Her hand was worn to a golden shine where it had been lovingly groped. People young and old rubbing shoulders with history. Literally. It was a bit of a wonderful disgrace. I mean, this is true patriotism, right?

  The funniest part? Not one security officer, cop, nor gallery guard appeared. No one yelled, ordered people off, threatened them with large firearms. It was if this interaction was somehow encouraged. 

  I nearly forgot… Ottawa’s Parliament Hill features feral cats. Like: cats that are wild but are fed by some devoted old guy named René. They live right on Parliament Hill and come and go as they please. A special enclosure has been made for them to keep warm in the winter. So no, we don’t have ferocious attack dogs in Canada defending our freedom. But we have cats. Indifferent, reticent, wild cats. And that’s awesome.

  We should have brought our tripod.

  Tagged: Rachel

  Posted on May 29, 2010

  Comments

• Day 220

  We did it! Travis explains how to cross the border in style.  

  Rachel agrees.

   Border Penetration (by Travis Gertz)

  Posted on May 26, 2010

  Comments

Walter is here…

Creations

The Stray Muse

Experimentationalism

Video

Twitter

Facebook