1 inch ( in. or " )  =    about the width of a thumb = 25.4 mm
12 inches ( ins.)  = 1 foot = about the length of a size 10 shoe = 305 mm
3 feet ( ft. )  =  1 yard = about from nose to stretched finger = 0.91 m
1760 yards (yds)  =  1 mile ( m ) = about 15 minutes walking  = 1.61 km

Seriously?! And wait, it gets worse.

16 drams ( dr )  =  1 ounce = a tablespoon of sugar = 28 grams
16 ounces ( ozs.)  =  1 pound = a bag of sugar = 0.45 kg
14 pounds ( lbs)  =  1 stone used in body weight  = 6.35 kg
2 stone  =  1 quarter less common unit = 12.7 kg
4 quarters  =  1 hundredweight = 112 lb
20 hundredweight (cwt)  =  1 ton = 2240 lb. = about 14 men = 1.016 tonne

Nothing quite helps your self esteem than having your body weight measured in rocks, does it?  

Oh, and here’s another one: why measure how many litres of gas per 100 km a car consumes when you can say how many miles a car can go with one gallon of gas! What’s the reasoning behind that? “Gimme 2 gallons, Bob, and I’ll see how far it’ll take me!”.

I can’t imagine how anyone would not like that, and yet some prefer staying at home, tending the garden or the barbeque instead of trekking the globe, exploring new places and broadening their minds. A friend of mine said that maybe the “I heart traveling” goes hand in hand with us being scientists, having inquisitive minds and also hearting the thrill of new discoveries. I am positive this is true; discoveries, either scientific or cultural don’t tickle everyone’s fancy, but for the ones that are lucky enough to have their fancy tickled, the prospect of a new trip somewhere far away is exhilarating!

As for me, when I travel I like the experience to rise to certain standards. And I’m not talking about those of hotels. I like being exposed to the culture and the rhythm of the new place, understand it intimately as if I had been living there for years. I prefer visiting places naturally influenced by the human existence instead of artificial resorts which teach me nothing. I would like to go to Mexico or Morocco or Turkey. But not to linger by the pool with a cocktail in my hand and then brag about how adventurous I am and what exotic places I’ve visited. A day at the spa has more action than that.

Which is why, I would love to go to these places:

Havana – for the architecture of the Old Town and the vintage cars.

Iceland – for sceneries like this,

hot springs,

and the aurora borealis.

Santorini – an old item on my list. For everything that this place is: unique villages, food incorporating some of my favourite ingredients, and a sea so blue you think it’s photoshopped.

Tuscany – because I love hills, the sun, and ripe tomatoes.

What’s on your travel list? I’d love to hear!

Photos from Flickr.

This idea for this post came to me as I was reading Elissa`s Dream destination series on her blog Ebb&Flow. Iceland and Santorini are on both our lists. The only explanation for this is that great minds think alike!

We had some fast fair food – burgers, fries and some poutine I actually enjoyed and then I started taking pictures of everything: the rides, the people, the Ferris wheel and the colourful food stands.

I love carnivals, they’re so full of bright colours, and always make me think of the 1950s, my absolute favourite decade. I was actually wearing something that resembled an outfit from the 50s: high-waist pants and a nice red scarf tied in a bow over my hair. I wasn’t going for a mid-century thing but the guy at the lemonade stand said this is what my look reminded him of, and he liked it so much that he gave me a lemonade at half price. Oh yeah!

At six o’clock they started inflating the balloons (which was a show in itself and a reason for a lot of picture snapping). I tell you, seeing hundreds of balloons up in the air is so fairytale-like, so surreal. Much like a picture you would see in a children’s book.

Unfortunately the rides were too expensive so we had to be happy with just seeing the balloons fly over our heads and disappear in the distance…

Have you ever taken a ride in a hot air balloon?

Now that we’ve moved to the new and improved apartment the distance to my work place has gone from 100 meters to 2 miles, give or take. Which means I must partake in the joy of commuting. At the beginning I was not happy about this downgrade AT ALL. [I know some of you have to commute for hours, so my meagre fifteen minutes or less doesn’t even reach the ankle of your commuting time, but hey, this is why I created this blog. To complain about shit egotistically, in ample posts that go nowhere. Anyway, back to me.] I mean who goes nuts about buses running late, having to renew your pass on the first of every month, or having to smell the BO of fellow commuters at rush hour?

But you know what? I’ve realized it’s not at all that bad. Ok, I always have to make sure I leave the house in time to catch the bus, I have to check the bus schedule online – I know I’ll memorize it eventually, just give me time – and I just have to deal with the fact that buses are sometimes late! But guys, those fifteen minutes when I’m on the bus, it’s just Switching-Off Time, or Think-About-The-Bigger-Picture Time, or Reflection Time, or just plain Reading Time. Do you know how many books I’ve read in one month of riding the bus? Four! I.e. a book a week. And that just makes me happy and proud!

You know what else I like to do while I’m on the bus? People-watch. And eaves-drop on their conversations… and sometimes imagine the story behind those conversations. Since the bus I’m taking is not at all crowded I’ve come to know my fellow commuters. There’s a Dad and his ridiculously cute little boy with an even cuter French accent; there’s this hipster girl that braids her hair in the most awesome style I’ve ever seen; the sixty(ish)-year old Grandma who sometimes takes her Grandson to the park is always so elegant and so patient when answering the silly questions she’s being asked; the weird lady I see every once in a while is so committed to making small talk to the driver that she’s driving me bonkers – I sometimes wish the driver would just tell her to can it or get off the bus.

So yeah, there you go, another aspect of my day to day existence which I gratuitously shared with the world whether the world liked it or not. All this to say that I feel like I’ve grown a little bit (fine, minus the passive-aggressive attitude towards the chatterbox lady) and that somehow, in a bizarre way, taking the bus to work seems to be contributing to building my character.

How about you? Do you commute to work? Do you like it? 

After the hellish heat wave  I was complaining about a few weeks ago, rain is now upon us. In enormous quantities! Don’t get me wrong, I love summer rains. They cool the air a bit, the smell of the water as it hits the hot asphalt is absolutely amazing, and sometimes for brief minutes before the storm begins, the light peering through the clouds is absolutely amazing!

Two days ago as I was walking home from the bus station it started pouring and I knew I would get soaked so I might as well enjoy it. I took off my glasses because, really what was the point in keeping them on when the water drops made everything blurry as an impressionist painting… I slowed my pace and tried to keep my eyes open because now, sans glasses the water drops were hitting my eyes furiously. I got drenched through my T-shirt and jeans in a matter of seconds, my shoes making this squeak-squeak sound with every step I took. The water felt so amazing on my face and I just couldn’t help but carry a huge grin on my face as I saw passers by struggling with their umbrellas and running towards the nearest eave. Despite the high content of H2O of my entire being, I was still jumping over the omnipresent puddles. The reason escapes me, habit, I guess… All this must have made for quite a sight!

I got home and after marking a trail of wet footprints from the door to the dryer, I changed clothes, but on my slippers and started preparing dinner. Two hours later D and I were enjoying some yummy chicken and an episode of House. Not bad for a rainy day!

Anyway, what I meant to tell you doesn’t have as much to do with the movie per se, as it has to do with D’s comment at the end.

So here’s the deal, he says. There’s a dream within a dream, within another dream. What’s more, at the end you don’t know if it was all a dream or not. And you want to hear something ironing (or really meta, I would have added)? I fell asleep for a little while during the movie and was actually dreaming about it!

This comes from a guy who took a nap during Cirque du Soleil. The dramatic music, he says is very soporific. So really, there’s no surprise that he was snoozing while Ellen Page was building upside down worlds.

On the same topic… from the Vie de Merde website, the French equivalent of FML.

Aujourd’hui, au ciné, je regarde Inception avec une amie qui m’attire beaucoup. Fin du film, lumières encore éteintes, je tente ma chance, déclare "Juste pour vérifier si on est dans un rêve...", puis l’embrasse. Je reçois une gifle monumentale et sa réponse : "Tu la sens bien, la réalité ?" VDM

Today, at the cinema I’m watching Inception with a female friend of mine that I’m really attracted to. End of the movie, lights still out, I try my luck and say “Just to check if we’re in a dream…”, then I kiss her. I get a monumental slap and her answer: “Do you feel reality now?”. FML.

Fast forward to the moment when Zeus and Hades are arguing, close to the end. And I swear, I’ve never heard a most horrendous line than the one when Ralph Fiennes says “the Kraken” four times in the same sentence. His pronunciation of the word is nauseating. I can’t decide what would be less traumatizing: listening to him say “the Kraken” over and over again or watching The English Patient from start to finish…

* do not let my apparent ignorance fool you. I used to love reading Greek mythology when I was a kid and still do. But this movie was SO BAD I could not bring myself to write something about it without resorting to sarcasm. Beside the bad acting, what makes the movie catastrophic is that the Kraken is not even Greek, it`s Norwegian.

Before you say anything, I know my last post dates back to the first Ice Age. My mind has been in so many places lately, divided between bits of thoughts and worries and various stress causes. And the blog has been neglected. But, BUT! not abandoned. See?

Actually I must thank my sister for pushing me to write. I’ve started writing this because she wrote me a message today asking to please write something on this blog of mine because she’s getting so bored and is in need of something to read.

Well, I’m not exactly in the mood for tale telling, but I know I’ve promised you guys some pictures from the South of France. So here they are, some belated photos from one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

First of all, Nice, where the sea is a greenish blue so saturated that you think it’s been photoshopped.

There’s a certain charm to the city which urges you to leave your troubles behind and invites you to just stroll down the streets and enjoy the salty air. I wonder what it would be like to live in one of the apartment buildings on Promenade des Anglais and to see the Mediterranean outside your window?

Also along the coast is Marseille, which I found dirty and crowded and so un-holiday-like. But I admired its buildings and wished I could stay longer to visit Chateau d’If and remember my childhood readings about Edmond Dantes.

We then headed North, towards the heart of Provence and its old capital, the city of Aix where people speak French with a funny accent we couldn’t help but imitate. We strolled along Cours Mirabeau, a busy boulevard lined with tree arcades and bought lavender sachets from the merchants in the market. We then ventured into the intricate street maze that is the Old Aix. I could have spent hours on end photographing every street corner and every fountain we passed by.

The most beautiful of all was Place d’Albertas. With its decrepit fountain in the middle and the classic pastel buildings in the background it’s so picture perfect.

Another small detail I love about France is the merry-go-rounds that pop up when you least expect it. A whirl of color that invites me to hop on for a ride… and take out my camera of course.

After we left Aix, we headed to the plateau of Valensole, a truly amazing place, where the air is heavy with the scent of grass and lavender. And where as far as the eyes can see there are olive trees and purple fields.

On our way back we passed through a small town in the Alps where you could take a ride in… you’ll never guess it…

Sadly our trip lasted for only ten days. Much too short, yes. Who would I have to talk to for a redo?

The main woe source is the fact that my vacation is over and I’m already planning my next one. Can we fast forward to Christmas break already? As it happens every time I come back from Europe, I am very jet lagged. But in a good way. This means I go to sleep at 6-7pm and wake up at 5-6 am. Wait! How may hours of sleep is that? 5, 6, 7, 8, oh dear, I’ve lost count already. The sheer number is mind boggling, at least for a perpetually sleep-deprived person like myself!

So yes, I am happy with my new eat-sleep-work routine. And I’ll do my absolute best to make it last as long as possible. Even if it means cutting all communication with the outside world. SLEEP TRUMPS EVERYTHING ELSE! (Okay, maybe with a few exceptions…). In fact this will be my new mantra. Seriously, why don’t I own this poster already?

And so the woes begin… First with a 4-hour trip to IKEA which obviously goes waaay past my unorthodox bedtime. It was around 8pm yesterday and I was pushing a trolley through aisle #22 when we realized they didn’t have the ALWIDALNLASJ* table we wanted.  In that precise moment I gave up the idea of having an actual dining table. Eating like evolved human beings, as opposed to the Neanderthal-like way we eat now – that is, assuming Neanderthals ate on their computer desk while watching reruns of 30 Rock or Top Gear – is so over-rated!

And it goes on. At around 9:30pm, after we deposited the boxes over the crap that’s piled and scattered all over the apartment (yes, we still haven’t unpacked!) I decided to take a shower while D returned the U-HAUL van. Ten minutes later, I was curling under the covers, enjoying the AC breeze and slowly drifting away to Dream Land. All of a sudden the phone rings. I knew it must be D because who else would call at that insanely ridiculous hour!

So I get out of bed, trip several times on God knows what that’s been lying on the floor since the Crusades, answer the phone, only to realize D has hung up. I call back. Do you know why he called me in the first place? To tell me he found a supermarket on his way home and wanted to ask if I wanted something, but then realized it was closed so hung up after two rings. I know some of you will say “how thoughtful and sweet of him!”. Yes, sweet, but WRONG! Luckily for both of us it seems that nowadays I can sleep like a bear shot with a triple dose of tranquilizers, so no harm done, really.

Another woe source is this obnoxious heat wave that has hit all of North America. And when you add to it the sticky wetness in Montreal, you’re in for a real treat… where treat equals an extra 7°C. 38°C feels like 45°C. Stepping outside becomes the equivalent of treading through a boiling swamp. If you’re uninspired enough to wear jeans, prepare to lug around three pounds more attached to your legs in the form of sweat absorbed by said unfortunate pants. Seriously, who woulda thunk that Canada CANADA! would be so hot?

Now that the woes have been expressed, let me tell you about the stuff that makes me happy. Two letters: AC! Aren’t they the most beautiful ones in the alphabet? And also, 50GB of pictures from the South of France which I am going to process this weekend.

Prepare for some tales and pictures from Provence in the following posts!

*Not an actual IKEA product.

One more reason to look forward to August…