06 January 2013
Laguna
The
Mayans had it all wrong. The world did not go under, even if the
lengthy interval since the last entry in this blog may have led you
to think otherwise. The absence of epic floods must have come as
particular relief to the residents of my latest destination, for
Venetians have enough of water all around them as it is.
For
centuries, this unique city has lived through highs and lows, and has
withstood tidal waves of traders, invaders, and tourists. Every year,
over four million of them roll in, and are channeled through Venice's
maze of waterways, alleys, promenades and bridges. We arrived for a
couple of days just after the new year had begun, in what is
supposedly the very low season. Looking at the hordes present
nonetheless, one dreads contemplating what peak season may look like.
Fortunately,
unlike water, tourists do not strive for an equilibrium. Adventurous
as we were, we headed for the paths less trodden, and soon found
ourselves away from the main drag in charming little side streets,
peeking into opulent courtyards and watching nonne
hang
their laundry on lines across the canals. Every so often, we would
pass a brightly painted chapel, church, cathedral, basilica or
trattoria
– places of worship each one of them. And whenever we felt the need
for a little pick-me up, we indulged in this most Italian treat of
all: The €1 caffè
at
the corner bar (Note to North American readers: This consists of
approx. 3 oz. of super strong, freshly brewed, steaming hot espresso,
without foam, cocoa powder, soy milk, caramel syrup or any other
aberrations of the sort.) The effect is instant, and comes with a
complimentary side of people watching.
Which
here, unlike at the Las Vegas imitation, is a joy all by itself.
Perhaps following the same advice to visit during the winter months,
a refreshing number of domestic Italian visitors populated the city.
And they brought with them the impeccable fashion, and casual cool
attitude, that is so typical of this magnificent people. From
teenagers with their bomber jackets and gelled hair, to signore
in
fur and heels, to elderly gentlemen with their bright yellow cashmere
sweaters and corduroy pants, they all oozed style from behind their
oversized sunglasses. If you were born north of the alps (or, god
forbid, west of the Atlantic), you will find the spectacle by the
lagoon both mesmerizing and frustrating, for you will simply not
stand a chance. All this humiliation is made only a bit more
palatable by the fact that Italians are, well, Italians: Wink at a
passing signorina,
and she will acknowledge your adoration with a smile – before
hopping on the next vaporetto.
As
the sun sets and the rising mist shrouds the city in mystical
twilight, it is reassuring to see how Venice has withstood water and
visitors for another day. Over a glass of white wine on the lagoon, I
take confidence in the year ahead. It may not be a gondola ride, but
at the end of the storm, there is always calm. Grazie,
serenissima!
Labels: fashion, leisure, travel
# posted by Oli : 17:48
02 February 2011
UdM
When I first spent time in Montréal, many moons ago, it was under the pretext of a French immersion. To lend credibility to this claim, I attended classes at the Faculté de l'éducation permanente at Université de Montréal, the largest of Montréal's four universities. The month-long course gave me not just a handy degree and a student ID valid for three years (!), but also provided free access to CEPSUM, the university's sports complex. When I returned to Montréal to live here, I was happy to learn that CEPSUM's pool had just been renovated, and have been a regular user since.Whenever I come to CEPSUM, I feel a bit out of place (even more so than yours truly should at any fitness facility). Straight from the office, dressed in shirt and slacks and looking ever so slightly older than the 60'000 university students who get free access to the complex, I don't quite blend in with the others.
Not that those kids would all look the same. Today, CEPSUM hosted the annual open day for prospective students, and after doing my laps I was lured into the big forum by a charming girl handing me a documentation kit in a nice gift bag (whether she thought that I was a future student or the parent of one will remain her secret). As I roamed among the different stands presenting the various programs offered, it dawned upon me just how big the university really is. From Anthropologie to Urbanisme, virtually every subject can be studied. And as if to confirm every conceivable stereotype, each booth drew its typical crowd:
Black shirts and slim jackets for Architecture, broad shoulders for Kinésiologie, colorful scarves and the latest couture for Littératures de langue française, rugged jeans and flannel shirts for Géographie, turtlenecks and horn-rimmed glasses for Cinéma, and of course the inevitable poor shaves and red eyes for Informatique - I could not hide a smirk, given the scene.
No less interesting than what they wore was which stands the students decided to visit. Long lines formed for Criminologie and Médecine, both offering excellent job perspectives thanks to the Italian mafia in town. A good number of youngsters talked to the representatives for Histoire and Communication - this was the group I would probably best have fitted in with a few years ago, even their sense of fashion seemed palatable. A fistful of particularly daring candidates ventured out to the stalls for Etudes allemandes and that fascinating program with the catchy name Mathématiques, statistique et actuariat. And one lost soul even made it to Théologie et sciences des réligions. Among the abundance of options, which extended to social services, the university radio station and the elite sports team, there was only one booth which remained completely abandoned, both by staff and students. The lone banner for this exotic and entirely revolting subject read: Etudes anglaises.
Labels: education, fashion, sport
# posted by Oli : 22:10
21 January 2011
Tuque
Fashion stops at freezing point. Or so it appears these days, with Montréal presenting itself in its winterly cover of snow, sleet and slush. Waking up to a clear and sunny winter's day this morning, a glance at the outside thermometer indicated a balmy temperature of -19C, which served as a strong incentive to bring out that thick down jacket, the thermal underwear and ski gloves. Once properly mummified, I stepped outside and immediately felt the cold arctic breeze in my face. The wind chill factor made the temperature feel like a cozy -27C, according to MetéoMédia.These conditions are not unusual, and the locals have learned to live with them. They have also come up with some very sophisticated gear to cope with the cold, including brands such as Bula, Kanuk, Arc'teryx and Canada Goose (a parka of which is now worn around a certain Swiss mountain resort...). The winter equipment produced by those specialists is excellent, but it does make you look a bit like Michelin Man.
But by common consensus, even the fashion-conscious Montréalais are ready to abandon good looks in favor of staying warm during the winter months. People routinely arrive at work with heavy winter boots before changing into moccasin house shoes, and I can even get away with wearning pants that have slush stains up their lower back - the unmistakable proof that I have braved the cold and walked to the métro.
If there is one thing, though, that makes Canadian winter dress unmistakable, it has got to be the tuque. Its very name is a compromise between French and English (no separatism with cold ears), and its fur-clad interior protects Canucks from snow, while its extendable ear and forehead flaps keep the entire face warm. NZZ Folio may claim that Finnish and Soviet soldiers first came up with the idea, but surely must have been the Canadians who have civilized and immortalized the item. Practical, unpretentious and warm, it perfectly resonates with their national identity - and climate!
High time, then, that I'll go under cover, for I intend to spend large parts of next weekend out in the cold. And while I am looking for a tuque, you can look for how many different types of headgear you'll find in this little clip of a typical Canadian winter activity. Stay warm!
# posted by Oli : 23:03
19 November 2010
Shorts
That's it. Season's definitely over, see you next year. Or so I felt as I rolled up my favorite pair of shorts yesterday and tucked them away in my suitcase. As I am writing this, I am heading north and east, leaving the balmy climates of Arizona behind me and heading into the northern winter.To be fair, the shorts got to see a fair bit of use this year, much more in fact than they usually would. This is largely due to my new home and the travel pattern extending across the southern border from there. My knee-longs were first deployed to the flowery fields of Tennessee in early April. Leisurely walks along Ottawa's Rideau Canal in May prepared them for more strenuous exercise to come: Hikes in the Swiss mountains in June, the green hills of Vermont in July and the national parks of Québec in August and September. They would have very much enjoyed the warm autumn sun of October in D.C., had their owner not left them at home after poorly researching destination temperatures. But they got another chance to bask under the desert sun this week, once more taking in some fresh air before it is finally time to go into bottom-closet hibernation.
Life is easy in shorts, and while Asians are rarely observed wearing them and Europeans usually confine them to casual environments, North Americans (along with Ozzies, from what I can tell) have no inhibitions to flaunt them in every context and setting. Although I still frown upon that "bermudas + white socks + sneakers" look, I start to appreciate its benefits more as my perception of the United States changes to the one of an essentially southern country. New York lies on the same latitude as Naples, and the rest of the nation extends to the south of that. Summers are long, hot and in some places humid, and the growth of the southern states in recent decades is a testimony to the advance of air condition. That leisurely relaxed look may have something to do with American values (and silhouettes!), but climate has got to play a far larger role than I had previously assumed.
Canada, naturally, is a different story. But from the many cheerful encounters with Canadian snowbirds joining me on hikes among the red rocks of Sedona, and in the malls of Scottsdale, Canucks are eager to blend in the moment they head south. With blending in being a Swiss virtue as well, my white socks saw almost as much sun this year as the shorts did (although I stopped short of committing this fashion crime on my European jaunt, for fear of serious social punishment).
Still feeling the sun's tingle on my sand-blasted skin, it is hard to believe that snow may waiting for me in Montréal, and the hockey season is in full swing. And yet, even these fleece-lined thermal pants can be a harbinger of joy: A steaming cup of tea after a walk through winter wonderland, a cozy night tucked away under a blanket in a countryside cabin, skiing the powdery slopes under bright blue skies - there is clearly more to winter than just dark depressing days spent adding and removing layers of fabric.
One of the things I am most excited about, however, is an upcoming trip to get my ritual treatment against winter depression. With the exception of last year, I've been exposing my body and soul to this comprehensively nourishing cure at the same reputed institution for over 10 years, and its impact usually remains visible until well after it's time to put shorts on again. Intrigued? Watch this space - and European airports near you!
# posted by Oli : 14:36
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