There are some who regret their tattoos – indeed a few people I know were admittedly young, naive or intoxicated when they got theirs. Two of my core beliefs, however, are a) to live without regret, and b) that everything happens for a reason – therefore getting a tattoo ought to have represented a lot of thought, or at least accurately represented your character at the time, and thus you should not feel shame. For that is who you were, and if you are different now, perhaps that act and your guilt caused a paradigm shift in your self-belief. Therefore who you are now was critically informed by your earlier immature self.

Anyway, such a permanent decision for someone like me nowadays incites an imperative that it would have to be exceptionally meaningful. And it would also show a perceived immaturity which is not representative of myself now. As you get older, a tattoo’s permanence (whether new or old) weighs down even heavier.

Regardless, for fun I often give thought to what I would get. Something to do with sport? I’ve golfed all my life. I have found new passions in rowing and cycling. But who knows for how long? How silly would it feel to explain something in 10 years that was meaningful for one or two years of my life? What about wine? While yes, I am passionate about the industry and am neck-deep in it professionally, I am no wine geek compared to my peers and do not purport to be.

So how about core philosophies or matras? This angle might be more my style. My wife found this (I think) or came up with it herself, and has it on a post-it note on her bulletin board. Somehow this was instantly meaningful and representative and I still often gaze upon it in times of needing purpose or direction.

Learns
Overcomes
Becomes

I’m not sure how you would appropriately graphically represent this flowing statement, however.

And not to worry, folks, I have zero percent chance of following through. I think it’s more of a mental exercise to propose such a commitment, rather than actually proceed with it. Because, as I said, it’s permanent.

I am happy to report that it did not go unnoticed.

A few days ago, I received this reply from BC Cancer Foundation CEO Mr. Douglas Nelson:

Thank you for your response to my email and apologies for my late reply.

I am very happy to hear that you and your organization are sensitive to my concerns, which are very likely widely shared, and that it will contribute to a basis of consideration as you decide upon a new sponsor.

Your foundation and the Ride to Conquer Cancer galvanize our community in very special and tender ways and it is incumbent upon you and the Ride’s organizers to think and act wholesomely on behalf of your principles and those of British Columbia’s. It sounds like you are mindful of such details. This is great news.

I will pay keen attention to your search for a new National Title Sponsor, and will be among the first to sign up for future Rides To Conquer Cancer depending on your selection.

Best wishes in your continued work and thank you again for reaching out to a concerned stakeholder in the fight against cancer.

All told, I am satisfied that they are at least listening, and that the foundation hasn’t employed blinders in the form of hundred-dollar-bills – unable to see anything save for the money.

Stay tuned for new sponsorship information in the months ahead. God willing, a far more reasonable and altruistic sponsor will be found and the Foundation will have discovered in me a new advocate and participant.

Earlier today I wrote and submitted a letter to the organizers of the Ride To Conquer Cancer over their current National Title Sponsor: Enbridge. I also sent my letter to the news departments of the CBC, CTV News and The Globe and Mail.

I am related to many cancer fighters – winners and losers – and would like to take part in this symbolic and significant fundraising event, however with the involvement of Enbridge, I simply cannot do so. Why, you ask? I believe there is a sad irony and conflict of interests at play: the sponsor’s business of health-impacting oil pipelines and environmental degradation versus The Ride To Conquer Cancer’s proposed core value of fighting cancer.

Enbridge’s participation is not terribly different, although less bold, from having a cigarette manufacturer as National Title Sponsor.

In the town of Terrace today, the local newspaper outlined how finalists and the winner of a Chamber of Commerce award sponsored by Enbridge all declined to accept on the grounds of a similar conflict. http://www.terracestandard.com/news/181001941.html

From the ‘winning’ organization, Skeena Wild Conservation Trust said, “It’s very clear that Enbridge is using sponsorship of community events as a public relations tool to help gain social licence for its project,” said Skeena Wild’s Julia Hill. “We are not interested in being a pawn in their PR game.”

Given the popularity of the annual Ride To Conquer Cancer and the overwhelming debate concerning Enbridge, I wanted to raise this issue with organizers and local media, to investigate Enbridge’s penetrating PR effort to earn favour amongst British Columbians.

My letter:

I’ve been wrestling with the idea of whether or not to continue my blog.

There. I said it. It’s out in the world, for all to hear.

But to, in fact, anyone?

The world is a fast-changing, and vastly-changed place since I started this blog only a few short years ago. I mean, say it out loud: “BLOG.” Sounds almost as ancient as “WALKMAN,” or “CASSETTE TAPE” (sorry, kids).

Since this blog was conceived community-thingies like Facebook and Twitter have prevailed and grown faster than February moss on a west-coast cedar. I now find most of my musings taking place on those forums instead of here on this blog, probably due more to a sense of convenience, brevity and the pleasure of immediate and visible interaction with my desired audience: my friends and peers. I have little idea who my audience is here. I know it’s not large, but who you are, precisely, largely escapes me.

Combine these factors with a significant decline in my personal time with which to write, and the idea of “updating my blog” seems frustrating, stressful and entirely daunting.

So the question becomes, what with the consequences of time constraints, and the conveniences of alternative, more widely-adopted, contemporary social media options, is there value in continuing this blog?

If so, what should it become?

Blogs require purpose. My artistic friends post music, photography, writing and recipes on their blogs. These are the perfect venues for such things. Me? Just rambling, and that might be better (or best) suited to the aforementioned publicly traded communities.

I look forward to your responses. A lack of responses will be equally telling.

Toulleries & Louvre, Paris

(click for big – this one I’m really proud of)

We’re back from our epic (to us) 21 day trip to Europe. We got home yesterday at about 4pm, suffered through 3 hours of laundry and a quick bite of neighbourhood sushi, and then were in bed at 6:45pm last night. Up at 5am today.

As you followed, the first ten days were in Italy – Tuscany, Florence, Barolo…

Then, as we arrived in Paris to begin the ten day French leg of our journey, the blog went silent. Well, I have three good reasons why:

- France and its 2,700 km adventure were work-related, and the schedule was horrendous. Up no later than 7 each day and in bed no sooner than midnight each night. Add in the travel via bus, team of 30 that travelled with me, plus meals and wine. Exhaustion reigned.

- blogging by iPad is not fun. The typing is not easy, though manageable; but add to this infrequent wi-fi connections and inopportune hours to write.

- I lost my iPhone 4S in a taxi-cab on our 2nd night in Paris. Just happened to be wearing trousers with shallow pockets (as is apparently the design these days – thanks Etro) and had a certain someone on my lap as we fit more than enough people in the vehicle… We scurried out once back at our hotel that night and away went my phone, not noticed for an hour, and by then way too late to do anything about. For two hours I called various French taxi numbers, but the receipt left no idea of what company it was, nor a contact number. So I was shooting in the dark.

Thus, with little time and no camera that could instantly upload to my photo stream, the blog concept was abandoned. I was only mad/frustrated/down for a day or two. I hate (read: HATE) losing things, since I have a streak of OCD in me. While a phone can be replaced, I think of it more as a knock against myself: my ability to control things around me and my own destiny. It drives (and indeed drove) me crazy. But I got over it.

The only other thing I lost was one of the two plug-in adaptors for Europe, which were $2.97 each, and we were able to get by with one, so no big deal really, though an expletive or two might have been aired at the time.

Otherwise France was great. I will update more soon, once the cobwebs of a full day of travel and 8 hour time difference are cleared, not to mention the mountain of “due tomorrow” work in front of me.

Before leaving I had arranged visits to three top producers of Barbaresco and Barolo, one of whom we have drunk before and two which are astronomically expensive and collectible (we’d never buy them, so why not visit and taste instead?).

On Monday we visited La Spinetta, a forward thinking producer based near Neive in Barbaresco. We got the typical tour that is interesting to most people but to geeks like me, well let’s just say I’ve seen a lot of barrels, and yes they use French oak, and yes harvest takes place in October, etc. etc. The usual. We were matched up with some Americans from Texas, who we quickly found out perfectly suited the arrogant, entitled, spoiled reputation that stains the common American Tourist when visiting abroad. Lines like, “they [the wineries] know how much we spent to get here, so they should open their doors for us” when referring to wineries that don’t accept visits, and “what’s your best, I want to taste that.” Their resentment was palpable when they discovered that my wife and I were visiting the top wineries, for whom I had to pull some serious strings to gain access to.

We visited the winery Bruno Giacosa in the afternoon, and while not as polished as the Spinetta visit, we were privately toured around by Francesco: an apprenticing winemaker no more than 25 years old, and I was able to ask him all sorts of deeper questions about fruit sourcing and organics, etc. that I couldn’t rattle off in front of others before. The philosophy and style of the wines were very different – subtle, elegant and refined in comparison to the brute force
and upfront nature of Spinetta. We met the famous viticulturalist at Giacosa (Dante is his first name) and Bruno’s wife, who was the quintessential generous hostess, but very obviously a determined and decisive personality. They were busy arguing with Italian media while we were at a different table and taken through a wide range of wines including a spumante (sparkling), Arneis (intriguing local white varietal), Dolcetto, Barbaresco Asili and a Barolo. Delicious stuff.

We discovered a bit later on that Giacosa seems to not enjoy a good reputation or confidence of many Italians (or at least those we met in the local enotecas). Some of the gruffness we were offered referred to Giacosa’s buying of fruit from growers instead of owning property, and quality issues… Quite shocking resentment given his international reputation.

Today, we visited one of the most important wineries in Italy: Gaja. Located in the heart of the village of Barbaresco, Gaja is an institution. Into their fourth generation of family ownership, Gaja is responsible for creating a cult-like status for high end barolos and barbarescos, whose own wines typically sell for upwards of $400 and older vintages often sell in auctions at Christies or Sotheby’s.

The opportunity to see the establishment was memorable and appreciated, including for the company that we kept along the way. We toured with a wine club of 12 people from Belgium. Very pleasant folks all of them, and we learned through a rather funny conversation about the length of a blue pen that three of the men were retired Pfizer salesmen: think Jake Gyllenhaal in Love & Other Drugs.

A quick lunch at a Barbaresco trattoria included my vegetarian wife ordering a massive plate of meat by accident (not quite as solid on the Italian menu items as she thought) and a local specialty for me: veal raviolis in a butter and sage sauce. Delish.

We returned to the delightful town of Alba afterwards and took advantage of the truly great shopping to find my wife some fantastic new shirts and accessories. Love the authentic shopping in Alba and shared my enthusiasm in French with one of the shop owners.

Afterwards it was back to the guesthouse in Barolo and then for a quick and delicious pizza up the hill in La Morra. Just what we wanted: something simple and easy. Funnily, we’ve found that everyone here wants you to dine the Michelin way as often as possible. Our hosts in Barolo continue to recommend Michelin starred restaurants at every opportunity, and all the tourists we meet (including the Belgians) revel in dining at them routinely. I don’t get it. Sure, they’re the best offerings of food in the region, but you pay accordingly at upwards of 200 euro per person. And they’re not representative of the local offerings – the residents never eat there, and the meals are never short of 2 hours. We had a Michelin star meal in Florence and yes, it was good, but not necessarily the best bang for buck on the trip so far. We’ve enjoyed the more authentic, spontaneous and simple meals in Barolo, much to the dismay of our hosts.

Tomorrow we are off to Paris to begin the French half of our trip via Milan suburban airport Malpensa. We will do a drive-by of Torino and stop for lunch, before heading to Milan. We are flying Easyjet which is one of those low-cost airlines…. Can’t wait to report to you how that experience goes. If successful, I’ll report to you from Paris tomorrow night and I’ll have my wife and luggage nearby. Here’s hoping!

Beyond beautiful, this region is truly majestic. I had no understanding of this region beforehand, so no expectations, and I have become entirely enamoured. We can’t understand why it isn’t more well-known and visited by millions, but rest assured we have no issues reveling in the privacy!

The sweeping hillside and views from our ultra-modern, 9-room guesthouse never cease to amaze us. And despite the overcast conditions today (a welcome abbreviation in the 30C weather throughout the trip so far) we remain breathless.

We took it fairly easy today, driving 35 km to the town of Alba. It is a delightful little town, reminiscent of Whistler, but quite a bit bigger. A main promenade features attractive shops with Italian clothing (more of what I’d expected to see in Florence), wine and several cafes and restaurants.

Seeking simpler food (and not one of the ultra-luxe 18 Michelin star restaurants in this little town – Canada has none by the way) we visited an ‘eno-cafe’ that was recommended by our fantastic guesthouse hosts. There we had a delicious and simple pasta lunch in its brick-walled cellar room, along with some Barbera d’Asti. Afterwards we walked the town and remarked at how enjoyable of a place it is.

Afterwards we drove to Asti, about 20 km further down the highway. Asti is far less remarkable, much more rustic and workmanlike, and without exiting the car we soon left to head back to our accommodations for a relaxing evening.

Tonight we’re considering dinner in the nearby village of La Morra, but have two bottles of Moscato d’Asti in our fridge and some great food options prepared by our hosts. Ah, decisions, decisions…

As always, click the pics for bigger versions!

Saturday we left Florence to head to northwestern Italy and the region of Piemonte, home of the coveted and ultra expensive white truffle, and world famous wine regions like Barolo, Barbaresco and Asti. The region itself is rather unknown outside of food-and-wine-geek land, but to us wine lovers it is a Mecca on par with Bordeaux, the Douro or Burgundy.

Indeed the genesis of this entire Italian adventure can be summarized by a dinner my wife and I shared at Araxi in Whistler in November. One of the eight courses was a poached egg over gnocchi and covered in shaved Alba white truffles and paired with a 1999 Barolo. Incredibly simple – a handful of ingredients – but entirely blew our minds. We determined then that we must visit this region. So here we are!

The drive itself was not entirely fun; fast roads, lots of tunnels and quick turns, and moderate traffic. It was also about 4 hours long. Three quarters of the way there we stopped in Genoa which is a curious and large port city that caters to transient tourists like us, as well as lots and lots of shipping. Nothing really engaging to speak of; a bustling and disorganized city crammed against steep hills by the Mediterranean Ocean – but a welcome opportunity to see another city, eat a quick pizza and get back on the road again.

Once finally off the main highway and navigating closer to Barolo (evidenced by the signs) things started to get exciting. Thick, old vines in the vineyards hinted at what was to come, but our jaws truly dropped once we came over a rise and saw the vista of the Barolo valley before us, literally hundreds of acres of vineyard within eyesight and dotted by 17th century castles and little towns with soaring cathedrals. We’d been on the road for hours, and very near our guesthouse, but we couldn’t cease stopping to take pictures.

The guesthouse was worth arriving at, however, as it is itself perched perfectly on a hillside, overlooking this expanse of perfection.

The property, only open since November of last year, is called Palas Cerequio and is owned by winery namesake Michele Chiarlo. Cerequio is the name of the vineyard surrounding the guesthouse and is shared by some of the top names in Barolo: Chiarlo, Gaja, Pio Cesare, and a couple others. The wines bearing the name Cerequio are all over a hundred dollars per bottle so sleeping amongst the vines is obviously quite a treat.

Our first night, we unpacked and then got a tour of the guesthouse by operators Roberto and Jayne Stroppiana. We ordered a bottle of 1998 Michele Chiarlo Cerequio Barolo, made from the vines 20 feet away, and enjoyed some pasta and a cheese plate as the sun majestically set on the 30C day. Not a bad life, we thought, and how lucky we sometimes are.

Thursday we made the trip from the guesthouse near Castello di Brolio in Tuscany, to our swank hotel in central Florence.

It was an easy drive; turned out to be quite spectacular really, since we purposefully deviated away from the ‘fastest’ route recommended by our GPS and took in some beautiful Tuscan panoramas as we drove across hilltops in the bright sun and blue skies.

Who knew? The main route cuts through the valleys and mature Tuscan forests, while the more westerly route that we chose for our departure seemed to somehow connect peaks, hundreds of meters above.

The entire trip was about 2 hours. All told the distance was only about 80 kilometers. I joked with my wife that the area we’d driven – Florence to Brolio, Brolio to Siena, Brolio to Florence, was within the greater Calgary city limits, and I’m probably not far off.

Everything went smoothly. Our sat-nav was a lifesaver. Plugging in GPS coordinates reliably got you home in the dark. Somehow the device could navigate through what we thought were irrelevant little back roads in rural Italy. Priceless! Until we got to Florence…

Florence is a maze of tightly packed one way streets and roundabouts and dead ends. Designed hundreds of years ago, the streets were clearly not meant for cars. Scooters, pedestrians and aggressive taxi drivers compete for every square foot. It’s a bit of a nightmare.

Upon entering the city core, which is a river with several bridges and the aforementioned crazy streets, our nav finally failed us. It tried to send us across a one way bridge the wrong way, and from that point on I was proactively skeptical. It was a bit dicey for the next 20 minutes as we could see our destination on the nav screen, but couldn’t get to it! After some persistence, crafty turning and driving on a sidewalk or two, we finally made it. I handed the keys to the very surprised concierge, who couldn’t believe we made it all the way to the hotel, and told them I didn’t want to see the car again until check out. They happily obliged.

Our hotel, the JK Place hotel on piazza Santa Maria Novella, is a sparkling boutique hotel with tiny but opulent rooms and excellent service. Great location too. After checking in we planted ourselves on the hotel’s piazza terrace and drank our complimentary prosecco and dined on Caprese Salad and handmade raviolis. It was an evening well deserved.

That night we dined at our first Michelin starred restaurant, the Ora d’Aria. The style of the food was modern takes on traditional Tuscan fare, and my wife and I both indulged in the 6 course seafood tasting menu. The food was indeed excellent and very creative. Fish soup with seaweed and salmon roe; fried ravioli with a chili sauce, seafood ragu with cod, squid, shrimp and perfectly cooked octopus, a consommé with micro squids… All very good. The service left a little to be desired, but we are learning that it was more typically Italian than poor unto itself. Apparently waiting 20 minutes is appropriate here.

On Friday, we visited the Uffizi – one of Europe’s most celebrated museums, featuring timeless pieces back as far as the 12th century, Roman sculptures from 100AD and onwards, and incredible works by Renaissance masters including Michelangelo, Raphael and Rembrandt. But my favorites by far were from 16th century icon Botticelli. The museum had many of his pieces, covering the majority of his 40 year life and 30 year career, and it was very interesting to chart his stylistic maturation, not to mention the sheer perfection of his painting.

In the afternoon we checked out the Giardino di Bobboli which was the vast garden of the Medicis, former rulers of Florence in the 1500s. It covers several dozen acres behind the Palazzo Pitti, the Medicis’ enormous palace. Beyond a quaint rose garden, the property was in a shocking state of disrepair, looking more like a natural forest scene than a finely tuned garden, which left us disappointed. I would recommend you save your 10 Euros and avoid this attraction if you happen to be in Florence.

Saturday morning, before leaving for Piemonte, we dropped in on the church of Santa Maria Novella, which our hotel faced. I’d noted that a few of the 500 year old paintings in the Uffizi had depicted the church, which was very cool indeed. So we thought we’d check it out. And boy was it amazing. Again, many dozens of frescoes, huge canvases by prominent Italian artists, and mind blowing stained glass – much of which was created in the 1200′s when the church was built.

One interesting thing I noted was how devoted to shopping the central city core is, and the Las Vegas-like sprawl of side by side high end boutique shops like Gucci, Fendi, Tiffany, Burberry, Armani, and others. There was nothing unique or proprietary about most of the shops, which was quite a deviation from the saturation of unique churches and museums.

One such scheme was our Vancouver – Frankfurt – Florence trip aboard Lufthansa (more on them later). It was to my thinking the most efficient way we could get to Tuscany, but a painfully long day once all was said and done. We departed Vancouver at 4:00 pm on Monday, and after a 9 hour flight to, and 4 hour layover in, Frankfurt, and then a 1 hour flight and 2 hour drive (plus the 8 hour time difference) we arrived in Tuscany at approximately 8:00 pm on Tuesday. All told we put in an actual 32-hour day considering when we woke up Monday and finally went to bed on Tuesday. Thank goodness my wife convinced me to have a couple of quick naps… Despite the sleep dep and jet lag I didn’t feel too bad, though next time I would prefer to skip the 4 hour Frankfurt layover given a chance. Pain-Ful! Who knew Frankfurt, one of the world’s 10 busiest airports, moving 50 million people annually, would have such a disinteresting and dated airport? And Florence’s airport is surprisingly small, with infrequent service, so the layover was pretty much our only option.

Alas it was well worth the effort! Tuscany is beautiful. Rolling hills mix interestingly dense forests (never knew Tuscany had these) with sprawling vineyards and they are dotted with historic castles dating back hundreds of years. Cities like Siena and Florence have smallish towns like Gaiole in Chianti and Abrezzo in between, and all feature narrow cobble stone streets and classic stone and mortar edifices with tiled roofs.

The wineries aren’t as visible as I’d expected. When you visit the Okanagan valley, or Napa in California, the wineries are densely situated and visiting one means you can easily drop in next door. Thus a full day of tasting can take place within a few kilometers. But we’ve been in Tuscany for a day now and along the vast horizons I’ve yet to see any vineyards beyond that of our host company’s, nor any road signs directing me to look elsewhere. I know they’re out there, I just haven’t seen any!

Our host for this quick visit is Barone Ricasoli, one of the oldest family-owned wineries in the world and the inventors of Chianti wine. We have a room in their quaint little guest house (Agresto) surrounded by Sangiovese vines and under the supervision of the Ricasoli family’s majestic 12th century Castello (castle). The Castello di Brolio is breathtaking (see picture 2), not only in its size, but it’s historical significance. Witness to, and participant in, medieval wars between Siena and Florence (when Italy was made up of individual city-states) and even a German stronghold during World War 2, there are visible scars from fires and artillery throughout the outer fortified walls. The family keeps an extensive museum of artifacts including an armory which is fascinating.

The winery is a mixture of history and modernity, with traditional brick and mortar walls intermixed with steel staircases and seamless glass partitions. This symbolizes the family’s dedication to combining tradition with innovation, a trait found in their wines as well. Great wines, I must say, and a pleasure to taste them on the grounds from which they are born and to be described by the family who makes them.

Tomorrow we drive to Florence. Home of Michelangelo’s David and countless museums and galleries. Looking forward to it, but breathing in every second of ‘now’ that I can. Don’t want to get too far ahead of myself: despite my travel fatigue, where we are ain’t so bad really.

Click pics for bigger versions…