A Stefan Klopp Weblog

The Palio di Siena is a horse race that is run twice a year in the Italian city of Siena. I attended the race with Jason this year. Before the trip (really before even getting to Siena) my knowledge of the race was really limited. All I knew was that a bunch of horses raced around the outside of the Piazza in Siena and that the spectators stood in middle. After getting to Siena I realized there was so much more to the event.

We arrived in Siena by bus from Florence in the early afternoon of the Saturday before the race (the race is run on the Sunday). From there we took a city bus out to where we were staying. Our friend Berenice who lives in Siena runs one of nicest bed and breakfast/villas in Siena. She was kind enough to let us stay with her during for the weekend. On our bus ride out to the farm we got into conversation with a girl from Brazil, who as luck would have it, was staying at Berenice’s place as well. So we all went together to the Villa.

We arrived to the Villa to find Berenice waiting patiently for us. I was literally blown away when I saw the complex. The Villa Cavaglioni is absolutely stunning. It is essentially a mansion made out of a 14th century fortress situated on the top of a hill overlooking the beautiful Tuscan farms below. I really felt like royalty being able to stay in such a lovely accommodation.

After we had cleaned up we met Berenice for lunch. At which time she gave us the full run down on the event. The first thing she told us was this was not a tourist festival. Not to say there wasn’t going to be lots of tourists there, but the event was put on for the people of Siena, and was an event for the people of Siena. The race dates back to the 16th century, so it is an event that is deeply rooted in the culture of Siena. Berenice went over the history of the event, what it meant to people of Siena, the schedule for the following two days, and finally how we should act during the Palio. It was really great to have a local guide to give us so much information on the event, as it really gave a new perspective on things.

So that afternoon we went back to Siena where we caught the rehearsal of the race. There was a lot of people in the Piazza just for the rehearsal, and you could really feel the excitement from the locals. There was singing and chanting and dancing. Enemy contradas would sing songs back and forth to each other.

After the rehearsal (in which 3 riders fell off their horses), Berenice left us as she was to attend her contradas great dinner. Every contrada has a big dinner for all their members the night before the race. The members get to eat and drink with each other, see their jockey and horse, and discuss their chances for the next days race. During this time we found a lovely restaurant where Jason and myself finally found ourselves a Florentine Steak. After finding some gelato we called it a night as we knew the next day would be a very full day.

The morning of the race we head into the city and did a bit of sightseeing. We started by exploring the ancient streets of Siena and in doing so getting ourselves a little lost. Whichever part of the city you were in you would see flags flying from the contrada of that specific section of the city.

Eventually we found our way to the Cathedral of Siena. Inside the cathedral we found more flags from all the contradas. It was interesting to see these flags in the cathedral where you would normally expect to see only Christian parchments.

We then decided to get a little lunch before all the excitement started. So we found a pizza place we noticed the night before as having a really long lineup, and decided to try it out. The pizza was cheap and good, a combination I generally like. After our lunch we headed back into the Eagle contradas territory to catch the parade. Berenice said this was the best place to see the parade as this was the last section of the city that the parade route took before entering the Piazza. It was also the closest place to be to get into the Piazza after the parade.

We watched the parade literally from the doorsteps of the Eagle contrada house. So every contrada that would pass the house would pay their respects in some form or other to the contrada. It was really incredible the level of detail that was put into the costumes and outfits everyone was wearing.

I think my favourite part of the parade however was the flag tossers. They would march down these narrow streets swinging their flags around, nearly taking the heads off of people watching the parade. If that wasn’t enough they would then proceed to toss their flags up to their partners and catch them right before they plunged into the crowds. It was amazing the level of dexterity these men showed. I made a short video of some flag tossers as they passed by us.

After the parade had finished we hurried into the Piazza to get a good spot. We wanted to be in an area where we could see the track alright, but also be close enough to the exit so that right after the race we could run to catch our bus. In typical Jason fashion we had booked a flight out early the next morning from Pisa. For us to be able to make that flight we had to make it back to Florence that night. The last bus of the day left Siena at 8:45pm. With the race set to start at 7pm we thought we would have enough time. However after talking to Berenice we didn’t feel to confident. She told us that while the race was suppose to start at 7pm, it most likely wouldn’t. Regardless we thought we would risk it, and finally found ourselves a decent spot in the Piazza among the 50,000 other spectators.

As it turns out Berenice was right on the money. While the horses entered the track roughly around 7pm, the race didn’t start. The horses would line up together then fall back then line up again. Apparently during this time the members of contradas are making secret pacts against other contradas, bribes are made, and overall the jockeys are just trying to control their horses. What was most incredible about this part of the event was that everyone was dead silent. a good 75,000+ people all completely silent waiting to hear the announcer tell the order of the horses. You could really feel the anticipation building.

Eventually the race started. Or so we thought. Seconds after the horses bolted, there was a big bang, and all the horses slowed to a trot and made their way back to the starting line. That was the first false start. So again the horses lined up. The began jockeying for position, and again the waiting game started. There was several times during this setting up of the horses along the line where two jockeys got into physical fights, whipping each other and each others horses, and yelling out profanities.

The crowd was still in good spirits, but slowly getting a bit restless. The horses and riders however just continued to line up, then fall back again. At this point I was beginning to get a bit worried. It was already past 8pm, and while the race only lasts roughly 3 mins, at the rate this buildup was happening, I started to have doubts we would make our bus. Then the horses took off again… but yet again it was another false start.

At this point people really started to get restless, and started to yell and chant more at the riders. Also at this point I was on the verge of giving up on us catching the bus out of town. However just as I was losing all hope the race started, and it was clean. The waiting was finally over, and the race was on. Then it was done. That quick. 2 minutes and it was over. We had waited in the Piazza a good 3+ hours for a 2 minute horse race. It was exciting. Actually it was very exciting. 2 riders during one of the hairpin turns were flung from their horses. The ultimate winner of the race was the Civetta contrada (owl). The Owl had now won the Palio in since 1979 so this was a very huge victory for them. Their members were all in tears of joy. On the other side of the spectrum was the Onda contrada (wave) who were the enemies of the Owl. Members of Onda went running out of the piazza as fast as possible after the race. When people would get in their way they were at times mildly violent in getting through the crowd to get back home.

At this point in time it was probably 8:30pm. We had 15 minutes to get from the crowded piazza to the bus station. Easy right? Well when you have no map and are surrounded by 50,000 other people trying to get out of the piazza it becomes more difficult. Me and Jason bolted almost as quickly as the Onda members, and made our way out of the Piazza relatively quick. We then doubled back and forth through the streets of Siena trying to find our way back to the bus station, but also via a quick not too traffic route. However in doing so we got ourselves lost again, and actually ended up at the church of the Owl contada. The church has significance as it is the place where they bring the victory painting to after the race to celebrate. We had actually beaten most of the contrada members to their own church. However this was bad news for us as we had to backtrack against a torrent of people rushing up the church.

So we doubled back and ran through the crowd. Nothing like running against the grain. It was fun in a way as we got to see the excitement and joy in all the peoples faces as they marched up the church. We even got to see the people carrying the victory painting.

Finally we found our way back onto the right path and headed up towards the bus station. By this point it was well past 8:45pm. There was a train that left at 9;15pm but the station was a taxi ride away, and there wasn’t a taxi in site. So we ran to the bus station in hope they held the bus until after the race.

We arrived to find a full bus waiting for any last passengers. Literally 1 minute after we boarded the bus, it departed. What a rush. I think the run after the race was more exciting and got my adrenalin pumping even more than the actual race did. We HAD to catch that bus, and I can’t believe we actually did. So that is the end of the story. We made it to Florence, and then later in the night to Pisa. It was an incredible day, with lots of excitement and an experience I won’t soon forget.

Here are a few additional photos from Siena. Also if you are looking for another good review of the Palio in August checkout: http://taryninitalia.blogspot.com/2009/08/il-palio-di-siena.html.

No long story for Italy like for Croatia. However a little back story to fill you in. Jason and myself left Croatia on my birthday bright and early in the morning. We took a bus into Trieste, where we then caught a train to Venice. We spent my birthday in Venice feeling a little tired from our weekend in Croatia. The next day Jason departed for England to see Pearl Jam, while traveled on to Verona for a few days. We finally met up in Florence for a night there, before heading off to Siena for the Palio di Siena (which will get it’s own blog entry). Here are a few photos from that time in Italy. Due note I was working during this time of my trip, which somewhat limited my exploration ability!

Venice:

Verona:

Archway into Verona:

View from lunch:

Jason in Florence holding David:

Despite getting screwed by Avis and CarRentals.com Jason and myself carried forth with our initial plans to drive up the coast of Croatia in our rental to Zadar. We would then travel east to visit the Plitvice Lakes, before heading back north one again to reach our final destination of Rijeka, where we planned to spend a few days with our friend Sid.

Our route took us initially through Bosnia and Herzegovina, then back into Croatia. Once we passed back into Croatia the coast got absolutely gorgeous. High cliff-side roads overhanging the Adriatic Sea. We stopped in at random villages and towns exploring as we went. One village were we broke for lunch at, lacked any roads into the town so Jason and myself packed our lunch and hiked down into the town. Everyone in the town must have known each other, because when we walked down by the water, we got a bunch of peculiar looks. The people were just curious though, and when they saw we were just looking for a place to have lunch, went back to whatever they were doing (mainly frolicking in the water).

One of the next villages we stopped at was a little more touristy, and we were able to get our daily gelato. It dawned on me here what a major role the water played in the lives of Croatians. It appeared the life of each town was found along the water, and when you have such a beautiful sea, it makes a lot of sense.

We eventually made our way up to Split, where we initially had planned to spend the night. Split was a much larger city than either of us had anticipated, and Jason was having troubles finding parking and navigating the narrow roads. We eventually found a place to leave the car and did a little exploring. The old part of the city really reminded me of Seville in Spain, but not as nice. We had dinner in Split and caught the sunset, and then decided to drive a few more miles north before calling it a day.

Finally we stopped in a town called Trogir. Trogir was a wonderful little town that had a lot of the charms that Dubrovnik had, just a lot smaller. We were able to get the last two beds at Hostel Trogir, and after showering and settling in, we hit the town. We had a few drinks in the main square, then found this fantastic open air bar. It was situation within the city walls, so it was like being in an ancient tavern, however the building had no roof or ceiling, so you could look up to the stars while drinking your beer. It was really quite spectacular.

The next morning we left Trogir amid a massive traffic jam. Took us nearly an hour to move 10km. Finally we got outside the city however and were able to get moving. We cruised inland for a while and got to see the agricultural side of Croatia before heading back to the coast, on route to Zadar. We made it to Zadar by noon, filled up on gas, and headed inland towards the great lakes of Plitvice.

We arrived at the lakes to find a mass of people. This was definitely one of the major tourist destinations of Croatia. We paid the the entrance fee and made our way onto the path leading to the lake. Half way to the lakes I realized I was going to have a hard time enjoying it. The paths we were walking on were packed with people. You essentially were herded around the lakes with everyone else. No time to take in the beauty, or simply enjoy the environment you were in. It was a shame really. I imagine if you came early in the morning it would likely be a lot better, however what we experienced was not all that enjoyable. With that said the lakes themselves were very pretty. Someday it would be nice to visit during a less busy time of the year.

We finally hit the road again on route for Rijeka. In typically Jason fashion he was coming as a surprise to Sid. So when we finally arrived we parked the car a good 2 blocks away, and I went off to find Sid. After finding her, I told her I had to get my stuff from the car, so we walked back to our car. Jason was rummaging through the trunk when I brought Sid. As I got close to the car I told Sid, “So Sid, I have a surprise for you…”, Sid responded, “What Jason?” Then started to laugh, only to realize a moment after I had brought Jason!

We spent 3 days in Kastav (where Sid lives close to Rijeka). I wish I could tell you they were packed with sightseeing. Rather it was 3 days of a lot of alcohol, good food, and great company. I realized during this weekend that Croatians, really know how to have a good time. We did have a chance to briefly checkout the town of Kastav, and spent our last day on the beach, which was the perfect way to relax before heading off again.

All in all it was a wonderful trip. I wish like i often do, that I had more time to explore, to get off the beaten path, and to see the more hidden parts of the country, but I shall leave that for another trip, as I will be sure to return. A special thanks to Sid for making our last 3 days extremely memorable, and for taking car of us. Especially when we were in an inebriated states such as this:

After spending a lovely 2 days in Dubrovnik it was time for Jason and myself to leave, and head north. Our plan was to drive up the coast of Croatia in a rental car as far north as Zadar. We would then travel east to visit the Plitvice Lakes, before heading back north one again to reach our final destination of Rijeka, where we planned to spend a few days with our friend Sid.

Leaving Dubrovnik proved more difficult than anticipated. We had rented our car at the airport, as Jason found a ‘too good to be true’ rate on carrentals.com (it really was too good to be true). We tried to find a bus back to the airport, but in the end settled for a taxi. We arrived at the airport around 10:30am and made our way to the Avis pickup desk. Inside the pickup kiosk we found an aging Croatian rental agent sitting behind a desk looking a bit destitute. Beside him stood his young ridiculously tall helper (probably stood a good 6′6). After Jason gave his details to the rental agent, the agent frowned and told us he had given away our car. Since he had no flight no for us, and we hadn’t arrived when we said we would (we said we would arrive at 10am), he gave our car away.

Working in the car rental industry I know agencies often overbook their vehicles. So already I knew he had just given our car away at a higher rate to someone else. He did say if we waited he would have a smaller car for us. At least we were getting a car, as it appeared the entire airport was sold out.

As I waited in the now glaring heat, Jason finished up the contract. As he was going over the rate with the agent I noticed Jason getting a little upset. I checked in to see what was the problem. It appeared that the rate Avis had was dramatically different than the rate we were quoted.

Jason had booked the reservation at carrentals.com. Initially when we had been looking for a car the best rates I could find were around $60-80 a day. However a few times while searching, Jason had found rates on carrentals.com for roughly $18 a day. I told him to book that rate if he saw it again, as it was an excellent price. So when the rate showed up again, Jason booked it.

Now back to the story. So here we are standing in the blaring heat, with a rental confirmation in hand stating our rental rate of $18 a day, confirmed. The agent looking in his computer sees a rate of 80 Euros per day for our reservation. We argue that we have a confirmed rate, and we show him the confirmation. He looks to his giant of a partner and laughs saying, “Maybe where you are from you can get rental for $18 a day, here in Croatia, not possible.”

It was obvious this guy couldn’t do anything for us. He has the rate in his computer, and that is what he is going by. So I suck it up, and swallow the $5 a minute charge for calling on my cell in Europe and call up Avis. After bouncing around their call tree, I finally get a person on the line. I tell him our details and that the agent isn’t honoring our rate. He looks up the reservation details, and confirms, the rate they have for us is 80 Euros a day, for a total of 332 Euros.

I hang up after realizing I was going nowhere on the phone. Then look down at our confirmation email again. Confirmed rate of $66.94 USD or 332 Croatian Kunas. Then it dawned on me. Obviously somewhere in the connection between CarRentals.com and Avis there was a mistake in currencies. Either Avis sent the wrong currency, or CarRentals.com translated the wrong currency. Regardless the rate that CarRentals.com showed on their website should have been in Euros instead of in Kunas.

Having wasted enough time, and feeling a bit handcuffed we decided to take the car. It was clear this sales agent had no power, and was unwilling to honor our confirmed rate. So we decided we would deal with the issue when we got back to Canada.

As we were leaving the rental kiosk I noticed on the wall a poster from Avis with the last line saying, “we can’t afford to take you for granted….” oh the irony.

Followup

As it stands right now Jason has been in contact with Avis. They claim the issue has nothing to do with them, and that responsibility lies 100% with CarRentals.com. However they will not provide any contact details for their partner. CarRentals.com has been completely silent and have not answered any form of contact. Jason has in the meantime canceled the charge on his Visa, however it is very likely that it will be put back, as he accepted the charges at the rental counter (with no other alternative we were basically forced to take the car).

So as it seems Avis really doesn’t try harder, and carrentals.com doesn’t respect their customers. Keep this in mind next time you are booking a car.

Croatia was never really a country that was on my radar in terms of places to visit, mainly because I really didn’t know a lot about it. However a few years while in a hostel in Malaga, Spain when I asked a French Canadian couple what country was their favorite from their European trip, they both said resoundingly, Croatia. They went on to tell me about the city of Dubrovnik and how wonderful it was, and then went on to tell me about the rest of Croatia. This stuck with me, and made me want to someday see this great walled city, and the rest of Croatia. Later on that trip during Oktoberfest I made friends with a Croatia girl named Sidonja, which gave me even more reason to goto Croatia.

So a few years later, I find myself with an unplanned Europe trip. The only commitment I have is to attend Regis and Johanna’s wedding. Apart from that everything was quite open. So I emailed Sid and asked if she would like a visitor in Croatia. When she told me she would love to have me, it was enough reason for me to put Croatia in my plans for this European trip.

When I told Jason of my plans he wanted to join in. He was thinking of going to Italy for the Palio di Siena, which would fit in nicely with a visit to Croatia due to the close proximity to Italy. We agreed to meet in Dubrovnik, and make our way north via rental car (another story in itself). So I arrived at the airport to find Jason waiting patiently for my flight to arrive. He had arrived an hour earlier from Zagreb where he had flown into the night before from Montreal. It was good to see my oft travel buddy again, and to take on a new adventure.

From the airport we took a bus into the city. The drive already got my excitement level up. We drove on a single lane road that was winding its way across cliff bluffs overlooking the Adriatic. When we turned one of the final corners and the city of Dubrovnik was there before us, I was blown away at how magnificent the city is.

We got out of our bus, and with a little help from my GPS we found where we were suppose to meet the lady who was renting us an apartment room. A few buzzes on her buzzer without any answer, forced us to have a beer and wait. Tough. An hour later, I decided to call her. She was busy, and came to find us. She showed us a smallish little apartment that was right in the heart of the old city, overlooking Stradun, Dubrovnik’s main street. In her broken English our hostess showed us on a map all the places to go, and the ones to avoid. “You go here 50 kuna beers, but if you go here, 15 kuna beers. I don’t know about you, but I like 15 kuna beers.”. As she parted she had 1 final rule to follow, “No sex parties.”, She then pointed at me and said, “You, girl”, then pointed to Jason and continued, “You OUT!”. She then repeated the rules however outlining what would happen if Jason had a girl; and yes, I was “OUT!”.

So over the next 2 days armed with the advice from our hostess we explored the city of Dubrovnik and all it had to offer. We drank cappuccinos in side streets with locals, had shots of slivovitch listening to live blues, watched a marching band parade up and down Stradun from our apartment window. We walked for hours around the city walls, ate squid ink risotto, and swam in the Adriatic. We partied with hundreds locals in a back alley, watched the daily lightning light up the night sky, and had drinks in a hidden tavern.

I had really high hopes for Dubrovnik before my trip, which is often a recipe for disappointment. In this case however, the city of Dubrovnik not only met my expectations, but far surpassed anything I had imaged. I will someday have to return to this lovely walled city on the sea.

I have posted a few of my favorite photos from my time in Dubrovnik. Hope you enjoy them!

As you may or may not have known, I spent the last 3+ weeks in Europe. The main purpose of this trip was to visit my cousin (or is it kleincousin?) Johanna, and attend her wedding to her love Regis. Now I have technically known Johanna since I was about 5. We were at a relatives 25th anniversary and we sat together at the children’s table. Johanna didn’t speak any English and the only German I knew was Du bist blöd, which basically means “you are stupid”. So as 5 year olds go, I called my cousin stupid, and she would respond with something similar, and on goes the story. What a lovely first encounter.

I really hadn’t gotten to know Johanna until I was 21, when she came to Canada for a visit. She came during the summer, during a time when I was unemployed due to the dot com crash. Since I had no job, I was able to tour around with her quite a bit and get to know her a little more. Since then we kept in touch, and every time I visit Europe I do my best to visit with her.

So back to the main story. I came to Europe to attend the wedding, and was going to do a bit of touring afterwards. I packed a light camera bag with a couple 2 somewhat wide lenses and a 50mm prime. Good lenses for touristy pictures. At the wedding I hadn’t planned on taking many photos. Usually weddings have photographers hired, and every guest tends to have a camera. So I decided I would leave my camera in my hotel room.

German weddings have 2 parts. The first ceremony which is the state wedding which takes place at the town hall usually, then the second church wedding, well … in a church. So I headed off to the town hall, with nothing but my cellphone for the odd snap or video. As I expected everyone had a camera, and everyone was taking loads of photos. I felt relived that I made the right choice; or so I thought. After the first ceremony, after congratulating Johanna, she said to me with a very stern and serious look, “Why are you not taking any photos?”. I told her my rant on how everyone was shooting, which she replied, “I want you to take our photos.”

So it was settled. When I got back to my hotel room, I grabbed my camera bag, and thought, for Johanna I will take some photos. So during the church ceremony, I snapped off some shots, and continued to do so outside the church after the wedding. I got a few good shots here and there, thinking nothing more of it. However after a short gathering after the church ceremony, it was time for couples photos. Up until this point one of Johanna & Regis’s friends had been shooting a lot of their photos. So I had assumed he was their unofficial photographer. When it was time to take the couple photos however, Johanna grabbed me by my arm, and told me to come along too. She wanted me to take their photos as well. I am sure there is some sort of rule about saying no to a bride on her wedding day, so I agreed and went off with them in their Mercedes to take photos.

For the rest of the day I proceeded to act as the alternate photographer for the wedding. Taking shots of whatever I could. Since this was a bit of a surprise to be shooting the wedding, I didn’t really have time to prepare, so I just flat out winged it. As for the results? I am relatively happy with some of the shots I got. I think I probably would have been able to get a lot nicer shots if I had prepared for the day, however for a first time I am satisfied. Anyway let me know what you think of the shots. Most were shot with my 50mm f/1.4 lens. A couple I used my wide angles. Below are some of my favorite shots of the day. Oh and congratulations to Johanna and Regis!

During my stay in Montreal this past July I wanted to make a point of visiting some new poutine places in my ever ongoing search for the Best Poutine in Montreal, something I started the year prior. This years search almost didn’t happen due to me getting sick. I wouldn’t let my little gastrointestinal problems stop me, as the day before I flew off to Germany (and the first day I started feeling good) I went out on an excursion to find the best poutine in Montreal.

Now I must first preface this and say I had a warm-up poutine my first weekend in Quebec on route to a chalet in small town Quebec, and a second warm-up poutine at a fancy restaurant in Montreal. All the other poutines were ingested on the Sunday, with my tasting crew of Jason, Tatiana and Vanessa.

Alright enough jibber jabber, onto the results!

Casse-Croute Chez Mon’Oncle Emile

Located on the side of the road in the small town of Saint-Gabriel, this little take away restaurant provided me with my first poutine of the year. I had high expectations as my Brother and his Wife both told me the best poutine in Quebec was to be found in places little take aways like this.

On first inspection the poutine looked really good; very clean fresh cut fries, lots of cheese curds, and a good serving of gravy. But did it pass the test? Lets see what people thought:

End result? The poutine was average. Yes my Nephew and his friend scarfed theirs down in probably 30 seconds or less, but that is likely more attributed to their hunger than the taste of the poutine. So why so average despite the initial good impressions? It was just kind of bland. The gravy wasn’t overly tasty, the cheese curds were not that stringy, and the fries, were nothing special. Don’t get me wrong, the poutine was still good, just nothing amazing.

Au Pied de Cochon

Jason, Tatiana and myself went out for some fine dining in Montreal at the Au Pied de Cochon. It is a happening French restaurant in a cool part of town. We enjoyed a really wonderful meal here, and the fact they had poutine on their menu, made things that much better.

So the poutine they served is a Foie Gras Poutine. At $23 a plate, we decided it was best to share. This was ultimately a good idea as the poutine was quiet large. So what was in the poutine? Basically it was a standard poutine, with a large chunk of Foie Gras placed on top. The gravy used was in the poutine was not typical however. It was more a creamy gravy that was extremely rich in flavor, a bit of a change from your typical beef/vegi stock gravy. I do have to say I thoroughly enjoyed the gravy of this poutine. The cheese curds were of high quality, and overall this was one delicious poutine. My only grips about the poutine was that the taste of the Foie Gras became a little overwhelming, but that could simply be because I don’t normally eat Foie Gras.

Overall this poutine stands near the top of my list!

Rapido

This diner I had wanted to try out the year prior however didn’t get around to it. It is often listed as one of the top places to get poutine in Montreal. One of the big draws for Rapido is that it is open 24/7, so it often turns into the big drunken hangout after for people coming out of the bars looking for a poutine to fill their stomachs with.

Jason, Tatiana and myself tried the standard poutine at Rapidos, and it was another case of looking good, but tasting nothing special. The gravy had a bit of a peculiar taste too it, somewhat of a poultry flavor, and had the consistency of one too (think chicken or turkey gravy). The cheese was extremely melty/stringy, however Tatiana was very concerned that it was not even cheese curds, but rather mozzarella. The taste of the cheese strongly pointed towards this.

So overall this poutine was average. I would likely get a poutine at Frite Alore before hitting up Rapido, but in a pinch their poutine will do.

Fameux Restaurant

Famuex is located right across the street from Rapido, and apparently there is a lot of debate who has the better poutine. In a video podcast from CBC Radio 3, Murray Lightburn, lead singer of the Dears claimed Fameux had the best poutine in Montreal. He swore by their poutine gratinée. Basically gratinée means they put the poutine in the oven, so the cheese is very melted. We had high hopes, thinking the poutine gratinée would be a poutine lasagna of sorts.

We were joined by Vanessa at Famuex, and our high hopes for the gratinée ended in disappointment. We found the poutine gratinée to be a bit dry, had an odd tasting gravy (similar tasting to Rapido oddly enough), and not really making us feel like we were eating a poutine.

Perhaps if they had used more gravy in the poutine it would have tasted better, but from what we got, I can’t say I can recommend this poutine. So Murray Lightburn, while you can write one hell of a song, you sure could use a lesson in good poutines.

Maamm Bolduc

Yes what would a poutine tasting tour of Montreal be without a stop at last years favorite Maamm Bolduc. This was our final stop on the tour as Jason had to get back to work (as poutine chef at Montreal Poutine!). So we marched our way in the pouring rain to Maamm Bolduc. We arrived to find it extremely busy. It took us a little while to get a table, and likewise to actually get served. Finally the waitress realized she totally forgot about us and got to our order.

We order the same meat in wine sauce poutine as I had last time, as well as 1 small regular poutine for Vanessa as she is a vegetarian. Need I tell you what the overall consensus was from everyone?

Best poutine they had ever had, and best in Montreal. I fully agree. The beef wine sauce is of course the favorite. It’s gravy is rich, but not over the top. The meat is tender, and adds to the overall flavor of the poutine. The fries are perfectly cook, clean (a sign that they change their oil), and fresh cut. The cheese curds were of good high quality, and very stringy. What more could you ask for?

Conclusion

Maamm Bolduc is my top choice once again. A few places I really had high hopes for this year, turned out to be average or disappointments. Au Pied de Cochon did provide for a solid challenger for best poutine, however at $23 a plate, and the clashing taste from the Foie Gras, I had to stick with Maamm Bolduc. That is the beauty of the beef wine sauce poutine from Maamm Bolduc. The beef and wine gravy don’t clash with the flavor you expect from a poutine, but rather enhance it. Maybe someday I will find a better poutine, but for now, my Montreal favorite still remains Maamm Bolduc.

So I heard through the grapevine (Facebook) that on Saturday Vancouver had the most amazing mix of sunset, lightning, and fireworks all in one. You can view a bunch of really great photos of the action on Flickr by searching by date for July 25th and ordering by Interestingness:

Vancouver Lightning on Flickr

Also checkout the katkam webam archives for the day of July 25:

Katkam Archives for July 25

So I figured after my last post I needed something a little more positive! So I thought I would outline my travel plans for Europe. Especially since just a few days ago I was considering calling the whole trip off.

So I am now leaving for Europe tomorrow night. I will be arriving into Frankfurt airport in the morning where I will take a train to Berlin to begin my 3 weeks in Europe. The following is an outline of where I will be:

July 28 – 31: Berlin, Germany
July 31 – August 2: Oldenburg, Germany for my cousins wedding
August 2 – 4: Berlin, Germany
August 4 – 6: Dubrovnik, Croatia
August 6 – 8: Driving north up the coast of Croatia in a rental car. Ending in Rijeka where I will visit my friend Sid.
August 8-9: Visiting with Sid in and around her hometown of Kastav.
August 9-14: Venice, Verona, and Florence Italy.
August 15-16: Sienna Italy for Horse race: Palio di Siena
August 17: Depart back to Vancouver

That about sums up my trip. Lots of places I have never been. A few familiar favorites, and not too overloaded. I am really looking forward to getting my appetite back and being able to indulge in many of the fine cuisines of Europe.

Sitting in the back of a car, somewhere between Ottawa and Montreal I feel a chill go through my body and I begin to shiver. The humidity outside is raging, and everyone else in the car is desperate to cool down, yet I reach for my hoody and curl up against the window as my teeth begin to chatter. My brother looks over at me in shock, and asks if everything is alright. I can only muster a whimper of a yes back.

Things however weren’t so alright. We arrive in Montreal. I quickly make my way upstairs to my Brother’s apartment. I try to goto the bathroom. Nothing. My brother brings me a warmer blanket, which I curl up in on my bed and slowly drift off to sleep in.

Panic

I wake from my sleep. I am a covered in sweat. My head is on fire and I am feeling this horrible surge from my body. Few seconds to process, what is it? What is it? Right I know this urge, I have felt it before. I need to through up. Sweat beads are forming on my forehead, I am starting to lose my ability to think. Something inside of me needs to come out. Based on previous experiences I know I have about 20-30 seconds max before I will be keeled over and letting loose. Not enough time to get to the bathroom. Not even close. I quickly scan my bedroom for a vessel. Looking. Anything. My backpack. I quickly dump the contents. Open up the pockets, grab out my passport, money, travel itinerary… The wave is on me, I need to expel what is inside me. I stick my head in my backpack and begin to throw up.

When I am finished the bag is nearly brimming. I have enough strength and wits to tiptoe past a sleeping nephew to the bathroom and dump the bag into the toilet, and throw it into the bathtub. As I do a second waves comes over me. Head in the toilet I let loose again.

As I finish up my second round, my stomach is feeling no less better than when I started. However now I begin to feel a new sensation. My abdomen feels like it is being stabbed by a million knives, and I realize my purge of my system has only just started. I manage to sit myself down on the toilet. Within seconds I am rocked with the most dreadful diarrhea I have had in years. My system is in complete discharge mode.

I finish up in the bathroom. I am weak, and tired. My last 2 days of food now shooting somewhere through the Montreal sewer systems. Channeling my strength I find enough energy and wits in me to rinse out my backpack and hang it on my brothers balcony before I stumble my way back to my bed where I crash.

The rest of the night is a mad feverish dream of little sleep, and many tiptoes to the bathroom, as the diarrhea takes hold of me.

Morning Arrives

I wake. My body is purged and empty of any substance. I wander into the kitchen to be greeted by my brother and wife. When queried how my night was I fill them in on the details. They are shocked that they never woke up once. We start to question what could have caused my sudden sickness. The first thing that pops into all our minds is the food. Ottawa was an extravagant time for my stomach. Two nights in a row I dined on home made Indian cuisine. The second day also featured a Ugandan beef stew and hamburgers. Lots of places to point fingers.

Having a very similar reaction the last time I had food poisoning, I resolved myself into thinking the worst was now over, and it was time to recover.

Tuesday Morning, Still No Change

I wake Tuesday morning. The night was again troubled with another raging fever and constant trips to the bathroom. No longer riddled with nausea, I still find myself with a horrible case of diarrhea. With only 4 days left until my trip to Europe I resolve myself that I need to see a doctor.

I arrive at a walk in clinic a few minutes past noon on Mont Royal. I pay my $50 “I-am-not-Quebecois” fee and begin to wait. I scan the waiting room. Despite the clinic having just opened at noon there are probably a good 7 or 8 people ahead of me. I look around for a tap or a fountain, as I am beginning to get thirsty. There is a water cooler. I get out a cup, turn on the tap. Nothing. The cooler is empty or not working. Damn. I sit back down. My body at this moment is in a state of stasis. An hour roles by, my time has still not come. My mouth has become a desert, and I am in desperate need of water. Dehydration is setting in I can feel it. My head begins to sweat, and that oh too familiar feeling of cold chills begin to set back in. I look nervously around the clinic. Still 3-4 people in front of me. I begin to shake. I try to control it, and keep it to a minimum. A little girl beside me looks at me for a second, then goes back to playing with her mother. I need to see the doctor.

I wait, and wait, and wait. Finally around quarter to one my name is called. I stumble into the doctors office. “Fermer la porte s’il vous plaît” the doctor says to me. I close the door. This was as much French as I was going to be able to handle in my state. I quickly return, “Pardon-moi je ne parle pas les Français”. He looks at me sideways with a bit of a smirk forming on his lips. He replies, “À Montréal, il faut parler français”. Yes I realize in Montreal I should speak French. Thanks. I don’t. I reply again that I do not speak French, and ask nicely if he can speak English? He replies again that in Montreal one must speak French.

At this point I was about to stand up and walk out. I came to a doctor to get help when I am sick, not to be ridiculed for not speaking French. I give it one last try. I tell the doctor in English I am from Vancouver, I am sick, and I need help.

Finally he breaks. He begins the diagnosis. My dehydration is getting worse. At first he doesn’t seem to concerned. Thinking it is likely to be food poisoning as I suspected. Then he does an examination. Checks my temperature. 39.4 degrees Celsius. That is bad. Now the doctor is worried. I can see it in his face. We sit back down at his desk. He looks over his notes. He tells me most food poisoning should have passed, and I shouldn’t have a fever. He thinks I am severely dehydrated, yet he can’t tell me what I might have. Either a bacterial infection or a virus. He thinks I should goto the emergency room at the hospital. He asks what I think? I say this is fine. He writes out a referral and sends me on my way.

The Waiting

I make my way to the emergency section of the hospital. There is a large waiting room that is brimming with people. So much so people are standing in the hallways. This doesn’t look promising. I talk to a receptionist who tells me to sit in a purple chair and wait for a nurse. In the meantime Youki (who at this point has escorted me around from the clinic to the hospital) finds me a bottle of water. It is cold. I start drinking the water, and find the more I drink, the calmer I begin to get. My chills start to get better, and the head begins to cool.

Twenty minutes later, a nurse comes. She takes me into a small room, does some preliminary tests and checks me in. She takes my temperature again. 36.9. She sees the cold bottle of water in my hand and notes that it is likely the cause of my lower reading. I am brought back to the waiting room and am told to wait until I am called. Youki checks with the receptionist and asks how long a wait time it likely will be. 3-4 hours. The receptionists advices us to simply go home and come back in 3 hours or so. So we do.

Back again at around 5pm. The waiting room is filled with the same people I saw 3 hours ago. Their faces are blank and bleak. Having to wait in that room is enough to drive a person mad. We make our way to the nurses booth to let them know I am back, and to check where in line I am. There is a good 11 people in front of me. 1 doctor on duty. 20-30 minutes per person. 3-4 hour wait. This is getting typical. We leave again, this time with the nurses phone number so we can check on my status.

Around 9:30pm we call back and find out there is only 1 person in front of me. Good news. This time Richard is my escort and we make our way down to the hospital. I speak to the nurse to let her know I am there. She says I will be up next. I wait, and wait, and wait. There is a really drunk Hispanic guy now in the waiting room with blood on his forehead silently mumbling to himself. The 10 or 12 people in waiting room quietly watch as the security guard tries to tell him to sit in a purple chair instead of a red chair. He mumbles something incoherent, before resting his head against the wall and falling asleep. On the far side of the room is a heavy set man with a walker. He has a massive growth on the top of his head, which doesn’t seem to phase him. I silently munches on a sandwich from a vending machine. He eats the sandwich as if it is the best food he has ever eaten. A few minutes after finishing his sandwich, he gets up and buys himself a second one.

A little after 11pm I get the call. Stefan Klopp to Salle 7. Another room to wait in. The doctor shows up sometime after 11:30pm. She is a young doctor who had clearly had a long tough day. The bags under her eyes, and the obvious head cold she was battling hide what was clearly a very beautiful French lady.

So asked why I was at the emergency. Then proceeded to diagnose my problems. Like the previous doctor she was unsure if what I had was bacteria or viral. So she wanted me to take some tests. First a blood test, then an xray of my abdomen. First up was taking blood. It is amazing how quickly blood leaves your body when a needle is connected to your vein. I fill two vials of blood, and am then told by the nurse to go to the xray department. I arrive. Put my form in the holder. Knock on the door. Wait. I get called into a dressing room, where the radiologist tells me in French what to do. I tell him I don’t speak French. He says to me, “This is Montreal, we speak French here. I suggest you learn.”. He then goes over what I need to do.

I have my abdomen xrayed. “Don’t breath… … Breath.”. “Don’t breath… … Breath”. OK Mr Klopp you are done.

I make my way back to the nurses reception. She tells me that I need to wait for my blood test results to come back before the doctor will be able to discuss further. Back to the waiting room I go. It is a little past midnight now. My brother looks tired. There is only so long a person can wait in a emergency waiting room and be able to keep their spirits up. He was trooping it out for me.

It is now past 1am and I haven’t been called back. I go back in and find the doctor. She tells me she hasn’t gotten back the results yet, and is wondering why. I think I am her last patient. She calls the lab. Looks like they forgot to send my results back to them. They post them up on my file. The doctor looks over my blood work and xrays then takes me back to the examining room.

My blood work looks find. Xrays look normal for someone with diarrhea. To know what I have they need to take a stool sample. However stool samples take 5 days minimum to process. She leaves the room. Comes back. Then leaves again. She says if I can get a stool sample to her now, or in the morning she might be able to have it processed before I leave. Great. I go to the bathroom, and fill the vials for the doctor. That is one problem I don’t have.

She says she can’t guarantee the results will be back, however wants me to book an appointment with a followup doctor for Friday. She gives me a number to call, and tells me to insist on an appointment. She then disappears with no further advice. We go home, and are in bed sometime after 2am.

Friday Checkup

Wednesday morning I call the number I am suppose to call. Apparently they are suppose to open at 8:30am. I get an pre-recorded message in French. I hand the phone to Youki. The office is closed today. Great.

Thursday up early again. Call at 8:30am. New message. “Our offices are open from 8:30am to 12pm, please call back again” it said in French. Humm. I proceed to call back every 5 minutes or so. Same message. Sometime after 10am the message changes. I pass the phone to my nephew. He says it has something to do with cards or something. I call again. Same message. This time I hang on the phone a minute… I am put on hold. Bingo. I talk to the receptionist, she books me in for Friday morning at 8:45am. I am set.

I get to the hospital I wonder how long I will have to wait despite my appointment. To my surprise I am immediately placed in an examination room. The doctor shows up 5 minutes later. “Why are you here?”, he asks. He say I was told to book the appointment because I am suppose to fly on Saturday to Europe. I inquire on my stool samples. He laughs. Those take at least a week he says. Damn. What do I do?

He looks over my file, then looks puzzled at me and asks, “Why haven’t you medicated yourself yet?”

How could I? Medication requires prescriptions, prescriptions come from doctors. The doctors have simply passed me around.

“You leave for Europe in a day and you haven’t medicated yourself”, he says again as he shakes his head. He looks over my file again. Viruses usually last 1-2 days tops. Since you no longer have a fever, and this is your 6th day of diarrhea, this looks bacterial he concludes. He writes me a prescription for an anti-biotic called Cipro, and sends me on my way.

Resolution

I get home with my new drugs. I pop my first pill. Within 30 minutes of taking it I am already feeling better. The pain in my abdomen is now gone, I have a new sense of appetite, and a smallest sense of hope enters into me. Despite my new found medication I decide to change my flight to Monday. I have to rebook my train trip from Frankfurt to Berlin, and update my booking at the hostel. The costs involved will be worth having a few extra days to recover before having to fly.

So this is where I stand now. It is Sunday morning. I just took my second to last pill. I am feeling a great deal better. The last week has been an adventure and a severe test of patience. Now I am just looking forward to regain my strength, so that I can fully enjoy my time in Europe.

Friend and co-worker Tom wrote a hilarious piece comparing operating systems to women. He came up with the notion yesterday at our company barbeque. Pretty funny read:

Windows 7 Codename: Lipstick Mascaraed Whore

So I had been meaning to write up a Sasquatch review, but have been way too busy. So I am just going to send you to Jason’s writeup instead. I think he covered things well:

http://www.thisallencompassingtrip.com/2009/05/26/sasquatch-festival-at-the-gorge/

Things to note. The Decemberists new album in full was amazing. I will possibly write a blog post about that in the future (but yeah you know how it goes). Explosions in the Sky were amazing, “We’re not trying to bum you out, we’re going to try and bliss you out”.

“Party On Dudes!”

So myself along with friends Jordan and Oliver have started something that is starting to pickup some traction. We have been organizing sessions of Capture the Flag in the city which we dubbed Urban Capture the Flag. We had an initial “beta” match which worked out really well, then our official launch last week. Both were a lot of fun, and everyone involved seemed to really love it. Anyway this is just my quick little “introducing” email to what we have been up to. Just put a blog today for it, so go check it out at http://www.urbanctf.org/. if you are interested in playing be sure to let us know. We are always looking for more players.

Baked some chocolate chip cookies today. It is a pretty standard recipe I think I initially found on allrecipies.com. Basically following the common ratio of 1 cup butter to 2 eggs and 2 cups sugar.

Some people like their cookies thin and crunchy, if that is the case then this recipe might not be for you. However if you are a fan of a meaty moist cookie then look no further!

Here is the recipe: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Best-Chocolate-Chip-Cookies/Detail.aspx. Give it a go for a tasty treat.

Milk and Cookies Moustache:

“They have built a business around selling plastic discs, and nobody wants plastic discs any more.”
- Trent Reznor

So last weekend I decided I had enough with my cd collection sitting around collecting dust. So I decided to remove my cds and inserts from their jewel cases, and store the cds in a binder, and all the inserts and digipaks in a box. All the cds that I didn’t have as digital media on my computer yet, I ripped to mp3.

After separating all the cds from their jewel cases I then put back together all the empty jewel cases and made a tower.

Finally all the inserts and digipaks in an old shoebox.

Definitely much better, and no longer do I have to deal with the pain of dusting every cd I own.