Gulch

Exploring The Good Life: Recent Updates to the Guides

My back was to the jazz trio; however, the cafe was so intimate that their slightly downbeat version of "Fly Me To The Moon" filled the room, combining and weaving with the conversations of the nearby tables to create a joyous energy.  In front of me was a slice of chocolate cake and a beer and I realized that I had stumbled into a bit of the good life. And, importantly, it wasn't located in some exotic or far-away place. Instead it was located less than a block away from where we live.

Jen and I started the travel guide section of this site, Gulch Guides, as a way to let readers find our travel recommendations without having to read through all of our, well, mental wanderings on this blog. Lately, though, we've been sticking close to home and have been happy to find a lot of the good life right here.  We are constantly adding to the Guides and I thought I'd cross-post some of the newest entries on what we consider the good life to be:

Detour Dessert Lounge (in Victoria)

Sometimes, only a late night slice of chocolate cake will do. Detour Dessert Lounge (14 Centennial Square / 250-298-8308) is an intimate place that serves not only delicious and moist cake but also a whole variety of other decadent treats. Combining a slice of cake (such as "the Lola", a chocolate cake layered with Bavarian icing and raspberry and topped with vanilla bean fudge) with a glass of wine or a beer while a live jazz band plays is a perfect way to slow down and really enjoy life. Detour has a large selection of vegan/vegetarian desserts and they have nicely balanced their menu to include sugar and gluten free items so that no one can use dietary restrictions as an excuse not to indulge.

In addition to desserts, they also have a small menu of regular food such as salads and nachos and they also serve good coffee. Most items are under $10. Detour is located in Victoria's Centennial Square and, despite the strip mall exterior, it has a sophisticated and hip feel on the inside and often features live music.

The Parrot Confectionery (in Helena)

The Parrot Confectionery (42 North Last Chance Gulch / 406-442-1470) first opened its doors in 1922 and has since reached near legendary status in Helena, across the state, and beyond for its handmade chocolates. The Parrot has been owned and operated by the same family since it opened and it feels like little has changed in this candy store/soda fountain/lunch café. There’s a jukebox, cozy booths, and a long counter behind which they serve up real soda fountain drinks like cherry phosphates and ice cream milkshakes.

The Parrot is most famous for their candy. They make over 120 different types of fine sweets and hand dipped chocolates, which they also ship worldwide. However, many locals go there for a different reason: they serve some of - if not the - best chili in town (it’s no sense asking, they keep the recipe secret). The Parrot is one of those types of special places that give a sense of permanence and stability that just doesn't normally exist in the modern world. So the next time it’s really cold and you’re feeling down, head to the Parrot and get a milkshake and bowl of chili, and the world will start to look pretty good again.

Sabri Naanwich (in Victoria)

Sometimes fusion food doesn’t have to be highbrow. Sabri Naanwich (1310 Douglas / 250-382-9668) combines the concepts of Indian food and sub sandwich shops in a way that works so well that one is left wondering why it isn’t more common. Sabri Naanwich is set up like many fast food style sandwich or wrap joints, only with an Indian flair: instead of bread, the whole thing starts with a warm piece of naan. Then, rather than deli meat as the main part of your sandwich, you get to pick from a number of different Indian-style dishes such as butter chicken, lamb and ginger, or garbanzo bean curry (at various spice levels). You then get to choose from an assortment of traditional sandwich pickings such as lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, and less traditional Indian condiments such as mango chutney or raita. The whole thing gets built before you and is served like a wrap. It is also delicious and cheap – most naandwiches range from $5 to $7 dollars.

Ordering a naanwich with butter chicken with jalapeños and mango chutney is a perfect combination of spicy and sweet and thus just might be in the running for the most perfect sandwich ever. Sabri’s advertises that naanwiches are fairly healthy - none of the meats are processed and there are many options for vegetarians and vegans. Be warned that the shop closes early - around 6pm - most nights.

In Which Travelocity Asks Me to Blether About One of My Favorite Places

The Internet café’s air conditioning was on full blast, making me wish that I was wearing more than shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt. Jen and I were in Tulum, Mexico on our honeymoon and had stopped in to check email. Buried amongst various messages from friends, family, and Nigerian businessmen was an email whose subject line read: Travelocity Podcast Interview. I clicked on it.

A few weeks later and back at home, I pulled on my Gore-tex raincoat and walked up the street and into the local CBC radio station.

“Uh,” I said, “I’m hear to record an interview.” They knew what I was talking about and showed me to a recording studio. A technician arranged for the international phone call from the interviewer to be routed to my mic.

And so, this week, I made my podcast debut on Travelocity’s Window Seat blog. Specifically, I answered some questions about the Mayan Riviera and talked about some of the places we recommend on our Gulch Guides for their Podcast Episode 4: Paradise. You can also scroll down for the specific section on the Mayan Riviera to hear the segment which features me. I’m also really happy to report that technology exists to edit out all of my “uh’s” and “ums.” Well, most of them at any rate.

Thanks again to Travelocity and the people at LA Podsquad for the opportunity. Here are some specific sections of this website that were relevant to the podcast:

• Gulch Guides to the Mayan Rivera
• Specific recommendation for Playa del Carmen
• Specific recommendations for Tulum
• Stories and writings about our travels in Mexico

Adrift in Editorial Waters

I put down my fountain pen, sighed, and picked up the last page of the story I had just written. I fanned it in the air in front of me until I was satisfied that the ink had dried and that it wouldn’t smear. I then put the page face down on the stack of papers on the side of my desk. I turned the stack over - rereading my title And So It Goes – and rolled the story into a tight tube. I pushed the rolled story down the neck of a green glass bottle until it fell all the way into bottle with a gentle ‘plink’. The bottle had once held wine but that was long gone and the glass had been washed, dried, and sterilized. I pushed the cork back into the mouth of the bottle and then sealed it in with some red wax.

I carried the bottle down Dallas Road until I reached the Breakwater at Ogden Point. At the end of the wall, I held up the bottle, peered in at my story, and then kissed the glass. With a burst of energy, I tossed the bottle in a high arc into the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It landed in the cold waters with a satisfying splash, and I quickly lost sight of it as it drifted, I hoped, out to sea.

And that, I thought, is how most submissions go.

If you’ve never submitted a story or poem or article to be published, it can be a long, frustrating process. After a long time perfecting a piece – writing it, rewriting it, editing it - , you print it out, stick it the mail, and then wait. Months and even years can go by without a response. Editors ignore emails and even rejections letters sometimes never show up. Often, I thought, I’d have better luck just shoving my story in a bottle and throwing it in the ocean.

Two years ago, I took over as the Editor of Island Writer Magazine. Island Writer is published by the Victoria Writers’ Society and it completely run by volunteers. I’ve always thought it was impressive that Island Writer was limited to writers living on Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands and as Editor, I’ve been able to dive into the depths of talent living in this part of the world.

And, I’m sure, I’ve added to the frustration that many people feel when they send out a submission and never hear anything back. Being the Editor has been a learning process and here are a few things that I’ve learning along the way:

Editors should never announce time lines or deadlines. The science fiction author Douglas Adams once stated: “I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” I’ve found that that whoosh is particularly loud if you’ve responded to a writer that you would let them know if their piece is included or not by a certain date. I’ve also found that just by saying out loud that the next issue will ready by a certain day, it will guarantee that on that specific day, the magazine will never, ever, be ready.

Editors should realize that emails multiply faster than the bunnies on the University of Victoria campus. For every email that you reply to, you’ll find that you’ll two more in your inbox to replace it. By the time you’ve answered each one, a deadline probably has whooshed by.

Editors shouldn’t give out too much information about how the next issue will turn out. Stating that the magazine have a specific number of pages or be a particular colour or focus on a set theme only guarantees it will never actually turn out that way. It’s best just to keep quiet and cagey about the whole affair until the magazine is actually ready. It might even be best not to admit that the magazine will even have words.

And so, after two years of being the editor of Island Writer Magazine, I’ve found that I’ve become as secretive, uncommunicative, and perpetually late as some of the editors to whom I’ve sent work. Unfortunately, I now understand why they are that way.

A secret of being an editor is that you get to work with great people who put in a lot of work to make the magazine look good. I would like to thank all of the members of the Editorial Board who have served with me.

I would also like to thank all of the writers and poets who have submitted to Island Writer during my time as Editor. I’m always amazed and humbled by the talent living in our community and I’ve enjoyed reading all of your stories, articles, and poems. The next time you feel like you might have better luck throwing your submission in the ocean and you head down to the shore, please keep an eye out for a story in a green bottle. I’m hoping to hear back from an editor about it any day now.

(Like the last couple of times, parts of this entry were adapted from my editorial in the current issue of Island Writer)

More Mental Wanderings

Looking out the window today, thick white flakes of snow raced sidewise across my view. Earlier this morning, one of Victoria's infrequent snowstorms blew into town. Like so many of the tourists that visit here, the intensity and pace of the snowstorm made it clear that it was going to try to cover all that Victoria has to offer in one day. Not wanting to miss this rare visitor, Jen and I pulled on our waterproof pants over our long johns, put on our hats, and hiked through downtown to the Inner Harbour. The flakes were wet and heavy and they stuck to us as we walked around the harbor. We were in good company though, as both statues of Queen Victoria and Captain James Cook sported soft white outfits over their normal metal outerwear.

As the dampness soaked through my coat and the chill seeped into my socks, my mind, as it often does when I'm cold, wandered to warmer places. Thus, I thought I'd just make a note that over the last week, I've slowly been updating my verbal map to the physical world. Amongst other additions, I've updated my guide to the Mayan Riviera, adding another underground river to swim in, some new restaurants here and there, our favorite places and pyramids in Izamal, and a nice cafe where you can get homemade bread and the local gossip in Tulum. Also, since I've been dreaming of warm places, I'll also mention that I posted pictures from our trip to the Yucatàn earlier this fall. While I probably won't be venturing anywhere tropical soon, I think I'm about due for a mini-vacation to the table next to the fireplace at the local pub very soon.

Editorial Waters

The bleak water rushed like a river between the hunks of rock that pushed their way out of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. On the larger of the two rocks, which could barely be called islets much less islands, the impressive Race Rocks lighthouse loomed above our small boat.

The name Race Rocks refers to a “tidal race,” where a fast moving tide passes through a constriction resulting in the formation of a hazardous current. The tide at Race Rocks can reach speeds of up to 8 knots or close to 15 kilometers per hour as it flows past the rocky outcroppings of the Race Rock Islets.

The tidal current that day seemed to be flowing at peak speeds. Our boat’s engine vibrated loudly as it fought against the current to keep us from being pushed from our position. I glanced up at the lighthouse briefly as I stood on the edge of the boat and then looked down at the swirling water, amazed at how fast it seemed to be flowing. I adjusted my scuba mask, took a deep breath, and stepped off the solid edge of the boat and plunged myself into that cold, black water.

In many ways, I would recreate that short plunge when I took over the Editor position for Island Writer Magazine. The former editor and publisher of this local literary journal retired at the end of 2005. This past spring, I looked at the last issue, took heed of the rapid currents, and decided to jump into those rushing waters and try my hand at being editor. Island Writer is published by the Victoria Writers Society, which that I have been involved in for the last year.

That rapid editorial current has caused the metaphorical waters on this website to be, well, a bit stagnant. However, I’m happy to announce that my first issue has finally gone to print and will soon be available. It’s sold in bookstores throughout Victoria and via the VWS website. I hope to soon be posting on this site on a regular schedule again.

It was, as most of the best things are, a team effort. As an all volunteer organization, the dedication of everyone who submitted, contributed, and worked on the magazine stands out like a lighthouse. Now where did I leave my scuba mask?

(Parts of this entry were adapted from my editorial in the current issue of Island Writer)