Western Canadian Concert Tour : : Day Four : : Ukranian for a Day March 22, 2010

I went to a Ukranian Catholic service this morning. I sang with the choir in Ukranian. I ate borscht. I spent the rest of the day recovering from last night. Oh…and I walked around Lake Wascana and checked out the Saskatchewan Legislature. Regina is actually sorta pretty if you know where to look.

Western Canadian Tour : : Day Three : : Bri-anne + Blues Brothers = BFFs. March 21, 2010

REGINA

I usually try to pick my venues carefully.  The people at McNally’s were so lovely to me.  Jason on sound was awesome.  Rick, the owner was cool.  The crowd though…well…let’s just say I wasn’t what they were looking for.  There’s only so much a girl with a guitar can sing over and sometimes, it doesn’t matter what you do, if people are there to smash beer glasses and shout at the person on stage, that’s what’s gonna happen.

I wish I knew Rawhide.  Dammit…I wish I knew the Blue Brothers.  My whole life would be way cooler if I knew the Blues Brothers.

Western Canadian Tour : : Day Two : : Watch out for Turtles! March 20, 2010

I’m really, really exhausted right now.  Maybe I’m still on Ontario time.  Maybe the craziness of yesterday didn’t catch up with me until today.  At any rate, this is just a short post of the highlights of today.  There was no show tonight.  I’m playing next tomorrow night in Regina.

1.  This afternoon, Harvey (see previous post) came home from a meeting at his church and couldn’t get into the house because I had locked the door.  “I see you think you’re still in Toronto.”  Much like the area where I grew up, people in Brandon don’t lock their doors.

2.  On the way to a church dinner that Harvey had bought tickets for, I asked him whether it was a fundraiser for the church or for an international relief effort (as is common with church dinners).  He said the dinner was a fundraiser for the Icelandic people.  I was very concerned that something had happened to the poor people in Iceland that I didn’t know about, until Harvey laughed at me and explained that a lot of people from Iceland settled in Western Manitoba and this was a fundraiser for the Icelandic Cultural Association.  So don’t worry, everybody…the people in Iceland are fine.  We ate the traditional Icelandic meal of fish and chips.

3.  Upon arriving at the dinner:  Me – Harvey, I don’t think we can park here.  The sign says “No Parking”.  Harvey – Ha! It’s okay.  This is Brandon.  Me – Oooookkkkkk.
4.  On a whim, Harvey decided we should drive an hour south to the Peace Gardens on the border of Manitoba and North Dakota.  Not thinking we were going anywhere after dinner I didn’t bring my camera with me.  I stopped at the Zellers and asked one of the employees, who couldn’t have been more than 17 years old, where the disposable cameras were.  He had no idea what I was talking about.  I tried to explain to him what they were.”Oh, you mean one of those super old school cameras with, like, film and stuff in it?”
“Yeah.  Like film.  And stuff.  But this camera in particular is designed so you only use it once.”
“Oh man, I think they’re over here.  I thought they were, like, for little kids or something.  You mean, you can actually get pictures out of these?”
Somebody please tell me exactly when it was that I got old…

5.  In order to get to the Peace Gardens we had to drive through Boissevain, a pretty little town with not one, but two grain elevators! Boissevain is in an area known as the Turtle Mountains, so named because of the large numbers of snappy turtles in the area.  Like many small towns, Boissevain struggles to attract people and their money.  And like many small towns, they have tried to come up with interesting ways to make a name for themselves. Coldwater (where I grew up) has the White Swan Swim.  Moonbeam (a little town in Northern Ontario) has a flying saucer.  Boissevain had, until recently, a world class Turtle Derby.  People from all over North America would train their turtles and enter them into this turtle race.  This guy in the photo is Tommy the Turtle.

Western Canadian Tour : : Day One : : Dude, Where’s My Guitar? March 19, 2010

WINNIPEG / BRANDON, MANITOBA

As I was saying goodbye to Jason before boarding my flight for Winnipeg, I promised I would be open to whatever adventures came my way.  I knew this wasn’t going to be difficult – “adventures” (trouble?) seem to find me no matter where I am or what I do.  It’s not my fault.  I come by it honestly.  We have so many “adventures” that most people either don’t believe so much insanity can surround one family, or they suggest we get our own reality show.  I knew since I am traveling alone and for quite a distance, some “adventure” would find me…eventually.  I just wasn’t counting on it happening before I set foot outside of the airport.

The flight was wonderful.  We left early(!)  We arrived early(!)  The flight attendants had me in stitches as they did the macarena in the aisles. When I landed I was reminded of how friendly Winnipeg is with their fabulous yellow-vested airport volunteers who can spot a lost soul in need of coffee and a hug from across two runways.  I was greeted by my friend Joyce. [I met Joyce and her husband, Harvey, the last time I played in Winnipeg.  Joyce is dog sitting in Winnipeg, but Harvey has been my gracious host here in Brandon.  I hadn't seen Joyce since I played in here three years ago.]  Things were looking good…even though the weather was 23 degrees cooler than what I left in Toronto.

However, things started to look not so good when I realized my guitar wasn’t coming out with the rest of the oversized and fragile luggage.  I went to the counter and I checked with the woman in charge.  There was no guitar.  She called Pearson International Airport in Toronto.  They didn’t know where my guitar was either.  I had 30 minutes before I had to catch my Greyhound bus to Brandon – a two and a half hour drive from Winnipeg.  And I had a gig.  An early gig.  To be completely honest, I was pretty proud of myself for not outwardly losing my mind.  But really, all I wanted to sit on a chair and start sobbing.  I mean, I brought my ukulele, but I didn’t think it would be fair to inflict an entire show of that upon the patrons at Lady of the Lake.  Besides, I bought the ukulele because it has a pineapple on the top, not for its quality as an instrument.  That’s just how I roll.

I filled out a form and the nice woman at the counter said she’d call when she heard something.  As I scrambled to catch my bus to Brandon I received a phone call:  there was a guitar at Pearson with no luggage tag, but they needed to know what colour it was before they would send it along.  It didn’t matter that it was the only guitar left behind a flight outbound to Winnipeg that morning.  They still needed verification. I was a grumpy muppet.

After verifying that the guitar was indeed mine, there was still the issue of how they were going to get it to me in time for my show.  The guitar was still in Toronto and I was on the bus to Brandon.  WestJet decided to fly the guitar to Winnipeg on the next flight and then courier it out to Brandon as soon as it got there.  I received a call at 4:00pm letting me know the guitar made it to Winnipeg and it was on its way.  Philip, who is my new hero in addition to being the courier driver assigned my case, pushed the speed limit the entire way in order to get me my instrument in time.  And he did…with less than 5 minutes to spare before show time.  I gave him a hug and a CD, and then ran up on stage to do the show.

After the drama of the day, the show itself seemed pretty mellow and anti-climactic.