Viva, Vancouver...

I haven't been to Vancouver for a while, so I figured now was as good a time as any to get back up here. Normally I would fly straight into Vancouver, but I decided to fly into Seattle on Friday, instead, and drive to Vancouver on Saturday.

I've only made the drive once, and it was a rather eventful experience. I was travelling with guitarist Marc Seal, and we were on our way to a show in Kelowna, British Columbia. Our flight out of Seattle got cancelled, so we made an eight hour drive from Seattle to Kelowna in the rain, at night, on unfamiliar roads and with a rather sketchy GPS unit. We made it, but it wasn't exactly a sightseeing trip.

This trip, however, was far different. The weather has been gorgeous, and it's supposed to stay that way until I leave Seattle on Thursday (I'll drive back down there next week).

Downtown Seattle, Washington. That's Qwest Field, home of the Seahawks, on the left...

I'm goin' left...

Now, it's no secret that I love to drive, and that's one of the reasons I decided to do this trip the way I am. Aside from that, though, you would be amazed at how less expensive the airfare was to Seattle as opposed to Vancouver, and how less expensive the rental car is (I have a Ford Escape). For me, though, the biggest benefit is that I don't have to deal with Canadian Customs in an airport. Only rarely is it a brief endeavor. Driving across the border, though, it's nice and quick. It's also a lot more picturesque than Canadian Customs at Vancouver International.





Peace Arch Park at the Canadian border...

Welcome to Canada...

I hate to say it, but the 2010 Winter Olympic Games came and went since I've last been here. It's evident, though, that having the world show up on your doorstep had a positive impact. The city seems nicer. It seems cleaner. And it's sure as Hell a lot more fun than I remember it being the last time I was here.

According to one bartender I spoke with, the city closes down Granville Street every Friday and Saturday night during the summer for "Viva, Vancouver". As I had an appointment on Granville in the afternoon, and dinner planned in the evening, I figured I'd take the 5D and get some shots between the two.

Granville Street in Vancouver; shut down to traffic...

Apparently, there was some sort of skateboarding demonstration earlier in the evening, but I missed that. What I got to see, though, was something I'd not seen before. Howzabout some roadside karaoke?

A girl sings Shirley Bassey's "Hey Big Spender", and she was good...

This is just PART of the crowd that was enjoying the karaoke...

Now, whenever you close down the street in a major metropolitan area, people are going to come out, and this was no exception. And, when people are going to be coming out, you get that segment of society which earns its' living on the street. They may be beggars or buskers, but they're out there:

Part of a trio of buskers...

Another member of the trio...

And this girl completes the trio. They said they were trying to raise money to buy tickets to see Santana. Godspeed...

Some people, however, lack the creativity gene, and just ask for money...

Now, whenever this many people end up in the same place, there's bound to be a degree of "freak show" happening. There was a real cast of characters out there today and, honestly, I don't know that any of them can be adequately explained:

He wasn't only feeding them, he was carrying on a conversation with them...

Yeah. I got nothin'...

This guy berated his umbrella before hanging it off his pocket...

I bet his mother is, oh, so proud...

There were plenty of food vendors, as well. Most of it was what you would expect in this area; a lot of seafood offerings, but the old standbys, as well; burgers, hot dogs, etc. And, if you looked long enough, you could even find something which you probably thought only existed in a ZZ Top song:

I wish I could say this is Photoshopped but, sadly, no. Bon appetit...

The tube steak girl putting way too much catsup on something which, undoubtedly, needs it...

And, of course, whenever you get a large mass of people busking, singing, begging, tube steaking, and what have you, you'll also have that element which comes out to try to earn some real money. Whether they're successful or not is unknown:

I think she's calling her broker...

Only able to stand so much of a good thing, I decided to head out to parts less crowded, so I drove down to Stanley Park. Right on the water, crowds gather along the banks of English Bay to watch the sunset. I got there a few minutes after sunset, but I could tell, just by what I saw that followed sunset, that it must've been quite a site.

English Bay, right after sunset...

Despite being an urban park, it's actually pretty serene, and there's even some wildlife. Okay, we're not talkin' bears and elk here, but a family of raccoons did find their way down a rather large tree before retiring into the brush:

This little guy was moving slow and steady...

Scopin' out the tourists...

Four of the five raccoons...

As I don't have a tripod with me, it was getting a little bit difficult to take pictures that I would be happy with. When I got back to my hotel, though, I stepped out onto my 16th floor balcony and braced the 5D against the railing to get some night shots of downtown Vancouver:

Vancouver at night...

I look at that picture of Vancouver, and I have CNN's coverage of Hurricane Irene tuned in on the flat screen. I just hope everyone back there is able to hunker down and be safe. It's kind of amazing to think that I honestly can't recall the last time I was here when the weather wasn't crappy. It seems like it's always cold or rainy (or, on a good day, both).

The weather is supposed to be perfect while I'm here, and when I travel back to Seattle, so I'll be sure to have the batteries charged...

Wow.

Okay, so I've been mildly remiss in catching up. I'll deal.

My Montreal trip was uneventful (which can sometimes be a good thing), so I was thankful for that. I got in some meetings with both clients and artists, and all went well. On Thursday, I spent a good portion of the afternoon with Frank Marino of Mahogany Rush. I've gotten to know him a bit over the last two years, and took him up on his offer to visit the Marino homestead while I was in Montreal this time around.

Frank is, quite frankly, one of the most interesting people I know. When I arrived, he was in his basement studio working on some audio tracks from a DVD project that was spurred on my Jon Landau, who's Bruce Springsteen's manager (and a big Mahogany Rush fan). Something had happened with the drum tracks, so Frank was involved in a forensic-level reconstruction of those tracks. It truly was DNA level stuff. He told me he's been working on it for nine months, 16 hours a day, seven days a week. He'd done just over 480,000 individual cuts, and he estimated that he was about 60% done with the project. He hopes to have it done by December so he can go out on tour in January. When the audio work is done, he'll have 12 hours of Mahogany Rush video, or about six DVD's worth. If you're a Frank Marino and Mahogany Rush fan, you'll want it.

Trust me on this.

On Friday, I finished up what business I had to and then pointed the Camaro south. I was heading back to my Dad's, about five hours south. It was unusually foggy, and all I could think of was the fog would give the police a good deal of cover:

Quebec fog...

I kept my speed sane and, after a little over a half hour, I made it to the border:



Border crossing from Quebec into New York State...



Before crossing into the United States, I decided to stop into the "duty free" shop at the border:

Duty free shop at the border...

If you've never been in one of these, you might be amazed at how low the prices on things can be when taxes aren't involved. Everything from liquor to cigarettes to jewelry is sold, and the prices are very good. I didn't buy much (I never do), although I did find a watch I rather liked. I didn't buy it (I'm totally unfamiliar with the brand), but did pick up a few little things and some coffee.

I'm always looking around when I drive. Hey, what can I say? I'm a sucker for cool roadside images. While there wasn't a great deal to shoot during this drive, I did find a cool old barn just south of the border and, if you've followed this blog for any period of time, you know I'm a fan of dilapidated barns:

An old barn along the New York State Thruway...

Now, up until now, I hadn't really had "fun" in the Camaro. The last thing I need is a speeding ticket but, you know, sometimes you just can't help yourself. And, sometimes, I just can't help myself. I had to see what she would do:



Gotta' love a heads up display...



I actually didn't drive that fast for too long. If any New York State Troopers read this, I swear, I only went this fast for purposes of the photo.

I swear.

I finally arrived at Dad's and got settled. At that point, there was only one thing on the agenda: CUBANO. Dad's friend Bert is a Cuban immigrant who owns Cafe 32, a little restaurant/bar in Plattekill, New York. Bert is an amazing chef, and he can cook anything better than most. One of the things he makes, which sunk its hooks into me long ago, is a Cubano sandwich. It doesn't bode well for the diet, mind you, but it's good. Thinly sliced pork, ham and Swiss cheese. Man, oh, man:

Bert in the kitchen, whipping up my Cubano sandwich...

It was good catching up with Dad, too. I don't get to see him as much as I'd like. He's been to California once, many years ago. I think he has an aversion to any airplane flight that's over three hours long. So, when I'm going to Montreal, I fly into New York to visit Dad, and then drive north to Canada.

Dad and I on the front porch of Cafe 32...

Dad...

After an evening at Cafe 32, we went back to Dad's for some of his Bloody Mary's. I love a good Bloody Mary, and Dad's got it pretty well down pat.

The next day, I wanted to head out and take some pictures. The area where Dad lives is definitely at no loss for cool things to shoot. It's a very old area, with lots of old graveyards (which you'll miss if you're not looking for them) and buildings to shoot: 



The Cherry Top ice cream shop...



A ca. 1800's house in Newburgh, New York...

 

Part of an old graveyard in Newburgh, New York...



An old gravestone, dating from 1863...

An old church, which is now a museum, in Newburgh, New York...

Now, I have to be honest here. I thought the car I was driving on this trip was pretty damn cool. I mean, c'mon, a fire engine red convertible Camaro? Hell, yeah; talk about sporty. But, as cool as it was, it was bested. While you might think you'd be more likely to find something like this in Mississippi but, no, this was New York.

And it was just bitchin':

A rather sporty lifted Pontiac Trans Am...

Sadly, my visit was short and, before I knew it, it was Sunday morning; time to fly home. It was a good trip, though, and it's always good to see the old man.

Now, if I can just get him to be seen in San Diego, I'll really be on to something...

Montreal... Again...

Wrapping up my first day in Montreal, I'm easily reminded of why I dig this city so much. It's funky. I like funky. Cities like Toronto and Vancouver are certainly cool places to visit, but they don't have the fun-factor that you find in Montreal.

The day started out with a lunch meeting, and then a visit to a client not far from the Vieux Port. As I've mentioned here in the past, the Vieux Port is the touristy part of town. Cobblestone streets, buskers, restaurants galore, and more souvenir shops than you can shake a stick at.

Lunch was good, but it was actually breakfast. I don't think I'm breaking any news when I say that I dig breakfast. I'm not talkin' Wheaties and a piece of fruit here. I'm talkin' eggs, sausage, some potatoes, toast and some OJ. Honestly, if lunch and dinner would, somehow, disappear from our existence, I'd be completely cool with that.

After my client visit, I took a walk down to the Vieux Port. My main goal was to visit Alejandro, an artist who I met the last time I was here:



Alejandro painting along Rue des Artistes back in June...



I really dug his paintings, but I didn't want to have him ship it from here after I left. As nice a guy as he was, I'd still prefer to ship it myself. As I'll be at my Dad's this weekend, I can do that. So, today, I was here to buy one of his paintings.

When he painting, it's pretty obvious he'd rather not engage in small talk with people regarding his work. His paintings aren't inexpensive, so it probably gets old thinking that someone's talking to you because they want to buy your work. He's not rude, but he is somewhat terse with his casual conversation. I found him to be that way to me today, when I told him I was here two months ago, and that I really liked his work. I then uttered those magic Alejandro-attention-getting words: I'm here to buy one of your paintings.

His entire demeanor changed. Immediately, he sat me in a chair and pulled out about a dozen paintings. He sat with them in his lap, about six feet from me. He wanted me to see them from a distance, as I'd already been looking at them up close. His patience was amazing. I knew what I wanted; well, kind of. I knew the colors I wanted, and I knew what I wanted as the subject. As he went through them, I'd tell him "that one" or "no", and he would set them aside in different stacks. After we went through the paintings in his lap, he went and got another group of paintings. We finally narrowed it down to two, and I couldn't decide. I asked which one he liked most, and I went with that one.

Rue des Artistes is a pretty cool street (well, more like an alley) in the Vieux Port. Painters, photographers, jewelry makers, hell, you name it; they're all there. This was a guy I'd not seen here during any of my previous visits, but he was busy today, as well, with a steady stream of customers. This was shot during a seldom seen lull in his traffic:



An artist along Rue des Artistes...

 From Rue des Artistes, I made my way over to the "main drag", Rue St. Paul. This is where you find the majority of restaurants and bars in the Vieux Port, and it's always crowded. It's a good thing this street is closed to traffic because, if it wasn't, there would be only two possible outcomes: There would be a traffic jam of a magnitude unseen since the Canadians won the Cup, or the street would be littered with, um... "road kill". The sidewalks along Rue St. Paul are simply far too narrow to handle the tourist traffic that hits this area every single day:

Pedestrian traffic along Rue St. Paul...

I worked my way back to Place Jacques Cartier (the plaza in the Vieux Port), where the buskers were out doin' their thing. Today's crop of buskers included a guy who juggled flaming bowling pins atop a five foot high unicycle and a guy who is rather handy with a bullwhip.

Another staple in the Vieux Port is the horse-drawn carriage. They're damn near everywhere. For thirty or forty bucks (I'm guessin' here) you can get a private tour of the Vieux Port. You can tie up traffic and hope the horse doesn't rear up as drivers honk their horns at the carriage driver. I'm sure it's lovely, but I'll pass. Also, the drivers (is that even the right word?) get really pissed if you take pictures of their carriages and/or horses, so one must employ stealth:

A horse-drawn carriage along de la Commune in the Vieux Port...

From de la Commune, the next stop is over along the quay, where there are even more shops at which to leave your money. What the quay also offers is a cool view of the Vieux Port:

The Vieux Port as seen from the quay...

I can only imagine that one of the worst decisions a person could make in their life is deciding to drive in the Vieux Port. It just doesn't make sense. Driving in Montreal is a study in patience as it is. Driving in the Vieux Port could only compound that.

Well, apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks that way. All over Montreal, and especially in the Viuex Port, you can find automated bike rental stations. I haven't the foggiest idea how they ensure you actually bring it back, but they must have something figured out, because these bikes are everywhere:

Bike rental station in the Vieux Port...

The area along the quay is great for people watching. Every manner of pathetic soul is sure to pass by at some point or another. The quay is also home to the Centre des Sciences de Montreal, or the Montreal Science Center. I've yet to venture in but, one of these days, I probably will:




Centre des Sciences de Montreal...



It's Indiana Jones. And it's in French...

Now, given the nature of the Vieux Port, it's not really possible for the local police to patrol in cars. There just isn't a place for the cars to drive in the majority of the Port, but they still need to have a presence. Leave it to the Montreal Police Department to solve such a problem with savvy and ingenuity:

And he will totally put your sorry ass in Golf Cart Jail, too...

I finally made my way back to my hotel, and opted for an evening of relaxation and the Discovery Channel. Tomorrow will include some more client visits, but no more walking in the Vieux Port. I think I'm done with that.

Maybe...

Camaros, Goos, and Montreal...

I'm back in Montreal, but it's taken some time to get here.

The idea was to take a red-eye from San Diego to Newburgh, New York, so I could spend some time with my Dad. I was going to be flying through Philadelphia. No sweat, I thought. I'd sleep on the first leg of the trip. Well, I did.

A little.

It seems as though “Amy”, who's probably a darling little child when she's at home, was an absolute menace seated behind me. What really got me is that her mother was even worse, as it damn-near took me to threaten her before she told her 6-year old demon-seed child to stop kicking the back of my chair. When the kid was asleep, all was cool. But when Satan's spawn was awake, it was tough to deal with. I finally had to turn to the mother and say, not so quietly, “TELL YOUR KID TO STOP”.

She did.

The flight from Philly to Newburgh was about as uneventful as a flight can get. Hey, it's only an hour, gate to gate. We landed in Newburgh and I made my way to the car rental counter.

Now, when I rent a car, I always ask (and only half-jokingly) “Any complimentary Corvette upgrades today?” Ninety percent of the time that question is met with a chuckle and a “Oh, I'm sorry sir, no”, and that's fine. Hey, they can't say no if I don't ask, and Alice, in fact, gave me that very answer on Thursday morning. “If you're looking for something sporty, though, I do have a Camaro, although it's another 13 dollars a day.”

Hell, I spend $13.00 a day on coffee. Sign me up.

It wasn't until I got to the car that I discovered that it was a convertible. And it was Fire Engine Red.

And it was sweet:

And it's really freaking fast, too...

So, I get my luggage loaded, drop the top, fire up the Tom Tom, and head out to my Dad's. It was a glorious sunny day in New York, and I just know all those people I was blowing past were envious and jealous. I got to my Dad's a little later than I'd planned, but we met up with my Aunt and hit the Longhorn Steakhouse for an early dinner.

After dinner, Dad and I went over to Cafe 32; a “must visit” locale on any trip I make to my Dad's place. Bert is from Cuba, and he's one of the finest chefs I know. He makes a Cubano sandwich that's so good it'll make you cry. Anyway, Dad and Bert are very good friends, and it's always good to visit and tell war stories and other lies. I'm already looking forward to heading back down that way this coming weekend.



Bert and Dad...


After spending some time with my Dad, I made my way up to Saratoga Springs, New York, to do some concert shooting. I was anxious to check out how the Canon 5D would perform in that environment, and I'm pleased to report that it performed remarkably well. As I suspected, the loss of the crop sensor made for a very different result, but one that I like equally as much as the crop sensor.

I got to the Saratoga Springs about 3:30pm, and met up with my good friend, Keith Rudyk, the guitar tech for Barenaked Ladies. He arranged for my “laminate” (basically an all-access pass), and we found our way back to the BNL dressing room, where I would leave my camera gear until I needed it. As I was milling around backstage, Ed Robertson, the lead singer for BNL, invited me to go on a Bar-B-Q quest with him and a couple of the other guys. Well, how could I pass that up? So, about 5:30pm, Ed, drummer Tyler Stewart, bassist Jim Creeggan and myself climbed into a Dodge Caravan and were whisked away to PJ's Bar-B-Q.

It's difficult to describe this place. I honestly think that Ed will put something on the Ladies' website about it, it was that cool. Let's just say that it's this roadside joint that has a never-ending line of traffic, and there's always a wait for a table. The coolest part about it, though, is WBBQ, their radio station. The owner of the place gets the cooking started, and then he's relieved of those duties while he operates what must be all of a nine watt radio station; it broadcasts about two square miles. The radio station is literally built into the side of a house on the grounds. It was so wacky as to be too damn cool.

Ed, Tyler and Jim, with a bag of PJ's swag, await the ride back to the SPAC...

Ed Robertson, Tyler Stewart and Jim Creeggan meeting the proprietors,
who dialed them in with PJ's Bar-B-Q trucker hats and t-shirts...

We waited about ten minutes for a table, and then we were seated at a picnic table on the back patio, and place our orders.

Now, I'm supposed to be on a diet. Despite enjoying a ridiculously good pulled-pork sandwich, I still feel like I'm on a diet compared to what Ed, Jim and Tyler ordered. We're talking, quite literally, pounds of food here. I guess being a rock star lends itself to burning off some calories on stage, but this was a lot of food. They ended up bringing some back for members of the crew, too. These guys can eat.

After sitting there for about ten or fifteen minutes, one of the waitresses came up and asked if she could take a picture of the guys because her boyfriend, who she said is a huge fan, would never believe they were there. I wasn't about to step into the picture, so I offered to take the picture so she could be in it, as well. She said her boyfriend's head would melt. After a little while longer, a few more people approached them. I've heard of artists who get all bent out of shape and cop an attitude when that happens. Not these guys; Gracious and friendly throughout.

We got back to the SPAC about 6:30pm, and headed back to the dressing room. I gathered up my cameras and got out of everyone's way.

Also on the bill was Goo Goo Dolls. “The Goos” are a band I've wanted to shoot for some time, so I was pretty jazzed to get the chance. They couldn't have been more accommodating As soon as I told him I shot for Wood & Steel Magazine, Matt Miley, their Tour Manager, was quick to dial me in with a credential so I could shoot them, as well.

The Barenaked Ladies always put on a great show, and I always love shooting them. Halfway through their show at SPAC, though, something dawned on me. I've seen these guys in concert five times, but I was shooting them four of those times. I really need to leave the cameras home sometime and just enjoy the show.

Barenaked Ladies on stage in Saratoga Springs...

Following their set, it was time to go out and get ready to shoot Goo Goo Dolls. The photo pit was an absolute nightmare; a mere one foot wide with six security guards dispersed throughout it. In order to get to a halfway decent piece of shooting real estate, I had to climb over two security guards (who were accommodating and pleasant, but still unfortunately placed from a photographer's perspective).

While BNL allows me to shoot from wherever I want for as long as I want (thanks, guys!), Goo Goo Dolls employed the standard “first three and out” rule. Despite shooting for only three songs, I still managed to shoot several hundred photos.

Goo Goo Dolls on stage at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center...

Johnny Rzeznik of Goo Goo Dolls...

Now, when I shoot outdoor shows (which this was), I'm usually in California, where the temperatures are mild and the humidity is low. I have to be honest: I moved from New York 30 years ago. I've stopped being accustomed to New York summers. I can deal with the heat, but the humidity was pretty brutal. All in all, in was about 88 degrees with 85 percent humidity. It was like breathing gravy. By the end of the night, I was in dire need of a shower, some gym shorts and a t-shirt, and some air conditioning.

I'd gotten done with my three songs from Goo Goo Dolls, so I went back to the BNL dressing room to pack up my gear. I had a beer with Keith and a couple of the other guys, and then they had to split. We walked up to their tour bus (they had about a ten hour ride back to Toronto) and said our goodbyes.

Now, my biggest problem with shooting concerts, interestingly enough, actually has nothing to do with shooting concerts. It's what happens after I shoot. As soon as I got back to my swanky suite at the Comfort Inn Clifton Park (said VERY tongue in cheek, by the way), I decided I would go ahead and download the photos from the evening and go to bed. Well, after they were downloaded, I said “Well, I'll just go ahead and look at some of them”. So I did. Then I said those words which I rue ever saying, yet I seem to say them every time: “Lemme' open up Photoshop for a minute”. Well, there's no such thing as a “minute” when I open up Photoshop. I got back to my hotel by 10:45pm, and I finally ended up going to bed about 3:00am.

I really gotta' stop saying things like that.

So, with the shooting out of the way, it was time to head to Montreal for the week. The drive was actually pretty relaxing, but something told me to leave the top up on the Camaro, and I'm glad I did. About 1:00pm the skies opened up. I would've looked pretty silly sitting on the side of the road trying to put the top up.

I crossed the border at about 2:00pm, and was in my hotel room, in Montreal, by 3:00pm.



Whatever you do, don't Sur Les Hachures, 'cause that would be bad. Apparently...



Crossing the border from New York State into Quebec...

I've got some meetings set up, and some client visits, and then I'll head back down to Dad's on Friday. I'll stay there Friday and Saturday nights, and then head back to San Diego.

But probably not until I have a Cubano or two...