Cosmic Prose

Natasha Regehr

Tag: Social (Page 1 of 2)

Do Not Enter

September 13, 2018 / / 1 Comment

Three years ago I had a disastrous encounter with a maestro who shall not be named.  It would not be a stretch to say that there were elements of trauma to that evening.  Before you go any further, you should probably read the amusing, but heart-wrenching account of my first audition experience in Casablanca.

Now, three years later, I did the unthinkable thing, and repeated the experience.  Same never-ending round-about.  Same obscure church entrance.  Same ghastly maestro.  Same everything.  But not the same me. Continue reading

Faux French, Riviera Style

July 11, 2018 / / 2 Comments

Have you been wondering how I’ve been faring since I bade farewell to les vaches?

I am slowly adjusting to life on the French Riviera.

Slowly.

My drive here was uneventful, except for that time my GPS became my enemy and led me in circles for two hours in downtown Nice during the height of tourist season.  Navigation systems don’t do well with pedestrian-only streets.  That’s all I’ll say about that.

And now I am perched on a hill overlooking the uppity town of Villefranche-sur-mer, with its uppity yachts, BMWs, and fake hedges. Why anyone would need a fake hedge in this lotus land is beyond me, but there it is.  Why water a real hedge when you can buy a fake one?

No, to be honest, I’m missing the friendly, down-to-earth charm of my village in the Alps.  Well, okay, the cows were not so friendly.  But there was an endearing honesty to that place, a sense that life had substance, and that everything else was somehow false.

Not so with the French Riviera.  Everything here feels half-empty, like the soul of the place just drained out into the Mediterranean when the people all arrived. I’m sure at one time it was quaint and delightful and historically significant; but right now, it feels to me like a toy neighbourhood, constructed out of blocks and toothpicks and dotted with plastic accessories.  Doll houses, all, papered in Euros…

But I, too, am a falsehood, here on the French Riviera.

Continue reading

Royal Wedding Recant

May 23, 2018 / / 1 Comment

True story: I posted my Royal Wedding Rant in the wee hours of the night, and then hastily took it down the next morning, when, in the cold light of day, I realized that I had typified myself as a bitter old woman with no hope – but not before a robust 39 people had had the opportunity to read it and form opinions about my perceived state of ongoing misery.

Therefore I feel I must further unpack my comments, and perhaps qualify them with a few points that, in my state of royal grumpiness, I had overlooked.

First: I stand by my suggestion that perhaps there was a touch too much money poured into this particular matrimonial event. No woman, princess or not, needs a $600,000 wedding dress.  I also feel duly entitled to my opinion that all of the media hoop-la was a little excessive.  But then again, I feel the same way about the idolization of rich and famous people in general.  I simply have no interest in pop culture and its dull derivatives.  I prefer dead baroque musicians.  Call me quirky.

So there we go.  The royal wedding phenomenon, as a newsworthy event, struck me as a rather silly over-investment of time and money, when there are so many more interesting things in the world with which to occupy oneself.  French grammar, for instance.  I truly do get a kick out of French grammar.

Yes, I’ll concede that I’m an anomaly when it comes to entertainment.

But that does not make me a bitter old woman with no hope.  For that, we must address my feelings about weddings, and marriage, in general.  And that is a stickier topic indeed. Continue reading

Greece, Part 2: A Little Gruff Around the Edges

November 6, 2017 / / 1 Comment

Greeks can be gruff.  This is my studied opinion after spending a week in the myth-infused homeland of the gods, with its gruesome stories of bickering deities vying for power and favour.

My Airbnb hostess in Athens was the first to freak out at me.  “Why are you late? You should have called! I have a baby! I’ve been waiting for you in this apartment for eight hours now!”  For the record, I was not eight hours late, my hostess lived a mere 15 minutes away from the apartment, and I communicated with her the instant my plane landed, so now that I think about it, I’m kind of sorrynotsorry…

Then came the old couple on the ferry.  The ones who freaked out when I took one of six empty seats around a table, because they had, in absentia, appropriated all six seats for themselves – only to abandon them after I meekly relocated.   I sat at the next table and gave them the evil eye for the rest of the trip.  Yeah, mister.  You’d better get out your worry beads. Continue reading

2016 Gratitude List

October 10, 2016 / / 1 Comment

I am thankful for the big things: the people who make my world beautiful every day, both here in Morocco and in my other happy home in Canada; for the many places in between that I’ve been able to visit this year (twelve airports, if I’ve counted correctly!); for the rich cultures and histories that intersect my days; for meaningful work; and for the provisions that allow me to keep on living this colourful, promising life.

But every Thanksgiving, I take a few hours to collect all the smaller thanksgivings I’ve recorded throughout the year as well – those things that, at the end of each day, remind me that there is always, always a little goodness to be found, or to create, with a small turn of the mind.

Here, then, is my 2016 Gratitude List, beginning with last year’s Thanksgiving trip to an all-inclusive resort in Southern Morocco, and ending with yesterday’s roast chicken at home. I invite you to walk through my year of thankfulness with me: Continue reading

The Bavarian Alps

Find Your Blick: An Alpine Adventure

August 28, 2016 / / 2 Comments

When your travel buddy deserts you in the middle of a mountain, you have a choice to make: do you follow her to the local spa to be coddled for the rest of the day, or do you carry on without her?

I chose to carry on.

Poor Jennifer. She didn’t really desert me. She just wasn’t feeling well. We had taken the cable car to the top of Mount Jenner, and halfway down again, hoping to do the last 8.5 km on foot. In her bodily distress, she opted to ride all the way down, but I refused: “No way, not me. I did not come to the Bavarian Alps to do a wussy cable-car descent. I came to hike, and hike I will!”

IMG_8801She waved a cheery good-bye and floated away in her glass carriage, and I confess, I gulped a little. Me – find my way across the mountain and down to Lake Königssee, then catch the boat to Kessel, the bus to Berchtesgaden, and the train to Bad Reichenhall – without my GPS? Or Google maps? Without even my phone to look after me if I get lost? No cell service, no wi-fi, no homing pigeons… just me, a pamphlet, and a series of destinations? Me – the wanderer who can barely get from home to work and back again without an unintentional detour? Without a functioning phone? Not even one?

Yes, me. I can do this. I’m an Adventurous Adult. Continue reading

Taroudant, Part 2: Entrez!

January 26, 2016 / / 5 Comments

Last month I met an old man who totally hijacked my vacation.  You can meet him here.  And now, the rest of the story…

We sleep comfortably on the third or fourth floor of the mid-medina palace. It is plain enough on the outside, but on the inside it is equipped with no fewer than five salons, each capable of seating at least twenty friends and relations. Hospitable people, these. The sunshine from the terrace skylight shines down all three grated floors, so even the bowels of this vertical mansion have natural light. And yes, on this penthouse floor, there is a waiting toilet. It only takes a few twists and cranks to figure out how to flush. Easy.

Continue reading

Swan Song

May 11, 2015 / / 2 Comments

“Hey, are these guys any good?” I asked, gesturing at the Peterborough Singers brochures on the counter. It was February, 2008, and I was hauling yet another load of mistreated school band instruments to B Flat Music for a little TLC.

“Oh, yes, very good!” declared Peg McCracken.

“You’ve heard them, then?” I asked skeptically.

“Heard them? I’ve sung with them for eighteen years!”

Undaunted, I pressed her further. “What kind of music do they sing?” I was not into the flaky schmaltz that so many community choirs seem to thrive on. I made that immediately and unapologetically clear.

“Well, we’re singing Bach’s St. Matthew Passion in our next concert. You should join us!”

Wait. A. Minute. Are you telling me that a place exists in Peterborough where I can go and sing exclusively Bach for two hours a week, every single week, until May? Pinch me hard; I must be dreaming.

“Start by coming to our concert this weekend. If you like it, we can set up an audition.”

I went. The moment the choir started singing, Continue reading

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