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Jetlag is a bitch. My circadian clock is all screwed up. I didn’t adhere to the sage advice of sleeping on the plane when traveling from west to east, so that meant that I was wide awake until 8am Iceland time (or 1am Vancouver time). And only gave myself a brief 4 hours of zzzzz’s, so I wouldn’t sleep the day away.
All roads lead to Hallgrímskirkja.
I may not be participating in this year’s Diner en Blanc soiree, but I certainly knew where it was going to be held before most of the 4,500+ revelers did. That’s because working for Pan Pacific Vancouver, I got the inside scoop that the location was going to be the north end of Canada Place. That’s downstairs and right outside the hotel.
And I was tasked to take some photos and post it to the social channels.
Sure, we’re humans to Charlie and Jonesy, but we also have honorary cats hanging around at Casa de Sullichan. I don’t know if it’s some cat radar, but we’ve been seeing an uptick of kitties around the house. Not that we’re complaining. We like when our visitor friends come around, even though it drives Jonesy a little bonkers.
I was headed to the train station when I came upon this young man busking a French song on his accordion. Normally, I try to get the hell out of dodge as soon as I can, but this scene stopped me in my tracks. The scene is so French. And it reminds me of when I went to Paris.
He brought all his props with him. (the suitcases and portable record player were a nice touch, don’t you think?) And he was dressed like a street urchin. White shirt half tucked into his flood water pants and the no socks look. Lace-up shoes, suspenders and that floppy hair. And he played Piaf in front of the art gallery. Because, of course.
This is how you’d get me to stick around after work.