Paris of the Prairie

 One of the great moments on our recent Manitoba/Saskatchewan CFL Trip of Excellence, was stopping by Montmartre, Saskatchewan. I'm famous/infamous for, in the days leading up to a trip, doing research on "odd things to do in _______", which led us to the Eifel Tower replica in the small, dusty town of Montmartre.  When we turned of the Trans-Canada Highway and Kevin's GPS told him that we would go straight for ten miles on a dirt road before turning onto another dirt road, he said, somewhat seriously, "are you sure you want to do this?" I replied, "Are you asking me?" As all of my travelling companions know, my answer is always a definitive yes. Years and years ago, when I was travelling with my friend Michelle for Champlain, we'd always joke that I should wear a WWMD (What Would Michelle Do?) bracelet and she should wear a WWGD (What Would Gary Do?) bracelet for guidance on ours trips. The joke being that they were both useless, since Michelle would naturally do nothing and would definitely sign off on anything. Anyway, we travelled on and found the Eifel Tower, which was a wonderful side trip. I wish that more had been open in town, because I would have loved to explore a bit and show Montmartre some love, both emotional and financial. I'll stop by again on my next trip to Saskatchewan.

Here's a view of the Eifel Tower, with Kevin and the sleepy town of Montmartre in the background.

And here's the backstory. The short version of the story is that over a century ago a group of folks from the suburbs of Paris decided to try and their lot in the new world (one wonders what was happening in the suburbs of Paris in the 1890s that made the unknown plains of Saskatchewan seem like a much better option). A century later, the town still had a clear sense of their French roots, and decided to raise the money to put up a replica of the Eifel Tower. They are/were very coureagous and plucky folks.

Movies in 2026 212

 

Take Me In Your Arms (Julio Bracho, 1954)

The Manitoba/Saskatchewan Doubleheader of Excellence provided, well, much excellence, but it also threw off my movie-watching schedule. I was able to watch another Ninon Sevilla classic, Julio Bracho's 1954 Take Me In Your Arms. Like other Rumberas films, it's a fascinating mixture of film noir, social criticism, eroticism, and big dance numbers (all orchestrated by Ninon Sevilla). You'll never watch a Bumberas movie and regret the decision, and this is no exception. Recommended.

Taco In A Bag

 Yesterday we made it back from the Manitoba/Saskatchewan CFL Doubleheader of Excellence. So, expect to see several posts detailing this DOE. I'll start with a quick post: the long-awaited Taco in a Bag. We came across this delicacy last year at the Calgary Stampeders game, but that was the day when, although it was June, the game was so cold - pouring rain, forty mph wind, temperature of 40F - that all the exterior food shops were closed almost immediately because of the cold. So, between seeing the Taco in a Bag on the way in - and halftime, when we stumbled up to the concourse to regain feeling in our hands - the TIAB shop closed down (and I don't blame them, because it was bitter and the folks didn't need to sit there freezing to death). In the meantime, however, the Taco in a Bag had reached mythic proportions in our popular imagination, so much so that when we researched new stadiums the first thing we would do is try to locate stands that sold the TIAB. Thankfully, the Winnipeg Blue Bombers delivered on this delicacy.

It's sort of like a Frito Pie, if you're fortunate enough to get that reference. 

 

Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame

 Tomorrow we're taking off for another Canadian adventure (Blue Bombers/Roughriders doubleheader with my friends Kevin and Cyndi), and I still haven't finished posting stories from the last Canadian adventure (Hamilton trip with my cousin Nick). In between writing (fitfully), trying to organize the house, planning the move (we do now have an apartment), and working through retirement stuff (as I opined to a friend, I think retirement will be relaxing, but retiring is stressful). Anyway, let me get down some thoughts and upload a few pictures from out lovely stop at the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame. On a drive across Canada years ago, my friend Kevin and I spotted a sign for the Hall, and I promised myself that I'd get back there. Well, it took too many years, but I decided to take advantage of the Hamilton trip to keep that promise to myself (it was facilitated by the fact that I was driving west from Hamilton to drop down into Michigan. Getting to St. Marys, Ontario was a bit of a challenge, although part of that was caused by some traffic work. The traffic wench took me all over the place as I drove through some lovely Canadian farmland (it felt like I had dumped off the interstate in Ohio and was trying to find the original Bob Evans farm), but I really liked the drive. I highly recommend visiting the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame, and might try to overcome the logistical nightmare of making it back for Joey Votto's celebration when he makes it.

It's a non-descript little building tucked away in St. Marys, but it holds a treasure trove of goodies.

I knew they would celebrate Jackie Robinson, as he played for Montreal before being called up to the major leagues. It was a moving tribute, and his comments about being treated like a man (and not as a "colored man") echoed Miles Davis's reflection on spending time in Paris, far away from an intensely racist America.

There was, happily, a real recognition of First Nation players.

I didn't expect to find Sparky Anderson, the manager of the Big Red Machine of the 1970s enshrined, but he played and managed in Canada.

I knew there would be a celebration of Joey Votto, and it's just a matter of time before he's enshrined in the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame (and almost certainly at Cooperstown as well).

The cap from Votto's three homer game (which tied the record for most homers in a game by a Canadian player).

And, finally, St., Marys is a lovely little town. Nick and I stopped by a nice little place for a great lunch. I'd definitely like to return in the future.

Movies in 2026 211

 

The Searchers (John Ford, 1956)

I don't know what I could possibly say about John Ford's 1956 classic The Searchers which hasn't already been said. To me it's one of the greatest films ever made, and undeniably one of the top five American films (as in, made in the US, but also relating to the American experience) - and clearly the greatest Western ever made. Today it routinely makes film critics' lists for greatest film. That said, when it came out it didn't receive even one Academy Award nomination, not one, in any category. Even today, the average film fan hasn't seen it. Inexplicable. It's not simply the beautiful scenery, exquisite photography, and the best John Wayne performance, but it's also a brilliant condemnation of American racism. I suppose there will be a time when I am tired of watching The Searchers, but, as John Wayne's Ethan would opine, "That'll be the day." Essential, required viewing.

Mothmen

 Just posting another picture from yesterday's get-together. It was wonderful to see Garrett while he's in town, and, as always, spending time with my son is everything to me.

My family has produced some handsome men, except for that guy in the middle, who is pretty hideous.

Movies in 2026 210

 

One Man Up (Paolo Sorrentino, 2001)

When I think of the directors alive today who are still working away, and who I absolutely love, there are several folks who immediately jump to mind: Jia Zhangke, Joachim Trier, Dag Johan Haugerud, Hlynur Palmason, Hal Hartley, etc. Having said that, my choice for my own personal favorite might be Paolo Sorrentino. I've written about his exquisite The Great Beauty, which would be on my very short list for greatest films of this millennium, but I also really liked The Consequences of Love and The Hand of God. Last night I re-watched his first film, One Man Up, and it's a film that I absolutely love. It stars his frequent collaborator, Toni Servillo (as Antonio "Tony" Pisapis) and Andrea Renzi (as Antonio Pisapis). Yes, they share the same name, and essentially the same destiny: two once famous figures - Servillo as a singer and Renzi as a soccer player - who suffer a face from grace, and something like a redemption, although a redemption through a Sorrentino lens. It's funny and sad and profound, and chock full of those oddities you'd expect to find in a Sorrentino filo (Servillo's fascination with cooking fish, including the wonderful final scene). Toni Servillo is, as always, extraordinary, and he probably is the greatest actor working today. Essential.