DANSKE RAPSOLIE

Sometimes referred to as Field Mustard, I had always thought the fields of yellow I saw in Canada were exactly that, mustard.  In fact, it's Canola.  Perhaps you knew this already and I'm a bit slow to identify this popular cash crop...  When touring around Skælskør, or on your way to one of the surrounding towns of Borreby, Næstved, or Slagelse, the Danish rural landscape at this time of year is a stunning blanket of yellow.  

Canola oil is produced from the crushing of the rapeseed.  The word "rape" in rapeseed comes from the Latin word rapum meaning turnip. Turnips, rutabaga, cabbage, brussel sprouts, and mustard are all related to the two natural canola varieties commonly grown, which are Brassica napus and Brassica rapa.  The Danes use this literal translation Rapsolie (rapeseed oil).  Since canola was bred naturally from rapeseed at the University of Manitoba by Keith  Downey and Baldur R. Stefansson in the early 1970s, and most likely disproving of the alternate meaning of the word "rape", the plant and oil product was retitled canola (the "can" standing for Canada and "ola" oil).  Some dictionary sources state that Canola stands for "Can(ada)+o(il)+l(ow)+a(cid)" as this plant was engineered to have a different nutritional profile and much less erucic acid. 

Brassica oilseed has a long history of being cultivated dating back 4,000 years in India, 2,000 years in China and Japan and in 13th century Northern Europe.  Primarily produced in small quantities as fuel for oil lamps, its use was limited until the development of steam power and the discovery of its use as a lubricant.  During WWII when this product became in high demand, Canada began to expand its limited rapeseed production as the war blocked European and Asian sources of rapeseed oil.

After the war, however, the demand sharply declined and Canada began to look for other uses for rapeseed.  In 1956-57 rapeseed oil extracts were first put on the market as as food products.  This was not successful due to the disagreeable greenish colour, a high concentration of erucic acid and a distinctive taste.  Hence the breeding of canola from rapeseed in the early 70s.

Originally a trademark, canola is now a generic term for edible varieties of rapeseed oil in North America and Australia.  Once considered a specialty crop in Canada it's now a major American cash crop.  Canada and the US produce between 7 - 10 million tonnes of canola seed per year.  Annual Canadian exports total 3 - 4 million tonnes of seed, 800 000 tonnes of canola oil and 1 million tonnes of canola meal.  Canada rates 2nd for top rapeseed producers in the world, after the European Union in 1st.  Denmark rates 16th in the world only 4 countries after the US at 11th place.  That is a lot of rapeseed production in Denmark considering how small this country is.   Who knew canola could be both so beautiful and mildly interesting.

THE APOCALYPSE TAPESTRY

And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood;

And the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind.
And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together; and every mountain and island were moved out of their places. Rev 6:12-14

The Book of Revelations is a strange and elusive text, ripe with fantastical imagery, horrors and miracles.   It describes the apocalypse as seen in a vision by Saint John and has been fodder for artists for centuries.  Back in 1370, the Duke of Anjou commissioned the making of a tapestry to illustrate this great clash between good and evil.  The result was 90 scenes spanning close to 500 feet. After considerable mistreatment during the French Revolution (some sections were used as horse blankets and shrouds for fruit trees), 71 of the original 90 remain.  Henri, Juliann and I decided that this spectacle was worth the 3 hour drive from Paris to Château Angers where it's now housed.

And they worshipped the dragon which gave power unto the beast: and they worshipped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? who is able to make war with him? Rev. 13:4

And the fifth angel sounded, and I saw a star fall from heaven unto the earth: and to him was given the key of the bottomless pit.
And he opened the bottomless pit; and there arose a smoke out of the pit, as the smoke of a great furnace; and the sun and the air were darkened by reason of the smoke of the pit.
And there came out of the smoke locusts upon the earth: and unto them was given power, as the scorpions of the earth have power.
And it was commanded them that they should not hurt the grass of the earth, neither any green thing, neither any tree; but only those men which have not the seal of God in their foreheads.

And to them it was given that they should not kill them, but that they should be tormented five months: and their torment was as the torment of a scorpion, when he striketh a man.
And in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.

And the shapes of the locusts were like unto horses prepared unto battle; and on their heads were as it were crowns like gold, and their faces were as the faces of men.And they had hair as the hair of women, and their teeth were as the teeth of lions.

And they had breastplates, as it were breastplates of iron; and the sound of their wings was as the sound of chariots of many horses running to battle.

And they had tails like unto scorpions, and there were stings in their tails: and their power was to hurt men five months. Rev 9:1-10

And the second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain burning with fire was cast into the sea: and the third part of the sea became blood;
And the third part of the creatures which were in the sea, and had life, died; and the third part of the ships were destroyed. Rev 8:8-9

And there came one of the seven angels which had the seven vials, and talked with me, saying unto me, Come hither; I will shew unto thee the judgment of the great whore that sitteth upon many waters:With whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication, and the inhabitants of the earth have been made drunk with the wine of her fornication.
So he carried me away in the spirit into the wilderness: and I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns.
And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication:
And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH.
And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration. Rev 16:1-6

And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels,And prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven.
And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him. Rev 12:7-9

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth. Rev 6:8

WISTERIA

Wisteria always makes me think of murder.  It was probably the Sherlock Holmes story "The Adventure at Wisteria Lodge" that got me started, but having lived with Wisteria for many years, I've come to learn her strangling ways as she has attempted to choke the lilac and the power cables.  I do believe that Wisteria could eventually pull the house down if left to her own devices.

I'm lucky to get a score of blooms, so I was shocked and jealous to see the purple petals in abundance all over Paris.  That town loves to prune so rethinking my tentative snips, I got aggressive in preparation for Toronto's spring.  You'll see her at the bottom looking naked and forlorn in contrast to her French sisters.  

FABERGÉ ABROAD : TOUR DE FANCY

It must have been the claustrophobia of staying on a houseboat with three other people. "I'm not taking the bus with you," I told Matthew. "I'm getting a bike."

"As in, a bicycle?" He seemed incredulous. 

"I'm fit enough!" 

"Henri," he tempered his tone, "you're talking about riding a bicycle from Amsterdam to Paris. You haven't even bought travel insurance." 

"I will", I promised. So I bought a bicycle. Though I never did get around to buying travel insurance. Feel free to criticize the manner in which my oversized German military backpack is strapped on; I am the first to admit it made for a treacherous wobble and eventually it had to be turned sideways to be at least somewhat functional.

Next, I bought this cycling jersey at the Amsterdam flea market, but it turns out Löffler is a German company. Still, the psychedelic design seemed an appropriate souvenir from a country where all manner of silly substances are on offer.

I am not a practical man, and within a few kilometres of leaving the city I realized I had no idea how to get to Rotterdam. My sense of adventure is based on concept, not practicality. As dumb luck would have it, I bumped into an American woman named Amanda who was also travelling by overly laden bicycle and who knew the way. "I was recently fired from my job in London," she lamented, with a calm resolve and a face not dissimilar to Jodie Foster.

 

My stay in Rotterdam was extended by an extra day, due to the fact that my back wheel hadn't been built properly. Many of the spokes were so poorly attached to the nipples, it was a wonder I made it those first 65 kilometres. I finally set off to Antwerp ("you're putting the twerp in Antwerp!" messaged all my most clever friends) without my American guide and, despite a nice selection of cycling paths, a whopping 120 kilometres to travel. Remember, I am a cycling enthusiast but by no means experienced in long distances like this. It was also incredibly confusing to navigate the intricacies of the "designated cycling route" in a country where I know no language other than my own.  At one point I found myself on a freeway, praying that a transport truck wouldn't drag me under and prematurely end my trip/life (travel insurance wouldn't have been much use then anyway!). Then again, I got to take a sweet little ferry across a canal.  Getting to Belgium took me most of the day. 

Antwerp to Brussels was another 65 kilometres or so. Although I was starting to feel mild trauma in my legs, my crotch was relatively intact thanks to a well-crafted leather Brooks saddle. I marvelled for far too long about Europe's love for cyclists, as most routes had dedicated track of red brick to mark their reign. It was musings such as these that occupied my thoughts as I had been travelling for a few days now, and hadn't spoken out loud much. On the bike I was listening to the same simple playlist of Toronto favourites - Petra Glynt, Bizzarh, Lido Pimienta, Phedre - and felt intrinsically linked to the artistic scene back home despite the incongruous juxtaposition of soundtrack and scenery. The bicycle became a meditative space for me, a propulsion forward that was both exhausting and liberating. Certainly, I met some really interesting people and felt drawn to stay for longer than one night; mere hours after arriving in Brussels I was watching an amazing band from Switzerland at a packed bar. But ultimately I knew that this journey was one of internal discovery. I was determined to continue until I found France. 

I finally reached that border I so eagerly sought, but not before I was punished for my rambling approach. Little did I know as I left Brussels at 10 AM that my day would turn out to be a 140 kilometre affair, as I meandered from village to village, cyling path to highway shoulder, Ath to Tournai and beyond. Some of the designated routes turned to ugly mud and it began to rain. I knew that once I reached my destination - Roubaix, France - I would most likely continue on to Paris via train. I felt a little disappointed but also relieved that I could bring an end to a conceptual whim based on a reasonable understanding of my limitations. My legs would not fully recover for another two weeks.