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I built this website for sharing pictures, sounds and writing about travel, cooking, music or anything else I think is worth documenting. I wanted to have somewhere to do this without the distraction and noise of popular social media. Please take your time here: read, look at the pictures and listen to the sounds.
I have been a professional chef for most of my life and for the last decade I have been studying Korean food, language and culture. I have traveled to Korea many times to eat, explore and practice language. Cooking posts will mostly focus here.
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Excerpts from the Circular File #1
The Circular File Cabinet
As a teenager, I had a job in a photography shop. Sometimes when we were organizing the office, I would come across piles of old invoices or memos. When I asked my manager how to deal with them, he would often say to put them in the “circular file” which meant the garbage can. At the time, I thought that was really funny and I still think of it when I am chucking paper in the trash. What you are about to read below is rescued from the “circular file” on my computer.
A Writing Exercise
My parents had several Czechoslovak friends who immigrated here with them and ended up driving taxi cabs. Even my dad drove a cab for a while. When I was little, I overheard quite a few stories about the passengers they picked up (only the most wholesome ones of course..I can’t imagine the stories my parents heard after i went to bed!).
Some time ago, I was in the middle of writing a long story in which a main character immigrates to Canada from the former Czechoslovakia and becomes a taxi driver in Toronto. At the time, I thought it would be useful to write a few little vignettes about possible passengers, just to get my mind into the space of the taxi cab. I tried to imagine a collection of different people my main character Jaro might pick up and how, in a short space of time, they could change the way he sees the world in some small way.
I ended up with a handful of them which I will post up on here from time to time. They are not really a part of the bigger work, just fun exercises. None of them are the real stories that I heard as a little kid. All these characters and events are fictional and any resemblance to real people and events is coincidental (as they say).
Jaro is the taxi drivers name in my story. In Czech, “j” makes a “y” sound. So, to pronounce it correctly in English, you would say Yaro. This is a very common male Slavic name.

Jaro’s Taxi Fares: The Translator
Jaro picks her up in front of the Fairfield Hotel on Bloor Street West. She pulls open the door, tosses her bag inside and jumps into the back.
“Hi” she says in a big voice, her round eyes beaming at Jaro in the rear view mirror. “Going to the airport, no rush so please drive easy. I don’t have a good stomach for fast car rides” Jaro obliges, trying to be gentle with the accelerator as they pull out into traffic.
“I don’t spend a lot of time in cars back home you see?”
Jaro asks about her home country and finds out that she is Sorosian. Jaro thinks for a minute and replies that he is not too familiar with Soros.
“Not surprised” she answers. He asks her if she knows Czechoslovakia.
“Sure thing…thrown together from parts of the the Hapsburg Empire after the first world war, occupied by commies after 1968, Velvet Revolution in 1989, Velvet divorce in the early 90s… Now the porn capital of Eastern Europe! Velvet PUSSY! HAHAHA!“ Jaro is slightly offended but also impressed. He laughs. She isn’t wrong.
She explains that she is here for a consultation on a James Welter novel she is in the middle of translating.
“To be honest, I didn’t need a consultation. I just made that up to get a free ride here. I have always wanted to visit Canada” she admitted. “I just write whatever I want anyways! HAHAHA!” she laughed maniacally.
“What do you mean?” Jaro asked.
“Well, the government of Soros is paying for translations of English novels into Soro to promote the language and keep it alive. Part of an Indigenous Language and Culture Preservation Program. There are about twenty-four thousand Sorosians left and less than half can speak the language…just the parents and grandparents mostly. The kids just want to speak English and watch Korean dramas.” Jaro nods in the front seat.
“Welter’s bullshit mystery novels seem to be popular everywhere so that’s why I got this assignment. The Sorosian government wants to translate these kinds of easy readers and then promote them in local bookstores and libraries. They hope that the kids might pick them up and read them in their native language”. Jaro keeps quiet as he takes a gentle right turn.
“But I’ll tell you that there isn’t one Sorosian interested in a Canadian mystery novel set in a quiet prairie town. Myself included. So when I get bored I just make up whatever I want. No one will EVER notice.”
“You really do this?” Jaro asks.
“Sure! Like when Detective McCall is staking out the town library waiting for the Deauville Gang to break in and steal the Group of Seven painting?…I got so bored…I made McCall stake out a highway strip club instead. He gets bored and goes into the club, gets drunk on Seagrams 7, gets a lap dance and a HAND JOB! HAHAHA!” Jaro flushes a little at the language coming from this small well dressed academic.
“Welter can’t read it and no Sorosian will read that shit either!’ And certainly no one will read it in both languages and compare. So I am free to entertain myself while I get paid! HAHAHA”. Jaro chuckles.
“Anyways, I probably improved the book and I really just came here to see the snow. It doesn’t snow in Soros but I LOVE snow. There is nothing more beautiful to me. That’s why I came in winter. I spent the last couple of days near Collingwood. Lots of snow. Do you like winter?” Jaro was always surprised to find another winter lover, especially from a warm country. He replied that winter was his favourite season apart from the city driving and that he especially liked the sound snow made under his boots.
“I have travelled all over the place looking for snow and the best is Japan. The snowiest country in the world is Japan” said the translator.
“Japan” Jaro repeats as he eases on the brakes.
“Yes! Isn’t it surprising? For every centimeter of snow you get here, they get a meter. There are towering walls of snow along the roadways”. Jaro imagines an earthquake and what would happen to those snow walls on the highway…always imagining things from behind the steering wheel.
“If you really love winter, go to Hokkaido in January. I could die happy there”. Jaro replies that he is not sure if he will ever get to Japan.
“If you love winter, if you love snow, you should try to go…I went to translate a volume of Soseki Haiku and never wanted to leave. Do you know Haiku? Short poems, 17 syllables, nature? Absolute murder to translate into Soro but I did my best. They are just gorgeous, no embellishment needed. Definitely no handjob Haiku!! HAHAHA!” Jaro chuckled again and shifted in his seat a little.
“I love poetry the most. Novels are just so much noise and repetitive storytelling sometimes. All ego. Not poetry and definitely not Haiku.”
She pulled a small notebook out of her bag and opened it on her lap. She was silent for the rest of the ride. Jaro liked her sense of humour and her crazy laugh. He drove quietly hoping she would pipe up again but she seemed to be absorbed in her notes. When they arrived at Terminal 3, he pulled to the curb and walked around the car to let her out. She snatched up her bag and bounced out of the back seat.
“It was a pleasure meeting you Velvet snow man…I hope you take my advice”. Jaro laughed and said he would think about it. Just before she turned to go, she handed him a neatly folded page from her notebook.
“5-7-5” she said. Then she skipped off into the terminal building. Jaro got back in the cab, unfolded the paper and read:
If I disappear
Come find me here in winter
Snow white Hokkaido
He counted the syllables on his fingers as he read it two more times. 5-7-5. It was beautiful. He would think about it. He tucked the paper under the elastic band on his sun visor and drove away.
Natural Spotlighting
***your phone will crush all the details in these photos. It is better to view this on a bigger screen***
Facing East
Every morning I make coffee and then sit at an old table to study or write. My cat hops up, curls into a ball, and sleeps beside me while I work and listen to chill music. This is my favourite time of day. At the opposite end of the room there are a few tall and narrow windows that let in the bright morning sun. This warm light filters in through the trees, slowly circles the room, and then gradually disappears. This scene changes a little bit every day and every season brings a new variation. I never get tired of looking at it. In the picture below, you can see what I see on a summer morning…

Natural Spotlighting
I began to notice moments when a ray of morning sun would pass through gaps between leaves and illuminate some small part of the room as if to say: “look at this!”. Whatever it touched would glow in this focused light. It reminded me of a spotlight on a dark stage, but made of sunlight. It was kind of a natural spotlight. I wondered if there was some way to capture this in a photograph. I was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be easy.
Technical Difficulties
When I set out to make these photos, I decided that I wouldn’t move things into a spot of light. The scenes would just have to happen on their own and it was my job to notice them and to try to capture them with my camera.
One problem was that the weather had to provide hard contrast between areas of light and shade. All of the photos below had to be taken from a shady area pierced by a strong beam of bright sunlight. Less than a big-blue-sky sunny day wouldn’t work for any of these pictures.
The bigger problem was getting my camera to see what I was seeing in my imagination. It took hundreds of photos and nearly two months to figure it out. The main subject is intensely lit, but because the photos are shot on very bright days, even the shade is full of light, So, if I exposed the spotlit subject accurately, the background would still creep into the photo.
Most of the problem was solved when I experimented with severely underexposing all of the shots (like 2 to 3 stops of underexposure!). This caused the shadows to fade to black and, as a bonus, added rich colour saturation to the main subject. This underexposure usually worked to produce the photos that I was imagining.
The Photographs


















What John Irving said…
I once read an interview with the novelist John Irving where he said that his approach to writing is to start with the ending and then figure out how to get there. That’s where the hard work is. My approach to some photography projects is similar. I start with a specific mental image of a finished photograph and then figure out how to work with natural light and the camera to get there. This is never easy but I usually end of with something unique, something I haven’t seen before. If you are interested in seeing a couple of older photo projects that came about in the same spirit as this one, have a look here and here.
The images above are simple but making them was a challenge and I am happy with the way they turned out. I don’t do any photo editing other than some slight cropping sometimes. I try to get the photos that I want directly out of the camera. It’s not that i think that there is anything wrong with post-processing. It is just a different kind of photography and I don’t enjoy doing it.
I hope you liked these photos. If you have any questions or comments or if you know the names of any of the plants up above, please feel free to leave a message in the space below. I always look forward to hearing from you.
If you enjoy the content and would like to contribute towards website maintenance and development, you can make a donation here. Thank you for reading TigerSalad.
Three Things Unrelated: Jazz, Aging and Snakes
First: Little kids and jazz

Sonny Rollins was 95 when he died on May 25th of this year. Coming up during the golden age of jazz, he had a lifelong career as a world class horn player. He was my favourite jazz musician and I spent a lot of time listening to his recordings over the last couple of decades. I was sad when I heard that he was gone.
When my daughter was very little, we used to lay on my bed every evening and listen to records. We listened to all kinds of music, including jazz from the 50s and 60s. Sonny Rollins was on frequent rotation and I think my daughter could probably still recognize many of his tunes.
Later on, my daughter got interested in playing the trumpet (we listened to Clifford Brown and Miles Davis too). And, at the same time, I picked up the tenor saxophone. For the time that we lived in our own house, where we could make all the noise we wanted, we both practised hard and made some good progress. I learned to play some of my favourite Sonny Rollins tunes and she became the one man horn section in a string of school rock bands. We could even play some simple jazz standards together.
In 2015, at only 14 years old, she played trumpet backing a band at Lee’s Palace for the NXNE festival. It’s wild to think of how many bands we have seen on that stage since then. It was a very proud moment as a parent!
After Sonny died, I spent some time thinking about how my daughter came to absorb this music as a little kid. As an adult, I don’t think she puts on too many 60s jazz records but, I do know that she likes the music. And that she “gets it”.



The problem with jazz / the problem with adults
Jazz is a polarizing genre. People seem to love it or hate it. Most of the adults I know don’t listen to much jazz music at all. I am not talking about Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald here…more like bebop and hard bop…Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Charles Mingus, Charlie Parker, Sonny Rollins etc…
I think to enjoy this kind of jazz you have to just accept it and let it flow into you without any biases or expectations. This music is emotional, even spiritual, and trying to “understand” it is not that helpful. Trying to force it into some familiar musical context is not that helpful either. You just have to passively let it in.
This kind of passive listening is difficult for most of us. Adults apply their biases and filters to quickly judge and label new experiences. As we grow up, our brains are trained to be more efficient (and less patient). Somewhere along the line, as we “mature”, we seem to lose the ability to passively take in the world around us without quantifying and calculating and cross referencing everything. Kids just run around and have fun while adults consult the health apps on their smartphones to judge whether they have accomplished any worthwhile goals. “Hey, what’s your step count?”
I think adults tend to apply the same kind of quick judgments and calculations to evaluate unfamiliar music. In the first 5 minutes of an impatient listen to something like John Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme”, you might think: “harsh”, “noisy”, “chaotic”, “irritating”. But if you stop trying to find the beat or a recognizable melody, if you just relax and let it in, you will experience something very different. What I mean is: put your phone in another room, lay down on the floor, close your eyes and just listen to the whole record uninterrupted. Then see how you feel.
How many adults would be willing to spend 45 minutes trying something like that? Not too many I am sure. Please let me know if you try!
What children will always do better…
Passively experiencing the world is natural and easy for children. Kids spend at least the first 8-10 years of their lives wide open to absorbing new information and experiences. This is their job as little humans learning how to survive. Because of this natural tendency to soak everything up without too much thought, I think early childhood is the best time to show kids “difficult” music like jazz or even classical. Don’t ask them if they like it. Just put it on and let them experience it in their unfiltered kid way.
“Kids” music is not the only music kids are capable of listening to. And, a lot of music made specifically for kids is trash. I think the goal is to keep the kids occupied and out of their parents hair. What’s worse is that AI will soon be writing most kid music (according to what seizes their attention and keeps them paralyzed in front of the screen). No fun, no learning, no real emotion. They need to hear something else, like a nutritional supplement for the ears: jazz or classical or klezmer music…all of it!
I would feel guilty if I didn’t admit that there is actually some wonderful kids music out there. But, I think it is very rare. A golden example from my daughters childhood is “Dora’s Pirate Adventure”. It has some of the most fun and addictive songs, written and played by talented session musicians on real instruments. The bass lines in particular are some of the best. No joke..I still listen to it from time to time. Check it out:
One of the most important jobs as a parent is to show the world to our kids. As much as possible. All the time. And from as many different angles as we can. I love music of all kinds and I wanted my daughter to share that. I wanted her to see beyond what’s popular and trendy and make up her own mind about what moves her.
Something I know as a parent…
Your kids are NEVER going to like everything that you like. And they will probably end up liking a lot of things that you can’t stand. Accept this fact from day one and just show them everything you can. If you let them discover what they like instead of trying to push them in one direction or another…you will both end up learning from each other. With music, I have learned as much from my kid as I have ever taught to her. And although our tastes are different in many ways, we still find enough common ground to enjoy going out to live shows often and just soaking it all in. Given the gap in our ages, I know exactly how precious this is.
Second: Aging as a process of loss
A couple of days ago, I spoke to my mom on the phone and she told me that her best friend had died. She had been sick for some time and the end had finally come for her. After we hung up, I felt a heavy sadness for a few days. The person who died was one of the kindest and sweetest people I remembered from childhood. She made the most delicious Polish food and always had a big cake from a fancy euro-bakery to eat after dinner. When I think of her I feel warm…the unfettered affection of a little boy in a safe place surrounded by love. She was really like a second mom to me.
This was a person that I spent a lot of time with as a young child. Their house was a gathering place. On weekends, my parents would drink and play cards with their friends until the sun came up and I would routinely fall asleep underneath a coffee table or in a big pile of coats. As a child of new immigrants, my family was somewhere far away. I had never met most of them. So, my parents’ young friends took their place. Czech, Slovak, Polish, Hungarian….we all mixed together to become our own kind of family. My parents were very young (20ish) so I was the only kid in the mix. And, I got nothing but love from all these perfumed ladies in sparkling dresses and giant moustached men…big warm hugs and tobacco smoke kisses. I loved them all deeply in the way that only a child can when they feel safe and truly cared for. They were my family. Nothing less.
Have you ever watched a Hirokazu Kore-eda film? I think “Shoplifters” is probably his most well-known movie in the west. Most of his films explore the idea of family and what it means to be part of one. All of the families in his films are unconventional in some way and sometimes they are even made up of completely unrelated people. But, by the end of the film, you come to realize that they are no less than a “real” family. And maybe they are even closer. He is one of my favourite directors and I think his stories feel so compelling to me because of the way I grew up.
After the news from my mom, I started thinking about all of the people who surrounded me back then. Not just acquaintances or people whose faces I knew but people who I truly loved as a child. It seemed to me that a lot of them had disappeared.

I decided to make a list of all the people in my childhood family. On the left side, I put the names of people who had died and on the right side, I put the names of people who were still alive. Of the twelve people I listed, only two are still here: my mom and dad. Writing down the names like that, summing up the living vs the dead came as kind of a shock. It was nothing I didn’t already know in some way… I guess. But to see it plotted out on paper was still surprising.
I like to read Haruki Murakami’s books. A common theme in his novels, and one that always sticks in my mind, is the idea of aging as a process of loss and the loneliness that grows as people disappear around you. I was feeling so much of this when I finished writing my list. All of these people that I could never replace. The kings and queens of my childhood.
Third: What I learned from snakes in my neighbourhood
Where are all the snakes?
There is a park nearby that is a good place to relax and get away from the noise of the city. It has a series of ponds and trails through woods and grasslands. I have seen many animals here over the years: turtles, frogs, birds, bats, beavers, muskrats, squirrels, raccoons, big insects, deer, coyotes, fish and giant toads. The one thing that I never saw for years was a snake. I really wanted to see a snake. I tried hard looking around all the places I thought a snake would be. But, for years on end, I never saw a single one.
Eventually I gave up looking for them. I just assumed that there were no snakes at the park. Then one year, on one of the first warm days of spring, I got a surprise. While squatting down beside a pond, a few feet away I saw the most beautiful Eastern Garter Snake. I think it had just come out of hibernation and it was moving around the shallow water at the pond’s edge. This one:
After this first sighting, I started to see snakes all the time. On a single day, I saw over twelve snakes! And now, when I go to the ponds, I see a snake almost every time. I know that the snakes have always been there but why couldn’t I see them? I looked for years but never saw one. Then when I stopped looking, they suddenly appeared.
Technological Tunnel-vision
I realized that what I was really looking for was a picture of a snake: evidence. As in pictures for social media. I was looking for a snake through the technological tunnel vision of my smartphone…what it would look like in a picture. And that narrow perspective was part of what was keeping them hidden. I don’t mean that I was actually looking for them through my phone camera. Just that the picture being the goal changed the way I experienced the environment.
Smartphones tighten our focus and distract us from everything else. You miss a lot when you are looking at the world through that little screen. It makes me think of fans who go to live concerts only to watch most of it through their phone screens while recording everything (to watch later?!). I saw Blackpink in a clip practically begging fans to put down their phones and participate in the show. It must be so frustrating for performers.
The way people experience travel these days is similar. It used to be the case that when people travelled, they would have to interact with local people to do or find anything. And, it was through these interactions with local people that they had some of their most impactful experiences. Nowadays, our smartphones are stuffed with translators, online reviews, Michelin stars, hotel booking apps and digital maps to take care of all of this for us. You can even ask AI to make a travel itinerary for you. You don’t really have to interact with anyone. Sometimes I think travel has become more like a scavenger hunt where visitors seek out all the “must have” food and photos they have seen on social media while trampling everything in their path to do so. It is a shallow way to travel and I think the best experiences never even get a chance to happen.
This is technological tunnel vision at work. At concerts, at tourist destinations and while looking for snakes too.
Seeing the bigger picture
The other reason I couldn’t find my snakes was because I was trying too hard. I just couldn’t see them even though they were probably right in front of me. When I stopped looking for them and spent more time just enjoying the space, the trees and the sunshine, suddenly there they were. I could only spot them when I softened my eyes and took a step back to take everything in. It felt kind of like those stereograms where you have to unfocus and cross your eyes a little and look through the image to see what’s really there. If you don’t know what a stereogram is, have a look here. They are lots of fun.
My local snakes taught me that sometimes you have to be patient and relax your expectations to see what has always been right in front of you. Put your phone in your pocket, soften your focus, pull back wide and take in the bigger picture. All the world’s beauty will show itself to you on it’s own time.
If you have any questions or comments, please leave them in the space below. I am always happy to hear from you.
If you enjoy the content and would like to contribute towards website maintenance and development, you can make a donation here. Thank you for reading TigerSalad.