|On Pandora St.|
Well you can, but the road back is overgrown and thorny, with many hidden potholes.
Yep. That is about as much wisdom per coffee ratio that I have today.
Which, of course, won’t stop me from spouting more un-wise random thoughts.
It has been about a week and a half since we have landed on this temperate coastal haven. As if by command, the weather has been spectacular (though if today is any indication, that is about to change) which means I have been able to spend most of my time walking around, exploring the beaches that swaddle the city in waves and rock and, if you are lucky, sand. Long evenings in beautiful backyard gardens drinking copious amounts of wine.
And family. Lots of family.
Now, for those of you who know me, you must know that socializing is not my forte. So coming home always causes some ambivalence. On the one hand, I am very happy to see my crazy but lovable people. On the other hand, I wish it didn’t have to be with everyone all at once.
This sustained visiting is hard for my constitution. I think I might be suffering from a solitude deficiency and will develop some sort of horrible physical ailment such as rickets (I don’t really know what rickets are but they don’t sound fun).
So. Week and a half. Non-stop visiting. Sun. Not a lot of writing.
But then, those expectations were a tad unrealistic anyway.
Observations of Victoria land:
- People drive a lot here. Though the city is imminently walkable and bike-able, people seem to prefer their automobiles. I find this very strange .
- Clerks in the stores are so friendly they are bordering on American. For instance, when I go to the grocery store, the clerks (different ones) have asked me how I am doing and if I have any plans for the weekend. Barring for the moment that I feel the question is extremely invasive (why would I tell you my plans for the weekend?) This kind of friendliness sets my teeth on edge. Not to mention the fact that different clerks are asking me the exact same questions, which makes me suspect that management is putting them up to it. So it is not real friendliness. It is fake friendliness.
- Deer. The deer are tripping me out. I noticed this the last visit too- you will be walking down a perfectly normal city street and on the other side will be a Doe with three babies. Or like the other night when we were walking home- there was this young buck sporting a magnificent rack (ha!Rack! That’s funny) just wandering around a busy intersection. Apparently the outskirts of Victoria have seen enormous construction the last few years and the deer no longer have a place to go. Another case of of the suburbs encroaching on natural habit, oozing out of the city like some large slime monster, engulfing everything in their wake.
- When you go back to the place you grew up in, the past is waiting around corners (and fir trees) to jump out and embarrass you. So far I have ran into about six people from my teenage past (not the best years of my life, needless to say). Two of them I knew who they were but couldn’t remember their names, which seems very rude when they were a fixture in my house for a few years. But what can you do when everybody was named Chelsea or Heather or Meghan? Come on people. Throw me a bone.
- Apparently I still have children, though they have become these elusive mythical creatures that have gone feral and now run with a pack of cousins. I hope to catch them and tame them again before we need to board the plane back to Montreal.
|Feral Kids on Roof of House|
That’s all I got today. Next post will be entitled: Lessons in Grace from unexpected places
And yes, they are sorely needed.