I'd promised myself I would be good about this. I honestly, truly did. It's no problem, I said. I'll find free time somewhere in my week in Vancouver and Victoria to update the blog. I really will. I want to stay topical and engaged and blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah.
Well, what do you know: it's Monday, the beginning of the week after my trip, and it's been a full two weeks since I've posted. As it turned out, I didn't have all that much free time out West. I probably opened my computer a grand total of three times. I did, however, manage to scribble various things in my journal -- on the beach, on the ferry, at various stolen moments in a series of cafés. So I'm going to transcribe some of those scribblings here. I've altered them in some places to make sense to the blog-world, as opposed to the scribbled-and-messy-Amanda-journal-world. They are not nearly as coherent and lovely and smart as I was hoping this blog post to be -- but then, when does that ever happen?
Sunday, circa 10:30pm
It's raining in Vancouver -- surprise. Everywhere I look I see grey sky and fog. Behind the fog, the great blue hulk of mountains. Sarah (dear friend from my UVic days) picked me up at the airport and took me back to her place for brunch, and then later in the afternoon it was out to The Noodle Box (The Noodle Box! THE NOODLE BOX! Oh, joy of joys) for dinner, and after that out to a film.
I haven't had curry from The Noodle Box in over five years. And now I'm fed and full and getting ready to head to Victoria in the morning.
I forgot how different the air smells out here. Now it seems like the most impossible thing to forget.
Monday, circa 9:30am (on the ferry) and 11pm
The bell that pings ahead of announcements on the ferry took me right back to seven years ago, just like that. I'm sitting at a table next to a gentleman from Scotland -- at least, from the sounds of it he grew up in Scotland, though it sounds like he's been in Canada for a while. So now I feel like I could just as easily be taking the ferry across to Arran, and visiting The Motorcycle Blonde. Existing in 2012 and having your memory pull you into two different years at the same time is a strange feeling.
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And ... I spent Saturday on the beach, and in the West End of Vancouver, enjoying the sun. More to come in the next few days on the conference, and what I learned, what I heard, how it made me think. Today I'll just close off and say: the entire trip was lovely. Everything about it seemed to speak, somehow, to the journeys that we make as writers -- the people that we love, the memories that we gather, the lessons that we learn. Sometimes I forget that life in Victoria, life on the West Coast, taught me as much about writing as did those four years of school at UVic.
It's good to remember that, and think of the mist in the air as these days in Hamilton grow hot and long and humid ...
Blah blah blah.
Well, what do you know: it's Monday, the beginning of the week after my trip, and it's been a full two weeks since I've posted. As it turned out, I didn't have all that much free time out West. I probably opened my computer a grand total of three times. I did, however, manage to scribble various things in my journal -- on the beach, on the ferry, at various stolen moments in a series of cafés. So I'm going to transcribe some of those scribblings here. I've altered them in some places to make sense to the blog-world, as opposed to the scribbled-and-messy-Amanda-journal-world. They are not nearly as coherent and lovely and smart as I was hoping this blog post to be -- but then, when does that ever happen?
Sunday, circa 10:30pm
It's raining in Vancouver -- surprise. Everywhere I look I see grey sky and fog. Behind the fog, the great blue hulk of mountains. Sarah (dear friend from my UVic days) picked me up at the airport and took me back to her place for brunch, and then later in the afternoon it was out to The Noodle Box (The Noodle Box! THE NOODLE BOX! Oh, joy of joys) for dinner, and after that out to a film.
I forgot how different the air smells out here. Now it seems like the most impossible thing to forget.
Monday, circa 9:30am (on the ferry) and 11pm
The bell that pings ahead of announcements on the ferry took me right back to seven years ago, just like that. I'm sitting at a table next to a gentleman from Scotland -- at least, from the sounds of it he grew up in Scotland, though it sounds like he's been in Canada for a while. So now I feel like I could just as easily be taking the ferry across to Arran, and visiting The Motorcycle Blonde. Existing in 2012 and having your memory pull you into two different years at the same time is a strange feeling.
Victoria is damp and cool. Spent the day with one of my oldest friends, reminiscing about high school. High school was sixteen years ago. Sixteen years! I feel ... inadequate to that. I feel like I haven't done enough. I feel like I haven't been enough. But I suppose I'll feel that way when I'm eighty ...
Dinner tonight at The Mint. Seven years ago I celebrated my champagne birthday at this restaurant. I don't remember what I had then. Tonight my friend and I ate cheese and curry and aloo sandheko. We talked about writing and work and love. She's about to launch this magazine. You leave and grow and come back and everything is the same as it always was, only better, and tonight this makes me glad.
Tuesday, circa 10:30pm??
Breakfast at The Blue Fox. (Can it be true that they still don't have a webpage? Ha.) This morning I actually felt as though I could leave the restaurant and take the #14 right up to UVic and go to class. It was that close.
Lunch in Oak Bay with Christin, whom I hadn't seen in seven years. It's so fascinating to be able to come back and hear what everyone's been up to. People are publishing books. People are getting agents. People are writing, still.
The words keep coming, it seems. One way or another, in and around all of the heartbreak and the day-to-day life.
Wednesday, on the 3pm ferry
Walked through the old neighbourhood this morning. So built up, and they finally finished the swanky new condos on the corner of my old street. Stopped in front of my old apartment building and remembered. The strongest memory I have of that place is the day that I moved in, way back in the summer of 2004--the carpet had been freshly shampooed, and before I moved any furniture in I took off my shoes and stretched out on the floor and thought: mine.
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| Favourite video store, still going strong ... |
Thursday, late at night sometime
Breakfast in Gastown. Breakfast so beautiful I almost didn't want to eat it.
Got to hear all about the business that my friends are set to launch later this year. I am so inspired -- I know such creative, talented people. So many stories of friends making it work, somehow, in the midst of difficult times.
Meandered about for the better part of the day. Went to The Noodle Box again and then made my way to the TWUC conference, which started at 4pm. Met the lovely Ayelet Tsabari and got our badges. Don't we look all professional? (Well, Ayelet looks professional. And calm. I look like a big fat nerd, but what are you going to do ...)
The TWUC conference opened with a keynote address by Patricia Aldana. It was fantastic. Very political and heartfelt. She talked about Canada's National Reading Campaign, which I'm sad to say I hadn't heard about until today. But once again, I find myself inspired. I'd been hoping that coming to the TWUC would light that fire in my writing heart again -- it's a fire that keeps on going, yes, but every now and then it's nice to connect with other people who recognize that writing is important, that reading is important, that words on printed paper change lives.
Friday, again late at night
Great panels today. Lovely discussions about first-time authors, and eco-writing, and in-depth looks at how much technology is changing the pfor an award ublishing landscape. It's the kind of thing that we talk about all the time, I know, but so great to physically be there, listening to what other people are thinking and breathing and doing about the changes.
More on the conference after I get home. There's just so much to say.
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And ... I spent Saturday on the beach, and in the West End of Vancouver, enjoying the sun. More to come in the next few days on the conference, and what I learned, what I heard, how it made me think. Today I'll just close off and say: the entire trip was lovely. Everything about it seemed to speak, somehow, to the journeys that we make as writers -- the people that we love, the memories that we gather, the lessons that we learn. Sometimes I forget that life in Victoria, life on the West Coast, taught me as much about writing as did those four years of school at UVic.
It's good to remember that, and think of the mist in the air as these days in Hamilton grow hot and long and humid ...
You specifically said, "Let's take a picture of us looking like nerds with our conference badges." So: success?
ReplyDeleteI love the happiness in this post, the excitement about an event that caters to your passion.
ReplyDeleteMy favourite, though, was when you described your first memory of your apt, where you took off your shoes first thing, sat on the floor, and thought MINE.
I know that feeling.