i travel with thumbs out, with a window seat on the greyhound, with a pair of facing benches on the train so that one can act as a foot rest, with a car from the decade of my birth and a credit card dedicated to the purchase of gasoline.
i love a good road trip, the kind where i have less than a day in most locations, so long as this is interrupted by 2 or 3 day long sojourns that make me feel as though i’ve lived in some towns forever by sheer contrast to the disruption of being on the move.
yes, i love to see the world pass from moving vehicle, but i also love to sit and pretend i am a local. i love small town libraries, thrift shops, cafés, public transit, and swimming holes. without these opportunities, i do not like the road tripping, do not like the pace of culture cramming. all of those “10 european cities in 10 days!” tours? never.
this is not how i was thinking about my trip to upcoming australia: it was not a road trip.
instead, i was thinking about it as a move: i am going to go to melbourne and live with my friends, get a thoughtless job in the service industry, and contemplate life in the big city as well as life back in canada.
that still might happen, but suddenly it might not. things aren’t working out very well for my friends, and it could mean that i won’t be living with them. not through any fault of theirs, i should make clear! they are lovely, and i’m hoping that their situations improve. however, in the meantime i’m looking at alternate plans, which to be frank i had not at all considered before now.
my headspace has been so desperately occupied lately by the drama at my office, and subletting my apartment, and getting rid of my junk, and spending time with all the people i’m going to miss while i’m away… that i’ve barely thought about what to do when i’m actually in melbourne. sure, i’ve mapped out the libraries closest to my friends’ house, and decided at which community radio station i want to volunteer, and checked out the queer event listings… but i’ve done nothing around the basics of shelter, transport, food. which is okay: i didn’t need to, and now i do, and it’s just a bit more excitement and adventure!
though i’d be lying if i didn’t also tell you that it’s more stress. but i can handle it.
the thing is, if i’m not going to live with my friends in melbourne, there’s very little reason for me to stay there. i’ll still fly into the city, and get a chance to see them for a bit, but then… why not go other places? mae callen suggested the whitsunday islands for some sailing adventures… why not? and tasmania sounds amazing too.
i can’t afford to travel much, but i can stretch my savings by joining WWOOF, and it looks like there’s plenty of opportunities all over the continent. i’d love to do that again, though i hadn’t planned on it… in the past, i’ve worked on farms in the yukon, in northwest france, in southern england, and on the scottish isle of eigg (population 73 person, at the time). some of the best experiences of my life have been through WWOOFing, and even the bad times have at least produced good stories.
maybe i could WWOOF at a farm or three, and use that to get my bearings while i find some paid work. ideally, i’ll find the sort of situation that has been offered to me at previous farms: half days of labour in exchange for room and partial board, leaving time for a part-time job. mayba barrista work, but maybe even with a sailmaker or a scuba instruction company or an upholstering shop or something else cool.
huh.
this post started all thoughtfulish and has now degenerated into rambling thoughts on the possibilities of my upcoming 4 months abroad. apologies: i’m all muddled. excited though… very excited.
Filed under: Animal Lover, Artist, Bike Geek, Critic, Cynic, Friend, Gardener, Homebody, Queer, Student, Traveler, Worker
…written slowly and intermittently throughout my workday…
bicycle
despite all the photos that i’ve posted of her, what you’ve never known about nigella (my lovely 1972 raleigh single speed with coaster brake) is that she was noisy as hell. in the past couple years that i’ve had her, i hadn’t once opened up her bottom bracket, nor adjusted the cranks, and it was showing: every push on the pedals was generating the most embarrassing squeal. finally i couldn’t take it anymore, and i spent yesterday’s shift at the bike shop taking apart and rebuilding the whole thing. no surprise: the grease had hardened into chunks, and the central cylinder was full of sparkly crystals that disintegrated into black powder when i rubbed them between my fingers. i would bet that this was the first time that anyone had cleaned her out… in 37 years!!!
fortunately, the cups and spindle were okay. i replaced the bearings with new ones, and packed it all in smooth new grease. one of the cotter pins, which are the special bolts that attached the cranks to the bottom bracket spindle on old bikes like these, had to be replaced because the threads were crushed, but luckily we had some that were used and in good condition. all the new cotter pins in stock were too small (in diameter) for the holes in my cranks.
after all the scrubbing, replacing, regreasing, adjusting, and rebuilding of the bottom bracket, i spent a good 40 minutes on my chain. the recycl!st@s standard procedure for cleaning a chain is to coat it with oil and then wipe it down with a rag, repeatedly, leaving it on the bike the whole time. it’s not nearly as satisfying as dipping the chain in gasoline, like i used to do as a kid, but much healthier for all concerned. i used an old tooth brush (with oil on the bristles) as well as the rag, because the dirt was caked-on between the links. it never got shiny, but it now runs like a charm. in fact, the entire bike feels new… she’s smooth and easy and soooooooooo quiet.
sometimes it’s worth having a crappy ride if only so that you can truly appreciate the way it feels when every thing’s been fixed.
also, this is an excellent example of why you’re better off spending $200 on an old bike plus a mechanic’s time, rather than dropping it all on a c@n@dian tire special. not only will you get a bike that actually has some character, but you’ll also get something that will last for 30+ years and still function perfectly! it’s all about quality, my friends: they just don’t make (most) bicycles like they used to.
i’m thinking of going to the seattle international bike expo, march 14-15, along with my friend and mechanic-mentor, tri. it’d be our one last bout of serious bike-geeking together, before i head off to oz and she moves to the mainland. it’s so sad, and yet still so necessary.
school
last week i went to the info night for the trades programs at the local community college. the talk itself wasn’t very thrilling, but i got pretty excited in the campus bookstore, when i saw that the electrical program text is the provincial electrical code. that’s the kinda book i’d buy anyway, just because it’s fascinating. it was a good reminder for me: no matter how much i may be challenged by having 18-year-old boys as classmates, the fact remains that i love the topic.
the electrical foundation program is self-paced and new people start/end every month. at the start of the month, the teachers guess how many students will graduate at the end of the month, and that many people off the waitlist as then offered positions. so, i’d only have 1 month’s notice of starting school. also, once you’ve been offered a spot, you can only defer once before being put back at the bottom of the wait list. basically, i need to apply now. the neat thing about the program being self-paced is that it can be done in less time than the advertised duration of 6 months, which costs less since tuition is by the week.
if i decide to do this, these are my two coping mechanisms for dealing with the cost/time investment and the fact that queer femmy girls in trades get flack: 1) i will be a hardcore student, study a lot, and get through the program as quickly as possible, and 2) i will attend classes in character, based loosely on diane rigg’s emma peel in the avengers (1965).
house
i sent out an email to all my friends last week, about subletting my apartment. in response, i’ve received one phone call and one email, and both are from complete strangers. the person on the phone had received an email about it, but didn’t know from whom. the person on the email referenced seeing my “ad”, which is odd, because i didn’t place an ad. this makes me feel a little uncomfortable, but i *do* need to rent the place out… so tomorrow i’m showing it to the guy who called. the person who emailed is currently in ontario, which is unfortunate because he is a serious cyclist and so currently my preferred subletter of the two. i am easily biased.
in other house-related news, my landlady had her house broken into on friday and her computer stolen. she lives next door, so this is rather unnerving. still, i don’t own anything worth stealing, or at least from the perspective these local grab-and-go types: i doubt they’d notice the artwork on my walls.
art
this past saturday night i went to dinner at a friend’s house. knowing that there’d be a couple kids there, i grabbed some bags of beads and brought them with me. by “some bags of beads”, i mean tiny glass seed beads in at least 20 colours, tons of random fancy glass ones of all sizes, plus more made of wood, and all sorts of string: nylon, elastic, wire, leather, cotton, hemp. honestly, i didn’t even know *what* was in there, because it was given to me by someone ages ago and i’d never gotten around to going through it. i’m glad i brought it to dinner: all of us dinner guests, kids included, made each other necklaces and bracelets and rings. there was lots left over, and i told them to keep it. people are always giving me random art supplies that i’ll never use, and i’m pleased when i find good homes for them instead of letting them languish on my shelves.
pop culture
veronica mars s01e20 is crazily homophobic: veronica blackmails this horrible guy by making him seem queer, which ruins his plans to join the navy, and not once in the entire episode did anyone mention the injustice of the military’s don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy! instead, there was a general attitude of acceptance with regards to homophobia: it was left unquestioned, even as it was the basis of the plot.
yes, once again, i am disappointed by mainstream teevee. go figure.
farm
my upstairs neighbours and i are going to ask our landlady if we can get chickens, when i come home from australia. a coop and small run could fit next to my patio, if we cleared away some low-lying branches from the trees. the limit in our municipality is four hens, which would be more than enough eggs (at an estimated rate of 2 eggs/3 days per bird). we’re also planning on going big and experimental with our worm composting exploits. currently, i have a “castaway” bin, and they have a homemade multi-tiered worm condo that doesn’t always work too well: we want to put together something larger and most efficient, probably outdoors on one of our decks. hopefully it’ll combine well with the chickens, to provide them with extra protein and get rid of the bird manure. i’m stoked at the possibilities.
job
a coworker and i stopped to chat as we crossed on a path near our office, and were interrupted by a racket: a hummingbird, possibly an anna’s hummingbird, was sitting on the branch above our heads and chirping very lustily. it’s somewhat easier to cope with the dismantling of our projects and the disregard for the past several years of our labour when the sun is shining as it is today. somewhat.
i have developed a recurring spasm in the muscle below my left eye and am told that this sort of twitch is due to stress. ’nuff said.
[photo: not my bike! a schwinn cruiser, seen on the street in nyc, march 2008]
Filed under: Gardener
i’m going to try to document my garden this year. mostly i’m doing this out of sense that i’ve repeated the same mistakes in various years, and i’d be less inclined to do that if i had a record of what i’ve done. also, i’d like to have a perspective of the “big picture”, instead of always just using my garden for therapy when needed and being rather neglectful the rest of the time.
[photo: windows at the museum of natural history, nyc - feb '08)
while on the telephone with my stepmom (and personal gardening guru) who lives in ontario, i harvested the first bulb of garlic from my garden. it was a great to share the experience: i gave her a play-by-play as i pulled it out of the ground and peeled back the dead leaves, describing the beautiful fresh scent that the bulb emitted.
is anybody else in my bioregion harvesting their garlic yet? my raised beds drain well, so i’m not worried about mold… should i let them mature for another couple weeks, or pull them all now? i’m a neophyte, so any advice would be appreciated!
i have my raised beds laid out with a soaker hose, that is connected by three regular garden hoses all the way around my yard to the faucet on the side of the house. while i’m away in the desert for the next week and a half, all my neighbour has to do is simply turn the faucet on and off once a day. thanks to my friend anna winnipeg, there’s even seeds ready to grow! i’m not exactly sure what she planted where, but look how perfectly she marked the rows with yarn… lovely.
this is what happened when i found my current home: i was housesitting down in cook street village, spending a lot of time at the beach with a dog or two, and trying to deal with feeling depressed and lonely. it was may and i was looking for somewhere to live for june first, which was proving harder than i’d thought it would be, given that it was the annual spring exodus of students. my main trouble was the incompatability between my budget and my desires to live alone, to have space for gardening, to have a bathtub (instead of just a shower), and to have a full kitchen (instead of a bar fridge, a microwave, a hotplate).
i was early for my scheduled appointment to view this apartment, and i killed time by drinking a coffee at the san remo cafe and deli on the corner. i sat in a seat by the window, and looked at the neighbourhood: a lot had changed since i first moved to victoria, when i lived just up the street. there were new stores, and they looked busy. second-hand furniture, smoking paraphenelia, a money mart, a rubber stamp craft store. the carribean bakery was still there, and now a halal butcher shop too. best of all, the empty furniture store that used to anchor the shopping strip was being replaced by a fairways market. not only would there be groceries close by, but there would always be cheap cilantro (the fairways chain has excellent asian vegetables too).
i was still early, so i went for a walk. up quadra, past the house with the apartment for rent. was dismayed by its dingy appearance, but decided it might not matter. turned right on summit, up the hill to the park. was only just at the top and about to climb the path to the reservoir when i checked the time again. i had only a couple minutes to get back to the house, and i ran. there were two of us looking at the place, and the other girl didn’t even take an application. i did, and said i’d think about it for a couple days.
that night i realized i didn’t have my slingshot, my dayplanner. which had just about everything important in my life written on its pages. slept badly, went to art class the next morning, left early and took the bus to quadra street. retraced my steps: the barristas at san remo hadn’t seen it, but at least were very sympathetic. up quadra, past the house, eyes scanning the sidewalk. turned at summit, grew tired in the hot sun. felt frustrated. was about to turn around, find somewhere to curl up and cry, when… yeah. there it was, sitting on a planter at the side of the road: my dayplanner.
you know when you’re feeling so low that it kinda just becomes normal? it’s a crappy state to be in, except for one thing: sometimes, it gets to the point where something that wouldn’t normally make you think twice has enough power to jolt you to your very core.
i found my dayplanner, and decided that i’d found my new home as well.
i called the rental person and we met the next day. she didn’t even want to call my references. which was good, because one was a friend faking it for me, and the other was my ex-landlord whom i’d told i’d moved to california.
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now. the question is, how do i know when it’s time to move on? i have a great opportunity for a fantastic new home, and i don’t know if i want to take it. and… i hate indecision.
(photo-> march harvest from my garden: bundles of mint hung to dry in my kitchen)
i’m sick, suffering from a cold for the first time since august. it’s pretty crappy, but not as bad as it could be. my romantic associate came down with it first, and didn’t go to work yesterday. my shift at the cafe wasn’t until the afternoon, so the two of us spent the morning in bed together, snuggling and watching the latest episode of a teevee show that shall remain nameless. okay, it was the l-word. i know it’s trash, but i’m sick, remember? sometimes trash is comforting.
for the past couple months, i’ve been saying i’m going to leave victoria. there’s a million reasons to go, including my love of fresh starts and my lack of patience for social drama. i have a house-sit for the last week of april and all of may, so i thought i’d give up my apartment then and leave after graduation in june.
but recently, i’ve been feeling differently. at the pre-mmm ride potluck on friday, my home was full of friends and plans were being made. plans for a curling team, for a dinner with someone i’ve missed hanging out with, for a trip to vancouver this week : things to look forward to. i left the ride itself barely 1/2 hour after it started, happy to return to my empty apartment and have a bath in solitude.
today, my boss at the research institute (where i maintain and produce websites and other propaganda) told me that she is going to find the money to hire me full-time come june. the job would probably be a contract that lasts until our big conference in october, which is just long enough to be worth my while, financially-speaking. plus, it would mean another summer in victoria: bike rides to thetis lake, sunlight until 9 pm, fresh vegetables from my garden.
the garlic that i planted last fall has produced shoots these few past weeks, green spikes that rise a couple inches from the soil. if i stayed until the end of august, i’d get to harvest them. i’ve never been able to do that before, have always left town or lost my planting space before they were ready. it’s a nice idea, to eat garlic i grew myself.
(photo: snow-covered labyrinth @ naramata centre, december 2006)
i just discovered internet radio.
i know, i know… it’s been around for ages, what’s wrong with me? but for real: i never thought to check the “raidio tuner” thingy on itunes until i was procrastinating on a term paper this evening. i now have a new lease on life.
i’m already a bit of a fiend for cbc and npr, but i’m pretty set in my ways with those stations: i listen to my favourite shows, and that’s about it. this is different: hundreds of stations, just waiting for my careful ear! i am giddy, foreseeing a summer of new music beyond what i ever thought possible, loneliness banished by the recurring need to do a lyrics search in order to find out a band’s name… oh, technology! what a strange friend.
on another note, my garden has enjoyed these days of sunshine. i planted seeds three weeks ago, before i had any inkling that i’d be moving again (they’re in big pots, luckily). barely poking through the surface of the soil, little green sprouts: peas, carrots, spinach. yay!
