hey! me again.

Dear World,
Long time no speak, eh? Guess we both got a bit busy.
But I'm here now, with a little something. A little blend of boredom, homesickness, humour and itchy fingers. So enjoy, and say hi to the family for me.
Love,
S

Not A Bang. Not A Whimper. Just Cliche.

It feels like the apocalypse, but she knows better. It's the train that gives it away: civilization. The dead and the undead don't travel. Still, it is desolate here, at the edge of everything. She can't silence the voice in her brain that says THERE IS BEAUTY HERE, but she can ignore it. In her heart today there is room for the lonely and the sad. She has no time for the beautiful.
So this is how the world really ends, not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with a resounding cliché. Really? she thinks. A half-empty motel on the outskirts of town, its entrance sign hanging by a hinge, its street ending in a highway and a stretching marsh. Only Norman Bates is missing, and she hasn't looked above the office yet.
And when the train passes it sounds close, too close. She can't see its passage in the dark, but she can picture it ripping through the wall in a terrible, fatal parody of Strawberry Subway Jam.
And when the heating clinks on it sounds like something is tapping from inside the vent, seeking escape. Who needs to sleep anyway.
And when she looks out the window it starts to rain. Cold, heavy, like now the sky sees the irony in pathetic fallacy.
There's an animal hospital, across the street. She watches: cars come alone, never lingering long, suggesting that there is something back-alley about this place. She wonders what kind of animals these people are bringing. Suspecting the mood of the universe, she guesses rag and bone dogs, like the ones that roam the dust in Pompeii. Quiet and sad and waiting. And a cat, at least one, that screams with a voice far too close to human when it gets inside.
See? This is why the universe shouldn't encourage storytellers with reality that begs to be fictitious.
We pay too much attention.

Some more...

photos!

Here are the photos I promised -- there will be more, but here's some to get the ball rolling. :)

Enjoy!

(It's the ice road for a bit, which I walked and then drove across, and there's the ice castle on the ice road and the house near it that looks like the Burrow, and the view from the balcony 14 floors up, and a few street shots and views of the lake).

NTS!

I'm sure most of you know this already, but I can't get enough of saying it, so...

Know how I applied to the NTS? Well, they've called me for an interview. Off I go in late May to Montreal! :D

So exciting!

Cool.
Also, here I am in Yellowknife...also cool. Cold, really. But better than I'd thought. Love the people I'm with...love the countryside (if not the city itself, just architecturally-wise -- I'm sure the people in the city are awesome)...yup. All good.

So.
NTS.
Finger are crossed. :)

LOVE.

giving JB a run for his money

So...this isn't quite tomorrow...but hey. When is tomorrow, anyway?
(Philosophy, anyone?)

So, Ottawa was awesome. Total quality sister time..plus a trip to the National Gallery and the War Museum, and library time (which turned into play research time, which was awesome), and plenty of coffee time. (Ha).
It was lovely, even if it made me miss them more afterwards. :)

And then it was to KW, which was also amazing. I haven't seen these girls in forever, so just spending time reading with them or watching tv or something was lovely. Also got out to a club or two, and saw someone from grade school (time warp much? :)), and bought some jeans, and saw the old house. Looks pretty much the same.... Time warp! AND got dinner with me godmum, which was really nice since it's been YEARS. I love a good catch-up. :)
Also, if you haven't seen "How to train your dragon" yet you should. It's really cute.

And now I'm in TO, with the godfather (mine, not that one)...and off to see AJ soon.

It's such a whirlwind trip, with so many familiar faces... like my mum said, it's like I'm touring not only my friends and fam, but my life. Dang -- I should be filming this, and then I'd have my very own biopic.
"When's the last time you heard a funky diabetic -- never say never: The BS Story."

I think I've got something here.

Anyway...I think I'm totally gonna need some down time after this trip to digest everything that's happening and everyone I'm seeing...but I am REALLY glad I'm doing this. So many friends! (And totally enough time to see 'em). :D

So...until next time, keep fit and have fun.

across Canada this time

I'm baaack.
Ha.

I thought, since I have yet to find a job to hold me in one spot, I could spend the time visiting friends and family.
And I thought, since I have this blog sitting here obligingly already on the Internet, I could put it to use and entertain myself and others with a few travel-related posts. And photos.

And so.

Just spent the last few days in Halifax. It was a little odd to be back there, after such a long time away -- I mean, I feel like so much time has passed and I've changed a lot, and yet King's is still just five buildings surrounding a quad, and the Dal Theatre offices are still on the fifth floor of the Dal Arts Centre.
Weird...but ultimately awesome.
I love meeting people I haven't seen for so long, and getting those "I haven't seen you in ages!" hugs. :)
Also when people don't expect you to be there, but you are, and they do double-takes before going in for the hug. Makes me feel loved. :)

So, Halifax was lovely. Beautiful weather, for the most part, and theatre, and familiar faces and coffee shops. LOVE.

And then I hopped on a plane and voila, Ottawa. To visit the Parliament buildings...maybe...and the museums...probably...and the sisters. OF COURSE. :)

And then to Kitchener, and Toronto, and Yellowknife...but all in good time, grasshopper. Baby steps.

And, on that note, I'm off. I'll tell you about today tomorrow. :)

LOVE.

Awesome.

We held a storytelling evening a few nights before the big departure -- decorated the sitting room with scarves, lit candles and shared stories. Some were told from memory (like a Native American myth of the sun and moon, and an Advent story of a shepherd boy and a flute, and a Japanese tale of a dream that frankly came out of nowhere -- the storyteller said he hadn't actually meant to tell that story at all. Some stories, I suppose, will not be ignored), some from print (like some Shel Silverstein, or an Irish legend), some from imagination (like a character sketch involving a cow, a crow and the word 'grand', and a loving story of my time there told by another...and a story of my time there told by myself). I have never had an evening like it before, but I want to have another (and I want Clai to have another, which I think they will). It was, in every sense of the word, Awesome.

Because I can't tell my story any better than I did for that evening and for that group of people and that landscape, I will re-tell it for you.


Once upon a lifetime of stories, somewhere between chapters 1 and 23, the sky waits. It is inevitable and enormous, and ignored by most. ("Heads down! The ground is more interesting, we promise.") And under the sky there is a girl, somewhere between chapters 1 and 23. She likes to believe the world isn't what it makes itself out to be -- and she can prove it. Ever seen a sunrise? She seeks out the poetry in reality, writes things like
it's crazy, eh? how a fickle a thing this is.
reality.
malleable fantasy named truth,
or reverse that.
same difference.
pallindromic, this world of ours.
because it is. Is there even a difference between her and the Sidh? So, somewhat inevitably, she ends up in a country that introduces itself through its imagination. Where the line between this world and the others, the Storyline, is thin (where it exists at all).
HI. I THINK WE'VE MET BEFORE. I'M IRELAND, AND THESE ARE MY FAERIES.
Here, with caed mille failte on the wind, the girl finds everyone. Into this brave new life surrounded by other people like a hug, she grins back.

And time passes.

The girl looks up and out, and while she revels in the intersection of a thousand new stories and their Tellers, the sky begins to tell its own to her. In a sunrise-coloured mist twining through rolling hills and nestling over the still lake; in a thousand branches holding the weight of a thousand dewdrops of frost in cut-glass silhouettes; in roiling clouds mounting themselves to form faery clouds against the real (or real against the faery). The sky-stories drop into her heart and they are big, and in the spaces they expand she recognizes everyone, the entire cast of characters from this year of stories, and she finds she can't quite tell a story this big.
She tries, though, with a poem.

We stand on the edge and think
Whoops. This story is deep.
(We keep telling it, though)
'Cause it's already been said:
there's something communal in being human.
Collective unconscious.
The reflexive seeking of shelter from rain.
The relating of a day as it dusks,
even just with a passing in the kitchen and a "good. yours?"
The force of rhythm, drawing
dance, poetry, song, drum, speech, breath.

You know this, though.
You recognize the boat we're all in.
You've got being communally human down.
The enormous inevitable sky has nothing
on the space you create for each other
(although this girl loves it, too,
as well as you).

So you know.
But I know this:
stories are communal things, too.
Part of a massive pass-it-on that all humanity is in on.
So I relinquish my hold on this story,
pass it off with a note attached
(This was written looking up. Please mention the sky)
and try to stop trying to learn how to say Thank You better,
and just say it.

Merci.
Go raibh mille maith agat.

9 hours until i leave? how did this happen?

This is just a little post for an update: leaving for the airport in five and a half hours to head for home. Which involves an entire day of airports and airplanes. So not feeling so good now...sad, and kind of sick (like after drinking too much coffee) which i think is emotion-based, and already exhausted from a trip that hasn't happened yet.

Still, i wouldn't give up any bit of this experience for anything.

(In that sense, bring on the tears, cause at least it means i'm connected here).

(There are stories about various leaving parties and such, but they'll have to wait until i'm home and wondering what to do when i'm not surrounded by people all the time. :)

so, until then, please send all the spare well-wishes-for-flying thoughts you may have my way....and i'll see you on the other side of the Atlantic.

LOVE.

a story

(This is a story I was asked to write and fit into one page, by P. Now I'm to shorten it by half. It's fun -- reminds me of the good times of wine and cheese and writing parties with the playwriting class. :))

LOVE.

The Queen And The Soldier (or, A Problem We Never Have In Ireland)
The queen sat on the largest throne in the longest room under the tallest tower of her castle, and waited. Every day she arose, ate, walked her gardens which raged forth under the sun, and sat on her throne. Every day, the sole person over whom she ruled entered the throne room, knelt, and reported on the state of the queendom. Rarely did things happen outside the throne room -- and, if they did, they were addressed by the soldier on his rounds. Nothing reached this queen who had no beginning, but simply was. Every day the queen rose, ate, walked and waited while the soldier patrolled and reported and the stones of the castle grew warm under the sun. Every day, until one day something changed. "Queen," said the soldier, "the horizons grow dark." She nodded and said nothing. The day ended. The next morning, the soldier appeared early to the throne room. He was flushed, windswept. "Queen," said he, "the horizons grow darker." She smiled and said nothing. The day ended. The next morning the soldier appeared, breathless, as the queen walked the hall to the throne room. "Queen," said he, "they grow still darker. Clouds are amassing." She put a hand on his shoulder, and said nothing. The day ended -- the next morning, the soldier appeared before she finished her walk in the garden, for he had not ridden out this day. He had not needed to, but had watched the sky through the windows as he ran to her. He stood before her on the garden path and said, "Queen, the dark has reached our doorstep. The storm is upon us." He fell to his knees as the sun faded behind a roiling cloud. "Why do you say nothing," he cried, "when it is only the two of us against this storm and I am afraid?" The queen smiled, softly kissed the top of his head, and said,
"Are you not tired of the sun?"

updates

- on Halloween, we dressed as superheroes. I say we...but in Clai it was largely me. I mean, others had pieces of costume, but I was fully masked and caped and underwear-over-tights-ed. The costumes grew as the day progressed, though, and in the evening we went on a walk in Woodpark and I shared the story R and I wrote and we went back to roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories. Mm, Halloween. :)
- a few of us are off to see HP7 part 1 tomorrow. YAY!
- I made a cake, all by my lonesome, last weekend as part of the Bible evening we had (10 minutes of silence, then a specially-prepared meal together, then a sharing of the bible reading from the week and a discussion of it. It was lovely to share a spiritual space with all these people that I've shared so many other spaces with. :)) Also, I put a smiley face on the cake and people liked it. The cake, and the face. :)

Yup. That's about it for now...(except maybe a clarification. The previous post is telling of my visit to Dublin earlier this week, to do research for a play. It was awesome -- to take the time for the play, and for myself (went to some other theatre on the first night. Bad show, but good to be back in a theatre). In the hostel, my bed had no bedding on it so I was transferred to another room which I had all to myself. As we walked there, I joked with the hostel guy showing me the room that I could do anything I wanted (because I had it to myself)! There was a pause...and then he said, "Yeah...but don't." Ha. Whoops. It was a joke... :)

Ok.
Hope all is well with everyone.

LOVE.

like the Beast's

This library is like the Beast's (but bigger, and older, and real), and I feel like Belle when I ascend the stairs and she opens her eyes. History has a weight to itself here -- you can smell it on the air, feel it in the space around you. I head to the guard, show my pass and am pointed to a door at the end of the Long Room. It's marked "For Manuscripts Only" and waits behind one of the ropes they use to herd people into lines at the cinema. I unhook it, rehook it behind myself and open the door. Up an old staircase and into a tiny lift, abandoned in a corner filled with unsorted manuscripts and cleaning supplies. And then I stand before the door to the Manuscripts office. I take a moment to grin before opening it. I am informed of how to order material, and left in respectful peace as I search out the prison diary. I read Alice Sebold as I wait for the material to arrive, feeling like I should respect this place with a book as old as it is, but too interested in this story to put it down. I glance out the window now and then, watching the Dublin rooftops, reminded forcibly of the Citadel library and the time spent researching there. And then it's here, this diary that Cecilia Saunders wrote in Kilmainham jail in 1923. I am told to touch it as little as possible, and I revel in laying the weighted bookmarks on the pages to hold them as I read. Her voice is more modern than Maud's, and I feel a little warm glow as I read the addendums in the margins, as I recognize that she, too, adds sentence fragments after the fact and leads the reader to them with hastily drawn and circled stars. I read, and take notes, and feel the familiar restlessness that sets in after hours spent in research (which I push aside to finish the diary, and skim the letters her incarcerated husband wrote her about his hunger strike. I cannot focus on these, though, because his writing is too small and scrawled and I am impatient). And then I am exiting the way I came, down the lift and staircase and past the same guard. We joke about how I must feel smarter, after the hours spent researching, and how I am off to get some food. Which I am, bidding goodbye to the books and their history in this library that is older than my own country.
Off to a muffin and macchiato go I.
And then here is the National Library, where I have already obtained a reader's ticket and now happily ascend the staircase to find microfilmed copies of an early 20th century newspaper. I read a play Maud wrote, recognize names and articles as I scroll past them. Place my hand briefly against the pages of an original volume published in 1900 (ignoring my mind that says your oils will affect these pages in favour of my body that says feel this).
And then it is time to go home, to climb onto the bus and settle in, laptop and notebook a little fuller and spirit a little wider after the brush with history and its stories.

LOVE.

one more thing...

Hey. Me again.
Just found these pictures on the camera, and had to show them to you to prove just how enormous the Irish sky really is.
This is the same sunset seen from Clai House in two different directions.
Impossible? No.
Beautiful|?

I think yes.

LOVE.

a day trip, a night in a hostel and rock art

Hi!
So I've got some more pictures for you -- from Ireland, this time. Over the weekend (Sun-Mon) we went to the Aran Islands, the Burren, Doolin (and its cave) and scenic drives along the way. (We being 12 of us, coworkers, residents and children of coworkers. It was a lovely mix).
The plan was supposed to be: get to Doolin, get the ferry across on Sunday, stay the night in an Aran Island hostel and head back on Monday. And the cool thing is I planned all this and booked the ferry and booked the hostel, because sometimes I can be an adult. :) If I must. :)
But...the weather on Monday was forecast to be stormy and terrible, so the ferries made Sunday their last day. So, instead of being stuck on the island or being shipped back to Connemara instead (totally NOT where the car was), we decided on the day-trip-and-stay-in-a-Doolin-hostel plan instead.
It was awesome. The island (Inis Oirr, "East Island", the littlest one) is beautiful. There are stone walls snaking all over the island -- and not like the tiny stone walls you find elsewhere in Ireland, like the Burren. These are serious, shoulder-height walls. And a lot of the stones are on their heads...which begs the question how is the wall staying up?...but it does. Stone magic, I suppose.
We didn't get to see all of the island, since we opted out of the driving tour (which was good -- I think you get more out of walking around a place like this anyway). We made it near the lighthouse, and to the castle ruins, and to a cafe for lunch. And to the beach, although I didn't bring a towel (or anything resembling a towel), so there was no swimming. And we were hurrying to the ferry back to the mainland...so maybe a swim would've been a mistake. Unless I was to swim all the way back to Doolin. Unlikely.
Also, then we stayed on the boat and got a free tour of the Cliffs of Moher from the water (not the usual view), as a sorry-for-the-inconvenience-of-Monday's-storms. It was cool to see the people on the top of the cliffs, because I've been up there three times already. That's right -- I haven't yet been to the North, but I've been to the Cliffs four times. Is ok, though. They're really pretty. :)
And then we found a hostel in Doolin for the night, and we played some card games and watched some TV...and had a lovely communal supper (spaghetti, cooked in a team effort by yours truly and two other coworkers) which felt more to me than it does here sometimes, maybe because I've never been to a hostel with that many people...and it was interesting to experience our normal eating routine (minus the blessing) somewhere else.
And some of us tried to go to the pub for a music session that night, but it was PACKED (which, as well you know, I hate), and we only found seats in the part where you couldn't hear the music. We stayed for a drink...and then went back and watched more TV with some others. :)
And then we had a relaxed day yesterday, slowly heading back and stopping by various points of interest -- see above.
The Doolin Cave is this underground cavern formed by water dripping through the limestone rock above, and a passing stream, and there's this huge stalactite in the middle of it. I was torn during the tour -- partly interested, cause the stalactite looks like cloth from the way the water falls through it and because I haven't been into a lot of caves. And partly creeped out, because the stalactite was just a little too big (weird, but true) and because I didn't like the story of how the two men who found the cave crawled through a tiny tunnel for an hour and if they had come to a dead end would have had to crawl out backwards. I've decided I never want to explore caves -- I like wind.
Which, in fact, we had plenty of when we went to see the Burren (see previous post). We explored a different part of it, with very little vegetation and huge expanses of rock open to the wind and facing the ocean. It was starkly beautiful. And all along the rock there were little piles and formations of stones -- rock art. Like, actually, people passing by stopped to make little standing stones, or a tiny dolman (sacred spots from the Druids). So, of course I made an inukshuk pointing across the Atlantic (pointing home) -- and to do so, I took some rocks from what may have been other pieces of art, which felt less like ruining someone's work and more like continuing the cycle of impermanent (but beautiful) art that share the stones on that cliff facing the sea.
The Burren is most definitely on my Top 5 places in Ireland (and maybe the world).
And then off we went home, stopping for food and to pick up a resident who'd gone home for the weekend.
And no one messed too badly during the trip (I think it was enough just to be out of the house and routine and hanging out with new people -- the new coworker couple from England and their family came.) Yay meeting new people! :)

And that's that, for now.
Enjoy the photos, and here's hoping your week has been filled with moments of rock art. :)

LOVE.

the Burren


the Burren


my Inukshuk and I


sunset in Doolin


the base of the Cliffs of Moher


an Inis Oirr road


Inis Oirr walls -- see? Tall and everywhere.


Inis Oirr's 1960 shipwreck (all saved), which is pictured in the credits to Father Ted. :)


Inis Oirr from the ferry

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

BAM -- another post.

Wanted to make up for the last one, which was needed but not very exciting for the reading public. So, here's one for you.

We went to the Cliffs of Moher today, but first detoured a bit into the Burren (the limestone plateau area, where we went to visit those three church ruins from a previous post). We were picking up cheese from a friend of a friend -- which is amazing goat's cheese, by the by. Anyway, I fell in love. Such peace came from the place, and the people (the calm rhythm of their lives -- you have to wait a bit while the cheese does its thing as you make it, so there are enforced break times...and I believe you have to track down the goats (which are let roam in the limestone and grass fields, wandering as they wont) to milk them, hence enforced break and exercise). And it's so quiet...and the people there (the cheese-maker and her family) were friendly and at ease with each other and us...and the house (built from Burren rock and the ruins of an older house) is welcoming...and the horizons, when you get to a bit where you can walk without watching your step, are gorgeous. There's something about the starkness of rocky fields and fewer trees that is absolutely beautiful.

So there. I've figured out what I'm going to be when I grow up -- a cheese-maker in the Burren.

:D

LOVE.

a sad, sad little post

Ok, this one's a venting blog (for me). Just a warning...

Anyway, had a good evening tonight at another play-reading (again, Shakespeare, cause everyone loves the bastard. I say what about the hundreds of other playwrights of the time?).


Walked home with my shadow being cast by the moon and my face up to catch all the stars above me. Meaning, it was a beautiful night.

And then I come home, and am instantly enraged with everything and everyone. Not the least of all was one coworker, who said we'd make soap together, just heading off to the car with an armful of soap-making supplies and a fresh batch cooling in the kitchen. Fine, I understand it was his thing to start with and I may not have shown overwhelming enthusiasm every time we spoke about it. And fine, I get that earlier in the day he'd said, laughing, 'well, let's just say i'm going to make it' (whether I'm there or not). Still, I thought it was one of those bonding moments people have, sharing in the creation of something new. Also, we'd been planning it/talking about it for literally months, and boom. I'm not there on the day he wants to make it so whoops, my loss.

And I don't really care that it's stupid and self-indulgent to be whinging about not making soap (which, clearly, I can do at another time). Like someone in a movie once said, 'It's the principle of the thing'.

Fuck.



Anyway, I hope this post doesn't put a damper on anyone's day. I think I just need to weep for a bit, and maybe hug the plastic bag full of torn fabric that was, at one time, Pumple bear.

How sad am I? :)

Also, I love and miss you all, and here's hoping your day was like my beautiful night (minus the rage).

LOVE,
me

oh, little bird. it's just your body telling you to slow down.

Hi all.
So, I meant to make this post really small (I just have an amusing story...amusing to me, at least)...but now that I'm here, I suppose I'll fill in the gap between Sept 24 and Oct 11.

We're expecting some new faces around here -- the Spanish Family (Camphillers from another community who've moved in with us and are planning to stick around for the foreseeable future) and another new coworker, coming on Wed for 8 months. It's good, now I won't stew about the future of our community so much. :)
This is also kind of sad news, because now I suspect I'll feel even more like I'm already halfway home. I've decided I hate this time, this in-between bit where I'm clearly not at home, but I'm not fully here anymore either. Stupid thinking about the future (even though it's exciting). Grr.
And also it's sad news because it means there's room for another coworker because the student who was here for a couple months doing her work placement has gone home to Germany. Which is sad. She's lovely.

Still painting (thought I'd gotten out of that after that disasterous two-week job a summer or two ago? Thought wrong :)). Doing the stairs yellow. It's bright and lovely.

One resident had a whole bunch of dentist appointments recently and ended up with some false teeth...and now there's a whole rigmarole of how to clean them. Which is all well and good, until it ends up being me cleaning them for her. I don't like my own teeth well enough to take care of them, let alone someone else's. So I had another little self-growth moment and spoke up, saying that I'd really rather not take this care on...and that's ok with the house. It's being taken care of by someone else. Yay!

Trying to get serious with MG -- went through the stack of books I have here on her, and am going through Internet sources now...and thinking about finding my way to Dublin again so I can go to the National Library/Trinity and do some hardcore, hopefully primary source research. Hm...should be doable.

Also, went to a music session in a local pub the other weekend and was just thinking, "This music would be lovely to tap to" to when a woman got up and started doing some hardshoe Irish. It was awesome...and then my fellow coworker agreed to drive home to get my shoes. So I (somewhat) spontaneously participated in a ceili (which I think means music session as well as dance) in a small fishing village in rural Ireland. Checkmark for another lived stereotype. :)
And the best part is that I went up to the other dancer after and we started talking, and she suggested we meet up for a few hours sometime and exchange dance forms -- I teach her tap, she teaches me Irish. Done and done. How exciting is that?! (Now we just have to find a time that works... :))

And yeah. The story that started this blog impulse is just a little one, that may in fact only be amusing to me...but still. Here you go.
We have a bunch of little metal cockerels on our kitchen table (from Portugal) -- there's a big one, and a smaller one and two tiny ones. They're funny enough on their own, because they appeared one by one over a few days. I kept half-thinking, "How are these tiny metal chickens reproducing?". Anyway, today they had been balancing on each other practicing their circus act when I suppose someone knocked them...because when cleaning the table I stumbled upon one of the littlest ones lying on its side with a small puddle of milk spreading out from its beak. Poor little bird -- must have had a stomach bug, and tried to do one too many circus tricks that didn't agree with it.

HA. I still think it's hilarious. :D

And on that note...
hoping all is well with all of you...
I sign off.

LOVE,
me

some stories of the big Switzerland ship out

In Bern, at night. You can fill your water bottle up at the fountain. How cool is that?


Switzerland (the Alps -- closest I've been to snow-topped mountains yet!)


Alps again, on the way up to sister's farm


Bern


Bern


Montreal-la-Cluse


Montreal-la-Cluse


Vichy. Because it reminded me of a certain someone. :)


Biozat. Une vielle eglise (500 ans, presque). For another certain someone (ff, this one's for you)


a ruined chateau, in France. Rochelles, I think.


a village in France


la meme village (and M)


a gorge in France -- of the river Sioule (I think). A bit bigger than Elora.


la gorge, encore.


kind of like the spa (with extra-healthy local waters, for drinking). It's actually a well-known form of relaxation, but damned if I remember the name. Napoleon 3 was into it, anyway. Also, M's parents. :)


Vichy. (Actually known as a little Paris :))


the house in Biozat.


house in Biozat.


the boulangerie in Gannat where we went to pick up some cakes for tea.


the restaurant where we went after to eat the cakes and have some good coffee (it's an M-family routine)


Gannat.


Schopfheim.


a church, passed on the autobahn in Germany.

After the photos, I'm going to add some stories...so don't blame me if this post turns out to be over 23 thousand words. :) And, as per usual, I am going to summarize the trip a bit in almost-point form, because otherwise my fingers might fall off. :)

- got into Dublin around 730, which meant I had a leisurely time finding a hostel (which was comfortable and cheap and included breakfast and a shuttle to the airport) and a frustrating time arriving at the Abbey Theatre only AFTER Sean O'Casey's The Plough and the Stars had started. Gr. It would've been so very Irish. But still, I had a nice meal to myself and then back to the hostel and the lovely surprise that was a showing of Dirty Dancing. Mm -- I love that film. :)

- met a variety of interesting and friendly people while hitch-hiking ("faire du stop", en francais) with M (in Germany and France and Switzerland): travelling furniture saleswomen; French truckie with a daughter named Sarah and a femme who travelled to Brazil (and who was really interesting in the Northern Canadian ice bridges); lovely French woman who offered us a place to sleep (in her brother's bedroom, who had been to Canada and had a flag hanging in the room) and breakfast :D; German man who drove us all the way from Switzerland to Frankfurt on Wed after hearing that it was my birthday :)

- visited some beautiful places: Bern (Swiss capital) and the very hilly countryside around it, filled with cows (many of whom had horns, and all of whom had huge metal bells. You could definitely tell when they were grazing. Or scratching. Or walking. :)); Schopfheim (I think I spelled that right...), little picturesque village in SW Germany; Montreal-la-Cluse, au bord d'un lac in France (where we stayed with the lovely woman -- actually, her village was a little out from Montreal. I think it was called Perrignat...but I'm not sure); Biozat (tiny place in France where M's parents have a house -- near Gannat, which has really good coffee and croissants); Frankfurt (short stay there, but it was nice to be back in a city...and we had dinner in a really quiet, really pretty spot. Yay!)

- spoke French, pour la plupart, when in France. Which was lovely, because it DID get easier, and people actually understood me (for the most part...), and I understood them. :D And it was funny to see France French vary from Quebec French -- no "je veux changer mon poisson" there, or "bon matin", or lovely Quebec accent (it's "eh bien" there, not "eh ben" :))
Didn't really try to speak German (although I can say Danke, Guten morgen/abent/nacht, and now Ganz genau, which means "exactly").

- got to name a calf who was born on M's sister's farm outside Bern the day before my birthday. Had to start with a G, so instead of Sarah or BS, I named her Godiva. :D

- went on a long walk through the Swiss countryside with M, her sister and her sister's family (got to carry the littlest one in a sling -- it was awesome. :))

- saw a sign in a gas station at Lyon (France) that read "Espace jeux enfants", and underneath "Space plays child".
Hee.

And I'm really really glad I went and had such a lovely time...but I'm also glad to be back (to make the most of my remaining three months until I head home -- which is also Yay!).

So.
Love and miss you vachement (it means something like "extremely", and yes, it translates as "cow-ly" :)).

Until next time, I hope all is well and the weather's been as good for you guys as it has been for me on this trip (one time it rained, and otherwise it was warm and sunny). (So warm we went swimming in the Bern river, the Aard, which was as cold as the ocean and just as awesome).

Mmm.

LOVE,
me

PS: We had a big multi-birthday dinner tonight for Eiji, Una and myself...and out of it I got a lovely piece of cake, some cream for my coffee tomorrow :), corn on the cob, salmon, English muffins, and various accoutrements like a calligraphy pen (and new notebooks). I can feel the muse stirring... :D
LOVE.

PPS: Found some graffiti in the travelling (for such a strict country, Switzerland has a surprising amount of graffiti in its cities) -- "Uncool Kid", "BS" and "bete au vent" on a large French gorge's rock wall. That one's my favourite.
LOVE.

some stories before the big Switzerland ship-out

Hi.
It's me.
You might remember me from such things as the last, nigh-on month-old post. One could say that such sporadic postings keep things on their toes. Or they could say What the hell, S?
Either way. :)

So...everyone's back now. No more Clai to myself, or only having to cook for five people instead of twelve. But hey. Is the way the world goes. :) (Plus, my holidays are still to come -- leaving on Monday for a night in Dublin and then the flight to Switzerland (slash France) for almost two weeks. Yay!)

Also, I painted my room (finally :)), and I'm really happy with it. Makes me realize how important it is to claim your space for yourself. I'll pop the pictures on here, so you can all admire it and praise me like you should.
Oh, dance music.

Also, we just went to watch a film in Ennis. "Scott Pilgrim vs the world". Totally awesome -- really funny, and lovely because it's not a remake or a sequel. And it's about a 20-something from TO, so there was a little "look, it's Canada!" in it for me too. :) (Many times I was the only one laughing in the theatre...but that only made it better.)

And, contrary to the last post, I did not in fact go to Electric Picnic. That was the plan...but then suddenly I had no way there, or back, or any place to sleep (it was a camping situation, but there was no room for me where the people I was going with were staying...or something...and the ride they'd set for me fell through). So I looked around for a bit, and then realized that the more I thought about going the less I wanted to. My stomach sank, in fact, each time I thought about it. Nothing to do with who I was going with or anything -- the Invisible Music and Theatre Guild are really cool. However, it was a little too up in the air for me. Plus I don't like camping. I wasn't Irish enough for it (the see-what-happens part, not the camping part).
Anyway, I didn't go and it was totally the right decision. Yay listening to myself! :)

Also, I spent a few days (and nights) this week over at Inis (the other house) because they were short-staffed with a coworker on vacation and a baby around. So I went there for a bit to help out in the mornings (especially), and it was lovely. Such a different atmosphere. I like both houses, but I do also like varying it up sometimes. And when I was there we watched Kick Ass (a film which is funny and unexpectedly violent. Still, overall a good one to watch if you have a tolerance for those kinds of things).

And now I just need to kick myself in the ass to get going on the play again (re. MG). (Sorry for the profanity, it was just too good of a segue to pass up). Got all the research things here, I just need to sit down and do it in a big chunk...which I find hard to do in my days off because I'd want to just stay in my room and do it except everyone else is around and the walls are thin (and I'm easily distracted). Maybe I'll go to the library... :)

And that's about it. Nothing too major going on here...usual ups and downs.
Started thinking about the future more, seeing what I need to do to apply to the NTS and trying to convince myself I can leave the job hunt until later. It's working so far. :)
Getting really excited to go home (not because I don't love it here and am really glad for everything I've learned and everyone I've met...but still. I'm excited about the moment when I get off the plane in Fredericton, because then at least for the Christmas holidays I can drop a lot of responsibilities and just hang with people. Ha. That doesn't sound so good on re-reading, but it's true and honest. I love it here, and I'm all for responsibility...but when there's an offer to leave it for a time, it's exciting. :))

Ok.
The next post will be more exciting, I promise.

I hope all is well with everyone, and that the autumn is beautiful where you are and infecting you with the same sort of "everything IS all good" contentment it's giving me. :)

LOVE.

and opposite to this wall is...

this one!


(and the other two are white).
Artsy, no?

LOVE.

photos, from the bright lights

Hey, realized I had some photos from Dublin and thought "There's this crazy new thing called the Internet, where you can do such things as display photos for those at home". Or something like that. (Sorry, high on caffeine and tap dancing...I just figured out how to do those wings from standing on my toes, and was tapping off a wheelbarrow like Adam Garcia...more or less. Yay!)

Ok.

Enjoy. :)

St. Stephen's Green. Mm, sun. :)

I think I found what Roary did before he left the home country, B.
In the green beside the Dublin Camphill (it's the conjoined part that you can't see.)
Ha. This one's for you, TF.

These two go together, and were just too pretty to pass up. Plus, I'm a sucker for the stories.

Part one...

...part two. Banksy, je crois. :)

Totally telling a story, right? Just not sure what it is yet. :)
This is the parking garage where Maud's St. Stephen's Green house used to be. Oh, "progress".
How many Higs make 5?

the Spire, O'Connell St.
rooftops, because I think they say a lot about Dublin.
Blurry me, post-busking in ye olde Irish pub. (With L). :)
Why not?
My first coffee bought with busking money. And it was good, too. :)

LOVE.