When Bad Things Happen to Good Plans

Life is an adventure, and sometimes, no matter how much we plan, things go off course. When this happens, it's what we make of it that matter most.

Last night I met up with a friend for drinks and a movie. We went to see Ponyo, which was quite lovely and just a touch bizzare. We saw it at the Nova, which is on Lygon St. I frequently meet up with friends on Lygon St, so I was not concerned about how I would get home after the movie. I figured I'd take the tram up to Moreland Rd and catch a bus the rest of the way home. The other option was to take a tram back into the city, and catch my regular tram home.

We had a couple of beers before the movie, and, thinking it would be a pretty quick commute home, I decided I could live without hitting up the bathroom before I caught my tram. I'd just missed the tram I needed, so it was a bit of a wait for the next one. I got to my stop at 9:20pm and looked at the bus schedule to see how long I'd have to wait. The next bus wouldn't be coming until Saturday morning! It was at this point that I started to regret my decision not to use the bathroom at the theatre.

I was about 3km away from my house, which is a walk I'm quite used to, but isn't exactly a desirable distance to walk when you have to pee. I called Marshall to see if by some miracle he was home on a Friday night. He was not. My friend Gillian lives very near to where I had found myself stranded, and I thought about calling her, or just turning up on her doorstep, but decided against it. I didn't think it would be fair to ask her to drive me home, so I forged on without contacting her. This turned out to be a smart move, I'll get to that in a moment.

Now I'm certainly not opposed to finding a good bush to relieve myself in, but the street I was walking down was too open and well lit for that. Faced with the option of wandering down side streets trying to find a dark place to pee or continuing on and hoping for the best, I decided to hope for the best. The 3km I had to walk is on a hill, and let me tell you, was I ever glad it was downhill all the way home! I made it, and was humbly reminded of the life rule to never pass a toilet by.

This morning, I got a very unexpected call from my friend Gillian. It turns out the previous evening she had gone to a friend's house for dinner, and when she went to leave she realized she'd left her keys at uni. She ended up spending the night at her friend's place, and borrowing her friend's car today so she could get a spare key from her landlord. She wanted to go to the office to pick up her keys, but her keys to the office were IN the office... So, Gillian came by my place and we headed into the city and were able to successfully retrieve her keys from our office.

It seems to just be one of those weekends where things go pair shaped. But, it hasn't stopped us from having a good time.

Tradition

Last week it was my birthday. I am now a whooping 27 years old. I had celebrated my 26th by going to see The Burlesque Hour with a group of friends, mostly people from uni. This year I wanted to do something different. This year I wanted to start a tradition.

I've been in Melbourne for a year and a half now and I am quite settled here. I know the city fairly well, but am still exploring and learning new things about it. I have a developed a good, solid group of friends, even if they are still mostly friends from uni. I am starting to meet new people and expand my social circle. So this year felt like the perfect time to start a new tradition that I look forward to developing for many years to come.

This year, I celebrated by throwing a Mad Hatter's Tea Party.

I have been collecting assorted tea saucers for some time now, and made the trip out to Daylesford in July to complete my discordent set of 13. I borrowed tea cups from Kirsty, and over the coming year I will be searching out bizarre ones to purchase for parties years to come. I picked up 2 tea pots from the Vic Market, so if you ever come over to my place you can have a proper cuppa.

I filled the house with fresh and fake flowers, including these lovely daffodils that bloomed beautifully in their Womaton vase (another great Daylseford find). And I baked and baked and baked. Banana and chocolate muffins, rasberry and pear honey cake, seaseme tofu cubes with a dipping sauce, and leek and zuchini fritters.

I purchased all sorts of fruits (strawberries, pinapple, dried apricots, pear, passion fruit, mangsteen, grapes) and cheese and crackers and wasabi peas and M&Ms and Hello Pandas and even fortune cookies (though I put those in an obscure location and no one noticed them).

We had an Andy Warhol colouring book, along with a few obscure zines I had purchased a few years back in San Francisco that turned out to be a pretty good laugh.

There was 9 of us in total, which was a good number. My house is pretty small, and any more of us would have made it difficult for anyone to move around. It was a lovely mix of people and conversation flowed easily. Lots of food was ate; wine, champaign and tea were drank. Sugar rushes ended in sugar crashes and everyone went home feeling whimsically fulfilled.

What a great way to start a new year!

It's Not Worth The Risk

Sometimes a commercial just really gets to you...

Last month was Railway Crossing Safety Awareness month here in Victoria. The following add encouraged us not to race through railway crossings as the safety gaurds come down.





Well, today I saw railway crossing safety reach a new level. It's not a long walk from the train platform to the footpath where I can cross the tracks, but lets say it takes about a minute to reach from when I get off the train. And by this time, the train is long gone and the crossing gaurds are up, indicating that it is now safe for cars to continue along their way.

I came home during peak hour today, and when I crossed over the tracks I noticed that there was quite a lot of cars backed up along what is normally a busy but not backed up road. Since all the cars on my side of the road were grid locked, I walked through them into the middle of the road, looked to see if any more cars were coming, and suddenly realized something:

On both sides of the road, the front cars stopped at the railway crossing had remained stopped well after the train had left the station. What was even more bizzare was the fact that no one was honking at them to move it along. In fact, it wasn't until myself and another pedestrian crossed the road doing double takes of this bizarre traffic situation that the other drivers started to notice something was wrong and got on their horns.

Some things are worth waiting for indeed!

Sunny Winter Days

This year Melbourne has enjoyed a fairly mild winter. We could do with more rain, and there have been some very cold nights, but on the whole, it has been a lovely winter. The kind of winter I can sign up for experiencing year after year.

This past week I have been housesitting for friends who are vacationing in Cairns. Their house is in the south, and since I live in the north I don't know this part of the city very well. This afternoon I decided to go for a wander down to the beach. I walked along the boardwalk, then along the beach, being careful not to step in the jellyfish that had washed up along the shore.

Even though I have been here for a year and a half now, this was only my second time going to the beach in Melbourne. The first time I went during the heat wave and ended up with sun stroke, so I have been reluctant to return. But today, while the sun was out, it was still cool for me to actually enjoy my walk along the beach.

After having satified myself with the beach, I decided to wander back, taking a different route than I had come by. Fortunately I was not in any hurry to get back, as I ended up walking in the opposite direction from my friend's house.

I like to explore, and taking a wrong turn can often lead you to some interesting places. I try not to be so concerned about the destination when I set off wandering. After all, you can't be lost if you know where you are. And I knew that I had just walked through Elsternwick Park and was walking along the bike path beside the canal, since my friend's house is near the canal.

Eventually, I came across a train station. It wasn't a train station I was familiar with, but fortunately it was on the train line I needed. It turns out I had walked 2 stations further down the line from my friend's place. I desided it was time to get myself on a train and home!

I'm taking care of my friend's cats, Jack and Floyd, as well. The boys were happy to have me back home and I gave them both a brush as they came out back to play. Then I got myself an afternoon snack and went to sit in the sun on the front porch. I opened the door so the cats could join me. Floyd was quick to come and sit with me.

I was reading a book when Jack decided to join us. I looked up to see what Floyd was up to and noticed a ginger fuzzball on the other side of the front gate! The little sneak! When I opened the gate to get him he knew he'd been naughty and came running right back into the front yard. After that, he didn't try to escape again.

Now that the day is cooling off we are all snuggled up in the house. Tomorrow I plan to go exploring the markets at this end of the city during the day, and in the evening I'll be baking muffins as Lizzie's prize for winning our hair growing competition. She beat me by 2.5cm.

Until next time...

Psychic Colour Waves

In the time I have lived in Melbourne I have become aware of a strange fashion phenomenon that commonly occurs amongs this city's residents. I call it: Melbourne's Colour of the Day.

Melbourne is a very fashion conscious city to begin with, and it appears that the fashionistas of this city have developed a sixth sense for spotting trends and taking them up....on the same day. I usually notice this because a disporportionate number of unrelated people will be wearing the same colour schemes, or a particular style or accessory. Yesterday's esoteric fashion phenomenon: orange stockings.

I haven't quite caught on to the psychic wardrobe transmissions that are forcasting themselves throughout this city yet, and I'm not sure if I want to. I like that Melbourne has this vibe where people wake up and just know that today is the day to wear their orange stockings, but I'd rather retain what's left of my sense of fashion individuality. I don't have any delusions of having a totally individual sense of style -- I may not have caught on to the exact day that I should be wearing my orange stockings, but I do have orange stockings. As much as I love this city and want to be a part of it, sometimes I enjoy getting to be on the outside, looking in.

Alternate Universes

I'm back in Melbourne now, settling back into my old routines, after a very relaxing and wonderful week in Hawaii. Being back, I feel like I've travelled to another planet and back -- my lives in Calgary and Melbourne are so different from one another, and well, let me explain.

I was so prepared to have a horrible time when I came back to Calgary that it took me quite awhile to realize that I was actually enjoying myself. When I finally did realize that I was having a pretty good time I was a little flabbergasted by the discovery. I was also a little saddened (just a little) by it because it meant leaving behind a bunch of really great and amazing people, again.

Over the past year and a bit, I've lost a lot of contact with my friends, and a lot of family, in Calgary. When I came back, I was surprised to find myself surrounded by a group of amazingly talented and supportive friends. I was also amazed at how easy it was to pick up with lapsed connections. Sparks of life were reignited in friendships that I thought had dwindled down into acquantanships. It seems the time apart and the growth we've all done in that time has really allowed for connections on new levels to develop and blossom. I am truly sadden at having to leave those friends behind, once again. I hope, though, that the friendships continue to grow, even if we are on opposite sides of the world.

Being so far away from any sort of biological family means that I have to be independent in ways I otherwise would not. For instance, this evening when I got off the tram and discovered it was pouring rain and I was not properly dressed for the weather, I couldn't pick up the phone and call a parent, sibling, or grandparent to ask for a lift the kilometer back to my house. (That being said, if my housemate had been home, he probably would have come right out to get me if I called and asked.)

But in the year or so I've been living in Australia, I have learnt not to ask for help. This is something I am starting to unlearn as I realize that I have many friends who are happy to help me, and that there is a difference between asking for help and expecting to receive it. Being back in Calgary, where it was easy for me to pick up the phone and ask for a ride or whatever, I often had to stop myself from relying on others to chauffer me around. Leaving Calgary, I realized how much I would miss the convience of being able to call on family for help with various simple things. I also realized how much I need to buy my own car.

So, while I was happy to be leaving Calgary, I was also keenly aware that I was leaving behind some pretty great things too. And, having been away from Melbourne and out of contact with much of my circle here for a month, I was also feeling a bit less like I was heading home and more like I was heading back into the great unknown.

The week I spent with my Mom in Hawaii was wonderful. It was a true vacation. It completely took my mind off of the sorrow I was feeling about the people I left behind in Calgary, and the anxiety I felt about what I would be returning to in Melbourne. It really wasn't until I was well on my way hurling down the Pacific that I started to feel anxious about returning to Melbourne.

After arriving for Melbourne for the first time in February of last year, it really didn't take long for me to start feeling like I was at home. In fact, I felt more at home in this strange country where I hardly knew a soul than I had ever, anywhere, in my entire life. But, as I made my first big trip to this place I so strongly proclaim to be home, I started to question why Melbourne, above anywhere else, is the place I call home. I knew that my feelings for this city were intense, but on that flight from Honolulu to Sydney, I wasn't sure as to why.

As the plane began its decent, the woman sitting next to me struck up a conversation. She was also from Melbourne. We talked about what would be involved with transferring flights in Sydney, discovered that we weren't on the same connecting flight, and joked that I might end up on her flight as I was unlikely to make my connection (which I didn't. We ended up being on different flights, but we arrived in Melbourne at the same time.) We talked about the footy and what teams we barrack for. And slowly, I started to remember.

Once we touched down in Sydney, I turned on my phone and started to reconnect with the social circle I've built up for myself here in Melbourne. Because I had to switch flights at the last minute, I lost out on my vegetarian meal on my flight to Melbourne. The flight attendant gave me some cheese and crackers, and some buns from first class, and the man sitting beside me offered up his cheese and crackers for me as well.

When I got off the plane, my housemate was waiting for me at baggage collection. Over the years I've gotten so used to having no-one waiting for me when I get off a plane that I had forgotten how welcoming it is to have someone meet me and help me with my (ridiculously large and heavy) bags.

Over the weekend I mostly just relaxed and worked on adjusting my body clock to Melbourne time, but I also caught up with my former housemate, Kirsty, who is, essentially, my big sister. Today was my first day back at uni. I was a bit nervous about going in, partially because it's been so nice to take a break from my PhD, and partially because that break meant telling my supervisors I didn't finish my ethics application.

As soon as I got to my campus, I was greated with lots of warm "Welcome Backs" and, from one of my bosses, a "thank god you're here!" Oh I missed those boys! It hasn't taken me long since I've been back to remember why I'm so adament about Melbourne being my home. It's the people. In Calgary I have some amazing friends, but the people in the city tend to be angry, dissatisfied, unfriendly, and rude. No matter how many people meet me at the airport, it doesn't feel particularly welcoming there.

The difference is so stark, that being back in Melboune has been like returning to a different planet. That being said, going back to Calgary was like visiting a different planet too. A lot has changed in the city I used to call home since I left. But going back made me realize how much I've changed too. Coming back to Melbourne has been humbling. It's strange, to be a migrant. To have a place that is unquestioningly considered home from the outside, but where I don't want to live; and to have a place that unquestioningly in my heart is my home, but where I don't have the legal status to permanently call it my home (yet) ... it's all a little strange.

Ah, Calgary

My time in Calgary is quickly coming to an end -- in under a week I will be relaxing in the sun in Honolulu. This trip hasn't been so bad though. I was prepared for the worst and it turns out I have actually enjoyed my time back. That being said, I'm looking forward to getting back to Melbourne and am definitely feeling like 6 weeks away was a bit too ambitious. Maybe part of that is the guilt I feel for not having worked on my ethics application, which was supposed to be approved by the time I got back. Or maybe it's just that being back in Calgary is not my ideal way of spending my vacation time.

Regardless, it has been good to be back, on a number of levels. I've enjoyed catching up with friends and family. And I haven't broken out into horrible rashes, confirming that I am allergic to suffites, and not the water in Calgary. The best thing about being back has been realizing that it's not so bad to be back...for a visit. I could never live here again, not if I wanted to be happy.

Calgary is still the soul sucking place I remembered it to be, and it seems like things are slipping backwards instead of creeping forwards. I admire the people that stay on and try to challenge the repressive corporate cuture of this city, but I don't blame anyone for leaving the moment the chance arises.

It's been amazing to see how much the cost of living has risen here. It's nearly on par as Melbourne, which is shocking considering how much less value you get for your money here. Public transit, for instance, is only slightly more expensive in Melboure (and a day pass is less expensive) than Calgary, but in Melbourne you can actually get to nearly every corner of the city at nearly any time of day or night.

In Calgary, if you're downtown past 6pm, not only are you walking along empty streets, but it's really not safe. I have heard a ridiculous amount of stories about people being harassed and attacked by anyone from drug addicts to police officers in the still civilized hours of the evening on the streets of downtown Calgary. The more I see of this city the more I think it really has disintigrated into a wild-West era vigillante run city.

If I'm downtown at night in Melbourne, I'm not really worried about being harassed by anyone, and I'm certainly not concerned about police brutality or vigillante street chapels. Seriously Calgary. What the fuck?

One thing I have come to realize from this trip back is that Canada and Australia have both taken very different traits from the British. Canada took on the polite, PC, never-stick-your-nose-in-anyone-else's-business traits. Australia took on the humour, spelling, and gardening. Australians stand up for themselves, and for others. Canadians could learn a lot from this.

I'm looking forward to getting back to the land of smiling faces and sun burns, where community is important, and people help one another out.