Oh!!! Blog…that’s that journal thing right?
I’m glad I don’t have any pets, because if my blog is any indication it would most definitely be dead by now. Although I guess a blog can be defined as dead when the author’s last post, consisting of a total of maybe a line, was a good two weeks ago. Plus traffic is at an all time low….might have something to do with the fact that there is nothing to read.
Well my excuses are as follow:
1. I had no time in between the a) partying b) packing c) crying and d) flying
2. When I got home the ingrained habits of the house forced me to be lazy like I was a year ago. Damn it…I though I lost that!
Well the question of the hour is: “How is it to be home again?”
And the answer, as to any, comes in two forms. One to people whom I know well and feel I can bore with details, and the other to people who really couldn’t give a shit but ask out of politeness/they have nothing else to talk about in their boring lives.
The latter is “great!” (my apologies if you recieved a “great” but if you would like to return your great for a more boring detailed description just call me and I would be more than happy to oblige). The former begins with some sort of non-committal grunt (ie. “Uh”) and ends with an explanation of this obvious relation of my home town to the sound of a bowel movement. The explanation, depending on how tired, creative, cranky or mean-spirited I am feeling that day, ususally consists of something along the lines of the following:
“It’s great to see some people again, but Charlottetown just doesn’t have quite the same feeling as…..Vienna for example”. Which generally true, but in a nice way. You just can’t go from Vienna one day to Charlottetown the next without some rough and probably long lasting cultural whip-lash.
I find this example quite representative:
You go walking in Vienna’s first district with a friend, at around 10pm. Possibly with a bottle of wine (illegal in Charlottetown). Perhaps you meet a homeless person who tells you a fantastic story about his ability to run marathons. Perhaps you walk along the stunning rows of beautiful buildings houses for such things as the Opera, the Royalty, and the Concert Hall. All beautifully lit up of course. Perhaps you strike up a conversation with a random passer-by who happens to have been, at some point in his life a student of Einstein’s and is now the Dean of Physics at Vienna’s Universtiy after spending much time at CERN in Switzerland.
*Flash forward to return home to Charlottetown*
You go walking with one of your most trusted and best friends, just to get some fresh air and chat, about women mostly….as usual. You walk down town, get a staff cone at Cow’s (thanks mike) and continue your walk until it starts getting dark. You decide to walk to the boardwalk and follow it to get home. The town is beautifully lit up and the breeze off the water is cool as you bounce your way past the Confederation Centre to the beat of the Budhan Trio on Victoria Row. The water is calm and the lights sparkle off it like diamonds. And the smell of the sea, yes a stunning beauty different but equal to that of the Hapsburg city of art. And just as your conversation is nearing that profound resolution, why women are the way they are, you hear a car horn blare as an old clunker of a car putters by. A young guy leans out and yells to the long time friends enjoying the beauty of the warm evening and each others company, “SUPPORT GAY MARRIAGE!!!”. Ironic to the conversation being had? Yes. Completely ridiculous and un-needed?Very. What made it better was that the sentence first had to be deciphered out of it’s very rural and very east coast accent in which it was originally spoken. to my ears it sounded like “SUPERT GEY MERRIGE”. It did take a minute to click I’ll admit.
That experience, which was not a new one for me, due to my separation from it for the past year brought on a strange new feeling. Embarassment. But not on my part, no, I was embarassed for whoever uttered those absolutely comical words. It was also a little bit of amazement, in the realization that people like that really do still exist.
Call me cynical, call me a snob, but it is the truth what you just read. Now tell me that globalization, even in small towns, is a bad thing.
I do love Charlottetown and it will always be my home as long as family and friends remain here. But it’s inhabitants never cease to amaze. The musicians I also realize who are somehow super-bred here on this little island must be fed something in their cereal when they are young. Per Capita charlottetown, I am convinced, could compete anywhere in the world. And they do in fact. Amazing!
Have a safe flight home Maryse, and try not to laugh too hard at the first east coast accent you hear. I don’t think the flight attendant on my plane liked it very much when I laughed at her offer of salted peanuts and something to drink. I just told her I had been in Europe for a year and that seemed to clear everyhting up. Funny how people make Europe represent whatever they want it to.
case in point.
Good Night!
