pause

so many photos and moments to share. will be back once I'm in one place for more than one day!

divide and multiply

This holiday season, I have been slicing up my time into neat little packages: a lunch here, a sleepover there, and some furious holiday baking and last-minute gift shopping in between.

Shuffling back and forth via go train and street car, I managed to fit in a few visits (though not nearly as many as I should) during several consecutive snow storms. Nature and circumstance conspired against me in several ways. At one point, Amy and I were stranded for 3 hours after she drove over a recycling bin, jamming it into the wheel well of her mom's truck and rendering the vehicle immobile. Only hours later, I was trapped in between the track and a building, when a go train blasted me into the wall with a powerful assault of snow, ice, and rocks. I was the only one who had walked out onto the platform, so about 50-100 people watched from the comfort of the glass shelters as my suitcases and I were absolutely covered in snow.

Cabs were hard to come by, and the walking was tough with my heavy bags, but each time I reached a destination or saw the familiar face of a friend or family member greeting me, suddenly, all the wintery strife was forgotten.

Let's face it, some times it really sucks to divide up my time and my visits into short intervals in different cities and towns. It's a logistical nightmare and it involves a lot of me lugging bags in snowstorms. It also sometimes makes me sad that people I love are so spread out, that they don't know or necessarily get along with each other, and that I am never able to see everyone I want to.

I take the train from Montreal to Toronto. I am picturing, in the moving blackness out the window, all the things I will do and all the questions I will ask and all the faces I will finally see again in person over the holidays. In my pocket agenda, I know who I get to see, and what we will do. A lot of this is determined by the schedules of not only my friends, but by their families, boyfriends, children, fiancés. My extended world is growing at an alarming rate.

Initially, I was thrown off as I planned this trip. Organizing visits is becoming a lot more complicated with so many more people thrown in the mix. My life is fragmented enough without taking into account the increasingly carved up and weighed- out time slots of my friends. We used to have each other and holidays with immediate families. Now we have lunches with mothers-in-law, office christmas parties, baby showers of co-worker's fianceés...and so it goes.

Clearly, this is how it goes. How, you know, life goes. As the fingers of my childhood friends are steadily being colonized by diamonds, and our conversations shift to matters of 5-year plans and mortgages, I feel a knot forming in my stomach.

But something changes in me once I actually arrive and start spending time with my friends and family and the new people in their lives. I see changes in them that make me so proud and reassured. I take an immediate liking to the people who have stolen my time with my friends, and quickly understand why they have captured their hearts. I don't feel usurped. Instead, I feel a space open up in my heart and in between our lives that can only be filled by what is new.

Even though, over many drinks, my friends and I laughed at Kait when she said, "your heart just swells," at this time of life, I think she was brave to own up to this uncomfortably strong, sweeping feeling.

When I met Rozzie's 3-month-old nephew, Mason (feet pictured above), I recognized what I'm sure is clear to others but hasn't been to me: that as things grow and change, I don't have to divide myself into pieces and become less than whole. I'm not losing anything. Rather, I make room for new people, traditions, and feelings as I grow up.

The multiple lives I live now, filled with those I love (and those they love) in countless cities, are richer than any simple, streamlined life I could ever struggle to create.

Merry Christmas.

two days 'til my train leaves

Is the idea of a Christmas wish too trite? Is it too naive to hope that one (or several) would come true? Do I need to feel guilty for wishing when I have so much already? Most of my wishes (and yes, I do have several) relate to things I want to become, to work towards in the year ahead. I also demand a lot of the holiday season—that it be cozy and slow and full of sugar and fireside chats, but also jet-set and fantastic and notable.

In my mind I sift through my increasingly french thoughts to make sense of why I want the things I do, and how I can reach them most directly, but also most beautifully. The life inside my head is so much more vibrant than the one through which I tread, but I'm working on flattening the two into one, seamless layer.

there's no business like snow business

Winter has finally arrived, and Montrealers are dutifully pulling on arctic appropriate footwear, shoveling cars out of snow trenches, and treading carefully over the ice on spiral staircases.

The ploughs are out in full force, as are the feisty, smaller ones that clear the sidewalks, and would not hesitate to run you over if you don't jump out of their way. This morning, when the snow was still heavy on every doorstep, I saw people peeking out their windows to assess the snow removal job they had ahead of them.

And despite the significant snowfall, life goes on faster than ever; these days people just use the slickness of the ice to propel themselves along the sidewalk. Interestingly, while treading through the powder and slush today, I noticed that loudspeakers on the street light posts are currently blasting christmas carols. It's a nice soundtrack for my window shopping.

the price of spirit

It has dropped down to minus 20 here in Montreal, and the steam from a big pot of chicken soup is condensing on our windows.

Today just happened to be a day off from both my french class and internship, so I have been hiding away from the cold all day, poring over christmas cards, job prospects, online sudoku games, banana bread, website planning and jewellery making. Not a bad way to spend a Monday!

In an effort to get ourselves into some kind of spirit, brian and I put our xmas lights around our windows, and decorated our beloved (hand-me-down) silk plant. A simple trip to the dollar store (12 glittery, golden pears and 6 gold hearts for a two dollars) was all it took to fill me with an uncanny sense of nostalgic comfort. I know this is supposed to be a frugal holiday season for all of us, with less of a focus on material objects, but I think a toonie for some sparkly paraphernalia is acceptable.

Without giving away too much, I am also making all my gifts this year. They involve beads, canvas and Fimo, and some other secret ingredients not to be mentioned at this point.

I also decided to send out some xmas cards this year, and saved money by making them myself. I took the best scribbles from my french notebook, transferred them onto white paper, and traced over them with a sharpie. Then I took my designs to the copy store (two card designs on each piece of paper) and had them copied onto red, green, or yellow card stock. For 50 cards, I spent about $7. I'm trying my best —both out of my own financial necessity and as an acknowledgement of the financial milieu we are in—to cut back as much as possible this year.

But that doesn't mean things won't be pretty and personalized. I love gift-giving, and I am going to uphold that tradition by giving out simple, homemade trinkets and treats. Hopefully no one will mind.

A while ago, I posed for a photo shoot at my internship that had a "recessionista chic" theme. In virtually every publication, I have seen photo spreads, fashion features and gift guides with a similar cheap chic/frugalista theme. I suppose it's great that "thrift is the new black," but I've been shopping in consignment stores since elementary school. Now I have to fight the ruthless, aggressive shoppers who once flooded the malls at my usually quieter used clothing haunts. I know, how bratty of me.

But, I am always a bit wary of fads and flash trends. But maybe this theme isn't comparable to life-long bibliophobes claiming they love reading after discovering The Da Vinci Code. Maybe this really is a movement of necessity, a significant cultural shift, and maybe some people (including myself) will learn to appreciate a more spendthrift lifestyle.

Or will we all resume flooding designer shoe stores and getting bottle service as soon as things start looking up?

How much will we cut back this year, and how deep into debt will we be willing to go to keep up the holiday status quo? Will the holidays this year be lacklustre due to our cutbacks, or will it be refreshing?

a musical debut

After one year of songwriting and practice, my band mate and I debuted our 12 song collection to an equal number of friends tonight.

My band mate and I are very different people. He is from a super Italian area and we joke that we speak different languages. In fact, we do actually speak different dialects of English and I often have to ask him to translate his slang for me.

Musically, however, our communication is crystal clear. I am really proud of the music we've been working on, and I'm very excited to share it with you all in a few months time.

After receiving feedback from our audience tonight, we're going to pick 5-6 songs to record starting in January. Before you know it, you may be getting a cd in your mailbox or zip file in your inbox from our band, Vignettes.

"je suis entre les deux"

It's always while losing myself in some delicious bite of one delectable meal or another that I continuously fall in love with Montreal. The food culture here is truly unlike that of any other city I've lived in.

Even the most modest restaurant takes pride in presenting simple, fresh and delicious items, and they don't overcharge. Although there are many well-known eateries serving haute cuisine, for the most part going out for dinner is not prohibitively expensive. In fact, most restaurants make it affordable for anyone to have a nice dinner without draining their bank account.

I have become especially fond of bring your own wine places. I'm sure it's obvious why. And I'm quickly growing accustomed to being delighted by the array of cheap and amazing dining options that abound. It's unusual that I'm not impressed.

That being said, maybe it's the onset of the Christmas paraphernalia, or maybe its just been a while since I've home, but pre-holiday homesickness is definitely setting in. Despite being surrounded by amazing restaurants, chocolate shops and cafés, there is nothing I crave more than a home-cooked meal at my parents' house. I love cooking, and I try to appease myself with homemade soups, but it's just not the same.

This is my third December living in Montreal. I've slowed with the picture-taking of the city as, I suppose, I've become less of a tourist. But while preparing for a presentation on Griffintown in class (a historic Irish neighbourhood in south-west Montreal) and going through all the photos I've taken of it and other neighbourhoods, I realized how cool it is to look back on the ways I've seen the city over the last 2-3 years. It has changed shape as I've come to know it.

So I've decided to stay in the habit of taking photos when the moment strikes. For some strange reason, showing photos to my readers (many of whom do not live in Montreal) makes me feel a bit more connected to home. It's as if I can share a part of all this with you, even when I feel far away.

At times I feel I am starting to belong here, and at other moments* I wonder how any non-native can ever feel at home in Quebec given the political and emotional residue. I know that may sound harsh, but it's very frustrating that one's best efforts to integrate and to fully embrace a new space and its culture are met with a rebuff.

It's said that Montreal is an Island in every sense (and thus differs geographically, politically etc. from the rest of the province), and it is positioned as a bastion of tolerance. I have met wonderful people here, of course, just as I did in the Lac St-Jean region two summers ago. But in both places, as well as in Quebec City, I have also encountered great bitterness and faced ridiculous generalizations based on my first language. One man in Jonquière actually said, "Hé, les anglaises ne sont pas toutes laides," (Hey, not all English girls are ugly after all) when he met me. The rest of the evening, I had to sit at a dinner table while nearly all the guests alternated between insulting contemporary Anglo-Canadians and ranted about what les anglais did 200 years ago.

Clearly, I am frustrated today and yes, I get frustrated often for this same reason. But I also like to rise to a challenge. And learning French, despite being discouraged in one way or another, is my task au moment.

I was speaking to a canvasser who was raising money for HIV/AIDS research in Africa, who happened to be from Côte d'Ivoire. She was complimentary of my French and we chatted for a while. She told me that although she was born in West Africa, she has a Québécoise mother, and has lived here for 20 years. But, she added, most people tell her they do not consider her a Québecker. "Pour la plupart des gens ici, je suis entre les deux" (for most people here, I am between the two). For this reason, she finds herself identifying more with her roots.

If it's been 20 years for her, will I ever feel closer to belonging?

* like today, when I found out my French teacher waited until we three anglophones were absent to rant about les anglais to the rest of the class, even though she said "je ne parle pas de la petite Dallas; je l'adore! The fact that she refrained from speaking badly of anglophones in front of us shows she knows what she said was objectionable.