One short flight (under 2 hours) and I am flying over the lights of Montreal. I look out the window and see the Olympic Stadium with the dark mass of the Botanical Gardens beside it...downtown looks so small and twee! What will it be like to walk these streets (the order of which I have nearly forgotten)?
Josh meets me at the airport - so nice to have a smiling face there to greet you (not to mention a huge hug!)
Being back in Montreal = weird
Sleeping in my own bed = weird
Knowing friends are in the same city = great, but weird
Seeing Morpheus = weird, he looks different
Walking to the shops to buy stuff to clean the house = feels like I am on holiday, or have experienced a strange time shift; it's like when I first moved to the city except I know more where things are
Trying to fix my ear problem without going to the Dr = warm water trickling down my face
Monday, July 13, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Stop 15: Chicago
With leaves raining down like confetti onto the roadway, the bus sped its way to the airport. I am leaving Hawaii, heading to the mainland and that shaky sense of home. There is something ineffable about Honolulu that makes it rather attractive. I mean, it IS beautiful (I've just been spoiled). The thing is, however nice it is, I couldn't imagine living here, though those that do seem to love congratulating themselves on it, almost giving themselves one huge pat on the back (much the same as I do about Montreal I guess). It all seems a little too tinsel town to me, like the city that never grew up, basking in its balmy breezes and palm trees without looking at the natural beauty it eviscerated. This is one of the greatest tragedies of many modern cities, I fear, that they so lack the history (especially architectural) that makes older ones so much more appealing.
Just as some people profess to feeling a sense of place or...humanity in a house, for example, I believe the same can be said for larger human constructs, and Honolulu, in my eyes, feels rather empty - a shell still looking for the thing that used to fill it. That it was sold long ago for negligible profit serves general amnesia well: furthermore, what could be done about it now, anyway? This dull thud at the door of despondency/inability to make a difference once history has swept through is...universal? I wish I could think of more answers instead of questions.
Chicago, by contrast, is such a beautiful city, not in a stuffy, traditional way but a far more fun one; like an adventure playground spilled its boundaries into the adult world. Wandering around, your eyes are truly open to all a modern city can be - and is. Granted, the winters here might suck more than in Montreal (the winds, or that the 'southerners' have less kaputz than their Canuck counterparts?) but wow, this place has a lot to offer! When you're sick of architecture there are parks, museums, and the water: Lake Michigan stretching out like a sea in disguise. From the minute I landed at the airport (just like entering Melbourne), I knew I would like it here. And I plan on coming back - this before this visit is even over!
Just as some people profess to feeling a sense of place or...humanity in a house, for example, I believe the same can be said for larger human constructs, and Honolulu, in my eyes, feels rather empty - a shell still looking for the thing that used to fill it. That it was sold long ago for negligible profit serves general amnesia well: furthermore, what could be done about it now, anyway? This dull thud at the door of despondency/inability to make a difference once history has swept through is...universal? I wish I could think of more answers instead of questions.
Chicago, by contrast, is such a beautiful city, not in a stuffy, traditional way but a far more fun one; like an adventure playground spilled its boundaries into the adult world. Wandering around, your eyes are truly open to all a modern city can be - and is. Granted, the winters here might suck more than in Montreal (the winds, or that the 'southerners' have less kaputz than their Canuck counterparts?) but wow, this place has a lot to offer! When you're sick of architecture there are parks, museums, and the water: Lake Michigan stretching out like a sea in disguise. From the minute I landed at the airport (just like entering Melbourne), I knew I would like it here. And I plan on coming back - this before this visit is even over!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Befriended in Honolulu's Chinatown
However much I may be underwhelmed by the mass-consumption aspect of American culture, I must admit that its people are perhaps some of the friendliest I have encountered. Take this evening as an example. I had sat nearly all afternoon on the beach (the perils of a good book and a lovely setting) before deciding to do some of the things I'd decided on earlier in the day. I took The Bus towards Chinatown and wandered around the Palace grounds before crossing various highways to get to Chinatown. I'd heard it had lots of small art galleries, restaurants and bars but all I seemed to find were Irish pubs (funny how they seem to be in all parts of the world, even Hawaii's Chinatown) and a handful of dodgy characters, some of whom seemed adamant to get my attention with 'hey baby"s.
I found refuge in a busy Chinese restaurant. Sitting alone for the first time in a week I felt oddly at sea. How did I do this for close to 8 months? The servers asked me 4 times if I was ready to order before I'd even put the menu down...I felt like I was in the way but was determined to enjoy by solitary supper despite the Antarctic conditions - why can't anywhere seem to get air conditioning right? - yet to appease my nerves I got out the bus map to try to figure out how to get to my hoped destination tomorrow. I noticed an older man looking at me but presumed this was due to my idiotic non-application of sunscreen (I had not intended to spend all afternoon on the beach) and subsequent trendy panda look: very white around the eyes but red as a tomato elsewhere.
Next time I look up, there he is at my table, and offers to help me out with the map while inviting me to join him and his friend at their table. Yay! I was all too happy to have some company. It turned out that the two very friendly gentlemen were both architects, had lived in Hawaii for about 40 years and were great dinner companions, funny and interesting and constantly filling my plate with various dishes they'd ordered (although they kept declining my rice...maybe they knew something about the restaurant that I didn't?!) In the end Chris even drove me home, telling me about his family, advising on places to go and overall being such a friendly person.
Perhaps I remind people of a certain age of their children, or look oddly vulnerable with my short height and ruddy (today at least) complection*. I say this as in Kyoto I had a similar experience. Entering a sushi bar I was pointed to a seat next to other westerners (even though others were free). The girl I was sat next to exchanged some small nicety before she continued her loud (maybe drunk?) conversation with whom I deduced were a colleague and her father. There was something about her that I found abrasive and...threatening in a way. Not that she was violent - more that I felt cowed by her presence. So loud, so self-assured and confident. I wanted to have some of that same sense of purpose and the wherewithal to wear short short skirts yet still look business-womanly. However her anecdotes were mildly amusing as overheard dinner talk (was hard not to hear, I think the whole place must have reverberated with her tales of geisha spotting and other slices of Kyoto life). Just as I was wondering when my tempura plate would arrive her Dad swaps places with her and starts to apologize if their talk had disrupted my dinner... I felt bad, because it had and I had been thinking semi-uncharitable, semi-jealous things about his daughter. We proceeded to talk while we finished up our respective meals then they asked if I would like to join them for a drink. It turns out she had been teaching in Kyoto for 4 years and was heading back to the States for a month or so before going to another teaching job in Shanghai.
Going to pay for my meal, I was told that it had already been taken care of. Furthermore, her father would not allow me to repay the kindness by getting the beers at the bar we went to.
Though these acts may seem simple to those with the means and inclination to carry them out, it is such things that can really make a big impression. I don't mean so much getting the bill (which is a tremendous gesture in and of itself) but befriending a complete stranger and making them feel less of one; less alone in an unknown place, less of loose string and part of something. Sharing... I wrote a long e-mail last night which touched on this keystone to life. More on that at another time I think. For now, it is time for me to catch up on lost sleep (noisy road near the hostel, lack of companion to sleep beside, beginnings of a uti - lurvely) amid the warm feelings for strangers who become, even for the briefest of times, friends.
*I deliberated for a long time over the spelling of complection. Complexion came out first, but looked wrong. However, the British way of writing it looks wrong too. The decision on which to use was fraught with overtones of being worried about appearing prissy, stupid, and forgetting my country's way of spelling and saying things.... Still cannot decide which looks 'right', in fact I think it would be best to spell it complekshiun to really throw a spanner in the works!*
I found refuge in a busy Chinese restaurant. Sitting alone for the first time in a week I felt oddly at sea. How did I do this for close to 8 months? The servers asked me 4 times if I was ready to order before I'd even put the menu down...I felt like I was in the way but was determined to enjoy by solitary supper despite the Antarctic conditions - why can't anywhere seem to get air conditioning right? - yet to appease my nerves I got out the bus map to try to figure out how to get to my hoped destination tomorrow. I noticed an older man looking at me but presumed this was due to my idiotic non-application of sunscreen (I had not intended to spend all afternoon on the beach) and subsequent trendy panda look: very white around the eyes but red as a tomato elsewhere.
Next time I look up, there he is at my table, and offers to help me out with the map while inviting me to join him and his friend at their table. Yay! I was all too happy to have some company. It turned out that the two very friendly gentlemen were both architects, had lived in Hawaii for about 40 years and were great dinner companions, funny and interesting and constantly filling my plate with various dishes they'd ordered (although they kept declining my rice...maybe they knew something about the restaurant that I didn't?!) In the end Chris even drove me home, telling me about his family, advising on places to go and overall being such a friendly person.
Perhaps I remind people of a certain age of their children, or look oddly vulnerable with my short height and ruddy (today at least) complection*. I say this as in Kyoto I had a similar experience. Entering a sushi bar I was pointed to a seat next to other westerners (even though others were free). The girl I was sat next to exchanged some small nicety before she continued her loud (maybe drunk?) conversation with whom I deduced were a colleague and her father. There was something about her that I found abrasive and...threatening in a way. Not that she was violent - more that I felt cowed by her presence. So loud, so self-assured and confident. I wanted to have some of that same sense of purpose and the wherewithal to wear short short skirts yet still look business-womanly. However her anecdotes were mildly amusing as overheard dinner talk (was hard not to hear, I think the whole place must have reverberated with her tales of geisha spotting and other slices of Kyoto life). Just as I was wondering when my tempura plate would arrive her Dad swaps places with her and starts to apologize if their talk had disrupted my dinner... I felt bad, because it had and I had been thinking semi-uncharitable, semi-jealous things about his daughter. We proceeded to talk while we finished up our respective meals then they asked if I would like to join them for a drink. It turns out she had been teaching in Kyoto for 4 years and was heading back to the States for a month or so before going to another teaching job in Shanghai.
Going to pay for my meal, I was told that it had already been taken care of. Furthermore, her father would not allow me to repay the kindness by getting the beers at the bar we went to.
Though these acts may seem simple to those with the means and inclination to carry them out, it is such things that can really make a big impression. I don't mean so much getting the bill (which is a tremendous gesture in and of itself) but befriending a complete stranger and making them feel less of one; less alone in an unknown place, less of loose string and part of something. Sharing... I wrote a long e-mail last night which touched on this keystone to life. More on that at another time I think. For now, it is time for me to catch up on lost sleep (noisy road near the hostel, lack of companion to sleep beside, beginnings of a uti - lurvely) amid the warm feelings for strangers who become, even for the briefest of times, friends.
*I deliberated for a long time over the spelling of complection. Complexion came out first, but looked wrong. However, the British way of writing it looks wrong too. The decision on which to use was fraught with overtones of being worried about appearing prissy, stupid, and forgetting my country's way of spelling and saying things.... Still cannot decide which looks 'right', in fact I think it would be best to spell it complekshiun to really throw a spanner in the works!*
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