squamish and the birds nest

this one’s for the people back home. and it’s also for me. because I say things like ‘I’m happy here’ and I get a few raised eyebrows because my everyday crotchety grandma routine gives lie to this statement, but you’d be tired too if every day is an adventure. and it is! here’s the proof. if the past fortnight’s been any indication, living in the birds nest will probably be the best way to end my time in the ‘couv. but there’s no use counting chickens before the eggs have hatched did you see what I did there 

CAMPING

squamish is about an hour and a half drive from vancouver, en route to whistler. we went there because we missed the ferry to saltspring because we spent too long grocery shopping. we’re foodies: you know how it goes.

so anyway it was my first time camping and it was wet and muddy and it rained. and I started my first fire and there were a lot of dogs and we forgot to pack enough sleeping bags so it was a major snugglefest in our super spacious tent. and we tried to bake eggs but they exploded and we tried to make coffee in the same pot as the apple oatmeal but we’d used it to make fondue the night before so it turned into chocolate apple oatmeal coffee. AND IT WAS AWESOME.

well I needed to add a bit more sugar. AND THEN IT WAS AWESOME.

we named our enormous slugfriend ‘horace charlie fredston the third’ or something like that. seriously: ENORMOUS. also looked like a pickled willy, but only for the highly imaginative and the under-sixes

—-

A SELF-INDULGENT INTERLUDE 

there should also be a mention here about the night I broke down and had an Emotional Moment when I realised how much I dreaded returning to sydney: someone will say ‘how was canada’ and ‘you have an accent’ and ‘what will you do now’ and I will say ‘fine’ and ‘so do you’ and ‘run away again’ and we will solemnly shake hands for a job well done. but for all my attempts to reconcile myself to living in sydney again, I hate it. I hate how SYDNEY! has become this great big sucking hole in my head where I equate life there with a 9-to-5 job and a steady routine and a circle of friends where socialising = an afternoon at a cafe, once a fortnight if schedules permit it, maybe quiet drinks if we’re feeling particularly adventurous. to all the people who want to hang out when I’m home: this is not going to happen. you need to reintroduce me to the joys of the city, and we need to learn to throw plans to the wind and go as the mood takes us. happy-making! I’m going to make our catch-up time fun, or I will be cranky and demand we try again until you think I’m certifiable but at least it’ll be memorable. and that’s the important thing, accumulating good times to balance out the bad.

all this stemmed from the terrifying moment I realised I couldn’t lead the life I’d planned out for myself only this time last year, that it was absolutely balls and time to draft up a new plan, one that involved spending as little time in australia as possible, and one with plenty of opportunities for challenge and self-growth and interesting experiences and etc. which is just as well because this was about the time the prostitute got into the house and kiri and I hid in the closet until jess got rid of her

also this was the weekend I forgot to call my parents. it was their 25th anniversary, I was in the freaking wilderness, so glad I have lanawaffle to bring my mother flowers like the dutiful daughter I never was

—-

KIRI’S SURPRISE 25TH

this was the day I got really aggressive and rude towards all the boys in the room except for jimbo, because he was too busy making kissyfaces with jess under the hammock to notice the minesweeping sausagefest in the living room.

but I made a freaking awesome cake. too bad jess shoved kiri’s face into it and piled cream in her hair so that when kiri drunkenly demanded I spoon her I had the smell of rancid dairy up in my grills all night long

it was a weird night. jess soaked the fruitbowl in pure vodka which made the boys randy and the girls rowdy and A got into a megafight with his brazilian wife and we randomly invited two sets of strangers into the party, no three including the ones from cafe du soleil who had moustaches and guitars and spent the whole night serenading kiri. but there was a couple who’d just gotten engaged and I drew henna tattoos on their ring fingers in place of actual rings because they were drunk and I was drunk and it was a beautiful night

mostly for the food. and the jess/jimbo tension playing out to its not unsurprising conclusion, and $3 hangover food 

23 days before I fly home, 25 days before I arrive in sydney. I have a long list of things to do and I really hope I get to cross off most of them. saying goodbye to people will also be stupidly hard, you’d think I’d be used to this by now.

things you will probably say to me when I’m home: you look tired, have you put on weight, what happened when [___], do you have a canadian boyfriend, did you see snow, where’s my souvenir, can I borrow your clothes, how did your pictures turn out, are you happy, were you happy?

I can only give one clear answer for the last question. may I direct you to the first photo again: I haven’t looked this sincerely happy in several years. the challenge is to recreate this come the end of may.