Spring Awakening

After three months of mind-numbingly cold weather, of wearing thermals under everything, of having my eyelashes freeze, my hair freeze and my snot freeze, spring has finally come to Banff, Alberta.

And how do I know this?

Because Banff itself is melting.

What used to be a winter wonderland of white has now melted into a slushy pit of brown. The gravel spread over the roads during the winter to stop cars from slipping on the ice has turned the melting snow to sludge, leaving large pools of stagnent icy water all over the footpaths.

The melting snow, however, is thanks to the balmy above minus weather we have welcomed in with the new season. No more -25 degree days up on hill. Oh happy days.

As nice as it is to have the sun back in my life and to feel it slowly burning a goggle tan into my face, I can't help but feel just a little nostalgic for the depths of winter - for the roads covered in snow and waking up to my phone beeping messages that the mountain is closed due to the freezing temperatures. Those were good times.

In rememberance of the winter wonderland we lived in, my housemates and I spent last week ice-skating at the Fairmont Springs outdoor ice-rink. We walked home along the Bow River trail (what seemed like a great idea at the time, until we realised the trail was actually closed due to snow conditions) and as we walked, the sky started puking snow.

It may be warming up, but with the spring comes the spring snowfall.

And that means powder days.

Ciao for now. xo

Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues

I've found it hard to blog since being in Banff, which is the reason for my lack of posts. My life has fallen into a routine - wake up, go to work, go for a ride, come home, go out, go to sleep - and the ins-and-outs of my day to day living barely seem blog-worthy.

I have been in Banff for six months now and find myself suffering from a common sickness to seasonal ski bums - the mid-season blues. I find myself tiring of Banff and the all-too-familiarity of it. Of doing the same things, seeing the same people, living in a town that's city centre consists of one by two blocks of store fronts. And the drama... The drama is wearing me out most of all. If it weren't for the lack of cameras following me around each day, I could swear I was part of a trashy MTV reality show.

The irony of this is that I remember a time when I craved routine, when I ached for a cupboard and a place to unpack. And now that my feet have remained in the same place for so long, I can feel them starting to grow numb. Like a cup of coffee left to sit to long, I'm growing stagnate and cold.

I don't know if it's the fatigue of familiarity, a touch of homesickness or just the feeling that maybe it's time to give this travel tale a time of death, but I've been feeling a real pull to return home. I find comfort in looking at what jobs are available and at cute one bedroom studios available in Sydney. I remember my wardrobe and what it felt like to wear high heels and order cocktails and flirt with the suits at Ryan's Bar. I remember my life.

But at the same time, the thought of home terrifies me. It would mean leaving the life I've come to know now. A life of backpacking and exploring and eating at cute cafes in city backstreets and sleeping on long-haul buses and wondering who I'll meet at the next hostel and what waits around the next bend in the road. It would mean finding a new job, a new home, a new sense of stability. It would mean collecting the broken fragments of the life I left and I trying to piece it back together to fit everything I know now. I'm not sure if the strange feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach means I'm terrified of having to do all that or if I'm terrified because I feel I might be ready to do all that.

But despite this strange state I'm in, I'm reassured that with time and a good dose of Vitamin-Stop-Being-A-Sad-Sack, these mid-season blues will pass. Just like the cold, miserable winter weather will make way for blue skies and spring snowboarding, I'll find my stride again as a traveller and all the things I love about backpacking will be returned to me. And I bet the routine of going to work and seeing the same people doing the same things and creating the same drama will be something I'll miss as I'm pulling everything out of my backpack just to find a clean shirt to wear. I guess as a traveller you're always struck between something good, and something better.

And soon I'll find myself back at Appel Farm and Banff will be another folder of photos I'll look back on and ache over.

Ciao for now. xo