Here's To The Future (um, someone hand me a drink...)

I could count the amount of days I have spent in the USA over the last 15 months or I could just sum them all up and say - a lot. So, after a lot of days spent in the Land of the Free, I have returned to the Home of the Mounties.

Even at the tail end of summer, Canada manages to be chilly. While all my fellow Vancouverians (Vancouverites? Vancouverers?) trot around in cut-offs and tank tops and apply sunscreen (whaa...?), I am in leggings and a cardigan and sleeping beneath the biggest comforter (that's Canadian for doona) imaginable. Seriously, every duck native to the mid-west was primed and plucked for this thing. A human could drown in the down.

By no means was San Diego hot, at least according to this Australian, but returning to the wintery world of Canada only further reminds me that the summer truly is over and my time in America has come to its end. I've said goodbye to Appel Farm, I've said goodbye to my friends and I've said goodbye to WaWa warm cookies. Let's just stick the knife in a bit further and say goodbye to the warm weather, shall we?

My bitterness stems from having an amazing final week in San Diego. I could not think of a better way to spend my final days in America (although lying on a banana lounge at a five-star resort in Mexico does spring to mind...). Mackenzie and her family were the kindest hosts, making room for me in their homes and lives and giving me the locals' guide to San Diego. We went biking around Coronado Island, ate wicked Mexican, visited the Birch Aquarium and each night, returned to the warm comforts of home. No fighting for kitchen space in the local hostel or counting sheep while some nameless backpacker with a sinus problem snores light a freight train in the bed next to you. Just the couch, a blanket and the most adorable Shnauzer-cross-poodle you've ever seen dropping a floppy frizbee in your lap and looking up at you with hopefull eyes.

But that said, on return to Vancouver, I remembered what is was I loved about this city. Sure, my last visit was for all of 32 hours and the visit before that, a tidy 2 days, but I know enough about Vancouver to feel confident that given the opportunity, I could make a happy life for myself here. Last night, my Vancouverian and Appel Farm friend, Zosia took me to an abstract theatre performance in Granville Island called Brief Encounters. It was a mixed-medium performance where 12 artists from different disciplines are paired together and given two-weeks to create a 15 minute live performance. Watching each creation and later discussing them with like-minded artists instilled in me an incredible sense of purpose and belonging. For the first time since leaving Appel Farm, I felt excited to be a creative individual out in the real world and to be finding a new Appel Farm to belong to.

So here's to the future, whatever that might be.

Ciao for now. xo

Travelling Alone - A Pro and Con List

Pro - You can crawl out of your miserable hostel bed at what ever time you please. You are your own alarm clock.

Pro - You can eat what you want, when you want, where you want and for how long it takes.

Con - Sometimes, sitting at the bar with nothing but a vodka and soda for company makes one feel kind of pathetic.

Pro - You can stop and shop in a store for as long as you like.

Con - But when you find that gorgeous dress that is about the same price as a few nights in a hostel, it would be nice to have a second opinion to make you PUT IT BACK ON THE RACK! YOU CAN'T AFFORD IT! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO EAT?!

Pro - Deciding what you're going to do, where to go to get there and how long you're going to be there before you move on to the next tourist attraction, doesn't take the entire day to organise. You're own itinerary is just that, you're own.

Con - When you're standing in front of the World's Biggest Blah Blah Blah, it would be nice to have someone to share it with.

Pro - You can take as many photos as you like without someone tapping you on the shoulder, telling you to hurry up because they need to pee/are hungry/are tired/will cut off your fingers if you take one more damn photo.

Con - You take so many carefully aimed selfies of you and said tourist attraction, even Facebook would be ashamed. Or, you have to do the awkward "Hi, can you please take a photo of me in front of Lake Who Really Cares?" and then try to smile while hiding the fear in your eyes that the good samaritan you just asked to be your paparazzi might suddenly make off with your camera.

Con - With no one to share the load, you constantly look like a pack horse.

Pro - With no one to share the load, you don't have to listen to people complain about how heavy your and their bags are.

Pro -  You can sleep on the bus/train/plane.

Con - It would be nice to have a friendly shoulder to sleep against on the bus/train/plane.

Con - When the old man who sat down next to you on the bus/train/plane starts telling you about his rheumetism, you'd sell your soul for a friend to turn to keep you conversationally unavailable.

Pro - When the cool cats you met at the hostel invite you to spend the day with their travel party at That Beach or That Park or That Neighborhood, or are also heading to That City on That Train and staying at That Hostel, it's nice to feel your little heart inflate. Ah, friends.

Pro - When people ask what you're doing and who you're doing it with and you say that you're travelling alone, the impressive look that crosses their face makes even your toes feel proud.

Con - Then the pride turns to fear as you worry that they might kidnap you or steal all your belongings, including your sacred collection of travel magnets.

Pro - When you're sitting alone in a cafe eating the most delicious breakfast you've ever wrapped your lips around, or on the train whizzing past burnt orange corn fields and electric blue skies, or standing in front of the most magnificent sculpture or building or creation, and you could share it with someone or you could just exist their quitely taking in the sheer awe of this inspiring world you're in, travelling alone totally trumps.  

Ciao for now. xo

A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Elvis Please

Being my first time really travelling and all, I've been very conscious of being too much of a 'tourist'. I want to be a 'traveller' and have done all I can to steer clear of feeling too much like a photo-taking, souvenier-buying, oohing-ahhing bright eyed tourist - and that means, occassionally foregoing some of the more tourist-heavy hotspots.

But I couldn't come to Memphis and pay hommage to the King, right?

So I donned my blue seude shoes and made the epic trip out to Graceland to say G'day to Elvis Presley.

And when I say epic, I mean epic. The public transport in Memphis leaves much to be desired. Trying to get from my hostel (which is on the outer suburbs in the middle of nowhere) to Downtown via bus is a touch-and-go experience. One morning, I made it all the way with my connecting buses arriving on time - a small achievement for a traveller. Today, I ended up walking about 4 miles to get back to my hostel from the city (simply to save the 10 bucks I'd have to shell for a cab). Thankfully, a free bus runs between Graceland, Sun Studio and the Rock n Soul Museum so once you make it to Down Town, it's fairly easy to get between all three.

Anyway, on to Elvis.

Graceland is a 10 minute drive out of Downtown Memphis and is just one part of the sprawling metropolis that is Elvis Boulevard. There's the Graceland mansion itself and then there is every touristy extra you could ask for - gift stores, additional museums showcasing his cars and airplanes, photobooths, Heartbreak Hotel for the real Elvis enthusiasts. It's all quite an experience.

As is the mansion itself. Okay, I'll admit. Me and my tourist-allergy were dubious of both the mansion and the $30 I had to pay to get in it. But that being said, the experience itself was kinda, sorta, just-a-little, okay, pretty damn worthwhile.

I was in the house of The King! The man who changed music forever, the man who has sold more records than any other musician in history. In his very house where he walked around in his pyjamas making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. That's pretty cool, right?

The mansion isn't all that big, but the furniture and interior decorating makes up for the size. The rooms are still fitted out with original interiors, which include a 'jungle room' that's full of fur furniture and plush green carpet and an indoor racketball court that Elvis had made escpecially - seems he was a bit of a racketball enthusiast. There's a field for horses, a basement dedicated to televisions and Lisa Marie's original swingset.

And then, out by the pool, is Elvis's grave which is now more of a shrine than a grave site. He rests next to his parents and grandmother and the whole 'meditation garden' (as it's been coined) is covered in dedications - posters, floral gardens, candles - that his fans have brought from all over the world. More come every day and it's the rule of the mansion to accept every dedication and keep it by his grave until it wears or withers.

The most touching tale I heard was while I was waiting in line for the bus back to the Elvis-epicentre. One of the mansion staff was remarking to a couple about the amount of visitors they'd had in the last month (having recently been Elvis's birthday). She said a family with kids arrived and the kids started asking when they would get to see Elvis, eventually bursting into tears when their parents explained that Elvis had passed away.

A story like that melts even an anti-tourist's heart.

Ciao for now. xo