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

Welcome to Miami

As if I could call this blog post anything other than Welcome to Miami - right Appel Farm?

I wasn't sure what I was expecting of Miami other than the comfort of Caitlin's house and having a bed and a room all to myself. The image I always had of Miami was of beautiful women in skantily clad outfits rollerskating along the boardwalk of the beach. And while I did see some beautiful women and plenty of skantily clad outfits and the occasional boardwalk, I didn't see any rollerskates.

Thank God, because they're so 10 years ago.

Miami has all the goodness of a tropical getaway with just enough trashiness to satisfy the tourist-at-heart. Her beaches are long stretches of emerald sea, hugged by a golden shore, and lying in the sun (that still refuses to burn me, hurrah!) I was reminded of the coastline from home. Much of my stay in Miami involved just that - lying on South Beach, finishing my book and soaking up as much blessed sunshine as my skin could take.

Being home to a strong Cuban and Latino community offers a cultural zing to the Miami experience - much like a lemon squeezed across a fish taco. The Cuban taxi drivers honk as you walk by, in a way that is innocently pleasing and there is a satisfying selection of authentic Cuban and Spanish foods to try and test (best eaten on the beach). We ventured to Little Haiti, a suburb which plays home to the Haitian community of Miami, where we visited the Red, White and Blue thrift store. This is an experience in itself - the biggest thrift store you've even seen filled with more Haitian men and women than you've ever seen, all fighting for thrift store supremacy. I scored a new satchel bag (leather and Coach - $7.49) and a black tuxedo jacket ($6.49) and a cultural experience to boot.

My favourite memories from Miami however were simply my last two days with Caitlin, my friend and tour guide. Yesterday, we rode her parent's bikes around her home suburb, up to the post office and the ice-cream store and then down to the Bay where we sat on the dock in the afternoon sun. We went out for Mexican at El Rancho Grande and ended up sharing a table with a boy who insulted Australia every chance he got and inevitably made an ass out of himself. She cooked me eggs in the morning and we ate breakfast in silence - the kind of comfortable silence that can only be acquired with a good friend.

And after six days of driving and two days of relaxing, we had our last cup of so so many communal coffees together before she drove me to the airport for our last goodbye.

I think in that moment, I realised camp was over. The last week or so with Caitlin felt like I was squeezing out the last, precious drops of camp. But as she drove away and I was officially on my own in the world, with no camp or counselor-friend to come home to, it felt like the final nail in the camp coffin.

And so, with one last hug and after throwing my near-busting backpack into check-in, I boarded my plane to New Orleans.

Ciao for now.