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

Stay Classy, San Diego

Other than what I learnt from watching Anchorman, there was only one thing I knew for fact about San Diego. It was close to Mexico. But even with that being the extent of my knowledge, it didn’t take long for me to decide that San Diego was up there with Chicago and New York as my top most liveable cities in America.

It was a long trip from Philadelphia and not since my arrival in Canada last Octover have I been welcomed at the airport with open arms. Granted, the open arms belonged to my friend and host Mackenzie’s brother, Jackson who I had never met but it was nice to feel so warmly received, after so many cold arrivals at unfamiliar train and bus stations around the country. Within seconds of meeting Mackenzie’s siblings and parents, I felt like I had known them my whole life. They were more excited for me to be there than I was myself.

Being within 15 miles of the Mexican border, the influences on San Diego’s architecture, food and culture is obvious. The houses are scaling cement fixtures of terracotta orange, stark white with red tiling and arch windows cut straight out of the walls. Cacti grow in the place of roses and garden beds are a rich palette of yellow grasses and frosty green succulents. The small patio of my San Diego abode (Mackenzie’s mum’s house) is a messy forest of grass and growth which feels like it should be overlooking a turquoise bay somewhere in Cabo.  

When it comes to beaches, San Diego doesn’t disappoint either. A 10 minute drive across the bridge and you’re at Coronado Island, the Newport of San Diego. Anyone familiar with The O.C. would find an instant appreciation of Coronado – a small coastal community where the mothers are as youthful as their daughters and the surf rats play for the water polo team. But the beaches are beautiful and the view back at downtown San Diego is undeniable. Being a community unto itself, ‘The Village’ of Coronado boasts an array of boutique and independent shopping – The Bay Bookstore, The Attic Boutique and Boney’s Market. A purchase from each will give you a new book, a new bag and a sandwich to take with you for a few hours baking on Coronado beach.

The sun-kissed look made famous by Californians is best showed off at night. The night life is found at the Gaslight Quarter, a stretch of clubs in downtown San Diego which oozes everything from bronzed blondes to bikies. The Tipsy Crow, a three-tiered institution has a deceivingly classy cocktail bar and a deliciously debaucherous basement hiding beneath it, where the green laser show and Rhiannon music says it all. Once you’ve had your fill of five dollar shots and cheap G&Ts, it’s on to The Field. The meter-high stage, tucked into the far corner of this Irish pub make the dark wooden booths slightly superfluous. The Irish punk band of a Friday night will have everybody on their feet and if you’re lucky, you’ll stumble across a bachelor party just to seal the dancing deal.

A little too much fun at The Field meant we lost a day of San Diego appreciation to wallowing on the couch but we bounced back today by spending the morning at the Balboa Parklands, San Diego’s version of the Smithsonian Institute. A morning of wandering around the botanical gardens and National Cottages in the sun quickly took its toll, so we went searching for retail therapy in Hillcrest. There’s nothing like successful thrifting in San Diego’s gay suburb to top off another perfect day in the ‘whales vagina’.

Ciao for now. xo