edmonton

One of Edmonton's many lovely cafés - Remedy! I arrived in this little refuge for a mint tea in the morning minutes before my French exam on Thursday, and was encouraged by the messages in the bathroom.

Tender, unabashed wall scribbles like these remind me of the walls of my high school theatre tech shop, or the bathroom stalls at UC Berkeley's and UBC's environmental science departments, or the Italian cafe-slash-general store I used to do homework at off Clement St in San Francisco after high school, where the tables had drawers full of handwritten notes. Or the jars of wishes at the bottom of Soames Hill in Gibsons, my morning ritual. Or the bathroom at Gina's--a new sapphic/queer Latinx space in Vancouver's Chinatown--full of posters and archival photos, and all kinds of queer joys, rages, and longings written from corner to corner. Or I think of the first gender-neutral bathroom I ever encountered, at Samovar Tea Lounge in Yerba Buena Gardens in San Francisco: washing my hands next to some random mid-30s, hipster white guy, myself a pretentious, enthusiastic, and overly self-conscious 17 year old, peacefully coexisting and going about our bodily functions, thinking to myself "spaces like this are going to change the world!"

I love these bathrooms, or desk drawers, or wish cauldrons. They are marketplaces of truth, love, freedom, and kinship - secret little commons!

During the 2 hour break between the sections of my French exam, I roamed the galleries of nearby 124th St and, through the art, learned about the landscapes and cultures of the Prairies. I also stopped into an esoteric book/crystal/whatever store, bought the above book, and tried to flirt with the hard-to-look-at-beautiful cashier who said she liked my earrings (!).

It's sort of hard to flirt when you are buying a workbook about building self-confidence.

I'm not sure if I was allowed to take this pen, but I took it.

Upon returning home after my exam, I quick-changed for my nightly activities, which started with a celebratory Japanese meal that I sadly took no photos of. It included spinach miso soup, steamed rice, tuna belly, eel, and a cheeky glass of iced plum wine. Yum. I read The Red Tent and ate happily while the man at the table next to me complained to his son and daughter-in-law about the government, and that it's no longer PC to make fun of the "homosexuals". Alberta!

Then I frolicked to the theatre and was dazzled by my first glimpse of Edmonton's theatre infrastructure! I was reminded of the sheer scale of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, Oregon, which my theatre class took a field trip to in high school and which I have returned to in adulthood with no less awe and gratitude. I am so glad we still live in a world where theatre takes up space in cities.

I saw this show, Tough Guy, which to be honest, didn't totally land with me. It was an intense show with good bones, but it never quite released its tension, and the writing and acting both felt young in a not self aware, sort of insecure way. Perhaps it was too relatable... heavy subject matter aside, it reminded me of all of my least favourite parts of queer culture. Alas.

When I woke up the next morning, fully liberated from my French test and reborn a newer, freer being, I was greeted by Edmonton's first snow of the season! What a treat.

I started the snow day with a lovely yoga class, where, at the end, the instructor gave us all forehead massages! Pretty delightful doing yoga in a 4th-floor exposed brick studio with snow dancing down outside the huge framed windows.

After being a computer monkey for most of the day at my various jobs, which are straggling along in their final days for the season, I once again ventured to the theatre. I barely made it in time for the show after running approximately 15 blocks in the snow and dark! Oh, the delights of having very recalcitrant time management skills.

This show, Big Stuff, was simply spectacular, and I wept and laughed in equal measure! The performers were experts both in improvisation and in connecting with the audience. One couple they "interviewed" during the performance (actual audience members!) had been married for over 60 years, originally set up on a blind date when they were 17 and 18 years old (respectively). Upon first meeting they reported thinking one another "cute" and "neat". Their first real date as a couple, later, was a barn dance!

It felt like a very special gift of artistry and of love to see the two performers, Naomi and Matt, share the inside world of their relationship. And an even more special gift to be wrapped up in the small community of stories they managed to weave together between all of us audience members in just 90 minutes. After the show, Naomi and Matt simply walked off stage with the rest of us and roamed around the antechamber chatting with everyone, asking follow up questions about audience members' stories and sharing more about the journey of their project. It was impossible not to want to be their friend.

As an aside, the theatre infrastructure at the Citadel downtown was beyond my wildest dreams.

Walking home in the nighttime snow after the show was very magical, like there were secrets whispering from tree to tree and from lamp post to lamp post, swirling around me like unassuming deer.

When I got home and unpacked my things, I found this fortune! I wasn't sure where it came from, but I felt it was a good omen, and beyond that, it was precisely what I needed to hear.

On my final day in Edmonton, a Saturday, I flocked like a homing pigeon to the farmers' market, my spiritual homeland. There were so many wonderful vendors, and I chatted and flirted and inquired to my heart's content. I was joined by a friend of a friend who lives in Edmonton, which was a very sweet connection to make, and who also made a lovely shopping spree companion! We sampled chili jams, gluten-free cinnamon buns, and craft liquors and meads galore.

My quest at the market was to find gifts of goodwill for all of my upcoming hosts in California, many of whom are newly un-estranged family members... so the gift-giving pressure was on. Notwithstanding, I had great success, most especially with a wonderful potter who I felt immediately to be a kindred spirit. She even wanted to live in Gibsons! And we had the same hair. No photos of her, sadly, but you can see her pottery further below.

After promenading the market, my morning adventure companion and I launched ourselves onto Whyte Avenue, where we browsed around all kinds of stores far beyond my little wallet that could. While we popped in and out, I was regaled with histories of Edmonton, from archival photos of developing industry, to generations of drag queen/king/thing drama, to protest and non-profit dynamics amongst different urban actors. I loved it.

We had arepas for lunch from a lovely little spot, and I shed a tear reading their newspaper clippings, feeling grateful that I could eat an arepa in Edmonton and think of my family in Providencia (Colombia). Food connects us everywhere! Eating arepas in Edmonton makes me feel that, more and more, I don't have to silo the parts of myself, as the world around me changes a bit more in my favour.

We had ice cream in honour of our mutual friend, who is an ice cream connoisseur and had personally approved the shoppe we desserted at.

Now, once again, you can enjoy a tour through various objects - this time, the gifts I have procured for my Californian hosts!

For my beloved friend Ian, who is also a kindred spirit. We ran a Socialist Club together in high school in a little trio with our friend Camila, and have only collected more hobbies in common since. I adore Ian! I thought he would like this tiny elk spoon, because I like this tiny elk spoon, and Ian and I have the same taste in almost all objects.

A ceramic fortune cookie for my sister, who has just moved into a new home that she likes very much, and who I would like to wish good fortune.

These called to me as gifts for my grandparents. I have not seen either my grandmother or my grandfather for at least 10 years, due to ~family troubles~, and I would like to offer them each a token of connection.

My grandparents--my father's parents--have been divorced for over 50 years, but I learned this past week that they are great friends and are in touch every week, if not every day! I was baffled to learn of their friendship, as I had always assumed their divorce had been bitter. It warmed my heart to learn of their friendship, and my potter friend and I agreed that these little shell-plates represented their twin souls, at least in the eyes of one of the offshoots of their connection (me)!

For my great-aunt Maureen, who I apparently met at age 2 and whose steep driveway is the source of my lifelong recurrent nightmare of backsliding down a hill. She is 92 now!

I will be visiting her at her home in Loma Linda and she is a virtual stranger to me, but I know she is a family historian and a biologist. I wanted to offer her a gift that gives a picture into the landscapes and histories that I am surrounded by here up north, and also that might intrigue a biologist. And what is cooler than soapberry ice cream!

An amazing-smelling tea from a very charming tea vendor, which is for my aunt Megan, who has just had a baby! After much deliberation about whether or not it is rude to give her stress-relieving tea (again, after not having seen her for probably 10 years, due to ~family troubles~), I was reassured by several parties that all new moms are stressed and want soothing things.

This tea smells like watermelon and cucumber and mint.

Finally, a bauble for my beloved Mera, who I hope will store dreams and teeth and fairy clothes and whatever else suits her in this adorable little flower tin. I simply cannot resist getting her gifts wherever I may go, for she is always on my mind and in my heart!

My journey in Edmonton ended with a passage through Vancouver on my way to San Francisco, and I was quite moved by the landscape. What a thing, the coevolution of earth and life! I finished The Red Tent on the plane and was completely floaty in the parallels and contrasts between Dinah's journeys and my own, across landscapes and waterways and cultures, loves and friends and family.

I glimpsed home briefly in the blue of distance-- though I hardly dare to use the word home for my most recent heart-keep, since, in a way, I am going homeward, and homeward, and homeward as I follow family branch to root this week, down in Southern California!

I could see the lights of Langdale before the air and water blurred the landscape, and thought with great longing of all of my beloved beings living out their evenings on the Coast! And with great sadness that, this time, Cinny is not numbered among them. Home without Cinny I'm not sure is home at all.

Finally, I took off for San Francisco, and at the first waft of eucalyptus and sea-fog walking out of Glen Park BART station upon arrival, my heart was... home.