Vancouver

Vancouver is known for it's rain, and I saw some of it today. But not before I saw some brilliant sunshine over a lake in the morning of coming in. And two bald eagles flying over the docklands on the way in to Vancouver.

Heidi Nagtegaal and Kristi Malakoff are being exhibited at the Richmond Art Gallery. I know this because I'm living here for the next few days - not at the gallery, but in the suburb - and it's one of the first things I saw here. Picture crocheted facial hair lined up in all colours on the wall. Picture silhouetted outlines of children dancing around a maypole, life-size and almost real.

The second thing I saw, or went to see, in Vancouver was East Hastings. I was told on the train on the way that West Vancouver has the most expensive post-code in Canada, and that East Van was the poorest. I don't know how true that is but I can tell you that the homeless we gave food and clothes to were not lacking for numbers. There I met Paul, who has in his life hitch hiked from Alaska to Mexico and from Halifax to here. I would rather be hearing his stories than writing out my own.

I went to a place called Finn Slough this afternoon. There houses of varied size are sinking back into the river, propped up by their owners with the use of all kinds of things from buoys to boats to antlers.

So

The train. Ah, great. Marvelous. Wonderful. And I suppose I'm glad that I did it when I was younger, could spend 3 days not lying down properly to sleep and have a ball while doing it. 

Interesting things:

The heating in the coach car (mine) failed the night before the morning that we pulled into Winnipeg (average maximum temperature for February: -11. Lowest recorded temperature for February: -45. Temperature during the day as we walked in the sunshine: -22). It was great - I pulled up my sleeping bag and practically had the whole car to myself.

I was offered a job in Jasper.

I was nearly left behind in Hornepayne.

I saw moose running along a frozen river at dusk. I saw eagles swooping over the dockyards.

I looked out the window as we were going through Alberta to see diamondy frosted trees glittering in the morning light. 

Where I'll be for the next few days -

On a train!

This one, to be precise. I will not be emailing, contacting or anything. No requirements other than a gentle appreciation of the scenery. No tasks beyond touristing.

Since research is good for you - try and find Brooke Miller's song Country from the Dome Car, which was the first of many good recommendations that I heard. I'll be trying to see if the tempo matches the time marked by the train.

Sunday afternoon thoughts on a Monday afternoon

But it's a public holiday so it feels like a Sunday. Ontario has an incredible amount of public holidays - today is "Family day". I've been walking around in the traitorous sunshine - cold and freckle-inducing - so here are the thoughts I've been thinking.

I've long had a fascination for cold places - I loved the Snow Queen and all the Russian fairy tales I read at school. (It's funny what you remember, I can remember being told off for "vandalism", and for a while I thought it meant peeling the laminated edge off a desk. I remember making candles out of old crayons and bricks of wax and I remember the small and treacherous chili bush in the playground. I would turn the air conditioning to the lowest temperature setting, take the books about Baba Yaga and shiver under my blanket for authenticity.)

So while everywhere I go locals will talk about the "better times of year" - I have really enjoyed shivering with authenticity. I like the look of empty trees, I like the sight of my breath, I like the feeling around my nose and cheeks when I walk into a shop or house after being in the cold. I'm not too far away from the time when I'll have to return to familiar stars but it saddens me that I'll have to leave all the new ones behind.

Unexpected surprises

I suppose it wouldn't have been unexpected if I thought about it, but what with the Canadian dollar being friendly with the Australian to a point, and if you don't count the silly sales tax that not a single shop owner adds to the written price of anything - CDs in this country are cheap. Fantastically so. It's been a trying few days since I figured that one out. 25 kilos is still the maximum weight I can move back to Australia...

Sudbury

There's a song about this place. I'm fairly sure if you type it's name into google you'll find it, so sleuth away if you're so inclined.

My experience was not the same as described in the song, but I won't predjudice you... maybe I'll tell more about it later.

First though - the wind on a snowy day sometime this week must have been a blowy one, the trees on the way back to Toronto had been given a snowy exoskeleton. Snow bones for the trees.

Impossible land

To furnish my post below:

Yet we still love this impossible land, even when appalling bushfires strike every few years, and when it is not drought it is flood; much of Queensland was still flooded yesterday, with crocodiles heading south. We love it even when, at times like this when fire demonstrates it has a mind of its own, the love is unrequited.

From here. He also says, interestingly - "Don Watson says that while most Australians live in cities they still imagine Australia as a landscape."

What an odd thing.

Toronto

The other day I went to the Art Gallery of Ontario, recently renovated by Gehry and is as such an amazing piece of architecture. The centrepiece, as the volunteer guide told me with great authority, is a great twisty staircase in the middle of the building. When you stand underneath all you can see are curves and waves and graduated shades of wood and light.

It's only reopened recently, so there were lots of locals wandering around, commenting on the new layout and themed galleries, and the little nooks and crannies. My favorite of these was a little hidden alcove above one of the sections of Canadian art, which had a balcony looking over one of the rooms and armchairs to sit in.

As I wandered through the sections the thing that struck me most was the early Canadian art - European Canadian, that is. As in the colonial art in Australia, there are images of an enourmous landscape decorated with fascinating new trees and plants and animals and people. But the Canadian art is so much more triumphant - there is victory, even though (if your only reference point was the artworks) the only seasons here are autumn and winter, and life is tough. They are victorious.

Australian art on the other hand is full of uncertainty, to my eyes. Early artists weren't even very sure how a eucalypt looked - which is not like a cross between a poplar and a willow. The art tradition that has produced works about children lost in the bush or explorers left out to die meant that the Australians in these works of art are survivors, but not by much. You oughtn't like the bush - it's beautiful but it's not nice to you.

And this morning when I heard about the fires in Victoria and NSW I don't think that's changed, or if it has, not by much either.

On America but not in America

I'm in Canada instead. And it's nice, and it's snowy and I'm going to go explore.

The last full day I have in Ireland

Brought with it a few interesting things. Russia had generously donated a great deal of cloud, which has meant quite a bit of snow.

Which was lovely, not very cold to stand out in while the sun was shining in the morning - there was a mystery cloud delivering some snow that wouldn't stick, and the sun was up so it was like a painting by Magritte.

However, unlike Russia, Ireland and England aren't used to it. No snow tyres for them, thank you very much, and don't even think about asking for salt for the footpaths. So Dublin and Heathrow airports may be my temporary homes until the weather clears. Calloo, callay! Oh frabjous day.

Leaving

I will be leaving Europe on Tuesday. It's not a happy thought.

I'm sure my next stop will be marvellous, it's just that I wish I had longer.