From Denver, with love - reflections on a week in Minnesota and random memories from the late 1990's

Here I am again, in an airport. It is 4:20 p.m. 2 hours more 'till my flight starts boarding, if on time.

And, judging by the snow outside this one of those times I should be wishing and hoping and praying for my flight not to be delayed (or cancelled... uhm... stick with the other scenario). Too bad, I have little faith in any attempt to change or better the mysterious ways in which airplanes, airways and related stuff works. Just get me to the place as fast as possible all in one piece. That's good enough.

But I don't mind, this was such a goooood week. I got to hang out with friends, very good ones. Ex- 2nd years, co-years and first years from the UWC era. Amazing beautiful people that I had not seen in years. Yet, it seemed that was just a couple of days. And just saying hi to people who went to school with me in Norway... They always have a great smile for you, a couple of minutes to chat, to ask how are you and mean it. Even if they were not your closets friends, they were there, they know, and they were part of it. And there is this bond....

(I'm listening to stuff that remind me of when I was little. Things from this naive age of radios and bad school days

e.g.

)

This break was really like food for the soul. Good conversations, familiar faces, strange faces, a completely crazy dried up arctic-like climate, buses, planes, sleepless nights, colleges, breaksfasts and dinners and lunches, random encounters, Christmas shopping with friends, laughs. It was a reassuring week. It told me the world is still a marvelous place, in all the ways I thought it was. It showed me love is still around, friends are still there and the smiles still express genuine feelings.

(More childhood memories: )


On to more universally serious business:
Why did every pop singer in the nineties have short platinium blonde hair??

I was still in oblivion regarding social trends in hairstyle at that point in life, but a coherent attempt of explanantion by some more enlightened soul would be appreciated.

A flight at 3 Am

I am at Vanocuver International Airport and I am blessed by the gift of free wireless and my laptop actually being with me.

I had to take the opportunity to write a post truly in the spirit, or original spirit, of this blog. It is now 3:30 am and I have been here since midnight roughly. My flight is not untill 7. The perfect mental conditions are created for me to write on the most random tone. Or pherhaps not so random. It is hard to predict what the natural high of long hours without sleeping can do.

All around, cleaning staff, the occasional traveler, in fact, not much. This is a dull airport. Plus, it's hard to find a place to plug-in your latptop.

I just watched "Oscar and Lucinda". The first question that comes to mind is Why does everyone die? But that is too easy... The other is, what about a glass church? I think it is a splendorous idea. I once read a book by Aldous Huxley in which he explained the psychadelic, so to call it, properties of stained glass. He said that it works in the same way some drugs do: if you stare at it long enough you might just visit parts of your counsciousness that you never imagined could exist. I have a project based on this idea. A sort of meditative project, if you would call it so. I plan to choose the most beautiful vitrals in Europe, buy a train ticket and spend a month going from church to church to stare instensely at this glass. I might bring some precious and semi-precious stones along, Aldous said they help too. It requires work, it is not like just some pill you can take. Altering counsciousness with vitrals must be extremely tough. But it is an art I hope to acquire, even if only on a small and initial degree.

I just finished re-reading a paper a friend sent me on the difference between Dao and Nirvana in a Chan interpretation. I discovered that, even if teh topic is new, it is widely refreshing and engaging just because it is not Anglo-saxonic philosophy. I mean, it might be in method, but not in theme. Having come accross the brutal fact of Philosophical life that is the regional division of teh subject. I feel it is important to try to put things together, to be able to be fluent in a number of subjects but also a number of prespectives. Obviously I am neither. But I hope to approach such a state someday. We can only hope to understand a significant part of the endless films, books and ideas around us. I myself wish I could pause time, read, see and feel everything there is in this world, then resume. Foolish, yet indicative of an overwhelming feeling of ignorance. The human condition or the sleepless condition?

No more of this non-sense. Let's fill out some US customs paperwork.

On Vampires

There are vampires all over the place.

For someone who was terrified of even switching the channel to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" in her younger years, had nightmares after hearing a small plot summary of "Interview with the Vampire" and did not like goign to attic because of some vampire story.... this could be a problem. Except! Vampires now are sexy, sweet and not really that ... terrifying anymore!

So, finding the balance: How do we get back to the sensual attractive yet mortally scary and macabre vampire figure back? How do we keep the allure and charm without going "American highschoolish"?

(yes, these are the great questions of existence that come to mind while writing 3 essays in a week...)

A role model must be found. An actual being we can just stare at and have some sort of adoration for. I propose we go back to the 80's. not my favourite decade, for sure. But I must admit... there was Peter Murphy. Probably the sexy yet macabre figure my imagination needs right now.

´

I love listening to Bauhaus. I know.. I know... they were sort of the beggining of the Goth scene and all that. No contradiction: still love them. And specially Peter Murphy. The sort of epic tone, the whole body-language and dramatism... And he is the embodiment of the vampire figure: the light eyes, the elegantly thin face and the slender floating posture. But nothing sweet about him, nothing boyish, nothing particularly tamed. He had that wild energy, and the perfectly calm face, that surprise element about him.



So, just because we are talking about vampires I will take the opportunity to leave a small note. Two movies everyone that goes to see those new vampire stories in the cinmea should see beforehand. Just helps judging what is going on. By this I do not mean the comtemporary stuff is totally a waste of time. What I believe, is that one must see it in perspective and contextualise. Then the actual beauty and message of such comtemporary releases might actually be properly appreciated. So, besides reading "Romeo and Juliet" again and some assorted ultra-romantic 19th century European literature, people should look this up.




1. Nosferatu : YEs, the 1920's version. First vampire movie ever. Important, amazing. Probably the 1979 Werner Herzog version is as good (haven't had a chance to see it). But ntohing beats the 20's when it comes to special effects and terror movies.





2. The Hunger. Tony Scott directing Susan Sarandon, Catherine Deneuve and David Bowie in the 1980's. It's perfect. Every little scene of it. And it starts with Bauhaus performing "Bela Lugosi's dead". In my opinion, probably the best vampire movie ever.

Knitting, men, women and advertising

Most knitting websites aresdirected at female audiences. When they are directed at males they need to have pictures of men with mittens in working shirts digging something up in the woods with their male friends or urban guys with black death-metal shirts on - and a knitted scarf. 90% of the time the caption will hint at the fact that the knitted items were offered by a hip girlfriend or a trendy wife.

This one has an excellent "teen space" for 16-25 knitters. Great models, great yarn and .... nice pictures - www.phildar.com .

And it has men in the photoshoot....

Apparently, if you knit their models and buy their yarn you might just get a really good looking guy that will hold your needles and ask you to knit him a similar one. (And you will turn into the blondie model trendily swimming in that sweater or the sexy skinny one with the attitude and the hat) Compared to the no-male-involvement-at-all-grandmother-attitude in so many of these places, it's a start. Look: they knit and get guys! And hey! No need for hyper-masculinising the male person: he can just have a nice laid-back look with a coulourful shirt and all!

The old commercial trick of "buy our product and he'll show up on your door" might just be an ideological breakthrough in the knitting world.... It's one of those situations where, given the alternatives, I don't mind being oppressed by the capitalist-advertising system... for now.

Rock'n roll and pink feathers

There was a time when you could be a great rock guitarrist and be covered with pink feathers. You still were divinely awesome.

Questions

Questionaire for a Political Science class project:

Are you sexually active?
YES (ok)
NO (ok)
MAYBE (okish)
DON'T KNOW (not ok: having sex while you are sleepwalking can be mildly dangerous!)
N/A

I am as old as Lucy Harmon

I have been 19 for almost a week.
I got my pride back, had champagne and baked a cake. Went to see art galleries with friends through the rainy Vancouverite afternoon/night (hard to say when one ends and the other starts). I am drowning in essays. I will barely make, but I will.... Oh, sweet 19.



I rewatched "Stealing Beauty" by Bertolucci. Was it because I was upset about the never ending rain? Or was it Lucy Harmon. I am as old as Lucy Harmon.... what does that say about life? Irony? Pherhaps...

Lucy Harmon is my favourite 19 year old character. She comes to Italy, to spend some time on her dead mother's friends' place. The rest... just watch the movie... I find it a great performance by Liv Tyler.

And she is so complex, so bright and young and yet so dark in many ways. She is not innocent, but she is confused. Yet she knows clearly what she wants. And, the best part, she is searching exactly for what no one suspects she wants. That is pherhaps her most curious aspect. Everyone has their expectations of what her 19 year old American self should be like, and secretely she pursues such a different line of thought. It is that wonderful miracle that is called the private life of the mind... so, mysterious and fascinating.

Oh, being 19. The last teen. Not that that ever really mattered. But now I am as old as Lucy Harmon.

"More More More!" that 70's Post

It's the 7'0's,

They get me... somehow. I don't know what is happening! I watch "That 70's show", watch the dance scenes of "Saturday Night Fever" and suddenly I find myself making a 70's pop playlist! I swear, it's the aliens, they took over! I just saw one blinding light...

Less drama, now. I just wanted to make a small note about Andrea True and her "More More More!" hit.




It's sooooo 70's. Why?

- the simplistic lyrics : get the message ? Try harder, you might just make one up!
- the beat: finding it hard to keep control of your body and avoiding embarassing "I'm so cool" disco moves?
- the repetition: and they say today music is boring?
- the "mooooooore", epic-type of voice strech: so disco romantic...
- the fact that she does the same thing for 3 min: they didn't have that many ideas for videoclips back then...
- the image quality
- the setting: shinning with the lights of a thousand Christmas trees
- Andrea True: the name - uhm... 70's
- Andrea True: the fact that she was actually a famous porn star - very 70's, porn movies boom era (it disturbs me that the lyrics say "get the cameras rolling, get the action going"... )
- Andrea True: the blown-up hairdo and the sexy boots + hotpants WITH the leather top thingy.... 70's, all said.

Take that!

"The anatomic bomb" of Italian cinema... did not shave her armpits! Ahah! Take that, social norm!

I accidentally noticed this while watching "Too bad she's bad", great film with Sophia and Marcello Mastroianni, and Vittorio de Sica!


This is the ultimate proof that you can get all the sensual charm of a true mediterranean diva without beocoming a child-like porcelain doll.






Because that is what women look like these days: children. Tiny, fragile, hairless. Puberty is a tragedy for us all. Even the ample breasts and hips factor that made Brigite Bardot or Marilyn Monroe icons is restricted in appeal to the porn circuit (and even about that... I'm not so sure). The leaner, the smoother, the smaller the better.

The effect? We all become little young girls in the arms of everyone and anyone. We are so not powerful, so not sexy, so not women. We are just vulnerable, naughty, like 14 year olds wondering what being alone with that guy would be like.

Is this why out Western society is so fascinated and paranoid about pedophilia? Because, in a way, we all deep inside know this does not come out of the blue? Like 19th century Victorian painters, we share a mesmerised gaze at young children, at young girls. Women are no longer queens of the screen, no longer standards of beauty, no longer a focus of admiration, fear and attraction.

And what did Sophia say when they asked her what was her beauty secret?

"Everything you see, I owe to spaghetti."

On communal showering

(I realised I have completely neglected blogging, and that I had a few posts lying on my desktop, so here it goes)

When did we stop having three-way showers...?




Michael Pitt, Eva Green and Louis Garrel in Bertolucci's "The Dreamers"



Mick Jagger, Michele Breton and Anitta Pallenberg in Donald Cammell's "Performance"

I just realised some of the best scenes of the best movies I have seen are baths, communal style... Bathing in itself is something so significant, so magic, about cleansing your body and soul. Something mystical and religious. A shared bath has exactly that dimension, of common functioning, of sharing one's vulnerability and also one's uplifting moments . So, no wonder they make such awesome scenes. They are charged with symbolism and meaning, beauty. Great discussions too: who tells the truth, Clapton or Hendrix? Or just stick some wet paper money on Jagger! These two scenes are just so liberating, so apeasing, they make you want to lie on a carpet for hours staring at the celling...

#18 - This is the end, beautiful friend, the end

Saturday, the 30th May
Schipol Airport
Amsterdam, Holland
Dear Europe
4:10 PM 8local time)

Day 37
(...)
I slept 2 h on the plane and, in just some time, I'll meet my parents, my sister, speak my mother tongue and be in the country of my childhood. Finally.
But first a recap of events during this long final absence form these pages.

on the 22nd I got out of the hostel in Banff to see a sunny, sunny day in the Rockies. It was indeed a spectacular trip by bus, seeing B.C. in all its glory, with gorgeous weather. First stop was Lake Louise. Even though I like Banff better, the mountains there are breathtaking too. in between it was like paradise - the streams and the forests, and the mountains... (...) that morning I noticed the water in those rivers had a peculiar colour. It was very clear and blue, almost green. I had never seen water like that. (...) Golden was evry pretty. The mountains aligned there and my "neighbour" got on there. She was this lady in her 50's/60's lving in a ranch around Golden, but she was going to visit her fmaily in her hometown of Coquitlam. We spoke a bit. She admired my lace knitting and said I was very brave to travel on my own. She asked me what was the scraiets situation I had encountered. That was a good question. my answer was a clumbsy "none". The truth is, I didn't have any scary situations as the common "fear-myth" would make people think.

Roger's pass was amazing, in Glacier Park. That place rivals the Rockies. I wish I could have stopped there. The landscape soon started to change, as we went down the mounatins. Suddenly it all became hills of green grass, lakes and farms by the railway. The train was always next to the highway, the Trans-Canadian. i loved that region after Salmon Arm (...). We hit kamloops - which didn't seem a beuatiful place at all, confirming what other poeple had told me - and then I was too tired. And the mounatisn of Merritt were dull compared to their Eatern cousins. I noticed that they were heavily logged. A shame.

Then the Fraser Valley showed up and I couldn't wai to get back to Vancouver. Eventually there I was. Back to what now seemed more of a big colourful city to my hungry eyes.

What followed was a sort of limbo. By that time I was very homesick, more than now. I was tired. (...) I went to kitsilano , downtown and the Aquarium, all these things I wanted to enjoy without school in the way. And Vancouver felt different. I was alone strolling aroun (...). It felt like a place I was just passing through. It made me wonder if it is any more thna that at any rate. (...)

On Monday I went to my aunt's place (...). It was the real limbo - relaxing, but not home yet. (...)

What am I to conclude of this trip? In Vancouver - the limbo - I made so many reflections and evaluations (...) let's see if I can jot down some stufff.

1) I got to see some more of Canada - important and it makes me feel much better

2) made me loose fears. it was nto all nice but I managed alone . (...)

3) made me accept I need back up (...) I can do it but I can't deal with it all alone, and that's ok.

4) I did what I proposed myself to do. No vague dreaming no more. Life is too short, so you gotta do it. Bad or good.

5) New desires: get a driver's license, see Sasketchwan, move in with Kasia,...

6) Learned to be with myself. and I am quite entertaining.

7) Met characters and lived adventures - life is a story.

8) Laid the foundations for much more.

And it is in this way, jet-lagged but happy, that this trip comes to an end.

And the summer is only beggining...

Filipa


And while the plane took off, all I could hear was The Doors, listening to the most appropriate verses, each of them fully applying, fully touching the core of what I had seen, done and felt.

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land

Lost in a Roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah

The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here, and we'll do the rest

The blue bus is callin' us
The blue bus is callin' us
Driver, where you taken' us

C'mon baby, take a chance with us
And meet me at the back of the blue bus
Doin' a blue rock
On a blue bus
Doin' a blue rock
C'mon, yeah

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

It hurts to set you free
But you'll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die

# 17 flashbacks and bears on the rockie mountains: part 2

so I was in Calgary.

After I had that coffee at Starbucks I knew I had to buy something warm (...). I set of to numerous downtown sjops, but their "summer collections" were ridiculous, expensive and NOT WARM!! After trying a "cowboy shop" and a "cheap clothes" shop, I went into a shop for outdoors sports. Along with the friendly and helpful girl i found the perfect fleece! (...) Happy with that on, I explored the area a bit more, went down to Bow River (tiny!) then went looking for the bus stop [I needed to get back to the bus depot] Ended up asking for directions to a Columbian woman that happily told me in Calgary it could get to -38ºC. Great...

(...) I made it to the terminal at 22:05. On my watch. The thing was, there was already a huge line up for the bus! I had come an hour early to be the first in the line!! (...)m I looked at the watch on the wall: 13:05! It was one hour more in Alberta and I had no idea. My bus was leaving in 10 min and it was by luck that I was catching it! (...) i had to listen to some music to clam down. One lucky day...

When I got out of Calgary I started to see the ranches and the cows and horses again on the prairies. And then we were in this huge snow-storm. The cows were still there (?) but it got progressively more of a tree-dominated landscape. And, suddenly, from the mist, THE ROCKIE MOUNTAINS. At first we could only see walls of rock. Soon enough the tops were visible as the mist cleared a bit. Lilith had decribed them well: majestic. They were colossal, huge masses of rock with shiny white snow on top. Byt the time we arrived in Canmore I was stunned. When we entered Banff National park it was not just the mountains, but the forests and the rivers. All perfectly harmonious, wild, fresh and magnificent. Banff was not snowy, just some flakes falling. A pretty little tourist town.But the mountains.. oh, the mountains were breathtaking.

(...) I had to go and buy some "advised" material for a little walk the next day.
- BELL . keeps bears away because they are more hearing than seeing animals
-SPRAY. an "insurance". Worth 39 dollars. It is supposed to save my life if I'm attacked by a grizzly. [ I later started doubting its effect in case of need]
I must say that all this bear talk sounded scary. 50 $ worth scary. And after bread and cheese from Safeway and an indulgent dinner at Boston Pizza, I headed back [to the hostel]. My 3 roomates showed up. 3 friends from Quebec on a voyage pour comemorer la fin de ses études [ celebrating graduation]. Yes, I spoke to them quite a bit in French and was pretty proud. I noticed there are a lot of people from Quebec around here. They like to visit.

This morning I (...) headed off to Tunnel Mountain. One hour to the top, one back. 1678 m1 So beautiful! I was stunned and ran out of memory in my camera. So many gorgeous valleys and mountains! I had lunch on the rocks on top , with the wind blowing in my face (not cold thanks to the my super-fleece) overlooking Banff town. Gorgeous. And on the other side of the mountain you could see this enormous ridge and Bow river down there. On the side - mt Rundle, my favourite. It is absolutely massive and I wonder how it was formed. It is over 2000 m. (...) in the aftrenoon I went to the Hodoos, these rocky formations next to mt. Rundle that look peculiar, like pinacles, part of a wall washed away by the wind. The walk through the ridge was beautiful I stopped sometimes, just to comtemplate. Msde me feel so good. So positive. (...) The animals were also remarkable. I saw some tiny striped squirrels. (...) And later I ran into a whole family/group of deer. (...) what can I say, Banff is a dream! And the sun is only setting now (almost 9 PM)... (...)

I have to catch a bus at 7:43 AM... better to sleep early and well. tomorrow: a trip across the whole fo BC!! The final part

Filipa

#16 - flashbacks and bears in the rockie Mountains : part 1

HI Alpine Center Hostel, Banff
Thursday, the 21st May, 09

Day 28

Banff was my last stop. tomorrow morning I'm takingthe bus to Vancouver (...). I'm glad Banff was last because it was so good!

But, first, my dealings in Nelson, which I forgot to realte ( Jane Austen's Mansfield Park is affecting me).

THE RAVE

oh, that... It was called "Base Fest" and it was part of the May celebrations of Kaslo, another town along the Kootenay lake, 1h drive North of Nelson. Maia very much wanted to go with her friend Vida and offered to wanted to bring me along (... ) And so we wetn after some body painting (...). The drive to the place was gorgeous during sunset, along Kootenya lake. on the other side of the water there were mountaisn with snow on top - apretty sight on a relatively warm evening. i was excited. i had even put some make-up on. i loved to talk with them and get to know what it feels like to be an highschool kid over here, to know everyone and to live in such an artsy place as Nelson.

When we arrived it was way too early and so we went for a walk all the way to Kaslo ( the party was to be in the forest, a bit away). We talked some more and they introduced me to friends they kept on meeting (small town). Some had camped in the woods, near the party, in what they called a "shanty town" (is that how you spell it?). Later on the party got started. To get to the place in thwe woods you had to climb downa tricky and muddy slope. The coloured ligths around the improvised stage was all there was in the middle of complete darkness. (...)My two friedns who kept introducing me to other locals (all very welcoming and many very interested in the UWC's) were hoping many more pople would come. Their wish came true. Around 11:00 p.m. the place was packed (...) I danced for a hwile but then i got tired. The fact is: i do not know how to dance to that music. It was DJ's stuff, hip-hop, rap. I people kept noding and noding, shaking their arm in a very aggressive way, but that was it. There was no subtle shoulder, no hip movement or even space to move your feet. It was not techno, it was nto latin, nor... anything that wouldn't get me bored. But I didn't get bored. i stepped back and looked. Anthropologically fascinating. The kids kept on dancing to that monotonous rythm with an enthusiasm that seemed even childish. It looked funny. All the boys looked very much the same. They all had "New York ganagsta style", the baggy hip hop thing, popular in Portugal years ago. The girls more tank tops, and some looked like lolitas - slutty clothes and childish bodies. They danced in pairs in very weird wasy, off-beat, for there was harldy any in the music. They looked like monkeys, legs flexed and boys bended as if they were encaging their girls. They looked tiny enclosed by those XLLL-wearing males, while making out. (...) Drinking was widespread and drugs were even more. Dj's were smoking it, people were smoking it, everyone was smoking it. (...)Anyhow, I met a couple of random people. or guys, actually. The crowd not dancing was basically male. I was a girl alone. People gte friendly. This random swiss (known later) guy said hi 1(...) asked me to dance - sounded like "something about my pants" with the noise . Reply: I've got check on a friend [convinient in those hazardous teen parties]. They I met a guy who asked me where I was from. "Hey! You came from Portugal all the way to come to our Base Fest?!" ( had evidently smoked or drank something). "Yep", why not! Kinf of fun. Some poeple had heard I was coming. " You are the girl from Poland right?". I got asked how was South America. It's all good. one guy touched my back, porbably very high, and said he loved the tie-and-dye on my dress. Dude, it's a pattern and you are seeing it blend. You, no the dress. (...) Well, I was at least really glad i got to experience the party-life on and 18y old in Nelson, Kootenays. (...)

the next say was slow. I don't even remeber it very well (...). It was Victoria Day, a holiday to celebarte the Queen's (the Queen Victoria of England) birthday... reallly?9 We had barbecued meat that night and went for ice-cream at "Dairy Queen". I had ocmething called a "a Blizzard". It was huge! So mcuh ice-cream. and so good!

(...) The next morning I went for a walk in the middle of the forest on a trail that used to be a railroad. (...)Finally I went to Gyro park, see the look out over the town that Jesse had indicated. it was settled: nelson was different. It didn't look like other small towns. The residential parts reminded me of Portland and downtown was like Commercial Dr. in Vancouver. the shops were so incredible: so varied! Specialised in items hard to find in larger cities! i ended up pulled to a shop of used books and Cd's. And there it was: an used copy of Jim Morrison's "Lost Writings". I took it and decided to buy it. I always wanted a copy form 1988, looked just right. (...) Liloth took me to the bus and I said goobyes to the welcoming Nelson.

#15 - Alberta : the land of eternal winter ( or so it seems)

Starbucks, downtown Calgary 9 AM
Wednesday (?) the 20th of May 09

Day 27

After leaving Nelson (...) I saw the Kootenays fade into the night. By the time we got to Creston it was too dark to see (...). So I tried to close my eyes and relax. It was a rought night 'till 3AM. (...) kept turning and waking up startled. Eventually I ripped off my eye-band (the one that makes everything dark) and lost it. too bad.

But, more surprising was waking up at 6 AM. Not only was it bright day, it was... really bright. And I was shivering. My feet were suddenly so cold! I looked outside and there it was ... SNOW! LOADS OF IT! It was all white, very very white! I was in what they call High RIver, 2 hours south of Calgary. I got very very alarmed. It was winter! i just landed on an alien planet called ALBERTA. The horses and cows on the snowey ranches were strange. And it was all there was: ranches! It was like Texas, but cold?

It wasn't as unlikeable as people said it was. I liked seeing the flat land, after being stuck in the mountains for so long. It must be nice here, in the summer. Ih, wait, do they have summer?

Thankfully the snow eventually disappeared and Calgary had just one flake falling here and there. The bus station was all indoors (here everything seems to be inside) and it took a bus to get to the city center. (...) But before I went into a bathroom and put on an extra pair of winter socks [ which I miraculously had on my bag], a shirt and a t-shirt over the tank top and under the flannel shirt I had on. Raincoat over [4 layers of summer clothes under] and ready to go.

But it was still cold! The bus driver was very nice and pointed out things for me as we went along and told me how to get back(...). Here is my firts impression of Calgary:
-nice ample streets
- old good-looking robust buildings
-general neatness (...)
- a bit stuck in the 90's (must be the skyscarppers)
- not much besides malls - commercial streets are the important beautiful and historical thing here.
- no homeless - they dies [because of the cold]
- not half as cosmopolitan as Vancouver
- full of offices and oil-connected buildings
-some people biking: too cold to walk?
- a lot of people underdressed - they seem to have lost all sensitivity to temperature
(...)

I need to buy some warm clothes. I do. I need it. God knows what Banff will be like! (...) That will be my next mission before 12:00 - find clothes (a warm sweater) and some food.

In Nelson I had told Lilith how I felt: a bit tired. Nelson was great! A blast really. But I felt tired of travelling. I felt like going home. And she said I sounded a bit homesick. And you know what? I agree. I have been travelling for a month. On my own. And it is less than 2 weeks 'till I go home. I am homesick, i am entitled to be. (...) Oh, great, now they are playing CSN [Crosby Stills and Nash]. I miss Portugal just because it is time for misssing, it is time to go back. And I am going, soon.

Filipa

[ P.S. The "cold" described in this post was later found to be somewhere around -4/5ºC]

#14 - When the trip became a full-blown blast

Lilith's house, Nelson
Monday, Victoria Day
the 18th of May

Day 25

Oh, joy. Life is sweet and nice once you get to Nelson. I knew it! It has been quite great and I love staying with Lilith and Maia, her 17 year old daughter (my couchsurfing hosts). (...)

Vernon was good. Very worth it. After that stupendous beach I decided to keep going . After all, it was only noon. I went through pretty residential neighbourhoods around the lake. Some looked like regular summer houses, some like wealthy-show-off summer houses. (...) I kept on going by the side of the road up the mountain, finding extensive orchards (...) and a little park with a hidden beach. The water wasn't too cold. If I wasn't alone I would have jumped in. I got as far as Kalamalka National Park [ I still think it is a great name - Kalamalka, once you manage to pronounce it] but I decided it wouldn't be too wise to go hiking as I still had a couple of hours walk back. So I turned around, got very tired and appreciated the big hotel bed. Well, I got sunburned. Yes, I admitt it. Very sunburned in my left arm. Jeans and t-shirt are still too little (???). (...) The next day I packed my stuff up and was gone. I went to the bus depot a bit earlier and bought myself a head-set Greyhound-style. Ah, ah. Whatever. I got to hear music, at least , now that my headset is broken.

The trip was awesome. We went back to Kelwona and I stayed there waiting for 2 hours. Then !I! took the bus to Nelson. Not my luggage. That stayed behind. It had to happen, one of these days. Thankfully it arrived in Nelson the morning after, so it was no big deal. (...) We took highway 33 and got away from the Okanagan. Soon it was just dense forests of green pines with the occasional meadow and ranch around. After the mountains it became less picturesque, as we headed South. We passed thourgh Beaverdell. I thought I had seen the Faroeste [Portuguese word for Western North America cowboy-atmosphere ]. No, THIS was it. A couple of houses (plus the ranches around) along the highway. Quite literally in the middle of the forest. There was a "department store" with a 20'/30's sign on top. I saw a group of teenagers in a car. The "I will want to get drunk twice a day when I'm legal" type. I wonder: if someone pays me a lot of money, will I then even consider moving temporarily to a place like that? It was slightly surreal. We went further south. (...) We stopped in Rock Creek for a little while. That was also tiny. It had very weird looking people. Well, we stopped at the gas station, the biggest center in these places. They had in big letters an add saying they sold Fireworks. They had that in many of these small places. Interesting.

A couple more of these ghostly towns followed. Midway seemed the perfect setting for a Hitchcock murder case. Greenwood was the ultimate Western site. We stopped at the desolate Grand Forks, now well into highway 3. As many of these places, and a lot fo ranches along the way, it resembled an old car cemetry, with so many automibile junk parks on the side of the road. We had a "dinner stop" at A&W. Now I get why I've never been in those places. But I was hungry so I said: eat a "chubby chicken" burger (oh, originality...) and shut up. I went outside to get away from the "deep fried" smell. There I started talking with a guy named Shy/Sly/Sky, whathever it was. It started with my sandals, instead of my necklace. Good to have some variety in the way my attire gets interesting strangers to address me. He was amusician, played "wicked keyboards" and had been with his band accross Canada and Europe. he was particularly fond of Ireland.(...)

Next up: Christina lake. Very very pretty. I really loved it there, with the mountain landscape and the snow still lingering on the bottom of the trees. It was at about that time that I started talking to the guy in front of me. I think he had wanted to talk wih me for a while, but he got an excuse to ask me where I was going when I very obviously tried to figure out where I was on the map. He was going to Nelson, grew up over there. He worked in New West. and he was coming to visit his mother and brother. (...) He looked like Keanu Reeves but darker, skinnier and with the attire that I have noticed to be typical of boys of this region. Pseudo-gangster hip-hop inspired stuff. (...) He was nice and interesting (...) He told me about the logging business in the Kootenays how it was being reduced but it had still logged a lot of areas recently. He was quite emotional about it. After all, it was the forest he took for granted. While we talked we passed very beautiful lakes and breathtaking mountains around Castelgar. He also took it all for granted, having done the trip so many times. So I think he enjoyed my childish enthusiam (...).

After that ride we got to Nelson. Small but pretty (...) [Lilith and Maia and I] talked over a nice bowl of curry and then went to a place called "the cocoa-nut lounge". (...) I was half in love with this town of alternative people. The café had live music and an interesting group of 60's woodstock looking people.

The next day was a blast (...). We had breakfast on the local trendy place "Orso Negro": an amazing latte and muffin. We talked about Feminism and housework and I think I learned a lot from Lilith. Later, after lunch, Maia took me along to her friend's place, where she would be doing some henna tatoos on her back. (...) Her father was from Quebec ad her mother was from Czech Republic. I ended up getting a really lovely henna swan on my hand too! (...) i went downtown and then saw the lake, strolled around the beach and the park. Nelson is so much more interesting, even though it is smaller. With a car, I could stay here for a while. It was lovely.

At night we went to a local "rave party", but I will write about that later.

Filipa

#13 - "Perfection. Sucess. Mission Accomplished."

Kalamalka Lake beach, 1 hour walk from Vernon

Friday, the 15th May 09

Day 22

Perfection. Sucess. Mission Accomplished.

What lies before me is so perfect it almost seems unreal. The waters are perfectly blue, jeans' blue, and so calm, I could fall asleep by just listening to the waves. The sun is so bright it almost blinds me and there are perfectly set clouds around the edges of the sky, just like I like it. It is warm, but not too warm. Good for jeans and T-shirt. (...) And the mountains, so perfectly designed, crossed only by small roads here and there. And there are so little people around. [ an ink sketch of the scene follows]

A little bird just passed by. This was the beauty I was looking for, what people talked about. That's the thing with Vernon. As it is smaller than Kelowna, it is easier to get out. Also, in the hotel, the nice couple in the reception was extremely helpful expalining me how to get here.

I must say, yesterday I was very disappointed with Vernon. (...) Things were getting better in the last day in Kelowna. I discovered the beach and despite the loneliness, the wind, and even some rain, I enjoyed seeing the Okanagan and those dramatic hills. There was still some snow on one. When I came back to the hostel I soon found myself with 3 roomates, which was exactly what I needed. One was Australian and planned to travel in Canada for a year or so. She would stay in Kelowna for a week. Good luck with that! The other was a child-like German she had met on the bus from Vancouver. Played guitar, lent me her laptop to check my email, had a weird book that seemed to have Fátima's Virgin on the cover and had thaught kids in Mexico for a year before coming to Canada (not supposed to make sense here). The third was called Mélanie and was from Montreal. And so the french conversation started. I was surprised with myself because of the fluent (although with many grammar mistakes) conversation I was able to have with her. She had been doing some volunteer work with horses (her passion) in the South of the Okanagan and she was now supposed to meet someone.

The next morning she decided to head down to Vancouver, unable to reach her contact. We shared a taxi to the bus station, exchanged contacts. It was kind of great. And the bus trip was absolutley amazing. It was much greener than the arid hills around Penticton, and the lakes seemed to keep on going. Orchards around the road were in full bloom and even though it was rainy it all looked gloriously springuish. I absolutely loved it and got very uplifted. (...) I had learned my little lesson. (...) Vernon would be better.

When I got to the bus station, one thing at least was good: the hotel was only 2 blocks away. (...) The internet was free, the coffee was free in my room (and tea too!), it was right next to the city center and had cable TV!! If I'm gonna pay, I might as well enjoy it to the fullest. (...) [follows half a page of calculatiosn estimating how much I would save with all these complimentary stuff and a result making me feel a little better about the sudden slicing of my bank account] So I got myself all settled down (...) and headed for downtown Vernon.

If Kelowna looked like a Western, this felt like one. Vernon is not only tiny, but also ugly and uninteresting. They have a lot of murals, all about pioneers and stuff of that sort (ah! This is why it feels like being in a Western - this was what Wsterns were all about!!). The main street could be walked in just 5 min. To my surprise, Vernon had quite some homeless. (...) It seemed that, most likely out of boreddom, the young people of Vernon spent hours in front of the mirror putting on "ganster" or "skatter" clothes and practicing their walking style. It looked odd. And so did the many "piercing & tatoo" shops. (...)

And so I walked around and didn't find nothing of interest. Even the local cinema had nothing too good on. (...) I was thinking: why I am stuck in this god forsaken place? So I called home from the least damaged phone I could find - they like to kick them here - (...) I felt better after I talked to them.

Then I went into a very disorganised antique bookstore. They had records from the 60's/70's. So I looked around and wish I could buy them and carry them back. 10$ a Door's original: not bad at all. I would need a record player first though.

I walked back to the motel [which was actually what it was]. I noticed it was a very American motel. Like the ones people go to in the movies to have affairs or hide from the police. It had the balcony and stairs, just like those. As my mom said: an experience. (...)

Well, I watched a lot of TV last night and I headed out today with a smile on my face. I am starting to like Vernon. Well, I am leaving tomorrow. But as theysday in the song. "today is a good day".

Filipa

# 12 - The BIG Mistake

Starbucks, Kelowna
Wednesday, the 13th of May, 09

Day 20

This was defintely a bad idea. I mena the Penticton-Kelowna-Vernon thing. This is my last day in small boring horrible Kelowna. (...)

[In Penticton] I took a bus to Kelowna. This lovely little girl started to cry like apig being slaughtered! And the mother seemed to pretty much ignore it as a way to cope. My ears didn't cope so well. At that point I just myself - what is wrong with Canadian children? [ this was motivated by previous yelling sessions of children in public transport] Then, aftre a quite picturesque 1 and a half hour ride along the okanagan lake, we entered Kelowna. Malls, shops and a bus station ridiculously far away from the city center. Only way back: taxi (or 2 very dubious buses). Goobye 15 dollars! But at least I was at the hostel I was supposed to be at. i checked in, got indications about how to get downtown ( basically, accross the street) and I went to check it out.

It just seemed like a Western-movie village industrialized, it did. Kelowna is small as hell. I want to punch the person (who the hell was it???) tha told me it was a big city with loads to do. It isn't. There is a lot to do but not within walking distance!!! i have never felt this frustrated in my life because of not knowing how to drive. Oh, if I could drive: I would be out of this place!!

Kelowna is fullof sketchy looking characters and it doesn't feel half as pleasant as Penticton. The walk by the lake is pretty but not extraordinary. The Orchards and Wine museums are small room, empty of people, with closed doors, hard to even notice [yes I went there, to look at DDT packs from the 20's ]. The buildings all look and are from the 50's/60's, with veyr little charm, straight lines and dark bricks. Teenargers here all look like they get high 10 times a day or something and try to be cool very desperatly. It is small-town-syndrome. (...)

Yesterday was a really really bad day. I panicked at the fact that I was alone, bored and didn't know where I'd be staying in Vernon. i sent some 576 desperate couchsurfing requests. I don't think they will work. So I booked a hotel which will cost me a lot of money. On the bright side, I will have a TV. Vernon will probably be like Kelowna. surrounded by beautiful parks only acessible by car. Oh, supreme frustration! I called home like 2 times, missed everyone, missed people in Vancouver. Oh, dreadful. I stayed in my empty room (no one else checked in) and read most of the day. It kept me distracted. But, hey , cheer up!! After today is only 2 more days to Nelson, which seems very promising. And Banff is only one day. I don't think it can go very wrong. (...) I don't mind the long hours travelling. It is my favourite part. i love the landscape and it feels like I am actually seeing something. (...) It was quite arrogant of me, the 18 year old girl who can't drive, to think I could do this and it would all go smoothly. At least I got my books to entertain me.

But hey, Filipa! You're seeing Canada! The good and the bad! And, okay, you made some planning mistakes, but you couldn't have known the extent to which Canada is ****** up! (Yeah, swearing always makes it better, doesn't it?)

And hey, at leats I slept a lot! Great not having to think about school. And in about 2 weeks I'll be home! And is nothing to bad to read and take my time. Yesterday was just a bad day. Fair enough. It happens. (...) It will be just fine.
(...)

Filipa

P.S. When I booked the hostel in Vernon (by phone) I had to insit with the operator that I did not want the 20$ in gas or car rent 'cause I DIDN?T DRIVE. Apparently that is an alien concept to her.

#11 - Penticton, the quiet oasis

Sunday, the 10th of May
Penticton

Day 17

After wondering through the city (town/village) for 1 and 1/2 days I am in a fair position to make a shortish description. (...)
Penticton is a very small place (...). It has a large retired population, as can be deduced by the numerous facilites for veterans, for instance. The beach is quite incredible and it really looks like an oasis with the brownish mountains around. I quite like it, except for the lack of actual things to visit or see. In addition, people turn their heads and recognize you as an out-of-towner (...).
I keep going to strabucks and more Strabucks. It is an issue.

Filipa

#10 - Looking at the island from accross the mountains...

Saturday, the 9th of May
Penticton, sitting by the lake Okanagan
warm, sunny and perfect

Day 16

I arrived to Penticton about 1:00 h ago. And welcome to small town Canada. Quite small, not many people. But, standing by the lake with warm sun (finally!) I think I get "the charm" of the region. Like the two old ladies on the bus said "it's so quiet". And when you live in Vancouver you value that. The water looks really good. Tomorrow I should dip my feet into it. (...)

But I should make sure to have a record of the last couple of days. (...) Our second ride [from Nanaimo to Ucluelet] (hard to get) was a mother that liked listening to the Beatles and had a very messy car, and her teenage son. Very insightful trip to the road to Port Alberni. The guy was a typical American highschool student [even though he was Canadian]. "Surfer" looking hair and "cool" style. Plus he loved to say he was failing his classes , he picked up hookers and other very inappropriate comments in a deliberate defiant tone. (...)

Our third and almost instantaneous ride was Noah. (...) He worked with fishing boats. Not much to talk about since he din't enjoy travelling. The island had nice people, snowboarding and surf - why go anywhere else?? but Christian kept asking nice questions. He took us to port Alberni and, at that point, I strated realising the beauty of Vancouver Island. The lakes, the majestic trees. It looks like a fantasy movie! this was even more true of our ride from Port Alberni to Ucluelet. The lakes were amazing, even though it was pouring down. We decided to take this ride even though it didin't get us to Tofino. It was getting fairly late and raining a lot. (...) He was a retired logger who told us quite a bit about the industry, the environmental issues and the potential of the island. I liked it a lot and when he dropped us off at the hostel in Ucluelet I told Christian this was my best day in BC. (...) I discovered the joys of hitchhiking.

(...) On our dorm there was only this girl. An Irish ex-Dundee drop out (...) who was looking for a job to stay there for a while, currently travelling the world. Curious young woman. She told us about her crazy "European trip" on the back of a van with 3 very messy guys.
(...) The next morning we made the acquaintance of Peter, a retired veterinary professor, an Englishman bird-watching around. A German speaker and father of a Pearson UWC graduate, we soon bonded and got offered a ride to Victoria at noon. And so we forgot tofino and drove south. (...)

I am going to have to move. It's getting coldish .... continuing the entry in a Starbucks 15 min later (yes, it saves my homeless, tired and wondering self yet another time)
+ 2 teenagers are talking aboutboyfriends and highschool intrigues just behind me. Can this get any more small townish?

So, back to the Island. We ended up taking a trail that morning in Ucluelet, along the beach. (...). IT WAS GORGEOUS. My knee and legs hurted but I absolutely loved it! It had little beaches all over it, so hidden yet easy to walk into: a perfect trail. We even saw an eagle on the rocks (we had seen 2 bears the day before!) And the waves were loike an impressionistic painting. Thye seemed rough and windy. My style.

(...) Peter came to pick us up and started driving to Victoria. (...) He was quite interesting, had lived in a bunch of English-speaking countries and thaught for a year in Somalia. He had loads of interests including bird-watching and European History.in fact, he was an open book: dates, facts, cultures. He knew it all. He even spoke some Norwegian from a turbulent visit to Bergen when he was 18! He spoke many languages and could read another lot. At the moment he is an organic farmer here in the okanagan valley.
(...)
We stopped at a lake beofre Port Alberni to eat lunch. We also stopped at a little river shortly after. Then Grove Cathedral, a place with very veyr very tall trees. Finally at a place with First Nations engravings on rock next to a lake. Well the rock was in the lake. It didn't seem very looked after. We talked about so many things. he identified the paradox of female power in mediterranean societies. he told me about Native History and the USA invasions of Canada. He was pro-legalisation of all drugs, including opium. It was indeed a very cool drive.

We finally arrived in Victoria.(...) christian and I walked and asked for directions (or were offered rather...) to the nearby hostel (...) the we went ou to see Victoria (...) It was quite lovely, with the sunset and all. The buildings in the old town were charming and the Parliment is quite something. i liekd it, as we strolled around the harbour. (...) The problem was finidng somewhere to eat, at night. Things started to close and we eneded up in MacDonalds....yes, I did. (...) Once again, you need to adapt to the culture, so whathver. It wasn't pleasant. (...)

In the morning we had some breakfast at a "John's Palce", a very aweosme music-themed decorated restaurant. It also had the largets pancakes in the world!!! Very nice place but sure to cause obesity in the long run. (...) We caught a bus and a ferry back to Vanocuver. Such a beautiful trip with clear skies and it all looked so much like Norway that it automatically triggered some sentimental nostalgia. (....)

And so this morning I got to Penticton, about which I will write alter (...) i need to be patted on the head from time to time.

Filipa

#9 - 2 roads and some whales: Ucluelet

Thursday, the 7th of May
9:26 A.M., Ucluelet

Day 14

I am in a small hostel in a place just South of tofino called Ucluelet. This was where hitchhiking took us. And I love it! I seriously loved it yesterday. Not too comfortable. But so much fun! We got a ride from a guy in the ferry to a stop light 15k out of Nanaimo. He was very interesting and had Portuguese grandparents. His family lived currently in Quebec but he had been born in Brazil.

Filipa

Intermission:The Summer Fling Thing

"Come on! Have a summer Fling."

It's not the first time someone tells me this. It has been pherhaps the most direct way. The motivation behind such a suggestion, I will not try to uncover. Somehow some people that have crossed my path think that I should have " a summer fling". I should take every opportunity (walking in the beach, being in the city, camping out, etc) to meet young men, flirt and have some kind of "romantic escapade", or at least a few encounters under the portuguese sun.

Right.

I am just so tired of this pointless cliché. Soooooo tired. Summer, bikinis and torrid passion. Seriously?

I see things the other way around. Summer is for reflection. Is the time to get away from the body, to come back to that shapeless place called home. To leave the dark cold city and indulge in the leftovers of childhood.

In the summer I like to catch that plane. It is my purgatory, with the bitter taste of airline coffee. It is all about expectation, a deep breath. And, when I'm back, I'm saved. I'm alright. I can now start reflection. Yes, summer is for reflection. On my sins and mistakes. On blind impulses followed during the Winter. It is time to look out the window into the wheat fields and know rigth from wrong, to forgive myself for what I have done without even trying very hard to do so. Summer is for comtemplation. Of the self and of the world. To pull it together, cry and rise.

It is not a coincidence that it is during the summer that I have been most vulnerable to religious propaganda. As in, christian sects brain-washing me or just the old village fundamentalism having an effect on my brain. I am at the cross-road. I am exactly at the point where I can even listen to sermons, go to masses and the like, because they make some sense. I understand them. I choose another path, for sure. But still, I see why people go down those roads.

Summertime is the fall from the cold streets into the rice fields. It is time to read and write, to examine and decide. It is time to clarify the misery and glory of past actions. At my own pace, at my own time. The senses are put on hold. Nature takes care of them with the sun and the flowers. They make our bodies one with the earth. And we help them out by removing coats, by running with 0ur feet on the grass and fine layers of cloth wrapped around our skin. Our minds are free. Free to wonder. to rationaly, but warmly, wonder about ourselves.

Some songs only get some meaning like this.

Breathe, breathe in the air.

Don't be afraid to care.

Leave, don't leave me.

Look around and choose your own ground.

Long you live and high you fly

smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry

all you touch and all you see

Is all your life will ever be.

Run, rabbit run.

Dig that hole, forget the sun,

And when at last the work is done

Don't sit down it's time to dig another one.

For long you live and high you fly

But only if you ride the tide

And balanced on the biggest wave

You race towards an early grave.

(Pink Floyd- Breathe)

When you are done. When you are at peace, when you know what you have done. Cried about it, laughed about it, or simply forgot about it. Then, you can go back.


Now, where do you fit a "summer fling" here? Where do you fit the flirt-nervous thingy? Were do you fit care for your image, standards and conventions of social interaction with attractive strangers? And what about those strangers? Is it fair to dragg them into your private mess-sorting period? Why would you? How can you? How can you give up the magic of gazing at the sea for the annoyance of being gazed at by some guys? [Yes. "some guys". I do have faith in humanity, but don't ask me to think prince charming is waiting around the corner. ]

It disturbs me. This idea that during the summer we are supposed to be all into finding a match. That our energy in this priviledged season should be focused on "flings", pseudo-comitments of convenience and convention. That we should be interested in people because we see their arms, legs, and whatever else, more often. I get the thing with Spring. I do! The birds are singing, the sun is warm for the first time and tralalala... Nature is re-awakening. OK, get it. But summer? Really? This "summer-fling"-summer-teen thing is the most ridiculous socio-commercial construction ever. It almost beats St. Valentines and Christmas (those at least started with some religous component!).

A "summer fling"? Give me a break!

#8 -Around the city

Wednesday, the 6th of May
3:30 PM, ferryboat from Horseshoe Bay to nanaimo.

Day 13

(...) I write o on a ferry larger than the ones in Bergen at least 3 or 4 times. And it has a lot fo extra facilities like huge cafeteria, work stations and other stuff. Spoiled Canadians.

On Sunday I went to the inetrnet café and got to know Christian would be arriving in the evening. so I went back and checked-in at the hostel again. i had a nice roomate, a lady from Calgary whose 3 old child and husband would be arriving the next day. I told her pretty much the last year of my love/sentimental life. I like revealing my deepest anxieties to strangers, it seems. In the evening i met "Carlo" again. i went to see a movie (just felt like it) and when I came back he was smoking at the door. We started talking again and ended up with his laptop in the lounge. I had to listen to his songs and I gave what he described as "great detailed and articulate" feedback. (...) Totally trivial lyrics. No poetry, no style. [Didn't match his voice and instrumental]. So I felt it was my duttie to set this errant soul to the right path and introduce him to The Smiths. He was charmed by Morrisey immediately (who wouldn't be?) and loved the drumming and the lyrics. Hopefully he will get some inspiration. He invited me for a concert (...) but I had other plans.

(...) My friends were extremely kind and offered their place for me to stay at for as long as I needed. But I had plans, once again. I was n BC to travel, after all. (...) Problem was, when I started looking at actual bus tickets: they were expensive! (...) I decided i would need to book those tickets and do it fast [cheaper the more in advance you book them]. one lesson for the future: do not try to be spontaneous when travelling with public transport in huge, strange Canada. Eventually i figured out a trip, a way to see the main points of interest. (...)Some cities I picked even just a bit randomly - like "vernon". (...) Money well spent.

Another problem is: (...) I feel so lucky. So undeservedly lucky. (...)

(...) Yesterday we spent most of the day hiking around a mountain next to Chief mountain. I wasn't prepared for hiking and my legs were kiling me today. It was till very gorgous and reminded me a lot of Norway. It even had an inlet, which basically is a fjord. (...) And it rained a bit -perfect. But, this morning, I bougyht some good waterproof hiking shoes. no more golden Gate situations!
(...)

Filipa

#7 - Going up the country

Sunday, the 3rd of May, 2009

12:00PM, laundry room at the HI Hostel, Vancouver Central

Day 10

So I arrived in Vancouver safe and sound. Just to get chronological, here:

Last day in S.Franscisco

I decided to go and see a museum. Took off to Legion of Honour Palace. It was raining, quite a bit, and so I was happy Veronica took pictures of me in the morning rather than in the evening. Yeha, we took a picture of me on the rooftop with a flower pin in my hair - the flower pin that I got for free at that Indian shop in Haight-Ashbury. Glorious portraits. Anyhow, Legion of Honour was quite interesting. A good collection with a great range and a decent organisation. Curiosity: all info was in English exclusively. Significant? Overall. I wasn't incredibly impressed, but I guess I have a bad habit of visitng the best museums in the world so my standards are quite high. (What modesty Filipa. what modesty...) It was also quite empty, on a Friday! not many epople at all. Ended up being a relaxing factor (...)

The highlights:
-one painting, which i loved, was called something like "the broken vase". I forgot the name of the author. [ it is William Bouguereau and the painting is actually "The broken pitcher", see picture] (...) The way she looked and the broken pottery at her feet were just hypnotizing. The little text on the side said it was normally interpreted sexually as a "loss of inocense" and "hard bruttish country life" theme thing. I see it in a more holistic sense. Her look, like she was about to cry and stay strong at the same time, seemed to whisper "this is me, here I am". It was very intimate.

-There were also some great Monets and Pisarros. i saw the "Great Canal", the Monet I reproduced [ or tried to] 4 or 5 years ago. (...) I stared for a while.

After that I decided to go to Golden Gate Bridge. (...) It was pouring down, sort of foggy and very windy. Perfect drmatic setting for that red huge bridge. (...) Being there I thought I should walk the bridge. After all taht would be the "complete S.Francisco experience" thing to do. And so I went, defying the wind I strolled with some other brave tourists. Very exciting and liberating. But when I reached half the bridge I had to go back 'cause I was wet to the bone. My band-aids were falling off my blisters because of the water. (...)

[Back at Veronica's] I packed and ate our shared pasta. (...) In any case, I thought, it was time to leave. We said goobye and I headed down to Pier 39. When i was at the Ferry building I realised there was something worng with the cable-car times. they kept increasing on the monitor! So, in a little panic, I ran all the way to Pier 39 with my bagpack.I looked like a mad woman and felt my legs about to collapse. 15 minutes of insane runing in a San Francisco night with 30 kilos on my back. How glamorous. I got there 10 min in advance though! And the bus was late more 5 minutes! Seriously... But I met a guy also waiting for the bus. He looked familiar and soon we realised he had been seating behind me on the train south. His name was Ryan and he looked like a bearded laid-back type.

So, me and Ryan started talking. He was 23 and lived in Sacramento. His current occupations: working in a bar, looking for fun things to do, riding his bike. And, when he went somewhere, 2 things were certain. He would be a) drinking a lot b)smoking a lot of pot. His visit to San Francisco had been a sort of "out of an impulse thing" and the only thing he regreted was not having dropped some acid. (Just for the record, marijuana, although illegal is osrt of a common thing in the stated. at least I got that impression. (...)) Meanwhile, Ryan went to smoke another joint and the train arrived. It was late and I was tired. I got my music goign and tried to sleep but Ryan came up and we talked all the way to Sacramento. I talked. he mumbled. People getting high - stops being cool when they stop being able to have a decnet conversation [but still want to have one!]. Also, when talking about how rough travelling alone is, he told me I had it worse "being a lady and all". No comments. When he got off at Sacramento I said bye and went to sleep.

The train north

At 5:30 AM of the next day I wake up in Dunsmuir, California with someone shouting "Derailment!". A freight train had derailed ahead. We were stuck. At first I panicked abit. But then I just enjoyed the warm train seat, read and knitted. (...) It took 9 hours for buses to arrive from Sacramento and load all passengers. Next stop. Eugene, Oregon. But the ride was beautiful through Northern California and Oregon. We saw so many things. From dry hills in California to the beautiful green valleys of Oregon. Along highway 5. I saw little towns with only one mainstreet. I saw trailer parks and the poeple living in them. i saw churches advertising their services like butter and I saw baseball games with parents cheering! I saw native reservations that were "Hotel and Casino Resorts" and even saw an Amish couple that was on board of the train ( at first i thought they were dressed in a costume). I saw America. In Seattle we boarded a bus to Vancouver. This old lady was going too. She had been to Portugal many times as a tour guide and it was lovely to tlak to her. She had such a beautiful white hair. White like snow. (...)

Vancouver

I arrived at the Pacific Central at 5 AM. What was I going to do in Vancouver that early? (...) I took a cab to the hostel (...) enjoyed 3 hours of sleep and breakfast and a shower. I got to do laundry and now have everything washed and dry in my bag. While i was at the laundry room I met this guy named Carlo who wrote the message that is some pages back on this book. [a poem about us "meeting" and "speaking of siliness, do you remember?" and apparently he noticed "I wore my hair long, down past your shoulder" and, finally, apparently "It didn't take long to fall in ---" , it literally ends with a line there and a phone number down]. He was a slightly sleazy italian musician from Toronto. He thought I was very friendly and had 2 tatoos clearly designed to impress. He invited me to his room, to hear him play guitar. .. Rigth pall, nice try (he looked well over 30). Yep, I have been meeting some characters I guess...

Filipa

#6 - Law and Order

Dolores Park café, S.F.
The 1st of May, 06
8:00AM

Day 8

Just to continue yesterday's writing: what are the funniest laws/signs I have seen around?

- on the trains, in San Francisco (subway), a sign saying it was forbidden for people younger than 18 to have in their possession spray, cans or markers thicker than half an inch. What happened to "do not deface"?

- The alchool restriction in parks. in Portland, in the "park blocks" you can't have a beer!

(...) I don't miss people. Yesterday i wrote emails and the like. It was funny because I didn't miss them (not in the " I wish you were here so badly I am goign to strat crying and have a knot on my throat for an entire day" way). I feel self-suficient, content, solving practical problems and, i sort of like it.

Filipa

#5 - you should wear some flowers in your hair

San Francisco, 30/04/09
Bakery accross from "The Vesuvio", North Beach
Day 7

I really like San Francisco! And I am actually enjoying myself on my own. too bed for that pessimistic beggining.

Tuesday things were not goign so weel: stuck in the most uninteresting part of the city. But then I met my host, Veronica. And she was nice and talkative and so helpful. Her neighbourhood (Mission dolores) is beautiful and she lives in a Victorian apartment. (...) We went to an Indian restaurant for dinner and she showed me around the Castro, near her place. Nice neighbourhood. (...). But really "gay-male-porn" culture... jusging by the composition and beahviour of the crowds and the windows of local shops and businesses. (...)

Yesterday didn't start very well either. I got all excited and, after breakfast, went straight to Haight-Ashbury (note of editor: the center of all 60's counter culture in the city and my favourite intersection for 8 years). AT 9 AM. Not much activity, empty streets and a couple of people asking for change and looking unpleasant. I saw Janis Joplin's place but it didn't have any sign or mark. So i sadly headed to golden Gate park. The "hippie hill" which I recognised from old black-and-white pictures was inhabited by a handful of homeless people. Later i got to know, it only gets properly "hippish" on weekends. At the time i was just disappointed. I dealt with it: the sixties were 40 years ago, the 80's did a lot of damage and I had to just face it. I was looking for something that was gone.OK.

But Golden Gate Park didn't help. it was exhasperating. It was long and there was no one around exept for the boring touristy spots. so I walked and I cried and I got lost and I got so desperate and regreted doing thsi on my own. A couple of hours of mental ranting followed.

Anyhow I decided to go to the beach. I grossly underestimated the lenght of the park and ended up walking for 2 hours or so. (...) i finally saw the Ocean but I was tired and a bit scared. I didn't know what to do in that empty residential street. so I took a bus. ok, it was the wrong direction, but I got off and got on the right one some seconds later. I think that bus was a statement. Yes I can.

(...) I got to fillmore. Iw as hungry and so I grabbed my first burrito. Apparently they were invented over here. I then walked down Fillmore, passed a sign that said " Harlem of the West Jazz District". A couple of meters later I got it: this was a "black"neighbourhood - everyone was African-American. it was poorer and sketchier than the other areas of town I had seen. and it confirmed in my mind that "racial integration" ( it sounds 50's like, but I can't think of another way), in the USA,is far from comlete. Africans and Europeans are the oldest non-native emigrant groups in thsi country. Yet they fail to compare in terms of living standards. And here in America i think there is a lot of that idea that if people didn't mange it was thier fault. (...) that is a flase meritocracy based on a fake liberal framework. Inequality has a reason.

(...) I saw Alamo Square and the Painted Ladies. it started goign very well then. i kept on goign and hit lower Haight. (...) then I explored haight-Ashbury properly, by day. i went into this indian shop and bought a beautiful blouse. there were so many interesting people there and I loved it. Then the people asking for money were nice and called it "change" and i smilled and they smilled back. They seem to be the friedly homeless of San Francisco. I went into a cofee shop with people having tea with a pained acordeon on the table.
(...)

I headed for Chinatown today. It was quite an experience. it was very chinese. And I liked it. A lot of things that I never seen on the shops - like dried /seemingly salted squids. And I went on a bus crowed with exclusively Chinese people - the realistic "China experience"? (...) Saw lombard Street - which seems a joke! - And went to City Lights - the beatnik bookstore. It was magic. it was also next to the Vesuvio (Jack Kerouac's favourite café and symbol of the beat generation). Which i couldn't get into because I was not 21. FML, Filipa , that's me.

oh people arounf this park I am sitting now in look great. Like 60's San Franciscans.

(...) i went on the acble cars a lot today. Love them! it seems there are little rules for them. You can just hang there.

Filipa

#4 - "if you're going to san Francisco"

San Francisco, 28/04/09
Random Strabucks in Downtown SF
4:00PM

Day5

So, I arrived this morning to San Francisco and I have been going around the downtown area with my heavy bagpack. I had to stop because, although I am only meeting Veronica, my host, in one hour, my shoulders hurt badly from carrying the weight and I can barely feel my legs. Yes, lovely first day in San Francisco... Not quite as glamorous as predicted.

The last day in Portland was quite lovely. I went with Conny and the dogs to Mt. Tabor Park. An old Volcano on the east part of the city. (...) I got to know that Portland is not such an "integrated" city racially as I had been told. Inequalities and likeliness of police brutality make part of the difference. I was told some people don't have health insurance, many were now fired and the situation is getting more and more complicated. We drove through old town and saw many many homeless people. I am getting more and more shocked. San Francisco isn't any better. It just has really touristic areas. I still need to find more about things here.

(...) the train was interesting (Portland - S.F.). The trip itself was beautiful. I got to see the Cascade Mountains, with snow and fog, and then wake up in the sunny fields of California. First person. This boy, whose name I didn't get to know. Red hair and black t-shirt. (...) the conductor thought we were together and hence our little (and very promising) chat all the way to the coach. (...) But then he was assigned a seat somewhere else. I was told later that they try to assign females with females, males with males.

1- slightly discriminatory
2- slightly old-fashioned
3- completely preventing "Before Sunrise" situations!!!

I sat next to a lady called Jena, from Eugene. She told me such nice things about the city, that I wished I had bought the stop there! She told me about her life and her daughter who got so wise just living on her own. She told me about Colorado. I should see Golden and Bolder. She told me about trips in her youth and I started to realize that John was right. Americans do move much more than Europeans. She got off at Eugene. I remember her big blue eyes. She was once very beautiful.

Then I met Lucinda and Jonathan. Lucinda was the old lady sitting accross the aile, with the pink blanket. She came all the way with me to Emeryville. One of the few. The train was almost empty by that time. When we arrived in California she started pointing out things to me and telling the story and history of the San Francisco Bay area. She was really lovely and told me about her children and how she raised them on her own. Her daughter went to Reed and Yale and her son loves to travel. She was quite proud and I thought she had every reason to be.

Jonathan was this strange speeded up guy from Tasmania. Ok, living in Tasmania, but American. Travelled a lot. (...) He was always drinking energy drinks, hanging around with slightly drunk people and looking at my knitting. He noticed all the little things I did. Like touching my earing or my nose. Annoying. Talked a lot but did not like him much. Too much of a joking/not funny type.

(...) I have seen Pier 39 and the downtonw area of the Finantial district and Civic Center. I took the little cable car. But I got off a couple of stops before Civic Center by mistake. It was scary. it was this bad part of market street that had so many homeless people and "porn-shop" type of places... I rushed back. Maybe I shouldn't be afraid. But I am, and part of it is also because I do not know how to deal emotionally with this. I don't know how to react to what seems to be the "normality" of American cities. There is a lot of urban poverty in this country, more than at home, where I already thought it was bad. ( ...)

interesting things about Sf so far:
- I saw Alcatraz. It looks like a hospital and people pay 26 dollars to go there. not interested.

- I also saw the Sea Lions at Pier 39 in the morning, when the place was empty and it was just me and them.

- The cable-cars are awesome recreations (or originals??) of old SF one and also one from Milano.

- nothing 60's 'till now. Nor victorian houses. Hoping for that tomorrow.

-Golden Gate amd Bay bridge are beautiful. it is really sunny and the views are great. it is cold, but I am surviving.

Filipa