…in random order. mmm she made awkward attempts at cooking. which, considering what you might know about her cooking history…sounds either shrug-worthy or downright impressive. okay, i made spaghetti. i made one or two omelettes. mamaliga. (cu branza, duh. because i found this supermarche where they had bulgarian feta and where i heard incidental romanian spoken by the staff. still don’t know whether i’m excited or pissed about that. my guess would be excited…). (and right now i’m about to use this kitchen for the last time so i’ll do a mushroom-stew-y thing…luckily my current roommate wants nothing to do with it and went to sleep. i did mention he’s smart, yes?)
(update: it’s not bad. too sour, no idea why. but definitely edible. it probably looks better than it tastes. still, it was fun to make, and for someone who doesn’t cook, are you kidding me?!)
…she also made a quite extensive list of all the stuff she needs, during long windowshopping hours on mont-royal and at the unfortunate eaton center. such as (for fun): pair of flat shoes for spring; nice looking casual dress or skirt for „potential dressy” occasions i.e. interviews; blue FaFa bag on sales (i would lie if i said that’s a must); yves rocher eau de toilette and body lotion and everything; bathrobe; umbrella (there are transparent ones!! the question is – cheap transparent, or serious transparent?); hat; couple of pairs of leggings; etc etc. definitely a mug: the personal mug signifies settling. („settling” = obnoxious word of the past 2 weeks.)
…she went to another workshop on ‘how to get a job’ – more serious, less fun, more filled with downtrodden people with bad accents in english but who probably speak french better than herself. (uh, talking about settling: A JOB is what signifies settling. just sayin.)
…she also went…to the movies…and saw ‘sherlock holmes’ in french. no i did not know it was going to be in french when i went. also the movie room/hall/how-do-you-call-it was empty. empty. it was monday night, no idea if it makes a difference.
…she also went to a music thing. an experimental music evening thrown together by a bunch of people who are handy with that stuff. making noises as an art. it was a good night except i had a nasty…probably cold. the whole thing happened at „le cagibi”, which is a nice little bar/place on st laurent. they sell food as well…they have a front and a back room. in the front one there are a couple of fancy armchairs by the windows. i can see myself there, being all artsy- ‘aux anges’-like, for those who know ‘aux anges’: that’s what ‘le cagibi’ resembles best.
there were long walks, sudden streets and seagulls. there were seagull yelps in the morning, before the sky turns white. the first time i woke up to hear them i laughed alone in bed at 5 a.m. because those kinds of moments were what i was afraid i’d miss if i left vancouver. of course it’s not the same, but as an idea, as the shadow of a proof that i’m not defeated, i still have the seagulls. and then i have the names of intersections, that i learned as a tourist and then i forgot and now they come in handy: from a summery and careless place, here’s duluth&berri, here’s st. laurent&rachel, parc& st. viateur. here’s old jacques cartier, where i ate poutine on a terrace, st paul close to my history museum round. on mt royal and st denis, here are the shops i used to want to remember. and now i’m here, and why the hell should i want to be somewhere else?
people who don’t know the small things about carmen: her stubbornesses, which build up second by second, dumbly and blindly, are supported on the small things; on the seconds you left her out of sight. it could have been some other place than montreal. but now it’s montreal. who made the decision, it’s up to who tells the story or why.
haha, kidding. i made it.