…and the wind blows…

aprilie 5, 2010

so i moved on good friday – i might have mentioned about a dozen times before that indeed i spoke french to my taxi driver. yes i did. i felt accomplished. i also confirmed to current neighbours that „oui, c’est un demenagement”. i had the place to myself all afternoon/evening cause cynthia was at her bf’s, so i unpacked with my music on. sunny, one of the nicest warmest possible early april days that i’ve ever seen. the light pooling into my room. the room is SOO small. my books are on the floor, my papers in one of those multipurpose plastic drawers…clothes on hangers…that’s it. for finishing touches: my personal knife and bottle opener are in the kitchen drawer; i started burning my wax candle (previous tennant was a heavy smoker :)); mmm i tested the sofa. there were church bells ringing, and then in the morning there were cocks crowing and birds trilling.(to this day we haven’t broken the celebration liquor because we don’t have coffee yet. lame, i know.)

yesterday. i did the proper wannabe thing and went walking along mont-royal in the morning. complete with necessary sunglasses, and the jacket on my arm because it was too warm. two girls painting their toenails on a porch. the thrift store across the street aglow with a fully decked christmas tree by the front door, shiny garlands and all. i was smiling dumbly at everything. a little boy walking with his bike between his legs (i told his mum „this is how i ride a bike too” and she laughed – see what i mean?). dog-walking people. boutiques. shoe sales at ‘yellow’. epiceries with strawberry boxes at 99c. i bought coffee and a croissant and ate them in a parklet, on a bench next to a group of very old guys playing cards.

then after noon i went grocery shopping with cynthia so she could show me the neighbourhood stores, and we bought stuff to make salads. stop rolling your eyes, i am pretty proud of „us”. so we sort-of-cooked and talked like crazy for a number of hours. and we ended up calling cyn’s bird leonard. [all your/our previous references come in handy at this point. bird on a wire/parc du portugal/ letter to leonard cohen/it’s 4 in the morning/ remember me? i brought your groceries in….etc.] he (l’oiseau, not l. cohen), altough he’s really really shy, after numerous attempts and cajoling, perched on my finger for like 2 seconds. i know, i’m smug:). then in the evening cyn+me walked a bit along mt-royal then st laurent, all dressed up. i put a long skirt on, because it was windy. and my heels – ouch. (i have a minor blister, but i seriously need flat spring shoes) and we ended up in a bar for a bit, just „visiting” cyn’s bf and his friend. that was about it : home by midnight, and i sneaked onto the balcony to light a candle and sing „christos a inviat” in a very tiny voice.

after that, until about 3.30 when i finally fell asleep…the wind blew. i listened to it, wrapped in my blanket, in the otherwise peace and quiet of my little place. it was unlike any nighttime wind i’d heard before, breaking on the walls, over the interior yard, strong, furious, rough, musical, pause and start again. the balcony door whinged open. the semi-opened window in the livingroom hissed. so close and exposed. i went to shut everything off, and back to listen. i assumed this can’t be a singular occurence. i thought „i’ll have to learn to sleep through this kind of wind.” – then immediately „i’ll have to learn to love this”. which is so wonderfully paradoxical that it startled me awake even more. how do you reconcile getting used/taking for granted…with ‘growing to love’. i used to think of love as continuous awakenness, and maybe that was the problem…too much drama, as various people who know me can testify.

so the wind did its thing, and i heard it, was duly impressed, managed to make it all about myself, then i fell asleep. happy easter everyone.


what else carmen did last month

aprilie 2, 2010

…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.