far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Thursday, August 17, 2006

Well. Montréal.

The drive up: easy, the highway stretching out ahead through green Vermont countryside, the blue August sky studded liberally with fair weather clouds. Likewise for the border crossing -- a breeze. As it should be, me being no threat to anyone. The only difference this trip: U.S. customs agents stopped me before the crossing into Québec, the first time that's ever happened. No big deal -- a little Q&A as the agent eyeballed my passport before waving me through. Lines at the booths on the Canadian side were short, Q&A passed quickly, the agent waved me on.

I once heard someone call the stretch of Québec between Montréal and Vermont ugly. I don't agree. Big, broad skies, farmland stretching away in all directions, dramatic clouds/light. I like it. And I like seeing the change in languages, the French signage, the voices on the Quebecois radio stations. On the other hand, it's been many years since I've experienced the kind of mind-bogglingly intense aroma of ripe cow poop that I experienced today. Seemed to go on for miles and miles, didn't matter if the windows were open or closed. Brought up childhood memories of visiting my mother's relatives -- farm folk, all of them -- out in the middle of nowhere in upstate N.Y., not far from Oswego. Towns like Mexico, Pulaski, Parish, Fernwood. Visits that featured time spent on big farming spreads, the bouquet of well-aged manure a regular feature.

Found my way into Montreal, found the B&B in painless fashion. Parking was not the breeze it was a year ago, the mother/daughter team at the B&B responded by providing an off-street spot, making me very happy. The big hitch: my room? Right off the dining room, with workers toiling away right outside its one window, rehabbing the rear of the building. According to the proprietor, they show up around 7 a.m., get to work shortly after -- news that had me flashing back to last autumn's nightmare in Madrid. The big gift: she offered me the use of a studio apt. two blocks down the street for the night, I went and took a look. On the 23rd floor, with a breeze, view, light, bathroom, kitchen. Ran back, accepted the offer (I'd have had to be crazy not to), hauled my bags down the street through strong August sunshine, me streaming sweat. Made the 23 floor elevator ride (well, 22 floors, this building having no 13th floor), dragged ass into the flat where I ripped clothes off, took a shower, sat down on bed and wrote for a while, breeze and sunlight pouring through open windows, the city spread out below.





When I pulled my laptop from its carrying case, a spider popped out with it -- walking unsteadily, all eight little legs shaky after a drastic, unplanned relocation from Vermont to Canada. I ushered it to the window, left it on the sill outside to begin the adjustment to life north of the border.


[continued in next entry]


España, te echo de menos.

rws 4:55 PM [+]

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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
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October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
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June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
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May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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