Life gets oh-so-normal, oh-so-quickly..

Now. where were we.....

a standard evening spent lounging at The Nunnery

Ah yes, the days are getting shorter and colder with summer disappearing oh so quietly, and thanks to a bedroom shared with / heated by 9 other bodies, this fact was easy to escape, for a little while at least. My days were a mix&match of different elements, usually starting with me stumbling out of bed at 9:45 to get the only-till-10am free breakie. Next, a long sitting-chatting-drinking-tea session, then an extended getting-clean-and-dressed phase, mixed in with a distraction or two of some kind: facebook? ukulele? laundry? reading? Then it's probably lunchtime already... 2 hours later I'd emerge from the hostel, ready to face the world. I'd head to the library to work on my CV or hand out a few resumes, then suddenly it's already 5pm - time to start thinking about making dinner, preferably before the kitchen-rush around 6.30 or 7. Dinner would be followed by a night of poker? beer? tea in the kitchen? wandering up and down Brunswick St? Music improv in room 20? Finally, I'd go to bed, usually later than I'd hoped as I'd spent at least an hour wandering around the hostel chitchatting with diff people, unable to tear myself away from the stimulating company of others. I'd get out of bed late the next day, rinse, and repeat.

Our housewarming party; yes. that's beer pong. Chrissy's at the front, Carly's at the back

After about 6 weeks of this odd routine, I finally got an apartment and a job!! I got the apartment first; not the usual order of things, but ah well - needs must. Sometimes you have to seize opportunities as they come to you and worry about the details later. So now I live in a lovely share house with three other girls: Kayla - whom I met in Byron Bay back in September, Carly - an energetic and outgoing American gal, and Chrissy- a modest, funny Kiwi who works as a nurse at the local hospital. They're FABULOUS and I love them ever so much. Moving in, tho exciting, was also a bit saddening as I had made some great friends at The Nunnery, the hostel I'd been living in. Then I reminded myself that The Nunnery is about 5 mins away from my new place; Yay!!

Being in my new place that first night, in my first ever OWN apartment and OWN room was a very odd feeling. It was so.. quiet. I had space to think, to stretch out in all respects, and that felt very very good. I don't really have any furniture - save a bed&bedframe donated by an aussie friend whose family lives out of town, and a lamp I bought at IKEA, but it doesn't matter one lick! I've already committed a few housemate faux-pas; situations where i've displayed a shocking lack of awareness of those living with me, but I'm learning real quick. Noisy poker game in the backyard till 1am, just under my flatmate's window? when she has to work early the next day? Probably not a good idea. Derrr.

The front counter of yumminess at my new workplace

After the singular most frustrating job hunt of my life to date, I got a job! A selective job hunt was proving unfruitful, I needed to cast a much wider net. I resorted to handing out resumes on Lygon Street - a 6 block strip renowned for it's absurdly high concentration of family owned italian restaurants. A 10 minute walk down this street is either hilarious or annoying depending on your mood; big, old italian men planted about every 2m along the sidewalk lay the charm on thick as they attempt to lure you into their particular pasta and pizza eatery. This strip is also renowned for high staff turnover and employment of (read: exploitation of) backpackers. CV in hand, dressed all in black, I tried to convince any one of these people that YES I had waiting experience and NO I'm not leaving melbourne any time soon. *cough cough*. 4 days and one restaurant trial-shift later, I landed a job at an authentic french charcuterie owned and operated by a french man and his aussie-of-french-descent wife. (THANK YOU french-speaking-ability!!!) The pay is good for the work, and it's 4 days a week which gives me plenty of time for ukulele playing, blog writing, and a desperate attempt to get back into shape...

I was somewhat uneasy at first in thuis new job; the owner is a bit of a character. Her bluff manner initially intimidated me, but then quickly grew on me. Though always first and foremost our boss, she clearly sees the 6 of us who comprise her staff as "her girls" - asking about our love lives, trying to set us up with delivery boys, giving us food to take home at the end of every shift. And because we are a small staff we are quickly given responsibility: 4 days in, I had a key, the safe code, and was closing alone! I speak more french in an average day at work here than I do in Montreal, which is a good thing. Also, I am finally doing my French heritage proud by learning the difference between brie and camembert. The temptation to not continually snack alllll day on cheese, bread, and terrine is almost too much to handle. All in all, the job is great, and to top it all off, it's only a 5 minute walk from my apartment along Lygon. Well. 10 minutes if it's around dinner time.

Friends and more friends! L: Grant and Kayla in the living room, C: Rich and Jenny in my kitchen, R: Halifax friend Rob with other new friends at Trivia Night at the Royal Darby (where Kayla works.)

And thus is my life at the moment; living and working in a cute area called Carlton that is wedged between hipster-town and the university ghetto, in my all-black uniform for work AND play. I spend my days peddling paté and comté to melbourne's foodie community, and my evenings biking or jogging, trying out new soup recipes, and hanging out with my flatmates - aka doing normal things (how very unbackpacker of me.) I do, however, happily reunite with my backpacker buds from the nunnery and the arts factory on a regular basis, and even random friends from canada; keeping my toe in the water so to speak. And I manage to throw in the occasional new experience, like my first Aussie Rules Footie game...

Yup. Life is good.

2 blocks from my place, Melbourne at night...

Melbourne Beginnings

So, finally my blog catches up with me. Here I am, in Melbourne! Almost a year after I came the first time, when I discovered how much I like this city, this place so much like Montreal and yet not Montreal (definitely not 30 below at any rate.) This city of art/design/culture, ultra ultra hipsters, and mild weather. This is going to be the boring part of my adventure. Well.. exciting to me, but boring to you perhaps because I won't be moving around anymore for yet another big chunk of time. I'm basically here to try out real life. Actually, I reckon this will make my blog more interesting.
Yes, I DID just say I Reckon.

The sad truth is I need to work and save up cash. In other words, I unfortunately spent in Byron all the money I saved in Byron. Crud. On the upside, I now have one more thing to check off my list of typical-backpacker-experiences-to-have-in-oz: being terribly broke and desperate for employment!

First things first. When Tamar left, I stayed at "The Nunnery", a lovely homey hostel in Fitzroy (aka, Melbourne's Plateau Mont Royal...) Room 20 -- a ten share dorm with 5 sets of bunk beds, a dresser, a few narrow closets, and two couches in the middle -- was to become my new home. I couldn't have hoped for better roommates; mostly travelers like me who had just arrived to settle in Melbourne. These people, little did I know at that moment, were to become good friends of mine in the weeks following. Maybe even years following: who knows!

Top - Room 20, Below - some of Melbourne peeps, St Paddys day.

I was intent on starting my job and apartment hunt right away.. and... of course I procrastinated. Like MAD. But this was more than just normal job-hunt-avoidance. This procrastination was being fueled by EVERYONE at the hostel bemoaning the impossibility of finding a job and home due to 1) the fact that our arrival coincided with the beginning of the uni semester, 2) the global economic crisis, and 3) being a short term backpacker on top of it all. Who wants a housemate/employee who will leave in 2 months when they can have one for a full year?

Living in a hostel again didn't help either. The temptation to go out drinking every night proved irresistible, and I would up a few pounds heavier while my wallet got a few pounds lighter. That said, I had some really memorable nights! About a week into my time here we had a long music and beer fueled night with a few guitars, my uke, and lovely talented musicians and voices all around. The next few days as everyone recalled how fun that night had been, I recalled with a touch of sadness how fun and spontaneously musical just about every night in byron had been.

Music Nite! Chris, Corrine and Dee

(Ok, so I still missed Byron. Achem, still miss Byron. The feeling will subdue a bit over time, but I suspect it will never ever go away completely. It's like missing Saturday mornings as a kid. Or high school crushes. You know you can't relive these joys, can't actually revisit them, if you do it will be like going back to your high school as an adult - everything seems small, a bit cold, and a bit dirty and smelly.. But you can go there in your mind when you need to access that pure, naive joy you felt at the time. )

Having drinks with Madi and Kayla outside Black Cat

I spent scattered days pounding the Melbourne pavement, handing out resumes in shops, cafes & restos, lying through my teeth the whole time about my experience, my intended stay, etc. Job and house hunting became quite discouraging quite quickly! And then, on the cusp of reassessing my plan out of desperation, I was delivered a wonderful gift from Kayla; a new home in a lovely apartment with fabulous housemates just across the park from the hostel; exactly where I wanted to live. Though still unemployed, this was enough to keep me going, just enough of a taste of the months to come to revive my motivation. The next few months in Melbourne stared to take shape in my minds eye, and I found myself excited again.

thank god.

Grant, Rose, and my housemate Chrissy in the kitchen of my new home!

Just the Two of Us

After a frantic fun filled weekend in Sydney spent staying in Manly with Tamar's friend Ben, Tamar and I picked up our new home, AKA, the hippy camper, ready to leave Sydney in our dust. (thank god. Sorry, Sydney.)


We made our way out of the city late at night, it haven taken us the ENTIRE day to pick up the camper, repack all our crap, pack up the van (amazing how much we crammed in there) and then go! And of corse it started raining the moment we left. 2 hours later we were passing by Woolongong, driving through the most intense fog I have ever seen in my life, having already had a few near-death experiences, including hydro-planing on our way out of sydney.

In other words, our roadtrip was off to a perfect start!



The following days were a mishmash of small towns, rolling hills and picturesque farmland, lovely Australian scenery framed consistently by our car windshield, and one unusual 'free' overnight spot after another. We made an effort to mix it up; night number one was spent outside a random suburban home, number two saw us high up on a hill surrounded by green hills beyond which lay a stunning seaside view at sunrise. Three was a legitimately free campsite along 90mile beach (disappointingly, it was cold and rainy.) One night saw us camped JUST off chapel street; one of the main night-time streets in Melbourne. A few nights just beside the St Kilda botanical gardens... We only paid to sleep ONCE, and even that was only because our fridge battery needed recharging.


The best part of this 10 days was easily traveling with Tamar, my fabulous Scottish friend from the Arts Factory. I've never had a travel buddy with whom I was always so much on the same wavelength! It was an ease and a pleasure. Mostly.. as we were driving out of Sydney, she informed me of her infamous passenger-seat-nerves. ("Claire! The sign says 40km/h around the turn!! not 60!!" "Arent we going a bit fast?" "SLOW DOWN!" not to mention how her body would transform as we overtook other cars) (heheeeee you know i love ya tamar!!!!)



Something else from this roadtrip I'm sure never to forget: fire-ravaged Victoria. Before leaving Sydney, I was struck by the unfolding drama of news stories about the fires, fires which were spreading like.. well.. you know. The death toll, plastered across newsstands country-wide, climbed shockingly each day. But it was all so abstract; exactly what such a disaster would look and feel like was an elusive concept to me... until we passed through the small town of Yarram, a few hours out of Melbourne. Tamar and I had seen plenty of charred trees, apparently a fire-prevention strategy. But these trees, fields, bushes and grass had clearly been recently consumed by fire. If there was any doubt in our minds, the heavy smell of burning on the air was the answer... and then clouds of smoke coming off nearby forest... smoldering ground beside the road.... Five minutes of roadside exploration resulted in soot-blackened feet and shoes, and a smell of campfire in our hair and clothes that lingered for hours. Clearly the image will linger much longer in my mind.

We briefly passed through Melbourne on our way to the great ocean road, which is a very well marked touristic drive along, literally ALONG, the southern coast just west of melbourne. Stunning views. Koalas. The "12 Apostles." all that touristy stuff. We concluded our adventure with a week or so in Melbourne, hanging out, being bums, being backpackers, not really exploring Melbourne outside Fitzroy and St Kilda! Spent a few nights in the camper - including one very memorable one at the espy with John Bear, aka sexy bear, that American from Seattle who we all know and love. A few nights couch surfing, a few nights at my fave Melbourne hostel "The Nunnery." Saw Tamar off, back to Byron Bay, with a promise of a visit over bluesfest, and then that was that!



And so began the new, completely different part of my Australia trip.

More Pics....
Just the 2 of Us, Part One
Just the 2 of Us, Part Two

Shadow Jumping

Hmm, now where were we?

Oh yes, 4 shell-shocked girls hurtling down the highway, byron in our wake, the beautiful byron shire landscapes passing us by, with Sydney as our final destination. We eventually took out the maps and guidebooks and very roughly planned our voyage to take us along the coastal route, stopping/sleeping at whatever beaches struck our fancy along the way. We decided to avoid cities, stopping only in places small enough to call themselves towns. Other than beaches and towns, our only real stops were petrol stations (gas, snacks, water, and bathrooms....) and supermarkets.

I can't speak for the others, but I know i personally spent these first few days ungluing my mind from byron. My body may have been in that car, but my mind was miles and miles away, still firmly planted In Byron, amongst all the friends and places I had come to truly love. By the time we got to sydney, I had myself reassembled into something mostly like one piece. I was more or less ready to move forward, and it seemed the blue mountains were our next stop.

They were stunning. I can honestly say by now that the best things to see in Australia is pure, unadulterated nature. We stayed at the YHA in Katoomba, a sweet, tiny mountain town full of cafes, 'adventure' equipment stores, and art deco architecture. Our hostel couldn't have been any less like the Factory; dead quiet almost all the time, half empty at that, the guests more focused on planning exhuasting hikes rather than thinking about what they're gonna get from the bakery at 2am that particular night (spinach and ricotta slice, or asperagus+corn+cheese pie? tough call...) The sights were amazing, and the 3hour "National Pass" hike tamar and I took was easily one of the highlights of my australia trip so far. And I FINALLY rode a horse, for the first time EVER in my life. It was pretty cool.

One and a half days in the blue mountains proved enough for myself, Jenny and Tamar. Amber had set her sights on an ambitious 2 day hike, so she and Matt (whom we met up with there) went off on their own into the Jenolan Valley, while us three girls headed back to the coast for more beachy paradises. We set our sights on Jervis Bay National Park, and by the light of dusk set up our tent at the "cave beach" campsite, kept company by the local roo population the whole time. By this point my enthusiasm for camping was pretty well worn off, and fantasies of a nice comfy bed, mine at home even, were frequent.

That day and next were spent relaxing lays on beachs, taking slow forays into local towns for coffee and breakfast, and a hilarious rural op-shop-stop. Night two saw me serenading an audience of fellow campers as we finished off our dinner, right before heading out on a futile mission to find an open pub/bar at 11pm. A laughable venture, really. The next day we packed up and headed towards woolongong, occasional beach stops along the way, to meet Amber and Matt before continuing to Sydney, since we had to return our rental car by 10am the following morning

At some point during these ten days, we coined a motto for our trip, which has since become the motto for my trip as a whole, and perhaps my life? As we raised our wine glasses/mugs by the rosy light of dusk in the bluemountains, I demanded a toast.. I'm big on toasts.. Jenny said, using a lovely translated-from-german turn of phrase, "To jumping over our shadows" which basically means: to facing our fears, pushing our boundaries, and going beyond where our selves seem to end and the rest of the world begins.

And how.

Loving/Leaving the factory

So. After 6 months in Australia, 9 if you count my first stint, with a total of 7.5 months of that time spent at the lovely quagmire that is the arts factory, I figured it was time to move.

As a matter of fact, I'd always had 'after christmas' in my mind as a departure date. 6 months seemed a nice round number. Whatever that means. As January approached, i felt more and more comfortable with my choice because it became clear there would be a mass exodus of 'long termers' around this time; why stay if everyone is leaving? (yet again.. and again.. and again...)

A few days before christmas I realized my departure was fast approaching, and recalled that I had promised myself i'd quit a few weeks early so I could really enjoy my last little while at the Factory. The next day I gave my 2weeks notice, and was off the roster 6 days later. (my wallet and bank balance commiserated...). I had also decided that I was F<^king sick of bus living, and within a week had moved back into the campground. I became a happy full time resident of Sugoi Street!

And so began the emotional rollercoaster that was my arts factory wind-down! For a while I felt no less or more upset about leaving. In fact, it all seemed quite unreal, as drastic changes like this always do; I still can't quite come to grips with how easily and quickly something or someone can become a mere memory. It makes everything feel like it might just slip right through your fingers. Buddhism says we never really held it in the first place, and we must learn to let go. I did try to take comfort in this thought while mentally preparing myself for the separation anxiety to come. (True to byron style; when in doubt, turn to eastern religions! they have good answers AND good food!)




About a week before my departure date, a hazy veil was removed from my eyes and suddenly I saw my little world more clearly than ever before. Every tiny detail was being soaked up by my senses in the vain hope of keeping them with me forever and ever and ever. This 'letting go' thing was proving difficult! The struggle peaked during my last sunday session at Oska Cafe, where musicians (mostly arts factorians) gather on fuzzy sunday mornings to perform/enjoy laid back music and absorb bacon grease&caffeine. Every moment, every note, brought on more and more intense feelings. I tried to focus on how lucky I was that I should leave with memories like these in my mind and heart! But, alas, nothing could stop the flow of emotion and I had to excuse myself about 4 times to go hide around the corner and cry my eyes out.

(the hangover didnt help...)



Finally, d-Day came, rather anticlimactically. Spent my last evening first poking at my first-and-only-ever 2$ dinner at Cheeky Monkeys, then wandering around Byron late at night with Tamar, eating one final hedgehog from the 23hour bakery. Awoke the next morning to a very long to-do list that included giving away half my stuff, and packing the rest into a suitcase, a backpack, and a box to follow me down by post at a later date. Peppered through my tasks were many hugs, goodbyes, and last minute additions to my todo list. (Crap! Never asked so-and-so for that money they owe me! 20minutes is enough time to do laundry, right? Its never too late to make that long-promised 3dozen chocolate chip cookies.....) At about T-minus2hours, I must have blacked out, cause the rest is just a big ol' blur of reassuring words, hugs, tears (mostly mine) and car related pranks.



And then just like that, we were gone. Jenny, Amber, Myself, and Tamar were dazedly packed into the car, hurdling down the highway towards rest stops and beaches unknown, no longer under the protective wing of the Arts Factory and Byron Bay. I felt like a kite whose string had been cut;flying through random space, unsure where or even if I'd land again... How long would I be caught in updrafts, and how far would they carry me? Would I wind up swallowed by the sea? caught in place by some branches again? On I flew.

Hi All!

I am working on a real entry right now, i promise. i swear. I DO! But in the meantime, here are some pictures that I posted on Facebook, covering the last 2-3 months of my life.

More and more and more Byron lots of pics of silly people.

Byron Wind-Down aka my last month in Byron Bay, when I quit work and lived in the campsite.

4 is a magic number OR 4 crazy girls get in a giant rental car and driiive driiive drive their way to sydney and the blue mountains and beyooooond.

Just The Two Of Us, Part One!
The first of two massive sets of photos chronicling my 10 day trip in a campervan with Tamar, a dear Arts Factory friend, between sydney and melbourne, and just south of Melb along the great ocean road.

And in other news, I'm gonna be an Auntie! My Brother & Sister in law are expecting in September! So, my travel plans may need a bit of re-jigging now... hmm.....

tons of hugs and kisses and sad/lonely sighs,

Claire

Christmas in the land down undah.

I love christmas. With a passion.

As soon as halloween is over, it becomes my obsession, my pre-winter raison-d'etre. As the days get darker and colder and more threatening, the reds, golds, and greens of autumn become the ones of christmas decorations, and keep me going. I pour over the update of last years christmas playlist, and start playing it privately right away, publicly as soon as my friends will tolerate, and feel giddy every time I hear sleigh bells. I start keeping Christmas-present/card lists in about 4 different places. I drool over delicate blown glass ornaments and can't resist from buying at least 4 new ones for my tree-to-be, despite the fact I have way too many ornaments already. Decorations go up on the first of december. I create a huge mental list of all the crafts I will inevitably not make as presents for people. I spend too much time examining and buying a tree at the market, then argue with someone, anyone, while attempting to get that damn thing up straight. I stay up ridiculously late doing christmas baking/crafting at least twice. Christmas eve-day is, without fail, a mix of excitement and intense stress as I rush around completing last-minute preparations for the next morning, and curse my annual christmas procrastination YET again. 4pm Christmas eve - shops are closed, all I can do now is some rushed wrapping, and get cleaned up and dressed for a lovely, long, rich family&friends dinner. Christmas morning comes and I am like a very young child again, in my christmas PJs, waking everyone up needlessly early to start the gift opening around the base of the tree while drinking coffee and eating croissants. The rest of the day is spent lounging, tidying, playing with new toys, watching christmas movies, and enjoying the glowing buzzing feeling of happiness and satisfaction we all share.

Christmas in australia was pretty much NONE of those things. It was hot and summery, it was over in a flash, and it was my first christmas spent without my family. Yet, it was probably the best christmas of my life so far.

It was well into december before we decorated the hostel on a hot sunny day, my bathing suit still wet from a morning trip to the beach. The only festive thing in town was a giant fake tree in the middle of town, covered in peace signs and hideous color-changing orbs, taunting my love of christmas. I swore to single-handedly spread christmas spirit around the hostel, I made it my mission to carry out christmas traditions in order to spread the cheer - but it was easily another week before I even remembered to transfer my playlist to the hostel stereo system. I continually marveled with others at how it felt like pretend-christmas-in-July thanks to a lack of all those normal indicators of the festive season, and tho I anticipated the normal christmas-music backlash, much to my delight others shared my relief at some, at any, feeling of christmas cheer. I initiated a christmas countdown board at the front reception desk, just to keep myself from missing the day completely, and felt a tinge of jealousy every time a package or sticker-decorated red envelope arrived behind reception for one of the guests. It was probably the 22nd or 23rd before I attempted to create my list, when it occurred to me that broke backpackers needs to get creative with gift giving. I settled on some good old fashioned Christmas baking, carried out just hours before the eve. (At least some things never change!) I tried and tried, but it still felt so un-chirstmasy.

On the eve, a big masquerade dinner was taking place at the hostel, but I just didn't feel like taking part. It was a huge affair, 200 people, mostly short term guests who seemed to highlight my loneliness rather than relieve it. I had decided early on that my priority was to be with friends, but the eve found everyone either working or scattered. At around 8pm a small group of us gave up on any special plans and headed over to the bar for a turkey dinner reminiscent of a college cafeteria "santa-special". And yet, what a lovely dinner! We talked about our families, shared our christmas traditions, talked, drank, and were merry. We were a rag-tag group, but that made it feel even better. After dinner we escaped back to the hostel to join in slightly-crazier-than-normal craziness of drunk&happy backpackers. A few gifts and christmas notes were exchanged as we milled around starting to feel festive and loving.

On christmas morning, i rose early to finish packing my baked goodies, then distributed them to the foot of friends beds/tents while they still slept. Walking around the campground I giggled and felt fuzzy at the sight of 7 present-stuffed-Christmas-stockings, hung on a piece of twine running between two bamboo trees outside a group of tents. Around 10am our little group commandeered 3tables in the big kitchen and united over a potluck christmas breakfast, complete with mimosas and sentimental speeches. We ate for ages, complimented each others food and thanked each others cooking efforts. We laughed and took silly pictures, passed around the santa hats, and openly wondered if the yoghurt had gone bad thanks to the constantly malfunctioning Arts Factory fridges. Full of food, sweating from the effort of eating, we retreated to the pool for some morning swimming hi-jinx, then stuffed the pool to head to the beach, partly out of longing for the sea, but mostly just so we could say we spent christmas on the beach. Never will I forget the sight of a surfer heading down to the sea, board under arm, clothed in nothing but a Santa Hat. Around 3pm I headed back to do a short 4hour shift behind reception; best work shift EVER. I pretty much just sat there, aglow with contentment, loaning out pots and pans and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, happily receiving their mutual wishes, and giving out christmas hugs and kisses.



At some point that morning, It dawned on me that a christmas void of all the normal traditions and routines was also void of all the normal stressors and superficialities, leaving my mind free to focus on and enjoy all the little things that christmas is really about. Not gift-giving; any gifts were tiny tokens, and the note that came with the gift was the truly special part of it. One friend gave out bracelets of hemp twine with a single knot, 'tied with love and positive intention' - i think he hit the christmas spirit nail on the head.

So, even if I missed my christmas a bit, and missed my family and friends, It was easily one of the best christmases of my life. Though it was lacking all my normal traditions, though it was hot and sunny and over way too quickly (by the 26th we all wondered if it had happened at all?!) I loved it for whittling down all the christmas bullshit and leaving me with nothing but the truly important and rewarding parts of the christmas season; love and positive intention. I hope to make every christmas for the rest of my life just like this one. Aka: sorry people, no more gifts, but I can promise you tender notes and lots of hugs, kisses and love.

Merry Christmas and Happy new year to you all, I love you & miss you, and wish you all the most amazing things in the upcoming year.

xoxoxoxoxox Merry Christmas!! xoxoxoxoxoxox