This has been a very, very long day as I travelled directly from Wollongong, New South Wales, Australia to Banff, Canada. I went by train for two hours, then by plane for 12 hours to LAX. I called my sister there but ran out of coinage. I left LA for Seattle in a two and one half hour flight. The airport was overflowing with people as the snow storms in Canada delayed the north bound travel. As it was, my plane left the airport appropriately sprayed with de-icer, an hour late to fly to Calgary – one and one half hours. Arriving late into Calgary – where there was a Tim Horton’s donut shop! Hooray! – I had missed my connecting bus to Banff. It was no problem as I went with the next one – two hours on the road. I arrived, obstensively, not long after I left Australia; at least is was the same day.
So, a really great trip and so, completely without intrigue. As such, it seems entirely without note that in this particular time space, I changed hours, days, dates, hemispheres, seasons, geography, countries – twice, locality, traffic flow and more- with my baggage in tow – all at a comfortable pace with nothing especially noteworthy to report. How blasé is that? It is indeed a small world. I even retraced my steps in one moment with a phone call to my husband back home. What an amazing time to live…
Now I am here at The Banff Centre, Alberta, Canada (http://www.banffcentre.ca/about/), for three (3) weeks to do….to do….something profound – or not, in my art practice.
Upon arrival in Canada I had a strange feeling of being home, though not quite. It is after all, western Canada. It was not really seeing the Canadian flag again or the soft spoken accents -what accents?- but, it was the winter’s squeaky snow, the muddy snow blocks hanging to the underside of the cars, the written text used on the road signs, the French language, the flooding raging melting river, the crisp air that made it hurt to breathe, the clean and cozy bathrooms, the civilized heated rooms, the weather sealed entries, the silly hats everyone wears, the snow blowers, everything, every little thing I remember and wanted to share with Tom, as he remembers too. Everything familiar to me and my senses, known in an instant yet totally unknown to my children. How strange. I have lived away from Canada for thirty-eight years. And yet, it was as if only yesterday. I am totally stretched between hemispheres and the decades. It will always be.
