Speed Trials

Written somewhere over the Pacific, 2 July 2006…

Here I sit, cramped in the middle seat of the middle aisle of a packed plane, and inevitably start to skip around from song to song on my MP3 player. As I searched for lovelorn tunes across the folders of my device, I stumbled upon a new little file called VOICE/.

It’s the accidental recording from the night Andrew and I spent on the floor of his living room, drinking tea and just talking… I muffled byte, five or six words strung together, and then my giggling as I fumbled to turn the thing off. His voice, that I had in abundance for 3 weeks, suddenly such a commodity that I can’t help but replay it until my batteries finally die out.

I haven’t yet landed in LA, and already this is where things stand…

Our last few days together were spent as were the first few: out in the country. Andrew took the day off on Friday and so we drove up to Mt. Dandenong for a little taste of nature. The view from up there is great, and we took quite a long walk through the forest. It was just so lovely walking through the woods, talking about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other. We had lunch at the cafe at the top of the mountain, a really tasty picnic with wine. We then drove through the countryside – got momentarily lost – and ended up back at Kangaroo Ground to meet Andrew’s mom Judy and her partner Tim. They are both warm and hospitable, and I felt at ease around them right away. Judy made an awesome dinner, and Andrew and I got drunk on Scotch. We ended up falling asleep on the couch while watching Tennis (Judy and Tim’s preferred sport). Waking up in KG is great. Andrew and I spent the morning cuddling in bed, looking out the window to that amazing view of the hillside, and lazily made our way to the kitchen at around 11am – had toast and avocado with Judy, and then we went down to St-Andrew’s market. What a great place! Full of Aussie Hippies hawking their wares in tents or on tarpolines. We ate a felafel pita the size of my arm and squatted in the Chai Tent. We bumped into a few of Andrew’s friends (something that seemingly happens everywhere we go) and had a good chat. Thom reminded me so much of Declan I found it hard not to stare, sure that he would recognize me at any moment.
We then drove back into the city, met up with Luke and Mike at a cafe in Brunswick, and chatted while the hours sped by. We rushed out to footscray in the early evening to have dinner with Simon and Sharon, where we dined luxuriously on Ethiopian Delights. We then went to the Dancing Dog Cafe, had the best chocolate cake I’ve ever had, and then said some very bittersweet goodbyes to Si and Shaz. I know it’s by no means the end, but it’s sad to say goodbye nonetheless.

And then after dinner we finally got around to our original plan. We found the location of this mystery party – this beautiful compound that looks like a 1950′s Hollywood studio. We entered thrugh the main gates and walked past industrial looking units, with barred windows and red brick everywhere, following the sounds of the party through the maze until we hit unit 57. As the door opened a pool of red light spilled out onto the wet pavement, and we were greeted by a cross-section of Melbourne’s artistic elite. What we had been invited to turned out to be the 40th birthday party of a well-established contemporary dancer thrown by her equallly successful contemporary painter husband in his huge and very stylish studio. The affair was rigged with lighting,, dj’ed, and catered. It was the sort of party where guests performed as gifts for the birthday girl. Andrew and I just stood around in our funny t-shirts and jeans, 20 years everyone’s junior, drinking their free designer beer. We stayed long enough to watch Cobie dance (as the male half of a duo number to a Serge Gainsborough tune) and then said our goodbyes. I’ll miss Cobie, we spent a bit of time together over these past weeks, and it just made me want to spend more with her.

Back at the apartment, Andrew and I spent our last night together – both of us slept badly, me hardly at all. When his alarm finally went off, we simply held onto each other. As though I had always been there. As though it was the first time we had ever touched. We hardly spoke on the drive to the airport, content instead to hold his hand which held my thigh. As we sat at the airport’s cold cafeteria table, looking out at the grey Melbourne morning rather than at each other, we braced ourselves for what was to come.
We stood by those miserable ugly metal doors and held each other, kissed each other, nuzzled each other’s necks for a few sad moments, and I honestly didn’t know how to leave.
Had he uttered the one word, would I have turned on my heels, taken his hand, and walked back to his car with him? I don’t know. He didn’t say it, so I left it at that. We had spent the last 20 hours discussing his alleged “dodginess”, but he has proven himself so genuine, so trustworthy and sincere to me over the last weeks, all I can do is pity his naysayers.

I return to Ottawa with nothing changed but my perspective…

June 28, 2006 – 11:20am

It’s amazing what being away for a few days can do. I have fallen in love with Melbourne, and it took an affair with Sydney to make me realize it. The weather yesterday was bleak and grey, and so I decided to take a tour of the bleak and grey parts of the city.
I started with the Queen Victoria Market, which is grungy and bustling, and the smells of fish, sausage, cheese and olives intermingle to create the most potent sense-memory of the hippy urbanite lifestyle. I had lunch there, amongst the pigeons and the vendors, unsure of which group was louder. I then made my way down to the Docklands, which would have been a disappointment (especially after seeing the Sydney Harbour the day before) had the weather been any better. But it being overcast, and with everyone I passed bundled in scarves and sweaters, it was the perfect background for this brisk fall day. The Docklands is the quickest growing development in Melbourne, and so in the far off distance I could here the sounds of steel on steel, as construction plowed through.
I then hopped a tram to Footscray, which took me through the heart of North Melbourne, arguably the “coolest” part of the city. I smiled meekly at the thin Indie Rawk boys who sat opposite me, and they smiled meekly back, and it reinforced the notion that I DO fit in. I DO belong. Footscray ended up being a perfect getaway from the rest of the city: its streets are lined with discount stores and African Cafes, and I was certainly the minority in this community.

Picture all of this whilst Hayden’s Elk Lake Serenade loops in my earphones, and it becomes clear how my infatuation of the last two weeks has turned into a deep, unconditional love!

So Andrew and I had our “talk” as we sat on the Ferry to Manly. It was really good to clear the air, and to have things said aloud. Basically things are good. We’re both very much on the same page about “us” and we’re both hopeful and patient. I am returning home as scheduled, so no worries there, and I am truly happy that he is in my life.

Also, as I expected, we’ve both benefited most from the other acting as a sounding board, working out plans and directions, and sorting each other’s shit out. Seeing as we’re so similar, and share a lot of the same ideologies, we found instant trust in each other. I know that what he’s saying to me is in my best interest, and vice versa.

There was a definite lightness after we talked it out, and we’re still absolutely enjoying each other’s company. He’s such a flirt, and has such a way with words, I’m still blown away that I’m the one who’s captured his fancy. How the hell did that happen???

26 June 2006 – 12:30pm

My first two days in Sydney showed me a completely different culture… That of the corporate meeting world! On the first day, after I checked in to the hostel and wandered around the city for a bit, I met up with Andrew and Simon for lunch, and we sort of decided, spur of the moment, that I should tag along to their next meeting. It went very well, and so the next day I went with them to their first three of the morning. It was so great to see them interact with these people, and with each other. I made a few well-placed comments, speaking as THE authority on high art in Canada, and I think overall I helped in the schmoozing. It’s a completely different world than the one I know, and I really loved every minute of it.

So then on Saturday Andrew took me via ferry to Manly, which is a beachy resort suburb, and it was very lovely. Though it’s winter here, the weather was balmy, and we walked around in just our short sleeves. We partied pretty hard on Saturday night, ending up in a karaoke booth in Surry Hills at some ungawdly hour, and Andrew threw up on a Hyundai. Good times. Sunday morning we rose at around 9:30am, checked out of our place, and made our way down to Bondi Beach, and walked along the cliffside to Bronte. Both places are take-your-breath-away beautiful, and we had the best lunch yet at an unassuming cafe along the beach. It was great.

We parted ways on Sunday evening, Andrew returning to Melbourne (where the weekly grind began again this morning) and I stayed on an extra day in Sydney. I met up with Janet, who took me out for the quintassential Sydney meal: the $5 steak. I met a few of her childhood friends, we all gabbed about work and boys, and then returned to her very sharp flat in North Sydney. I woke up this morning to the best view of the Opera House.

I’m spending the day wandering around the downtown core of Sydney, I’ll take the monorail, and sit in the Botanic Gardens for a couple of hours and think about what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.