The first Vancouver 2010 signs are spotted: banners actually, flying from the lamp posts. A newspaper article headlined, “Dryden catches the Olympic Fever” is the frontpage story of the Dryden Observer as the Torch goes through. We listen to Jimmy T on the CT-20, telling my father that Cascada's "Evacuate the Dancefloor" sounds much better in a club –
Past the woodstove and laundry/telephone area (laundry machines new, energy efficient but requiring a new transformer in the generator house to run the more sensitive electricity) is a shower for me, my first in three or four days; Luke’s bedroom is to the immediate right. At dinner, the epiphany of foreign relations, viewed in a Canadian context, (“Do you believe the hype of real politique or accept the fact that people on the ground in different places probably know what kind of government they want) -- and also on what the baby-boomer’s children, our generation, how does it understand itself?
I tell the host, paraphrasing now, that “I’ve set out to understand if we're really headed down a technological path to madness,” more or less, "and if making judgments on things I know, but don’t, (via the “learned abstractly and (at best), intellectualized”) model is adequate, how about the "going out and living it (and others vicariously through you)" method? Is it better to understand, to meet more of ourselves, to create a generation formed by what we want, to understand our strengths and weaknesses?
Laughing, though, as maybe it is just best to read books.Back in the house, two dogs sleep by the stove; one is fifteen years old, his sleepiness makes us the same, we tire from politics and brandy-filled chocolates, wine, and a few Molsons. It is time for a quick nap, even at this hour, to fall asleep and wake up before midnight.
WAKE UP (abruptly) after a quick nap from 21:00 to 23:15, a quick cup of coffee (Brad coffee - maybe stronger than espresso?) as we head up the #72 towards the Sioux Lookout…
Destiny approaches, this is the moment. I have been waiting for this exact moment for four months, to leave, to be gone, to be myself, or to be someone completely whomever I want each day, I must work on the Australian accent, how profound, these words of departure, for me, at last and at least. The train pulls up, there are eight or so people milling about though, it is 01:15; I get a seat after the baggage is loaded, Brad and Don come on the train, give me a hand with the carry on, 26 liters packed full, weighing maybe 50 pounds; nothing for the big diesel engines of the VIA, my immediate thoughts wait until I give my Dad a hug, slips me money, a quarter, says “you’re on your own, now,” I shake Brad’s hand. I get a quick view from the seat of the town of the Sioux Lookout: a bank, BMO, Bank of Montreal and a drug store sign complete the sleepy panorama.
Sortie, exit, learn this, polished stainless steel interior and exterior, moving quickly now, perhaps 90 kilometers an hour; I'm facing forward on the righthand side of the train, so far, no attendant has looked at the ticket. How many Americans are on this train? It feels beautiful to have a sense of minority. As the train begins to roll, one single light, mounted on the front of the Train, leads us into the darkness - a man cannot find his phone, it rings, rings, hello, I can’t find my phone," there is confusion; 01:15 CST, not many stars out, good light for writing though, somehow. Claudette and Ryan, the conductor team, Claudette is a hurried speaker, nervous almost, likely French-Canadian. “This is just to say where you’re going” as she places a small slip above my head, and the Rule(s): “Keep your shoes on moving from train to train." They get off in Winnipeg after the first leg of the journey from Toronto.
There is too much to try and see in the dark without getting sick...
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