If I
haven’t written, it’s not that I’m not grateful, nor that I’m shy of a double
negative. I’m just slightly less on the internet (slightly) and definitely not
on it at my regular traditional evening blogging time. Blogs now need to slip
into the seams of the day and they do this less smoothly.
I have
had a tiny dilemma in the last days: pay to travel into big city Montreal to
guarantee an internet connection or hang out in one of the limited number of
walkable-to cafes offering internet in this suburby bit of town I’m living in.
So far, I’ve alternated. Today it’s a tiny Tim Horton’s in Roxboro. I have a
view out over a crossroads and an ear open for interesting conversations (there
are lots)*.  |
| If you're going to piggyback, do it in style |
Yesterday
and the day before, I had skype calls to make. My dilemma seemed trickier, as
all the locations I’ve found to be online so far have been cafes, which means
no guarantee of consistent or flowy onlineness and the possibility of noise
pollution, be it a cause of disruption to me or by me. I’m delighted, then,
that for just those two days, an unlocked internet connection accessible from
Nicolo’s flat allowed me to skype from the serenity of ‘my own’ space. I had
two fabulous coaching calls, one in each direction (I gave one, I received
one). In themselves, they are things to be grateful for. Both were meaty and
fulfilling and goodness me, the connection was fantastic! Smooth, clear, no interruptions.
Brilliant!
I
received probably one of the best emails I’ve ever had yesterday, in programming
language. I’m still smiling no end. I’m also being beautifully looked after,
stimulated, entertained, engaged.
Lovely
meeting with Roseanne – very interesting. It’s nice to feel so thoroughly
welcomed by people who owe me nothing and know me through one person’s
recommendation only. I’m loving all this yoga too. Good for me. Good for my
body. Good for everything.
Today, I discovered a brilliant, dark, ornate, wonderful artist. I was doing a Spanish translation and I didn't know the right term for something, so I looked up a few artists' exhibitions to give me some clues. This guy turned up. Check him out. He rocks. And tomorrow,
I get to go and play with the Montreal Improv people. Can't beat a good play.
* At
this moment, I’m enjoying listening to a sweary and laughy elderly man. He
switches between French and English like he’s got a poltergeist inside him, but
‘fuck’ is as common to both as his cackling. He has a rubbery voice. He’s
making me laugh. Oh god, he’s got them all at it now. There are three of them
laughing and swearing at each other in two languages. I love it!
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