Whistler itself is not unlike living within a Winter themed snow globe: pristinely surreal architecture in an environment that can be ‘shaken up’. You peer in through it’s clear glass sphere and are immediately transported in. You look up at its flawless, snow covered landscapes and walk through the complimenting winding suburban village of bay windows, sloped and modulated roofs at varying heights with balconies facing the street, all made of varying but durable textures and natural materials. Your surroundings are romantic and inviting. In the initial month, the winding pedestrian streets are a place to get lost in – a stark contrast to the urban city you escaped from. There is no mention of current affairs, natural disasters or politics. The only concerns consuming space in the residents minds are a) When is the next ‘pow day’ and b) Do I have said ‘pow day’ off. This town, permanently or transiently, is an escape from reality. Continue reading
Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is ‘Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home’.
– Nick Miller
One of my earliest memories of Kathryn was circa 1997. We were in grade four at primary school, sitting underneath a covered area with the rest of our grade on the cold grey cement eating lunch. Kathryn donned a short, brown, side parted-bob with some hair gathered into an elastic with a bright red ribbon on the side of her head. Her bright blue eyes, large, absorbing her surrounds. I didn’t know much about Kathryn at this age but my impression and knowledge of this girl was that she was quiet, extremely bright, a “grade A” singer, incredibly kind, always sat with Briony and Georgia at lunch and due to her tiny stature, always sat on the end of the front row in school pictures. Continue reading
Not a day goes by when a visitor mutters ironically, “The snow is dumping at home… why am I here again?” and trust me, myself and everyone within a two hour radius is well aware that not only is the East coast in blizzard territory but even Hawaii (yes, HAWAII) is getting some pow. Spring has sprung early in British Columbia. Hibernation cam on Grouse Mountain is intensely watching the the bears early wake, some have even been spotted, grumpy from lack of sleep no doubt, in Whistler Village. Vancouver is worried about it’s Cherry Blossom Festival “They’re blooming too early!” one worried committee member cried on the news. But here’s silver lining to the depression that plagues Whistler seasonals… There is much more than the mountain alone that this town has to offer/apparently the summer is better anyway! Continue reading
I had been feeling introverted, confused and unhappy for a little while, so I went to a psychic. Yes, I understand a social worker or psychologist with their degrees and theories based off actual proven academic studies rather than shuffled cards and oras may have been smarter, however, I am a person who likes to look to the prosperity of the future. I do not need someone to discuss my thoughts, as my over thinking mind regarding these thoughts is what left me curled up in bed plus or minus a tub of icecream in the first place… Seriously. I was unsure what to expect of my appointment as I roamed around the shop until being invited into a tiny room. Thirty minutes later, a little closer to contentment, I walked out of the incense smelling room of tarot cards holding a gifted candle. On the base of the candle were four stickers reminding me of what my cards had revealed along with the central message, “Put yourself first”. My face must have spelt angst as the psychic grabbed for a small piece of crystal quartz* to assist me on my journey. Continue reading