Canada

This past trip has been a difficult one to write about. I suppose it’s the very nature of the thing, really. There’s nothing particularly exotic about the locales we visited. Absent were the staple mishaps that generally lead to one of us hunched over a toilet, admitted into a hospital or being escorted by the local constabulary outside of the city limits. In other words, there’s nothing particularly funny about the events that transpired this summer (that’s not to say they weren’t fun!).

I suppose that part of the challenge in writing about this trip is the simple fact that so many of the people who have kept up with this blog were actually there. Why read about something you’ve already seen and experienced? What impact would it have? What purpose? What could I possibly say in writing that I wouldn’t have already expressed in person?

Those are the questions I’ve faced, which in turn have caused me to stall, doubt or ignore the notion of writing about my experiences being back home. Yet time and again I have found myself thinking back to this summer in Canada, unable to escape the need to linger just a little longer in the depths of memory.

For four years and counting, I’ve been fascinated by the possibilities of what’s “out there.” This was certainly a driving factor in my decision to uproot from a steady job in the suburbs of Vancouver. I’ve certainly never regretted the move, for in the intervening years I have seen amazing things, met incredible people and travelled to places that up until a few years ago I would never even have considered (some, it turns out, for good reason).

For this, I am grateful.

But what these experiences have truly underscored is the fact that, in the words of Dorothy Gale, “There’s no place like home.” As clichéd and trite as this might sound, truer words have never been spoken, and it’s taken till now to fully realize the extent of their meaning.

Being away from home for so long has not been easy. It might be the thought of a piping hot plate of nachos that triggers the feeling, the desire to visit a decent used-bookstore or coffee shop, or just the thought of being amongst family and old friends; either way, the longing to be home, while not altogether pervasive (and let’s face it, there’s not much time to think about it during the 9 to 5 slog), is nevertheless present, even if only as a sliver of thought at the back of my consciousness.

It was with a degree of poignancy, therefore, that accompanied my first trip home in two years.

Travelling literally from coast to coast, spending time with family, friends, and friends who might as well be family, taught me that what’s truly incredible and amazing about this world, about this life, is not so much about what’s “out there,” but what’s been in front of me all these years. It’s you, it’s us, it’s the joys and sorrows we’ve experienced together, the various points where our lives have intersected and the bonds that have been strengthened and broken and built up again because we’ve chosen to do so. It’s what we share and what we have shared and what we will share that are the truly remarkable stories that cannot be fully expressed but can be read between the words and lines written here.

There’s nowhere else but “here” where these experiences can be had. No trek across a volcano, no close encounter with an orangutan, no ancient ruin, no prawn off an Australian barbecue, no over-crowded train journey, and no dog meat on sale at the local market has a chance of topping that.

And for that I am truly grateful.

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British Columbia























Ontario

















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Prince Edward Island