Back on old stomping grounds, and stomping like crazy.

I'm currently residing three doors down from my old childhood home in Kaleden, with my kind and generous neighbors, the Cooks. It's a little strange to look out the window and be confronted with the scenic wallpaper of my youth; blue lake, dark golden-and-green mountains. The air is dry and warm and scented with Russian olive tree blooms, desert dust and sagebrush. I feel very at peace... for now!

What is this... let me count... house number seven! I have stayed in seven different homes since I began my Grand Vagabond Homecoming Tour of BC. The G.V.H. Tour has become enormously easier since Kurosuke (my big black mama of a gypsy wagon) and I have bonded. Yesterday I took the day off from mural painting in Okanagan Falls to learn how my black beastie works. Tom Cook showed me fan belts and the master cylinder and the oil doodly-hoo and the fram-fram whamma-dammer. You can see that my retention is a little iffy when it comes to mechanics... regardless, I am now capable of performing an oil and oil-filter change, AND an air filter change. Yay me.

I may get another mural contract in Penticton, which would allow me to soak up a little more of what I consider a "REAL" summer. Ain't no party like a lakeside party! I mean seriously-- there are lakes and boats and beaches and campfires, and many many golden-brown and happy people. What else could I really want? Hmmm. I'll have to give that some thought... because what I want, I get! Nothing can hold me back!

How cool was that?

The reunion was a blast. There were the initial butterflies as Tamara, Brad and I walked into the restaurant; but a spicy Caesar and a conversation with Mike Shaver later, it was all copacetic. (Mike tutored me before the Math 11 final, securing my grade of 52%, thereby allowing me to pass and eventually get into university. He doesn't remember this.)

There were three main topics during the night:

1) Where are you living and what are you doing? (This one was a little pithy for me, so I usually answered, "I'm a gypsy.")

2) Do you have any kids yet? (Directed at me, this one was met with wild laughter.)

3) Are you on Facebook?

Yes folks, proof positive that I am part of the media generation. My admission that I don't have a website with any of my art on view-- and that I am in fact not in possession of a computer-- was met with tsks of disapproval. Do I have any excuses in this day and age? Not any good ones, I guess.

One of the things I suddenly craved today was a cup of the perfectly roasted, toasted and hot-hot-hot crafted cups of coffee that I could invariably find at any Mr. Donuts in Japan (Or 'Misdo' as they were cutely shortened to). I suppose these random cravings are the backlash of a traveler's life; I have one friend who refuses to eat any Thai food because nothing can measure up to real Thai food, another who hates the smell of flowers because of the instant aching desire he feels to be in Hawaii when he smells them.

I'm getting emails every other day from Japanese friends, innocently asking me when I'll be back, and how long I plan to stay... I can't really answer, so I dodge the question and type merrily about the weather or the wildlife I've seen in BC since my return. I don't doubt that it was time to leave Japan. I do doubt whether I've really 'come home'.

Fehhh. Let's get to the core of this matter.

Jobs, work, careers. That's what's occupying about 50% of the 10% of the part of the brain that I actually use these days. (The other 50% is busy with Misdo coffee, my Speedboarding boyfriend, oatmeal cookies, Facebook, money, oil changes, The Secret, burning the Man, laundry...) I have an interview today. I'm feeling far too cocky about it. Like-- I'm fab-u-lous. Who wouldn't want me working for them? And if they don't want me-- well, that's OK too. I've got this sort of lackadaisical belief in serendipity, and I envision a jillion open doors before me. I trust that eventually, I'm going to walk through the right one. It's just this hanging back, this study of the doors and their myriad possibilities, this sense of homelessness-- that's what's getting to me, if anything is.

I'm not really hurting for cash, nor for a place to lay my head at the end of the day. I've been abundantly blessed with family, friends and support groups (thank you, thank you!) who have opened their doors (and their refrigerators) unto me as I go through this gypsy phase. I'm endlessly grateful that these people are giving me what I really need; time to figure out what it is that I really want. But here's the question for you, dear reader: Do You Know What You Really Want? I know I want to be happy, and luckily, I can be happy no matter what I'm doing, where I am, who I am with. It truly is my great talent, my best habit. But when I try to define beyond that-- What Do I Want-- I'm not sure where to go with it. Am I looking for material things, or ephemera? I mean-- what is there really beyond happiness that I could desire? So now-- is the question before me-- What Do I Want That Will Bring The Greatest Happiness to the Most People?

By gum, I think that's got it.

Back in Aldergrove now, this little Fraser Valley oasis of sunshine. I can see why mom and dad are often at their wits end(s)... Prince Rupert and Port Ed definitely would have the upper hand in a Canada-wide sogginess competition.

Yesterday I insured Kurosuke, my big black beast of a 1981 Oldsmobile Station Wagon. Right now she's a big black poop beast too, as when I left her hear in Aldergrove I unwittingly parked under a nest of baby pigeons. Their target practice has kind of given my car a reverse Dalmatian effect. Charming. Anyway, no point in washing her this morning, as I'm sure I'll be collecting a variety of insect corpses on my drive up the Hope-Princeton highway. I'll hit the Spray-n-Wash when I pull into Penticton.

Today is the day I embark on the journey that will lead me to what I consider the first major milestone of true adulthood. My first high school reunion. Of course, I'm primed for the usual 'surprises'-- people fatter, thinner, unrecognizable due to surgery. More hair on the guys faces, and less on top. What I'm not prepared for is the feelings that seeing these people will evoke... will it feel like high school all over again? Will it be melancholy or just ridiculous? Are we all really twenty-eight years old, inside and out? I doubt it. Best to go into this fearlessly, just be myself and have fun. That's the best I can do in any situation, every time and everywhere anyway.

My cousin Christopher prompted me to join Facebook, assuring me that it's safe and easy and fun, blah blah blah. So I joined... all of a sudden I'm in touch with people from elementary school, high school, OUC dorms... random characters of every description can find me and 'poke' me and message me and 'write on my wall'... I'm finding it all a little overwhelming, actually. I'm a neophyte when it comes to the concept of internet communities. I can understand the appeal of keeping in touch when we are all living such widespread lives, but I sometimes think that the internet forces us into clinging to weak connections. There is a natural rhythm to relationships-- sometimes we ought to meet, befriend, and then drift away from one another. We might better appreciate the meaning that a brief encounter imparts.

Then again, I did join. And I do like seeing what everyone is up to. Consider the subject dropped.

I'm still in Prince Rupert-- Port Edward, actually, if I'm being correct about it. Port Ed is the north coast equivalent of Kaleden, BC. Meaning that there is an ancient general store, a miniature post office, an elementary school, a volunteer fire department, and not much else. Houses. Deer.

It has rained every day since my arrival. That, coupled with a bad cold and the fact that our family dog kicked the bucket last summer, means that I've been spending an inordinate amount of time indoors. So I haven't really been enjoying those houses and deer as much as I might like.

Now I'm at the internet cafe in Prince Rupert-- the closest BIG CITY (pop. 15,000?), which is still a good 20 km. away from Port Ed. Mom dropped me off here on her way to her 'Nifty Fifties' walking club.
Mom: "Thirteen times around the gym equals one mile! Want to come, Endrene?"
Me: "Uh. Let me process that information. Hmmm. No, that's ok."

Mom's curious whether I'm considering looking for a job here in Rupert. Uh. Let me process that information. Hmmm. No, that's ok.

Not that this is a bad place. The people are friendly, the seafood is to die for, and the scenery is stunning. But this is a remote place. A remote, wet place. It's hard to get to, too. The ferry that I came up on-- the new ferry-- has been dubbed The Northern Misadventure, and has already been removed from the fleet for refits. A return flight to Vancouver can run anywhere from $500 to $700. And the bus or train can take upwards of 30 hours to get to where I'd want to go.

Gee, seems like I have my nose pretty well turned up.

At any rate, it's good to see my parents. I'm probably going to be in the Okanagan by mid-May, and definitely in time for my 10-year high school reunion. Can you believe that it's that time already? In the meantime, I'm enjoying cruising the province for a suitable community, and I'm checking out my options as far as jobs and further education go... lots of doors wide open. I'll wander the hallways for now.