I saved and saved for this camera (my first major electronics purchase!), and it finally became mine a mere two weeks before I boarded a plane to China in April 2006. We’ve been inseparable ever since, taking more then 28,000 photos (not all of them good). Together we’ve visited the Gobi desert, the terra cotta warriors, climbed the great wall, been inside the forbidden city and visited amsterdam to explore their tiny cobblestone streets more than once. It’s been by my side as I fought seasickness in the Sir Francis Drake Channel, and survived food poisoning in Las Vegas. It’s captured dozens and dozens of delicious meals, visited New York, Vancouver, the Finger Lakes, San Francisco, Halifax, Toronto and has captured moments of my daily life in Montreal and Ottawa.
It’s come home with me, and been there as I’ve said goodbye to old houses and said hello to new ones. Without it, there is no way that I would remember the names and level of cuteness of more than 75 foster kittens that we helped to make strong and brave over the course of four years. It’s captured new friends and old, places that are familiar, and ones I’d never seen before.
Without it slung over my shoulder, I’m not sure if the small details, or the tiny moments would ever catch my attention in the same way.
It’s kind of stupid, really, to mourn a camera – “It’s just a thing!”, most people would say. But for almost five years it was my second set of eyes and reminded me daily to look at things in a new way. I’m going to miss it.
And then, obviously, I must replace it.
- Started my work week on Sunday – and made that one a 16-hr day, just for fun!
- Helped assemble, pack, and deliver one-hundred dozens of cupcakes (yes, that *is* 1200)
- I’m also mourning the death of my big camera, but that’s another story entirely. It makes me quite sad. Sooooo sad.
Now I must research its replacement. Oh, what’s that you say? It’s black friday the best shopping day of the year other than boxing day? Well then!
Photos to return imminently.
In Ottawa, I just *knew* things. Need late-night pizza? Skip the Gabriels and order from Lorenzo’s. Want a good vet? Dr. Black at Centretown Vet Clinic (seriously, I cannot recommend her enough). Fastest way to MEC? Don’t take Wellington / Richmond unless you like moving as slowly as molasses. It was just stuff. Unimportant, but the information and tidbits that get you through your daily life and make you a local.
Arriving in Montreal was like an empty slate. I was the furthest thing from a local. Need a vet that can treat your cat’s weird chronic condition without it turning into a research project/science experiment? Good freaking luck, even with two hours of googling. Need a 2am pizza to satiate your Ottawa visitors after a late night out? In your dreams! Need some picture-hanging wire? Don’t even go there. At six months… Montreal has still left me with gaps I cannot fill and things I cannot find.
With every passing day Montreal gets a little more familiar. It’s not quite *home*, but I feel more like I belong here. Though on the flip side, Ottawa is no longer home either. I am presently home-less, except for Halifax.
But.
It’s fall in the city, and it’s beautiful and crisp. Perfect weather for gloves and scarves and layers, rosy noses and early morning bixi rides giving way into oh-so-sweltering subway rides. I am conjugating my être’s and avoir’s with diligence (and a hefty dose of “oh god WHAT IS THAT WORD in FRENCH?” thrown in with regularity), and still ordering my morning coffee en anglais (Starbucks, the French edition is seemingly impossible to get right). I am even recommending restaurants to visitors. And to locals. And they’re good!
While it is not home, yet, it is almost. And it gets better every day.
Except the driving. OH don’t even get me started on the driving!
