Month: July 2008

Pandora’s WestCoast box

I’m coming to you courtesy of free wireless at the Regina Public Library, where an hour ago i visited their in-branch art gallery. (How visionary — are you listening, Ucluelet, with your coming new community centre?)

The show currently running is Pandora’s Box, an 11-woman show of more or less controversial images rooted in the double-edged Greek myth portraying Pandora as the first woman, who brings either many gifts or (via her infamous box) all evils.

In talking with the curator, i suddenly flashed on the idea that the Pacific Rim Arts Society should introduce a little depth and controversy into the WestCoast visual arts scene by commissioning 10 artists to produce a work each that will:

  • address at least one significant local issue head-on;
  • piss at least one person off (local or tourist);
  • probably never hang on someone’s living room wall.

That would be such a welcome change from our endless stream of what i call “eco-porn” — pretty images of idealized wilderness intended to covey nothing but feel-good.

The whole country seemed to be devolving into a mania for the distraction it called entertainment, a day and night mimicry of art that menaced nothing, redeemed nothing and meant nothing but forgetfulness.
–Arthur Miller in his autobiography Timebends

Unmugged in Medicine Hat

Arrived at Medicine Hat 8:30 p.m. with a plan for the all-night layover. I asked a cab driver where the movie theatres are: Medicine Hat mall (where else?), about a $13 cab ride. Could i walk there? Oh no, you can’t walk that far. Categorically impossible. So i wandered instead, and immediately stumbled upon a bus loop, and caught a bus to the mall, which turned out to be about an hour’s walk away. What’s wrong with these old folks that they can’t remember life before the almighty car?

To my surprise films were showing till 10 p.m., even on a Thursday, so i caught Wanted, with Angelina Jolie and one of the nondescript male stars i no longer keep track of. I’d read Christy Lemire’s positive review on CBC that made me want to see it.

Underwhelmed. Neat effects, interesting idea (if a bit of a stretch), but the male lead was annoying and the camera work was MTV and A.J. was, well, A.J., as always. Another dozen over-the-top stunts involving people killing people in ever more novel ways: when will we get to the end of that road, i wonder. (With time to kill beforehand, i snuck in to see the first 20 minutes of Hancock, with Will Smith as a down-at-heel superhero in need of a PR makeover, and that one looked better all round.)

Got out at midnight, with 4 hours to bus time. I walked mostly back via the city network of unlit, winding trails through forest and green space — a highly unnerving three hours of pausing to listen for lurking muggers or drunken youth gangs, scouting out flight opportunities into the bush, and berating myself for stupidity in inviting disaster. One hand on my little LED flashlight, knife at the ready in my pocket, stealthing along on the gravel path … i met exactly four living creatures in the whole three hours — two amorous teens, a doe, and a cat — and they all startled the shit out of me.

In my dubious dark-path wanderings i found the very spot where Sylvia and i launched our punt in our 2004(?) row/drift down the South Saskatchewan and Saskatchewan River system, ending up in Lake Winnipeg 6 weeks later. (I’ve got to get that page posted again.) Aty least i think it was the same spot — it was 2 a.m., dark, and the river was quite a bit higher than i remembered.

It was a huge relief to get back to lit streets again, then the sanctuary of an all-night Tim Horton’s. But the layover time flew by like the snap of a finger.

The 4 a.m. bus from Medicine Hat was packed full, to my surprise. People like to travel all night? I barely got a seat, and all but wrecked my neck trying to sleep for the next few hours — it’s not humanly possible — but slid into Regina happy under the sun and eager once again.

Choco-not

Borrowing a page from my good friend Vancouveriste , i shall blog occasionally about unusual or significant foodstuffs i run across (in V’s case, often chocolate).

I’m in the habit of lugging around far more food than i need, as i travel. This is the result, i think, of my deep-seated anxiety about the instability and hostile nature of the world (something i am actively trying to reverse), and an entirely reasonable leeriness over what’s likely to pass for food at most of the rest stops. Anyway, in prep for my 22-hour Fernie-to-Regina bus marathon, i stockpiled these necessities:

  • baby carrots, nectarine, 2 tangerines, apple, banana, kiwi, dates, sunflower seeds, almonds
  • 2 bagels; wedge o’ spiced cheddar
  • bar of dark chocolate

Regarding the last, it was a Hershey’s Extra Dark Reserve 70% cacao. As friend Tim said long ago, “I just don’t feel the need to support [insert name of corporate food giant].” I concur, but this was a last-second impulse purchase from a rack right by the checkout. At 100g for $2.19 the price and bar size were right.

It didn’t live up to the hype on the overpackaging, though. Few interesting overtones, slightly burnt aftertaste, surprisingly bland for 70% chocolate. Plus wih the glaring absence of any “fair trade” copy on the packaging, you just gotta know the beans were picked by some poor 6-year-old in Africa. I’m no connoisseur of chocolate, and i just can’t get my head around trusting anything about food multinationals, so this review is biased. There you go.

Long ride

My debate leaving Fernie was where to go: Saskatoon (nice city but no hostel), Regina (22-hour bus ride), or straight through to mom’s in Winnipeg (because i’m a bored with the rootless life). Taking full advantage of my footloose life, i didn’t decide till i stepped up to the counter and bought the ticket — to Regina. And then found out it involves an 8 p.m. to 4 a.m. layover in Medicine Hat — unappetizing prospect.

The driver, when he saw my ticket, pointed out that the Hat’s bus depot would be closed and i would be “on the street” for the 8-hour layover. Then he scribbled on my ticket, changing it to route via Calgary, where there’d be only a 2-hour layover.

It was a delight to ride out of the Rockies’ Crowsnest Pass into the foothills and finally the prairies, over the next 4 hours. I had a double seat to myself, the clouds were dramatic, the visibility good. By the time we reached Fort McLeod i’d decided to forgo master-of-the-universe Calgary and the tedious Trans-Canada, and stick with the southern route, despite the layover. I like the Hwy. 3 milk run, with its stops in the small places. What, i’m in a rush?

Someplace in southern Alberta it just crept up on me, that flat, flat ground to the horizon all round, that endless sky full of clouds like turtles and shards of pots and gods’ playroom, and i could feel my consciousness unfolding from the valleys and reaching out and out, wide and unfettered as the wind, and i smiled the whole rest of the day. I love the prairies, and i’m back on the wagon train of life in the now. And it’s true, what they say: there’s really very little to worry about, right here, right now.