Financially speaking, anyways.
I was so happy to move back home that I blindly believed that "everything would fall into place" and magically resolve itself. I created beliefs that assured me things would be okay. The first one was "it may cost me a few bucks to ship my things back, but I'll sell almost all my furniture and that will save some money". Not so much. Still $1.35 a pound to move things across 4 provinces and another $125 a month to store it here. Second one was "I'll buy a house as soon as I get there". This proved impossible. CMHC told me to sell one property, so I do, and STILL denies me regardless. Meanwhile I am pouring my money into an $800 rental unit, sleeping on an inflatable bed and our one unpacked computer is housed on a plastic folding table.
It's how we roll.
On the flip side, I can't tell you how stupid happy I am to be here. Despite the hemorraging accounts and the financial knife held to my financial jugular, I am so in love with BC. I will never ever ever move out of province again, amen. If you ever think to yourself that you've just had enough of whatever it is about your home province that drives you insane, just move away. Go. Try another province. Cleanse yourself of everything that irritated you and once you've got it out of your system, move back. I so <3 BC right now I cannot even tell you. It's the best place to live ever. Even living in a van down by the river here beats a winter in Winnipeg.
Saturday we had THE most amazing day. Got up early, hit the 7-11 for an energy drink, hit the road and got in the teeny ferry lineup for Denman Island before 9am. Beautiful sunny day, ocean sparkling on one side, a little 7 minute ferry ride with all of 20 cars transports us across the water to a gorgeous green island. As the ferry leaves the dock I look over at my prairie born and raised partner, who has a shit eating grin from side to side, amazed that we have this insane highways system in BC that apparently involves driving on BOATS. As we unbark on the other side, we enter the total unknown. Never in my life have I been on Denman, and our actual destination is Hornby Island, which is yet another ferry ride, if we can find that terminal on the other side of Denman Island.
Obediently each car leaves the ferry as instructed our uniformed BC Ferries people. We crawl slowly up the ramp and I look over at this delicious calm emerald green ocean below; how great is that. But it was as we headed up the steep island road from the ferry terminal passing a multitide of signs telling us where all the local artisans are on the island that I had "the moment". That's when I thought to myself, wow. I am in the right place.
It is extremely amazing how many artists live here. And I mean tons of them. And all KINDS of them. There are fabric artists, musicians, paper - clay - metal - wood artists. There are writers, weavers, jewelers, carvers, omg I could write an hour and probably not cover everyone! Somehow all these people sustain themselves by their art. THAT is the amazing part. Not only that, but there are festivals upon events upon concerts upon shows that CELEBRATE these artists.... all summer long!
Let me elaborate.
We travel across the island, passing a thousand flower stands that take payment by the honor system. I got a gorgeous lily arrangement for 6 bucks, I could not pass it up. Takes all of 10 minutes to traverse the island to the other side, passing ocean view farms, little orchards, a bakery, some little c-stores, then we get to the well treed other side. We get to the other tiny ferry terminal with the same 20 cars and park in the lineup. Couple minutes pass and the ferry lady walks up to each car checking tickets with a scanner. She asks are we going to the Hornby market this morning? Right -its Saturday morning, which means farmer's markets are out in full force! Sweet! Yes, apparently we are. Another little ferry excursion and we are over to Hornby Island. We laugh because the sign above the ferry terminal is hand painted, kind of crazy lettering, which amuses us. The same steep crawl up from the ferry looks like an indian reserve it has soooo many plackards pointing to this shop, and that gallery, and this store, and that artist, and don't miss Bob's Biscuits up here, and on and on and on. Probably a couple dozen signs all the way up the hill. We drive up and within a minute we stumble over the market that is just setting up at 11am. Hey, why rush, it's Island time. We start commerce when we start commerce, man. There's no hurry here.
The exhibits are in a treed little area off the road, showing everything from handmade hand woven blankets to fresh vegies and herbs. Jams, jellies, preserves... jewelery, metal sculpture, cinnamon buns next. Oh, and a tarot reader. But what got me was the $450 it cost per hand made blanket. And the $125 per small artwork (roughly a 5x7 block of wood) or the $10 per jar of jelly.
We seriously need to get ourselves on the other side of those tables.
But before I run out and print postcards, or run and slap my photos in every local gallery, or open a welding shop I have to return to the practical matters at the beginning of this post.
Where the hell are we going to live?!!