19/02/2013 § 2 Comments


i’m home. everything is so big.



roll out: winter BA

21/09/2012 § 2 Comments

Part of the adventure takes just a day or two to unravel (or three months). This is winter in Buenos Aires: still green, a little crisp, and sunshine. Dream. Like.

A few plants that reminded me of home and I often look at them when homesick while listening to the CBC online…

A butcher of rare meats that we got to interview. He was very nice, yet very assertive. The sign above says “HAY YACARE” which means “THERE IS ALLIGATOR MEAT”. I did not try it…

These are the wispy plants that cover the ecological reserve in the neighbourhood, Puerto Madero. There use to be a big river running between the peninsula and the mainland, but now it’s just rushes. We also found out that the peninsula was created from the rubble of tearing down a bunch of buildings and dumping them just off the coast. What a crazy place…




08/08/2012 § Leave a comment

Patience is a virtue.

And then the pilot light goes off.


Waiting for rolls to be developed.

Miss youz.


round three

15/06/2012 § 2 Comments

The end is just the beginning is just the end of a beginning.

Yesterday, we finished our training: the history, the politics, the economics, the psychology, the practicum of uploading, our schedule rotation. Somehow, my arms hurt from the heavy load that required no lifting.

On Wednesday, a few of us made a night of it. Ventured to the notorious Constitution Station where an indie film was playing at Arte Cinema. Seven-forty-five, give or take five minutes, and ‘Anima Buenos Aires’ showed us what is drawn from the hearts of the people who live in this city.

Part one: Decoupage of meat-man’s experience after the Guggenheim Supermarket has landed.

Part two: Son of affluent intellectuals falls in love with graffiti girl. (Aye, amor.)

Part three: Funny-scribbled characters are scrambling around the city, movin’ and shakin’ in tangoland.

Part four: All male characters are in lust with bar-keeps lover.

It was short and the sweetness was more tart (in a good way).

After the film, we decide to go for a beverage at my favourite spot in the city: the pub, Gibraltar, a reminder of comforts of home. It was busy with people, non-tourists, and the taste was a little different. Things change if you are around long enough.

It made me wonder whether this was the beginning or the end of something or, perhaps, some place in-between?

One pint and back on the bus towards the upper-West side.

The city was dark and vacant. I looked at my phone and saw it was nearly half-past midnight. It was somber and soothing to know that a city of this size, one that experiences the same waves of intensity that most cities have, can just be. The more I see it in its entirety, not just in fairweather, the more I appreciate its idiosyncrasies. Despite all that it may or may not offer, it has character and strength of soul.

Endurance, patience, and most importantly, amor.

here we go again.

05/06/2012 § Leave a comment

It seems like yester-year that I was last here. Oh wait, it was.

This time, I am prepared for a winter where there will be no snow, a sharp wind, and common calm that comes with colder months. 

“It’s different, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it is different, but I don’t know if that just the season or the context.”

Seasons are markers of change and I have always been told that change helps you grow, but what direction? Up & on? Expanding outward? Around in circles? Dizzy, dizzy.

For the first time in some ex-pats lives, they have been told to go back to their own country. 

“But, aren’t we all migrants?” she asks.

She told me how social progress was circular, like a Spirograph of time. No wonder why we think we are going crazy. Have you seen one of those drawings? 

Walking Carlota, an older porteno happened to ask,

“Why is it so calm in Canada, but so crazy here?”

I didn’t want to mention the news.

I notice the pets here, the ones with homes, are very proper. They delicately walk with bouncy grace, like a prance, a small dance on the spot. I keep my eye on Carlota because, well, she’s a ball of energy and force. Being from the streets makes me wonder whether she’s developed some challenges with belonging. It reminds me of Audrey Hepburn and ‘My Fair Lady’ and whether there is a moral or ethical debate in there somewhere. I would laugh-out-loud at her jump-flips into the air, but wondering if strangers’ looks would socially reinforce embarrassment. So, I keep a tight leash.

Is it age? Is it maturity?

I guess so. Or maybe after spinning around in circles, we find grace.

summer thrillz.

03/05/2012 § Leave a comment




trees and flowers and coffee.

because i can’t help but see the beauty in everything…

18/04/2012 § Leave a comment


We are moving. Two years of living in our Sheridan home has proven that time ebbs and flows. There would be restless nights spent laying in my bedroom, mattress still on the floor, listening for and hoping that the critters of the night would leave. Nibble, nibble…

There were all-nighters of dissent and discussion and bottles of wine. There were t.v. shows and movies and mornings with furry kittens. People would come and we people would go.

I try not to think about “moving” too much. It is something that I have done for many years and am quite reflective about it, hoping that each move tells me a little about myself and about my personal goals.

A home is more like a relationship that a transient space, unless you live in a hotel or a tent and even then, a little added personality can go a long way. I remember telling a friend that my concept of home was always centered around my parents’ couches, the staple furniture of our living room. Although they have been re-upholstered, they still carry the same bones that have held me up for over twenty-years. They taught me a lot, those couches, like how to sleep anywhere, how to fit two snugglers into a small space, or three bodies sitting, scrunched together — the comfort that comes from human contact.

Homes also come with memories. They are the places that most feel free to be themselves, to express their personality (through decor or dance) and to invite those that are closest to one’s heart. I guess the home becomes the heart, ingrained with all emotions (happiness, sadness, frustration and knowing that this, too, shall pass…). Sheridan allowed for these times to pass, through blood, sweat and tears and countless nights wondering. No judgments, just existence.

My room was the smallest, white walls and a few “continental” pieces of decoration. It had no closet and when the wind whirled, the walls shook. The window was above the balcony so my early nights in bed were not necessarily spent sleeping as I could hear the world going on below me. Still, every morning I would wake to some form of nature calling, whether it be the birds (cardinals and blue jays) or the choir of clouds at dawn’s break. Despite the rooms perks and flaws, it taught me about the things I could live with  (dryers turning, people chatting, critters nibbling) and the things I could not do without…

I need bigger windows.