Location: Voergård Slot, Dronninglund, Denmark (Nord-Jylland). November 2005.
Significance: This castle is located fewer than 10 minutes away by bicycle from where Chris and I lived. On our third day in Denmark, we rode out to walk the grounds. The story of Chris’ familial relationship to the surrounding territory, going back two or three generations, was most interesting. The history of the castle and its various “proofs” of being haunted were fascinating. However, this knowledge contributed far less to the experience than simply being there. We took in all of the details: The gardens, though simple (and off-season), were immaculate; the “hidden” sculpture that peeked through leaves in the brush that divided the gardens from the farmland recalled belief in the supernatural; the calm confidence of peacocks and waterfowl was elegant and soothing. The cumulative effect of the environment was thoroughly transporting. We weren’t pressured by an agenda, nor did we feel stress of any kind. We felt the sense of a new life beginning.
We’d hoped to visit the castle somewhat regularly, but owing to weather and eventually to the settling in of daily life, it never worked out.
Location: Kinkaku (The Golden Pavilion), Kyoto, Japan. November 2004
Significance: I must admit to being quite fascinated by the history and folklore of feudal Japan... what little I know about it, anyway. I always wants to visit Japan, and thought that it would be wonderful to do so after finishing graduate school. It never occurred to that I’d really have the opportunity, nor did I think I’d be lucky enough to go with Chris, but sure enough, we headed there for two weeks at the end of October 2004. We visited Tokyo, Hiroshima, Miyajima, and Kyoto. Given the short length of our trip, the fact that we were visiting friends, and the fact that I don’t like being rushed from city to city, I had not originally planned on Kyoto as a destination; however, a friend recommended that it would be worth going, even for just one day, so we did. I had no time to plan destinations within the city, and I am usually quite keen to do that – its part of the fun! While trying to find a copy of the public transit map, we stopped into a tourist office and were offered directions to “a very beautiful temple”. It sounded intriguing, so we decided to go. It wasn’t until arriving that I had a sense of just how extraordinary it was.
This photo makes it look almost as if we had a clear and nearly private view of the temple, but that’s not the case at all. This location was filled with so many visitors kept to a pre-determined route that we felt like herded cattle. However, it takes a fair amount of remembering to recall that because, when I look at this picture, I can almost pretend that we were there alone, and I can almost even pretend that we were inside. Clearly, this is possible because I’ve mixed other memories about the interiors of similar temples, tea ceremonies, and the ryōkan at which we stayed in Hiroshima.
At any rate, looking back on this place through the photo, I am reminded of the parallel histories of people throughout the ages. I know I’m romanticizing my impressions of this place, but if peaceful magic of some kind could ever be achieved, I imagine it would happen here. 
Location: Near the Wiwaxy Gap, Lake O'Hara, British Columbia. July 2003.
Significance: A few days before the end of my internship at the Banff Centre, I was invited to go hiking with some friends. To me, the word hiking implied walking through woodland trails so you can imagine my surprise when I was suddenly stepping from rock to rock well above the tree line. We walked for six hours with a short lunch break in the middle before turning around and heading back to camp. Apparently, we climbed over 400 m in elevation.
I’d never seen blues and greens the way I did that day. When we started, I marveled over the smallest springs, and as we continued, I became nearly speechless. Our walk to our first destination (the middle point, where we stopped to eat) was easy so I really hadn’t noticed how far we’d gone. It was only when John pointed upward and said, let’s take that trail back, that I started to wonder: can I actually do this?
It was July and the sun was beating down, so I could hardly believe that there was snow underfoot. When we started seeing mountain goats, I realized just how grateful I was for meeting the new friends with whom I was hiking. This small journey was not an experience I would have ever had the opportunity to encounter in my “normal” life, I was so happy to be there with them, and as the newbie, I think they were happy to hear my many exclamations. Can you imagine if I’d been a complainer? Ha ha!
As we climbed toward the Wiwaxy Gap, the rock face became steeper and less stable. We had to walk along scurried while facing the mountain, and we had to make a point of being quiet, lest we triggered falling rocks. This photo is taken near the top of the gap; the gap itself is much narrower. I’m so happy Sarah had a wide angle lens on her camera because not a single photo I took even begins to capture the majesty of the surroundings. I’m pictured as the tiny person in dark blue in the left corner.
Walking down was the toughest part... there was, like I said, very little stability and it was quite steep. At certain points, we had to crouch backwards and crab crawl. When we reached the tree line again, we started to feel our exhaustion from the heat, use of completely different walking muscles, and a bit of nervous tension, too.
Upon returning to the camp, we cleaned up, ate dinner, and played scrabble until it was too dark. When we returned to the Banff Centre, we each drew a page to compile a yearbook of our one day together. I still have it, although after moving about 9 times since then, I’m not exactly sure where it might be; however, thinking about this day has made me want to hunt it down =-).
I never did exchange emails with John, but I kept in touch with Sarah and Candice for a few months after returning to Toronto. It’s been a number of years since I’ve heard from either of them. I sometimes wonder if they have as significant a place for the memory of this hike as I do.
Location: King's Palace, de Grote Markt, Brussels, Belgium. March 2006.
Significance: On my first international solo journey, I traveled from Netherlands to Belgium in order to attend Saki’s opening at Netwerk galerij in Aalst. It was a two-day trip. On the first day I took a rain to Brussels, spent a few hours in the outskirts attempting to visit galleries [not-so-funny story there!], then took another train to Aalst. The next day Saki and I traveled together to Brussels. She had an appointment, but not immediately, so she walked with me to the Grote Markt and to the grand shopping arcade. When we turned the corner into the Markt, I simply couldn't believe my eyes. I don't even remember Palazzo San Marco in Venice being this opulent.
It was still rather early in the morning, but the place was humming with activity. Apparently, it's far more exciting in the summer. The smell of the place was wonderful: crisp, cool air met with plants and flowers, cafés setting up for lunch, chocolate shops, and waffle stands. I spent the day visiting galleries, checking out shops, looking at and photographing interesting architecture, and lingering over moules frites et un verre de vin blanc. I returned to that square several times throughout the day in order to see it in different light. I took this photo in the late afternoon -- in the early morning, the square glowed almost golden.
Traveling to another country alone was a good experience, and it made me much more comfortable to head out to other destinations over the months that followed. Still, travel is always more enjoyable when there's someone to share the marvels. Chris has never been to Belgium, so I'm looking forward to "taking" him there sometime soon. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees the Grote Markt for the first time.
Location: Funhaus Nightclub, Toronto. Summer 2006.
Significance: The specific location in this photo isn't what’s meaningful, but rather what it symbolizes for me.
I used to have a ritual of going to clubbing every Sunday. Well, true enough, I went more often at times, but Sundays were definitely a big deal. My friend at the time was close the DJ, so we arrived early and had the floor to ourselves for a good half hour. We’d dance from 10:00 until they kicked us out, or sometimes later when the manager decided to keep the place open for friends only. Over the years, I grew to know a great number of people just through seeing them each week. Eventually, I knew so many people that I’d go on my own because my group of clubbing friends were already right there. I spent the whole week looking forward to Sunday nights because dancing was the ultimate escape... from school and work, and from problems with my [now ex] boyfriend, etc. It was a chance to completely let go, to be consumed by the music, and to spin around in circles if the music called for it, or to just be silly because I bloody well felt like it.
When I got back from Banff, things were different. I was different. I met Chris and everything about my life was new. Soon enough, I wasn’t downtown on Sundays, but I didn’t seem to care. Around that time, clubbing related drama continued to unfold. I started seeing who my actual friends were, and I started seeing some of those people during daylight hours. I’ve developed truly lasting friendships (with various degrees of closeness) with those people.
At the end of that school year, I moved to Barrie for a few months, and then to Ottawa for a year. After that, Chris and I traveled for almost another year. When I got back to the “scene”, it had inevitably changed. Everything had a different vibe, and for the most part, I wasn’t too thrilled with it. When I go to special nights, it tends to fall flat... a weird vibe, jerks in the crowd, or the music just isn’t working. These days and I prefer meeting with people in places conducive to conversation. The downers to not going clubbing as often are that I drink more and get less exercise (:ha ha!:) but I have much more fun overall. I still have soft spot for blinky lights and disco balls, and I still love the music, so occasionally I get a hankering to go dancing. I can’t deny that I have a slight yearning for the “old” days of the scene, but I wouldn’t trade anything I have now for what I had then.
All that said, while going clubbing doesn’t mean a specific place, it always meant going to a place. Preferably a dark place with people dressed to the nines.
My favourite places to dance in Toronto were Catch 22, XitIIEden, Studio 69, Area 51, and [the old!] Velvet Underground for regular nights, and Reverb for special events. Bovine Sex Club used to be way too packed to dance (during its prime!), and while Savage Garden is still around, I never grew too attached to it. Too bad Matrix never really had a chance. I haven’t gotten into the swing of Neu+ral yet. The Mod Club had so much potential, but then it got popular. Ha ha! I never really went to Blow Up at the El Mocambo... I probably would have been fond of that. I also remember Limelight and Bauhaus. Before I claimed a scene, I remember checking out Oz, Power, the Phoenix, Whiskey Saigon and other places too embarrassingly lame to mention ;-) Ha ha!
Time for lunch!