Finally. Finally, I got myself together enough to bring this blog from the past of France and Switzerland to the present of Victoria (if it doesn’t look any different to you, refresh your browser, favourites link, whatever). I have no excuses for the delay, well, apart from packing up my whole life, dragging it across the Atlantic to the Pacific, starting a new job, buying a condo, learning about all the B.C. wines, eating Asian street food, and so on.
While the web address remains the same, it is now called Victorious. Obviously I like the play on words action with the name of this lovely town. But more than that, it’s just how I feel at the moment. This, of course, is subject to change. One false move and I’m the proud owner of a blog called The Village Idiot.
Let’s just assume for the time being that I’m a genius who’s managed to somehow get a few things right. I’ve lived my foreign country dream, stumbled upon a career that feels like it was tailor made for me, held on to a partner who feeds me and puts up with me (no small feat that one), all in a town that continues to charm me every day.
Saturday past, I was making my way to Capital Iron, quite possibly the world’s wackiest and most wonderful general store. It’s four levels jammed full of everything from plumbing supplies to camping gear to all that’s needed for any chic cuisine. My walk took me over a small city bridge dangling above the ocean, with a view of what you see in the new header photo today. The glossy fat seal I see from time to time was swimming alongside one of the many tugboat taxis that criss-cross the harbour each day. A Harbour Air seaplane made a perfect splashdown, managing to avoid the moored monstrosity of a yacht belonging to someone with money to burn. I took it all in, breathed in the clean Canadian air, and thought this is good, this will do.
I stepped off the bridge, took a left toward Chinatown, which, thanks be to all that is holy, you can smell before you see (cue the drooling), and I was smack in the heart of downtown. People were popping in and out of boutiques with catchy, compelling names like Bliss, Suasion, Cusp, The Gap. People were sipping Earl Grey and munching on scones at an English tea room. Even more people were sitting at sidewalk cafés expertly winding great mounds of Chinese noodles around chopsticks—’twas glorious.
Then I found myself in one of Victoria’s many alleyways.
These little work/live set-ups were a revelation. I was too enthralled with the outside to go and see what was inside, next time. My long rambling point here is that France and Switzerland, places of endless beauty and interest, are yesterday. Victoria is today. And so far, today is very fine indeed.
Alors, if you are so inclined, welcome to the next stage of this blog. I know many of you joined to hear about la vie française, but if it’s Frenchy tales you’re after, I got nothing for you. Now if it’s goofy drivel from the edge of Canada you wish to find, then I’m your girl. Who’s in? Lurkers, come out, come out wherever you are…