I am feeling a bit border locked as my passport (with my brand new US visa) is being held hostage by the Canadian postal service.
Apparently it is something called “Easter weekend” and because of some guy who partied so hard on a Friday his friends thought he was dead until Sunday (religious joke…eyooo) I am stuck in British Columbia until everyone decides to go back to work on Tuesday, full of chocolate and hot cross buns. #damnholidaylovingcanucks
It’s hard to be mad about this situation though because a) I love Canada (permanent resident what-what) b) the West Coast of Canada is utterly breathtaking (I LOVE you Toronto – you will always be my second home…but HOLY SHIT you guys have you been out west?!) and c) it gives me an opportunity to hang out with my little brother Kipling.
For a family as spread out as we are (Los Angeles (yay!), Kelowna B.C, Hua Hin, Thailand, Perth/Bergerac, France) we really do love spending time together, and we take the opportunity wherever we can (even Visa runs/hostage situations).
Sometimes (often times) I feel like a bit of a weirdo because of the amount of places I consider “home”, and due to the eclectic way my family is made up, especially the personalities bursting out of two combined last names.
But with my little brother Kip, I feel like I can let my true self fly. We reminisce about things that to outsiders must seem like utterly bizarre-o experiences.
My parents clearly had a fascination with Asia, born not only from the need to move where the work was in the 90’s/00’s but also to chase adventure (thanks for the Itchy feet guys). Even now, my Dad (who is very happy with his life in Australia/France) tells me he daydreams about packing it all in and moving somewhere random like Manila. It is inspiring (slash terrifying) to know that even six decades into your life, the allure of the uncertain will always be there.
My Dad was especially a fan of Japanese culture, with tea ceremony rituals, Bonsai tree’s (“crippled trees”), coy ponds and Japanese art/architecture. Maybe it was the stoic masculinity and quiet appreciation of ritual in the Japanese culture that drew him in (so lacking from his children…eyooo).
On our beautiful drive yesterday, Kip and I reminisced about being dressed up like little Japanese weirdo’s, and thanks to social media “memory” functions, this beautiful photo came to light at a timely time (and I happily share it with you).
I’d like to say that this was a one off type situation, but that would be a lie – as you can see from different outfits I am
I feel like my grandchildren are going to be mega confused by these pictures:
“Nana…you were a geisha in Ancient Japan times?”
“No my sweets…your Great Grandpa was just a little quirky”
So happy Easter “ya’ll” – I hope it is filled with awkward family photos and memories.