I once mentioned that if it’s adventure you seek, you don’t need to go to Morocco to find it. Indeed, there are so many hidden treasures just waiting to be discovered in your own backyard. Henry David Thoreau said, “I have traveled a great deal in Concord”, which is interesting given that he was actually from Concord. Perhaps Thoreau understood something that many of us modern day bohemians could benefit from learning: travel is not a matter of location but rather, it is about seeing, about being curious, about having an open mind and a sense of wonder.
Last weekend, I was reminded of this fact. I met my friend Roma and together we went on a Spring walk across the city. We bundled up warmly as the wind was paralytically cold, then set out on a grand journey. We had a destination in mind but our wanton ways delayed us some. Our first stop, naturally, was the liquor store where we purchased a bottle of whiskey for the road and then we wandered downtown and a little further still, away from the sky scrapers and the noise of the city, into the industrial section. Drawn to a sign that looked like a fish bone, we found a bench in the sun just begging for a sit down. And so, we obliged for a while. Little did we know that this pause was about to plant silly notions in our head, from which would sprout an intense desire for adventure.
One minute, we were on our bench in the sun, rather innocently looking at the New City Gas Co. building, constructed in 1859 and long since abandoned. The next minute, we were exploring the outside of building. And before long, we were scouting the area in search of an entrance and trying every door in vain until we found one that opened (much to our surprise). We walked in with a tentative “Hello, is anyone here?” Our question was met with an eerie silence. So we walked up to the first floor where we found plants bathed in glorious sunlight (the kind that comes in diffuse through a dusty window), proof that the place wasn’t, in fact, abandoned. This might have encouraged one to leave the premises, but we chose to carry on (our reasoning being that if we bumped into someone, they might be able to answer our pressing questions about the place). On the second floor, we discovered a projection room in which a film was playing of a woman with blood-red rubber gloves, tangled in a mess of green thread. It was an old 8mm film. The music was somewhat sinister. We didn’t know whether to be fascinated or freaked out. The creepy feeling started to override our sense of wonder as we began to imagine the woman with the rubber gloves suddenly appearing behind us and chopping us to pieces with a cleaver knife then feeding us to the meat grinder. With goosebumps running up our arms, it felt like all the horror movies we’d ever seen and we were about to be THOSE GIRLS that go into DARK PLACES and say “Helloooo, is anybody here?” and then BAM! Blood and guts everywhere. Yes. Perhaps I have an overactive imagination, but I had goosebumps, people. Goosebumps!
(My apologies to Gypsy Girls Guide readers. I assure you this story is going the way of rainbows and unicorns shortly.)
So then we heard voices and found much comfort in that and asked the people if they knew what this place was and it turns out that it was a visual arts and media exhibit put on by University graduates and we were more than welcome to browse. And here we thought we were being such bad asses for sneaking into an abandoned building. Still. Cultural WIN!
We left the exhibit and carried on down Wellington Street where a man on a horse-drawn carriage heading back to the stable asked if we wanted a lift. “Hop on,” he said “This is Jimmy (pointing at the horse) and he weighs 2,000 pounds.” He and Jimmy took us 5 minutes down the road, then bid us farewell. We thanked them and continued on our journey to a little nature spot in Verdun. A haven outside of the city, by the water, away from everything. There was a field of reeds and I heard my first red-winged black bird of the season and spotted a hawk circling high up in the sky and a flock of robins in budding trees. We crossed the field and sat under a lamp-post by the highway and watched the traffic go by from above as we drank our whiskey and told stories of when we were children and how there was nothing more exciting than having big trucks and trains honk at you as you pumped your fist in the air and said “pooooo pooooo” (or choo choo, as it were) and just as Miss R. said that, two cars honked at us from down below and we were in hysterics and I said: “Isn’t it nice when you feel like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be in the world but right where you are?” And she said yes.
The sun was starting to set by now and it was time to go home. We hailed a taxi downtown and went back to her place where we ordered poutine and made a giant salad and watched Top Gear and I hadn’t laughed that hard in a really long time. And to think that we almost bailed on our walk that morning. What a shame that would have been.
Sometimes. A girl needs a bit of an adventure and everything else just has to wait.
How do you fit adventure into your busy life?
(Disclaimer: I in no way condone trespassing. I would never deface public property or violate someone’s personal space. And I do understand that certain places are boarded up for reasons of public safety and that I am entering at my own risk…. but heck if I wasn’t born with an insatiable curiosity. Something I get from my grand-mother Lambert who used to (and still does) scout out abandoned houses and cemeteries in Michigan)
