I was so embarrassed that I missed your party

“It was me that paid for it, eventually” –Belle & Sebastian

I love being 30, I really do. I’m an age snob and I always think it’s better to be me than to be anybody else, in that sense. But today, my thirtieth has definitely been weirder than I expected, or hoped. A little sadder, to be honest. I think I’ve inherited my parents’ over-sensitivity and, against all logical beliefs, I kind of wish even strangers made some kind of a big deal over this special occasion. Like, don’t they know whose birthday it is?

Ridiculous.

Mi primer saludo me lo dio un niño con el que estoy saliendo, que muy amoroso me trajo una vela y un plato de su helado favorito anoche, luego de hacerme una lasaña vegetariana y que viéramos Garden State. Amoroso.

Me acorde inmediatamente de ese cumpleaños hito cuando vivía con la Chi-k quien, habiendo escuchado mis historias de como mi mama solía despertarme con desayuno y regalos, me despertó con un desayuno de mi postre favorito: pie de limón. Eso es cariño no? Y esa misma mañana me llamo el Pato desde Paris para saludar. Es mucho pedir que la gente se acuerde de uno ese día?

It’s so weird that of all my recent birthdays, this one should be the most low-key by a long shot. All the years that I’ve all-out produced my birthday parties, I’ve wondered what would happen if I didn’t remind people a zillion times that the special day was coming up. The good news is: a lot of them remember. I’ve gotten emails and msn messages and even a couple of phone calls (both from Chile: Pablo and my brother so far). May all my wishes come true, and it’s so nice that I can’t bear to tell anyone that I don’t believe in wishes. That’s how jaded I’ve become, haha.

Ridiculous.

So, whether I like it or not, jot another one to memory. It just so happens it’s 30 this time. You know? The ones I remember most clearly, like the lemon pie one I described above in Spanish, or that time we went to Midget’s Palace, which was, like, my ultimate fantasy, or the first year I celebrated bigtime at Blondie’s, I don’t know how old I was turning. I can guess but I don’t know. It didn’t matter. Let’s bring back those days.

And thanks for the ice cream, Chris. Sorry I talked all over the movie. I do that.

el eStrip

Asi que como la vez pasada les debia un post en espanol y no lo hice, pido disculpas y me pongo al dia con NUEVA informacion acerca de Las Vegas! Wuju!

Ya. Sarcasmo aparte, les debia este cuento.

Anoche sali a caminar por The Strip, la calle principal del Las Vegas de los turistas. Ahi donde estan todos los casinos famosos, las fuentes de agua, las luces de neon, etc. El resto de mis companeros de oficina fueron a una cuestion de Star Trek, en que estas como en una nave y te sacuden y te persiguen unos monos parece. No se. No me interesa. Y por US$34, menos. Asi que yo sali sola a caminar por el estrip, a ser levemente acosada por mexicanos ofreciendo tarjetitas porno y quien sabe que mas. Justo me perdi del volcan que explota afuera del Mirage cada 15 minutos, pero vi las enormes y movedizas fuentes de agua del Bellagio, donde tocan a Celine Dion super fuerte de fondo como acompanamiento. "My heart will go oooooon!" Celine tiene un espectaculo en ese casino que es el mas cuico de todos los que visite. Adentro todos tienen tiendas pero este tiene Prada, Chanel y Dior. Con un poco de miedo a que me echaran por pobre, en mis pantalones de cotele Gap y mi pelo EVIDENTEMENTE no de peluqueria, entre a Prada. Toque la ropa. Que miedo. $300 cualquier cosa. Nada en oferta. :(

Mucho sombrero de cowboy en The Strip. La gente...principalmente hombre ahora que lo pienso... caminando por las anchas veredas con sus latas de cerveza en la mano. Un par de homeless. Un borracho balanceandose de un lado de la vereda al otro, chocando con un turista y diciendole..."Feel the love.... in the butt!". Ya.

Asi que anoche supongo que vi un poco mas el lado Vegas de Las Vegas. Entre al Mirage, al Ceaser's Palace, al Bellagio y al Paris, donde tienen una torre Eiffel que puedes subir por $9 (no lo hice). Vi un tigre blanco en el Mirage. Subire las fotos una vez que vuelva a Montreal porque no traje mis cables para aca.

Extranamente, a pesar de estar en U.S. of A. aca se puede fumar. Adentro de los casinos y los bares y en la calle. Nunca habia olido tanto habano en toda una zona de una ciudad.

Tome mi primer Bellini, un trago no muy comun inventado en un barcito italiano el siglo pasado, con champana y duraznos. Como yogurt con alcohol. Yummy.

Manana al mediodia se acaba esta conferencia y el viernes tempranito regresamos a Montreal. Me muero de ganas. Ya quiero volver a casa, por fin.

Viva

Viva Las Vegas.
It's not at all as horribly tacky as I envisioned. And everyone who said it's full of old people was just lying. There are actually people of all ages here in sunny, mild, Vegas. And they're not all fat either! Amazing!

The shopping is in-credible. There's a store called Anthropologie -apparently a chain in the States- with the most beautiful dresses and blouses and houseware. It's heartbreaking how beautiful everything in that store is. And I can't buy it. Note: if I could put EVERY SINGLE THING on this post in capitals I would, that's how enthusiastic I am being about Vegas.

Fan-tabulous!

My hotel suite, which I share with Mini-Maude, is bigger than my new two-and-half (note to non-Montrealers: i.e. apartment) although it DOESN'T have a balcony like my place does, so phooey. Nothing is really free in Vegas. The whole world seems to revolve around money, but in an oddly casual way that doesn't bother me at all. I was worried about gaudiness and money money money in your face sort of thing, but I haven't seen it.

I'm in a hotel "resort casino" called The Venetian, which has an indoor Venice with shops (what else) and a canal and gondola rides! With singing gondoleers! Are you kidding? I'm not! hahaha.

I guess this is what always happens to me. As soon as I think "this is never going to happen" (i.e. "I'm never going to be a journalist" "I'm never going to be a writer" "I'm never going to like a place like Vegas"), it does. Never say never is my Life Lesson for this month.

Oh, if you could see Vegas... you would love it too.

I have not seen a single wedding chapel. I have not gambled a cent. I have not seen Elvis or any Elvis impersonator(s). Paris Hilton might be in town, but I wouldn't know it.

* * *

My new apartment is ready for me to move in as of January 28. It's a cute 2.5, which means it has no closed rooms. You walk in a hall which doubles as a kitchen. Minimal. Bathroom off that hall. Cute. Small. Past this short hall is a double room which is my entire apartment. So I'll have my "bedroom" in one half and a sort of "living room" in the other half. There's also a balcony and all of this looks over the sunny side of Montreal, which is key when you live in winter for half the year. Honestly, people go nuts here come February -I've seen it happen- so I do what I must to keep apparently sane.

Unbeatable location, less than a 15 walk from work. Close to friends, close to the nightlife. But not *too* close.

I get to save money and therefore can start doing the smart thing and invest in my RRSP, which is the Canadian pension plan, I guess. Smart girl I am.

Coming up: I turn 30. Everyone pays attention.

Leaving Santiago, Never Easy

So I'm back. I wish I could make "back in the USSR" turn into "back in Mo-o-ontreal" but it doesn't seem to work that well...

Chile was incredible. Much more than a vacation, it was like a personal voyage into the past, towards the future. Craziness. That city is insane. Everyone is running around at 120 km/hour, giant buses swerving every way, cars speeding down residential streets, trucks, people, people, people. Montreal is so tiny. There's only 1.8 million of us on the entire island! A few statistics:
+At it's longest and widest, the Island of Montreal is 50km by 16km.
+Total surface area is 482 square km.
+Latitude 45 N
+There are 75 islands within the City limits and 380 islands within the entire metropolitan region.

And just so you know exactly *how* cool Montreal is, the Plateau Mont-royal neighbourhood is ranked "4th hippest" in North America, just after Williamsburg in Brooklyn. This according to some people called Utne Reader, whoever they are.

Anyway, joking aside, I'm happy to be back home, but leaving Santiago is, in fact, never easy. I used to describe the city as a black hole, a thing with a huge suction power that would just totally obliterate your longing to go anywhere else. My mom says people there are living in a dream and I should be careful not to wake them. This is a very smart thing to say because I am constantly waking people rudely. It's an Aquarius-rebel thing.

Santiago was a love-fest. I went to see old friends and family and I was treated just splendidly. Everyone was warm and friendly and it was a great opportunity to really see who my friends are over there. I think time and distance can do funny and weird things to relationships and seeing as I put a heavy value on loyalty, it was wonderful to see who was really there for me.

So what did I do? Mostly I want to keep the memories and I'll show the pictures later, but en bref I went to a lot of lunches, sat at the pool a couple of times (not enough), slept over at my grandmother's (a highlight), had dinner with friends and saw the fireworks downtown for New Year's. Also played dice until 9:30am. Saw people I hadn't seen in over 2 years. Saw people I saw just a few months ago in New York. Had pisco sour every day to make up for lost time. Went to Providencia too many times (shopping district like downtown Montreal). Had a few very necessary and key conversations. Saw all my babies. Stuffed a few of them into my suitcase to take home with me... ;)

Although the most memorable thing about this trip for me will be those key conversations that opened or closed relationships, I didn't come away with everything resolved. Some stuff is just a lot harder to deal with. Without getting too personal on a public blog, I can say I had ...I *have*... issues with conservative views on life and love. I'm big on tolerance, but how do you incorporate intolerance in others into your life? I don't want to be liberal fascist like *some* people I know, but... I don't know.

So now I'm back, happy to be home, loving the snow, hoping to keep up the good spirits into February and thereby avoid that freaking-out period everyone seems to go through due to lack of sufficient sunlight! I'll be leaving for Vegas this Friday, for work. One week. Of course, they say it's snowing in Nevada... we shall see. I'm also hoping I can meet up with my friend Andrea and her family in Philly or New York at the end of February-beginning of March. Maybe just a weekend, you know?

Next plan: get an apartment for February 1.

Coming soon: I upload 160 pictures onto my website: www.isabelbrinck.net

See you all. Don't make resolutions yet. The year of the rooster doesn't start until next month!

Pre-Traumatic Stress

I warded it off until now. Now it is here. It is... Christmas season stress. Travel stress? Moving stress? Say to yourself Isabel: you will not exaggerate this tale. Again.

So I pretended I didn't need to buy anyone Christmas presents... until now. Now I realize of course I have to buy people gifts, and now I don't have time to. But my mother came up with a bright plan for saving $$$ and time, so I'll be spending some time at Pharmaprix...

I came in late to work today. I was out until 5am, my only partying of the season so far. It's amazing how much money is spent going out and I re-realized this precisely because I haven't been going out to save. But last night was trylu exceptional. It all started simply enough, with Hilary's dad's annual cocktail party. I just had some white wine but I could tell, by the way I was talking to Tara, that I was over-excited and THIS could be dangerous. I was right.

This boy Chris who was also there last year was telling me he plays in a ska band that just toured Europa. Kind of funny since I saw the prior encarnation of this band -the Kingpins- play at Metropolis during Jazz Fest 2000, the year all I saw was ska. Chris seems like a very nice boy of a non-specific age. He's actually turning 23 the day after Christmas, but I found that hard to believe. I mean, one of the first things he was talking to me about was how much he wanted a baby and as soon as possible. Not very 23-year-old of him, I guess. But, hey, he's a Capricorn, what do we flaky Aquarians know about them? Nothing! :)

After the cocktail party I took a cab (see where the money goes?) to Honey Martin's to see Shane play and meet with Anna, Fred, Button and Nick, basically for the last time before my trip. You know what? It's definitely when I don't have a plan that things tend to get out of hand. And I had no plan. So I ended up staying until 4 and then we went to Dad's Bagels and ate and then took a cab and I got home at five.

I left a stupid excuse email on my boss's voicemail but this morning I felt so terrible about lying to her that I told her the truth. Eventually I felt a lot better. She said I could have just told her I'd had a big night out and would be coming in later. Which is cool. This company is clearly more relaxed than Events...

So tonight I have to finish packing.... this is neverending. The movers will be here tomorrow at 9am. Thank goodness my dad is helping because I don't know how I would pull it all together otherwise. Tomorrow after the move I go to Jenn & Nick's old apartment for the days before the trip. I can't even fit everything into my suitcase and I still have more coming... I might have to actually use both cases instead of carrying one inside the other. Muriel, you're terrible.

What else? Aside from this pre-traumatic stress I'm happy and excited about visiting Chile and seeing everyone. It should be a great time. My positive reinforcements to myself seem to work. i'm ok, you're ok. Self medicating therapy. Tra-la-la. I'll be having fun in the sun, where will you be?