I went to a grungy guesthouse when i first got here in February, and it felt even more grungy because I had just left home and Canada�s mostly pretty clean, y�know? [Someone asked me, �how clean is Canada?� And I told her about how they used to import trash and scatter it all over the streets when filming movies in Toronto because the city was too clean to be believable as an American city.]



I took my last gulp of Canadian water from my nalgene and went to have a shower� and I had this funny reluctance to wash my hair in that disgusting bathroom. The memory of a long hot shower at home was so fresh and vivid in my mind� and the cold griminess just underscored the difference between my life here and at home.

Is this ridiculous? I felt like I was washing Canada out of my hair� I�d finished the water in my water bottle, and they'd lost my suitcases, and once I washed my hair, it would be final: I would have nothing concrete left from home on me. Only my memories, and I would be in India for another six months. I felt desolate.

*

I have now been back here for more than a month... They found my suitcases, and I'm still in posession of a few Canadian chocolate bars and some President's Choice chocolate chip cookies. It's not that I forget Canada, but I no longer have those vivid sensual memories to contrast with my life here. Just as well that I can�t remember the feel of crisp, clean wind on my face. Snowflakes melting on eyelashes. Sucking fresh air into my lungs.

I know... you think I'm idealizing it. It's March, and it's probably all grey slush soaking into your shoes. There is probably no trace of the pristine snowy fields and clear blue skies I'm imagining. You want to remind me that there's no romance left in winter when you've been cold for four months.

I know. But sometimes I miss it.

12:54 p.m. - 2004-03-20