Curiosity Roving : V.2 : Plainly Explained
Curiosity Roving
The Grand Adventures of Rose Goossen
V.2 : Plainly Explained
in which our hero crosses an ocean and descends upon the flatlands
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Greetings and Salutations!
Happy Solstice, Earthlings! It's the longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. My pagan ancestors would have celebrated this day with feasting, bonfires, general revelry, and all manner of superstitious ritual. Right up my alley!
For new subscribers, welcome welcome. This is Curiosity Roving, and it will be delivered to your inbox (or perhaps your junk mail) once a month until you unsubscribe or until I meet with some strange twist of fate that renders me unable to compose and send these missives. My vision for this newsletter is to provide a polished and personal update for all those who would like to keep track of or live vicariously through me as I gallivant around the world. I will tell you stories, show you photos, and give you tips. It's also possible that I will occasionally articulate some weirdo left-field voyageuse soapbox philosophy. I hope you will enjoy it.
take me with you!
I'm writing to you from my hometown on the Canadian prairies. I arrived here on June 12th, and I have enjoyed adapting to the slower pace of life in Gimli, Manitoba. I return here once every three years or so in order to visit my mother. When I landed, we drove north through the longest sunset in the history of the world. It was tangerine on one side and lavender on the other, azure at the top of the dome, with a straight flat cloud-coloured highway carved right down the middle. Arriving on the steps of my childhood home, I was shocked by the birdsong and the oxygen. After five years in an electric Asian capital, the spacious wholesomeness of this territory is literally a breath of fresh air.
Gimli is a small lakeside town with a population of about 3000 people. It began as a village for Icelandic settlers in 1875. They were inspired to emigrate by the eruption of the Askja volcano, which threatened the conditions of life in certain areas of Iceland. Approximately 300 people chose to undertake the risky sea voyage to the new world, where they were granted land along Lake Winnipeg by the Canadian government. Their village was named for a mythological place of beauty and protection. Gimli is still known as the capital of New Iceland, and hosts a festival every summer to celebrate Icelandic culture.
drama, drama, drama
It took some effort to get here. Since the first volume of this newsletter, I have made significant renovations in my life, mostly as it is reflected in my possessions. Nearly all of the instruments, clothing, books, and life support tools that were mine have now migrated to new homes. I owned a complete home studio for music production, and that has been reduced to a single Zoom H2 device. I even let go of the guitar that I carried around the world, which was effectively my wife from 2010 until 2015. It has been a season defined by judicious brutality, and although I still have one more round of tough selection to get through, I am lighter than I have been in many years, and it feels amazing.
I am also freshly funemployed! Taipei is a city for workaholics, and I assimilated. I was working even on my last day in town, but I have now quit all of my jobs save the freelance writing and editing work that I can do while traveling. It is such a strange and glorious luxury to face complete days without any obligations or appointments, and to make unpremeditated decisions about how to spend my time from one moment to the next. This is exactly what I had in mind.
I waited two years for this flower, but it bloomed
I come to Manitoba in order to be with my family, but there is also the important task of maintaining the tenuous threads of legitimacy that anchor me in the Canadian bureaucracy. That means my driver's licence, my bank account, my credit card, and my passport. All of these things are useful and occasionally require my attention.
On Tuesday, I roamed the capital city of Winnipeg, and paid a visit to both of my financial institutions. These visits never fail to inspire feelings of trepidation. I've been working internationally and off the books for all of my adult life, I haven't paid taxes since 2008, and the fact of my accumulated wealth is basically inexplicable. By inexplicable, I mean humble and harmless but probably a little bit illegal. I feel nervous just looking at a bank.
"homesick" after midnight
Thankfully, these experiences were pleasant. At my credit union, Athena was more interested in Taiwanese food than my source of income. I did my best to convince her to visit and to feast. And at the large national bank that controls my credit card, Sam posed a wide-eyed, grinning, open-ended question about "all the adventures" to be had in Taiwan. There was no one in line, and he had the most adorable hair wave and shiny earring, so I spent a few minutes explaining that alternate universe, detailing food culture, Chinese language, mountains, seas, opportunities in education, and the otherworldly safety. He wouldn't let me talk about politics.
So, curiosity in finance is alive and well! What a relief. May my novelty value always outshine the dark side of this fringe existence.
two exclamation points = this merits a paragraph
There's a current phenomenon in the local vernacular of using the word 'tap' to denote the possibility of scanning a credit or debit card without inserting it into the machine. It's a new upgrade around here, and any time someone uses a card to pay, there's an exchange about how the machine does or doesn't have 'tap'. Therefore, Sam and Athena also got a look at my Easy Card, a reloadable chip card that can be used to pay for just about everything in Taiwan, all with 'tap'. That's the difference an ocean makes. Winnipeg has just rolled out their first reloadable chip card for bus fare, called the Peggo card, but the concept of expanding that to access taxis, public bicycles, coffee shops, and convenience stores is still a long shot for this glorified farm town.
I had forgotten how friendly and familiar Manitoba people can be. To the two denim-clad old-timers in the Tim Hortons who entertained me when my laptop wouldn't connect to the WiFi, to the teacher on the beach who engaged me in a momentary debate with his students about whether or not a sandcastle outing counts as recess, to the man who took the opportunity to tell me he'd never had a Slurpee while we crossed the street together, to the mall employee who liked my T-shirt, and to the woman in the army surplus store who has Burning Man on her bucket list - I salute you. It's such a pleasure to be here.
Until next time, stay curious. -- Rose
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