This week has been one of the most interesting in a while; am I ever glad to have arrived! It was a busy, hectic trip and it involved busier, even more hectic planning. It feels good to finally have somewhere to sit down and write again.
For those of you who don't know me, it's okay, I'm new here. I'm a bit of an out-of-towner, being from Antigonish, Nova Scotia. Graduating out of a university out of my hometown, I've freelanced as a writer on the east coast ever since graduating, until this week.
I have to say that Alberta has besieged me upon first impression. It may have something to do with the fact that I landed in Edmonton, but life seems to have a quicker pace than where I'm from. I'm not too worried. I'm good at adapting.
The trip from Nova Scotia started as all great western sojourns should: at 4 a.m. in about five inches of snow, and with a negligible amount of sleep. The drive to the airport in Halifax was at first a frightful expedition through a veil of heavy, wet snow - something I've noticed a decided lack of here in the west, out of proximity to the Atlantic Ocean. From the halfway-point and onward, the snow managed to cut me some slack and let me get to my flight that left just as the sun came up unimpeded. Somewhere between dragging myself out of bed and climbing onto the plane in Halifax, it hit me that I was going to be really far from home, that I'd be a Maritime fish out of water (pun thoroughly intended) for the first little while. Something between sad sentimentality, happiness and my flight-or-fight instinct intermingled in my head as I watched my parents wave me off at the end of the passenger line. There's really no truer test of emotional fortitude than an airport-goodbye with your own parents.
St. Paul is the furthest west I've ever been in Canada, butting out London, Ont., for that distinction by a long shot. There's something to be said for how peculiar the phenomenon it is when I wake up at 4 a.m. or 5 a.m. as easily as I would have at 7 a.m. or 8 a.m. in Nova Scotia. Jumping back three time zones tends to do that to a person, I gather.
As a freelancer in the Maritimes, I've written a little about a lot. From car shows and automotive modification to marriage and financing tips for people looking to retire, there's little I haven't touched on; even in the short time I've been doing this. It was an adventure getting out to St. Paul, and I think it will continue to be that way, while I work here as the transplanted east-coaster that I am.
