About Janice Hillmer

Writer, grad student, traveller, accidental humourist and unwitting adventurer.

Adventures in Going Home (I)

Posted on October 12, 2013 by Janice Hillmer

I went home in August.

Well, I thought I did, but when I sat down to tell you all about it, I realized I might not have gone home at all.

Believe me, that revelation came as quite a shock – especially since I know I didn’t imagine the gazillion hours on the plane, or the bored-looking customs officer in Toronto glancing at my passport and saying, “Welcome Home.”

I didn’t imagine walking out into the arrivals hall at the airport, and it certainly looked like home: all the signs were in English and French; middle aged women were milling about wearing pastel coloured capris, showing just a bit of tannless ankle above their running shoes; I could eavesdrop on any conversation I wanted, because almost everyone was speaking English.

When my wonderful cousin Karen met me for lunch during my layover, she took me to a restaurant that had more than one variety of poutine on the menu…and I didn’t have to serve myself drinking water out of a bucket…and when I used the restroom, I didn’t have to take my own toilet paper with me, because it was included!! For free!!

I was definitely in Canada – and gloriously happy to be there. I was excited to be spending the month at home. The problem was, I’d been tossing that word around all willy-nilly, and using it with reckless abandon without taking time to consider what it really meant.

The next four weeks passed in an utterly delightful whirlwind of beloved family and friends as I drove, flew, bused and ferried my way across Canada. I ordered a medium double-double at every Tim Horton’s I came across…not because I wanted one, but because I could. In a moment of wild abandon, I tried to hug the cheese aisle at the grocery store, but my arms weren’t long enough. The cheese aisle returned my affection by delivering this delicious 3-in-1 cheese, which was perfect, because I couldn’t decide which kind to buy:

Thank you, cheese aisle.

In short, I had a wonderful time. I was thrilled to be in Canada…and judging by this heartfelt welcome in the prairie sky, Canada was happy to see me too:

I love you too, Canada.

In fact, I had such a good time, it wasn’t until I was <ahem> back home again in Chiang Mai that I realized something:

In the entire month I spent in Canada, I never once set foot in a place I’d ever lived before. I never saw a school I used to attend, or a yard I’d built snow-forts in. I didn’t drive down a familiar road, or visit an old hang-out. I didn’t bump into an old classmate at the mall, or wave to a former neighbour.

That left me wondering, did I actually go home?

Some people stick to the old adage, Home is Where the Heart Is. (C’mon, admit it. You totally pictured that embroidered on lacy pillow when you read it, didn’t you? …right?) Some people, myself included, prefer the more practical, Home is Where Most of my Underpants Are. (Now picture that embroidered on a pillow! You’re welcome.)

It’s a wonderful blessing to have so many people and places around the world that make me feel like I’m at home…I’m certainly not complaining! But the next time someone asks me, “Where’s home for you?” I think I’ll just change the subject, and ask about their favourite type of cheese.

Where’s home for you? And why?

Adventures in Grocery Guesses

Posted on September 13, 2013 by Janice Hillmer

My house is a strange place to be on a Friday night.

I’ve never seen the appeal in going out and whooping it up, just because it’s Friday, (The fact that I just used the phrase “whooping it up” probably already tells you so much more than you need to know), but once in a while, I feel like I should at least acknowledge the fact that it’s Friday night.

Sorry…let me pause here. I also feel like I should acknowledge the fact that I haven’t posted in over a month. So let’s just get that cleared up right now. I was on holiday…and now I’m back from my holiday with lots of things to say…but I’ve discovered that blog posts take so much longer to write when I actually think about what I’m writing.

(Hopefully that same thinking + writing = time problem won’t decide to rear it’s ugly head as I finish writing my thesis…)

As I continue to process my holiday, and work on a few ‘thinky’ posts, I’ll use this Friday night to get back into the swing of things. I thought it might be nice to start with a little quiz. A grocery quiz. You see, when I was doing my undergrad, I loved doing my grocery shopping late, late, late at night for two reasons:

#1. I loved gliding down the empty aisles using my shopping cart as a giant cumbersome scooter, with my midriff balanced on the handlebar. It’s best to do this in the cereal aisle, not the jam-jar or garden rake aisles. Because, you know, safety first and all that.

#2. People shopping at midnight buy some weird stuff. I liked trying to come up with stories that would explain why the middle-age woman in front of me was buying baby powder, jumper cables, and a can of peanuts…or why the 20-something man behind me was buying 3 bags of dried lentils and a box of toaster strudel.

This where you, and the quiz, come in. As I mentioned earlier, I like to at least acknowledge that it’s Friday night. I feel like I should do something different. I should learn something new…or better yet, I should learn something old. I should resurrect some long-forgotten skill of my ancestors. Like the Friday night that this happened.

Tonight’s adventure included a late-ish trip to the grocery store (sadly, none of them are open 24-hours here) and these items:

In case the picture isn’t clear, that’s 7 litres of milk, 1/2 a litre of buttermilk, 2 bottles of wine, 2 mason jars and a stack of disposable metal bowls.

What’s happening at my cottage tonight? Leave your guesses in the comments below!

Adventures in Mud, Floods & Buds

Posted on July 27, 2013 by Janice Hillmer

I stink.

I smell like I doused myself with some kind of swampy, muddy, sweaty, buggy, mysterious eau de drainpipe.

… Sigh, okay, I can’t lie to you…

I did smell that way – about 1/2 an hour ago, before I took a shower. But really, who starts a story by saying, “So, I smell kinda normal”?

I also didn’t want you to go on reading this entire post thinking that my blog is more important to me than things like personal hygiene or basic cleanliness. I mean, I really like you and all, but first things first, okay folks?

To re-cap:

1. I don’t actually stink (at the moment).

2. I can’t maintain a convincing lie for more than 2 sentences.

3. My blog ranks somewhere below soap but above dignity on my personal priority scale.

Now, back to my story. You might still be wondering why I was smelly to begin with. If you are actually still wondering that, then you didn’t read the title of this post very carefully. It’s kind of a big clue. So is this picture:

Anyone up for some living room Slip’n’Slide?

It’s prime travel time around here, so some people are Eleventy Thousand kilometres away (that’s about Eighteen Billionty miles for those of you who have trouble converting imaginary numbers). Meanwhile, it’s been raining pretty heavily, and the canal has also decided to take a holiday, and made itself at home in a friend’s vacant house. And really, a canal is a messy house-guest to begin with, but when it invites the shady friends it met in the Ditch & Drain to join the party, things get pretty gross pretty quickly. Especially when they get the munchies and raid the fridge:

Canals will eat anything…except honey & ketchup

You may remember a few weeks ago, I posted about the downsides of living in a transient community far from home. This week, I was reminded of the upsides. Within a matter of hours after the flooding was discovered, a group of people hailing from at least 4 different countries descended on our absent friend’s empty, squishy, soggy, smelly house. Everyone armed themselves with hoses, mops, squeegees, and ridiculously huge smiles.

Is there mud? Then it’s a party.

As we all worked together, it was great to see that being part of a supportive community isn’t dependent on geography, nationality, or even close proximity. It was also really great to eventually see a clean floor:

A job well done

It was a long, dirty day – and I was glad to be a part of it. I might smell awful, but being surrounded by people who care for and support each other in practical ways is pretty sweet.