There's no place like hem

I am writing now from a beautiful apartment off of Commercial Drive, a strip of health food stores, vegetarian restaurants and cafes west of Downtown Vancouver. Wonderful Eva, one of the Swedes I met the other night, graciously offered her apartment as she left the city yesterday for her home two hours north. It was a sad parting for me and Jennifer the fish - she of course stayed behind at the swanky hotel, but I feel like I've left the lap of luxury but won the lottery. Took some doing this morning, but enjoyed a round trip quickie ride on the *sea bus* over to North Vancouver to get keys from my future sister-in-law, and then the *sky train* out to my new home (transportation here is SO Sesame Street!)

Following that adventure, I had to scurry back into downtown for a full hour chat about DAUGHTERS on the Smiling Yogi's radio talk show over at the local Coop Radio (think WFUV - or WHRW for you Bingalings). I was daunted by the hour format but then we had so much to talk about that we even skipped the last PSA she was supposed to play. It was really a great hour of talking serious spirituality, which of course is not what I usually get to chat about regarding the film. Great interview, Farah, thanks!

Got back in time to see the second three astounding eps of Jennifer Fox's "Flying: Confessions..." which landed my new friend Sofia and I in a long wander around the city and eventual cafe stop engaged in a discussion of gender and identity. Did I mention it was a full day?

So now it's raining pretty hard, for a change, but I just feel so cozy sitting near the fireplace surrounded by the requisite Dalarhäst (the red Swedish horses) and Knäckebrod (read: Wasa Crackers) and yellow and blue painted viking figurines found wherever Swedes are housed. There's no place like hem.