THE ROCK (no, i don't mean the wrestler)

ST. JOHN'S, NEWFOUNDLAND
November 13th, 2004

HELLOOOOOooo TORONTO! (And Halifax, and Montreal, and Ottawa, and Niagara-on-the-Lake, and Calgary and Vancouver, and what have you.) I hope you are all well and feelin' fine and fancy. This finds me slightly chilled (in both the temperature and groovy temperament senses of the word) In St. John's. Which rocks. Newfoundland, so far: I dig it, man. It is coooo.

First of all, I guess I should confirm and/or spread the news: no, i'm not going back to the Shaw Festival next year. Yes, I will be in T.O. No, it is not the end of the world. Yes, I'm doing that show at Passe Muraille. No, I don't have an apartment yet. So, YES, if you hear of one (for Feb-ish) let me know. Now everyone can stop sending me hinty messages about what my offer is for next year (is that what all that hinting and winking in your email was about, Madden? - I couldn't figure it out for the life of me). And sorry, Mr. Schurmann, but you'll have to get some other sucker to write SNAG skits for you.....okay, I'll give it some thought, but I expect cash for that type of thing from now on.

Anyway, nobody who knows me well should be too surprised; as you all know, I am not very talented AND I'm notoriously difficult to work with. I'm just surprised that I flew under the radar for so long! My only real contribution to the company was shakin' my booty rather well at dance parties. And I'm told I'm still welcome to do that. (Collective sigh of relief.) Anyway, don't cry for me, Argentina. Or St. Catharines.

On with the show (this is it)....

Had a great final week in Halifax. Stayed a little longer (and a little longer and a little longer...) and didn't go until I'd caught some bands at the Halifax Pop Explosion. "How cute", you say? How cute, indeed. Some good stuff. Quite dug controller.controller (Oakey did not). Arcade Fire, who were THE HOT BIG THING are not really my style - I wish the eighties would go back where they came from, and curl up and die already - but they do put on a HELL of a live show. My favourite though, was an adorable little outfit from P.E.I called Two Hours Traffic. Pop personified: they were young, and cute, and had screaming girl fans (from Ottawa!) and everything. I even got to flirt with one of the boys in the band, who was cute as a puppy, and just as young. Spent the rest of the night hanging with boring old Oakey and boring old Daryl Cloran and boring old Matt McFadzean and old boring C. David Johnson (who are doing Three In the Back, Two Up My Bum at Neptune). Oh, I helped with the strike of the show in the space before them, so I was officially involved in two Halifax shows during my vacation. Gosh, I'm useful.

St. John's is little and pretty and smells good. One of the finer smelling places in Canada, as far as I'm concerned. It seems there's always a nice fire going somewhere, and the air is crisp and clean and oceanic. And, yeah, people are nice. Damned nice. They follow me everywhere, dashing garlands in my path and singing songs of love and peace and harmony. I woke this morning to the strains of a Catholic boys choir serenading me with "What's so funny 'bout peace love and understanding?" underneath my bedroom window. Annoying, really. I threw a shoe at them and told them to fuck off. I mean, it's nice to feel welcome and everything.....but you gotta draw the line somewhere. I'm from Scarborough, for god's sake.

I'm currently over at Charlie Tomlinson's house using his computer to send this off. He's Jessica Lowry's friend and worked with her on her production of Jewel (sorry Jess, I missed you by about two days!), and some of you know him from his teaching days at U of A and from other places, and he is officially my third Newfoundland friend! I can't count Nicole, cause she's not actually here, though I am getting warm friendly vibes sleeping in her bed. Sometimes a little too friendly, in fact. ("Hey, lay off me, vibes! This ain't that type o' party!")

Charlie and I met up last night and had a rip roarin' ridiculously decadent time. We celebrated your birthday in grand style, you'll be happy to know, Mom, moving from drinks at the good aul' Ship Inn to dinner at one a them real fancy-ass places (Ruby's, i think? Jeanie's? Somebody's, anyway....) for a way too expensive dinner, all the way from champagne to creme brulee. Ahhhhh, creme brulee. Happy birthday, Mama. I done ya proud.

My other St. John's friends (so far), I met up on scenic Signal Hill, where they actually live. (It's like its own little village up there, and quite wonderful. I was wandering around up on the hill (Beautiful! Spectacular! Astounding! I am not, for once, being ironic!) and met Denys and Ulricha out walking their dog, Lupin. They invited me for tea, and made sure to reiterate the invitation several times, so that I would know they weren't just being polite. So I wandered off for another couple of hours (Amazing! Breathtaking! One of the most gorgeous places I've ever been!) and then had to climb back up to their house from where I'd landed myself. I huffed and I puffed....

Of course, I wasn't entirely sure I'd find the house as they'd kind of gestured vaguely and told me to "look for the house with the curvy drainpipe" - maybe they were trying to ditch me after all - but I did. And we had a lovely chat, and I felt very proud of myself for resisting my snooty Toronto instincts and actually showing up. Ulricha (who is a cool lady who works in a dive shop) has gone to Germany now to visit family. So now I'm down to two friends. But Denys has invited me up to their cottage in Brigus (on the other side of Placentia Bay) if the weather is good and he decides to do a day trip there. Dogs and cottages - yay!

It's a funny thing (and I've encountered it before), but the nicest, most friendly people in the world will never hesitate to tell me how much they hate Toronto. Or how much they hated it in the four hours they spent there one afternoon on their way through... I know that Toronto is the place all Canadians love to hate, and I don't expect everyone to dig it by any means, but....well, that's just a little rude, isn't it, considering I've just told them it's my hometown? I just can't imagine people doing that to people from anywhere else ("Moosejaw? Hated it."). It's like they feel a personal obligation to knock me down a peg, let me know that my city ain't so hot. But, hey, I never said it was the centre of the universe. I'm the centre of the universe, everyone knows that. And I'm in St. John's!

Anyway, my babies, I'm off for more windy rocky goodness! (I brought the good weather here, by the way - it had apparently been nothing but rain 'til I arrived, and it was really mild my first few days.)

Oh, and for those of you (Michael) who want to know, I have thus far avoided all kissing of fish. And i think there might be a statute of limitations on getting screeched in. By the time Nicole gets here, it'll be too late for her to make me do it; i'll have successfully flown under the Newfie radar long enough that they'll have to let me slide. That's my theory, anyway. But what do I know, I'm from Scarborough.

Lots of love from me and The Rock (and yes, I mean the wrestler),

Lisa

haliPHAT

HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA
Oct 30th, 2004

Hola amigos y amigas!

Writing you from tropical Nova Scotia, where I am working on my tan and practicing my Spanish with the lovely locals (take that, Jamie Burnett.... you big Chilean looozer!).

Yes, my loves, I have arrived safely, soundly, and have in fact been here for a week but been too lazy to touch base with almost all of you..... sign of good leisure time - couldn't possibly type a word. Things are laid back and cool here, as usual.... I'm doing my best to fit in, but I own only one toque and not a single pair of hand-knit Acadian socks (Oakey has around fifty, I think.) Also, nobody here but me (and the occasional sad little goth girl) seems to have black hair. I feel conspicuously like a South American exchange student amidst all this wool and freckle and sandy hair....I went to see The Motorcyle Diaries the other day (worth seeing...and my boyfriend Gael is quite good in it) and felt like hugging the group of Spanish-speaking Latin-Americans in the crowd. ("Hermanos! Hermanas! You look....like me!") But I digress. What else is new?

Those of you who don't know what the hell I'm on about, I'm here visiting Christine Oakey, who is a Shawfest friend, until Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday or so (decisions, decisions) and then on to St. John's, Newfoundland for a month or so to laze around in the empty home of Nicole Underhay (another Camp Shaw buddy). Ahhhhh......unemployment. I mean vacation, vacation, dammit! I actually meant to do this! Newfoundland in November.....what was I thinking, you ask? I'll get back to you on that.

The train ride here was lovely.... I do recommend a big ol' long distance rail trip to those who have the time. Scenic and peaceful and all that. And I did the single bedroom thing (a tiny little berth about the size of my foot) which is great for someone like me who doesn't always feel like small talk....and who wants to stay up till 3am and sleep until I feel like it. Turning out the lights and watching the moonlit countryside slide by was absolutely serenely beautiful..... and there really is something about watching all of that track lay itself out before you that's conducive to taking stock, to considering where you've been and where you're heading (in the grand sense, I mean) and THINKING ABOUT LIFE in general. Also, I took some good pictures of my feet. Oh, and no intrigues on the train, Alison, unless you count THE MYSTERY OF THE INCREDIBLY DRUNKEN MAN. How did he get so impressively loaded? An hour into the train ride? How did the poor staff put up with him? And why, Inspector, wouldn't he SHUT THE FUCK UP? Again, lovin' the private berth.

Halifax has been ideal thus far. Oakey went into tech on her show (The Fighting Days, by Wendy Lill, celebrated playwright and Member of Parliament) just after I got here, so we haven't been able to hang out a ton (although we did spend Sunday in P.E.I. - hooray!). That means I've had a lot of time on my own to wander around, which is always fine by me. Since I was here last year, I don't feel a lot of pressure to do toooristy things, having already hit some of those; so I can just walk and explore and window shop and read and catch up on movies. And see some plays. And eat and drink. Oh, and work out - one week 'trial' membership at the Y: zero dollars. Ass of steel: priceless.

Shawfolk, circa 2001: had drinks with Joe Wynne the other day, who is great and about to release an album with his band, Aide de Camp. He told me the name of it, but it was something eminently forgettable. Obviously. I suggested something much catchier, of course.....which I have since also forgotten. And Sharry (Sherry? Shari? Shit.) Smith is in Oakey's show, and is wonderful, both in the play and otherwise. Good show. Went to the opening, and even did some unwitting schmooze. Oh yeah - I helped out when they were rerecording a sound cue the other day, so for the next three weeks in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, you can hear me yelling at a World War One conscription rally. (Look at me! I'm a big actor!)

Went for a long stroll through Point Pleasant Park yesterday, where I've never been (okay, Mom, maybe as a kid, but I don't remember that). It must be quite strange there for people who knew it pre-hurricane. It seemed quite strange to me. But still very beautiful of course, and an amazing way to spend a perfect sunny, blue-skied unemployed day. Staring out at the water seems to be a universal pasttime; you see people doing it all over the world. What are we all looking for out there? Anyway, I'm very good at it, and Point Pleasant is an ideal place for it. Another day of walking around and being quiet and reflective, which is actually what I am, believe it or not, when I'm not busy being so damn noisy. Any big revelations so far? Perhaps. Ask me about it some time. I did meet one person in the park, but that was creepy, heavy breathing guy (hobbies: pushups, stalking and staring), who thought I was "very eenterestink yunk lady". Which I am. I made it a point to be pleasant.

On the way there, I found myself on a side street, desperately needing to pee, so I invaded the campus of St. Mary's University (established 248 BC - God, I love the Maritimes....so old!) in search of a toilet. I was afraid that I wouldn't fit in with all the students (where were my sweatpants?!), but I had locked doors opened for me, directions given.... it reminded me of a time when Dean Carter and I, a year and two out of theatre school respectively, found ourselves wandering onto the U of T campus during frosh week. We were feeling at sea having no new exciting purpose to our lives in September after fifteen years of back-to-school, and were delighted that we not only blended in, but were given free stuff just for being there. I briefly considered sneaking back regularly for free lectures, but as it turned out, I wasn't really interested in free knowledge. Just free pizza.

Anyway, I'm off, dearies.... big day tomorrow running around screaming in the Museum of Natural History with Xine, and then off to see The Syringa Tree (starring Carmen Grant) at Neptune.... and then a tickle trunk hallowe'en party!

Do you love the fact that my stoopid mass email from stoopid Nova Scotia is longer than emails you get from people who are in Europe or Africa? Or do you hate it with all your heart and soul? 'Cuz that's okay, too. Either way, get used to it. It may be a long cold month in St. John's.

Happy Halifaxowe'en!

Love,

Leese