It was difficult not to feel like in a remake of Sex & the City this week-end in Dawson City. I could imagine being in the skin of Carrie, swinging between my rational and emotional  self as always, surrounded by Julie and her romantism, Tracy and her excentric enthousiasm, and Kim-Mia and her serene strength. 4 professional women in their mid-thirties sipping martinis with names such as 50 below job, Spank my naughty ass (delicious) or Bloomer remover after the classy Cosmopolitan in the warm atmosphere of Bombay Peggy's, between each screening of the Dawson City International Short film festival.

 

 

Imagine an old-fashion ballroom, with about 150 uncomfortable chairs on which sits an excited crowd, among which many of the filmmakers featured during the festival. I could picture the first theatres that appeared in rural country, everybody singing along the soundtrack of one short film, clapping as much as needed to thank all the organizers and artists making the event possible, drinking a beer or eating vegetarian samosas during the screening. All the ingredients that make me feel like experiencing a small community's life, warm moments of community gathering punctuating the peaceful life of Dawson City.

 

It was funny to see some of its residents barely ready to welcome newcomers, grumbling an answer to my salutations, where they would friendly greet us in a few months. Winter is not even over, they will open their hearts as flowers will bloom.

 

The festival had an amazing variety of short films, from the most dramatic to the funniest, emphasizing esthetic or transmitting a message, made by filmmakers from all ages. As we had to vote for one film at each screening, it led us to long discussions about the films, that printed them more deeply into our memories.

 

Julie and I took a day out of the dark room to enjoy the beauty of Tombstone, as you can see on the pictures below posted a few days ago. It was really moving to breathe deeply in the middle of those majestic mountains, all alone, not even a single cloud to acompany us.

 

We were in our party mood on the last night of our stay in Dawson. In order to balance with this healthy snowshoeing day we tasted all the martinis possible before dancing on mostly awful commercial tunes chosen by a DJ that I don't congratulate, but who cares we were just into shaking our bodies to end this great week-end in the same electric atmosphere as it had started. When getting back to our B&B we had the beautiful surprise of discovering northern lights dancing above us, just extending the magic of the night. We couldn't dream better curtain-fall!

 

And as you remember in your favorite series, Carrie always prepared her weekly column, so it could look like this:

I remember my sister telling me about her most independant and self-confident girlfriend who could feel as vulnerable as a little girl, loosing completely her sense of humour and  literaly shrinking when being in contact with a handsom man, instead of using her natural charms to seduce him. I couldn't help but wonder why it is sometimes so difficult to be as natural as we are with our best friends when meeting a man we like. Is it that we put so much pressure on our shoulders, wanting to show what we think is the best of ourselves rather than just letting our nature be? A friend of mine I was sharing those thoughts with pointed out that we fear to not be accepted for who we are, and most of all we fear to see the reflection of ourselves though the eyes of the beloved one. Which would mean that people living a couple's life have accepted a part of themselves that singles still avoid or haven't found? This question might be simplistic, but taking in consideration that some life hazards lead to single life, it still can be meditated.

Après des heures de tri de photos, j'ai enfin réussi à vous préparer un concentré des milliers de sensations, d'odeurs, de paysages, de rencontres, d'émotions que j'ai vécus durant le mois de janvier, en Tanzanie et au Burkina Faso. Pas évident de vous faire partager tout ça en quelques clichés, mais la quantité n'a jamais été le meilleur des passeurs de messages, alors voici pour vous un petit récit en images de mon voyage. Si vous souhaitez que je vous en conte plus faites-le moi savoir, je me ferais un plaisir de disserter sur ce sujet!


After hours spent sorting my pictures, I finally managed to prepare a summary of thousands of sentations, smells, landscapes, encounters, emotions that I experienced last January in Tanzania and Burkina Faso. Not easy to share all this with you through a few pictures, but quantity has never been the best for transmitting a message, so here is for you a little visual story of my trip. If you want to now more details please let me know, I'll be happy to write more on this subject!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A friend of mine asked me to give him my impressions of post-Olympic Van[couver], wondering if this event had left some permanent marks (or scars) down here.

 

I came out of the airplane about an hour ago, and in the taxi that brought me from the airport to the hotel, I felt like I already had an idea on my answer to that. I've never seen such a concentration of Canadian flags in a small perimeter, hanging on restaurant, shops and apartments' windows.

 

I wonder, will Vancouver's population wake up one day like the population of the City of Grasse in the film The perfume? For those who haven't read the so-named book (by German writer Patrick Süskind) or film, this community has a massive orgy, for a reason that I will not mention in order to leave some surprise so that you can read or watch it one day. When they wake up and come back to consciousness, they quickly get dressed and go back to their routine, as if nothing had happened, probably wondering what brought them into such collective craziness. I can easily imagine that in the decades that followed, nobody ever mentioned this episode of their community life, letting it disappear from the common memories.

 

But let's get back to Vancouver, will people come back to their routine one day and discreetly take their flags down and hide them in the bottom of their drawers as if they never had been hanging out there, ostentatious? Or will they definitely adopt the US-kind of patriotism, and keep these flags up until they are torn by the next tsunami? The Olympics have finished a week ago, and I can assure you that the flags are still here, hanging all around. But the official decorations of the event are still around too, so I would say let's wait a few weeks to verify whether Van will come back to its polite, light-version Canadian patriotism or if the Olympics have definitely changed one of the Canadian society's characteristics.

 

Terence, a friend from Vancouver did witness patriotism during the games, but noticed that it all happened with a positive attitude. During the last hockey match for example, he said the Olympics staff was asked to stay nice with the Americans, even if Canada was winning. Yes, Canadians in their big majority are definitely nice people, they just can't help it, and that's what we love about them.

 

Let's check patriotism's definition: Wordreference defines it as inspired by love for your country. I'm not sure us Yukoners can blame what happened down in Vancouver those past weeks: aren't we the first ones to say how magnificent is our land, and how warm are our people, isn't that a certain kind of patriotism? If yes, than I can definitely say that I am part of it, apart from the flags. Overall I think Canadians always have been patriotic, but they're just less loud than their neighbors.