End of a Decade, End of a Blog

This blog started in 2010, when I was about to turn 23 and head off to Spain to teach English for the first time. If you’ve been reading it since then – thank you! – you will have noticed that the number of posts I produce has declined over the years. It took me until 2019 to finish writing about a trip that took place in 2016, and I haven’t written about anything that happened since then.

My original goal with this blog was to replace the regular emails I had been sending to family and friends about my travels and studies. I have tried to maintain that spirit as I’ve changed along with my audience. Over the past few years, the nature of my exploration has changed from seeing what the world has to offer to finding my place within it. With that in mind, I believe it is time to retire Adult Under Construction.

This does not mean I believe the titular construction is complete, nor does it mean I am finished writing in general. Presenting my observations as those of a globetrotter without a care in the world has begun to feel odd, as my trotting became limited to Canada – admittedly, the second-largest country on Earth - and a few cares presented themselves here and there, to put it mildly. As we conclude the 2010s, the time seems right to post here for the final time. But I feel I at least owe you a summary of the past three years, so here it is.

In a previous post, I mentioned the fact that I would be moving to Edmonton, Alberta to pursue a relationship. That I did, at the end of the summer of 2016. I found a job in a restaurant while my partner studied at the University of Alberta. I enjoyed my job, and highly recommend that you stop at the Highlevel Diner if you’re ever in Edmonton.

The Menzies bridge over the North Saskatchewan River.

The Women's March on the Alberta legislature, January 2017.

Pyramid Lake in Jasper.

However, my traveler’s feet had not stopped itching. I had still not worked in my studied field of urban planning. I had doubts about whether or not it was for me, but I also realized I would never know if I didn’t try. I began applying for jobs wherever openings came up. Simultaneously, I began to feel less than content in my relationship. When I received job offers from opposite coasts, I faced the most difficult series of decisions I’ve ever had to make. I took a planning job in Victoria, British Columbia and ended the relationship that had brought me West. There is no such thing as a good breakup, but I did my best to reach that standard anyway. She and I have stayed in touch and I can happily say that she’s doing well in Edmonton.

Looking at the Olympic Mountains from Victoria.

Once in Victoria, things were all laid out for me. I was working in my field in a unionized position with benefits and a good salary. I earned a promotion relatively quickly and my work was generally appreciated. I was living in a picturesque city with an agreeable climate. My job included regular travel throughout the province of British Columbia, which calls itself “the most beautiful place on Earth”, somewhat justifiably. But I was screaming on the inside.

West coast sunset.

Fall near Lake Cowichan.

Getting paid to travel was all right.

I couldn’t exactly place the origin of my discontent, given the amount of change that I’d experienced in the previous year. Some of it was the job; my perception that I would not enjoy the 9-to-5 office life had been accurate. Some of it was processing what had happened in Edmonton. And some of it was feeling out of place in Western Canada. As 2017 turned into 2018, it was becoming clear that I was not long for Victoria.

I reflected at length before deciding to leave, as I did not want to bounce to a different situation for a change and encounter the same tumult again. When I’d been thinking of leaving Edmonton, I had been happy to find I had a strong support network of friends and family; I drew on it again in Victoria. I also saw a psychologist who was quite helpful. And I spent a lot of time on long walks trying to get clarity, thinking so hard I’m sure there was steam coming off me.

I kept thinking about the balance of time and money. In our many phone conversations, my Dad had told me this was a difficult thing to find, and it was likely I’d always have too little of one when I had enough of the other. I agreed. But then, I reasoned, time is effectively fixed. With enough time you can find ways to make more money, but there is no amount of money that will buy you a 25^th hour in a day. Given the diverse array of interests and talents that I have, it did not make sense to me to devote one third of my waking hours to a job that I resented.  

Once I’d hit that point of clarity, I needed to develop an alternative. In thinking of what would give me a better balance of time and money, I arrived at the conclusion that what I really wanted to do was return to Quebec and try to make a career out of teaching English.

I made a quick stop on the Icefields Parkway on the way home.

So it was that three consecutive summers found me relocating across Canada by car. At the beginning of August 2018 I loaded up a rental car and headed back to my parents’ place in Ontario, soon after to return to Quebec City. I’ve been living in la Capitale Nationale for 16 months now, with no plans to move. I occasionally miss the mountains out West – and my old salary - but I continue to be content with the decisions that led me here.     

And that, my friends, is that. Thank you for reading for the past decade. If you miss my occasional posts, feel free to get in touch or maybe come visit – I’ve got the time.   

P.S.: My time in Victoria included brief trips to Mexico and the Yukon. Here’s one photo from each.

Looking over the Yukon River in Dawson City.

Looking over Guanajuato.

Highway (and Airplane and Bus) Chile

I had grand plans for what I would write about my trip to South America last summer, and have achieved none of them. After that five-week adventure, I began another that was unlike any I’ve been on before – moving across the country to pursue a relationship. Adjusting to sharing my life with another person (and to life in Alberta) has been uniquely challenging and rewarding, and has moved the writing of blog posts a few steps down my priority list. So this post is less involved than I would have liked. But it is at least something, before the memories of last summer’s trip become so covered in dust as to be unrecognizable.

My time in South America began with a week alone in Santiago, Chile. Two classmates from Dalhousie would be joining me later. That gap was mostly a result of more ambitious trip plans that I had reduced, but it also gave me time to adjust to the new surroundings on my own. As the most experienced Spanish speaker of the three of us, I needed some time to revive my knowledge; as the instigator of this trip, I wanted to be somewhat comfortable before they arrived.

I had never been to Latin America, and despite my well-worn passports, most of my travelling has been in first world/OECD/developed countries. I’m ashamed to admit that I had something of a siege mentality for that first week in Santiago. I walked everywhere, partly to see the city but partly to avoid the challenge of taking the subway. I didn’t make much small talk. I think my worst fears were that Santiago would turn out to be like Marrakesh, the only other second-world/non-OECD/developing city I’d visited. It had been impossible to avoid hawkers there, and asking questions just meant being hassled for money before long.

My fears were baseless. Chile is (I believe) the most developed country in Latin America. I walked through crowds of people with no one batting an eye at me, most of them too busy on their smartphones to notice that I was not from there. Santiago is Chile’s largest city, but it’s hardly a tourist hotspot. That gave me a comfortable level of anonymity as I wandered around.

Each week of this trip deserves a separate blog post, but here are three highlights/observations about Santiago:

It’s mostly flat, but a couple public parks had excellent views of the surrounding Andes. Walking on Cerro San Cristóbal was particularly memorable for the chapel/amphitheatre at the hill’s summit; it was also there that I noticed just how many tourists to Santiago come from other Latin American countries.

A large area of Santiago’s downtown is pedestrianized, which made us three urban planners wet our pants with excitement. During business hours, the pedestrian malls were packed with people of all stripes: vendors, customers, people-watchers, chit-chatters and checkers players.

It was not until after I left that I realized how polluted Santiago is. It’s hardly surprising, given its glacial traffic. But I learned later that I had spent my first week walking through smog so dangerous that children and the elderly had been advised to stay inside.

After a week in Santiago, I was ready to move on when my friends arrived. Luckily, they quickly were too. We hopped a bus to Valparaíso, on the coast. It was one of the few destinations in Chile I was aware of before researching for this trip. Three quick highlights:

Valparaíso is made up of nothing but hills (42 by some counts). Therefore, elevators make up an important part of the public transit system. The elevators are old, still mechanically operated and are dirt-cheap to travel on.

Almost every surface in Valparaíso has art on it; murals are especially popular. There is a thriving arts community that benefits from the city’s tourist industry without catering exclusively to it.

Valparaíso is also a major port and the main headquarters of the Chilean navy. The port, the hills and the arts community made me think of both San Francisco and Wellington.

Our visit to Valparaíso was probably too short, but one of my friends was only staying for nine days, and sights had to be seen. In the most complicated travel day of our trip as a trio, we took a bus from Valparaíso to Santiago, another bus to Santiago airport, then a flight to Calama and another bus to San Pedro de Atacama. If you’ve heard of the Atacama Desert, you may know that it is the driest place on Earth. Being right next to the Andes and in the Atacama, San Pedro is in the middle of some pretty dramatic geography. We did our best to see as much of it as possible via organized tours. Three quick highlights:

Just west of San Pedro is la Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon). Reminiscent of Tatooine, it was an aggressive reminder that deserts are more than just flat sand and hot sun. In that extreme setting, it almost feels like you can watch geology happen. The wind was overwhelming.

The salt flats near San Pedro are among the largest in the world (Uyuní, just over the border in Bolivia, is the largest). A visit to el Salar de Atacama gave us the chance to go swimming in the saltiest water any of us will ever see, taste, or frantically wash off when it starts to crack skin. It was also freezing cold – it was winter, after all – resulting in this memorable picture.

We also got super high when we were in San Pedro. 4,320 meters high, to be exact. The Tatio geyser field in the Andes looks its best at sunrise, they said, meaning we woke at 4 in the morning to get there. The combination of waking early, altitude, and freezing temperatures made for a physiological roller coaster. Jumping in a thermal pool right when my feet lost feeling was a welcome relief.

After waking at 4 in the morning, we spent one final afternoon in San Pedro before flying back to Santiago. One of us flew home; the remaining two prepared to cross the Andes by bus. The journey we took on July 20, 2016 deserves its own blog post. Stay tuned.

Add llama to the list of animals I've eaten.