I walked out from my hotel this morning, turned right and was at the dock in Hobart. Which is odd given that I’m staying at a haunted hotel two streets from the heart of Kings Cross. For just a moment, the glimpse of the water against the rustic dock near Harry’s Cafe de Wheels gave me that Hobart feeling.
I keep little mental snapshots of my travels for moments of stress. I don’t get the gig I was hoping for and close my eyes for a moment and see the Rockies from a Vancouver street. A friend lets me down and I go to Bryant Park in New York and look up from the ice rink to the buildings set in blue sky above. The best ones happen by accident though. I walk past a Brissie bakery and smell NY pretzels. Today I looked up at an old building in Sydneytown and was at Melbourne Town Hall walking in to do Raw Comedy many moons ago. The smell of cooking lamb takes me to Glasgow. Must be a haggis flashback.
I keep my friends with me, too. I see a pretty woman dance for the hell of it without music and I see Deweez. A dirty, full and gutsy laugh makes me think of Katherine. Tall men in suits with dark hair make me want to hug my hubby. Melora miaows from porches all over the world. You’re all there. Somewhere.