Exhibit 3: In-tune with the Hippies

When Exhibit 3 first made its appearance, I was so awed by its glories that I was determined to ensure that it receive the pinnacle of blogging gold-star treatment. Bells. Whistles. Stars. Exclamation marks the likes of which have never been seen outside an 11 year-old girl’s diary. But life, housing-hunts, and everything took precedence and the entry didn’t make it onto the blog before the astounding denouement of Exhibit 4.

And frankly, after that Exhibit 3 suddenly seemed a lot less awesome. Like Orbits after it had been on the market for a while (you know… the drink from the early 90s with the colorful bits stuff suspended throughout it).
Oh sure, Exhibit 3 is still pretty cool, just like Orbits – I mean, there’s stuff suspended through out it! and you can drink it! – but, I don’t know, something happens: the novelty wears off or something way more amazing comes along, like gel-candy in a tube or OK soda (remember The OK Manifesto? “It’s OK to be OK.” How do you compete with that?!)

I probably shouldn’t talk down my own blog posting in such a way. Hopefully, this preamble won’t result in a marked drop in readership…

And so, I give to you Exhibit 3:

The Saturday at the end of my first week in Ottawa had a ridiculously packed, down-to-the-minute schedule, enough to make the eyes of the most obsessive urbanite super-mom well up in admiration. Wake up. Hour bike ride to free Ayruvedic workshop. Followed by free yoga class in the park, as part of the Raw Food Festival. Followed by perusal of the oddity that is the Raw Food Festival. Squeeze in a few stops on the Westboro Artisan Studio Tour. Topped off with vegan potluck at community centre. Phew! And bonus points for making the hippies in Moncton proud.

Exhibit 3 begins simply enough with a bubbly redhead named Isabelle striking up a conversation with me after the yoga class. She’s joined by her boyfriend, Christian, and the conversation switches back and forth between French and English. When I give a brief explanation of why I’m in Ottawa (dance), her face lights up: she’s hoping to go to Concordia for their dance program next year. Nice touch, Universe. They ask if I’d be interested in going out dancing later, after the potluck. Well, sure, why not. And we do. And I have tons of fun. By 2am, I start to feel the magnitude of my day creep up on me and when they ask if I’d like to join them for the best Vietnamese food in the city (and that’s saying a lot because there’s a pho restaurant on every corner), I opt for a rain cheque. They drop me off, we’ll be in touch, yadda-yadda, the end.

The following weekend, I’m visited by the luminous Tracey Norman for rehearsals in preparation for performances in Toronto the first weekend of October. For those who don’t know her, T-Norm rocks! (Her nickname also rocks. Less cool is my equivalent shorthand: A-Grat. Sounds like a cross between agate and a gnat, and there’s nothing cool about either of those.)

After a very long day on Saturday, we find ourselves ravenous and still downtown at 10pm. What are a couple of hungry gals to do? Pho, baby! As we drive through Chinatown, it becomes painfully obvious that selecting a restaurant is thoroughly beyond either of our capabilities. We grab the first available parking spot and eeny-meeny-miney-mo the six choices within spitting distance. We pick a good one – though by that point, quality would have hardly mattered. I’m facing the register as we sit catatonic in a post-meal digestive fog. And I’m looking at this girl with red hair. Now You’re just showing off.

“Hi, Isabelle!”

“Hi, Ali! That’s weird…”

“I guess… although, I gotta tell you, not really for me these days.”

“I was just going to call you. We’re going out to this club. Wanna come?”

“Thanks anyway, we’re dead-tired.”

“OK. Hey, did you know this was the place we were going to take you last Saturday? Pretty good, huh?”

“No, I didn’t know, but that’s not the least bit surprising.”

***

Ps: Yoga outside = amazing! Beth, Sarah, Jane, and any other lovely yogis who may be reading this, two words: Yoga Garden. Every studio needs one.