It's Monday night, I'm back in Ottawa and in a wonderful mood. Sometimes, you have to leave to remember what you love about home. It's not that Montréal sucked - Montréal was Montréal, perfect in its imperfections - but it just lacked the vibe I usually like when I go. And in the lackluster visit I found a bunch of comforting realizations about what's here for me right now.

In my opinion, it started on a hilarious note, and in Manon's opinion it was maddening. I had trouble running towards the train station on Saturday morning because the laughter rippling through me was making my arms weak and preventing me from holding my duffle bag properly. Manon was yelling "Run Camille, fucking run!" in hopes that I would be able to stop the train from leaving without us. Up the concrete stairs I went, flying across the front entrance, trying not to trip on my hysterical feet. I saw the blurred faces of strangers, looks of confusion, surprise and annoyance as I screeched and giggled on my way to the check-in counter. Then I saw the sullen, bored Via rep who gave me a disapproving look before saying, "You missed your train, it just left," in a flat voice. A breathless "Oh..." and suddenly I was stopped, stuck between the remnants of laughter and growing sheepishness - Manon would soon find out our fate, and after all that rushing! Indeed, she wasn't pleased, and after some discussion we trudged away from the train station to the Greyhound bus station across town. We copied the grey, rainy skies and sat with little dark cartoon bubbles above our heads, the kind where you can see swiggly lines and symbols as imaginary curses. But with time, we found ourselves relaxing again and ready to begin the next few days with a better feeling.

All in all, the shopping sucked. I arrived with a set amount of cash, and left with nearly the same amount - I didn't buy a single piece of clothing. Why are everything and everyone starting to look the same? And in a bad, cheaply-made way? Half-way through I became nearly disgusted and promptly adopted a no-buy, hate-capitalism, hate-all-these-too-cool-for-school-people attitude. I guess the continued greyness, rain and cool weather didn't help, but it just felt wrong. But apart from the lame-ass shopping, I had some nice moments. Nice laughs with Manon - especially the part when we were in a trying-to-be-fancy restaurant with a violinist, whom we were desperately trying to prevent from coming to our table. In the end we succeeded by pretending to gesture wildly and exchange uber serious looks, as though we were sharing an intense, possibly argumentative conversation. Which was no easy task, considering the fact that these gestures and looks were mixed with bursts of laughter.

The best part of the trip was seeing Dana-Eve. I was bewildered to find myself so emotional as I looked into her eyes again. We chatted away lightly as Martin drove us towards their apartment, and all the while my eyes were welling up uncontrollably. I felt joyful to be reunited with her, but for some reason I became a mess of tears and smiles in consequence. My friends, you have never met a finer person, a more comfortable and enjoyable friend, and a more graceful woman than Dana-Eve. Once I was able to convince my tears to subside, Dana-Eve, Martin, Manon and I all went out for a wonderful meal at an Indian restaurant and afterwards, while Martin attended his band practice, we sat around in their living room and watched the second Lord of the Rings movie, mostly because I didn't believe the girls about a part where Frodo and Sam use their cloaks to appear like rocks. I was proven wrong (well geez, I only saw it once), and we watched the rest of the movie while trying to imitate the talking trees - try talking low while breathing in at the same time - which was, believe it or not, great fun. When Martin was done we all headed out to the Dieu du Ciel pub in the Plateau area for a pitcher of beer with a bunch of Martin's friends. (Little pause here, Sonny just jumped onto my lap with the cutest little mew and some purring,,, His tail ilsll on the keyboardsssswwwe... oops) Anyway, the beer was great and it was nice to be out at night in a packed bar with some good people.

But by Monday morning, the sky was still dark, the streets were still wet and it was just time to go home. So Manon and I packed up, went to the old Café Ludique (or whatever it's called now) on Sainte-Catherine near UQAM and had a few pomme-et-brie sandwiches that are absolutely perfect. Then we left - much too early, just in case - for the train station and made our way home. On the way here I made a lot of progress on the multi-coloured scarf I'm knitting, and had a few of those realizations I mentioned earlier on. I thought about the Murray Street apartment, and my bedroom, and my bed, and my CD's, and the market, and my parents, and my friends, and Sonny. It simply felt right to come home. And, just because that's how it's suppose to happen when things are perfectly right, our good friends Martine, Alain and Derek were standing out on the Heart and Crown patio smoking a cigarette when we passed by them on our way home, duffle bags still slung across our shoulders. We stood outside with them as they puffed away, laughing, talking and making plans for stuff going on here, in Ottawa, at home - the usual. It was wonderful. After swinging inside the pub to say hello to a few others who were sitting inside, I grabbed my bags and continued on towards home, until I heard my name being called out behind me. Poking her head out of the Café Crepe de France, right next door from the Heart and Crown, was a grinning Véro, waving to me from the entrance. So I doubled back again and met with another friend who happened to be in the market and just a street away from my place. I returned the grin and felt engulfed with a feeling of belonging, of purpose and of happiness. And I understood then - as though some Blog God was out there and had read my previous entry - that although I get the itch to leave and despite the dreams of Elsewhere, this is just where I need to be, right here, right now, at the Murray Street apartment with Manon, my friends, my family.

And with Sonny warm on my lap, my old computer soon to be turned off for the night, another hot shower in my little yellow bathroom, my spirit content once again.