I can see 6 MacBooks from my chair in the library

If I had to archive 5 Edmonton things, they would be the following:
-an abandoned Tim Hortons coffee cup
-a magpie
-a pothole
-some river water 
And a collection of ticket stubs from all of our festivals we have. 

This list seems drab, but I feel that it accurately portrays what edmontonians encounter most. for some reason edmontonians love drinking the high-fructose corn syrup laden tar that is Tim Hortons coffee. The giant pick up trucks are regularly submitted to nearly being engulfed by even larger potholes. Yet, we survive the harsh conditions just like our neighbor magpies. Who also appreciate the river valley just as much as we do. And populate the streets of our much longed-for festivals. 

all the old showstoppers.

A Tourist’s Guide to Edmonton is not a simple thing to imagine. I say this because all day I have had a difficult time thinking up something so uniquely edmonton, that a tourist could simply not miss it while visiting our city. The reason I find it hard to compile a collection of unique places is that it seems Edmonton has been formed through the amalgamation of unique groups of people. Tourists who travel to Edmonton probably could find a community or area that has strong connections back to their homeland, and could feel welcome or even at home. Maybe this is why people get sucked back to Edmonton? Dianne Chisholm suggested that Edmontonians desire to emigrate from this place, only to return later—always pulled back home. 

Currently the only stop I would put on a Tourist’s Guide to Edmonton would be Fort Ed (regardless of dramatized as it has become). Fort Ed is one of the few places I can remember learning about the city as a child. Maybe I just have a hankering for the rock-candy stick things right now. 

I’m sure there are many places people find interesting in our city, but I cannot pin down a place I would miss if I was in a different city. There are certain geographical features or natural facets to the area that make Edmonton unique—of course our dear river valley—and, god forbid: the never forgettable winters. 

The majority of the things I enjoy about the city are things that come here temporarily, only to leave as quickly as they came. The Fringe, K-days, The Folk Fest (any musical acts really...) all fall under this heading. Moreover, the places that are here year round change their showcases, be it science exhibits at the Space and Science center, art at the AGA, or any performances at the numerous venues across town. 

I would find it hard to recommend places for a tourist to go in Edmonton, as the best part about it is how it changes constantly (my brain is paralleling weather with this point) with great things happening in the city all of the time, but not necessarily being uniquely Edmonton—it is the sum of all the parts that make our perseverance worthwhile.  

Excuse the intrusion.

After reading Mitch Davis’s excerpt from Dead Cities and Other Tales, I have been locked in the clutches of my own imagination. Davis illustrates several post-apocalyptic theories from notable 19th and 20th century works, as well as contemporary scientists’ evaluation of such works’ verisimilitude. Davis retells Jefferies’s prediction of weeds overtaking urbanity in his novel After London. Davis then furthers this argument with support from The New Scientist, where it is predicted that: “herculean alien weeds” such as the shrub Buddleia davidii would crush slabs of concrete and urban infrastructure in search of moisture. 

This idea of weeds taking over, and particularly “alien” ones, links right back to Alice Major’s description of “carragana hedges.” In London, alien weeds may overtake the city; In Edmonton, we are the weeds. We put down roots and suck everything out of the ground to sustain ourselves. We then prolong our hold of the land through multiplication, ever outwards, reforesting the landscape with people. Our blossoms are concrete monoliths, which stand aside their withered counterparts from seasons, or rather decades, past. 

In the cold, sometimes thought to be insufferable winters of Edmonton, we thrive above all else. The weeds don’t wait for spring. We continue on. Meanwhile the conifers stand stoically above us, and the nude hardwoods sleep under their snowy blankets. 

Nature in Edmonton is subdued by us. We profess our infatuation with the river valley, yet we extend our roots throughout with concrete arteries. Nature in Edmonton only exists insofar as we, the weeds, will allow.    

Several backpacks to the head later,

Be warned, I am attempting to blog from my phone, on a bus. Dangerous. 

What have I learned in 380 so far? Honestly, I can't recollect anything that I have concretely learned. But, and this a 24 oz.artery clogging sized but, I don't believe that learning specifics was ever the intention of this course. Rather, I have been inspired in many ways to explore the city (this is still considered as a will-do as we all know that mother nature has been unusually moody and cold as of late). This being said, I'm keen to hunt out the walla walla west house, and have been since we finished The Edmonton Queen. I am also excited to delve into the possibilities that is edmonton's core. Following this term I will be venturing out of the limiting neighborhood that my parents house is located in, to a hopefully liberating apartment downtown. With inspirations abound from this class, this experience will be all the richer (even though I definitely won't be). So, I'm anticipating the learning to come, with this class providing the tools to succeed accordingly.

Why have you not done this yet?

If you missed it on the first day of class, I LOVE the Edmonton Public Library. Our Library is (according to my very limited queries to residents of other Canadian metropolises) one of the best. The Edmonton Public Library can be useful in some way to every single person in our city. I feel that the Library offers the most to all Edmontonians of all public spaces. You can sign up annually for a mere twelve dollars, which allows for 40—yes 40–items out at one time. Moreover, they will waive the fee for your first year if you simply tell them you cannot afford it. Family members of someone who already possesses a library card get a discounted rate, children are free, as well as university students. Do you have a library card? If not, stop reading this and head to your nearest branch right now. Recently the EPL expanded its operating hours to have most branches open seven days a week. It’s that easy, you even get to pick a witty saying and color for your card—mine deems me to be an information ninja, in yellow.  

Now that you all have gone out and signed up, what can you do with your library card? Obviously you can roam the stacks of thousands upon thousands of books like generations have done before us; but, the library has more to offer. The library has a continuously growing collection of both old and new CDs, DVDs, Magazines and now even video games. Best part about all of this, you can log on to their sweet website, put whatever you want on hold—and get this—they will ship it to you from anywhere in the city. Well, not specifically to you, but to the branch of your choice. 

This seems all fine and dandy, but who wants to add an extra trip to their day to go to the library? In our digital age, this seems mundane. If you sympathize with this last sentence, go rub your face in the snow. If you are on campus, go rub your face in the snow in quad. Then, head over to Cameron, where guess what? There is an EPL branch right on the main floor. No extra trip needed. Bazinga. 

Now that you have a conveniently located branch to go to, what excuses do you have left not to? 

Regardless of if you do, I still have more reasons why you should head to the EPL. 

The staff are awesome. These people provide all of the above for you, and usually take the time to stop and have a genuine conversation with you about your day. Whoever started spreading rumors of librarians being stuffy and uptight must have been illiterate and spiteful. 

Next best thing about the library, alternative fine payments! Once a year the Library will expunge your fines in exchange for food bank donations. Kudos to whomever had this gem of an idea. 

I could continue on for quite a while about why I love the library, but I think you should find your own reasons, and “spread the word.”

Last suggestion: the sweet website I mentioned earlier, yeah, there’s an app for that. 

I could have used some blåbärssoppa

Reading week has definitely been living up to its namesake, so the opportunity to get out and walk my partner’s map was a welcome one. 

First off, I was lost. Lost in Edmonton. Lost in a part of town I had never been to before. I honestly did not think this was in any way possible. 

After having brunch with some friends, I commandeered a ride to the Argyll Velodrome, where my journey was to begin—this in itself was an adventure, as no one in the car knew where we were going. Nevertheless, after many ‘80s hits had soundtracked our journey, we arrived. At this point, I hopped out of the car, waved goodbye to my friends and began what would be a very cold, yet refreshing, traverse through Mill Creek ravine. 

On my little excursion (to which I owe my toes an apology, as they were chilliest) I was presented with ‘The House of Broken Dreams.’ In the ravine there is an open plot where an abandoned house once stood. 

All that remains is this lamp post.

I also had several things in my map that are no longer there, or have changed drastically. These absences, rather than still-present things/objects/places was the first thing that my walk got my brain churning.

‘Place,’ as we discussed in class, is becoming (in my opinion) more and more a location with collective memory. Because, even though I never saw the ‘House of Broken Dreams’ I now know where it was, and have my own interpretation of it—a result of someone else’s sharing. 

This notion is strange, but becomes stranger when you consider other ‘places’ beyond Edmonton. Edmonton is a fairly young city, so when you think about all the things that have been drastically changed over many centuries (see the Hypercities map of Rome) it becomes impossible to define a city as ‘place.’ We will never be able to share all of our memories of a space with one another (our mapping assignment being an example) but rather, only fragments. I guess we can all share a collective awareness of the city, but not an understanding. We will always have different perspectives.

"Are cities just tumors of people on the landscape?"

When talking about how we move in the city this week, I had a nagging feeling that I had had a discussion about this long before we began our journey that is English 380. But I had not had any such conversation; rather, I listened to a conversation about the science of urban movement. This conversation was a podcast courtesy of Radiolab: an entire hour about cities.
I could go on about everything they talked about, but instead, check it out for yourself:

Radiolab: Cities

For those who feel an hour of podcast listening is too...time consuming, just download it and let the guys at radiolab accompany you on your next long bus ride or during any other menial daily task.

As for myself, moving through this city is a major pet peeve of mine on two fronts. Firstly, I suffer from what was recently described on CTV (National News, shout out to my man Lloyd Robertson) as 'sidewalk rage.' I ideally belong in one of the faster cities described in the podcast above, because I become irate when trapped behind anyone who is simply wandering.  I have actually thought about the need for two-story sidewalks, on for wanderers, and one with a predetermined minimum speed-limit, for those who actually walk with conviction.

Secondly, As for walking with or against the circulation of the city, I don't think 'dirt city' has a circulation. I find that sometimes when I am walking downtown, or down whyte—people are few and far-between. I find this even more in my own community, when out running through neighbourhood labrynths, I get the sidewalk all to myself (not complaining in this instance). I would suggest this might have something to do with our car culture, and its unavoidable obese effects—oops! Tangent.

I suppose the wanderers first described, are probably just victims of car-culture who have had the misfortune of finding themselves suddenly and inconveniently self-propelled.

I guess to sum up I don't think I move against the circulation of Edmonton; rather, everyone else seems to be moving against the correct-circulation. Our city has arteries clogged with toxic cars, and an excess of antibodies—antibodies of wanderers who struggle to navigate our city in a correct fashion.

Go fly a kite.

My expectations for English 380 are... nonexistent. Why? I didn’t expect much to begin with, as the course focuses on a city I have become increasingly disenchanted with. I have enjoyed most of what we’ve read, and was genuinely interested with our sample of creative cartography. However, I can’t say that my perception of Edmonton has changed to any great extent. 

Many people have been astounded by how little they know of minorities, and subcultures, and places in the city. And then people go on about how things are subjective or not, and like to theorize a lot. I was stoked when Minister Faust mocked academia. Personally, I don’t find much merit in discussing subcultures—or minorities. It would be much better to be told to literally go take a hike, and bring back some experiences to share. I have found a lot of discussions focusing on what people would like to do, and where they want to go. Statements of intent are relatively meaningless; rather, I applaud the people who share what they have done, things they have experienced within our short time together. 

I expected this class to be a lot more hands on, seeing as we are existing in the very object of our study. Hopefully our mapping assignments will be more exciting, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know what I will be mapping, as I don’t have any ideas of something that can be done within an hour—this brief tour of someone’s conceptual journey through space doesn’t go much beyond theoretical discussions, as it is more observational than experiential.  

Well, apparently my bowl was full of negative salsa while writing this post, time to do some dishes and look forward to whatever happens next. 

"The bigger the hair, the closer to god"

This week’s class discussion revolved around Darrin Hagen’s book The Edmonton Queen, a collection of stories from Hagen’s involvement in the Edmonton Drag scene since the ‘80s. With our class focusing on reading the local, we were fortunate to have Darrin be able to come and speak to our class. 

Discussion focused dominantly on the many facets of drag portrayal in present society, how drag culture has changed and the history of the queer community. Nevertheless, the relation to our purpose of reading the local is the step back and thinking about minorities of any capacity and their interactions with each other and the spaces they inhabit. Drag culture exemplified how spaces can be “owned” by a minority, as they control the majority of their claimed space’s happenings. In The Edmonton Queen, this space was Flashback—a bar of both grand and gritty conditions.  Hagen, then known as Gloria, would “own” the bar with his ‘girls,’ putting on spectacular shows, and delving into debauchery (go read the book, It is hilarious, sad, and eye-opening).

The anecdotes of his book illustrate how the underground, or in a more general sense minorities create spaces to exist in, where they can maintain their values and find camaraderie through community. However, and this is a big however, I don’t think it is necessary for minorities within the city to “own” an area. Public spaces, like Flashback are frequented by groups who identify collectively, with common goals and interests to band together. This can be said for any group of people, and the location is not concretely significant. Another example is the University of Alberta itself, or even English 380, reading the local. People convene in a regular place to work together for some purpose, regardless if it is embracing your inner woman, or reading a book about those embracing their inner women. 

In a way, I believe minorities do not “own” spaces, but they “own” their groups. When Flashback was empty, or when HC 1-7 empties its contents of English 380 students, they both stop belonging to the groups who inhabited them. Although the spaces may have calming abilities of providing familiarity and comfort, minorities can identify with one another in any place. Hagen describes the drag scene across North America, illustrating how minorities can find familiarity and comfort amongst their peers beyond walls. 

Ma-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-aps!

A recent discussion concerning the validity and purpose of maps, and how they are biased was rather off-putting. Complaining about maps is a futile endeavor. Maps come in a variety of different shapes and sizes with many different purposes. Herein, it is illogical to disregard maps as for being “too subjective.” If one takes the position of somethings validity stemming only from how utilitarian and complete it is, one is bound to be perpetually disappointed. Everything created by man is in a way incomplete, no creation is entirely efficient or “useful.” It was pointed out it class how history is written by the victors—even further: literature is written from one point of view; films are not made collectively by their audience; and scary as it is, laws are passed by a select few. All of these examples show how biases invade all man-made things, and it is reckless to disregard any of the above for lacking total usefulness. 

Many maps shown during the aforementioned discussion had little to no purpose for everyday use, but were no less useful. Hitotoki (http://hitotoki.org/) allows for brief empathetic moments with strangers—the classic version allows for an even better experience. Biomapping illustrates the emotional responses of participants through “Galvanic Skin Response,” while they walk through a specific area (city or town). Neither of these will help someone in their daily routines, but illustrate something unique nonetheless.

Another blog, Cartastrophe (http://cartastrophe.wordpress.com/) shows examples of many cartographic errors. Most are chuckle-inducing, insightful, or strange (face mapping?). This blog shows how mistakes can be made, even if it is just in how a legend is created. The maps shown are not useless, just flawed. 

I guess the biggest problem I had with such negativity towards maps, is that such an opinion is either poorly developed, or illustrates an even more serious misconception: if it is possible to disregard maps due to their flaws and biases, is the same rationale directed towards their creators: people?

Sleepwalking in the City

“In west [Edmonton], born and raised—at the [Grovenor] playground I spent most of my days.”

The ‘city’ has been my home for the duration of my brief existence, coincidentally providing many ‘senses’ of the city, and memories from many different corners of the capital region; although, I also spent almost every summer just outside the city at my parent’s cabin at Alberta Beach. This 45 minute gap between Edmonton’s urban expanse and a small summer town evokes some of my greatest realizations about the city. 

After weeks of lake adventures with the local folk, the return back to the city would always give me mild culture—or rather ‘urban’ shock. Urban shock being a result of the sudden sensory overload from the wake of large groups of people. As city dwellers, we never turn the lights out, we walk past street lights, traffic lights, and storefront signs unconsciously; our cars, trucks, motorcycles, and buses all radiate sticky exhaust while whittling deep ruts into the city’s concrete arteries; we wake up in the morning, turn off our annoying alarm clocks, and set our autopilot functions on. 

As children, my sister and I classified people in two different groups: lake-kids, and city-kids (adults were simply excluded). This distinction comes from when either of us would bring a friend (read: city-kid) out to the cabin, and they would seem to stop functioning normally. This glitch in city-kids was over time decided to be a result of perpetual autopilot, and from a lack of spontaneity. 

Lake-kids know everyone from their block, to the next block, to the store clerk, to the librarian, and beyond. City-kids rarely know their neighbors on both sides. Lake-kids never bruise their knees on the same street, usually not even on a street—but off in some remote treed place. 

Unfortunately, lake-kids grow up to be adults just like city-kids. I have my own ruts I follow, the usual haunts, and have slowly shifted into autopilot—it’s hard not to, with Edmonton's urban sprawl, hectic schedules, and terrible winter transportation. I see the city through the window of the bus on my way to and from work or school, and if lucky, check out the river valley when weather permits outdoor excursions. I inhabit the city without many senses engaged: as a big, grown-up (somewhat), unconscious city-kid. 

I have already begun to question this existence, and hope through exploration of the local, I can find the adult, urban equivalent of a lake-kid once again.