A quick trip with the daughter, arrive a bit early and poke around downtown, the city has grown around places I remember, or, in that other trick of time and memory, I find places I remember in unfamiliar settings, the daughter notes what a change in character and culture the city has compared to Calgary, and it's true. The city has a culture - Calgary, well, not so much. Calgary's the rich brother that didn't need manners or education or character because - hey - it had money.
Now who's laughing?
Walk past the Bistro, the old building that used to house it, now a shell that conceals the bottom few floors of a skyscraper, see other familiar old buildings revitalized, Churchill Square with it's library and concert hall, the McDonald Hotel now opened (it was closed almost the entire time I lived there), despite the large marginal contingent clearly visible on the street it's physically a much more vibrant city than when I last lived here. There's perfectly interesting and dirty streets, cafes, filled with people, a very different cultural climate than Calgary, even the daughter observes, it's been too long since I've visited, I need to spend a few days here and rediscover old haunts (those that still exist), need to come back and take a few days and rediscover it, who knows who I'll run into?
The "Wee Book Inn" - they tried Calgary, lasted a year - maybe - then folded. People in Calgary don't read books, not good books at least, I pop in and admire their selection. Nothing I need - but if you read books, know books - compare their selection - in a relatively tiny shop - with the same selection in a warehouse that represents Calgary's tastes - you'd understand.
We lunch at Bistro - they've done a fine job of rebuilding, relocating, the perfect blend of familiarity and renovation, the food, double and quadrupled in price, not expensive - but, again, the curse of memory, of ninety-five cent open faced sandwiches, those days are gone. I should have fattened up.
Nostalgia. Don't know if I'm a fan, but the sand is running through the glass, and - as I'm noticing - you never dip your toe in the same river twice.