Tuesday,

I never know how to gauge time when I have to fly out. It doesn’t really matter what time of day, it seems that I am wasting time until the flight leaves. Worse I am working backward from when I think that I have to be at the airport.

I guess that early morning flights are the best but to me early morning usually means getting up before the crack of dawn and heading into St. John’s.

The best last day in a city was Rio when the flight didn’t leave until 10PM. Left my luggage with the concierge and raced all over town getting one last look and surprising myself in the “risks” that I was taking – heading out to Maracanã, taking the metrô, walking back from the Sambadrómo through the Pça da República and downtown before finally taking a bus back to the hotel and a coach to Galeão/Tom Jobim. A full day.

Leaving Balamer, I am carrying too much stuff to actually stop and make snaps – although I do stop and place packages on friend’s cars are parked in the light rail commuter lots.

The flight back to the Midwest left at noon. The airport was 15 minutes away. It was he worse possible scenario - too late to start anything in Burlington to early to simply head out.

I did two last wanders in the neighbourhoods once more with a clear blue morning sky with a nice bright piercing sun. Walked away from downtown not expecting much and thus just stuffed my pocket with a couple of rolls and Joãozão. A mistake well half a mistake as I was in a fuzzy image frame of mind and kept seeing potential Diana snaps also. The main reason was finding more things left than I expected but there was a great deal of New England formalism.

After the first round I was going to chalk it up to “next time” but with more time to spare, I went on a sprinting snapping spree.

A snap of a 50’s like motel having the rental car courtesy bus wait for us while I made it.

Proud of a morning well spent.

The eternal “slow zone” on the CTA in from O’Hare set the tone for being back in the Midwest.

Monday,

By now I realised that with the just rising sun both sun and shade a close together in temperature so I don’t have to bring a change of clothes.

Up early to head back to the park with the homeless possessions, making sure that once again I take advantage of the light. A lot of the snaps are made of the front porches – which border on the formal but with some real human activity. Since unlike the south the porches are on the street almost, there isn’t that distance so I create some with a pole here and there. Being a college town I find that there is more than enough things to photograph which works with the possessions that are my main goal as it brings into question who their really belong to.

Another newish route downtown – which even though it is a Monday is still early enough that no one is about. Pass though the park of the farmers market to find to-day a homeless coffee klatsch.

I am more interested in spaces, property. Because of the camera malfunctions in Newfoundland I find myself taking the same image on different rolls to make sure. I had one fat roll my first day but it was due to my inattentive loading and my cheap Czech film.

Headed back for breakfast – while the food there was great and I emptied them of their orange juice I wanted to head to a coffee shop with real people – bed and breakfast people aren’t real people.

To-day we were being taken out to lunch by the people of Lake Champlain Chocolates as Carol is the main designer for their packages. This was at noon so more time for wandering before then another – different – way downtown. She to shop, me to snap before heading down to Lake Champlain.

Something I miss in Peasants Pissoir are decent places to eat, and here we were in a city half the size with restaurants galore – this time it was new Asian cuisine, but I was already planning for the evening when we would go down market and have a pizza – but whether it would be a Three Tomatoes or an American Flatbread pizza was still in the air.

The afternoon could have been one of those afternoons simply wasted – a trip to a wildflower farm and now what – if not for me and my boundary fetish.

A ferry to New York – making the crossing – a wander around Essex and then the ferry back would be the outing. I could pretend that in the distance I could see Port- aux-Basques, I could set my watch to be a half hour off. Although it was a car ferry we left the machine in Vermont and walked aboard.

The trip was somewhere in between Marine Atlantic and canoe-ing on Red Indian Lake. I could help but to compare it with the commutes between Niterói and Rio to the point that I went to stand on the prow.And of course there was a Newfoundlander – proudly showing his Memorial sweatshirt there with me at the water’s edge.

Essex had closed down, there were only about six shops in town and all but one was closed. The only reason it was open was due to the owner living above it. Wandered about trying to deal with the dated look of the place and the water. Wondered if I could live in a place that closed so completely after Labour Day.

Went into the post office to find a person running across the street to get her other cat, another trading barbs with the postal worker and a tray of brownies out. my kind of post office.

The woman came back with the other cat – to prove that the two completely different cats were from the same litter. Chatted a bit about the place, wondering what it was like living there and how friendly it seemed - found out later that most people were private and backstabbing – made her snap with Felix and wandered a bit more awaiting the next ferry.

Early evening sun, a puppy stole the scene from the lake.

Readily embracing localism, I had two pints from the closest microbreweries at American Flatbread.

Sunday,

but a Sirius Satellite 137 Sunday so instead of Michael Enright I get Tapestry, I hate Sirius 137 it is the CBC in Bizarro World.

It was an early Sunday meaning that the shops would be shut downtown, and I could head back and photograph without any trouble. I had gathered my thoughts remembered places where I wanted to make snaps – mainly of things left in parks – and was ready to head out.

It was early enough on Sunday that the heat was only on the sunny side of the street. Walking in the shade required more layers of clothing. This early autumn morning had a light that was god for tangible shadows.

A nice wander- the usual zig zag making sure that I used the side of the street that held the most potential but trying not to repeat streets that I had been down unless there was an snap that I remembered- before things opened some snaps made, the pedestrian mall was what I had expected as there were some tables out but no people.

This was a day that we wee going to flirt with Canada. Everyone was talking about this causeway that we should walk and we reckoned that it was the one to the islands in the middle of Lake Champlain just north of Burlington.

Parked the rental PT Cruiser on the east bank walked over the causeway me straining, thinking, hoping that I could see Québec got to the other side where there were city sized caravan resorts and walked back.

Me being in control of the car – it would cost an extra $25/day for a second driver – headed non-chalantly north snaking back and forth through this chain of islands hoping to happen upon the border – where I would make a run for…. –

I realise that with a rental I probably wouldn’t be able to cross, and gave up. My isolationist self wanted to live on the islands, Carol finding it a bit too remote.

Another wander in the afternoon but a faster one where again if I stopped to make a snap I would be out of breath trying to catch up. Found a park where the homeless kept their stuff but it would take to long to document so a note for the following day. I was getting into a work habit and it looked like I could keep it up as I am always up early and if one has to be a townie the best time to be one in just after sunrise.

Feeling ansty and realising that we hadn’t contributed enough to global warming, we headed to some tourist spots – an excuse – the real destination of the road trip was a hastily planned Richard Olson commemorative kamikaze run to an ex-yinser/mormon/maple syrup babe.

A walk around Stowe which was too New England for me. Then off to the State Capital and to do what I have done from coast to coast to coast north and south of the 49th.

By the way like Montpelier better than Burlington. Was shocked at how small it was, thought that I would see the state capital from the interstate, barely saw it after I entered town.

The street in question was easy to find, seeing the car parked out in front made me a bit nervous, as the subject had the front flat. Determinedly, steadily I walked up to the car,

Made a snap.

Walked up to her house

Made a snap of me in front of it – this was a last minute operation as if I had planned it before leaving the Midwest I would have left something in the mail box.

Drove off.

Dinner was at the Daily Planet more locally grown food another great salad, and I think that got their vegetarian shepherd pie down, before heading back for more of the Hitchcock Festival on cable after I e-mail her the snaps.

when i last wrote...

everything is being delayed.
I could see the lake from the dormer, I could have seen it better if the skylight weren’t there. I noticed it when I hit my head against the screen. This was going to be the subplot for the next few days – my head meeting various low corners of the attic room.

Lake Champlain looked like a river – thought that New York State would be more distant.

This is where in some past life I was supposed to be if I hadn’t been a slacker in upper school. Middlebury, Williams, Bennington, Godard, were among names the councillor would rattle off. It was as if the college experience for the mid-Atlantic students entailed freezing in long New England winters.

An early stroll downtown before the shops open on a drizzly day, I keep looking for the lake, which is there somewhere but really doesn’t seem to have much to do with the city itself. I keep thinking State Street in Madison but there while you cannot see the lakes one seems to feel their presence more. Could do without the pedestrian mall but it was nice to see people – the sane ones – having coffee in the dozen or so coffee shops that weren’t Starbucks and that the pathetic indoor mall was not being used.

I knew that I could move here when I found the camera shop Lezot that sold film and cameras – new and used that use it. I went up the stairs and was confronted by a mound of Holgas while a person behind the counter was aiming an ancient Leica digital. In the back room there were enlargers, they had a good selection of papers. I was sold.

What closed the deal were the two used bookshops further along.

Still wanted to find the lake and walking to it I didn’t feel as if I were any closer to it. It wasn’t being used the way that Lakes Mendota and Monona are. There were tasteful amounts of people biking and jogging but it seemed so separate from the city that it seemed like an excursion in and of itself.

Afternoon wanders north of town and through a less college centred part of Burlington – me photographing the homeless encampments along the river Carol anxiously wanting to move on – and once in walking mode a stroll south to the arts area in south pine street past a gallery that has Connie Imboden’s work in it.

A discussion ensues on the value and drawbacks of print on demand books, as there is an I-photo book in the gallery.

I was wondering if I had brought the wrong camera, Joãozão is great for my gawking type of wander - I have to withdraw the bellows – roughly – focus and refocus as the infinity lock doesn’t catch at times, this is due to the black photographic tape, meter and make sure there is enough light for the meter to function – it doesn’t like dimly lit areas or when it is duckish. I forgot that Carol has these walks of death. If I dare slow down thinking that something may have registered she is blocks away. I should have brought the leiquinhas as they require less preparation. I found that I was passing things that I thought was interesting but by the time I was ready to make a snap I forgot what it was. I was still overburdened by cameras – along with Joãozão there was the digital – that Carol was supposed to use but I was taking more for extreme close-up – and the Diana which became the camera of wander once again.

Evening down to Starry Night – a restaurant that supposedly had good food Carol had only been as far as the car-park as the last time she was there she was retching with regularity from food poisoning.

- Wow the way you are dressed you must be from out of town. Our hostess greeted us. I had a shirt with a collar but didn’t differ too much from the regulars.

It turned out that we were being served by two people who had suffered art school – Pratt – one was a sculptor the other a hateful photographer. There was tag team conversation as one or the other would stop to chat between other duties.

Being artists we were surprised when our bill was a good $80 more than it should be – unless local beers are $20 a pint. We were given the wrong bill.

Back at the Bed and Breakfast we carried as many bikkies as tastefully possible up to the room.