anghara (anghara) wrote,
anghara
anghara

Whistler Diary, day 2

Why is it that grown men and women, of the ilk that can afford to stay in a hotel like this, cannot grasp the simple fact that SOUND CARRIES THROUGH THIN WALLS AND DOORS and conversations in corridors which contain other guests' rooms, and especially delighted giggling in the same spaces, should really be confined to being as brief and as quiet as possible... and most PARTICULARLY when it comes to after midnight. Just because THEY are awake and having a good time, do they HAVE to insist that the rest of the hotel, most of which was probably sound asleep, share it? Thanks for the generosity, folks. Now go to your rooms and BELT UP. I mean it. If the party crowd of last night are out having fun tonight as well then we - shall - have - words.

However. That cavil aside.

Got up to find another perfect autumn day waiting for me. Whistler is a symphony of red and gold and blue and white - the fall foliage against a pristine sky and white mountain peaks. It's to weep for, there is so much beauty here. I spent the early part of the day wandering the village and taking photos, and then I stopped off for a chocolate crepe and a coffee at around 2 PM, and then crossed the street to take pictures of some particularly spectacular leaves and a lovely fountain - and then I read the plaque in the little park and discovered that it stretched further away from the street, and meandered up the hill until it culminated, at the hilltop, in something called "The Storytellers Chair". Well. You ought to know that this was irresistible. I went back there to investigate, and it was just wonderful, a shapeless form only barely a chair, on feet that looked like chicken bones, and on it, carved in language upon language, "once upon a time". I adore it, the whole idea, the whole DREAM of it. I never knew it was there. But if I ever return to this place again it shall be a place of pilgrimage for me. It is such a complete embodiment of everything that I am, that I have come here to be and to do. And it was such an unexpected gift from the gods, unlooked for and unsought, presented like a jewel... Pictorial evidence to follow, when I've downloaded the photos I took.

Well, from there, to the library, where I was to present my first Whistler Writers Festival workshop, to a group of young writers - the advertisement said 10 - 17, but we eventually wound up with eleven attendees four of whom were nine (at one end) and at the other we had a 13-year-old and a 14-year-old. It could have been an, um interesting experience. But they all rose to the occasion, and the hour and a half that we had together just flew by. I do so love working with kids, especially this kind of bright and articulate writer-kid kind that we had there this afternoon. I would call this first workshop a resounding success, I enjoyed myself immensely and I think so did they.

Back to the hotel and a reception for the faculty of the Festival, and enjoyable conversations with a bunch of other writers and presenters - and then retired to my room for a bite to eat and perhaps an earlier night. I have another workshop (for adults this time) in the morning, and I plan on trying to see if a couple of other presentations are available for me to sit in on and listen in. Then there's dinner tomorrow night - but I'll report on all of that tomorrow after the fact. Until then - good night, all and I will see you all tomorrow...
Tags: promotions, writing life
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