Hmmm… where to begin. To cut it short, I’m not sure if this place…
Hmmm… where to begin. To cut it short, I’m not sure if this place is for me. There is an energy here that I can’t put my finger on. The town seems defeated and drained, I’m guessing nothing new has happened around here in a while. It’s the start of summer so there does seem to be a small sense of hope in the air. I can tell it won’t last long. As soon as the temperature rises and the promise of tourist dollar goes up in smoke, people will start to turn on each other. I know it. But I don’t know why I know it. I can’t place these feelings. It’s definitely a world away from New York City that’s for sure. An obvious statement, but while the air feels cleaner it has a heaviness to it.
On the face of it, this lakeside respite from city life should be pretty idyllic. Water cutting for miles through dense green forests, steam boats blasting their horns, children splashing on the shore. It’s the kind of place where things don’t change in a hurry; Brimming with nostalgia because every-things the same as it always was. But here there’s an undercurrent, like something is lurking beneath the surface. I feel it and I can’t shake it.
We are staying in the center of town which is a bustling hub of activity. As you enter you see a multitude of stalls set up by the lakeside. Most of them are local craftspeople trying sell a few handmade items. Everything from up-cycled furniture to jewelry made of old cutlery. And then there’s the tie dye. I can tell that the area brings in a lot of creativity. Maybe that’s why I feel a sense of danger. I have always said that the most creative people aren’t helping fix the world but that they have turned their backs on it, hiding away in towns like this.
As I observe the town, it seems very similar to the town I grew up in. That must be why I’m feeling this way. This place has stirred something inside of me. Memories of my childhood charge through my head. The teenage girls glammed to the nines to pop out to the shop. Everyone you know, knows you. You are reduced to a single word in towns like this. Smart, tough, bad, good. Everyone has a word and as more things happen the more complex the word becomes. You slide in behind the next, trying not to stick out.
I walk to the supermarket; sitting on a green bench just outside. ‘Penny Savers’ was in a small carpark one street back from the main road. Adjacent to it was the local biker hangout. As soon as I sat down I was quickly followed by a string of locals. An older woman to the right of me, almost immediately tries to make eye contact. Then a man suited in neon pajamas perches next to me, followed quickly by another.
Mr. Neon sparks up a conversation, asking the usual – ‘where are you from?’ I tell him that I’m from Australia and the look on his face turns to dismay. He has never met an Australian and explains how strange it is that I have chosen to come here, while he has been working his whole like so he can leave. This made me stop and think for a bit.
I thought back, to that small town that I came from. A young me, hanging out in car parks and outside storefronts trying to get a glimpse of the tourists. I dreamed, like Mr. Neon, of one day getting out of that town and never looking back. Escaping into the world, not fully knowing, but truly hoping that there was a better place out there for me.
I knew deep down that it was too late for him. Although I wanted to think differently we both knew he would never get out of this place. Inside I said a little thank you to myself for having the strength to leave my small tourist town.
Sometimes in the least expected moments familiar feelings can transport you to a different place. In another universe, it could have been me sitting outside the local supermarket trying to talk to strangers…
