A poster on the bus advertised the heats for the local yodelling festival. Not the festival itself, but the pre-competition to allow people to apply for the competition itself.
National character cannot simply be a function of climatic conditions, but the two are linked. What would the Canadian character be without all that ice to muck about on?
I get the impression that some people only indulge in their “normal” because everyone they have grown up around has done so, and so they take it as the sole option. That’s grotesque.
Nothing can prepare you for a beauty you have always felt. A field as flat as a wicket; an enclosure of monastic solitude; a building burned in to cultural memory.
I had to find cheap eats, and I wasn’t going to eat rubbish. Thankfully I have always been able to cook.