My kind of town

Hey H.,

So I know things have been a bit rough for you lately. People have been saying you're not very progressive, and too meek, and desperately in need of a face lift. I've even lamented your lack of ambition lately, your complacency, your inability to get out of your own way.

But then... I spent a few days getting reaquainted with you, and I am more in love with you now than ever. Don't let them get you down. I've realized size does matter, and baby, you're perfect for me. We've been together for more than 20 years, and Halifax, I'm not going anywhere.

I love how laid back you are. There's virtually no place in town I can't go in boots and a pair of jeans. Who wants to have pizza and beer in a tight skirt and something dry-clean only? Besides, the Fireside is below ground. You try navigating those steps in heels. Before martinis it's awkward. After martinis it's medically unsound.

I love how there are, and always have been, groups of goths around, bless their angsty hearts. For a brief time, long ago, I was one of them. Or at least had the dress-up kit. Favourite gothic moment this week? A very polite and heavily eye-linered couple patiently standing in line for a smoothie at Pete's. I wonder what goes better with all those piercings: the Honeydew Bliss or the Jackie's Love Potion?

I love Robbie Burns. We've got a bunch of statues of men long dead in this town, but Robbie is my favourite. Standing watch in Victoria Park, he's firmly rooted at the intersection of "just one more drink" and "if I leave right now, and walk fast, I can get four hours of sleep". I spent many years living a few blocks south of him, and I loved being able to give directions to my place: "turn right at Robbie Burns". I also spent more than a few early mornings tiptoeing home past Robbie, shoes metaphorically in hand, and really, who better to witness my martini-fueled peccadilloes than a Scotsman with a bit of a reputation?

I love coffee. And lattes. And café au lait. And you have the best coffee shops. They're everywhere. And I don't mean Mr. Horton's. Funky or cozy, subterranean industrial chic or a sunlight warren of room after room in an old Victorian, I can get my fix any number of places. As a girl who needs her coffee, I really dig this. So much.

I love that a new wine bar is opening in our downtown, right next door to a fine purveyor of naughty literature and devices of a more prurient nature. I don't know a thing about zoning laws, but this is the kind of one-stop shopping I can get on board with.

I love how you love music. Maybe it's because you're a college town, but Ani Difranco, Wintersleep, and Basia Bulat all in the space of a couple weeks? Awesome. They no longer know my name at the doors of all the music clubs, but should I get a second wind, it's nice to know I could still get my band on. Figuratively, I mean.

I love that I can see the lights of the harbour from my front porch. And I love that the nearest lake is less than 10 minutes from my house. Some of the most memorable summer days I've spent here have been on a boat, sailing up the Arm and down the harbour, drinking wine, watching whales, and trying to remember which island is haunted, Georges or McNabs?

So you see, it's not just one thing, it's all the little things. It's your tree-lined streets, and all the great restaurants, and the film festival, and all the students every September, and your sense of history, and even, once every 18 months or so, your donairs. But mostly, it's being reminded, every once in a while, that there is no other place I'd rather be.