Revenant

Definition:   Noun - One who returns after death (as a ghost) or after a long absence.

I feel like a kid returning to the scene of the crime. I am the Aussie revenant, and the small town of Kensington takes up a disproportionately large space in my mind than it deserves. It was only a five month stint, back in 86, but I remember it as a quaint but creepy place, a more befitting backdrop for a Stephen King novel than Anne of Green Gables. The fog has risen overnight, the sun is out, and the white-panted houses twinkle in the sun. Already, the towns 'creepy' mythical status is dissolving. The weather is uncharacteristically warm, around 25 degrees and balmy. The weather is important and here and it's an oft talked about subject (next to potato farming of course).

The first big 'store' is a 'Bakin' donuts', and because I am with witty wordly people (only one untypical ex-islander amongst us) we laugh about the double-entendre (Bacon donuts) and from now on we call it 'pig donuts'. There is a **new** frosty treat across the road which opened 5 or ten years ago, but was previously the Kensington Dairy Bar (been there). We have scallops, chips, cheeseburgers and 'pop' for lunch. While we wait for our 'meal' the locals on either side can't help but 'chat'. Between big long icecream slurps I hear about 'the friend that got away' (an off island visitor that came while the host was away...!) It would be normal to expect to 'drop in' and visit an island without announcement. Afterall, it would be usual to expect them to be there. Richard, my ex-island 'buddy' doesn't need to drop in on anyone (except his mum), as we lunch, dinner, drive and generally galavant about, people are where you expect them to be. 'That's old Donald blah blah blah's farm...I see someone in the field. Let's just drop by'. Donald blah blah is 'sprayin' potatoes', and gives Richard permission to 'pull some tops' (dig some potatoes). Richard points out all the local contacts -lots of 'cousins', people he's worked with and old school pals - all who have stayed 'on island'. 'Hey Richard, how's it going?' we hear from the next table...'remember when....?' Richards old school house is still standing (just), it's barn-like structure greying and sunken, and the windows smashed. Ethan gets closer and hears a radio coming from the barn. It's back to Stephen King scenarios again...

We all love listening to Richards 'growing up in PEI' stories - the classroom with a seated row for each year (year one at front, two second, three third etc). The midnight potato raids. Helpin' out on the 'fa-armm'. We reminisce about broken down cars in deserted summer campgrounds, as the snow fell and wen thought we were going to die until the hair-lipped man saved us...The number of times I put a car into a snow ditch, my feeble attempts at entering licensed premises when everyone on the island knew who I was and that I wasn't yet 19. I love asking him about people, knowing the answer will most likely be 'there still here - on island'. I am mesmerized by the thought that there are people here who have NEVER been 'off-island'.

We chat to lots of people and Richard is proud to introduce his off-shore wife and son, and his Aussie friend. I forget how many times I have been asked about Kangaroos, Koalas and Steve Irwin, but it's considerable. Crocodile Dundee, Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House are a close second. But my favorite question is 'did you have anything to do with Oprah when she was there?'

We are a slightly odd mix to be traveling around PEI. We don't see other Asians or colored people anywhere (or dreadlocks), and even our canine companions are exotic breeds (Tibetan-spaniel and shitsu- chihuahua something-er-other). 

The day is full of advernture though, as we take boardwalks along the marina's explore the crumbling red cliffs along the seaside, and ride motorbikes along the red dirt of then PEI coast. Ethan is a well travelled 13 year old boy and the best motorbike tour guide I have met yet. Vina goes for a jog and Richard stays back to attend to some household duties. Once again I am reminded that my companions are a far cry from stock- standard islanders.