‘Hey, do you want to see some Culture this weekend?’
Georgia interrupted my train of thought with this striking request in the middle of our weekly meeting. I was a little taken aback, I don’t think I’d ever been asked to spend the weekend ‘seeing’ Culture before. Ever since our town was voted #167 in the Top 200 up and coming cultural cities in North America, everyone seems to want to get on the bandwagon and explore the ‘sights’. No doubt where the idea of seeing Culture came from.
‘Sure. Like what?’ She must have sensed the fear in my voice, the fear of planning things to do. I don’t dislike weekend activities but I do not enjoy being the one to corral several people to meet up for something to do, especially when everyone has babies, parents, church, movies or Walmart trips on the brain.
What I didn’t know is that the magazine that assigned the rankings also made a list of attractions, restaurants and events for each city. Our schedule was already made. Georgia pointed out that we just had to follow their instructions and in doing so, we would fully be up to date with what our city had to offer. I decided to trust my colleague and even took it a step further by not mentioning a word of it until the weekend. I was to be surprised with all this Culture in town even if I sensed failure and disappointment. I avoided any contact with the internet, newspaper, and even the local news, for fear of stumbling upon a report about the local petting zoo or potato sack race happening in town. For someone who felt hesitant at the start of this adventure, by Friday morning, I was ecstatic about the element of surprise the C-word carried.
On Friday, after work, Georgia thrust upon us a visit to the new bar that had opened up Downtown, as a way to unwind and prep for our big weekend. This boutique bar was called ‘Sass’. It was a clever name. The team behind this establishment gave up a career in auditioning for television and in turn, hired other unemployed actors. The actors would vent their frustrations about the industry through the characters of the roles they didn’t get while serving you expensive cocktails you could have had at the local Applebee’s. I had a Tequila Mockingbird, a play on word which I appreciated, while Thomas, our server/bartender, yelled (at us? with us?) about his father abandoning him for a younger woman. I am not a casting director but I probably wouldn’t have hired him either. The drink, on the other hand, was actually quite refreshing. By the end of the evening, the server who took over for Thomas, her name was Feather, I think, had made me cry with her stunningly beautiful ‘open letter to my parents who can go fuck themselves’ while serving us yet another round of Gin Memberships. If I may also indulge in a moment of honesty, I don’t know if my tears came from her performance or the alcohol. Either way, if this was Culture in our city, our weekend was going to be just fine.
Saturday was the big day! It was jam-packed with a lot of Culture. The first stop in our enlightenment tour was at the recently opened Minimalist Museum which garnered certain critical attention for its…minimal qualities? The first thing I noticed was that the price point for the museum did not reflect its namesake, there’s nothing minimal about paying $18.75 for the main exhibition entitled ‘even if you look closer, you ain’t gonna see it’. I almost felt attacked by this frank language. ‘Maybe it’s all part of the experience’, my colleague Deborah so delightfully squealed in my ear. She had, in a previous life, been an urbanite and so I was inclined to give it the benefit of the doubt. We lined up, patiently waiting with 10’s of other people who obviously were on the same journey as us as they all held the magazine article in their hands. The couple of young hipsters (artists) who opened the museum had recently moved back to the area after living in New York for four months, unable to make a living but able to realise that people could fall for anything if you make it shiny enough. That’s what the program said word for word. The main gallery was empty. That was the exhibit. Clever. Two other wings of minimalism surrounded it. One of these included a blank painting (I would call it a canvas) hung with the description ‘THE FAILURE OF CAPITALISM’. Got me. The whole museum tour took 14 minutes, including the gift shop and a stop to the bathroom, which took the longest, as most of us vomited up last nights’ Gin Memberships.
We stopped by a food truck before heading to our next venue. I think it was so smart to include food in a list of cultural activities. It was voted #8, or was just in the eight position of the 10 Korean taco trucks that exist within a six mile radius. They were good. Ironically, I had already eaten Korean tacos at the #3 and #5 and #9 trucks earlier this week. I was giddy at the thought of having been eating culture all along.
Saturday afternoon was meant for another exciting activity selected from the list of reviewed options in the magazine. We scheduled a visit to an artisan furniture maker whose creations were meant to put us back in touch with our relationship with nature. I didn’t realise that counted. My understanding of Culture, I will admit, has been lacking. When we got to the showroom/workshop/beautiful house complete with pool and sauna, I was surprised to see many simple pieces of wood. I don’t mean furniture made of wood, but pieces of wood acting as furniture. The most common item was a table made from a tree stump. Nothing else had been done, no reshaping or sanding. No varnish or special design. It was tagged ‘fresh from farm coffee table - $1450’. I understand the house size now.
By the end of the evening, Georgia hadn’t had enough, even though we had followed the woodcutter with a myriad of other Cultural activities. We went to a performance, not a play, they are just called performances apparently, where an artist crushed grapes with their raw body to make wine. It would have been weirder had we not got a free tasting at the end. We also participated in a parade created to celebrate the diversity and individuality of human beings. The concept was beautiful until I looked back on it and realised a group of us just walked down the main street while a few organisers threw stickers and candy at us. One of the locals took offence and a street brawl ensued. I don’t know if it had the impact it anticipated.
The rest of the group was headed to the new silent restaurant called SHHHHHH, that had just had its soft opening, which means it’s open but not really when I decided to make my way home. I was exhausted from today’s festivities. I Came, I Saw, I Cultured. It was written on a sticker I picked up at the parade. I stuck it to my fridge and got into bed with a cup of tea. I bought the tea a little earlier today at one of our events. What makes this tea so rare is that a machine has never touched the leaves. They have been picked, held, and/or carried, from tree to store, by a mere 72 people. As I lie here sipping a drink I’ll never have again, I hear the familiar ping from my cellphone. It’s a text from Georgia. ‘You up for it again tomorrow?’
No fucking way.