Fishtrap, Fishtrap, Fishy Fishy Fishtrap!

So, this BC Lit class, this 8am class where I get to catch the sun rising over UBC. We got the topics for our final projects today. When he first talked about it, the prof mentioned that it would be mostly places, and we would be expected to “deep map” our assigned places. And so I figured, ‘oooh, I’ll hop in my car, drive up there, take 14 million pictures, harass the tourists, get drunk with the locals, and really find out what this place is about.’ When it came time to pull my tiny scrap of paper out of a hat, I was taken aback to discover this word (at least I THINK it’s a word):



Umm, well… hmm. Population of ‘fishtrap’? Yeah, not so much. I don’t think my car will make it. I was one of the few who didn’t get a place in the traditional sense, but a term. One that I’ve never heard before. You know, I’m not completely sure that it isn’t just made up. Like… Suggin Buggin (the only difference being that Suggin Buggin actually IS the name of a town in Australia).

But… we’ve been encouraged to “think of a place not just as a human-defined place, but as the habitat of other species” (yes, I sometimes copy down notes word-for-word in full sentences). Not the physical landmass as much as the story, the interactions. Maybe, maybe, maybe, this is a good thing. If there is no hunk of land to attach to this “fishtrap”, maybe I’m ahead of the game. Or maybe… not.

In thinking about place, I’ve been looking back on the past six months. I realize that “Australia” isn’t confined to a big island across the Pacific Ocean. There’s so much more attached to it. It was a place (and by place I guess I mean a ‘period’) in my life that has left a permanent mark on my character. A place to look at myself independent from the comfort and familiarity of twenty years lived in the Lower Mainland. I learned so much about me, about ‘not me’. I learned things that I really like about myself, and things that I really, really don’t. Australia, that beautiful, beautiful place, is an emotion, a state of being, a process, a rite of passage. It’s memories that survive in my head as images and conversations. There are lots and lots of layers, to match, I suppose, the fragmented thought that I’m stuck with as I try to work my way through this all.

Maybe ‘fishtrap’ is a process, or part of a cycle.

MEHHHHHHHHHH.