Waiting at airport, I miss my trailer. This morning, I discovered a goat lives on the campground premise -- just when I thought it couldn't get better. Instead of befriending "la chevre," I swept the floors, scrubbed the dishes and said "Goodbye." Now, an eight-hour plane ride seems best spent reflecting on the last two surreal weeks.

My trailer was a celebrated destination during the storms by campground friends staying in tents. Unlike rainy and cold-to-the-bone camping days in Canada, I could take, and not just dream about, a hot shower. Slummin' it in Cannes means I put plastic bags around my heels to walk through muddied trails, but if it means I walk from that mud to the red carpet, that's all right with me.

I was up early to head down to the short film corner, where a special initiative called "Le Pitch" was being held. I made sure to engage the camera, speak from the heart and appeal to whoever was watching like I was a motivational speaker. After all, that's what I needed to do. Motivate them to pick my project.

It was Friday night in Cannes and my friends and I were determined to get into a yacht party. We strolled the pier of millions-of-dollar yachts after millions-of-dollar yachts and found four with exclusive looking parties. The first one, flashing blue and purple lights and blasting club beats, was swarmed with paparazzi taking photos of Amanda Seyfried leaving.

I woke up early to meet international short film buyers at a special breakfast held by the festival. It's sort of like filmmaker speed dating. You grab a coffee, and rotate tables every ten minutes or so, pitching your film and handing out materials. A lot of people were excited by my film...

Today's adventure started with some pretty intense thunderstorms, which I have to say, literally dampened my mood for a long stretch of the day, even after the sun had come out. But I wasn't going to let a silly little grey cloud get in my way, so I myself "stormed" out of my little villa and proceeded to walk down to the Palais to catch Brandon Cronenberg's first screening of Antiviral.

The final crew to walk the carpet was the cast of Moonrise Kingdom. Bill Murray danced and Ed Norton spent a lot of time looking for someone. They seemed to have a lot more fun, and were less concerned with their poses than earlier, relatively unknown, carpet walkers. Oh the freedom of success. My turn to strut my stuff on "le tapis rouge" came sooner than expected. I now know that the first screening of many films at Cannes are for the press, at 8:30 a.m. So, the next morning at 7:30 a.m., I waited my turn to walk the red carpet for the first time, barely awake, in jeans, sandals and a blazer -- and it was totally worth it.

Everyone who walks by my trailer looks calm and friendly and not like trailer park axe murderers. This is reassuring because unlike canoe trips, I cannot sleep with my axe and bear spray. Now it is time to take on the Festival. There is no full-length mirror, so let's just hope I look good and feel confident enough to meet that French producer. A bientôt.

When I received the invitation to Cannes, I knew I had to make the most of it. I could go for the few days and sleep in a nice hotel, OR, I could stay at the elegant-sounding Parc Bellevue -- a mobile home trailer park 6km from the Palais des Festivals. I am staying at "Le Camping" -- as the Festival organizers call it -- because I have to, and lucky for me, I kinda want to.