I saw the most amazing thing today. I was lazing on my stomach on the field across the street under the shade of the Oak trees, and heard a voice singing. I lifted my head to see an old man cycling along the street with headphones on. He was singing Paul Simon’s ‘Crazy Love’ “I don’t want no part of your crazy love. I don’t want no part of your love” so loudly… and so well. I couldn’t help myself. I grinned at him as he passed by and lay there laughing for a good few minutes and hitting the ground in happiness. It truly made my day. If not my week. Once Vancouver’s thermometers hit 20 degrees and the sun is out, the city goes wild with Summer. Bikini clad girls and topless guys dozing in the sun on the field for hours, and the beaches become quite crowded. Everybody’s drinking iced coffee, slushies and eating ice creams. I’m not complaining. I think it’s wonderful. For me it’s not stinking hot summer, but everybody’s acting like it is summer… so I seem to have found my medium; the atmosphere of summer without the heat and humidity. Sunday afternoon I spent 3 hours lying on my stomach on Kitsilano Beach. I’m not usually that type of person to just lie on a beach for hours. I get freaked out of sunburn and the sand. But here, the sun doesn’t seem as fierce, and their sand is grainier so when it sticks to the side of your face (for some reason or another) or the palms of your hands, it’s not a battle to wipe or clap it off. I was in my element. It was so relaxing I do believe I started drooling a little and had to keep disturbing myself so I wouldn’t fall asleep.
Once I finally got too hot for the sand, I walked across the street and bought my new addiction. Starbucks’ Extra Coffee Caramel Frappucino without whip. It can’t be any good for me, but there’s nothing like it. Icy cold and sweet with the extra kick of coffee. I sat at the bar near the open windows next to a guy with a Canon and I struck up conversation with him. We ended up wandering back down to the beach and he taught me a whole ton of technical stuff about my camera. Or, photography in general. Extremely interesting and helpful. Somehow it’s easier to take in when it’s not your brother explaining it all haha. We exchanged numbers. It never hurts knowing someone in the photography business, I figured. Things are starting to become more normal now. For example, when I sit in the front seat of a car, I can relax without feeling the need to watch the road at all times and pay attention to all traffic movements. When I hand over money for a cup of coffee I no longer feel violated. Just numb. Hearing the kids ask for Cheerios or Oreos no longer makes me feel I’m in an American movie. I don’t even notice accents anymore. Except for the English girl at Wholefoods who was clearly extenuating her accent in the most irritating manner. Yes, girl, we do realise you are from England. You don’t need to sound so … English. I find myself trying to blend in with the accents instead of sticking out. I still haven’t worked up the guts to say “G’Day Mate” to the cashier. It’s just me. I would break out laughing and never recover. I’m enjoying the relaxed games of baseball played in the park almost every evening. I love to sit and watch them play, listening to the playful banter between players and opposing teams. It’s a pretty relaxed affair. Friends or family sit in their camp chairs on the sidelines drinking their beer and satiating the mammoth dogs they bring along. All the dogs want to do is eat the miniature dogs being walked past. I was asked to join in a game of baseball that I was watching on Sunday evening but totally chickened out in what was a terrible decision on my part. I never have forgotten my first ‘game’. It would’ve been awesome. But, oh well. I’ll just make sure that when I get asked to join in a game of Ice Hockey I’ll be “Sure thing, I’ll just throw on my skates and be right out!” I can just imagine my finesse. I went for a 10km bike ride around Stanley Park last Sunday afternoon. It was easier than I thought it might be, so I made the bad decision of going around twice. As soon as I was on the second loop it began to rain, but I persisted. This is Vancouver, people. Halfway through the loop I made a reckless decision to pass some slow children and rode onto the footpath where there were no people. It was all fine until I went to get back up onto the biker’s path where there was a largish gutter. I somehow forgot that you actually have to lift the handlebars up a little…. And consequently slid sideways onto the ground, scraping my left arm and whacking my head. Helmets are pretty cool after all, I’ve decided. My arm didn’t really hurt until I arrived home and had to clean the dirt off the raw flesh and then it all started feeling rather stiff and achy. Let’s just say that for the next week it was hard to shower, get dressed/undressed, do my hair, pack the dishwasher… all the monotonous chores that need doing, sadly. So that was my biking adventure, but I’m longing to get back on the bike again. I just have to wait for my hand to heal a little more. Give it a couple more days and I’ll be off again, taking more sensible routes. A few weekends ago I sailed across to Vancouver Island yet again and Ryan, Justin, Stefan and I drove across the Island to Tofino, famous surfing beach town. The beaches were lovely but it was just an incredibly windy day on the sand. I’m sure our ankles were sandblasted by the end of the day. At least, mine were. The drive over was somehow more spectacular that the destination. Massive trees, deep lakes, two bears, snow-capped mountains, rushing rapids, winding roads… and a most intense game which involves punching the roof of the car whenever you spot a car with only one headlight/taillight. Things can become quite heated and you can become a little obsessive. or maybe I’m just speaking for myself hehe! Even now, if I’m walking down the street and I spot a car without a headlight and have the crazy urgency to punch my fist in the air.
I’m lounging on the capacious deck chair on the square of lawn in the backyard. Wearing my pyjama pants, a t-shirt, sunglasses and bare feet, I listen to Riley chewing her bone at the foot of the chair. She’s been at it for hours on this stunning Monday morning. A neighbour in the distance is mowing their lawn; I can occasionally hear the cry of a child at the playground across the park. I’m just lying here thinking that life is pretty bliss right at this moment, and I hear a pair of Canadian Geese overhead. I open my eyes and the two large birds fly side by side directly over me, honking. Closing my eyes again as they disappear over the neighbour’s roof, I can’t help but smile. I’m in Canada.
Yes, I know I’ve been here for almost three months. But now that the weather has suddenly started to scream SUMMER at me this past weekend, I really feel the real Canada coming on. I got sunburnt laying out here yesterday for a few hours. It was a pleasant feeling, but something I wasn’t expecting for a few more months.
I love how Vancouver is so alive. I’ve never felt anything like it in Australia. The place just makes you want to get out and jog around the park, to go for a bike ride down to the beach for breakfast, to go hiking and rock climbing, camping and swimming. No wonder Canadians are famous for the expression “out and about”! I can’t wait for what Summer has to offer me over here. Don’t expect me back in any time in the near future!
I have a large black bumblebee hovering around the enormous lilac bush outside my bedroom window. The buds that I thought would never emerge have finally unfolded, along with the plant producing some beautiful purple lilacs that I wake up to every morning after pulling my blinds up to unveil that amazing view. The snow is disappearing from the mountains. Only thin slivers remain on the mountains right behind the city, and the bottom of the ski run on Grouse Mountain exposes more dirt every day.
The Oak trees lining 22nd W Avenue are creating a curtain of green, forming a screen of privacy but taking away some of my view. Green leaves are better than brown branches any day, though. I feel as if I’m living in a tree house. Walking down the hallway into my bedroom, all I can see is a curtain of green behind a single vase of tulips on my windowsill. It’s quite something. Much more preferable than looking at the side of a house or cars in the street.
Pavements have a coating of fallen blossom petals that fall with the strong breezes, and then turn soggy after rain, creating a precarious carpet to walk over. I found out the hard way. But the flowers are stunning. Some tulips grow as large as my hand, and bluebells find all sorts of places to grow.
Today, Friday, is stunning. I found myself feeling a little too warm walking back from the train in jeans and a t-shirt. The only thing keeping my jeans on is the light breeze that suddenly finds you from around a corner and makes you shiver. I’m looking forward to summer so much.
I’ve been jogging around the running track at across the street for a week now. I think every lap is 1 kilometre. I did 5 last night. Alternating between walking and jogging. It’s such a great feeling when you’re finished that the sore shins are totally worth it. I tend to start around 7:30, when the friendly baseball games usually start. When my ipod stops giving me good songs to jog to I pull the earplugs out and just listen to the sounds of the park. The ever-present laughing and yelling from the playground in the centre of the park, the loud thwack of a bat hitting a baseball and the consequent clapping or loud cry of “Wow! Nice one!”, the idle chit chat of joggers lapping me, and on Wednesday evenings there’s a large and boisterous group of Australians who play Aussie Rules in the middle of the field. Strange.
Once my laps are done I find a swing in the now almost deserted playground and swing myself back and forth, back and forth. Cooling down and just enjoying the twilight. Yesterday evening there was a large dog chasing a small remote control monster truck across the field. It was incredibly amusing. The truck could go that little bit faster than the dog but the dog just kept chasing and chasing. Great exercise, I’m sure.
I’ve been over to Courtenay on Vancouver Island twice now. I can’t wait to go back again. Given, the ferry ride is rather long and then you have to drive an hour and a bit from Nanaimo, but once I get up to Courtenay it doesn’t matter. It’s a country town/city. Trucks dominate. Lifted trucks dominate. It’s country music stations, horse and rider down the lane. I’ve had such an awesome experience over with the Enns’. Going up to Mount Washington, learning to ride a quad bike, horse riding, hot tub on the back deck under the stars, bonfire on the beach, bonfire in the woods, farmer’s markets, raging rivers that I can’t wait to swim in during summer once they’ve died down and so much more.
Right, I’m off for a bike ride around Shaughnessy under the gigantic Oak Trees and over the sun dappled avenues on this superb Friday afternoon!
So, I was a fool and stayed up until 3am this morning. The wind was positively howling outside my window, with the lilac bush scratching away at the gauze til all hours while I lay on my back and listened to hours and hours of music rather loud. It was worth it. I woke at 8am in a stupor of tiredness. My morning was quiet. I forget what I did, so obviously nothing so spectacular. Maybe a smoothie and some waffles with Nutella. I spent some time gazing out the front window at the heavily frosted mountains straight ahead. They were beautiful today. Last nights storm must’ve been pretty wicked up there.
The day was sunny but the wind was cruel. Riley and I were almost blown over walking to school to get Aida. The wind whipped straight through all my layers.
The past few weeks have been busy. Not so busy that I haven’t had time to write. I just haven’t had the energy, sadly. I went to Victoria on Vancouver Island on the 26th March for two nights and stayed with Leah Hutchings, who was an incredible person to couch crash with.
I was house cleaning that morning but had to walk to catch the train to catch the bus at 12:45pm. Sitting on the train I realised I was quite stressed about catching the bus in time… but what could I do? I couldn’t make the train go any faster nor could I run any faster that I already was with baggage. So I relaxed… until I reached Pacific Central, found the desk for buying a bus ticket and saw that there were five other people lined up to buy a ticket and there was only 10 minutes until the bus left! I worry too much. Everything was fine.
As soon as the bus began backing out of the parking lot I felt so excited. This was my first weekend out of Vancouver since I’d arrived. It was about time I got out and explored outside the city.
Although it cost me $90 return, catching the bus from downtown Vancouver through to downtown Victoria was very pleasurable. The bus takes you right onto the ferry with priority, and then you’re the first vehicle off and on your way to Victoria ahead of the masses of cars getting off the ferry. I now take the $16 route, by taking the train to Richmond and then catching a public bus that takes you right to the ferry terminal. The $16 also includes the ferry. Sweet.
On the ferry I wandered into a buffet, paid $20 and ate my little heart out. Salmon, chicken, salad, meatballs, pasta, dessert, coffee, chocolate. Yes, I ate a fair bit, but I figured I may as well get my $20 worth, and I hadn’t eaten breakfast either. The food was great.
I took the stairs up to the ‘sun’ deck. Alas, there was no sun. The wind was incredibly strong as I stood right at the front of the ship trying to brace myself against the railing to take a photo. I was a fool and had left WAL down in my suitcase on the bus. My hair was flying all over the place and making knots that even Scouts couldn’t recognise. I ended up wrapping my large orange scarf around my head and then around my neck to keep my hair at bay. I looked like I was about to go driving in the 1950s in a convertible. All I needed was a pair of Ray-Bans and red lipstick.
I figured that it was quite unattractive yet necessary for taking photos… but apparently someone didn’t seem to mind. I noticed a thin guy standing a metre or two away from me. He kept looking over at me and I began to wonder if the scarf really was that bad. He asked me if I had a lighter and whether I was a professional photographer. I smiled. No, I didn’t have a lighter. No, but I wish I was a professional photographer. We crouched down at the corner of the railing to protect ourselves from the wind and chatted for a good hour, I would say. He was from north British Columbia and owned a farm. There was a long-winded conversation about the government and their butchery laws. I didn’t mind. It was nice talking to a stranger.
Around 15 minutes before we were due to dock, he suddenly asked me if I’d like to see his wolf. I paused mentally, wondering where this was going. He insisted that he had a real wolf down in his truck on level 4 of the boat. I didn’t like the idea of going down alone with this guy to a car deck and seeing his wolf. Especially with his dread-locked friends lurking around smoking.
The cogs in my head turned for a few seconds before I realised that I was on an adventure. Of course I’d go down and see his wolf. If I disappeared in the process… it was all part of the adventure.
But, seriously, folks.
As it turned out, the car deck with also populated with people and I felt really safe. The Yukon wolf was so beautiful. She was tame, but apparently both her parents were wild. That excited me. Fortunately I had the excuse of our imminent docking to allow me to leave without it being to awkward. I took a touristy photo of the wolf and was on my way.
The bus terminated in downtown Victoria and I was picked up by Leah and taken to her flat in James Bay. James Bay is such a great location. Close to town, close to the water… and some nice houses. Leah took me out to a breakwall with a lighthouse at the end. I loved it. I love those kind of places where you walk along a peninsular and at the end you’re surrounded by water. It’s so serene. It was very windy and cold though. My knuckles were stinging as I had my hands out of my pockets to take numerous photos.
I went to Victoria CYC that Friday night and some really great people. Everybody was so friendly and so many of them know at least a handful of Australians.
Saturday morning Leah took me to Tim Hortons, her favourite for breakfast and a coffee. It was so cheap and so delicious, but like she said, you wouldn’t particularly want to eat in there. The patrons tend to be a little rough looking. We zipped in and out. My breakfast bagel was North-Americanly yummy.
We drove for ages. Along the coast mainly, stopping at lookouts to be blown over by the wind and blown away by the view. I finally bought some postcards from a store, which I shall have to buy stamps for and fill them out, as promised to many.
I told Leah that I hadn’t been in proper woods yet, so we drove a little out of Victoria and parked on the side of a road outside a National Park. I could not get over how green it was once we were inside amongst the trees and the stream. It was so beautiful. Eerie, also. I hate to resort to this, but it really reminded me of the Twilight movies. The trees were covered in thick moss, the ground was covered in pine needles and the stream was deliciously picturesque. We happened upon a bright yellow fire hydrant which I found quite hilarious, it being amongst such a damp habitat and so randomly placed.
We kept walking and came out from the under the shaded path and walked into a grove of birch trees where the sun was dappled onto the ground through the budding birches. Birds sang so sweetly and I was happy, despite the stench of nearby skunk flowers. These flowers are an attractive yellow and have a pleasant form, but then you realise that they are the offending objects to your nose. We walked downhill a little until we found an inlet from the ocean. The air was fresh, the birds were singing, the water was calm, traffic could not be heard, the sun was warm… what else could you need.
We drove to Oak Bay Marina and walked between the boats looking for seals. And seals there were. They suddenly pop their heads up out of the water, open their large nostrils for air and gaze at you with their large inky black eyes. They just float there, sitting like an old, rotund man. I couldn’t take enough photos. The water was so clear that when the seal dove down to the bottom, you could see him sitting down there looking back up at you. I’ll never forget it.
That evening I went back to the breakwall and the lighthouse with my camera, only a few blocks to the water from Leah’s apartment. The wind wasn’t as brisk as the previous evening, making it a pleasant walk. I was rushing along, trying to catch the sunset, hoping that the clouds would suddenly part, but I was stopped halfway along the wall by the sight of two seals wallowing in the water in front of some boats. There was a man in a red jumper videoing them from the wall and a seagull eyeing them off. Yet another breathtaking moment.
I spent half an hour or more sitting on the edge of the wall underneath the lighthouse, taking in the view, the smells and the experience. Unfortunately, the sun didn’t pop out to say “hi” right at the horizon like I thought it might have, but the view of the Olympic Mountains in Washington State were incredible. They stretched on for ages along the horizon. I could see their white tops of snow. I hadn’t realised the USA was so close.
Swiftly becoming cold as the sun disappeared, I headed back along the wall and caught up with a young guy with a Canon and chatted to him the whole way back. He was originally from Calgary and studying at the nearby Victoria University. We mostly talked about our cameras and our photos, seeing as we both seemed to be at the same stage in our experience with them. It was really interesting chatting to him, and then just saying goodbye at the end when he got into his car and I walked down the street. I think it’s fascinating to meet random people like that. Only knowing them for a few minutes or an hour or so, and that’s it. It made your day though.
Sunday I went to the Victoria ecclesia. It was very good to hear the talk and meet more people. I registered for the Shawnigan Youth Conference the next weekend, excited for the long weekend ahead. That afternoon I wandered around downtown Victoria, ate a huge waffle with berries, ice cream and chocolate sauce for lunch, perused a secondhand bookstore, discovered an amazing artist and her gallery, put my umbrella up, took it down, bought two reduced scarves at The Bay to satisfy my scarf addiction, and put my umbrella back up again, before catching the 3:45pm bus out of Victoria and onto the ferry again. This was my favourite ferry ride so far. The weather was stormy and I stood out on the side deck in the cold and the wind with a warm coffee, my ipod and Mumford and Sons. Tapping my feet to the beat and smiling to myself in the numerous good parts of the songs.
When I returned home, having had the bus drop me off at King Edward Avenue and walking 5 minutes in the rain, I dropped my bags onto my bedroom floor and fell back onto my bed, where I lay for 45 minutes, collecting my brain. Ignoring the household activities just outside my open door. It had been so good to get out of Vancouver and to meet new people.
Tuesday 30th March, I was free to head downtown to the Vancouver International Auto Show for a couple of hours. I figured there may be a long line, it being the first day and all. So I arrived at 10:30am… to a wasteland at BC Place. There were no staff members or anything, to let me know what was happening. It being cold, windy and drizzly outside, I had a watery coffee and stale bagel with cream cheese at a café across the street. The old man behind the counter took forever to put the order together, and even longer to ring it up on the cash register, then insisted that I give him all of my small coins that I never use so he could give me a $2 coin in exchange. He needed change, it seemed. I could barely understand his deep European accent. My coffee was getting cold as we worked it all out, but I put it down to a memorable moment and accepted the cold watery coffee and uncomfortable chair.
I was third in line for the Motor Show, and the lady at the entrance ripped my ticket in half accidentally as she pulled the stub off, so now I only have half a memory. Inside was 2 full hours of fun, fun, fun. My camera didn’t like the lighting very much and there was often to much clutter around the cars to get many nice photos. I sat in a Jaguar for 10 minutes. Testing the sound system, changing gears, talking to it, telling it where I lived so it could break free to come and fetch me. It was my kind of car. I sat in a top of the line BMW M3, and had a salesman talk and talk and talk until I finally asked for his business card and pretended that I owned a Volkswagen Golf when he asked me what I was currently driving. Unfortunately, nothing more spectacular jumped into my mind at that moment. The Supercars were more than a little disappointing. The four-door Aston Martin is an absolute shame. The Ferrari’s were lovely, though.
I had walked past a dark, dark olive-green 2007 Porsche 911 Turbo earlier in my wanderings, but it wasn’t for sitting in or looking at. It was to promote a special car wax, but I couldn’t help gazing at the car. On my third time walking passed, I stopped and asked the older guy there whether they had any charities. He asked me which charity and I said the “Give a Porsche to Melanie” charity. That made him laugh and he asked his associate whether they had any charities under that name. I asked them about the car for a couple of minutes and found out that it was privately owned and they weren’t allowed to have anyone sit in it.
Well, it didn’t take too long for me to break that rule. The first guy went and found the keys, and the second guy unlocked the sweet thing. I slid inside with grace, feeling at home as the seat curved tightly around me and I sat back, clutching the wheel like I never wanted to let go.
I explored almost every Audi, except for the R8, unfortunately. The TTS was very nice. It sat low to the ground and I wish I had the keys. The Q7 was large and cumbersome but the sound system was superb. I think it turned a few heads as I turned it right up. Whoops.
The last stop was by the orange Lamborghini Superleggera. This was no ordinary orange. It was a fast, mean orange. The car seemed to be travelling at extraordinary speed although it was sitting stationary. The way it’s hunched forward gives the appearance of speed.
I must’ve stood staring for far too long, as the guy sitting beside it offered to show me the inside… from behind the barrier, mind you. The inside was very clean and modern. Everything you would expect. The guy’s name was Blake. We talked for ages. Mostly about cars and how he came to have this awesome job of driving Supercars for a living. It was so good to chat to someone who thought about cars the same way as I do. He was just the lucky one who got to drive them.
On Wednesday, the luminescent clock face showed 11:50am. I bundled on my vest, tied my scarf tightly as a protective measure and faced the onslaught of water from above. I cut a lone figure across the field with a monstrous polka-dotted umbrella and swirly rain boots. There was a sense of invincibility in my lower limbs as I squelched through the mud and every available puddle on the sidewalk.
Thursday morning I had to be with the kids from 7:30 – 10am. Clocking striking 11am, I was out the door heading to the train with my luggage. I then caught the bus right down to the Tswassen Ferry Terminal. A 45 minutes ride costing me only $3.75.
On the ferry as we were just slipping between two islands, there was a killer whale sighting. It wasn’t terribly spectacular, but still exciting to finally see them in the wild. They didn’t hang around for long. Sightings from the ferry are apparently quite rare. Given that this was only my third ride, I figured I was pretty lucky.
The Shawnigan Youth Conference was fantastic. There were about 60 young people there ranging from 14 to 28, I would day. Sadly, the weather was atrocious all long weekend. Massive winds and driving rain. There were even snowflakes falling briefly on Saturday morning during breakfast. My first. The winds made the fir trees sway from side to side quite severely. However, we spent most of our time indoors. The power was out for a few hours due to fallen trees on the road. How interesting if it had lasted all weekend. The lake just outside was so rough and grey. It wasn’t the best first lake camp experience in terms of a beautiful sunny weekend, but the mud made it fun to take photos of people all messed up.
I just received a text message from my sister on my phone sitting on the window sill. I sent a reply immediately and as I put the phone back down, it struck me how amazing it was that I was communicating with her as easily as that from across the other side of the world.
I stayed Sunday night at the Bennett’s and woke ‘early’ at 10am. This is considered an early morning for the morning after a long weekend camp. I found my way down to the stables and met the 30-odd year old horse. The ring he was in was so muddy and chopped up by hooves but I wanted to say hello to the bay horse. After some strategic planning, I tiptoed out onto the mud and the latched onto the side of the stables, holding myself upright and treading on the least disturbed sections of ground until I reached flat dry ground. I had the great experience of climbing over a fence again, albeit in my best stockings and a skirt. Don’t ask me why I was wearing that. I just was. Point being, it was pleasant feeling to navigate climbing over a fence after such a long time.
I drove my first wrong-side-of-the-road vehicle on Monday. Almost side swiped a pole, having lost all sense of size and situation on the other side of the car. Mary said her heart stopped beating for a couple of seconds. But otherwise it was really fun to drive again. All I had to do was just concentrate on where I was going next and I was fine. Changing lanes was a peculiar feeling and I kept having the feeling that someone was going to drive up along side me on my left side. It was driving the car that I saw my first wild deer running across the road into somebody’s garden.
I’m off to Courtney, Vancouver Island this weekend. I can’t get enough of the island. Fingers crossed the weather is fine. The forecasts are all over the place here.
I truly wish waves of inspiration weren’t so fleeting. I wish it would last. It was recommended to me to peruse Rodney Smith’s photography. I did. I know he’s been working for more than 40 years and has travelled extensively, but I wish I could somehow compare with him. From my research, it seems as though he mainly does black and whites. They’re so beautiful. They often say so much more than colour photography because objects have to speak in a different way. It’s all in the light. The way the object responds to the light. I love the subtlety. His work makes me sublimely happy and I need to keep that feeling with my own.
“when you photograph people in colour you photograph their clothes. but when you photograph people in B&W, you photograph their souls!” ~ ted grant
So who was that crazy girl walking across the sodden field in the harrying rain? Yes, that was I. I could barely see the house ahead as I had to try and dodge the hidden mud and hope that the paper bag carrying a heavy milk carton and other assorted groceries would not break due to its sodden state.
I had glanced up at the sky when I locked the front door before leaving, and decided that I’d be safe without an umbrella or even a rain jacket. A couple of spots every now and again weren’t going to hurt. But after dropping my movies off, a coffee at Beans with a front to back reading of a painfully shallow People magazine and a stop at the grocery store, the rain had set in, falling quite hard. The hood on my hoodie was used for maybe the first time and I hastened home under the blossom trees that were raining blossom petals almost as hard as it was precipitating.
Learn, Mel. This is Vancouver. Weather changes at the drop of a hat. If it looks like rain, it’s going to rain. Don’t kid yourself.
However, Thursday and Friday were both blissfully sunny and incredibly balmy for this time of year. On Friday I woke early and learnt how to use the terribly complicated blender. I make a mean smoothie. Banana, blueberries, strawberries, yoghurt, milk, honey… yum. I was my usual ‘need to know what I’m getting myself into’ self and studied a map of the University of British Columbia, just so I knew where I’d be… if I got lost. If that even makes sense. Turns out I did get lost. Why didn’t I notice the sun wasn’t in the right place in the sky? Duh!
I walked down to 16th and caught the 33 straight along 16th where it turns into UBC and I hopped off at the first stop in the University, not having really grasped the size of the campus and due to my abnormal fear of staying on the bus waiting for the last stop when in fact it’s leaving the area I want without even stopping. I’ve found it safest to hop off at the first stop available. It results in a whole lot of walking, but hey.
So, I must’ve walked for a good hour before I actually reached the Museum of Anthropology. I found I was even heading in the opposite direction for 20 minutes. So much for my sense of direction. I normally take pride in it. It must’ve been an off day.
The Museum was interesting. Lots of tall wooden figures with scary faces, hand-carved boats, disturbing masks, authentic moccasins and headdresses, ritzy washrooms.
Quick note, if you ask a person in a public place where the closest toilets are, you’ll most likely receive a strange look. They know what you’re talking about… but I think they’d much prefer you to ask where the washrooms are, or the bathroom. Toilets is kind of an icky word, I’m guessing. It’s more like “Hey, I just have to use the bathroom”, instead of “Hey, I just need to go to the toilet”. Toilet seems crass over here.
I paid $12 to see the Botanical Gardens at UBC. It always hurts to pay money to see a garden. I guess they have to pay the gardeners… but it still seems like a rip-off, because nature is nature. Anyway, I got to take some beautiful photos in the gardens and the scenery was just lovely. Small streams with stepping stones, romantic bridges, a small beach at the side of a glassy pond, strange moss/grass covering the whole ground, a pleasant crunchy pathway and a Zen feeling.
I’m feeling greedy. I need two cameras. I guessed it would come. Now that I have two lenses, I’m finding it particularly annoying having to change them every five minutes. I know I should be a little less hasty with the swapping and changing as you get dust in bad places if you change them so much… but one photo op needs this lens and another needs the other. It always happens in awkward places so I have this good juggling act going on that I need to stop otherwise I’ll find myself slipping and dropping $1000 or more onto the ground. I’m at a loss as what to do. Maybe if I receive donations…. 
On Friday night I left the house at 7:15pm, realising too late that I hadn’t left much time at all to get to West point Grey by 8pm using public transport. I felt like I had to cajole each leg to move each step as I rushed to King Edward Station, then from City Hall to the bus stop then from Sasamat Street to Tolmie and 8th where the Uniting Church was. I actually ran from the bus to the church, arriving at 7:56pm to pick up my reserved ticket from the testy lady in the foyer and having the double wooden doors close right behind me as I walked into the main church. I had to have been the youngest person there to listen to the piano quartet. It was a beautiful concert with a very close-knit feeling amongst the attendees. They handed out toffees during intermission and I had a warm glow in my chest chatting to the retirees.
The pianist is apparently a quite well-known musician in Canada, and the violinist, violist and cellist are also well-known within the classical world but don’t have albums to show for it. I kept my eyes closed for most of the movements, just letting my mind go where it wanted to go with the emotions in music. I could hear the stories when I really concentrated.
Having been a ‘warm’ day, I figured I could get away with just wearing a trench coat that evening. Alas, no. I sat freezing at the bus stop on 10th for 20 minutes while full buses drove past. I had a little entertainment from a group of drunken young men who thought it was hilarious to stand in the middle of a road and jump out of the way of a car at the last moment. They were at least a form of distraction from the cold. The old lady on the bench beside me asked me a new question about every thirty seconds, to which I politely replied, soon realising that something wasn’t quite together upstairs. She was harmless yet annoying with her random questions, from the Olympics to the state of the asphalt on the street.
Saturday, figuring that the house cleaners were coming at 2pm as I had been advised, I took Riley out for a long walk as she tends to get upset with the vacuum cleaners and such. We basically explored all of Shaughnessy (aka one of the poshest and oldest suburbs in Vancouver and only 2 blocks West from home). Although Riley had me at a brisk pace, I was still able to appreciate the old houses and their awesome gardens. At times I felt like I was in England with the sounds of the birds and the quiet sounds of gardening. I’ve never been to England, but I think I have a good enough idea. Maybe it was the old houses or something. Once again, I had the punching feeling in my stomach, wanting to own a house in the area and hold a lavish tea party on the front lawn.
Really, it’s ridiculous. Since when did it become normal to see a Lamborghini, Ferrari and Aston Martin all within the same day consistently? Every couple of days I have sightings of all three. I think I’m seeing the same red Ferrari around, and the same black Lambo. I’ve also noticed a certain Aston Martin DB9 convertible around a fair bit. Granville Street seems to be the road to watch, it being the main drag between Shaughnessy. Riley and I were on Fir Street passing Granville Bowling Club and I saw the DB9 sitting there in all its glory on the side of the street. Being a fairly quiet street I was able to stop for five minutes and take it all in. The bum is great, but I spent most of the time around the front end. The nose has something menacing about it. I’m not sure whether menacing is the right word, but from whatever angle at the front it has a presence I don’t know how to describe. The angles of the bonnet are strong and so aesthetically pleasing. I’m going to stop now, because I don’t even know what I’m talking about, I just know how I feel. I kept glancing back at the car until we turned the corner. I’m sure it was smiling at me, appreciating my appreciation.
It turned out that the cleaners didn’t end up coming, so Riley and I had been out for an hour and a half for no reason. We were exhausted but I was satisfied. Riley was just very thirsty.
It’s curious. Vancouver will be in heavy cloud all day with drizzling rain, but come the last fifteen minutes of sunset, the building downtown that I can see from my bedroom shine golden as the low sun finds a gap in the clouds right at the horizon and the light shoots through across Vancouver. It’s really quite something. I can see it happening now, and the whole side of a glass apartment building appears to be on fire, the colour is so intense.
Apologies. Very disjointed post, I know.
Heading to Victoria on Vancouver Island this weekend. Bring on the sunshine. The forecast for Vancouver this week is dismal.
I had a day today. It was beautiful. The sun is changing. The angle is changing. It was out all day, smiling down at me, so I smiled back up at it, thanking it for being out and making me smile. I had a banana for breakfast with a handful of frozen blueberries that turned my knuckles blue from reaching into the bag. I read of triumphant Paralympic moments in the paper while Riley sniffed under my feet for fallen crumbs, but alas, there were none.
I took off in the sun, dodging shadows to keep in the warmth. Shaughnessy was particularly beautiful this morning. A woodpecker, a squirrel and a sparrow-type-of-bird; all peering at me from their perches on high. The old trees were covered in green moss at their bases. It’s a curious sight, coming from such a dry country as Australia, to see moss covering the ground and often branches too. I lifted my head and saw the buds emerging like a baby’s bottom. They were so new, so exquisite. I was able to pull one down to my nose and I took a whiff.
Granville Street met me at the edge of serene Shaughnessy with a rush of cars and a fleeting glance of an Aston Martin DB9 convertible. I left the high hedges and met the bustle of boutiques. I stepped into an antiques store and spent half an hour tiptoeing back and forth amongst the furniture, quietly decorating my house and spending a lot of money. I had my front hall completely finished by the time I let the heavy doors close behind me, and my living room and kitchen were a working progress. I bought a $5000 antique table that is going to sit on the neutral flagstones in the kitchen. It’s perfect.
Next stop was a kitchen store smelling of vanilla cake, which I got to eat a piece of. I chose most of my kitchenware and began preparing a dinner party. Wait for the invitation. Katie, I wish I could’ve bought the cookbook that you would’ve adored, but I bought the shapely tumblers instead. I circled the store, mesmerised by the sharp knives, colourful pots and bowls, brass cookware, funky mixers, sleek coffee machines, inventive tools, and textured dish towels.
At the chocolate store I gaped at the $450 chocolate rabbit until I bought a single caramel, almond and dark chocolate piece. I ate it discreetly as I met West Broadway and walked East towards Cambie. Cambie met me with a red Ferrari and a black Lamorghini, all within the same set of lights. Don’t tell me it’s my problem that my boots found glue and glued themselves to the pavement as the two cars dragged when the lights turned green. I don’t think I shall ever see a spectacle like that again.
Eating a bowl of melon, raspberries and blueberries, I hiked up the hill on Heather then ambled on the flat, slowly picking away at the blueberries and watching the bicyclists whiz past me. I did a quick segment for Top Gear when I happened across a BMW I had never set my eyes on before. Curious car, indeed. I believe I even voiced my opinion aloud at one point and jumped when a woman shuffled past me. She had to have heard me. I myself shuffled on as my cheeks burnt with embarrassment.
There was a stiff breeze in the air most of this afternoon. The blossoms come alive in the gentle wind, and each time I passed under the branches there was a delicate shower of petals. I always lifted my head up to watch as they fell and were taken away on the breeze. Those memory-planting moments again. You can’t beat them.
Riley whined at me for a good hour while I read in bed. I knew my duties and put her lead on and she half dragged me down the steep front steps that I have a hard time getting down, even without a rampant dog dragging me. We had a fast pace going across the field. Kids were beginning a game of baseball in the retiring sunlight. I can’t wait to look out my bedroom window come April and watch a proper game on a Saturday morning. Riley pulled and pulled until I tied her up outside Black Dog Video on Cambie. I was hoping someone would get a smile out of there being a black lab outside of a Black Dog Video store. I certainly did. We bought a baguette also and returned home at the same fast past to eat my baguette with butter and honey and a glass of red wine.
Sun is forecast for Friday. I wonder what I’ll get up to tomorrow. Looks like I’ll be going to get my own paper in the morning.
Today, I felt like a local in South Cambie. I have a loyalty card at Beans, a cosy and definitely friendly coffee place on Cambie and 18th. I filled out my details on the card and tucked it under ‘P’ for Pogson in a large box of similar cards so that I can pick it out when I return and mark off another coffee. When I reach ten drinks, I receive one free. The loyalty program certainly works for me. Makes me feel loved. It also helps that the coffee is amazing and the owners are lovely. Starbucks, I’ve moved on and am not fascinated with your appearance on every corner anymore.
I walked down to Beans this afternoon. It was sleeting rain but I kept my umbrella under wraps because I was enjoying being perverse. I have my favourite route to Cambie St now. Down Heather for three blocks then turning right at 19th until I hit Cambie, where the shops start. West 19th Avenue certainly has its perks. First of all there’s the arches of blossomed branches over the pavement, attractive houses, a picturesque tyre swing on the corner of Ash, and last but not least, there’s always a high chance that the silver Porsche 911 Turbo will be home, or at least the Porsche Cayenne. The 911 kicks me in the gut every time I pass, and I walk backwards to stare at the double exhaust. I haven’t decided yet whether this is completely beneficial for my overall state of mind.
Yesterday afternoon I was walking to the drug store for those evil Cadbury Easter chocolates before catching Alice in Wonderland in 3D at the quaint Cambie Street Theatre, and I heard a deep rumble over Damien Rice. Turning, my eyes fell upon a black Lamborghini Murcielago. I immediately ripped out my headphones and stopped to stare. Sadly nothing amazing happened. What was I expecting? It just rumbled on down Cambie. I hoped for a red light so I could run closer and wait for the green and the consequential roar, but nope.
Sitting at the window in Beans, I dug my fork into a huge chunk of chocolate cake and eyed the huge mug of caramel macchiato, hoping I could finish it all. I sat there for about an hour, watching people out the window, inadvertently listening to coffee shop conversations and reading the paper. I found an interesting page in the paper with listings of upcoming concerts and events. I had to grab a business card and borrow a pen to write down all the concerts and recitals I’m planning to attend. Most of them are classical and held in churches, so I thought I’d have a long weekend of concerts next weekend. I’m meant to be in three parts of the city at 8pm on March 19th. I don’t know how to choose. The piano quartet is sounding so good right now.
I have this silly thing I do to break the ice with any cashier or barista. When I hand them the cash, I ask them whether it’s the right amount or not (with a hesitant tone), and smile, telling them that I still haven’t figured out their coin values and find it confusing. This always produces a smile and words of reassurance. I feel idiotic doing it now, especially as I’m quite familiar with the coinage, but it doesn’t hurt, I find.
It snowed over night. I awoke to a stillness and lay there with a feeling of familiarity. I knew it had snowed even before I separated the blinds with my fingers and gazed out into a bland scenery. This certain Vancouver snow was not attractive. There was no fluffiness like in Denver, only the sound of overflowing drainpipes and a car sloshing by down below. There were clumps of ice on the fingers of the fir tree beside my window. The ice was disappearing before my eyes. By the time I had dressed and stepped out into the frigid air, the car was thawing and rivulets of water were running down the steps. I felt cheated. If it was going to snow, let it snow, and have it stay there for at least a day or two.
As mentioned, I watched Alice in Wonderland 3D down at the Cambie Theatre. The theatre only has one screen, so it can only show one movie at a time and I presume Alice in Wonderland will be there for more than a few weeks. The seats were old uncomfortable but the theatre had a small town feel about it that I liked. The movie was… wonderful, excuse the pun. I stayed after everyone else had left the theatre. The credits were still running with some beautiful classical piece behind, and the lights were dim, casting a strange glow across the backs of the chairs in front of me. I had one of my memory-planting moments where I take in every detail on the situation and implant it in my memory for later.
Truthfully, I just didn’t want to go back out into the real world.
I am frankly amazed at the Vancouveran’s indefatigability (look it up; new favourite word) throughout this rain. Here I am, lazing around on this very wet Sunday, with my hoodie, track pants and socks… reading ‘The New Joy of Photography’ and glancing up every now again at the raindrops collecting on the branch outside my window. I’ve been observing how often the collection of droplets fall to the ground below. I call it the Mel Theory, although it’s not really a theory. I can’t think of anything with more relevance to the observation. I count how long it takes for a droplet to fully form and then leave the branch. I figure it will tell me how hard the rain actually is. The faster collection rate obviously means there is more precipitation.
Oh, I do enjoy how my brain works. It never seemed to help me in my Math exams.
Back to the observation of endurance. I’m sitting here, taking this day as a good chance to catch up on sleep and reading, while, outside I can see a consistent number of people jogging/walking along the running track. Now, this is not a form of movement to escape the cold rain, it’s actually exercise… for the purpose of exercise.
They put on their red and yellow rain jackets and walk around the park, either alone, with a friend, with a pram, with their dog. At first I thought it was a way of getting from one point to another, but nope, I spied two women walking past my window, and then a few minutes later I see them across the other side of the park walking in the direction they had been coming from. Unbelievable.
Moving on, a child was sick last night. I stripped the bed and put them in the shower. All I remember is staring down at the grippy bath mat, trying not to be sick myself and wondering how to get things clean. I noticed that the mat was comprised of shapes in the form of halved avocados. I’m not quite sure whether it was intended by the manufacturers or whether my mind was on a completely other level… but it seemed as though all of the grips on the bottom of the mat lay under the large part of the avocado. I stared at it for a good half minute. It just looked like someone had taken the seed out and there was a dark shadow in its place. Fascinating.
Yesterday, my legs were incredibly sore from a whole Friday of walking along Point Grey Road and back along 10th, so, what did I do? I walked down Cambie Street, then east about five blocks to Main Street, down Main for a few blocks then walked back to Cambie Street because I was tired and couldn’t deal with streets and shopfronts and the weight of my camera. I ended up catching a bus along Broadway to Granville Street where I walked down to Granville Island.
Granville Island is a pretty funky piece of land right across the creek from the city. Granville Island is not an island at all. It’s just a piece of earth that sticks out from the mainland and has some awesome galleries, cafes and a large fresh food market place. I was pretty hungry by this point and sat down for fries and a smoothie and read the paper.
I wandered in and out of art galleries for a couple of hours, and drooled over all the amazing food in the marketplace. After a while, I went out onto the large wooden pier where the cars can park and people sit eating there lunch, and I found a seat right in the amazing sun. I sat there pondering my love for winter sun, until I noticed a man setting up a microphone and tuning his guitar right on the edge of the pier.
When he began to sing, something amazing happened. I felt l like I was in a movie and he was playing ‘La Mer’ by Charles Trenet, just for me. I had found ‘La Mer’ in a random piece of a movie I had seen and spent ages tracking the name down, and was finally able to buy the song recently.
I couldn’t get rid of my enormous grin throughout the whole song. It made me incessantly happy. I can’t begin to describe it, so I shall leave it to your own childish imagination.
So, I sat in the sun more another hour, listening to the music and people watching. There was a young guy next to me with a cool bowler hat on. He was scrawling in his notebook and I couldn’t help wondering what he was writing. I should’ve zoomed up with my camera and taken a look. Not stalkerish-like, at all.
I left Granville Island around 4pm and caught a free tram straight back to Cambie Street. There’s a food store just off Cambie. It’s intense. It’s a supermarket with all natural foods, basically. It’s like nothing I’ve seen before. Everything looks so beautiful. You want to buy everything because it looks like it would make you healthy. There tubs of flour you can scoop your own flour out of into a bag, sections of nuts and dried berries, a massive cheese deli that overflows with chunks of cheese and then chocolate sections, meat delis… just imagine the perfect supermarket. That would be it. I had every single free sample there was in the shop. A fake cocktail, pizza, espresso, thai green rice, bread… yum.
I walked home up Heather Street with arches of blossoms covering the cars and pavements. I tried to take some photos of a black Porsche 911 Turbo underneath the blossoms on 19th, but it didn’t do the scene justice… and there were ugly cars in the way.
I think I’m in love. Officially. With Vancouver. Or British Columbia. I think I’m going to like Spring here. Although it’s only the fourth day of Spring, most of the blossoms are out and as we walk home from school twice a day, there’s a definite Spring smell to the air. I heard my first woodpecker this morning as we walked down Heather St to the Chemist for cough drops. I only realised it when I returned home, that when the sun is out, I’m almost always happy. It’s odd and annoying, because at the moment, sunshine is rare. I wake up to look at the window to the city shrouded in cloud. The mountains can’t be seen.
At night time it’s as though clusters of stars are hovering over the city. It’s the ski fields all lit up at night. We had a beautiful afternoon yesterday, when cloud was overhead but the sun slipped through at the horizon, hitting the city turning it golden, while clouds hung through the mountains and a bright rainbow lay to the left. I ran out onto the balcony with my camera and tripod.
Last Thursday morning I walked for an hour up to VanDusen Botanical Gardens on 37th W Avenue. I was the first into the Gardens for the day. It felt unreal being the only person in there, and I didn’t realise how large it actually was. Once again, I was kicking myself for not taking my Nikon with me. I tried not to think about it, just using my Lumix. It simply wasn’t the same.
I felt like I was in England, then Japan, then Canada.. and then England again. Squirrels popped their heads up as I passed, then scurried up the trees. I’ll have to go back there when Spring has fully bloomed.
Last Friday I had the whole day off, and caught the Canada Line to Aberdeen where I walked a kilometre or so to the Richmond Olympic Oval. I’m so glad I decided not to sell my ticket, because it was just fantastic. I’d arrived an hour or so early, so I sat watching the teams practicing in the practice lane and chatted to the Canadians beside me. The energy was so great, and the crowd was a sea of red and white for Canada. During the qualifications, whenever the Canadian team passed, my ears would ring with the cheering and the bells being shaken. You think it’s loud on TV, but when you’re actually in the stadium it’s deafening. I cheered for the Canadians, seeing the Australians aren’t the best at winter sports and no one was in the competition.
Saturday I woke early and went for a huge walk along the Seawall to the edge of Stanley Park. It was quite cold, so I rugged up and took lots of photos. I’ll spend a proper sunny day in the park once it warms up and will probably take a bike. This time I just walked by the lagoon with the sky a dark, lazy and uninspiring grey. I decided to head in doors and go to the Vancouver Aquarium by myself. First, I was accosted by a little black squirrel who wanted my potato chips, I presume. He came a little uncomfortably close. So much for wanting one to jump into my arms and ask to be my friend. I’ve thought twice about that and have realised that our relationship would not work.
The Aquarium was better than I expected. I thought it might be boring there by myself, but the animals were amazing. There were huge tanks of jelly fish and the lighting from the sides made the jelly fish glow with amazing luminescence. I watched the short dolphin show at 1pm, with my umbrella uncomfortably hooked over my shoulder to keep the rain off of my camera. It was terribly frustrating, I can’t begin to describe it.
After the Aquarium I head back into town on a bus and went to the Pacific Centre and sat on the lounges to watch the Men’s Curling Gold Medal Final with around fifty other people. Canada won. It was so great. Now that the Olympics are over, I’ll really miss watching the events with random people on the lounges. There’s this great comradeship and you find yourself talking to perfect strangers and asking how the games work, and who is who. Everyone seems to be fairly happy until a little old lady sits right behind you and commentates more than the guy on TV. Who thought a 70 year old would know that much about Ice Hockey?
Sunday I caught the SkyTrain out to New Westminster to go to the meeting there. I underestimated the walk to the address, and was quite hot when I arrived. It was a really lovely group and it was so great to meet people. I went to lunch at the Old Spaghetti Place with the Prasad family to watch the Men’s Gold Medal Ice Hockey game against the USA. It was incredibly tense. It went into overtime at 2 all and the boys could barely watch they were so nervous. It was quite hilarious. Canada won though, and they ran out onto the street where cars were honking their horns.
I headed back into town after lunch, and instead of just catching the train home, I walked out into the streets to check out the atmosphere out of pure curiosity. Boy, oh, boy! Downtown Vancouver was on a high! Everyone was singing and yelling. The air smelt like alcohol. People were climbing on top of bus shelters, or any high area they could get to and pumping up the crowd. Everyone wanted a high five from strangers, and I made the mistake of following the crowd to Robson Square where I was seriously squished in the crowd and had to poke my head up to get some ‘clean’ air to breath. I spotted a largish guy who was heading in the direction I wanted to get to and stuck behind him while he blazed the trail for me. I was rather pleased with myself with this idea.
I watched the Closing Ceremony that night with Nanny, Owen and Aida. Michael Buble hopped onto the stage and I looked just out the window down to BC Place and was ridiculously excited that he was just down there out my window. Silly, I know.
I went for Crepes on Monday night. I mixed a ham, tomato, mushroom and Swiss cheese crepe with a massive strawberry thickshake. Not sure that my stomach agreed, but I felt like a child. I stood on the corner of Cambie Street afterwards, waiting to cross the road afterwards and took a whiff of the air. I smelt toffee apples. How strange. It took me back on a lightning quick memory trip into my childhood of making toffee apples. I was amazed at how intricate the mind is.
Today, Friday, I was out of bed and dressed before 8am…for the first time in almost 2 weeks. What a sloth. Out the door by 9am, I struck out to Kind Edward to the Canada Line where I disembarked at City Hall and waited for the bus along Broadway. For the buses they expect you to have the correct change to pop into the ticket producer thingy, and it really quite makes me nervous… even though I’ve always had the correct change. As I step on the bus, I count my money again for the fifth time, just to make sure it’s right. What happens? Do they not give you change at ALL? What’s with that? I’m nervous just thinking about it.
I stood waiting for the bus, watching all the ants going off to work for the day. I don’t miss it yet. I enjoyed just standing in the sun and knowing I had the whole day to me.
The bus was packed, so I squished between a gum-chewing University student and a middle-aged woman wearing a black leather jacket, heavy eye-liner and short spiky hair. I had a momentary feeling of complete innocence. She made me feel like I was wearing a pink cardigan and pig-tails, but she was fascinating.
I hopped off at Arbutus Street and walked North towards Kitsalano Beach Park. There was a ‘mandatory’ stop for a coffee and bagel with cream cheese (yum) and I was on my way again. It was so quiet. I felt I could have this routine every single morning. Sitting on a wooden bench, soaking up the sun, fending off crows (?) and pigeons after my bagel, and looking at the great blue framed by the craggy mountains atop with weepy snow.
I walked through Vanier Park and spent $11 on a 20 minute walk through the Vancouver Museum. I was more than a little disappointed. I expected more fascinating Native American exhibits, but instead I found creepy tunnel type of rooms devoid of human beings. What really creeped me out was when every TV/noise/light turned itself on when I entered each section. There was lots of voices, dummies staring at me with strange clothing on, a large empty car, a kitchen sink, fake bank tellers and lots of twists and turns with overwhelming amounts of information on the 1960s.
When I returned to 2010, I told my feet to walk West, and they walked West. All the way to Point Grey. My legs are paying me back tonight. They ache. Walking along Point Grey Road, I passed all the houses with amazing views over English Bay to Stanley Park, downtown Vancouver and across to the mountains. My heart burnt with longing as I snuck many a glance through large windows, through the house, and through the windows on the other side where I could see mountains and water. All the houses were different and beautiful in their own right. The cars weren’t so bad themselves. I found myself trudging along with daydreams that could’ve gone on all day.
I finally reached Jericho Beach Park and stopped for a good while hanging with ducks and sitting on a bridge talking to an old man with an even older dog. I’d never seen such a beautiful park. There was normal grass of course, but the rises of green had white daisies scattered like a child had thrown them without thought. Paths had white gravel that sounded amazing when a biker pedalled past. I found my ultimate bridge across a duck pond and documented it all. Because… someday I’m building a bridge. In my Palace grounds. Pfft.
I think I even reached Spanish Banks, and was so exhausted by then, but had to climb a road with quite the incline. Perfect. When I reached 10th Avenue, I stumbled into an Italian Restaurant and had a salad and a beer. Recharging my batteries, like. Mind you, I had to sit through two desperate housewives over the other side of the room whinging about their ex-husbands and teenage children and interfering Grandparents. I couldn’t help but overhear. The waiter was so friendly, and he told me all the good places to see in Vancouver. He was surprised that I’d seen so much in a week and a half.
I think I must’ve basically walked halfway home before I was finally able to jump on the bus heading back to Cambie Street. It felt like it, anyway. I confused my Avenues. I bought a chocolate croissant to console myself. The croissant was quickly forgotten when I was hurrying towards the bus stop, past a gas station.
I don’t know if this is normal or not, but my stomach did a tremendous flip-flop, and my chest began to feel quite tight as I gazed across at the black Porsche 911 Turbo in all its glory. I held my breath as it’s driver climbed into it’s dark red interior and turned the key, provoking an unrestrained growl. I hurried around the corner to stand behind as it moved to turn into the traffic. At the last moment I caught the driver’s eye, and when he pulled out, my insides seemed to clench and feel the full force of that amazing sound as he accelerated and the turbo kicked in. It shot down Broadway and disappear from my sight. I have a feeling that the driver saw my crazed eyes and used his whip on the Porsche for my benefit… or else, he does that everyday anyway, just because he can.
Just because he can.
The bus was careering along Broadway when I made a very expensive and very impromptu stop at a camera shop. So, now I have Wal. Sickening, isn’t it? That I’ve named my wide angle lens by its acronyms? Wide angle lens is a mouthful.
Today was a productive day. Tomorrow might not be, seeing as I’m forcing my eyes open to finish this and sort through my photos. The forecast is for sun the rest of the weekend. Oh, joy! Happy Mel all around!
Wednesday. Attempted an early start. Failed. I snoozed and dreamt of driving a sporty silver Audi. I had fun, and woke with a start at a red light, darn it all. Oh, how ironic. I woke with a start at a red light. Gee, I can be funny.
Moving on, I had cereal for breakfast again (I’m going seriously going to have to force myself to be a little more adventurous in that department), and read the paper with Riley sniffing my socks and licking my ankles. Just in case you’ve forgotten, Riley is the dog, not one of the children. Weird, that would be.
I can see I’m going to become one of those strange, intense people who don’t feel right unless they’ve read the morning’s paper over their breakfast. But seriously folks, what is Vancouver going to write about once the Winter Olympics is over? It saturates the pages. I’m not denying that it’s interesting, but I’m curious to see what kind of articles are written once the fever dies down. At the moment there’s some intriguing columns on how Russia thinks the Canadians are judging unfairly in Ice Skating, and putting together a particularly ‘megaflop’ of an Olympics. Evgeni Plushenko has his nose out of joint (and oh my, what a large nose it is) because he earned (earned being the operative word) silver instead of gold in the Men’s Figure Skating. Oh boo hoo.
I nearly broke my back dragging children’s dirty clothes downstairs, and I even managed to fill two loads of the capacious washing machine. The whole process took an hour or two to get every washed and then put in the equally massive dryer, and then folded and put away. Kids seem to go through an amazing amount of socks in one week. I have a sneaking suspicion that they’re just thrown in the dirty clothesbasket for the hell of it. Possibly clean socks enjoy mingling with the dirty ones. Talk about mixed company.
I rugged up in many layers to pick one of the kids up at 12 noon and took Riley with me. The past two days I’ve forgotten to take the doggy-doo bags with me and have ran off with a rather guilty expression on my face. I’ll never cotton on to the idea, having grown up in the country where’s the cattle/rabbits don’t particularly mind a deposit by the wayside. But here, it’s a $2000 fine if caught, so maybe I’ll lower myself as it seems like I may not even be able to abuse my innocent Australian accent.
3pm we picked the other child up from school and walked ever so slowly back home. Kids don’t seem to feel the cold. I was doing jumping jacks on every street corner as I waited for them to catch up to me. I was so cold. We settled down to watch the Canada vs Russia in Ice Hockey. We won!! Yes, we being Canada.
I walked West on 22nd West Avenue to the closest Starbucks two blocks away at 8pm. I had five layers on my upper body and looked like a cute little marshmallow or something similar. I boast fake patriotism with my bright red Canadian Olympic mittens. They keep me warm.
For a change, Starbucks was basically empty so I grabbed the lounge in the corner and read another paper along with my latte and some awesome chocolate caramel covered pretzel. Yes, have no fear, I am walking a lot so far and mean to keep walking so I can enjoy these luxuries. Let’s see how it goes.
I joked with the coffee barrister over their pronunciation of the name of their medium sized coffee: Grande. Well, I called it a joking around, but I don’t think he really got the gist of it all. Maybe he was laughing politely. I think I might be putting a bad name out for us Aussies. Apologies, I shall try and keep my mouth shut… even though it is such fun.
I walked south down to King Edward Drive then along the Drive for a fair few streets until Cambie Street where the Canadian fans emerged from the King Edward Station cheering like crazy because we’d won the Hockey game. *Taps skull with index finger* “These Canadians are Crazy”!
There were so many people up and about that I felt quite safe, and I wandered into an organic supermarket (they’re scattered around these suburbs) and paced the aisles wondering whether people actually buy all the stuff. I stared at the array of natural yoghurts for a good five minutes before just going for the cheapest kind to eat on my walk home. See, food with exercise! What, am I kidding myself?! I buttered up the meat deli guy and asked for a “random plastic spoon”, and he produced a perfect yoghurt-eating spoon especially for moi. I’m keeping the spoon in my bag for future situations that may arise such as this.
I try to joke with the cashiers… but they have this fake smile on their face and I end up telling them not to worry. Sigh. Blank expression in the eyes is a dead giveaway.
I spotted my first black squirrel this afternoon on a rooftop. They’re quite small… and cute, but not as cuddly as I figured they might have been. I shall admit that I am a little more disappointed. I expected one to dive into my arms and look up into my eyes, pleading with me to be its friend for the next few months. Alas, I only received a furtive glance and a twitch of the tail for it scampered over the rooftop.
