Yes, I promise- The Final Chapter

 

My last full day in British Colombia was simply delightful. After a leisurely breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, toast with jam, grilled mushrooms, a pot of green tea, I was ready to devote my day to the outdoors.

One of the things that I embraced on this solitary adventure was dressing for my own comfort & not for “style”. My costume most days was crop pants or comfortably baggy jeans, polo shirt, sport socks & my walking shoes (what a great investment!), a hat or visor, & my sling backpack with knitting, camera, notebook, tissues, sun block, & the ubiquitous lip balm inside.

My first stop was Beacon Hill Park, right off downtown Victoria; it is a pleasant urban oasis, with paths, gardens, ponds, playgrounds, a small children’s farm, & sports fields. I spent about an hour strolling around, enjoying the cool quiet & watching the mother ducks with their chicks. This group was having great fun playing hide-and-seek among the lily pads,

 

carefully supervised by Mama, who kept one eye on the little ones,

 

and the other on me. I also enjoyed watching these two friends, sharing some conversation & a few peanuts.

 

The rest of the day was spend at the world famous Butchart Gardens; I was surprised how many people filled the park- the crowds would rival most amusement parks in the US- but, with the exception of some poorly supervised children, everyone was quietly soaking in the beauty. I won’t give you a blow-by-blow account of the 11 hours I spent here (yes, you read that correctly), just a few highlights & impressions. First of all was the smell; everywhere you went, there a sweet, green flavor to the air. Second was the sheer amount of color that jumps out at you- it just can’t be experienced through photographs. Lastly was the vast variety, of plants, of terrain, of artistic vision- no area was anything like the previous or the next.

I explored for about four hours before having afternoon tea at the Dining Room Restaurant, the family’s former residence. I was served a lovely meal on the veranda, overlooking the Italian Garden;

 

my server was graciously kind not to remark on my taking pictures of everything- the place setting, the menu, the food, as well as the view.

 

 

Afterward, I explored the rest of the gardens, stopping to watch a group performing “The Wizard of Oz” in Waterwheel Square & picking up some gifts in the store, before going out to the car for a little rest. Around 7:00, I went back in to take some photo of areas that had been jammed packed with people all day, & then went over to the Concert Lawn to see a performance of the Marc Atkinson Trio. Later, I went back over to watch Ross Fountain dancing in the lights & enjoyed a cup of hot chocolate before heading back to my lodgings.

I packed & took all my belongings out to the car that night, leaving only my clothes & toiletries to use in the morning, since I had reservations on the 10:00 ferry the next morning & didn’t want a repeat of the earlier trip. In the morning, I was up & ready early, so I had time to chat with a woman from Australia who was also traveling alone (for 12 weeks, lucky thing) & we shared breakfast, stories, & photographs. I left by 8:30 & made such good time on the road that I was able to board the 9:00 ferry! I spend the entire time on deck, as it was another gorgeous day, & took some great photos along the way.

Sorry to disappoint Jane, but the return to the airport was spectacularly uneventful; I arrived way early, returned my car, checked in & went through customs (a loooong wait), then had 3 ½ hours to read, knit, & wander around. The only noteworthy event of the trip home was flying past Mount St Helens- even from 20,000 feet, the destruction was wide-spread & obvious, even after more than 20 years.

 

 

Arriving back in San Francisco, I had another 1 ½ hour wait for Chris, who was stuck in some nasty traffic on the San Mateo Bridge. We were home by 8:30 pm & were smothered in feline affection, as well as demands for food, water, & an explanation as to my whereabouts for the past week. Some things never change!

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Forgive me for the length of these last few posts; I really did not intend to take up two weeks with this tale. There were just so many impressions, so many stories that I had to share, & I’m afraid my guys weren’t particularly interested in hearing them, since I ran off alone J.

The past couple of weeks have been very full, & I will get around to sharing the highlights, but I’ll leave you with this:

 

 

This is the “End of Summer” swap package I received from my friend Mitchowl ; this was sponsored by the Great Pretender & it was great fun! Mitchowl nailed my habits- uh, I mean hobbies- & supplied some great goodies for me to indulge with- Thank You!

Houses, Gardens, and, OH, my aching feet!

The last leg of my journey was the portion that I most anticipated; in addition to exploring a lovely city that I have been hearing wonderful things about from friends & family for 2 decades, I was going to be able to spend 2 ½ days fulfilling only my own needs, preferences, & interests. Any parent, particularly any mother, knows what a luxury this is; the nature of the job is to find balance & compromise between the various personalities that make up our families, & more often than not, a woman will subjugate her own wishes in the pursuit of peace & harmony.

The 1-½ hour ferry ride from Vancouver to Victoria was actually quite nice once the rain stopped. I divided my time between the top deck taking pictures (we had been told on departure that Orcas had been spotted that day in the strait, but I had no luck) & sitting inside with my knitting, being careful to avoid the multitudes of people reading the new Harry Potter book. I had been briefly tempted to buy it, but was put off by the $45.00 price tag; so I kept myself to myself, as to not let envy to color my mood.

Once hitting solid ground again, I headed straight for North Victoria to Hatley Castle on the grounds of Royal Rows University. Well, maybe not straight; this is where I took my second wrong turn of the trip, zigging when I should have zagged & ending up taking a tour of a couple charming little towns five miles away from my goal (I think my night at the BC version of the Psycho Motel took a bit of a toll my normally impeccable sense of direction.) My decision to visit here first was a delightful little piece of serendipity; I had been online just before I left home & chanced upon a site devoted to garden tours of Victoria. The gardens were featured & there was a brief mention about available tours of the Castle. Well, that’s all it took- what else does a house museum docent do on vacation but tours other houses?

I have to say up front, this was my favorite stop of my entire trip. Even under grey skies, magnificence of the manor & grounds took my breath away; photographs just don’t do it justice. I had just missed the current long tour & had to wait about an hour until the next short one, so I went downstairs to visit the museum (which was quite interesting) & gift shop, & then wandered out to the gardens. I am not exaggerating when I say that when I walked inside the gate, the beauty in front of me brought tears to my eyes. I stood there, awed by the magic & whispering to myself: “It’s like a daydream”; I have never been so affected by a place before. One of the gardeners, a man about my age, was working in a flowerbed near me, & he smiled as he watched my reaction; he told me that the favorite part of his job was seeing the wonder on the faces of visitors & I told him he was a blessed man to be able to spend his days in Eden. The next 45 minutes melted away as I explored the Italian garden next to Manor, taking photos of the flowers, statues, bumblebees & hummingbirds, & was startled back to reality when my cell phone alarm went off, reminding me of the tour I had paid to take. After being guided around the front of the Manor & instructed on the history of the property & the family, the group was taken through the rooms on the first floor; the second floor is in use by the administration of the University & the third floor is only seen on the long tour. It is a lovely facility, with beautiful woodwork & stained glass windows; evidently, a few of the rooms were used in the filming of the second X-Men movie (Sam recognized them, but I didn’t pay enough attention during the film) Afterwards, I went back outside to visit the Rose & Japanese gardens- lovely despite being partial stripped by the previous two weeks of rain- then wandered through the meandering paths back to the Italian Garden. I only dragged myself away because of the rude noises my stomach was making, but I’ve already promised myself to go back someday.

I drove into Victoria to find my lodgings for the next two nights. I was fortunate to have discovered Craigmyle Guest House, a very reasonably priced bed & breakfast inn located right next to Craigdarroch Castle (my #2 must see on this trip) The inn is comfortably shabby, in the fashion of an small English guest home, & while the owner is a rather…uh…crusty ex-pat from Liverpool, the man can do a mean fry-up breakfast! My room was small, which was fine with me, with an ensuite bathroom & comfy bed; the only drawback was it was on the third floor- & naturally there is no elevator. Hauling my large rolling suitcase, backpack, purse, knitting bag, & pillow (yes, I travel with my own pillow- no matter how hard the bed, I can be assured I won’t end up with a stiff neck!) up two flights of narrow stairs- with Mr. Personality encouraging, but not assisting me- was no mean feat; I found myself in need of a short nap.

After an hour’s rest, I followed the steps out of the back patio up to Craigdarroch Castle. This is by far the most glorious historic house I’ve ever been privileged to see; it is four stories of full Victorian splendor, with the family’s belongings nearly fully intact (very unusual in my limited experience) Again, photographs don’t do it justice; I was stopped cold by the “Oh My!” entrance & spent some time chatting with the gentleman docent stationed there. I already knew of the connection between Craigdarroch & Hatley Castles (father Robert & younger son, James) but I was surprised to learn that there was a connection to a grand house in my part of the world, Dunsmuir Mansion in Oakland; it was built by the nere-do-well older son, Alexander, for his then mistress, & hosts one of our favorite Highland Games, which we had attended just the week before. I spent an enjoyable couple of hours exploring the castle, positively drooling over the incredible stained glass panels in almost every room, & spending money in their nicely stocked gift shop.


That evening, I drove down to the Inner Harbor area for a little sightseeing; British Colombia in situated far enough north to remain light well past 9:00 pm. I was too late to go inside any of the buildings, such as the Empress Hotel, the Parliament Building, or the B.C. Museum, but took some nice photos & added them to my “Must See” list for next time. I poked around some of the shops, went to dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory, & I got a little giggle while I was waiting for my meal. Naturally, I was wiling away the time working on my shawl,

occasionally glancing around at my surroundings, when I noticed the print on the wall right next to my table:

How nice to have some silent knitting companionship.
I returned to my lodgings for the night, fixing myself a cuppa & settling into the lounge to do a little reading to the sounds of some classical music. An older German couple joined me for a while, sharing some of their wine & adventures of the day, before we all retired for the evening; with all the walking & wonder of the day, I slept soundly (the glass of wine & four ibuprofens helped a bit) & awake ready for the next adventure.

Final chapter: Butchart Gardens

All by myself

Still waiting to regain control of my time- really must speak to the Universe about scheduling three months worth of important events in a 10-day period- but I found a little space to continue the Canada Saga.

I have to say that in the 6 years or so that I’ve had regular internet access & began booking all travel arrangements online, I’ve been quite fortunate- you are essentially “buying a pig in a poke”, so you need to trust in the honesty & integrity of the vendors. I haven’t been bitten by the small print, been charged more than the quoted price, or ended up with questionable lodgings; that is until this trip.

After leaving the Chinese banquet & my family, I drove down to the motel I was staying at that night. A steady rain is falling; I’m driving along a dark, fairly deserted city street at 11:00 pm, looking for the address. At last, I see a neon sign, hanging crookedly on the post, three letters missing, & randomly blinking; I’m thinking “Please, Lord- not that one!”, but of course, that is my destination. I pull into the dimly lit parking lot, past rows of little cottages & a huddled group standing by one door passing a bottle around, & stop in front of the office. As I sit in my car, still dressed in my party finery & keeping my eye on the silent drinkers, a mist starts to rise from the ground; I begin having doubts about staying here. I stayed there for nearly 5 minutes, carrying on a spirited mental debate:

“This place is creepy”

“You read too many novels”

“No, it really is sinister”

“It’s just the rain & the mist- in daylight, I’m sure it’s perfectly respectable”

“Pfft! Look at the winos”

“Well, they are minding their own business”

“Yeah, until you get out of the car”

“This is silly- it’s 11:30 & I need some sleep”

“It’s the flipping ‘Bate’s Motel’ without the gothic mansion”

“I’ve already paid for it & I’m not looking for another place this time of night!”

“Who cares? I can sleep in the car”

At this point, I see the shadowed outline on a man, looking out the office window at my car; it is time to (pardon the expression) “piss or get off the pot”, so I screw up my courage & go inside. I have to admit I nearly bolted when a rather tall, thin, effeminate looking man, with a crew cut, came out of the back room, calling back across his shoulder “I’ll be right back, Mother- we have a customer”; but Scot’s stinginess won out over too many late-night “Creature Features” & I checked in. Norman- uh, I mean, Mason gave me a $10 discount because Expedia had booked me for a double instead of a single bed, & offered to carry my bags into my cottage since I was “all alone”- I politely declined & practically ran out of the office. I’m not proud of it, but once I got my stuff in the room, I triple locked the door, moved a table in front of it, propped a chair & my suitcase up against the closet, & slept with the light on.

I had to get up very early in the morning, as I needed to be at the ferry by 8:30 & I wasn’t certain what the traffic would be like driving through Vancouver. After taking the quickest shower of my life, with the shower curtain drawn all the way open, I threw my things back into the car & virtually peeled out of the parking after leaving the key in the drop box. It is a good thing I allowed an hour to travel 15 miles- the traffic wasn’t heavy on the surface streets, but the 3 bridges I had to cross were all one-lane in the direction I was headed & had horrible bottlenecks. I also took one of my rare wrong turns of the trip- I was headed the wrong direction on a road with no exits or turn arounds- I had to drive nearly 7 miles before I could get off the highway & backtrack, all the time hearing my internal clock ticking away the minutes. Oh, did I mention it was still raining buckets? I made it to the ferry landing right at 8:30 to claim my reserved spot & was the Very…Last… Car loaded, all the time needing to find a restroom in the worst way.

As soon as my car was secured, I scurried off to find relief, some breakfast, & a seat inside. The first two were easily remedied; the last was a no go, except one seat next a man smelling strongly of onions or another in front of a family with 4 small, screaming children. I decided to take my chances on deck & headed outside; I found a sheltered area on the sixth level, pulled up the hood of my raincoat & drank my tea. As soon as the boat started moving, the rain began to ease & sky became lighter; by the time we were three miles out, little patches of blue sky were peeking through & the rain had ceased. I stood alone at the aft railing & watched Vancouver disappear into the mist, then went inside to make myself comfortable before starting the next part of my adventure.

Next time: Houses, Gardens, and, Oh, my aching feet!

Vows, Gondolas, & Jellyfish

The wedding day dawned bright…& rainy. Again, not heavy, drenching downpours; merely intermittent light drizzles, with tantalizing tastes of blue skies & sun, just enough to raise hopes. I joined my aunt & uncle for breakfast at 8:00, along with a couple of other wedding guest, & we were treated to a lovely meal of fresh fruit, homemade bread, blueberry/banana pancakes, & wonderful chocolate filled croissants.

Since I didn’t need to be at Edgewater until 1:30 (a last minute rehearsal with brother B- who made just in time for dinner the night before) I enjoyed a leisurely morning reading & napping before getting dressed for the celebration. I showed up promptly & we quickly went through the set one last time before heading to the dining room. As I arrived, the decision was made to move the wedding inside, so there a flurry of activity going on; I wisely found an out-of-the-way seat inside the lodge. While others ranted, ran around, & generally freaked out, this is what I did:

Every so often, someone looking frantic would wander over, have a seat to catch their breath, & get caught up watching this lace shawl form itself on my needles; each person would eventually walk away calm & quiet- I like to think this was my contribution to the day (beside singing, of course.)

We sang our songs, some people actually listened, & then the ceremony started (on time, no less!). Once the bride walked past, I elbowed my way through the crowd of standing guests to take my seat with the family, so I was able to witness everything up close. I’ve put several shots in the photo album “Canada Trip” (at my MSN space- see above right), but I wanted to share my two favorites here.

This is “Reverend” Mike, my brother’s friend from college & the wedding’s the officiator; I think he is quite fetching with his bouquets. Actually, he is providing an important service; in Canada, a marriage commissioner must attend each wedding & “signing the documents” is a part of the ceremony; Rev. Mike is assisting the bride & her witness while they sign the certificate. This is my favorite photo of the day:

I love the huge smile on my brother’s face, while his serenely smiling bride looks on; it was a funny, touching day & well worth the hassles to get there.

The reception was wonderful, with great food (salmon or pesto-stuffed chicken), humorous toasts, shared memories, & lots of music & dancing. The weather even cooperated long enough for the pictures to be taken outside by the lake, while the guests snacked on hors d'oeuvres & searched for a peek of the glacier on the mountain. The festivities broke up around 11:00, with the “younger” crowd heading down to Whistler Village to party into the wee hours, while the wiser ones toddled off to sleep.

Sunday morning, after another delicious meal (Eggs Benedict & almond paste filled croissants) I checked out of Cedar Springs & drove over to collect my sister for the ride back to Vancouver. The lodge had been filled by the wedding party, so the dining room looked like a family breakfast (except for the assorted hang-over’s); while H packed up & I enjoyed another cup of tea, D told us that he had arranged for anyone who wanted a little adventure to take the Gondola ride up Whistler Mountain. H & I decided to take up the challenge & headed into the village; the was a huge mountain-biking event going on that weekend & there were hundreds of riders- from 8 to 80 years old- barreling down the mountain side, covered in mud.

It was a 20 minute trip up the mountain, traveling through the low-lying clouds & intermittent sprinkles; arriving at the top (but not the summit- that was closed due to weather concerns) we were greeted with some remaining snow & a pretty brisk, cold wind. We walked about a half mile up the trail, which was about all I could manage, given the altitude & my wonky knees/hip, & surveyed some of the interpretive displays & construction plans for Whistler, which will be hosting the 2010 Winter Olympics. On the way back down, we saw several wedding guests & family members heading up the mountain- turns out we were the first ones out the gate that day.

The drive only took an hour & a half this time, so H & I had some time to do a little exploring before we had to be at the wedding banquet being held by W’s extended family. We found Queen Elizabeth Park & spent a pleasant couple of hours wandering around the gardens & paths in the drizzle, even stopping to witness the tail-end of another wedding.

Then, it was off to the last official event of the weekend, the traditional Chinese banquet, hosted by the bride’s father. It was literally 12 courses, each table being served by a single waiter who dished out small portions to every person; there was soup, fruit, salad, crab claw puffs, noodles, rice, duck, pork, fish, even jellyfish with vegetables (I tried a little piece, which had the texture between a gummy worm & a pickle). The funny part is that every dish that was brought out, the waiter made a big ceremony of arranging it just so my step-dad could take a picture. I lost track of every dish, particularly when the toasts started- wine, brandy, & Grand Marnier flowed freely as the couple, the families, & the ancestors were all toasted… in Chinese. Yep, after “Hello, thank you for coming” the rest of the evening with conducted in Chinese- W’s father’s primary language- so W served as interpreter for the whole group. Mother gave her only speech the whole weekend, translated for the others by one of the younger boys, when she presented D & W with a little gift- a blue & brown baby outfit, which followed the wedding theme of “Mountains & Water”. No, they were not making any announcements, but speculation began before they even said “I do” as to how long before there is another family member, myself included.

Thus ended my time with my family- three days of parties & eating, with no arguments, hurt feelings, or disasters. Must be a record.

Next time: All by myself

Nothing like easing into a vacation

Sorry it has taken so long to get back to the story; I went back to work yesterday & to say that I’m buried in paperwork would be only a slight overstatement. In reality, it wasn’t as ghastly as I had originally feared; but then again, errors have a sneaky tendency to crop up at later, inconvenient dates.

Let me see; I left off at my barely legal entry into Canada on Thursday morning. I had planned on having the rest of the day to myself, exploring Vancouver, & made a start in Gastown; I strolled through some of the shops, saw the famous Steam Clock, & spent an hour in Dr. Sun Yat Sen Chinese Garden before being summoned to dinner by my Mother. She seemed to be concerned that I wouldn’t be able to find the house where my sister was staying all by myself the following morning, despite my assurances that I directions, so it was decided I would meet her & Michael, my step-dad, there before going to dinner (how this helped, I’m not exactly sure, but I’ve learned not to question too much.) The next four days consisted of a lot of family, food, & rain. It was a constant light rain, which raised the stress level of the bride & groom, since the ceremony was to be outside; fortunately, the temperature was pleasant & the rain made the air smell wonderful.

My sister & I left Vancouver by 8:30 Friday morning & had a pleasant drive, where she filled me in on the latest in her world. H  is a free spirit, who lives in Kauai, camping out for the past 10 years in Kalalau Valley & living off the land. She hikes out of the Valley periodically (8 hours each way) to buy or trade for goods, do a little work if she needs cash, & to contact the family, then comes Stateside every couple of years. Up until 4 weeks ago, she shared her life & camp with her “man” E, but received an unexpected blow when he took up with someone else on her last trek out to settle travel arrangements for the wedding. She was just coming out of the state of shock, so I was able to be a safe sounding board for her broken heart; Mother isn’t able to deal with emotional issues & simply stated that E had been “dismissed” from the family.

Anyway, we arrived at Edgewater Lodge before 11:00 & I had time to do some practicing with Mark, my aunt’s friend who plays the ukulele & harmonica (my youngest brother, B , who plays the guitar, didn’t make it in time) before the official rehearsal. We ended up selecting four songs to do before the ceremony-

The 59^th St Bridge Song (Feeling Groovy),

Dream (Everly Brothers),

In my Life (the Beatles),

& Sea of Love;

one vocal for the processional- Over the Rainbow- & then an instrumental version of Feeling Groovy as the bride walked down the aisle. If you are wondering what input the bride & groom had in this process- your guess is as good as mine; the only song I know for sure my brother chose was the Beatles’ song, because he gave me a CD with mixed songs (& I do mean mixed – from Johnny Cash to Bob Dylan to the Beach Boys) the week before. We are dealing with a couple of really laid back people, so I don’t think it mattered too much one way or another- they trusted the “experts” to make it sound good.

Afterwards, we all trekked down to locate the restaurant for the dinner being hosted that evening by our parents, then I peeled off to explore the Whistler Marketplace. It was like wandering through an Alpine village, with winding pedestrian-only lanes & Whistler Mountain as a backdrop; I got lost for about two hours before going over to Cedar Springs Lodge, the B & B where I was staying. I checked into my room just in time for tea (homemade banana nut bread) & then took a little nap before meeting everyone for dinner.

The dinner was awesome- a buffet with salad, fresh rolls, red potatoes, mixed vegetables, steak & salmon, & then cheesecake or chocolate mousse cake with fresh berries, plus an open bar & wine at every table. Mother had life-sized photo cutouts of D & W all over the room, plus pictures on the tables of each family over the years & those who were missing or gone; the popular activity (after sufficient alcohol was partaken) was having silly pictures taken with the cut outs. Michael, as both best man & father of the groom, gave a humorous speech (fortunately lacking in graphic medical humor- he is a urologist & surgeon, & likes to joke about his work) & Mother was particularly restrained, simply greeting everyone & thanking them for making the trip up to Canada for this event. I learn later that D’s only request of Mother for the weekend was that she was calm & didn’t give any speeches (you might remember that our Mother is a highly functional bi-polar, but does tend to get wound up over big events.) I think D & W were surprised at the number of people who came for the wedding- there were 25 members of the immediate families & around 50 or so friends of both of them, some coming from as far away as Hong Kong & Dubai.

I called it a night around 10:00, driving back to the B & B with my uncle Jim & his wife Elizabeth from New Mexico, who were staying at the same place; we had a brief nightcap (tea & decaf coffee) & quiet visit before going to bed, falling asleep to the sound of rain against the leaves.

 

Next time: Vows & Gondolas 

A rocky start

Okay, okay! I’ve had some rest & finished the book, so now I’m ready to be social again.
It was most definitely an eventful trip, full of sightseeing, encounters with relatives, & surprisingly little emotional upheaval despite a wedding, a break-up, mental illness, & the blend of two culturally diverse families.
But first- an anecdote, a cautionary tale of being too prepared: the night before I left, I was having trouble sleeping- kept going over things in my head- so I finally got up around 2:00, remembering that I hadn’t left an itinerary for the guys or a list of things the Sam needed to take care of while I was away (if it’s not in writing, he’ll forget). I went to the computer to type it up, needing to go on the internet to get some of the addresses & phone numbers; while I was there, I figured I’d best print up another copy of my passport application status page, in case the one I had got lost or damaged. That’s right- my passport didn’t arrive, although I submitted the application 14 weeks prior to my trip (& still isn’t here L)- so in order to get back in the country I needed my photo id & application status page. So, anyway, I’m on the State Dept website, double checking to see if I need anything else, where I’m directed to make sure I comply to the entry requirements of the country I’m entering. Big mistake. It’s 2:30 am & I’m leaving the country in 5 hours- but I look anyway & see in big, bold letters;
“Passport or gov’t issued id with certified copy of birth certificate”.
Which is in my safe deposit box.
At the bank.
Which opens at 9:00.
An hour after I take off.
There has to be a mistake; how could I have missed that? I call the airline carrier that I’ll be flying- she reads the same thing I did. I call the State Dept hotline- they are closed for another two hours. I call the airport customs dept- they tell me the US requirements, but can’t be certain of the Canadian regulations. I call the airline carrier that I booked with- she says there shouldn’t be any problem- just bring what I have & plead ignorance if they fuss on the other end. Great. A fifty-fifty chance of being deported on my first visit to Canada. This will be a favorite story in my family for years to come, especially as I’m acknowledged as the smart one.
I fill Chris in on the situation & formulate a plan as we drive to the airport; my youngest brother won’t be arriving in Vancouver until 5:00 that evening, so Chris will drive back home, get my birth certificate, & go into work. If I have a problem at customs in Canada, I’ll call him- he will meet my brother & give him my paperwork, which he’ll bring along to get me out of the Canadian version of the Pokey. It’s all good. Either that, or go home, get it myself & drive to Vancouver. Not my favorite idea, but I can’t miss my brother’s wedding- who knows when one of them will ever do something so conventional again!
So, I get to the airport, hike a quarter mile into the terminal through a maze of construction detours, & check in at the counter; my paper work is checked, stamped, & boarding pass issued. No questions, no problems; maybe this ignorance thing will work. I have to wait a couple of hours & manage to get a little sleep before boarding the flight; two hours later, I’m landing in Vancouver, & my stomach starts doing the merengue. While I weaving my way through the long queue at customs, I start getting the cold sweats- I’m certain that I looked terribly guilty & any minute, sirens & lights will go off & armed officials will be surrounding me. Finally, it is my turn; I hand the woman all my papers- she squints up at me, unsmiling, then asks me the purpose of my visit. I say I’m here for a wedding, then some sightseeing- I babble a bit about my first trip alone, my brother getting married for the first time at 39, that I’m originally from Texas- you know, stupid nervous rambling. Next thing I know, she’s handing me my papers & pointing to the left, saying “You go over there” & I’m done.
Wow- that was easy. I promptly find a bathroom (nerves affect me that way) & then call Chris to tell him everything is fine. He answers on the second ring, listens quietly, then says, “That’s good news, because I can’t find your birth certificate.”
WHAT?
“Are you sure? It’s in the envelope marked Birth Certificates.”
“I have the entire box here (he was still at the bank) & I’ve looked through everything- it’s not here.”
Another wave of cold sweats- this could have been soooo bad; I apologize to Chris for the wasted trip & tell him not to worry about it- I’ll find it when I get home. After I retrieve my suitcases, I head off into another maze of construction detours (is every terminal on the west coast of North American under construction?) to find the car rental desk & then my hotel for the night. It isn’t until a few hours later, while lying down, trying to rid myself of a stress-induced headache, that I remember where my birth certificate is located.
I had to submit it with my passport application.
I don’t think I’ll tell Chris that part.

Yaaawwwn...

Your Travel Personality Is: Easygoing

When you travel, you're looking for a lot of downtime. Vacations are your chance to recoup. All you need is a scenic spot and plenty of time on your hands. You'll figure out the rest. You're not one to make lots of plans when you travel. You just follow whatever path seems right. What's Your Travel Personality?

 

 

Hey, kids   

Yes, I'm back & I'm sleepy, so it's off to bed; I'll be back tomorrow with the first installment.

G'night.