The Tent was a CTV tent, and within it were some people manning a photo camera rig. I stood outside the tent watching the opening Ceremony on the big screen over the entranceway, and hadn't realised that I was in fact standing in a line up. A chinese girl was looking at me as if to say "Are you moving forward", so I stood aside. It later transpired that CTV were giving awayyy free cheesy photos of you and your friends overlayed on top of snowy olympics scenes from around the city, and they would print them out for you to take away. I also imagine they make good screen fodder for CTV to pack out collage scenes of the olympics into the news casts.
The jollity went on, and I started feeling the incresing rain and drizzle rolling down the top of my head. It got to the point where I had had enough, and decided to make my way back to the chocolate lily and watch the rest of the opening ceremony. Apparently Canada would come out last, which is what I wanted to see, and everyone was on tenter hooks wondering who would light the olympic flame. Would it be Wayne Gretzky, the all-time number one hockey player in history, or would it be the mother of Terry Fox, a true champion human being if ever there was one. Many names were bandied around, and I set out back to Kitsilano to curl up on the chaise longue to witness the remaining events.
On my return, Canada were due out imminently. I waited, and when they emerged - coupled with the olympic happiness from the city I'd just been enveloped in - a tear trickled from my eye. It was so nice to see Canada being so happy about being who they are, and hosting the world in such a friendly and open way. The arms were open wide to everyone, embodied by the army of olympic volunteers, and here were Canada's hope for these games emerging in their red and white uniforms. It was a sight, and the cheering in the stadium could almost be heard across the city in Kitsilano.
The spectacle was winding to its climax, and the mystery was about to be revealed. The flame bearers started emerging, and a mixture of personalities emerged. One was Terry Fox's mum, another was Wayne Gretzky, and there were a couple more. There was a hushed and embarrassed silence as the flame cauldrons faiiled to appear from the stage due to a mechanical fault but once they did, an unfortunate female athlete had her olympic flame lighting dreams ruined by her part of the cauldron not appearing from the set. I was impressed though with Canada's choice to have 4 flame bearers each light the cauldron - the first one indoors at any olympic games. Canada has always been an extremely diverse country, and the multiple representations of Canada's sporting greatness - past and present, able bodied and disabled - is a great way of showing the world that it is a country that appreciates that diversity.
In the closing part of the ceremony, it was exciting when Gretzky went to light the external permanent flame. I toyed with getting back out to go and see his motorcade through the streets. The salacious news channels were talking about al-quaeda et al targetting the games - would the get Gretzky? What bollocks....
It all ended very happily, and you just get swept up in the pomp of it all. They endlessly repeated what I think were the absolute highlight of the games - the up-front, center stage presence of Canada's First Nations people. On the west coast, there is countless symbolism generated by these people - totems, painting, the mighty Inukshuks (which are the way-markers used by the inuit made from stone, and the remarkable symbol of the Olympic Winter Games for Vancouver). It is a culture I love and whose art I am in awe of. The powerful history, and the sheer antiquity of these civilisations were displayed for all to see, and I hope the world loves them as much as I do.
If the night could have a punchline, it would be that there is an olympic spirit, and it arrived in vancouver. Let the games begin.
This is a warts-and-all account of my trip to the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Winter Games.
Sunday, 21 February 2010
15th and 16th of Feb - sleeping on a yacht, and curling
I woke up actually quite early, in spite of the late night before. The credit card was playing on my mind, and I was also wondering who I had kept awake with my talking on the phone in the lobby of the main Manor house.
I had been asked to call mastercard back to get confirmation of the credit card replacement, and planned to do this after breakfast.
The previous day, I had spoken to Jason in the kitchen about maybe getting some pancakes for breakfast. He seemed reluctant, indicating that if he did them for me others would then want them. He said he could, since it was my last day and he didn't want to disappoint. I thought this was good of him, so when I came down he said to me a knowing "Ah, yes...." I played along and didn't say anything. He waited for the kitchen to empty - we get all of our breakfast items in the kitchen - before making them. I think he doesn't do them as much because it is slow. He can only make one at a time, and typically you want two or three depending on how big. With an omelette you'd only need one from one pan.
They were really good, with syrup of course and whipped butter.
I had a light lunch, and then packed and phoned mastercard. They eventually gave me a day for delivery but would need to contact me. There was an issue with my aunt and uncle's Dockside address - it was their post office address with a box, to which UPS would not deliver. Numerous phone calls later, and I had their actual street address. Problems solved, I said my goodbyes to the manager David at the Manor house to make my way across the city and down to the Tsawassen Ferry Terminal to start my stay on Vancouver island. On one ticket, I was able to go all the way to the teminal. It was a two zone pass instead of the cheaper one zone pass most people buy. I had bought the pack of ten of them at the airport on arrival, and although I was always using them usually within one zone, they came in handy today.
I took the Canada line to Bridgeport station, where I had to wait for my bus to the terminal.
I needed the washrooms, and the guy told me to go into the Casino of all places to take a leak. As I walked through the various walkways and ramps, I heard Bill Cosby endorsing the casino company: "Hi, I'm Bill Cosby. When I'm not out gambling at River Rock and winning lots of money, I like to go into the foyer and ride the escalator up and down". What was Bill Cosby doing endorsing gambling in this way? All manner of celebrities clearly decided they had to join him.
It was an odyssey finding the toilets, sent on a wild goose chase past numerous receptions and gambling machines before I could go.
The bus that took us to the teminal was clean and was a bendy bus. It stopped at numerous places - I later learned of an express bus that doesn't stop and takes half the time.
The Ferry terminal itself is quite extensive. I had to take a moment to figure out where I was going, and used the automated ticket machines to buy my ticket with my now only piece of plastic - my debit card. Fortunately I would be able to keep track of how much money was in my account by getting a combination number for the account from Liz, who would press the button on my behalf in the UK and tell me the number.
I had a long wait for the ferry. Once it came, people piled into a long bridge to board. I wondered how well the bridge was built to take this many people because they wereseveral deep all along the length. I got on without a hitch, and was suprised to find it was actually quite a big ship. There were shops, restaurants and a private lounge where you could pay $10 and get a leather reclining seat and as much drinks and snacks as you please. I headed in there, and it was also very quiet and relaxing. BC Ferries had a selection of Banana loaf, flapjacks, nuts and various teas, hot choc, coffees and cheese/biscuits. There was also yoghurt and newspapers/magazines. I later learned it varied throughout the day.
I had tried to sell my curling tickets earlier in the day in order to not have to take this ferry at an ungodly hour of the morning to make the 9am session in the center of Vancouver. I was of course unsuccessful - everyone I spoke to seemed to already have tickets - so I chatted to the guy behind the tea urns about getting to the mainland. He said there'd only be a 7am sailing, altough there was a 2am sailing as well. Great! I could sleep in the streets near the curling center.
The journey on the ferry passed through some beautiful parts of the islets around Vancouver island. The ship maneuvered in and around these islands and the journey was very pleasant. The ship was called the Queen of New Minster, and appeared to be an old ship refitted. Indeed, I came across the plaque commemorating this as I exited the ship.
On entering the arrivals area of the Swartz Bay terminal (essentially half an hour from Victoria), I phoned uncle Dennett and he came in his sporty car with the mechanical roof to pick me up.
I had a scenic ride up to their place, where they live in a house boat on the water of Fishermans Wharf, a small collection of such homes. They also have a Mainship 400 that I would be sleeping in. It is basically a yacht - a gin palace, if one was so inclined. So to add to my experiences, I have now slept in a yacht.
I got up relatively late and banged my head on the protrusion above the bed. I filled the toilet with water and had to hunch low to see my teeth in the mirror. The shower was good, but the hot water ran out after a small while.
We got out early and made the ferry without 15 minutes to spare. I got to the curling venue with an hour nearly having passed of the heat, and I eventually found my seat after buying a curling tshirt and pin.
I wanted some food, but saved myself for the lunch I was intending to have afterwards.
I was sat in the audience next to a lady from england and I also had a real curling fan who knew his stuff sitting in the row in front. I noticed the lady had a nice camera, and I asked her where she was from and whether she knew the rules of curling. She replied "No", which flabbergasted me since she was sitting in what the older guy said were some of the best seats in the house (and highest prices - but you could see all of the ice sheets, and thus every match) so I started to explain to her what little I knew. We then got the chap involved, and he patiently answered our questions.
Curling is very tactical. There are 4 players per side: lead, second, third and the skipper. They each take two stones in turn based competition with the opposite side, and in the order listed - so skip shoots last. The game is split into 10 ends, and the objective is to have your stones as close to the center of the house as possible in order to win points. The house is a series of 3 concentric circles, 12 foot, 8 foot and 4 foot. The very center is called the button. The first two stones put out are called guardstones if they don't enter the house, and cannot be peeled off until after the 4th stone has been played. The team to shoot last in an end are said to "have the hammer", meaning they have last stone. The hammer is a position of dominance, but a team loses the hammer in the next end if they win the current end. One wins an end by having N stones closer to the button than your opponents nearest-to-center rock; when this happens, a team scores N points for the end. A team may choose to blank an end if they have hammer in order to keep hammer for the final end; blanking an end is hard, and can only usually be done if the opponents first rocks both enter the house - these rocks can be peeled off, leading to a blanked end. This allows them to have the dominant hammer position if they need it in order to have last rock in the final end, and this is especially good if you are tied going into the 10th.
With all of this in mind, Norway took Canada to a nail biting finish on the 16th of Feb. Canada have the best Curler in the world called Kevin Martin, and as the intensity built up and Canada drew with Norway coming out of the 10th end, it forced an 11th end. A log jam of stones both in guard and around the button forced Martin to perform a god shot on the hammer stone in the 11th end to raise the audience in stupefaction from their seats, as the most closely watched piece of granite did what is called in curling "drawing into the button", meaning he negotiated a chicane of stones and sailed it past all others to sit closer to the center than any other stone on the ice with no stones left to play. He sure played it well, and as everyone was on their feet watching it a sort of "yes, yeS, yES, YES - COME ON WWWWAAAAYYYYYY" erupted in the stadium and the roof I'm sure lifted a few inches. Canadians are fierce curling fanatics and the exhuberance and excitement were enough to make you palpitate. Canada winning on Canadian soil is, as I've said before, a great thing for a Canadian to experience. And done in such a way makes it all the more sweet.
The match ended on a high, and I exited feeling happy to have seen a master at work. It was now time for lunch, and I went into Queen Elizabeth Park in search of a gem I had found on the internet - the Seasons In the Park restaurant.
It sits atop an overhang in the park overlooking the trees to the city and mountains beyond. I went in, checked in my coat and bag, and headed to what must be one of the best tables in the whole place on the left with excellent views of the city and mountains. I ordered just a starter and explained I would maybe eat another if I wasn't full. The service was friendly and excellent, and very prompt. I had asked the girl what she recommended and she suggested the Dungenness Crab cakes. I went with this, and it was actually one cake. Quite large, with an amazing salad of fork sized pea shoots in a dressing that complimented the cake perfectly. There was a balsamic glaze and it was just heavenly.
I decided to order a second starter, and I was treated to the most delightful salad. It was simply their Mixed green salad. It contained the salad leaves in an awesome maple syrup vinaigrette, with candied almonds, strawberries and a very granular but smooth softened goats cheeses. The mixture of very simple flavours and textures made this the best salad I had ever experienced. The crunch of the sweetened salty almonds, the tangy silkyness of the goats cheese crumbled over and spread around, the unctiousness of the strawberries and the sweet and piquant vinaigrette cobined effortlessly and each complimented the other perfectly. Every mouthful was taken of the fresh salad with as many of the ingredients together as possible. Incredible.
I toyed with staying in the city longer, but needed to get unpacked and relax while I have some free time.
I journeyed back by ferry, in the private lounge again.
For a curling match I had tried to get rid of the day before, I was sure blessed with an experience I won't forget in a hurry. I got therlate, and it all really hinged on Kevin Martin's hammer rock in the 11th. Some great things do happen if you are patient and persistent, even if you are late with it. I had a great time in the space of a small amount of time, and I had journed 7 hours round trip for the priviledge.
I had been asked to call mastercard back to get confirmation of the credit card replacement, and planned to do this after breakfast.
The previous day, I had spoken to Jason in the kitchen about maybe getting some pancakes for breakfast. He seemed reluctant, indicating that if he did them for me others would then want them. He said he could, since it was my last day and he didn't want to disappoint. I thought this was good of him, so when I came down he said to me a knowing "Ah, yes...." I played along and didn't say anything. He waited for the kitchen to empty - we get all of our breakfast items in the kitchen - before making them. I think he doesn't do them as much because it is slow. He can only make one at a time, and typically you want two or three depending on how big. With an omelette you'd only need one from one pan.
They were really good, with syrup of course and whipped butter.
I had a light lunch, and then packed and phoned mastercard. They eventually gave me a day for delivery but would need to contact me. There was an issue with my aunt and uncle's Dockside address - it was their post office address with a box, to which UPS would not deliver. Numerous phone calls later, and I had their actual street address. Problems solved, I said my goodbyes to the manager David at the Manor house to make my way across the city and down to the Tsawassen Ferry Terminal to start my stay on Vancouver island. On one ticket, I was able to go all the way to the teminal. It was a two zone pass instead of the cheaper one zone pass most people buy. I had bought the pack of ten of them at the airport on arrival, and although I was always using them usually within one zone, they came in handy today.
I took the Canada line to Bridgeport station, where I had to wait for my bus to the terminal.
I needed the washrooms, and the guy told me to go into the Casino of all places to take a leak. As I walked through the various walkways and ramps, I heard Bill Cosby endorsing the casino company: "Hi, I'm Bill Cosby. When I'm not out gambling at River Rock and winning lots of money, I like to go into the foyer and ride the escalator up and down". What was Bill Cosby doing endorsing gambling in this way? All manner of celebrities clearly decided they had to join him.
It was an odyssey finding the toilets, sent on a wild goose chase past numerous receptions and gambling machines before I could go.
The bus that took us to the teminal was clean and was a bendy bus. It stopped at numerous places - I later learned of an express bus that doesn't stop and takes half the time.
The Ferry terminal itself is quite extensive. I had to take a moment to figure out where I was going, and used the automated ticket machines to buy my ticket with my now only piece of plastic - my debit card. Fortunately I would be able to keep track of how much money was in my account by getting a combination number for the account from Liz, who would press the button on my behalf in the UK and tell me the number.
I had a long wait for the ferry. Once it came, people piled into a long bridge to board. I wondered how well the bridge was built to take this many people because they wereseveral deep all along the length. I got on without a hitch, and was suprised to find it was actually quite a big ship. There were shops, restaurants and a private lounge where you could pay $10 and get a leather reclining seat and as much drinks and snacks as you please. I headed in there, and it was also very quiet and relaxing. BC Ferries had a selection of Banana loaf, flapjacks, nuts and various teas, hot choc, coffees and cheese/biscuits. There was also yoghurt and newspapers/magazines. I later learned it varied throughout the day.
I had tried to sell my curling tickets earlier in the day in order to not have to take this ferry at an ungodly hour of the morning to make the 9am session in the center of Vancouver. I was of course unsuccessful - everyone I spoke to seemed to already have tickets - so I chatted to the guy behind the tea urns about getting to the mainland. He said there'd only be a 7am sailing, altough there was a 2am sailing as well. Great! I could sleep in the streets near the curling center.
The journey on the ferry passed through some beautiful parts of the islets around Vancouver island. The ship maneuvered in and around these islands and the journey was very pleasant. The ship was called the Queen of New Minster, and appeared to be an old ship refitted. Indeed, I came across the plaque commemorating this as I exited the ship.
On entering the arrivals area of the Swartz Bay terminal (essentially half an hour from Victoria), I phoned uncle Dennett and he came in his sporty car with the mechanical roof to pick me up.
I had a scenic ride up to their place, where they live in a house boat on the water of Fishermans Wharf, a small collection of such homes. They also have a Mainship 400 that I would be sleeping in. It is basically a yacht - a gin palace, if one was so inclined. So to add to my experiences, I have now slept in a yacht.
I got up relatively late and banged my head on the protrusion above the bed. I filled the toilet with water and had to hunch low to see my teeth in the mirror. The shower was good, but the hot water ran out after a small while.
We got out early and made the ferry without 15 minutes to spare. I got to the curling venue with an hour nearly having passed of the heat, and I eventually found my seat after buying a curling tshirt and pin.
I wanted some food, but saved myself for the lunch I was intending to have afterwards.
I was sat in the audience next to a lady from england and I also had a real curling fan who knew his stuff sitting in the row in front. I noticed the lady had a nice camera, and I asked her where she was from and whether she knew the rules of curling. She replied "No", which flabbergasted me since she was sitting in what the older guy said were some of the best seats in the house (and highest prices - but you could see all of the ice sheets, and thus every match) so I started to explain to her what little I knew. We then got the chap involved, and he patiently answered our questions.
Curling is very tactical. There are 4 players per side: lead, second, third and the skipper. They each take two stones in turn based competition with the opposite side, and in the order listed - so skip shoots last. The game is split into 10 ends, and the objective is to have your stones as close to the center of the house as possible in order to win points. The house is a series of 3 concentric circles, 12 foot, 8 foot and 4 foot. The very center is called the button. The first two stones put out are called guardstones if they don't enter the house, and cannot be peeled off until after the 4th stone has been played. The team to shoot last in an end are said to "have the hammer", meaning they have last stone. The hammer is a position of dominance, but a team loses the hammer in the next end if they win the current end. One wins an end by having N stones closer to the button than your opponents nearest-to-center rock; when this happens, a team scores N points for the end. A team may choose to blank an end if they have hammer in order to keep hammer for the final end; blanking an end is hard, and can only usually be done if the opponents first rocks both enter the house - these rocks can be peeled off, leading to a blanked end. This allows them to have the dominant hammer position if they need it in order to have last rock in the final end, and this is especially good if you are tied going into the 10th.
With all of this in mind, Norway took Canada to a nail biting finish on the 16th of Feb. Canada have the best Curler in the world called Kevin Martin, and as the intensity built up and Canada drew with Norway coming out of the 10th end, it forced an 11th end. A log jam of stones both in guard and around the button forced Martin to perform a god shot on the hammer stone in the 11th end to raise the audience in stupefaction from their seats, as the most closely watched piece of granite did what is called in curling "drawing into the button", meaning he negotiated a chicane of stones and sailed it past all others to sit closer to the center than any other stone on the ice with no stones left to play. He sure played it well, and as everyone was on their feet watching it a sort of "yes, yeS, yES, YES - COME ON WWWWAAAAYYYYYY" erupted in the stadium and the roof I'm sure lifted a few inches. Canadians are fierce curling fanatics and the exhuberance and excitement were enough to make you palpitate. Canada winning on Canadian soil is, as I've said before, a great thing for a Canadian to experience. And done in such a way makes it all the more sweet.
The match ended on a high, and I exited feeling happy to have seen a master at work. It was now time for lunch, and I went into Queen Elizabeth Park in search of a gem I had found on the internet - the Seasons In the Park restaurant.
It sits atop an overhang in the park overlooking the trees to the city and mountains beyond. I went in, checked in my coat and bag, and headed to what must be one of the best tables in the whole place on the left with excellent views of the city and mountains. I ordered just a starter and explained I would maybe eat another if I wasn't full. The service was friendly and excellent, and very prompt. I had asked the girl what she recommended and she suggested the Dungenness Crab cakes. I went with this, and it was actually one cake. Quite large, with an amazing salad of fork sized pea shoots in a dressing that complimented the cake perfectly. There was a balsamic glaze and it was just heavenly.
I decided to order a second starter, and I was treated to the most delightful salad. It was simply their Mixed green salad. It contained the salad leaves in an awesome maple syrup vinaigrette, with candied almonds, strawberries and a very granular but smooth softened goats cheeses. The mixture of very simple flavours and textures made this the best salad I had ever experienced. The crunch of the sweetened salty almonds, the tangy silkyness of the goats cheese crumbled over and spread around, the unctiousness of the strawberries and the sweet and piquant vinaigrette cobined effortlessly and each complimented the other perfectly. Every mouthful was taken of the fresh salad with as many of the ingredients together as possible. Incredible.
I toyed with staying in the city longer, but needed to get unpacked and relax while I have some free time.
I journeyed back by ferry, in the private lounge again.
For a curling match I had tried to get rid of the day before, I was sure blessed with an experience I won't forget in a hurry. I got therlate, and it all really hinged on Kevin Martin's hammer rock in the 11th. Some great things do happen if you are patient and persistent, even if you are late with it. I had a great time in the space of a small amount of time, and I had journed 7 hours round trip for the priviledge.
14th of Feb - orchestra day
The day after the Short Track Speed skating, I was still very much on a high. I was chatting to everyone about their experiences, and everything that I had seen the previous day. I told them about the speed of the Canadian girls, and the roar of the crowds. They would tell me of the lineups in Cypress bowl, and of the cancellations up there. Let's hope it doesn't continue, since some people are only here a certain number of nights, so cannot afford to be waiting around for the snow to get the skiing under way; they either see something now, or go home empty handed.
I got up in the morning and had a shower in my air-lock -rincipled bathroom, and made my way down to breakfast. I was staggered at the "spread" of things on offer, and how cool and calm Jason was in his kitchen, even with all of these people milling around. I asked for scrambled eggs, and got the equivalent of probably 4 eggs. I had toast made from lovely fresh bread, a cheese and herb scone, and ample quantities of the awesome frozen - then reconstituted - orange juice. Sounds disgustingly artificial, but is way better than even some freshly queezed because the juice is captured when the fruit is sweet.
Today was a day at leisure, so I resolved to go into the city and do some touristy stuff. First things were first though, so I managed to get online and speak to Liz while I was contemplating the day.
After talking and wishing each other happy valentines, I had made a rough plan to go down to the city center and look for stuff in the Olympic Superstore, which was part of the Bay department store. I would also look for something nice for Liz, and possibly for myself as well.
The The streets were thronging with people doing all manner of things. There were some awesome arts displays as part of the cultural Olympiad. Local people had made kantern cups to attach to these many artificial trees lining Granville Street - they would be illuminated at night. There were some unusual cut-outs into which people could form themselves, forcing poses ranging from the ski jump to the star jumps.
Moving further up the streets, I noticed a lineup that snaked out of the Royal Mint. It snaked, and kept snaking, until it petered out nearly a block away by a garbage can. This was in order for people to see the Olympic medals, and to see a specially minted $1Million coin. I would love to do this, but I'll wait until the lineup will be lesser towards the end of the games.
I got into the Bay store in Vancouver - 6 floors of stuff for sale, and all of this spawned out of the fur trade in the 1850's. I couldn't believe the amount of stuff on sale. There were confusing signs about a superstore on the top floor. When I got up there, this turned out to be for the bay to hawk their olympics clothing that they supply as the official Outfitter to the Olympic games, but this was not Olympics endorsed merchandising. I picked up a toque, blanket and Tshirt and headed downstairs to where I am sure I saw a huge official banner of the Olympics. Indeed there was a huge area of stuff, and people seemed to be in there but there wasn't any visible way of getting in there from inside the store.
Eventually it transpired that the entrance was outside the building on Seymour street, so I headed out there. I heard talk of a $1 entrance fee - what, to see stuff I might want to buy? Imagine paying to go into a store, inside of which you may not buy anything. When I finally hit the streets, the lineup seemed endlessly long, but moving very fast. How were people going in so quickly? Then I realised the likely cause - people probably didn't want to buy once they got in there. It could be due to prices, or stock levels, or both.
Forget that!
I walked around, went into a few places to soak up the atmosphere. I like to frequent coffee shops, and then stand in the street sipping and walking slowly.
I then went to what is now a Canadian institution - the Roots store. It's a clothing store, which is very proudly Canadian. Their stuff is nicely made, and their prices are medium to upper pricey. Service in Canadian stores is always superb, no matter where I seem to go. I explained to one of the girls a dilemma I was having finding something in a particular colour for my girlfriend, and she said to me "You know what, I can help you out with that". She took me to an island of shelves, got on her knees and reached behind a load of piles of tshirts to find the last few of what I was looking for. I was so happy she could help me out. I got around to paying for the stuff, and noticed they were giving away free wooley hats if you bought a certain amount on your mastercard. Bonus!
My plans for this valentines evening were to include the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra at the Orpheum Theater. It was starting to get late, and I had been in two minds all day about what to do with my evening. I went down to the Orpheum theater to take a look at the ticket availability, but there was a sign on the door saying to call the VSO box office, or to go online. Well, I did not know of the location of the nearest internet cafe, and I had computer access for free back tha the Manor House to perform the booking. I decided to go back to the Manor Guest House and look up the site.
On the VSO site, the booking system seemed broken, so I phoned the VSO. The time was now 7:30pm - pants, the VSO starts at 8pm. It'll take a few minutes on the phone, 10 to get to the station, 20 to get across town and find the box office - I'd be cutting it fine. Maybe they'd take the booking on the phone. The guy explained that he didn't take bookings on the phone, and also that the door where I had seen the sign must have been the back door - the ticket office was on the other side of the building. So a trip back to the Manor wasted because of poor signage. I toyed for a few minutes with this in my mind, wondering if the trip would be worth it. I got out of the manor at 7:45pm, and decided to run down to the train. It would be empty on the way into the city - I had seen this on the way back up here earlier.
It turned out that there was a bit of a lineup, and I got into it. On getting down to the platform, I waited for the train and when it arrived I chose my door. There were I think 6 to choose from, and I got into one of them and stood right in the doorway for a quick escape at my stop 4 stops on. And something rather unlikely happened.
I noticed someone in the corner of my eye right next to me possibly gesturing to someone about me. Was my fly down? I then heard her say "its that guy", and after that I turned and saw her smiling at me. I then turnede and saw her friend. And then it twigged - in a city of 2 million people, I happen to get into the same carriage and stand directly against the two people I had shared a taxi with to get to the Short track speed skating the previous day. What were the chances? And they were only intersecting with me by one stop. We each noted the unlikelihood of this, and urged that if it happens again there is something someone is trying to tell us.
I got to the ticket office at 8:05pm, and that is when my holiday experienced both its best second piece of fortune and its turn for the worse.
I gave the girl in the ticket booth my mastercard and started negotiating a seat. I wanted one of their best seats. As I was talking to her, a lady pulled on my jacket and said "No, wait - we've got free tickets". The olympic happiness and kindness of strangers in this incredible city dragged me into conversation with her, and her offer was 100% genuine - they had top price tickets that were sponsor promoted and 2 out of the 8 in their party couldn't make it. Paydirt! She wanted to give me both of them, and then I just followed her because she wanted to see which seats werewhere so the 6 of them could remain together. I didn't mind - I was happy to save some money. We then parted ways, and I went to my seat. I now note at this point in retrospect that the Mastercard was still at the box office, and the need to resolve seat locations is what brought me away from it.
The evening went off without a hitch - I was treated to Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet, Buhr's Winter poems (an act of genius by a contemporary Canadian composer) and Daniel Bernard Roumain playing his Voodoo Violin Concerto. Roumain is well spoken, confident and relaxed. His music is a mixture of insanity and beauty, and no doubt gave the orchestra something different and unusual to play. Their performance of Romeo and Juliet - particularly the Dance of the Knights - was awesome and Buhr's haunting music - which depict the praries of Canada - were as room filling as the columns of wind streaking across the corn fields.
I came away staggered at the day's synchronicities, and it wasn't until I got to a shop on the way home to pick up Milk for my tea that the sting in the tail - the missing mastercard - hit me. I spent the rest of the evening pacing and checking pockets, and phoning mastercard. I wound up at 01:30 am with my one main source of funds for my holiday being cancelled without me asking them to do it.
So on days when good things happen, always look out - the first man gets the oyster; the second man gets the shell. On this day, I got both.
I got up in the morning and had a shower in my air-lock -rincipled bathroom, and made my way down to breakfast. I was staggered at the "spread" of things on offer, and how cool and calm Jason was in his kitchen, even with all of these people milling around. I asked for scrambled eggs, and got the equivalent of probably 4 eggs. I had toast made from lovely fresh bread, a cheese and herb scone, and ample quantities of the awesome frozen - then reconstituted - orange juice. Sounds disgustingly artificial, but is way better than even some freshly queezed because the juice is captured when the fruit is sweet.
Today was a day at leisure, so I resolved to go into the city and do some touristy stuff. First things were first though, so I managed to get online and speak to Liz while I was contemplating the day.
After talking and wishing each other happy valentines, I had made a rough plan to go down to the city center and look for stuff in the Olympic Superstore, which was part of the Bay department store. I would also look for something nice for Liz, and possibly for myself as well.
The The streets were thronging with people doing all manner of things. There were some awesome arts displays as part of the cultural Olympiad. Local people had made kantern cups to attach to these many artificial trees lining Granville Street - they would be illuminated at night. There were some unusual cut-outs into which people could form themselves, forcing poses ranging from the ski jump to the star jumps.
Moving further up the streets, I noticed a lineup that snaked out of the Royal Mint. It snaked, and kept snaking, until it petered out nearly a block away by a garbage can. This was in order for people to see the Olympic medals, and to see a specially minted $1Million coin. I would love to do this, but I'll wait until the lineup will be lesser towards the end of the games.
I got into the Bay store in Vancouver - 6 floors of stuff for sale, and all of this spawned out of the fur trade in the 1850's. I couldn't believe the amount of stuff on sale. There were confusing signs about a superstore on the top floor. When I got up there, this turned out to be for the bay to hawk their olympics clothing that they supply as the official Outfitter to the Olympic games, but this was not Olympics endorsed merchandising. I picked up a toque, blanket and Tshirt and headed downstairs to where I am sure I saw a huge official banner of the Olympics. Indeed there was a huge area of stuff, and people seemed to be in there but there wasn't any visible way of getting in there from inside the store.
Eventually it transpired that the entrance was outside the building on Seymour street, so I headed out there. I heard talk of a $1 entrance fee - what, to see stuff I might want to buy? Imagine paying to go into a store, inside of which you may not buy anything. When I finally hit the streets, the lineup seemed endlessly long, but moving very fast. How were people going in so quickly? Then I realised the likely cause - people probably didn't want to buy once they got in there. It could be due to prices, or stock levels, or both.
Forget that!
I walked around, went into a few places to soak up the atmosphere. I like to frequent coffee shops, and then stand in the street sipping and walking slowly.
I then went to what is now a Canadian institution - the Roots store. It's a clothing store, which is very proudly Canadian. Their stuff is nicely made, and their prices are medium to upper pricey. Service in Canadian stores is always superb, no matter where I seem to go. I explained to one of the girls a dilemma I was having finding something in a particular colour for my girlfriend, and she said to me "You know what, I can help you out with that". She took me to an island of shelves, got on her knees and reached behind a load of piles of tshirts to find the last few of what I was looking for. I was so happy she could help me out. I got around to paying for the stuff, and noticed they were giving away free wooley hats if you bought a certain amount on your mastercard. Bonus!
My plans for this valentines evening were to include the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra at the Orpheum Theater. It was starting to get late, and I had been in two minds all day about what to do with my evening. I went down to the Orpheum theater to take a look at the ticket availability, but there was a sign on the door saying to call the VSO box office, or to go online. Well, I did not know of the location of the nearest internet cafe, and I had computer access for free back tha the Manor House to perform the booking. I decided to go back to the Manor Guest House and look up the site.
On the VSO site, the booking system seemed broken, so I phoned the VSO. The time was now 7:30pm - pants, the VSO starts at 8pm. It'll take a few minutes on the phone, 10 to get to the station, 20 to get across town and find the box office - I'd be cutting it fine. Maybe they'd take the booking on the phone. The guy explained that he didn't take bookings on the phone, and also that the door where I had seen the sign must have been the back door - the ticket office was on the other side of the building. So a trip back to the Manor wasted because of poor signage. I toyed for a few minutes with this in my mind, wondering if the trip would be worth it. I got out of the manor at 7:45pm, and decided to run down to the train. It would be empty on the way into the city - I had seen this on the way back up here earlier.
It turned out that there was a bit of a lineup, and I got into it. On getting down to the platform, I waited for the train and when it arrived I chose my door. There were I think 6 to choose from, and I got into one of them and stood right in the doorway for a quick escape at my stop 4 stops on. And something rather unlikely happened.
I noticed someone in the corner of my eye right next to me possibly gesturing to someone about me. Was my fly down? I then heard her say "its that guy", and after that I turned and saw her smiling at me. I then turnede and saw her friend. And then it twigged - in a city of 2 million people, I happen to get into the same carriage and stand directly against the two people I had shared a taxi with to get to the Short track speed skating the previous day. What were the chances? And they were only intersecting with me by one stop. We each noted the unlikelihood of this, and urged that if it happens again there is something someone is trying to tell us.
I got to the ticket office at 8:05pm, and that is when my holiday experienced both its best second piece of fortune and its turn for the worse.
I gave the girl in the ticket booth my mastercard and started negotiating a seat. I wanted one of their best seats. As I was talking to her, a lady pulled on my jacket and said "No, wait - we've got free tickets". The olympic happiness and kindness of strangers in this incredible city dragged me into conversation with her, and her offer was 100% genuine - they had top price tickets that were sponsor promoted and 2 out of the 8 in their party couldn't make it. Paydirt! She wanted to give me both of them, and then I just followed her because she wanted to see which seats werewhere so the 6 of them could remain together. I didn't mind - I was happy to save some money. We then parted ways, and I went to my seat. I now note at this point in retrospect that the Mastercard was still at the box office, and the need to resolve seat locations is what brought me away from it.
The evening went off without a hitch - I was treated to Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet, Buhr's Winter poems (an act of genius by a contemporary Canadian composer) and Daniel Bernard Roumain playing his Voodoo Violin Concerto. Roumain is well spoken, confident and relaxed. His music is a mixture of insanity and beauty, and no doubt gave the orchestra something different and unusual to play. Their performance of Romeo and Juliet - particularly the Dance of the Knights - was awesome and Buhr's haunting music - which depict the praries of Canada - were as room filling as the columns of wind streaking across the corn fields.
I came away staggered at the day's synchronicities, and it wasn't until I got to a shop on the way home to pick up Milk for my tea that the sting in the tail - the missing mastercard - hit me. I spent the rest of the evening pacing and checking pockets, and phoning mastercard. I wound up at 01:30 am with my one main source of funds for my holiday being cancelled without me asking them to do it.
So on days when good things happen, always look out - the first man gets the oyster; the second man gets the shell. On this day, I got both.
Friday, 19 February 2010
The 13th of feb - Short track Speed Skating
In the morning of the 13th, I talked to Karen at the Chocolate Lily about getting to my next destination - the Manor Guest House - and she said she would have a print of how to get there for me. I decided to follow one of the tips in their extensive binder of information about the surrounding area - one that they had lovingly put together over many years of experiencing the local outlets and attractions, taking time to put impressions and context into their entries. I had identified a coffee place - the perfect thing for breakfast.
I went up to "Bean around the world" just up Cornwall at the junction with Walnut, and ordered a cappuccino to take away, and a breakfast muffin. Their coffee was as the binder had promised - very good. The breakfast muffin was also great, with Ham, egg and various cheeses.
I returned back to my suite and found Karen had returned from a bike ride getting groceries. She asked me if I would like to see the other suite - the Linden - and I jumped at the chance.
The Linden had similar decore to the Laurel, except that the Linden was much bigger. It had a large fireplace, a proper kitchen - both open plan to eachother - a separate bedroom with a door, and a larger sitting area and larger TV, and a nice bathroom. If I recall, the nightly price for this wasn't that much greater than the Laurel, but you get a lot more. Karen said a person could cook a turkey in there if they wanted - it was nicely layed out and capable.
I checked out, sorry to see the back of the place and Kitsilano as a whole. Kitsilano has a very laid back feel to it. The streets are pretty and quiet and the beach is a short walk. There are lots of people running, people with dogs and lots of quiet. You wouldn't think Cornwall St. was just down there.... I fell in love with the place, but I will probably never be able to afford to live there.
Anyway, I have Short Track Speed skating today and I also have to get across town and checkin at the Manor Guest House. I said my goodbyes to Rob and Karen, and headed for the bus. I stood for quite a while with all my bags. Increasing numbers of people showed up and I was getting worried about losing my first place in the queue. Some of the people looked ppretty militant to the thought of lining up and so I had to stand my ground.
The journey took no time at all. I got to the Waterfront station just before 1pm, and I got caught up in what would be a nuisance trend with the Olympics in town. The Canada line - brand new, as I've said and very fast - is the line that takes people north to south in the city. And Translink are strictly regulating people going into the stations. I lined up for what seemed an eternity to get onto the platform. But Waterfront is the last station in line. If you are quite far south at a busy station, I have a theory that if you go one stop south to a quiet station - you are allowed to jump the queues if you are going south - and then simply get off that train and change platforms, it will be quicker than lining up for a train to the north. I never tried it, and it is probably only a phenomenon that applies when the olympics are in town.
I got to the manor House at a whisker past 3pm, and knocked at the door. Initial impressions were that it was an old building, and it showed by the sort of textured finish on the outside of the building. I rang the doorbell - it said to on the front door - and a guy who must be the cook answered the door (I found out later the door is always unlocked, and I could have just pushed it). He was a really nice guy and he asked if I was checking in. He was cooking a huge pot of mushrooms for something, and he seemed to probably be more of a chef than a cook. Was he cooking dinner for the owner?
The building itself that I waited in while Jason - the chef - got the manager was a turn of the 20th century building. It had beatiful wood panelling inside, and high ceilings. It must have once been owned by someone very wealthy.
I noticed my name on an envelope, and also saw that I was staying in a different building. It seemed like they have quite an operation here. The manager emerged a couple of minutes later - David is his name - and he was very friendly and took me up to my roon. We exited the building, and we went immediately next door. He opened a door on the right hand side, and as I entered a familiar smell wafted iinto my nostrils - new home smell. It all looked brand spanking new. The staircase was beautiful and fitted, dark wood with plugged fittings. Up to a new kitchen seating area, then up to my brand new room. It transpires the property had cost $1.6 Million and a further $800K to fit out.
My room had a step up into the room, and a high bed with nice sheets. The bathroom was an odd arrangement, but nothing to worry about. It had a door into my room as if it was an en-suite and a door into the hallway that was sliding. It worked on a sort of airlock principle. When I'm in there, I lock the sliding door but obviously keep my door into it unlocked. When I'm finished, I had to not forget to unlock the sliding door for the people across the hall to get access, but also that I have to lock my own door into it so that they cannot encroach on my room. One time I forgot to unlock the sliding door after I had finished, so I had a knock frrom the neighbours.
I was on a tight schedule to make it to the short track speed skating over at the Pacific Colliseum, so I took the train north again - lineups and all - and asked at waterfront how to get there. A transit person said to take the 135 bus from Hastings. I went immediately there, and wound up standing for quite a few minutes. Various 135s went by, each of them full. Weren't there buses dedicated to taking people to venues? The 135 is a scheduled service so isn't ideal.
I got talking to a guy in the line up and asked him if he was going to the short track. We yacked for a few minutes, then I noticed him and his girlfriend making tracks for a taxi. "Do you mind if I share your taxi with you?" I blurted, and the guy said "No problem sure you can". I followed them - it was awkward taking the spot since they seemed to be saying goodbye to friends whom they left to fend for themselves - but we got in, and had a new taxi driver who was out of his first ever pick up.
We chatted along the way about various things. It turned out that she was working for Coca Cola. I don't know what he did. It was a fun taxi ride, and we were joking about various things along the way. We got to the venue and the girl was expensing the taxi, so she said not too worry about the cost. We parted our ways, and I walked down to the stadium as fast as I could.
It was a large stadium - there was no way anyone would spot me in this crowd from the TV coverage. I found my seat, and I was sitting next to a couple from britain, and an irish guy that seemed to be at the event on his own. Wwe all got to chatting about things - what we were doing there, where we were from etc.
The short track speed skating is a nice sport - probably the most exciting one at the olympics. The skates are missing the hinged blade of long track, and there are more athletes involved.
There were several races tonight, and there were ample Canadians in the line up. The statistics are all available on the web, but as a Canadian myself it was so great to be here in an olympic venue in Canada - especially after the majesty of the atmosphere in the cccity, and the amazing spectacle of the opening ceremony - and able to support my country in person. It really was exhilirating.
Nothing can describe the first race, and the frenzy into which Canadians get when the Canadian athletes on the ice make the slightest move. Usually the move would be a decisive one, and in the heats the canadians worked just hard enough to get into the two finals. The surprise of the night was the world number two only making Final B which doesn't decide a medal. He won his final, but was dismayed at being in the B final. His compatriot in Final A wrangled his way up to fourth only because the Chinese number one crashed, along with the two Koreans who were in second and third.
The womens relay was a sight to behold. It wasn't going to lead to a medal race today, but the Canadian women's team came in second I believe. The irish guy and I noticed that there was one little pint pot of a girl on the Canadian relay team who seemed to have a tornado super power. When the rest of the Canadian girls were doing OK or falling back a bit, she would come on and skate like I've never seen anyone skate. She was so fast, and in her short time at full pelt would close significant parts of any gap. It was breathtaking, and the spectators were loving it all. Canada on Canadian soil - an awesome combination.
I will remember the excitement of this night for a long time to come. I'm not qualified to really commentate at all on this sport, but being in the stadium is completely different to seeing it on TV, and it is really the best way to see the olympics, and to cheer on your country. As someone living in britain, where nationalism and pride of that nature is inextricably linked with the pollution that is the BNP/National front, coming to Canada where I grew up and seeing the national pride on show have really been a wake up call. Call it the olympic spirit again, call it my imagination, being there changed the way living in britain has made me think.
I went up to "Bean around the world" just up Cornwall at the junction with Walnut, and ordered a cappuccino to take away, and a breakfast muffin. Their coffee was as the binder had promised - very good. The breakfast muffin was also great, with Ham, egg and various cheeses.
I returned back to my suite and found Karen had returned from a bike ride getting groceries. She asked me if I would like to see the other suite - the Linden - and I jumped at the chance.
The Linden had similar decore to the Laurel, except that the Linden was much bigger. It had a large fireplace, a proper kitchen - both open plan to eachother - a separate bedroom with a door, and a larger sitting area and larger TV, and a nice bathroom. If I recall, the nightly price for this wasn't that much greater than the Laurel, but you get a lot more. Karen said a person could cook a turkey in there if they wanted - it was nicely layed out and capable.
I checked out, sorry to see the back of the place and Kitsilano as a whole. Kitsilano has a very laid back feel to it. The streets are pretty and quiet and the beach is a short walk. There are lots of people running, people with dogs and lots of quiet. You wouldn't think Cornwall St. was just down there.... I fell in love with the place, but I will probably never be able to afford to live there.
Anyway, I have Short Track Speed skating today and I also have to get across town and checkin at the Manor Guest House. I said my goodbyes to Rob and Karen, and headed for the bus. I stood for quite a while with all my bags. Increasing numbers of people showed up and I was getting worried about losing my first place in the queue. Some of the people looked ppretty militant to the thought of lining up and so I had to stand my ground.
The journey took no time at all. I got to the Waterfront station just before 1pm, and I got caught up in what would be a nuisance trend with the Olympics in town. The Canada line - brand new, as I've said and very fast - is the line that takes people north to south in the city. And Translink are strictly regulating people going into the stations. I lined up for what seemed an eternity to get onto the platform. But Waterfront is the last station in line. If you are quite far south at a busy station, I have a theory that if you go one stop south to a quiet station - you are allowed to jump the queues if you are going south - and then simply get off that train and change platforms, it will be quicker than lining up for a train to the north. I never tried it, and it is probably only a phenomenon that applies when the olympics are in town.
I got to the manor House at a whisker past 3pm, and knocked at the door. Initial impressions were that it was an old building, and it showed by the sort of textured finish on the outside of the building. I rang the doorbell - it said to on the front door - and a guy who must be the cook answered the door (I found out later the door is always unlocked, and I could have just pushed it). He was a really nice guy and he asked if I was checking in. He was cooking a huge pot of mushrooms for something, and he seemed to probably be more of a chef than a cook. Was he cooking dinner for the owner?
The building itself that I waited in while Jason - the chef - got the manager was a turn of the 20th century building. It had beatiful wood panelling inside, and high ceilings. It must have once been owned by someone very wealthy.
I noticed my name on an envelope, and also saw that I was staying in a different building. It seemed like they have quite an operation here. The manager emerged a couple of minutes later - David is his name - and he was very friendly and took me up to my roon. We exited the building, and we went immediately next door. He opened a door on the right hand side, and as I entered a familiar smell wafted iinto my nostrils - new home smell. It all looked brand spanking new. The staircase was beautiful and fitted, dark wood with plugged fittings. Up to a new kitchen seating area, then up to my brand new room. It transpires the property had cost $1.6 Million and a further $800K to fit out.
My room had a step up into the room, and a high bed with nice sheets. The bathroom was an odd arrangement, but nothing to worry about. It had a door into my room as if it was an en-suite and a door into the hallway that was sliding. It worked on a sort of airlock principle. When I'm in there, I lock the sliding door but obviously keep my door into it unlocked. When I'm finished, I had to not forget to unlock the sliding door for the people across the hall to get access, but also that I have to lock my own door into it so that they cannot encroach on my room. One time I forgot to unlock the sliding door after I had finished, so I had a knock frrom the neighbours.
I was on a tight schedule to make it to the short track speed skating over at the Pacific Colliseum, so I took the train north again - lineups and all - and asked at waterfront how to get there. A transit person said to take the 135 bus from Hastings. I went immediately there, and wound up standing for quite a few minutes. Various 135s went by, each of them full. Weren't there buses dedicated to taking people to venues? The 135 is a scheduled service so isn't ideal.
I got talking to a guy in the line up and asked him if he was going to the short track. We yacked for a few minutes, then I noticed him and his girlfriend making tracks for a taxi. "Do you mind if I share your taxi with you?" I blurted, and the guy said "No problem sure you can". I followed them - it was awkward taking the spot since they seemed to be saying goodbye to friends whom they left to fend for themselves - but we got in, and had a new taxi driver who was out of his first ever pick up.
We chatted along the way about various things. It turned out that she was working for Coca Cola. I don't know what he did. It was a fun taxi ride, and we were joking about various things along the way. We got to the venue and the girl was expensing the taxi, so she said not too worry about the cost. We parted our ways, and I walked down to the stadium as fast as I could.
It was a large stadium - there was no way anyone would spot me in this crowd from the TV coverage. I found my seat, and I was sitting next to a couple from britain, and an irish guy that seemed to be at the event on his own. Wwe all got to chatting about things - what we were doing there, where we were from etc.
The short track speed skating is a nice sport - probably the most exciting one at the olympics. The skates are missing the hinged blade of long track, and there are more athletes involved.
There were several races tonight, and there were ample Canadians in the line up. The statistics are all available on the web, but as a Canadian myself it was so great to be here in an olympic venue in Canada - especially after the majesty of the atmosphere in the cccity, and the amazing spectacle of the opening ceremony - and able to support my country in person. It really was exhilirating.
Nothing can describe the first race, and the frenzy into which Canadians get when the Canadian athletes on the ice make the slightest move. Usually the move would be a decisive one, and in the heats the canadians worked just hard enough to get into the two finals. The surprise of the night was the world number two only making Final B which doesn't decide a medal. He won his final, but was dismayed at being in the B final. His compatriot in Final A wrangled his way up to fourth only because the Chinese number one crashed, along with the two Koreans who were in second and third.
The womens relay was a sight to behold. It wasn't going to lead to a medal race today, but the Canadian women's team came in second I believe. The irish guy and I noticed that there was one little pint pot of a girl on the Canadian relay team who seemed to have a tornado super power. When the rest of the Canadian girls were doing OK or falling back a bit, she would come on and skate like I've never seen anyone skate. She was so fast, and in her short time at full pelt would close significant parts of any gap. It was breathtaking, and the spectators were loving it all. Canada on Canadian soil - an awesome combination.
I will remember the excitement of this night for a long time to come. I'm not qualified to really commentate at all on this sport, but being in the stadium is completely different to seeing it on TV, and it is really the best way to see the olympics, and to cheer on your country. As someone living in britain, where nationalism and pride of that nature is inextricably linked with the pollution that is the BNP/National front, coming to Canada where I grew up and seeing the national pride on show have really been a wake up call. Call it the olympic spirit again, call it my imagination, being there changed the way living in britain has made me think.
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Settling in in vancouver - 11th; Olympic spirit on the 12th
So in the evening of the 11th of feb, I ate very nicely and crashed on the couch at the Chocolate Lily. I wanted to do stuff, but I'd booked this precisely because it was peaceful. I then slept a few hours, and woke up in time to speak to Liz before she went off to work.
I'll describe a bit more of the Chocolate Lily. The bed is big and squishy with nice pillows. There's also the chaise longue, which has some pillows that you can put up against the wall along the top of the chaise for extra padding so you can sit up straight and watch the TV. This is all in the Laurel suite, by the way, which is the smaller of the two suites they've got. I did actually get to see inside the Linden suite, but I'll write about that in another post.
Next morning I decided to have the morning in the suite, and do a bit of rummaging around on the TV. There were various flavours of news coverage, mostly about the run up, and about the tragic death of Nordar, the Georgian Lugist. Something that horrified me was the Canadian media showed Nordar's accident in full. It was horrifying to watch, and out of respect for him I will not repeat what I saw.
After a somewhat slothful morning, I finally got going and enjoyed a great shower in the beautiful slate bathroom with the heated flooring. I couldn't really see where my day had gone, but the purpose of a holiday like this was to de-stress and chill out after a stressful period of work. I gathered the documents I needed to get my Olympics tickets, and after slowly preparing myself I decided to "treat" myself to an old favourite: Kraft Dinner. I have a microwave in the room, so it made sense to get the dosed KD bowls where all you do is add water and microwave, then mix the cheese packet in. This was like performing a school chemistry experiment, with multiple phases. It was frankenfood at its finest, and filled a lunch gap that went without earlier in the day.
At 3pm, I then set out to get my olympics tickets. I walked all the way across the Burrard street bridge, and caught a bus to go into the heart of the City. BEar in mind that this day is the day of the olympics opening, and as a result Vancouver had many new inhabitants - including ticket touts and tourists. I was of course one of these tourists, and on my journey into the city with fresh eyes, everything looks so impressive. I noticed many people had olympic rings in lights on the balconies of their flats, all sorts of messages were displayed in windows urging Canada success in the games, usually Go Canada Go! or Go Team Canada! etc.
Everyone looks so happy. There are people from all over the world. I can't help noticing how many people are wearing Canada branded clothing - I'd estimate that 75% of all the people I saw in the street had on either that clothing, or had the Red Vancouver 2010 mittens.
My purpose in town was - on this occassion - to pick up my Olympics tickets. They are available to pick up at a hotel suite on Robson street. I walked quickly to try and make it before the 5:30 closing.
When I got there, it was a bit of a nightmare. They had apparently over-refunded me by nearly 300 pounds. This didn't make me happy, but fortunately I was in a situation to be able to pay it. The tickets are made out of thick card, printed with a stylised representation of the sport for which they are for. They have a hologram endorsing them officially, and the seat/price etc.
I left, and decided that there was a lot of action in the city to warrant staying around for a while to soak up the atmosphere. It was getting quite incredible seeing the build up to the opening, which of course was on the night that I was picking up the tickets.
There was this buzz in the street that caught me by surprise, and it was quite infectious. I'd heard that Canada had been skeptical about the games, but that as soon as the longest domestic torch relay in olympic history made it into home towns across the country, attitudes changed. And I could feel some of that attitude here. People were striking up conversations randomly with those standing nearby. You could ask anyone for help, and they would go out of their way to satisfy.
There were absolutely armies of official volunteers stood in the streets, ready to help people with directions, transit info etc. Why couldn't they have this at the station when I arrived? But they were all so helpful and friendly. Was this just how Vancouver normally is, or is it an olympic spirit? Is it the face of Vancouver, or the mask of Vancouver put on to impress the world. Time will tell, after the volunteers have answered the same questions over and over, and had one too many ndays in the cold.
There was a square in the city above which people were zip lining. I looked into it, and the line up was 5 hours long. A huge TV was projected onto the side of a building, and I had noticed that the olympics opening ceremony was underway.
I tried various places from which to view the ceremony, and eventually stumbled upon a tent where
I'll describe a bit more of the Chocolate Lily. The bed is big and squishy with nice pillows. There's also the chaise longue, which has some pillows that you can put up against the wall along the top of the chaise for extra padding so you can sit up straight and watch the TV. This is all in the Laurel suite, by the way, which is the smaller of the two suites they've got. I did actually get to see inside the Linden suite, but I'll write about that in another post.
Next morning I decided to have the morning in the suite, and do a bit of rummaging around on the TV. There were various flavours of news coverage, mostly about the run up, and about the tragic death of Nordar, the Georgian Lugist. Something that horrified me was the Canadian media showed Nordar's accident in full. It was horrifying to watch, and out of respect for him I will not repeat what I saw.
After a somewhat slothful morning, I finally got going and enjoyed a great shower in the beautiful slate bathroom with the heated flooring. I couldn't really see where my day had gone, but the purpose of a holiday like this was to de-stress and chill out after a stressful period of work. I gathered the documents I needed to get my Olympics tickets, and after slowly preparing myself I decided to "treat" myself to an old favourite: Kraft Dinner. I have a microwave in the room, so it made sense to get the dosed KD bowls where all you do is add water and microwave, then mix the cheese packet in. This was like performing a school chemistry experiment, with multiple phases. It was frankenfood at its finest, and filled a lunch gap that went without earlier in the day.
At 3pm, I then set out to get my olympics tickets. I walked all the way across the Burrard street bridge, and caught a bus to go into the heart of the City. BEar in mind that this day is the day of the olympics opening, and as a result Vancouver had many new inhabitants - including ticket touts and tourists. I was of course one of these tourists, and on my journey into the city with fresh eyes, everything looks so impressive. I noticed many people had olympic rings in lights on the balconies of their flats, all sorts of messages were displayed in windows urging Canada success in the games, usually Go Canada Go! or Go Team Canada! etc.
Everyone looks so happy. There are people from all over the world. I can't help noticing how many people are wearing Canada branded clothing - I'd estimate that 75% of all the people I saw in the street had on either that clothing, or had the Red Vancouver 2010 mittens.
My purpose in town was - on this occassion - to pick up my Olympics tickets. They are available to pick up at a hotel suite on Robson street. I walked quickly to try and make it before the 5:30 closing.
When I got there, it was a bit of a nightmare. They had apparently over-refunded me by nearly 300 pounds. This didn't make me happy, but fortunately I was in a situation to be able to pay it. The tickets are made out of thick card, printed with a stylised representation of the sport for which they are for. They have a hologram endorsing them officially, and the seat/price etc.
I left, and decided that there was a lot of action in the city to warrant staying around for a while to soak up the atmosphere. It was getting quite incredible seeing the build up to the opening, which of course was on the night that I was picking up the tickets.
There was this buzz in the street that caught me by surprise, and it was quite infectious. I'd heard that Canada had been skeptical about the games, but that as soon as the longest domestic torch relay in olympic history made it into home towns across the country, attitudes changed. And I could feel some of that attitude here. People were striking up conversations randomly with those standing nearby. You could ask anyone for help, and they would go out of their way to satisfy.
There were absolutely armies of official volunteers stood in the streets, ready to help people with directions, transit info etc. Why couldn't they have this at the station when I arrived? But they were all so helpful and friendly. Was this just how Vancouver normally is, or is it an olympic spirit? Is it the face of Vancouver, or the mask of Vancouver put on to impress the world. Time will tell, after the volunteers have answered the same questions over and over, and had one too many ndays in the cold.
There was a square in the city above which people were zip lining. I looked into it, and the line up was 5 hours long. A huge TV was projected onto the side of a building, and I had noticed that the olympics opening ceremony was underway.
I tried various places from which to view the ceremony, and eventually stumbled upon a tent where
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Leaving toronto, and chasing buses in taxiss
I planned my day today to what I thought was a good degree of tolerance. I would leave Nadia and Alan Gardens bandb at 9:30 prompt. I told Nadia the night before, and as such she had a delicious breakfast ready for me at 8:30.
The breakfast formula was pretty much the same, which is no bad thing when it is delicious. Only today her variation on the eggs was a pleasant surprise. A split english muffin, each half with warm ham and a poached egg, and then cheese melted over the top in the oven. Yummy. All the other favourites were there - the fruit, the porridge with Apples etc.
I was out the door at 9:40,with just enough time to catch the 10:00 bus. I walked down to the Delta Chelsea Hotel, and it arrived. I got on board, and then we started conversing about where we were headed and at what time. I said my flight was at 12:00, and the driver said to me "Really? That's not good - That's not good at all". In Englad, that would have been all they said and did, and I was expecting the same here. I got comfy in my seat as the driver explained we would be arriving at 11:10 at the airport. Maybe I hadn't told him my flight was domestic, and I would be fine. But then he sat up and said to me "You know what, you could get in a taxi right here and take it to the Waterfront Harbour Castle and be there in 10 minutes. There, you can catch the bus ahead of this one and get an extra half hour at least at the airport. I'll let him know you are coming".
Great - it could almost sound like a taxi chase across town. I got in a taxi and we headed that way. And actually it was a leisurely ride. We arrived at the hotel for the same time that the bus was either arriving, or he had come back to get me judging by the awkward parking.
I had a $20, and the fare was $9.25. I gave the driver the money and asked him for change. I got back a $10 - what about my $0.75? Well, you are in Canada - you tip people here for tripping you up on the stairs into a railway station (this did not happen, by the way). And if you don't tip them, they will tip themselves with your own money - like the taxi driver.
I got my bags, and the bus driver emerged, all mexican and that. I was expecting to be called a gringo.
"Are you the taxi man? Which terminal?" Abrupt. We did the pleasantries, and then we headed out. The last driver was right. I was at the airport in 20 minutes, as opposed to taking the sightseeing tour of every hotel within a few miles of the CNT.
I got to the airport, and the usual WTF occurred with the automatic checkin desks. It was my luck that I managed to find the only free machine that was missing an option for both Passport scanning, and confirmation number check-in. I got hot standing there wondering WTF at the machine, and there were only 2 attendants for nearly 30 machines. It didn't help that most of the people at the machines were old, and thus needed almost every button pressing for them. Well, to be honest standing at my machine I was confused as well.
But luck was on my side, and just as I was about to punch my own head open a machine became free next to an attendant that also became free. She explained to me that all I had to do was find the 6 letter confirmation number (yes - a number made of letters; so that's helpful then) and punch it into this amply stocked list of menu items, on the one that says "Confirmation number" under the checkin options.
Finally through, I went and bought another cruller (my second real one since being in Canada - I still don't see how The third Cruller I had at KK in Heathrow can be allowed to be called a Cruller under international law).
Take off and landing were fine. On the plane, I watched Zombieland, which was amusing, and another movie that I cannot remember. I also bought some food on the plane - domestic flights don't have complimentary food. A callifornia chicken wrap, and a couple of cookies. It was OK.
On arrival in Vancouver, I bought some transit passes - a book of 10 transfer tickets with a 2 hour transfer window, and a single day pass. I don't think I acted with my brain in gear later in the day when I accidentally validated my day pass for the half hour journey to the bandb with absolutely no intention of going out again during the evening. Oh well.
So going one step back. I took the Canada line - the cleanest newest train I've ever been on - to Waterfront Station. At Waterfront, god himself would get lost if he exists. Fancy that - the benchmark station into which all people arrive not having ANY transit desk to assist passengers. I orbited a pot plant and a sign containing irrelevant information more times than the Earth has circled the sun trying to see if I had just missed the help desk. I think I entered and exited the station entrance 6 times. Eventually, I phoned the guy at the bandb again and got his wife. She was very helpful, and explained that I should go to Pender street. I likened the scene out the front of the station to a scene in Zombieland, and thought this was a good suggestion. I was then to catch the 22 bus signposted Mcdonald to the Maple Street stop and wealk up.
Great - where's Pender street? I asked a police lady, with the opening Gambit "Do you know where Pender Street is? I would have thought with a big station like this they'd have a transit desk where I could ask this question". She pulled a face that said "Yeah - you and me buddy". Apparently she was a cop from somewhere else and wasn't familliar with Vancouver - fries with that sir?
Eventually, the cluster-f**k out the front of the station was behind me and I made my bus, and got to the Chocolate Lily.
I absolutely love this place! Rob came out to greet me and take me to the room. It's a nice suite, with a patio for dry days (it's raining) and very nice decor. Comfy furniture - chaise longue, ash leather seat that boings when you sit on it, a small kitcheny thing, a nice bed and a gorgeous slate tiled bathroom. That's just the start.
There was a basket of baked goodies all wrapped up nicely in a square bowl in a cloth, a plate of fruit with what appear to be chocolates bearing their logo, hand made in town; a bottle of wine in a complimentary Vancouver 2010 mens grooming bag (no other things inside); a box of chocolate cookies of all descriptions. In the fridge, a plate with smoked salmon and cream cheese (I see a bagel explosion coming); and two tins of mango puree and a couple of yoghurts.
All of this complimentary. And exploring further there is some nice tea of all descriptions, and there are two types of coffee. Milk is a freesh carton bought today that has not yet been opened.
All of their information is on styled notepaper. There's a flashlight outside on a nail just in case I need to use it if I forget to leave the patio loght on. The slate floor in the bathroom is heated.
This place is amazing.
Their house is a very nice wooden house, with shingle cladding or whatever you'd call it. I went upstairs and talked to Rob about vancouver. He told me lots, and I could have absorbed more of it if I wasn't so tired.
I went downstairs and ate one of the baked scones with the butter in a little dish at the bottom of the basket. I then had the smoked salmon and cheese on the poppy seed bagel, toasted. I had a couple of their teas - an organic rooibos, and a twinings english breakfast.
I then fell asleep for 3 hours on the chaise longue. I needed that. I've got a long, and potentially rainy day, ahead of me tomorrow.
Oh poo. I wanted to catch liz just before she goes to work. I finally got this tablet working with their wireless, but either missed Liz on google talk or she didn't log in. No matter - I'll email her after finishing this - which I will do now.
I planned my day today to what I thought was a good degree of tolerance. I would leave Nadia and Alan Gardens bandb at 9:30 prompt. I told Nadia the night before, and as such she had a delicious breakfast ready for me at 8:30.
The breakfast formula was pretty much the same, which is no bad thing when it is delicious. Only today her variation on the eggs was a pleasant surprise. A split english muffin, each half with warm ham and a poached egg, and then cheese melted over the top in the oven. Yummy. All the other favourites were there - the fruit, the porridge with Apples etc.
I was out the door at 9:40,with just enough time to catch the 10:00 bus. I walked down to the Delta Chelsea Hotel, and it arrived. I got on board, and then we started conversing about where we were headed and at what time. I said my flight was at 12:00, and the driver said to me "Really? That's not good - That's not good at all". In Englad, that would have been all they said and did, and I was expecting the same here. I got comfy in my seat as the driver explained we would be arriving at 11:10 at the airport. Maybe I hadn't told him my flight was domestic, and I would be fine. But then he sat up and said to me "You know what, you could get in a taxi right here and take it to the Waterfront Harbour Castle and be there in 10 minutes. There, you can catch the bus ahead of this one and get an extra half hour at least at the airport. I'll let him know you are coming".
Great - it could almost sound like a taxi chase across town. I got in a taxi and we headed that way. And actually it was a leisurely ride. We arrived at the hotel for the same time that the bus was either arriving, or he had come back to get me judging by the awkward parking.
I had a $20, and the fare was $9.25. I gave the driver the money and asked him for change. I got back a $10 - what about my $0.75? Well, you are in Canada - you tip people here for tripping you up on the stairs into a railway station (this did not happen, by the way). And if you don't tip them, they will tip themselves with your own money - like the taxi driver.
I got my bags, and the bus driver emerged, all mexican and that. I was expecting to be called a gringo.
"Are you the taxi man? Which terminal?" Abrupt. We did the pleasantries, and then we headed out. The last driver was right. I was at the airport in 20 minutes, as opposed to taking the sightseeing tour of every hotel within a few miles of the CNT.
I got to the airport, and the usual WTF occurred with the automatic checkin desks. It was my luck that I managed to find the only free machine that was missing an option for both Passport scanning, and confirmation number check-in. I got hot standing there wondering WTF at the machine, and there were only 2 attendants for nearly 30 machines. It didn't help that most of the people at the machines were old, and thus needed almost every button pressing for them. Well, to be honest standing at my machine I was confused as well.
But luck was on my side, and just as I was about to punch my own head open a machine became free next to an attendant that also became free. She explained to me that all I had to do was find the 6 letter confirmation number (yes - a number made of letters; so that's helpful then) and punch it into this amply stocked list of menu items, on the one that says "Confirmation number" under the checkin options.
Finally through, I went and bought another cruller (my second real one since being in Canada - I still don't see how The third Cruller I had at KK in Heathrow can be allowed to be called a Cruller under international law).
Take off and landing were fine. On the plane, I watched Zombieland, which was amusing, and another movie that I cannot remember. I also bought some food on the plane - domestic flights don't have complimentary food. A callifornia chicken wrap, and a couple of cookies. It was OK.
On arrival in Vancouver, I bought some transit passes - a book of 10 transfer tickets with a 2 hour transfer window, and a single day pass. I don't think I acted with my brain in gear later in the day when I accidentally validated my day pass for the half hour journey to the bandb with absolutely no intention of going out again during the evening. Oh well.
So going one step back. I took the Canada line - the cleanest newest train I've ever been on - to Waterfront Station. At Waterfront, god himself would get lost if he exists. Fancy that - the benchmark station into which all people arrive not having ANY transit desk to assist passengers. I orbited a pot plant and a sign containing irrelevant information more times than the Earth has circled the sun trying to see if I had just missed the help desk. I think I entered and exited the station entrance 6 times. Eventually, I phoned the guy at the bandb again and got his wife. She was very helpful, and explained that I should go to Pender street. I likened the scene out the front of the station to a scene in Zombieland, and thought this was a good suggestion. I was then to catch the 22 bus signposted Mcdonald to the Maple Street stop and wealk up.
Great - where's Pender street? I asked a police lady, with the opening Gambit "Do you know where Pender Street is? I would have thought with a big station like this they'd have a transit desk where I could ask this question". She pulled a face that said "Yeah - you and me buddy". Apparently she was a cop from somewhere else and wasn't familliar with Vancouver - fries with that sir?
Eventually, the cluster-f**k out the front of the station was behind me and I made my bus, and got to the Chocolate Lily.
I absolutely love this place! Rob came out to greet me and take me to the room. It's a nice suite, with a patio for dry days (it's raining) and very nice decor. Comfy furniture - chaise longue, ash leather seat that boings when you sit on it, a small kitcheny thing, a nice bed and a gorgeous slate tiled bathroom. That's just the start.
There was a basket of baked goodies all wrapped up nicely in a square bowl in a cloth, a plate of fruit with what appear to be chocolates bearing their logo, hand made in town; a bottle of wine in a complimentary Vancouver 2010 mens grooming bag (no other things inside); a box of chocolate cookies of all descriptions. In the fridge, a plate with smoked salmon and cream cheese (I see a bagel explosion coming); and two tins of mango puree and a couple of yoghurts.
All of this complimentary. And exploring further there is some nice tea of all descriptions, and there are two types of coffee. Milk is a freesh carton bought today that has not yet been opened.
All of their information is on styled notepaper. There's a flashlight outside on a nail just in case I need to use it if I forget to leave the patio loght on. The slate floor in the bathroom is heated.
This place is amazing.
Their house is a very nice wooden house, with shingle cladding or whatever you'd call it. I went upstairs and talked to Rob about vancouver. He told me lots, and I could have absorbed more of it if I wasn't so tired.
I went downstairs and ate one of the baked scones with the butter in a little dish at the bottom of the basket. I then had the smoked salmon and cheese on the poppy seed bagel, toasted. I had a couple of their teas - an organic rooibos, and a twinings english breakfast.
I then fell asleep for 3 hours on the chaise longue. I needed that. I've got a long, and potentially rainy day, ahead of me tomorrow.
Oh poo. I wanted to catch liz just before she goes to work. I finally got this tablet working this - which I will do now.
The breakfast formula was pretty much the same, which is no bad thing when it is delicious. Only today her variation on the eggs was a pleasant surprise. A split english muffin, each half with warm ham and a poached egg, and then cheese melted over the top in the oven. Yummy. All the other favourites were there - the fruit, the porridge with Apples etc.
I was out the door at 9:40,with just enough time to catch the 10:00 bus. I walked down to the Delta Chelsea Hotel, and it arrived. I got on board, and then we started conversing about where we were headed and at what time. I said my flight was at 12:00, and the driver said to me "Really? That's not good - That's not good at all". In Englad, that would have been all they said and did, and I was expecting the same here. I got comfy in my seat as the driver explained we would be arriving at 11:10 at the airport. Maybe I hadn't told him my flight was domestic, and I would be fine. But then he sat up and said to me "You know what, you could get in a taxi right here and take it to the Waterfront Harbour Castle and be there in 10 minutes. There, you can catch the bus ahead of this one and get an extra half hour at least at the airport. I'll let him know you are coming".
Great - it could almost sound like a taxi chase across town. I got in a taxi and we headed that way. And actually it was a leisurely ride. We arrived at the hotel for the same time that the bus was either arriving, or he had come back to get me judging by the awkward parking.
I had a $20, and the fare was $9.25. I gave the driver the money and asked him for change. I got back a $10 - what about my $0.75? Well, you are in Canada - you tip people here for tripping you up on the stairs into a railway station (this did not happen, by the way). And if you don't tip them, they will tip themselves with your own money - like the taxi driver.
I got my bags, and the bus driver emerged, all mexican and that. I was expecting to be called a gringo.
"Are you the taxi man? Which terminal?" Abrupt. We did the pleasantries, and then we headed out. The last driver was right. I was at the airport in 20 minutes, as opposed to taking the sightseeing tour of every hotel within a few miles of the CNT.
I got to the airport, and the usual WTF occurred with the automatic checkin desks. It was my luck that I managed to find the only free machine that was missing an option for both Passport scanning, and confirmation number check-in. I got hot standing there wondering WTF at the machine, and there were only 2 attendants for nearly 30 machines. It didn't help that most of the people at the machines were old, and thus needed almost every button pressing for them. Well, to be honest standing at my machine I was confused as well.
But luck was on my side, and just as I was about to punch my own head open a machine became free next to an attendant that also became free. She explained to me that all I had to do was find the 6 letter confirmation number (yes - a number made of letters; so that's helpful then) and punch it into this amply stocked list of menu items, on the one that says "Confirmation number" under the checkin options.
Finally through, I went and bought another cruller (my second real one since being in Canada - I still don't see how The third Cruller I had at KK in Heathrow can be allowed to be called a Cruller under international law).
Take off and landing were fine. On the plane, I watched Zombieland, which was amusing, and another movie that I cannot remember. I also bought some food on the plane - domestic flights don't have complimentary food. A callifornia chicken wrap, and a couple of cookies. It was OK.
On arrival in Vancouver, I bought some transit passes - a book of 10 transfer tickets with a 2 hour transfer window, and a single day pass. I don't think I acted with my brain in gear later in the day when I accidentally validated my day pass for the half hour journey to the bandb with absolutely no intention of going out again during the evening. Oh well.
So going one step back. I took the Canada line - the cleanest newest train I've ever been on - to Waterfront Station. At Waterfront, god himself would get lost if he exists. Fancy that - the benchmark station into which all people arrive not having ANY transit desk to assist passengers. I orbited a pot plant and a sign containing irrelevant information more times than the Earth has circled the sun trying to see if I had just missed the help desk. I think I entered and exited the station entrance 6 times. Eventually, I phoned the guy at the bandb again and got his wife. She was very helpful, and explained that I should go to Pender street. I likened the scene out the front of the station to a scene in Zombieland, and thought this was a good suggestion. I was then to catch the 22 bus signposted Mcdonald to the Maple Street stop and wealk up.
Great - where's Pender street? I asked a police lady, with the opening Gambit "Do you know where Pender Street is? I would have thought with a big station like this they'd have a transit desk where I could ask this question". She pulled a face that said "Yeah - you and me buddy". Apparently she was a cop from somewhere else and wasn't familliar with Vancouver - fries with that sir?
Eventually, the cluster-f**k out the front of the station was behind me and I made my bus, and got to the Chocolate Lily.
I absolutely love this place! Rob came out to greet me and take me to the room. It's a nice suite, with a patio for dry days (it's raining) and very nice decor. Comfy furniture - chaise longue, ash leather seat that boings when you sit on it, a small kitcheny thing, a nice bed and a gorgeous slate tiled bathroom. That's just the start.
There was a basket of baked goodies all wrapped up nicely in a square bowl in a cloth, a plate of fruit with what appear to be chocolates bearing their logo, hand made in town; a bottle of wine in a complimentary Vancouver 2010 mens grooming bag (no other things inside); a box of chocolate cookies of all descriptions. In the fridge, a plate with smoked salmon and cream cheese (I see a bagel explosion coming); and two tins of mango puree and a couple of yoghurts.
All of this complimentary. And exploring further there is some nice tea of all descriptions, and there are two types of coffee. Milk is a freesh carton bought today that has not yet been opened.
All of their information is on styled notepaper. There's a flashlight outside on a nail just in case I need to use it if I forget to leave the patio loght on. The slate floor in the bathroom is heated.
This place is amazing.
Their house is a very nice wooden house, with shingle cladding or whatever you'd call it. I went upstairs and talked to Rob about vancouver. He told me lots, and I could have absorbed more of it if I wasn't so tired.
I went downstairs and ate one of the baked scones with the butter in a little dish at the bottom of the basket. I then had the smoked salmon and cheese on the poppy seed bagel, toasted. I had a couple of their teas - an organic rooibos, and a twinings english breakfast.
I then fell asleep for 3 hours on the chaise longue. I needed that. I've got a long, and potentially rainy day, ahead of me tomorrow.
Oh poo. I wanted to catch liz just before she goes to work. I finally got this tablet working with their wireless, but either missed Liz on google talk or she didn't log in. No matter - I'll email her after finishing this - which I will do now.
I planned my day today to what I thought was a good degree of tolerance. I would leave Nadia and Alan Gardens bandb at 9:30 prompt. I told Nadia the night before, and as such she had a delicious breakfast ready for me at 8:30.
The breakfast formula was pretty much the same, which is no bad thing when it is delicious. Only today her variation on the eggs was a pleasant surprise. A split english muffin, each half with warm ham and a poached egg, and then cheese melted over the top in the oven. Yummy. All the other favourites were there - the fruit, the porridge with Apples etc.
I was out the door at 9:40,with just enough time to catch the 10:00 bus. I walked down to the Delta Chelsea Hotel, and it arrived. I got on board, and then we started conversing about where we were headed and at what time. I said my flight was at 12:00, and the driver said to me "Really? That's not good - That's not good at all". In Englad, that would have been all they said and did, and I was expecting the same here. I got comfy in my seat as the driver explained we would be arriving at 11:10 at the airport. Maybe I hadn't told him my flight was domestic, and I would be fine. But then he sat up and said to me "You know what, you could get in a taxi right here and take it to the Waterfront Harbour Castle and be there in 10 minutes. There, you can catch the bus ahead of this one and get an extra half hour at least at the airport. I'll let him know you are coming".
Great - it could almost sound like a taxi chase across town. I got in a taxi and we headed that way. And actually it was a leisurely ride. We arrived at the hotel for the same time that the bus was either arriving, or he had come back to get me judging by the awkward parking.
I had a $20, and the fare was $9.25. I gave the driver the money and asked him for change. I got back a $10 - what about my $0.75? Well, you are in Canada - you tip people here for tripping you up on the stairs into a railway station (this did not happen, by the way). And if you don't tip them, they will tip themselves with your own money - like the taxi driver.
I got my bags, and the bus driver emerged, all mexican and that. I was expecting to be called a gringo.
"Are you the taxi man? Which terminal?" Abrupt. We did the pleasantries, and then we headed out. The last driver was right. I was at the airport in 20 minutes, as opposed to taking the sightseeing tour of every hotel within a few miles of the CNT.
I got to the airport, and the usual WTF occurred with the automatic checkin desks. It was my luck that I managed to find the only free machine that was missing an option for both Passport scanning, and confirmation number check-in. I got hot standing there wondering WTF at the machine, and there were only 2 attendants for nearly 30 machines. It didn't help that most of the people at the machines were old, and thus needed almost every button pressing for them. Well, to be honest standing at my machine I was confused as well.
But luck was on my side, and just as I was about to punch my own head open a machine became free next to an attendant that also became free. She explained to me that all I had to do was find the 6 letter confirmation number (yes - a number made of letters; so that's helpful then) and punch it into this amply stocked list of menu items, on the one that says "Confirmation number" under the checkin options.
Finally through, I went and bought another cruller (my second real one since being in Canada - I still don't see how The third Cruller I had at KK in Heathrow can be allowed to be called a Cruller under international law).
Take off and landing were fine. On the plane, I watched Zombieland, which was amusing, and another movie that I cannot remember. I also bought some food on the plane - domestic flights don't have complimentary food. A callifornia chicken wrap, and a couple of cookies. It was OK.
On arrival in Vancouver, I bought some transit passes - a book of 10 transfer tickets with a 2 hour transfer window, and a single day pass. I don't think I acted with my brain in gear later in the day when I accidentally validated my day pass for the half hour journey to the bandb with absolutely no intention of going out again during the evening. Oh well.
So going one step back. I took the Canada line - the cleanest newest train I've ever been on - to Waterfront Station. At Waterfront, god himself would get lost if he exists. Fancy that - the benchmark station into which all people arrive not having ANY transit desk to assist passengers. I orbited a pot plant and a sign containing irrelevant information more times than the Earth has circled the sun trying to see if I had just missed the help desk. I think I entered and exited the station entrance 6 times. Eventually, I phoned the guy at the bandb again and got his wife. She was very helpful, and explained that I should go to Pender street. I likened the scene out the front of the station to a scene in Zombieland, and thought this was a good suggestion. I was then to catch the 22 bus signposted Mcdonald to the Maple Street stop and wealk up.
Great - where's Pender street? I asked a police lady, with the opening Gambit "Do you know where Pender Street is? I would have thought with a big station like this they'd have a transit desk where I could ask this question". She pulled a face that said "Yeah - you and me buddy". Apparently she was a cop from somewhere else and wasn't familliar with Vancouver - fries with that sir?
Eventually, the cluster-f**k out the front of the station was behind me and I made my bus, and got to the Chocolate Lily.
I absolutely love this place! Rob came out to greet me and take me to the room. It's a nice suite, with a patio for dry days (it's raining) and very nice decor. Comfy furniture - chaise longue, ash leather seat that boings when you sit on it, a small kitcheny thing, a nice bed and a gorgeous slate tiled bathroom. That's just the start.
There was a basket of baked goodies all wrapped up nicely in a square bowl in a cloth, a plate of fruit with what appear to be chocolates bearing their logo, hand made in town; a bottle of wine in a complimentary Vancouver 2010 mens grooming bag (no other things inside); a box of chocolate cookies of all descriptions. In the fridge, a plate with smoked salmon and cream cheese (I see a bagel explosion coming); and two tins of mango puree and a couple of yoghurts.
All of this complimentary. And exploring further there is some nice tea of all descriptions, and there are two types of coffee. Milk is a freesh carton bought today that has not yet been opened.
All of their information is on styled notepaper. There's a flashlight outside on a nail just in case I need to use it if I forget to leave the patio loght on. The slate floor in the bathroom is heated.
This place is amazing.
Their house is a very nice wooden house, with shingle cladding or whatever you'd call it. I went upstairs and talked to Rob about vancouver. He told me lots, and I could have absorbed more of it if I wasn't so tired.
I went downstairs and ate one of the baked scones with the butter in a little dish at the bottom of the basket. I then had the smoked salmon and cheese on the poppy seed bagel, toasted. I had a couple of their teas - an organic rooibos, and a twinings english breakfast.
I then fell asleep for 3 hours on the chaise longue. I needed that. I've got a long, and potentially rainy day, ahead of me tomorrow.
Oh poo. I wanted to catch liz just before she goes to work. I finally got this tablet working this - which I will do now.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Chasing buses in taxis, and getting thoroughly lost
First of all I'll just say I'm pissed off with this computer. I resolved to type all blog posts into the notes application and then paster them into blogger, because I thought the web pages were too flakey on here. I just poured my heart and soul into a post about my trip through toronto, and my subsequent arrival here at the chocolate lily. But problems with pasting between applicatiions and an inexplicable inability of the notesd application to deal with test files bigger than my fingernailconspire to make using this tablet a really bad experience. I spent about 45 minutes crafting that post. It was good. And then suddenly, while trying to do the infernal cut and paste, the application just shut. No explanation. It just took my hard work with it. This blows chunks. I'm not rewriting that post - it is now 00:40 in the morning, and I need some sleep. Instead, I will mourn that post. R.I.P.
I should have brought a laptop, but that's what you get for doing compouting on the cheap.
Maybe tomorrow when I feel less inclined to go Postal on what laughably passes for a computer, I might look at rewriting the post.
I should have brought a laptop, but that's what you get for doing compouting on the cheap.
Maybe tomorrow when I feel less inclined to go Postal on what laughably passes for a computer, I might look at rewriting the post.
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Shut up and .... show us your tweets
Determined not to allow today to be a total wash out (see last post for the definition of a wash out), I decided to make my way across town to the Second City theater, which is basically a comedy club. The journey was easy, and with a quick walk from the subway station, I was there early even though I was worried about leeeeaving at 7pm for an 8pm show.
The place is quite small and quaint in a typically comedy club way. I don't know what it is, but the idea of a comedy club comes with its own aura, and this place had that. John Candy and others used to walk the boards in Toronto, though I didn't spend enough time figuring out if he did so at Second City. It had that kind of feel, though.
The seating was scrunched in tight around some small tables, and hosts/hhostesses mill the tables and get you drinks etc. You are meant to pay the girls at the end for anything that you get, and I had a long island iced tea which was very lemony. Armed with rennies though, I was fine.
Then the tweeting started.
I should explain that they didn't really do very much twittering at all. They were using it as an initial vehicle for a cheesy song about how we are all connected to eachother with our mobile phones. They then took us through various satirical sketches.
They did everything from a meteorite impacting Tehran - "Should we tell them, or should we send the information to them by normal mail"; "Can't you see how many problems a meteorite impact on the middle east would solve in one go".
They had other sketches that were just silly in the extreme. They had one where two of the cast were pretending to be 70s cops, and the brilliant indian actor in their troupe called Anand was playing this ridiculous jittery, dancing thug with a mullet the size of Cher.... The two cops would face off in increasingly in your face poses, in a test of manhood - rooky versus old timer. It indeed almost became a test of their real manhood as the grapples and facing became ever closer as they decide how to defeat this quirky bandit... Eventually, one of the actors starts giggling, and eventually - once they compose themselves, it turns out that it is the gun that causes people to act in this way. When the cop asks the bandit for the gun - in an accidental stroke of genius -= he too starts dancing around, waving the gun at the bystanders. It was all done in such a silly way, yet in a way that was deliberately funny...
They also had a sketch - introduced by Anand - of "white people acting racial stereotypes". They went from one nationality, each introducing the next as the neighbours that saw them moving into a new neighbourhood, and the people on stage wondering what the established residents thought of them. Each time, the established residents were a different reacial group, but the descriptive element was always adjusted so that the sterotype applied to the new residents was always told by the established residents in a slightly different way. The female actresses depiction of a chinese woman walking into her kitchen was a spot on stereotype
I could go on. It was a brilliantly observed piece. Their depiction of computer technical call center people in India was lethal, in both directions. They had pieces on relationships, and on normal behaviours of people, like moving seats to find extra space away from people you are sat next to on the subway when a seat elsewhere becomes available.
It was a really good show, and a good night out. It didn't matter that I was on my own - everyone was creased with laughter.
One of the guys looks identical - almost - to the british comedian David Mitchell from That Mitchell and Webb look.
I'd go again. I tried getting a souvenire - a little badge with an angry twitter bird - but they had sold out. Maybe I can get one online.
If I was rating this, I'd give it 8/10.
The place is quite small and quaint in a typically comedy club way. I don't know what it is, but the idea of a comedy club comes with its own aura, and this place had that. John Candy and others used to walk the boards in Toronto, though I didn't spend enough time figuring out if he did so at Second City. It had that kind of feel, though.
The seating was scrunched in tight around some small tables, and hosts/hhostesses mill the tables and get you drinks etc. You are meant to pay the girls at the end for anything that you get, and I had a long island iced tea which was very lemony. Armed with rennies though, I was fine.
Then the tweeting started.
I should explain that they didn't really do very much twittering at all. They were using it as an initial vehicle for a cheesy song about how we are all connected to eachother with our mobile phones. They then took us through various satirical sketches.
They did everything from a meteorite impacting Tehran - "Should we tell them, or should we send the information to them by normal mail"; "Can't you see how many problems a meteorite impact on the middle east would solve in one go".
They had other sketches that were just silly in the extreme. They had one where two of the cast were pretending to be 70s cops, and the brilliant indian actor in their troupe called Anand was playing this ridiculous jittery, dancing thug with a mullet the size of Cher.... The two cops would face off in increasingly in your face poses, in a test of manhood - rooky versus old timer. It indeed almost became a test of their real manhood as the grapples and facing became ever closer as they decide how to defeat this quirky bandit... Eventually, one of the actors starts giggling, and eventually - once they compose themselves, it turns out that it is the gun that causes people to act in this way. When the cop asks the bandit for the gun - in an accidental stroke of genius -= he too starts dancing around, waving the gun at the bystanders. It was all done in such a silly way, yet in a way that was deliberately funny...
They also had a sketch - introduced by Anand - of "white people acting racial stereotypes". They went from one nationality, each introducing the next as the neighbours that saw them moving into a new neighbourhood, and the people on stage wondering what the established residents thought of them. Each time, the established residents were a different reacial group, but the descriptive element was always adjusted so that the sterotype applied to the new residents was always told by the established residents in a slightly different way. The female actresses depiction of a chinese woman walking into her kitchen was a spot on stereotype
I could go on. It was a brilliantly observed piece. Their depiction of computer technical call center people in India was lethal, in both directions. They had pieces on relationships, and on normal behaviours of people, like moving seats to find extra space away from people you are sat next to on the subway when a seat elsewhere becomes available.
It was a really good show, and a good night out. It didn't matter that I was on my own - everyone was creased with laughter.
One of the guys looks identical - almost - to the british comedian David Mitchell from That Mitchell and Webb look.
I'd go again. I tried getting a souvenire - a little badge with an angry twitter bird - but they had sold out. Maybe I can get one online.
If I was rating this, I'd give it 8/10.
The day I watched people
Today. Well, what can I say about today. Not great, actually. It all started after finishing breakfast. I started getting ready and put on my boots. The boot was cold. The boot was wet. The boot was smelly. Shit.
Yesterdays outing in the freshly fallen snow returning from the CNT was obviously too much for them. The snow had obviously melted on the boots as they sat overnight.
So, in panic mode I tried toilet paper to dry them, I tried taking the footbeds out and drying them with paper separate to the boots. I tried using the hair dryer, which cut out with heatstroke. This proved to be the better option, but I had to wait minuted in between minute long uses before I could use it again. Blah Blah Blah.
Eventually they were dry enough to walk out in.
So my intention - mission - for the day upon leaving the bandb was to go to Casa Loma, a huge castle north of where I'm staying. It didn't look hard, but I chose to take the supposedly easy route, and ind get a ticket on the hop-on-hop-off bus. The schedule looked easy enough - catch it just across from Allan Gardens at the hotel. There are busses every hour, so it should be a cinch.
You'd think.
I went around to the stop, and noticed that there was information about a shoulder season in the brochure. I actually found that Feb was in the shoulder season, and that I hshould go to some other page. It said the next bus would be at 2pm. It was now 12:30, and my boots were wet so I decided to walk down to Yonge street and then along to the Eaton Center to get some sealant for my boots. I pounded the mall, and founf very little. I then spent time looking at the map, and had to go outside the mall to get to Canadian Tire where I was sure they'd have sealant. Thank god they did. I then headed back into the street, and made my way towards the hotel again to pick up the bus for the trip around the city.
When I got to the stop, I noticed that it was about 13:55. I then got the timetable out again, and noticed that the tour actually started from stop 1 at 2pm. I was standing at stop 13, where the bus doesn't get here until 2:47 pm. What was I to do?
I decided to go into the Allan gardens conservatory, a great glass house.
The planting inside was intelligent, beautifully laid out, interesting and inspiring. They had many tropical plants, of all descriptions. This was somewhere that really loved what it did, and there were no weeds, there were many fresh plantings, there were exotic cacti, there were shade loving plants... it was endless, and beautiful.
I was really glad to go in there. I chatted to one of the gardeners, and everyone here seems to ask everyone else where they are from. I told him I was from the UK, and he started talking about plants. I'd originally started the conversation askling him how old this enormous bottle brush plant was, and he had no idea - and didn't try to guess. He said it grows really well, and he just cuts it back. A nice place, which I believe is frequented occassionally by street people looking for warmth (for it is heated by boilers).
So, the time for my bus came around. I headed outside, and to my amazement the bus was passing my stop, and wouldn't be around again until 4pm. Well, Casa Loma doesn't admit people after 4pm. Poo, but there must be a way to get there.
So I walked down to college station, and bought a day pass for $10. I then went to the Northbound platform, because Casa Loma is north, right? Childsplay.
Wrong! look at the map you dunderhead. The transit system I happen to be on is U-shaped. I am on the eastern arm going north, and Casa Loma is on the western arm ggoing north. In order to get to a station near Casa Loma, I would need to either ride the majority of the transit system south, and back up the other side to Dupont St., or I would have to negotiate the streetcars and travel west, then find the station to connect onto the last part of the western arm of the subway.
So far, I'm still heading north on the Subway, having realised this. I went quite far north, and decided about 5 stops in to get out and take the subway southbound again to get back to where I at least had started. By the time that happened, it was about 3:30 pm, and I had very little time now left to see Casa Loma.
I decided that, instead, I would go into a Diner called the Daybreak, and get some food. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it would be a good way to see what I should do.
Whgile I sat there, I watched out the big windows onto the street. So many different people from all over the world, so many different behaviours. I also thought about the smells of the street, and how the huge size of everything also makes everything really hard to maintain, and hard to keep full with people using the spaces. There is an odd juxtaposition of expensive accommodation, next to empty 40 story buildings. There are about 3 different chains that specialise in Pita breads alone. Everywhere looks seedy.
So as I ate at the Daybreak, I came to the conclusion that my day hadn't been wasted. I looked across at the Maple Leaf Gardens, once home to hockey games and a national institution, in its decrepit state thinking about how it was an education just to walk around Toronto and soak up the smells, the excentricities, the vibe. I had noticed so much, and it is poles apart from life in the UK. I still don't know if I like it, because it is overwhelmingly large. Even backstreets have skyscrapers.
I payed my bill, and left concluding that I should go back to my room and - I'm about to use a horrendous cliche - "regroup".
So tonight I am going to go to Second City thater and checkout the show about tweets.
I will report back on that when I return.
My flight is tomorrow at 12:00 noon, which is earlier than I expected. I was hoping for it to be at 2pm so I could get in some sights or some photography. I will now have to pack my bag tonight and make sure I have everything together for thhhe journey I need to make tomorrow.
I know that Kathrynn will be printing out these pages for mum, so I'd just like to say Hi to Mum! I hhope you enjoy reading these pages.
Yesterdays outing in the freshly fallen snow returning from the CNT was obviously too much for them. The snow had obviously melted on the boots as they sat overnight.
So, in panic mode I tried toilet paper to dry them, I tried taking the footbeds out and drying them with paper separate to the boots. I tried using the hair dryer, which cut out with heatstroke. This proved to be the better option, but I had to wait minuted in between minute long uses before I could use it again. Blah Blah Blah.
Eventually they were dry enough to walk out in.
So my intention - mission - for the day upon leaving the bandb was to go to Casa Loma, a huge castle north of where I'm staying. It didn't look hard, but I chose to take the supposedly easy route, and ind get a ticket on the hop-on-hop-off bus. The schedule looked easy enough - catch it just across from Allan Gardens at the hotel. There are busses every hour, so it should be a cinch.
You'd think.
I went around to the stop, and noticed that there was information about a shoulder season in the brochure. I actually found that Feb was in the shoulder season, and that I hshould go to some other page. It said the next bus would be at 2pm. It was now 12:30, and my boots were wet so I decided to walk down to Yonge street and then along to the Eaton Center to get some sealant for my boots. I pounded the mall, and founf very little. I then spent time looking at the map, and had to go outside the mall to get to Canadian Tire where I was sure they'd have sealant. Thank god they did. I then headed back into the street, and made my way towards the hotel again to pick up the bus for the trip around the city.
When I got to the stop, I noticed that it was about 13:55. I then got the timetable out again, and noticed that the tour actually started from stop 1 at 2pm. I was standing at stop 13, where the bus doesn't get here until 2:47 pm. What was I to do?
I decided to go into the Allan gardens conservatory, a great glass house.
The planting inside was intelligent, beautifully laid out, interesting and inspiring. They had many tropical plants, of all descriptions. This was somewhere that really loved what it did, and there were no weeds, there were many fresh plantings, there were exotic cacti, there were shade loving plants... it was endless, and beautiful.
I was really glad to go in there. I chatted to one of the gardeners, and everyone here seems to ask everyone else where they are from. I told him I was from the UK, and he started talking about plants. I'd originally started the conversation askling him how old this enormous bottle brush plant was, and he had no idea - and didn't try to guess. He said it grows really well, and he just cuts it back. A nice place, which I believe is frequented occassionally by street people looking for warmth (for it is heated by boilers).
So, the time for my bus came around. I headed outside, and to my amazement the bus was passing my stop, and wouldn't be around again until 4pm. Well, Casa Loma doesn't admit people after 4pm. Poo, but there must be a way to get there.
So I walked down to college station, and bought a day pass for $10. I then went to the Northbound platform, because Casa Loma is north, right? Childsplay.
Wrong! look at the map you dunderhead. The transit system I happen to be on is U-shaped. I am on the eastern arm going north, and Casa Loma is on the western arm ggoing north. In order to get to a station near Casa Loma, I would need to either ride the majority of the transit system south, and back up the other side to Dupont St., or I would have to negotiate the streetcars and travel west, then find the station to connect onto the last part of the western arm of the subway.
So far, I'm still heading north on the Subway, having realised this. I went quite far north, and decided about 5 stops in to get out and take the subway southbound again to get back to where I at least had started. By the time that happened, it was about 3:30 pm, and I had very little time now left to see Casa Loma.
I decided that, instead, I would go into a Diner called the Daybreak, and get some food. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it would be a good way to see what I should do.
Whgile I sat there, I watched out the big windows onto the street. So many different people from all over the world, so many different behaviours. I also thought about the smells of the street, and how the huge size of everything also makes everything really hard to maintain, and hard to keep full with people using the spaces. There is an odd juxtaposition of expensive accommodation, next to empty 40 story buildings. There are about 3 different chains that specialise in Pita breads alone. Everywhere looks seedy.
So as I ate at the Daybreak, I came to the conclusion that my day hadn't been wasted. I looked across at the Maple Leaf Gardens, once home to hockey games and a national institution, in its decrepit state thinking about how it was an education just to walk around Toronto and soak up the smells, the excentricities, the vibe. I had noticed so much, and it is poles apart from life in the UK. I still don't know if I like it, because it is overwhelmingly large. Even backstreets have skyscrapers.
I payed my bill, and left concluding that I should go back to my room and - I'm about to use a horrendous cliche - "regroup".
So tonight I am going to go to Second City thater and checkout the show about tweets.
I will report back on that when I return.
My flight is tomorrow at 12:00 noon, which is earlier than I expected. I was hoping for it to be at 2pm so I could get in some sights or some photography. I will now have to pack my bag tonight and make sure I have everything together for thhhe journey I need to make tomorrow.
I know that Kathrynn will be printing out these pages for mum, so I'd just like to say Hi to Mum! I hhope you enjoy reading these pages.
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Mousse dribble
Today was an awesome day. Yuck - I've been in Cannnnnnnada for one day, and I'm using the word awesome.
I got up late, and had breakfast. It was really nice, and consisted of fresh fruit (melon balls, lychee, and banana); then there was a bowl of porridge cooked with chunks of fresh apple, which I didn't even add sugar to uncharacteristically. A pot of earl grey accompanied everything, and then arrived a plate of yummy eggs, ham and toast. This was all washed down with a glass of freezing cold orange juice.
I then talked to Nadia about the day ahead, and she recommended trying out the museum. It took about 25 minutes of fast paced walking to get there through some pretty chunky cityscapes.
The one thing I have worked out along the way is how to read the lights at crossings. You basically look at the crossing for the road at right angles to your own, and when the cross light there expires, you are good to go. It helps to try to fit in in a big city like this, so you don't stand out and become a target for any pick pockets or vultures.
So once I arrived, I was amazed by the architecture of the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM for short). The building is like a series of cubes that have been struck into the ground at their corners, each intersecting. One fact though is that the cubes have no right angles.
It took me a while to get my bearings - everything in Toronto is so big, and either the signs just look really small or there aren't any. I didn't trruly know where to go, but I just wandered and eventually found a map.
The exhibits are incredible. It's like they've got the ultimate example of each type of exhibit. They had this trilobyte colony entombed in fossil form, dozens of trilobytes cast in stone atop eachother; they had one of the last two freight canoes to come from the time when the natives used them for transporting trade - the others were burned in a fire. This canoe is breathtaking in size, yet light enough for two men to portage.
They have one of the most complete sets of complete dinosaur skeletons. I took a picture of their TREX, and they had terror birds and giant scorpions; pterodactyls and gian tortoise.
I went into their cafe afterwards, and they only really had frappuccino in a jar out of the fridge for real coffee. It was ok.
After finishing up in the museum, I headed into the TTC subway, and payed 3 dollars to go to the union station, where the CN Tower is. I've said it before and I'll say it again - nothing is small in toronto. The station was enormous, and I walked around completely lost (I'd have liked to be a fly on the wall). I eventually found someone, and if you go to "Union station, you need to find the skywalk.
The skywalk is a surreal experience. It is basically empty at this time of year once you get beyond the edge of union station - or maybe it just appears that way because everything is so big. Anyway, as I got further and further out towards where the CN tower was, the number of people tailed off. Eventually, I came outside and found the CN tower - you can basically walk to the base of it. I tried to look directly up at the top of the tower, and almost couldn't. It is so bloody enormous. Have I mentioned that nothing is small in toronto?
After taking some pictures, I then headed inside and found a girl to talk to. I explained that I had a booking at 7pm,and what should I do. She explained that I couldn't go up until half an hour before because the cost of the ascent was included in the meal. I therrefore had over two hours to kill. I decided to check out the Rogers Center, which was an enormous building that seemed as though it had been abandoned. Dead as a dodo. I amused myself with some geo tagged photography (one of a maple leaf spray painted into the sidewalk - a guy coming down the stairs must have thought I was weird).
I then went into the cafe/shop area around the base of the tower, and bought some coffee. They had free wifi, so I used it to upload 6 photos from my camera direct to picasa.
They also had awesome cappuccino.
Once the time came to go up, I made myself known to the guy on the desk. They were so courteous, and they had the most awesome security system. You entered an airblade compartment, and I presume it was analysing particcccccculates that fly off your clothes for explosives. Another part of me says that all the bluster is just for show. Whooooooooo knows but it sure was cool.
I entered the elevator with a bunch of other people, and it is actually backwards. The doors of the elevator face the outside. You zip up to the top in 55 seconds, and your ears pop along the way. It is breathtaking.
On arrival at the top, the winds make their way through the gap between the building and the elevator, and it was really cold that night.
The graceful restaurant rotates very slowly. The staff are attentive, and the food is exquisite. I had their gut-busting fixed price menu, where I had a humungous prawn amuse bouche; an amazing crab chowder; a humungous pork tenderloin, and a chocolate mousse to dribble over. I also had an apple juice. It came to a gut busting $93.
But the view out the window! you will never dine like this anywhere else in the world. It is unbeatable. You are sitting in a comfy chair eating food at a height higher than the nearest sky scraper. It takes 72 minutes to rotate fully. I was there longer than that, and was impressed when the CN Tower had its own cloud deck for a while. The lights of the city at night are amazing.
I then went and stood on the glass floor, listened to the tower designer on the video, and then went down to the bottom. Here, I could partially see the lightshow of the tower. It must be incredible to see out on a boat in the harbour. I took video of the lightshow.
I didn't feel sick after all that food though. What did make me feel sick was the poor signage - again - on the way back to the subway station. But it was so easy getting home.
Even though toronto is big, it is easy to get to where you need to go.
So I'm back in my room now gasping for a cup of tea, and I'll have to make do with water.
In all, though, an incredible day. If I had time to, I'd write about all I have seen.
I got up late, and had breakfast. It was really nice, and consisted of fresh fruit (melon balls, lychee, and banana); then there was a bowl of porridge cooked with chunks of fresh apple, which I didn't even add sugar to uncharacteristically. A pot of earl grey accompanied everything, and then arrived a plate of yummy eggs, ham and toast. This was all washed down with a glass of freezing cold orange juice.
I then talked to Nadia about the day ahead, and she recommended trying out the museum. It took about 25 minutes of fast paced walking to get there through some pretty chunky cityscapes.
The one thing I have worked out along the way is how to read the lights at crossings. You basically look at the crossing for the road at right angles to your own, and when the cross light there expires, you are good to go. It helps to try to fit in in a big city like this, so you don't stand out and become a target for any pick pockets or vultures.
So once I arrived, I was amazed by the architecture of the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM for short). The building is like a series of cubes that have been struck into the ground at their corners, each intersecting. One fact though is that the cubes have no right angles.
It took me a while to get my bearings - everything in Toronto is so big, and either the signs just look really small or there aren't any. I didn't trruly know where to go, but I just wandered and eventually found a map.
The exhibits are incredible. It's like they've got the ultimate example of each type of exhibit. They had this trilobyte colony entombed in fossil form, dozens of trilobytes cast in stone atop eachother; they had one of the last two freight canoes to come from the time when the natives used them for transporting trade - the others were burned in a fire. This canoe is breathtaking in size, yet light enough for two men to portage.
They have one of the most complete sets of complete dinosaur skeletons. I took a picture of their TREX, and they had terror birds and giant scorpions; pterodactyls and gian tortoise.
I went into their cafe afterwards, and they only really had frappuccino in a jar out of the fridge for real coffee. It was ok.
After finishing up in the museum, I headed into the TTC subway, and payed 3 dollars to go to the union station, where the CN Tower is. I've said it before and I'll say it again - nothing is small in toronto. The station was enormous, and I walked around completely lost (I'd have liked to be a fly on the wall). I eventually found someone, and if you go to "Union station, you need to find the skywalk.
The skywalk is a surreal experience. It is basically empty at this time of year once you get beyond the edge of union station - or maybe it just appears that way because everything is so big. Anyway, as I got further and further out towards where the CN tower was, the number of people tailed off. Eventually, I came outside and found the CN tower - you can basically walk to the base of it. I tried to look directly up at the top of the tower, and almost couldn't. It is so bloody enormous. Have I mentioned that nothing is small in toronto?
After taking some pictures, I then headed inside and found a girl to talk to. I explained that I had a booking at 7pm,and what should I do. She explained that I couldn't go up until half an hour before because the cost of the ascent was included in the meal. I therrefore had over two hours to kill. I decided to check out the Rogers Center, which was an enormous building that seemed as though it had been abandoned. Dead as a dodo. I amused myself with some geo tagged photography (one of a maple leaf spray painted into the sidewalk - a guy coming down the stairs must have thought I was weird).
I then went into the cafe/shop area around the base of the tower, and bought some coffee. They had free wifi, so I used it to upload 6 photos from my camera direct to picasa.
They also had awesome cappuccino.
Once the time came to go up, I made myself known to the guy on the desk. They were so courteous, and they had the most awesome security system. You entered an airblade compartment, and I presume it was analysing particcccccculates that fly off your clothes for explosives. Another part of me says that all the bluster is just for show. Whooooooooo knows but it sure was cool.
I entered the elevator with a bunch of other people, and it is actually backwards. The doors of the elevator face the outside. You zip up to the top in 55 seconds, and your ears pop along the way. It is breathtaking.
On arrival at the top, the winds make their way through the gap between the building and the elevator, and it was really cold that night.
The graceful restaurant rotates very slowly. The staff are attentive, and the food is exquisite. I had their gut-busting fixed price menu, where I had a humungous prawn amuse bouche; an amazing crab chowder; a humungous pork tenderloin, and a chocolate mousse to dribble over. I also had an apple juice. It came to a gut busting $93.
But the view out the window! you will never dine like this anywhere else in the world. It is unbeatable. You are sitting in a comfy chair eating food at a height higher than the nearest sky scraper. It takes 72 minutes to rotate fully. I was there longer than that, and was impressed when the CN Tower had its own cloud deck for a while. The lights of the city at night are amazing.
I then went and stood on the glass floor, listened to the tower designer on the video, and then went down to the bottom. Here, I could partially see the lightshow of the tower. It must be incredible to see out on a boat in the harbour. I took video of the lightshow.
I didn't feel sick after all that food though. What did make me feel sick was the poor signage - again - on the way back to the subway station. But it was so easy getting home.
Even though toronto is big, it is easy to get to where you need to go.
So I'm back in my room now gasping for a cup of tea, and I'll have to make do with water.
In all, though, an incredible day. If I had time to, I'd write about all I have seen.
A lesson learned....
never type a blogger post directly into the blogger window when using the nokia N770. I had nearly an A4 page written up of my impressions of my first day in toronto, and somehow the N770 just chucked the web page into a blackhole. Blogger itself sometimes saves posts automnatically, but clearly not that one.
So now, I'm going to type them into the test utility on the tablet first, then cut and paste the text into blogger once it is written up.
Because of all of this, I'm now out of time to write up the information I previously wrote again, because I'm going out now to the Royal Ontario Museum, and then the CNTower.
I'll leave another post tonight, with information lloist from the previous post, and todays happenings.
Bye for now!
So now, I'm going to type them into the test utility on the tablet first, then cut and paste the text into blogger once it is written up.
Because of all of this, I'm now out of time to write up the information I previously wrote again, because I'm going out now to the Royal Ontario Museum, and then the CNTower.
I'll leave another post tonight, with information lloist from the previous post, and todays happenings.
Bye for now!
Monday, 8 February 2010
Finally there
I got to Toronto, and everything went really well on the journey out. I am really glad that I decided to book into the Holiday Inn Hotel Ariel at Heathrow for the night before I flew to toronto. The hotel looks shocking in photos, but I was pleasantly surprised upon arrival. You can get to the outlying Hotels at Heathrow using the Hotel Hoppa bus, costing 4 pounds. I am, however, aware that the local service busses that depart heathrow are also obliged to offer free lifts to the perimeter road, where the hotels are situated. If I'd have done more research on the topic before leaving, I would have used this. You basically need to know which stop at heathrow, and which bus servicee to use in order to take advantage of it.
The bus just pulled in to the car park at the hotel, which couldn't be more convenient. Although one could always spend time optimising away all costs and taking the free route, there's a lot to be said for paying a little extra and taking something tailored to your needs. The Hoppa bus is definitely worth paying for in that respect. On going upstairs, the room I had (165) was small but well formed, and the shower was very powerful and hot. It had one of those jets that stings on your skin if you turn the dial ever more. Awesome, especially after a long bus journey with National express from cambridge.
I wasn't impressed when - upon getting an urge for something sweet - I ventured to ask the girl in the bar if they served chocolate. She had to ask me several times before she understood what I was asking - possibly down to a tired head, but I think it had more to do with English not being her first language. The answer to my question was clearly "no" and - it being a sunday - there were no shops open to substitute for an airport hotel that doesn't have the forethought to sell chocolate (or employ people that know what it is).
Next morning, I simply got up at 8:30 and - avoiding breakfast - reversed my travel process.
I got to heathrow and couldn't believe my eyes - a krispy kreme donut place. I bought what they claimed was a glazed cruller and a tea. I'm Canadian, and I've been to Tim Horton's so I know what a cruller tastes like. Friends - this is not a cruller. This is a cake that is twisted to look like one. Don't buy it! The tea was OK though. After I'd done the donut, I then went into security.
x
Oh, there's a story I forgot to tell about my shoes first. I decided to wash the footbeds in my shoes the night before trapping myself in a cylindrical tube with hundreds of other people. My shoes had started stinking, and in a measure to reduce this stink, I gambled on being able to wash all of the filthy stink out of the footbeds, and get them dry by the following morning. My theory was of course that I would get all the smell out, and they'd be bone dry and odoour-free for my trip (and take-off-able if I had some urge to dodge DVT).
There is a flip side to the scenario, a darker underbelly. One could wake up and - on inspection of the footbeds - think they are dry. You then insert them into your boot, put them on and - only hours later - trench foot is your friend! This flip-side also actually compounds the shoe smell you were trying to avoid, because a slight bit of dampness left behind in a hiking boot will make fools of us all.
So basically, my shoes stunk and my feet felt like they are rotting. I bought a can of shoe deodorant, and spent the whole plane journey of 8 hours wondering how long we'd have to live if I replaced the low oxygen of the cabin with the fruity-booty.
So back onto the security, I actually had to take off my boots (pre-deodorant) and put everything I was carrying into plastic trays. All the while, I was waiting for the body scanner. Where was it? Surely the scanner is just after the xray. We were all just flooding into it like cattle to slaughter, surely. But No! I never saw a single sign of the scanners. And I looked. Maybe they forgot to bring it out after smelling my boots... but the more likely explanation that I prefer is that there aren't any.
The flight was as smooth as a whistle (thhough I'm not sure what that expression means). The one memory I will have of it, though, is the comment of the lead cabin steward. In a sarcastic tone: "Well ladies and gentlemen - that was a fabulous landing". Maybe it was the fact that both wheels were flat, or maybe it was down to the way that the whole entire central overhead baggage compartments almost shook out of the ceiling. I did really enjoy the seat-back entertainment system. It was a pleasure being able to watch what movie I wanted, when I wanted to. I first watched the Invention of Lying (which I found likeable and funny, and the concept was certainly unique). Then I watched a couple of TV programmes - one about weird boats, and one about climbers on everest - and then I watched Frost/Nixon (which was interesting enough to divert me from otherwise abject boredom).
On getting through customs, I then took a really nice bus most of the way to my B and B. These busses cost $19.95, and have the most comfy leather seats and free wifi on board! So I tried connecting using my N770, and it did. I then tried calling liz using google talk, and it worked. It cut out a lot, but the journey flew by while talking to her completely free while riding on a but using wifi. If I had been doing that paying through the nose using a mobile phone, that wouldn't have the same magnificence as free wifi, free google talk.
So I'm finally at the b and b, and I sat chatting for nearly an hour with the host. She's a really nice lady. She's an actress and accountant and b and b owner.
Apologies for the spelling. I write this at a time that my body doesn't normally know. I'll post more tomorrow.
The bus just pulled in to the car park at the hotel, which couldn't be more convenient. Although one could always spend time optimising away all costs and taking the free route, there's a lot to be said for paying a little extra and taking something tailored to your needs. The Hoppa bus is definitely worth paying for in that respect. On going upstairs, the room I had (165) was small but well formed, and the shower was very powerful and hot. It had one of those jets that stings on your skin if you turn the dial ever more. Awesome, especially after a long bus journey with National express from cambridge.
I wasn't impressed when - upon getting an urge for something sweet - I ventured to ask the girl in the bar if they served chocolate. She had to ask me several times before she understood what I was asking - possibly down to a tired head, but I think it had more to do with English not being her first language. The answer to my question was clearly "no" and - it being a sunday - there were no shops open to substitute for an airport hotel that doesn't have the forethought to sell chocolate (or employ people that know what it is).
Next morning, I simply got up at 8:30 and - avoiding breakfast - reversed my travel process.
I got to heathrow and couldn't believe my eyes - a krispy kreme donut place. I bought what they claimed was a glazed cruller and a tea. I'm Canadian, and I've been to Tim Horton's so I know what a cruller tastes like. Friends - this is not a cruller. This is a cake that is twisted to look like one. Don't buy it! The tea was OK though. After I'd done the donut, I then went into security.
x
Oh, there's a story I forgot to tell about my shoes first. I decided to wash the footbeds in my shoes the night before trapping myself in a cylindrical tube with hundreds of other people. My shoes had started stinking, and in a measure to reduce this stink, I gambled on being able to wash all of the filthy stink out of the footbeds, and get them dry by the following morning. My theory was of course that I would get all the smell out, and they'd be bone dry and odoour-free for my trip (and take-off-able if I had some urge to dodge DVT).
There is a flip side to the scenario, a darker underbelly. One could wake up and - on inspection of the footbeds - think they are dry. You then insert them into your boot, put them on and - only hours later - trench foot is your friend! This flip-side also actually compounds the shoe smell you were trying to avoid, because a slight bit of dampness left behind in a hiking boot will make fools of us all.
So basically, my shoes stunk and my feet felt like they are rotting. I bought a can of shoe deodorant, and spent the whole plane journey of 8 hours wondering how long we'd have to live if I replaced the low oxygen of the cabin with the fruity-booty.
So back onto the security, I actually had to take off my boots (pre-deodorant) and put everything I was carrying into plastic trays. All the while, I was waiting for the body scanner. Where was it? Surely the scanner is just after the xray. We were all just flooding into it like cattle to slaughter, surely. But No! I never saw a single sign of the scanners. And I looked. Maybe they forgot to bring it out after smelling my boots... but the more likely explanation that I prefer is that there aren't any.
The flight was as smooth as a whistle (thhough I'm not sure what that expression means). The one memory I will have of it, though, is the comment of the lead cabin steward. In a sarcastic tone: "Well ladies and gentlemen - that was a fabulous landing". Maybe it was the fact that both wheels were flat, or maybe it was down to the way that the whole entire central overhead baggage compartments almost shook out of the ceiling. I did really enjoy the seat-back entertainment system. It was a pleasure being able to watch what movie I wanted, when I wanted to. I first watched the Invention of Lying (which I found likeable and funny, and the concept was certainly unique). Then I watched a couple of TV programmes - one about weird boats, and one about climbers on everest - and then I watched Frost/Nixon (which was interesting enough to divert me from otherwise abject boredom).
On getting through customs, I then took a really nice bus most of the way to my B and B. These busses cost $19.95, and have the most comfy leather seats and free wifi on board! So I tried connecting using my N770, and it did. I then tried calling liz using google talk, and it worked. It cut out a lot, but the journey flew by while talking to her completely free while riding on a but using wifi. If I had been doing that paying through the nose using a mobile phone, that wouldn't have the same magnificence as free wifi, free google talk.
So I'm finally at the b and b, and I sat chatting for nearly an hour with the host. She's a really nice lady. She's an actress and accountant and b and b owner.
Apologies for the spelling. I write this at a time that my body doesn't normally know. I'll post more tomorrow.
Saturday, 6 February 2010
Tiny First post - the night before I go to london
I am making this quick post as my pizza goes cold down stairs. I'm busy printing accommodation confirmations, worrying about my packing and feeling increasingly hungry as the smell wafts up the stairs from the kitchen where Liz has been making tonight's dinner.
I'm excited, but at the same time freaking out about getting everything ready for going tomorrow. So instead of freaking, I'm going to go and sort it out!
I'm excited, but at the same time freaking out about getting everything ready for going tomorrow. So instead of freaking, I'm going to go and sort it out!