Returning to the party

The journey back to the mainland saw a glimmer of good news come to me via my international phone card while on the ferry to Tsawwassen. My share grant that had appeared to be mistakenly requested to be posted to me by cheque actually had been sent to my account electronically as actually requested - obviously there was an error in the recorded form of the request. I now had proper cash funds again, and no longer had to rely on using the annoying replacement Mastercard. This was good news, for there were many more activities for the week ahead.

There was a clear morning, transitioning to a part cloudy afternoon for my journey across the straight, and instead of staying in the Seawest lounge, I spent what time there was left of the journey resting in front of the olympics on TV.

My whole day concentrated on getting to the WestEnd Guest House. I actually found it really hard to find, because Haro street is not just off Burrard, where the tourist map had show it to be. I walked up and down and got as far as Nelson street before turning back and asking one of the amazing Volunteers who were taking a break with a coffee. He said he wasn't sure, but he soon got out his iPhone and looked it up on the map. We were sitting just 1 block away, and I actually had to go up Smithe St. before it merged and became Haro St.

I was quickly finding that the bag I had purchased needs to be wheeled in an upright position, making it hard to push by the vertical handle especially on the block pavements. It seemed like a long walk, only because I wasn't sure how far I had to go. When I got there, I wasn't disappointed - the front was well kept, and the building seemed large and spacious, even though it was sandwiched in between imposing apartment blocks. I rang the doorbell, and Evan came to the door and met me. The building looked imacculately kept, and was fitted luxuriously. Large comfy furniture, a beautiful dining table to seat 10, and period fittings here and there. A small kitchenette stocked with all the teas and coffee you could want, and openly available snacks are dotted around, including an almond slice cake kept under a heavy glass cloche on a raised cake plate. I was slightly disappointed that the fridge didn't contain milk for making tea, but I was happy to use the cream that was there. I'm sure I would have had milk available if I had asked. The really nice touch was the golden brass sink in the corner. It would take real dedication to keep such a lovely item in the tip-top condition that it was in before me. This was a nice place!

The room was well kept, and had a huge comfy bed - part memory foam, though, which isn't my favourite thing in the world - is the centerpiece, with some of the nicest sheets I've seen. A nice touch was a little dog sitting on the end of the bed. The bathroom has a nice painting of the "lost houses of the West End", in sepia colours, recalling a day long gone. There was a small chocolate cake on a china plate waiting to be nibbled by me, and a card to me (by my first name) welcoming me to the West End guest house. There were nice soaps in the bathroom, and there was even a lint roller - excellent, because I had been lamenting the lack of one in my packing.

I had this day free, and intended to use it soaking up some of the atmosphere in the city. I got a few email chores out of the way on the guest computer, and then had a shower before going out.

The feeling while walking around the city was one that I had longed for while staying on Vancouver island. Everywhere has its charm, but the life in this city is infectious. It is something that I fear is unique only during the presence of the olympics, and only in this city at this one time in history. I felt this ephemera in my bones, but it is thankfully an ephemeral phenomenon that at least lasts more than 1 day. But once the olympics are over, and I depart this city, I fear a feeling of mourning awaits me. Time will tell, I guess, and the only way to see if this feeling is able to exist anywhere else, or if this level of hospitality and friendliness is a uniquely Canadian thing, will be evident during the 2012 Olympics back on my other home turf in the UK, in London.

But the olympic spirit - possibly this Canadian olympic spirit - is something you don't get to capture more than once in a lifetime. I just wonder what impact it will have on the host nation, and Vancouver in particular, once the dust has settled and the olympics have been and gone. I heard tales on Canada uniting and forming a strong sense of national identity - not at first, but gradually as the torch relay passed from one community to another. People felt that their nation had been changed by it, proudly doing things in the typical largesse that Canada is so good at. The torch relay was the longest on any host-nation turf, and involved more torch bearers from the host-nation than at any other games. The torch was designed by Bombardier, a Canadian company, and each torch bearer got to keep their torch as a souvenir. What an incredible journey through an incredible country.

And this was rubbing off on me, at least - so happy to be here, so dreading when it ends. I looked at the positives, though - I was here, now, in the thick of it, and there were things to do.

I decided to make a trip to the olympic superstore to actually get a good look around. I'll just say I spent nearly an hour and a half there, and didn't really come out with a lot. The streets outside were calling, and the only thing to really do out there was walk around - shows how uninspiring shopping indoors can be. I spent hours watching people, and marvelling at the sea of Team Canada merchandise being worn by everyone from all over the world. Was the Canadian Olympic spirit running in everyones veins? Was this feeling even running through the athletes of the host Nation? Surely this would break an olympic record somehow?

Go Canada, Go! It was everywhere - in office windows, on the glowing sign at the front and side of every single bus in the city, on every piece of advertising for every conceivable product. Do other countries athletes feel good about all of this, or are they all sheltered away from Canada, huddling down in the cotchels of the olympic village?

If there's one thing that coming here has done to me, it is to set me on a quest to see if this feeling is an olympic feeling, or if this feeling is a gladness to be home in my country, or if it is a combination of the two. London 2012 is the next opportunity, and it is right on my doorstep. An olympics blowout it is not - but it will be a valid comparison of a similar event held by two fairly similar nations.

That night, I went into the Scotiabank Theater on a whim. With no watch on, I did not know the time. I saw that they had avatar on in 3D, and - it beeing around 10:40pm - I had 5 minutes to catch it if I wanted to. It would end at around 01:15am, but my bed was literally up the street. I loved the 3D effects of the movie, but found the length of the movie, and its repetitive nature, to be tiresome. After trapsing the streets of vancouver, I was almost asleep in the movie, which is a first for me. I did keep awake for all of it, but felt unsatisfied by the ending. In all, a triumph for technology but an also-ran of a movie.

When I returned back, I was greeted by a plateful of cookies that Evan had obviously made earlier. They were dleicious and gooey, and had been left on a metal plate on a pedestal for guests to snack on at our leisure. They were a welcome treat, even given the time of night and the fact that I was about to sleep. I even borrowed a copy of an Absolutely Fabulous DVD to watch in my room to send me to sleep - not really a statement about ab-fab, and more to do with wanting something to concentrate on that would help me take my mind off the buzz in my head.