On the morning of the 24th, I had a great breakfast cooked by Cheri. There were a number of guests around the table - an older couple from somewhere in the deep south of America (who talked a lot about farming things), and a couple of German guys who were very polite and unimposing.
The food style out here in BC seems to be very eclectic, and there seems to be a trend towards fusing mexican food with traditional breakfast items that strikes a really tasty twang. The variation of that that Cheri was cooking was a form of enchilada omlette stuffed with cheese and tomatoes and came with salsa etc. She cooked it in a large pan in the oven, and it was really tasty. It probably didn't help that I felt stuffed full from having returned so late at night only to gorge on some of the left over cookies.
I spoke with Cheri - as I had the previous night - regarding my accommodation predicament for tomorrow night, and I think she had been unsuccessful in her pinging of her network. I felt surprisingly at ease with myself, and she only added to that saying that no-one would let me go without a room. I thanked her for her help, and as the morning wound on I went through my now-clockwork routine for decamping from bed and breakfasts in preparation for departing. There is something nice about having to impose a certain amount of discipline on yourself when travelling. Arranging your bags in such a way that the items you need most are accessible, and you have solid ways of managing things like dirty laundry (which may not see a washing machine for whole week) and other stuff. This is in stark contrast to living a static existence at home, where you have to carry nothing with you.
The schedule for today was a mixture of pressing urgency and lingering uncertainty. In the urgency department, the morning begins as it means to go on. I have to make my way to the Chocolate Lily from Stonehaven in order to synch up with Karen and/or Rob, then I plan to see if I can leave the wheeled case with John at Mickey's Kits Beach Chalet until my arrival there on the 26th (2 nights away), then make it up to my Ice Hockey match Quarter final at Canada Place for 12:00pm, and then occupy myself once that ends up until the time that I need to get across the city to go to the Short Track Speed Skating session at the Pacific Coliseum out east of the city.
So I set off from Stonehaven at around 10am, and took a bus all the way to Pender street. It might have been a 26 or something, from Deep Cove straight to the center of Vancouver.
There, I got the trusty 22 down to Maple - the time now was approaching 11 something. When I got to the Chocolate Lily, I went to knock on the door. They had a note out saying they were in the Suite at the Front - the Linden - and also instructions for a German couple that I think were checking out. I found them there, and I got a look around in the Linden. A big suite with about 4 separate rooms, there was a newly installed kitchen (with "an oven big enough for a Turkey"). It looked great, and not that much more money than the Laurel in the scheme of things. The German couple arrived and we shook hands, said hello, talked olympics for all of 1 minute. They had a plane to catch, and I had a match to get to.
I hustled out of there and lugged my bag to John's place (Mickey's Kits) 5 minutes away where - having called him from the Laurel - I was able to get him to be there to take in my bags. He too had things to do for his next lot of guests. Apparently, B&B owners don't like one nighters. They can get away with only servicing the rooms properly every two or three nights, and here I am the third night in a row living as a one-nighter. John of course never mentioned this, and he was an extremely friendly, great guy with lots of knowledge and very helpful. I explained I needed to get to the match, and he told me I could get I think a number 4 bus from up the hill. I didn't choose that though - too risky on my schedule. So then, running only on fumes and an urgent need to be in the center of the city, I went and stood at the bus stop by the Chocolate lily. I was joined by the German couple and - soon - a load of people with many many bags. I wanted to make sure I got the prime spot on the bus, but once I saw how many busses were passing the stop completely full and unable to take more passengers, time started to move very quickly. Soon enough, it was quarter to 12, then 5 to 12....
Eventually, this day from hell yielded a bus that had room, and I made a point of piling on first. I was gripping olympics tickets, so I didn't need to pay. It always amazed me how pleasant the locals were to people like me who had multiplied the population of their city probably by two, and made it twice as hard for them to do their daily commutes. People were really friendly, and always accommodating.
I sprinted from the other end all the way down - can you believe it - the wrong part of Vancouver to get to my match. I wound up near Canada Place instead of at BC Place, and if you look at a map of vancouver you'll know it's a long bloody walk. Never have I been so confused. Fortunately, I knew this was happening quickly and managed to turn it around to get to the venue about 20 minutes late. It was really odd as I arrived at my seating area, because as I made my way past some people to get to my seat, I thought I recognised them. The lady even expressed familiarity to me, but I couldn't really place her so carried on past. I took my seat, and sure enough as I looked over I recognised the two younger people with her. They were the two people who were being leered at by a couple of drunken bozzo's sitting in front of them at the hockey game last night. Unmistakeable. Nice to see some familiar faces, but not quite the coincidence I had with seeing the Taxi people in the subway.
The match today was USA - a veritable global super power in ice hockey - vs Switzerland. I was told the match started well, with Switzerland and the US facing off. Problems then started to appear in the second period (roughly when I arrived) when there was a string of penalties caused by the Swiss. Most of it was just rough play, with really the Americans starting it all. It was only after the 4th player was off the ice for Switzerland and was about to come on the ice that - during the power play - the Americans scored their first goal 2 minutes into the 3rd period.
The Third period was defended well by the Swiss. The room was alight with Swiss fans, and others joining them, shouting what sounded like "Up Suisse" - the same chant we had at the Curling! As the third period end got nearer, the Swiss were sensing the writing on the wall - to progress any further, they needed all the help in the world. So they fielded their goalie. That's right - he left his goal, and came out onto the ice as a 6th player. And what do you think happened?
The outcome of the game was nothing the swiss would write home about to their families. The Americans took advantage and in 1.5 minutes, a puck was swishing the back of the Swiss net. All they could do was watch. According to the game record, the goalie went straight back into net for the last 12 seconds of the game. A humiliating blow against a team that played pretty well, and had tremendous support in the venue. I was cheering for them, and I felt that goal about as deeply as any of the Swiss people watching.
From the Hockey to the Short Track, there really is no sport that gets the blood pumping as much as this one. I prickle with excitement when I think back to each of these sessions, admiring the cat-and-mouse nature of the sport, and the tenuous grip each athlete has on the ice amongst a throng of pointy elbows, each one poised to burst one-anothers bubble at a stroke of a shoulder.
We started well with the women's 1000m heats, but this soon turned laughable. The first three races carried three DSQs, with shambollic performance all round. The Canadian women seemed strong, but in amongst the carnage of each of the first races, it seemed daunting to make headway through the morrasse. The excitement in these races boils up from the fact that they only have on the order of 6 or 7 laps to get it right, and the sprint finishes are always a mixed bag in the womens game. Most of the finishes are abundantly obvious as to the winners, and I think on this day the field was filled with low ranking participants.
Next up was the Men's 500m heats. This was going to be a blazing inferno, because we've got Charles Hamelin - world record holder, world number 1 etc. - here to show us how it's done. And the 500m races are a blink-and-you'll miss it affair, so speed, strategy and cunning are all part of the tapestry. The first three races got off to a good start, with each being won hands down by the Koreans. Hats off to an American skater, who plunged out quite hard but still put in his time of just over a minute - Everyone cheered him through. The 4th and 6th races were the real screamers, though. Up came Charles Hamelin, who put in a scorcher of a time with 41.4 seconds - the fastest of the night so far. He breezed to his finish on a wind made of Canadian fans screams. The next race saw a frenchman win, and the 6th race saw one of Hamelin's counterparts - Francois Louis Tremblay - set a new olympic record of 41.39.
As I watched this spectacle, I was of course joined by my now-obligatory ringside buddies - the people I had sat next to the last two events. Apparently, the reason we were always meeting like this was simple - the guy lived in the UK, and bought his tickets from Sportsworld.
We discussed the races, and I think we could see what was about to shock everyone in the stadium coming long before the third race of the night even started. Our conversation piece surrounded the controversial topic of how the Koreans got so damn good at Short Track Speed Skating. Our conclusion was some sort of magical tea. It almost proved right.
The women's 3000m relay carnage was about to begin, and the intensity was almost unbearable. They run two races - Final A and Final B. It really isn't possible to give commentary on STSS relays after the fact. Suffice to say that the Koreans and Chinese put in a superb-looking performance, with Canada a close third in Final A. The usual screaming helped propel the Canadian women into Bronze, with Kalyna Roberge the undoubted star of the team. You can instantly see ground being gained with her on the ice - a true talent. Again, I will eventually post my videos of the finals onto this blog.
When you get the opportunity to see your country medal at all at the Olympics it is a really nice moment, especially on home soil, and especially when you haven't been back for so long. It didn't matter that I hadn't been to Vancouver really at all ever, and to sit here was a truly fantastic experience, especially when the sport is such an exciting one! But what was the holdup in announcing the winners? We thought it might have been the usual deal - things take time. But there was a lot of toing-and-froing of officials back and forth, and a lot of blue korean uniforms around. What was going on?
Then there was an announcement I couldn't really hear, but I remember myself on video afterwards sounding elated that - at that moment - the Korean team being DSQed from Gold medal position. Holy Shit - Canada got Silver! Amazing!
I left the rink and headed out onto the concourse. People were filing out of the building less efficiently this time, and I seemed to be following a different path. I was walking and chatting to a guy about the races, and we cut through a cordon from a lower pathway onto the sidewalk where we noticed many people were coming from. When we got down to where the busses were, there was a transit official telling us on the pavement to go all the way back and join with the people who were on the lower pathway. The people emerging from the lower pathway in front of us were technically the beginning of the lineup, and we weren't allowed on the busses. I thought to myself this was wrong, and I said to the official "Look at all these people coming up this way. Are you going to tell all of them they cannot get on the bus?" He said that was exactly what he was going to do and things started getting a little tense. His enthusiasm for fighting the world soon abated, and although I felt targetted for questioning the policy for getting on the bus, I managed to sneak my way onto the second bus they had and managed to get back relatively quickly and unscathed.
After a long day, who wants to go back and eat microwave Kraft Dinner for supper? I needed a chill out, and decided to explore the many places to eat near the Chocolate Lily. My choice was guided after talking to Karen - I would eat at the Octopus Garden just around the corner.
I felt chilled out and elated about Canada's surprise success at the cost of Korea. I entered the Garden and was greeted by a nice Japanese lady. I decided to sit at the bar where others were sitting, and soaked in the atmosphere. There are many Octopus shaped things, and many Japanese touches. The owner - Sato - is a really nice guy who hovers around behind the scenes, in more of an overseeing capacity but also making many nice things. He was very conversational, and I was in a really good mood, trying to enjoy my last few days here.
I ordered the Olympic Sushi - a stack of sushi roll pieces in the shape of an inukshuk. I also had plum wine, and jasmine tea. There were photos of many stars coming and eating here, including Steven Segal, I'm sure there was an ex-american president. Various others who are famous, but I forget who they are.
The food was really good and fresh. I had trouble eating the large pieces of sushi with chop sticks, but that just shows what a pleb I probably am with chop sticks as opposed to a reflection on the suitability of the food for eating with this tool. I really enjoyed the place, and got into conversation with the people around me about the olympics. Everyone was really friendly, and I will definitely go there again on my return to Vancouver. I recommend Octopus Garden to one and All!
And on that note, I went back to the Chocolate lily and crashed out in bed.
This is a warts-and-all account of my trip to the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Winter Games.
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
Sunday, 21 March 2010
The Accommodation cat's cradle
On the 23rd of Feb, I had to move on to my next destination. Fortunately, I didn't have to be anywhere during the day, but the unfortunate part was that my accommodation was quite far away, and I had an ice-hockey match to go to at 9pm in Vancouver.
On checkout from the bed-and breakfast, I packed up and brought my bags downstairs. I had a chat with Ron (I think that's his name), and he brought out the bill for the accommodation. I was a bit startled by this, because I thought I had payed the accommodation in advance. At least, I had tried to be paying all of the accommodation in advance from the UK so I didn't have to worry about it while I was here. I then poked around in my emails at the guest computer, and couldn't find any evidence of having asked them to take the payment early. I had given them my credit card number, though. They explained that it was taken to safeguard the booking, but that the payment isn't taken until afterwards when you are checking out. It was one cost I didn't really expect to have, especially one I didn't really want when I'd already lost my card.
I set out into a bustling city, with my wheeled bag that had a mind of its own. I eventually realised that the thing needed to be stood upright and pushed so all 4 wheels were in contact with the ground, otherwise it would bounce from wheel to wheel and eventually topple over. What a nuisance when you've got places to get to. The nightmare scenario that kept playing through my mind over and over again was that the wheels would be ripped from the bottom of the bag, and that I'd have to carry the thing alongside my already hefty backpack.
So my next destination was Stonehaven Bed and Breakfast in Deep Cove. I left the West End guest house around lunch time, and I walked to Waterfront Station. I decided to take the Seabus. I wasn't really sure what to expect from the seabus but I had seen pictures of it before. It literally is what it says - just a huge flat boat with rows of seats inside, and posts for people who are standing to hold onto. It pulls up into a dock that is just wide enough for the boat to fit in width-wise, and eventually it stops after bouncing off the inner wall a couple of times, oscillating to a stop against a huge rubber damper. When it has stopped, the doors into the boat are lined up perfectly with the doors in the station. The doors on the aft-side of the boat open first to let all of the people off the boat, then the fore doors open and we all pile inside. It's a nice ride across the inlet with views of the mountains, the vast shipping docks, the bridge and some other oddities like a huge pile of sulphur (presumably a waste by-product of some form of oil distillation process) waiting to be taken away.
On arrival at Lonsdale quay, you come off the boat and you are more or less inside the bus terminal. [For anyone who may be travelling and want to get to Deep Cove: the easiest way to get to Deep Cove is to take a 239 bus to Phibbs Exchange, and then take a 212 to Deep Cove, where the bus terminates before heading back in the opposite direction]. At the Quay, though, there are places to shop for touristy goods, get food and have a coffee. There's also fast food. It was a good place as far as bus-stationey areas go, and probably more so in summer when the place is busy.
The journey to Deep Cove was fairly painless, and when I got there it was as rainy as it was when I'd left the city. Deep Cove itself sits on a corner of the Indian Arm inlet, and looks to be the kind of place that is sleepy at this time of year, but probably bustling with Gin-Palace pilots out for a stroll on dry-land in summer. On this occassion, though, I wasn't getting anywhere looking around for Stonehaven B&B in the immediate vicinity, so I went into what turned out to be a childrens clothes shop to ask for help. The lady was really nice, and she looked up on google maps where I wanted to go. It turns out that I needed to be over 2km away up a steep-steep hill and down the other side. She rang a taxi, and I cursed myself for not printing out the page on the Stonehaven website that gave details of how to get their place. I spent 6 months planning, only to leave the most important information at home.
I went and stood for the taxi, and when it arrived the taxi driver was clearly sizing up the size of the fare he was going to make today: with my bags, I had "airport fare" written all over me. Given how far we were from YVR, I'd would have been rubbing my hands too. I put my bags into his boot, and I told him where I was going. He typed it into his GPS, and simultaneously wrote the word "loser" across his brow. "Do you know how far I drove to get here. And I'm just taking you two kilometers". I apologised to him, but I didn't really feel that sorry. He's going to break even on this trip - otherwise it's his fault for accepting the job. Maybe taxi firms should ask where people are travelling to?
Stonehaven is a beautiful house overlooking Indian Arm. Ted and Cheri were very friendly and welcoming, and Cheri even made me a Sandwich for dinner, obviously detecting that I'd had a hard trip. This was the first time that someone made me a meal on arrival, and the bonus is that they didn't charge me for it. I arrived around 4pm, which is when I'd planned to arrive there 6 months beforehand - not bad planning, if I do say so myself, after the slight hiccup in my arrival. The room was nice and fresh, everything modern and the bathroom was awesome, with black slate tiles everywhere and a great shower enclosure. The bed was high and comfy, and the room - although it couldn't be locked while you were out - did have a privacy lock for when you are inside. I think the likelihood of theft here is minimal, and I'd trust Ted and Cheri 100%, but you can never tell.
I sat and ate the sandwich in the common area for guests, which had a large flat screen TV upon which I watched the ice hockey (I think it was Canada and another team). The sandwich was toasted, with ham, cheese, tomatoes, and lettuce with some spread, and it was just what I needed. There were also the now-standard-but-always-welcome fresh baked cookies - chocolate chip - sitting on a metal platter by the fridge, which was full of beers and other drinks to have whenever I wanted to. All good stuff. There was also a coffee machine, but this wasn't warmed up and I didn't really have time to use it.
By 7pm, I was out of there. Now used to the journey on the busses and sea bus into the city, I actually found a bus that went straight into the city center without stopping from Deep Cove (but I can't remember the number). I learned on the return journey that to get to Stonehaven, I had to get off the bus at the junction of Deep Cove Road and Strathcona, and walk down Strathcona etc (again - sorry for giving in-universe information).
The Ice hockey was manic - they put you into a holding pen outside the stadium and underneath the skytrain tracks. We waited for about half an hour until eventually they opened the gates. On my way to get through security to join this line, I passed a badge salesman being attacked by some possibly drunken guy who was obviously jealous about some perceived interaction the badge seller had made towards what might have been the attackers girlfriend. It was a bit pathetic, and was the only sign of trouble I saw while in Vancouver for the whole time. A few punches were landed, then the police were there to break it up. The two guys were foreign, and maybe they knew eachother.
Anyway, the hockey game was a Mens match - Slovakia vs. Norway. A little known fact to at least myself is that a lot of the Slovak players play in the Canadian NHL, and there were various players names read out that were met with huge cheers - no idea what went on there.
The game got underway, and within 5 minutes a Slovakian player had been knocked unconscious on the ice. Play was stopped, and the medical team came onto the ice. They stretchered him away, they shovelled something off the ice, and then play resumed.
It quickly became apparent that Slovakia were the better side, although Norway made a valiant effort and the game closed out with Slovakia snatching victory 4-3. Except that I wasn't there to see it. 5 minutes before the end of play, the score was 3-3. I ducked out early to avoid the line-ups so that I could guarantee getting to the train and seabus without having to fight the crowds. It worked, because the station was empty, although I could hear waves of people following up behind me.
I had to hang around Lonsdale quay for 20 minutes waiting for a bus. It was strange how safe I felt in the bus-station, in-spite of the late hour and location. I got back to Stonehaven around close to 1am at night. I can't remember sleeping there, but when I woke up the next day I was getting one day closer to having nowhere to stay on the 25th....
On checkout from the bed-and breakfast, I packed up and brought my bags downstairs. I had a chat with Ron (I think that's his name), and he brought out the bill for the accommodation. I was a bit startled by this, because I thought I had payed the accommodation in advance. At least, I had tried to be paying all of the accommodation in advance from the UK so I didn't have to worry about it while I was here. I then poked around in my emails at the guest computer, and couldn't find any evidence of having asked them to take the payment early. I had given them my credit card number, though. They explained that it was taken to safeguard the booking, but that the payment isn't taken until afterwards when you are checking out. It was one cost I didn't really expect to have, especially one I didn't really want when I'd already lost my card.
I set out into a bustling city, with my wheeled bag that had a mind of its own. I eventually realised that the thing needed to be stood upright and pushed so all 4 wheels were in contact with the ground, otherwise it would bounce from wheel to wheel and eventually topple over. What a nuisance when you've got places to get to. The nightmare scenario that kept playing through my mind over and over again was that the wheels would be ripped from the bottom of the bag, and that I'd have to carry the thing alongside my already hefty backpack.
So my next destination was Stonehaven Bed and Breakfast in Deep Cove. I left the West End guest house around lunch time, and I walked to Waterfront Station. I decided to take the Seabus. I wasn't really sure what to expect from the seabus but I had seen pictures of it before. It literally is what it says - just a huge flat boat with rows of seats inside, and posts for people who are standing to hold onto. It pulls up into a dock that is just wide enough for the boat to fit in width-wise, and eventually it stops after bouncing off the inner wall a couple of times, oscillating to a stop against a huge rubber damper. When it has stopped, the doors into the boat are lined up perfectly with the doors in the station. The doors on the aft-side of the boat open first to let all of the people off the boat, then the fore doors open and we all pile inside. It's a nice ride across the inlet with views of the mountains, the vast shipping docks, the bridge and some other oddities like a huge pile of sulphur (presumably a waste by-product of some form of oil distillation process) waiting to be taken away.
On arrival at Lonsdale quay, you come off the boat and you are more or less inside the bus terminal. [For anyone who may be travelling and want to get to Deep Cove: the easiest way to get to Deep Cove is to take a 239 bus to Phibbs Exchange, and then take a 212 to Deep Cove, where the bus terminates before heading back in the opposite direction]. At the Quay, though, there are places to shop for touristy goods, get food and have a coffee. There's also fast food. It was a good place as far as bus-stationey areas go, and probably more so in summer when the place is busy.
The journey to Deep Cove was fairly painless, and when I got there it was as rainy as it was when I'd left the city. Deep Cove itself sits on a corner of the Indian Arm inlet, and looks to be the kind of place that is sleepy at this time of year, but probably bustling with Gin-Palace pilots out for a stroll on dry-land in summer. On this occassion, though, I wasn't getting anywhere looking around for Stonehaven B&B in the immediate vicinity, so I went into what turned out to be a childrens clothes shop to ask for help. The lady was really nice, and she looked up on google maps where I wanted to go. It turns out that I needed to be over 2km away up a steep-steep hill and down the other side. She rang a taxi, and I cursed myself for not printing out the page on the Stonehaven website that gave details of how to get their place. I spent 6 months planning, only to leave the most important information at home.
I went and stood for the taxi, and when it arrived the taxi driver was clearly sizing up the size of the fare he was going to make today: with my bags, I had "airport fare" written all over me. Given how far we were from YVR, I'd would have been rubbing my hands too. I put my bags into his boot, and I told him where I was going. He typed it into his GPS, and simultaneously wrote the word "loser" across his brow. "Do you know how far I drove to get here. And I'm just taking you two kilometers". I apologised to him, but I didn't really feel that sorry. He's going to break even on this trip - otherwise it's his fault for accepting the job. Maybe taxi firms should ask where people are travelling to?
Stonehaven is a beautiful house overlooking Indian Arm. Ted and Cheri were very friendly and welcoming, and Cheri even made me a Sandwich for dinner, obviously detecting that I'd had a hard trip. This was the first time that someone made me a meal on arrival, and the bonus is that they didn't charge me for it. I arrived around 4pm, which is when I'd planned to arrive there 6 months beforehand - not bad planning, if I do say so myself, after the slight hiccup in my arrival. The room was nice and fresh, everything modern and the bathroom was awesome, with black slate tiles everywhere and a great shower enclosure. The bed was high and comfy, and the room - although it couldn't be locked while you were out - did have a privacy lock for when you are inside. I think the likelihood of theft here is minimal, and I'd trust Ted and Cheri 100%, but you can never tell.
I sat and ate the sandwich in the common area for guests, which had a large flat screen TV upon which I watched the ice hockey (I think it was Canada and another team). The sandwich was toasted, with ham, cheese, tomatoes, and lettuce with some spread, and it was just what I needed. There were also the now-standard-but-always-welcome fresh baked cookies - chocolate chip - sitting on a metal platter by the fridge, which was full of beers and other drinks to have whenever I wanted to. All good stuff. There was also a coffee machine, but this wasn't warmed up and I didn't really have time to use it.
By 7pm, I was out of there. Now used to the journey on the busses and sea bus into the city, I actually found a bus that went straight into the city center without stopping from Deep Cove (but I can't remember the number). I learned on the return journey that to get to Stonehaven, I had to get off the bus at the junction of Deep Cove Road and Strathcona, and walk down Strathcona etc (again - sorry for giving in-universe information).
The Ice hockey was manic - they put you into a holding pen outside the stadium and underneath the skytrain tracks. We waited for about half an hour until eventually they opened the gates. On my way to get through security to join this line, I passed a badge salesman being attacked by some possibly drunken guy who was obviously jealous about some perceived interaction the badge seller had made towards what might have been the attackers girlfriend. It was a bit pathetic, and was the only sign of trouble I saw while in Vancouver for the whole time. A few punches were landed, then the police were there to break it up. The two guys were foreign, and maybe they knew eachother.
Anyway, the hockey game was a Mens match - Slovakia vs. Norway. A little known fact to at least myself is that a lot of the Slovak players play in the Canadian NHL, and there were various players names read out that were met with huge cheers - no idea what went on there.
The game got underway, and within 5 minutes a Slovakian player had been knocked unconscious on the ice. Play was stopped, and the medical team came onto the ice. They stretchered him away, they shovelled something off the ice, and then play resumed.
It quickly became apparent that Slovakia were the better side, although Norway made a valiant effort and the game closed out with Slovakia snatching victory 4-3. Except that I wasn't there to see it. 5 minutes before the end of play, the score was 3-3. I ducked out early to avoid the line-ups so that I could guarantee getting to the train and seabus without having to fight the crowds. It worked, because the station was empty, although I could hear waves of people following up behind me.
I had to hang around Lonsdale quay for 20 minutes waiting for a bus. It was strange how safe I felt in the bus-station, in-spite of the late hour and location. I got back to Stonehaven around close to 1am at night. I can't remember sleeping there, but when I woke up the next day I was getting one day closer to having nowhere to stay on the 25th....
Sunday, 7 March 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
17th to 21st - Curling, Victoria, crab and butchart gardens
On the 17th, I had a delicious breakfast at the Moka House up the ramp from where the boat was. I felt pretty tired, and had another long journey ahead of me back to the mainland for another day of curling. Well, not really a whole day of curling, but the day was essentially devoted to the curling. I would have to leave on the 11am ferry to maike it to the game on time, and I started to get into a routine whenever I had to go somewhere. Make sure I've got my camera, and that it is charged :p . Make sure I have tickets, make sure I've got my wallet.
It didn't help that I was waiting for my credit card replacement to show up at Dennett and judy's. They had been calling every few hours while I was out yesterday, and thankfully on this morning they had caught me to confirm that we would be around to sign for the card. Mastercard were insisting that UPS would need a signature, so we would see once the day had panned out. I was living on borrowed time if that card didn't show.
After breakfast and some morning curling watching on the computer, we headed out to the ferry. The usual carbon-copy ferry crossing occurred - Sea West lounge seat, coffee, cake, leather recliner....
When I got to the Tsawassen Ferry terminal things seemed a little better organised at this time of the day. There was actually an express 620 bus to take me straight to Bridgeport Canada Line station waiting - one of several. I just showed my Olympics ticket and got on. It was quite a nice feeling - this one ticket seemed to get you some respect from people, and a nod from the driver. People who didn't have tickets were always interested in talking about what you'd be seeing, and how they had tried to get tickets and failed, or how they had wished they had tried in the first place. In spite of the obvious burden that an olympics puts onto the host city, everyone seemed to be very warm to it now that it was finally happening.
When I got to King Edward station, I knew not to follow the ridiculous instructions being given by the volunteers to send people all the way down to Manitoba street, and instead chose to walk up the hill to the top of the park and maybe spend the time I had before the match - about an hour - looking around perhaps at the Bloedel conservatory. When I got there, the heat in the bubble was overwhelming and I instead chose to surf the gift shop and take in the powerful fountain outside. I finished up in the gift shop and noticed that it was already 14:05 - the match will have started already, but I wasn't panicked. I made my way to the venue and got in quickly - so much for the security yet again. I did have a pat down this time, but it was utterly pointless - people too polite to even ruffle your jacket. I'd had the same thing twice before now, and found it fairly laughable. Time will tell if I get a more thorough pat down at any of the other events.
This match was a mixture, but no Canadians. I was instead taking an interest in the GB match. There were times when the men's GB team would pull off the right looking shots, but then either get the weight wrong or not provide the curl. This happened in enough cases to make the game seem tight at the beginning, but the brits - who were playing France - won out in the end 9-4. It was strange watching the british match, because Canada aren't playing and as such support for anything generally seemed muted. It was a shame, because of all the places the crowd might support, it would either be the UK or the US.
The curling exited at around 5:15, and I pretty much had to go straight back to the island in order to make sure I didn't get back at an irritatingly late time for Dennett to pick me up. As it stood, I'd likely be back late so when I got to King Edward station and saw the lineup, I decided to get some dinner to give the line up time to quieten down.
So I had dinner by going to Flying Wedge, which is a pizza chain in the City. I found the place reassuringly well laid out, with a huge fridge behind the counter labelled "Food Rotation FIFO". This meant that they had structured the shelves in the fridge so that you could only take the pre-prepared base out of it that had been made the longest ago. I like places that manage their food well. The deal here is you can buy wedges of pizza for around $5 individually, about $9 for two and they had other deals. There is good selection - I went for the Pepperoni, and I was not disappionted at all. The tomato sauce on these pizzas was amongst the best I have tasted in a long time - lots of herbs coming through, and yet a sweet and dark tomatoey flavour to boot. The cheese was a 4 cheese mix, and the pepperoni was absolutely huge slices, and properly meaty yet fall apart. I'd rate the Flying Wedge an 8/10 on Cambie street.
I returned slowly to the station with my pizza, eating it along the way and no doubt making many other people want pizza too.
I got to the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal after 7:30pm, and as such I had to wait for the 9pm ferry. Not the most fun I've ever had. But everywhere I've been on Vancouver's transit system left me feeling safe. I never once felt the irking I sometimes get on say the London tube or on the bus network out here in rural Cambridgeshire. Maybe it is because everyone in at least Vancouver seems to talk to each other ad-infinitum and as such everyone feels more at ease with where they are.... One thing I don't recommend though is buying any of the drinks from the hot drinks machine at the Tsawwassen end of the ferry to Schwartz Bay. It costs $2 and tasted - at least while I was there - as though the machine had a constipation problem in the tube that dispenses the flavouring powder. I can't confirm if this always happens, because I never bought it again.
I got back, and found that UPS had delivered my card. It turned out that they didn't even wait for a signature and had just dumped it on the drawbridge of the house boat. So much for the truly ridiculous pronouncement by mastercard that the thing had to be delivered and signed for.
The next day (18th), we had tickets for the IMAX and went to see a film about the evolution of Cowboys around the world, and then we saw a film about the wildlife in the Serengeti. The IMAX is buried inside the Royal BC Museum in Victoria, which is about 15 minutes walk from Fishermen's Wharf. Also inside the Museum is a very good gift shop, although their prices were typically touristy. They had aboriginal art of various flavours, books on presumably exhibit material and the obligatory Vancouver 2010 Olympics merchandise, which I love to browse through. It really is great way to make money for the support of the Olympics, because everyone wants to take home a piece of memorabilia or the odd souvenir of their trip to remind them of the great time they had while there. For me this was no exception, although my fascination quickly became pins. They had venue pins, mascot pins, landmark pins, sport pins, cultural pins etc. It turns out that there is a huge industry in trading Olympics pins, and people come from all over the world just to collect them and go to places like The Bay to the pin trading market. I won't be participating in this hobby! But I did buy pins that reminded me of my trip - one for each of the sports I watched, one of an umbrella to remind me of the rain, and some from my trips to places, and of course of the mascots.
We wlaked back to the boat in the dark after the IMAX and had food from the excellent Grilligans takeaway at Fishermen's wharf. Come rain or shine, Dave - the proprietor of Grilligans - sells well considered, delicious food. In the time I was there, I had: a turkey salad pita (delicious, with thick layers of turkey, fresh salad, mayonnaise and all was tasty and fresh); His poutine (a classicly French Canadian dish of fries, special gravy and cheese curds. His fries are crispy, and cooked in a special fryer designed to do fries. The gravy is delicious and herby and the cheese curds are large, and soon become deliciously chewy - a recommended dish for warming up on a cold day, or filling a gap in your appetite); And his rib meal (amazingly tender ribs marinated in delicious BBQ sauce, and cooked on his BBQ out on his deck, all served with his fries and coleslaw which Dave makes up fresh on the spot).
On the 19th, my dad arrived and we helped my uncle Dennett pick up a floating dock for his Seadoo from a local shipping company. It was a big plastic box with a dug-out and rollers to lift the hull of the Seadoo out of the water.
The 20th saw my Birthday come around, and we went to Butchart Gardens - a national historic site, which means it is about 100 years old. Canada is such a young country that it's civilised history is really measured in decades, as opposed to the near millenia of Europe and North Africa. The Gardens come in two basic blocks - the sunken garden, and the Japanese garden. The highlight for me was the Japanese garden, which included authentic elements imported from Japan, and provided stunning photographic opportunities even with my compact camera.
When it came around to it,I had a laid back and easy time out on Vancouver island in the middle of an otherwise hectic olympic schedule. I'd never slept on a boat before, and although there was an earth quake on the night of the 19th that disturbed the waters enough to make sleeping difficult, it was a very comfy experience. The only to note about being on such a boat is that they aren't well insulated, so they need to be brought up to temperature before staying inside them. And they also need very specific knowledge of how the boat works in order to be able to bring things like forced air heating and the propane system for the oven up to working order, the prior needing the diesel system and the latter needing some solenoids engaging.
I bought a bag on Sunday the 21st of february to hold all of my purchases on the way back home to the UK and to take the pressure off my back by putting the weight onto the bags wheels, and also got hold of an attractive spread of Canadian Geese made from charred Cedar wood at a local gift store for half price.
See my pictures on picasa for all of these things and more.
I departed from Vancouver island around lunchtime on Monday the 22nd of February for a hectic week of competition, and a different B&B every night (but with no idea where I'd be staying on the night of the 25th).
It didn't help that I was waiting for my credit card replacement to show up at Dennett and judy's. They had been calling every few hours while I was out yesterday, and thankfully on this morning they had caught me to confirm that we would be around to sign for the card. Mastercard were insisting that UPS would need a signature, so we would see once the day had panned out. I was living on borrowed time if that card didn't show.
After breakfast and some morning curling watching on the computer, we headed out to the ferry. The usual carbon-copy ferry crossing occurred - Sea West lounge seat, coffee, cake, leather recliner....
When I got to the Tsawassen Ferry terminal things seemed a little better organised at this time of the day. There was actually an express 620 bus to take me straight to Bridgeport Canada Line station waiting - one of several. I just showed my Olympics ticket and got on. It was quite a nice feeling - this one ticket seemed to get you some respect from people, and a nod from the driver. People who didn't have tickets were always interested in talking about what you'd be seeing, and how they had tried to get tickets and failed, or how they had wished they had tried in the first place. In spite of the obvious burden that an olympics puts onto the host city, everyone seemed to be very warm to it now that it was finally happening.
When I got to King Edward station, I knew not to follow the ridiculous instructions being given by the volunteers to send people all the way down to Manitoba street, and instead chose to walk up the hill to the top of the park and maybe spend the time I had before the match - about an hour - looking around perhaps at the Bloedel conservatory. When I got there, the heat in the bubble was overwhelming and I instead chose to surf the gift shop and take in the powerful fountain outside. I finished up in the gift shop and noticed that it was already 14:05 - the match will have started already, but I wasn't panicked. I made my way to the venue and got in quickly - so much for the security yet again. I did have a pat down this time, but it was utterly pointless - people too polite to even ruffle your jacket. I'd had the same thing twice before now, and found it fairly laughable. Time will tell if I get a more thorough pat down at any of the other events.
This match was a mixture, but no Canadians. I was instead taking an interest in the GB match. There were times when the men's GB team would pull off the right looking shots, but then either get the weight wrong or not provide the curl. This happened in enough cases to make the game seem tight at the beginning, but the brits - who were playing France - won out in the end 9-4. It was strange watching the british match, because Canada aren't playing and as such support for anything generally seemed muted. It was a shame, because of all the places the crowd might support, it would either be the UK or the US.
The curling exited at around 5:15, and I pretty much had to go straight back to the island in order to make sure I didn't get back at an irritatingly late time for Dennett to pick me up. As it stood, I'd likely be back late so when I got to King Edward station and saw the lineup, I decided to get some dinner to give the line up time to quieten down.
So I had dinner by going to Flying Wedge, which is a pizza chain in the City. I found the place reassuringly well laid out, with a huge fridge behind the counter labelled "Food Rotation FIFO". This meant that they had structured the shelves in the fridge so that you could only take the pre-prepared base out of it that had been made the longest ago. I like places that manage their food well. The deal here is you can buy wedges of pizza for around $5 individually, about $9 for two and they had other deals. There is good selection - I went for the Pepperoni, and I was not disappionted at all. The tomato sauce on these pizzas was amongst the best I have tasted in a long time - lots of herbs coming through, and yet a sweet and dark tomatoey flavour to boot. The cheese was a 4 cheese mix, and the pepperoni was absolutely huge slices, and properly meaty yet fall apart. I'd rate the Flying Wedge an 8/10 on Cambie street.
I returned slowly to the station with my pizza, eating it along the way and no doubt making many other people want pizza too.
I got to the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal after 7:30pm, and as such I had to wait for the 9pm ferry. Not the most fun I've ever had. But everywhere I've been on Vancouver's transit system left me feeling safe. I never once felt the irking I sometimes get on say the London tube or on the bus network out here in rural Cambridgeshire. Maybe it is because everyone in at least Vancouver seems to talk to each other ad-infinitum and as such everyone feels more at ease with where they are.... One thing I don't recommend though is buying any of the drinks from the hot drinks machine at the Tsawwassen end of the ferry to Schwartz Bay. It costs $2 and tasted - at least while I was there - as though the machine had a constipation problem in the tube that dispenses the flavouring powder. I can't confirm if this always happens, because I never bought it again.
I got back, and found that UPS had delivered my card. It turned out that they didn't even wait for a signature and had just dumped it on the drawbridge of the house boat. So much for the truly ridiculous pronouncement by mastercard that the thing had to be delivered and signed for.
The next day (18th), we had tickets for the IMAX and went to see a film about the evolution of Cowboys around the world, and then we saw a film about the wildlife in the Serengeti. The IMAX is buried inside the Royal BC Museum in Victoria, which is about 15 minutes walk from Fishermen's Wharf. Also inside the Museum is a very good gift shop, although their prices were typically touristy. They had aboriginal art of various flavours, books on presumably exhibit material and the obligatory Vancouver 2010 Olympics merchandise, which I love to browse through. It really is great way to make money for the support of the Olympics, because everyone wants to take home a piece of memorabilia or the odd souvenir of their trip to remind them of the great time they had while there. For me this was no exception, although my fascination quickly became pins. They had venue pins, mascot pins, landmark pins, sport pins, cultural pins etc. It turns out that there is a huge industry in trading Olympics pins, and people come from all over the world just to collect them and go to places like The Bay to the pin trading market. I won't be participating in this hobby! But I did buy pins that reminded me of my trip - one for each of the sports I watched, one of an umbrella to remind me of the rain, and some from my trips to places, and of course of the mascots.
We wlaked back to the boat in the dark after the IMAX and had food from the excellent Grilligans takeaway at Fishermen's wharf. Come rain or shine, Dave - the proprietor of Grilligans - sells well considered, delicious food. In the time I was there, I had: a turkey salad pita (delicious, with thick layers of turkey, fresh salad, mayonnaise and all was tasty and fresh); His poutine (a classicly French Canadian dish of fries, special gravy and cheese curds. His fries are crispy, and cooked in a special fryer designed to do fries. The gravy is delicious and herby and the cheese curds are large, and soon become deliciously chewy - a recommended dish for warming up on a cold day, or filling a gap in your appetite); And his rib meal (amazingly tender ribs marinated in delicious BBQ sauce, and cooked on his BBQ out on his deck, all served with his fries and coleslaw which Dave makes up fresh on the spot).
On the 19th, my dad arrived and we helped my uncle Dennett pick up a floating dock for his Seadoo from a local shipping company. It was a big plastic box with a dug-out and rollers to lift the hull of the Seadoo out of the water.
The 20th saw my Birthday come around, and we went to Butchart Gardens - a national historic site, which means it is about 100 years old. Canada is such a young country that it's civilised history is really measured in decades, as opposed to the near millenia of Europe and North Africa. The Gardens come in two basic blocks - the sunken garden, and the Japanese garden. The highlight for me was the Japanese garden, which included authentic elements imported from Japan, and provided stunning photographic opportunities even with my compact camera.
When it came around to it,I had a laid back and easy time out on Vancouver island in the middle of an otherwise hectic olympic schedule. I'd never slept on a boat before, and although there was an earth quake on the night of the 19th that disturbed the waters enough to make sleeping difficult, it was a very comfy experience. The only to note about being on such a boat is that they aren't well insulated, so they need to be brought up to temperature before staying inside them. And they also need very specific knowledge of how the boat works in order to be able to bring things like forced air heating and the propane system for the oven up to working order, the prior needing the diesel system and the latter needing some solenoids engaging.
I bought a bag on Sunday the 21st of february to hold all of my purchases on the way back home to the UK and to take the pressure off my back by putting the weight onto the bags wheels, and also got hold of an attractive spread of Canadian Geese made from charred Cedar wood at a local gift store for half price.
See my pictures on picasa for all of these things and more.
I departed from Vancouver island around lunchtime on Monday the 22nd of February for a hectic week of competition, and a different B&B every night (but with no idea where I'd be staying on the night of the 25th).
Sunday, 21 February 2010
12th of Feb continued
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.
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.
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.