Childhood Memories of a Bar

Returning to town after a shopping trip with with my Mom and Aunt Marion, they spotted my Dad driving ahead of us and followed him. He drove away from the usual route home and we followed him to the Log Cabin Bar at the corner of Stoeflet St. and Worth. The log cabin in later years became a market but when I was four years old it was still a bar, a really old fashioned Michigan bar. The two crazy women responsible for me hatched a plan. The told me to run through the bar with my arms outstretched to my Dad crying "Daddy, Daddy, please come home!" 

After giving Dad a couple minutes to settle in, the women pushed me through the bar door for my acting debut. During my high-school years I gave an honest try at acting, joined the drama club to be closer to Kathy B., but found that I was better at, and more comfortable with working backstage. More of a nuts and bolts kind of guy.

I ran across the expanse of dark pine floor, climbed my Fathers bar stool, and was swept up in his arms, sat on his lap and treated to a sip of beer and a salty, smoked salmon jerky, without saying a word. Irene and Marion hovering at the door laughing their heads off.

The Moms left me with Dad and the regulars to enjoy a bit of time with the "guys", and I took in a vanishing snapshot of Michigan  history. The dark pine floor and bar, the log walls, the smell of tabacoo smoke,  beer, and whisky. The company of  men who had crewed on sailing and steam lake boats, who had built wooden ships and had worked in the steel mills, and early auto factories. 

Today of course we would all be put into rehab and counseling, but then it was just a normal part of life.

Classic Rock Movies

Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to wallow in nostalgia. Yes, I love the old tunes of my youth, but I need to keep up with the new in music while not loosing my roots. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Ting Tings, Airbourn Toxic Event, Cœur de pirate, Metric, The Dead Weather, The Dandy Warhols, Gogol Bordello, Pink Mountaintops … the list goes on and on and you can never catch up with all the great music being produced these days.

That being said — when the music of my youth is combined with great film making — the combination of nostalgic tunes and images is a heady brew indeed!

Two movies that create that "heady brew" for me are:

Almost Famous

Writer/director Cameron Crow's semi-autobiographical movie about becoming a rock journalist in his teens in the early '70s. This is a must see coming-of-age-rock-and-roll movie. The soundtrack is awesome and evocative. The picture here is of the band (fictional band Stillwater) hung over, traveling to the next gig, singing along with Elton John to Tiny Dancer. It was a tear jerker for me.

Pirate Radio

The story of one of the ships that anchored off the coast of Briton during the 1960's to broadcast the then banned rock & roll music. It starts out with a scene of a boy going to bed in his pjs, tucking in, and waiting to be sure that his parents are busy with their evening routine (he hears the classic music swell) then he quietly sneaks his transistor radio out of its bedside drawer, puts it under his pillow and tunes in the all night pirate rock station. The scene expands to show kids all over the country covertly rocking out after lights out. Rock music wasn't banned in America, but I was that kid, pretending to be asleep while listening to Rock and MoTown on late night Detroit radio. I could soo relate to it!

My History With Cycling

My History With Cycling

As a small child (about 3 years old) my parents would put me in our little rowing dinghy with my life jacket on, tie me to the boat, tie the boat to the end of our dock with a long rope, and set me adrift to row in circles while they retired to cocktail hour on the lawn. This was the start of my life long love of small boats and rowing. Living on the edge of Lake Erie in a town of islands and canals it wasn't long before I rowed many places in town, to friends homes, to the store, and through the marshes. My Father always contended "If you can't get there by boat, it's not worth going." 

The down-side to this is I didn't learn to ride a bicycle till an advanced age. During the 5th or 6th grade I was rebelling in the class room and was hauled off by the teacher to the store room that was used as a detention room (i.e. torture chamber). I was in trouble and had to find a way out of it so I formulated a quick plan and started crying, and between my sobs, told the story that I was upset about not having a bicycle and what a hardship that was. Rather then being punished I was consoled and taken back to class.

Then, quite surprisingly, a few days later my Dad suggested we go and buy me a bike. I didn't really want a bike, but had to go along with it so as not to blow my cover. We arrived back home with a new, red, two speed Schwinn.  No mention was ever made of the disturbance I caused in the classroom. 

The dinghy and the Schwinn solved my transportation needs till I upgraded at age 14 to a speed boat (Boston Whaler) and hitchhiking. At 16 I still had the Whaler and moved from my thumb to an automobile.

The next time I was seen on a bike was in my mid 20s while living in northern Denmark aboard an old fishing boat. In the harbor town of Fredrikshavn (as everywhere in Denmark) everyone rode bicycles. All ages, all walks of life. The Police patrolled by bikes (if they patrolled at all.) Grandparents wearing clogs, kiddies, fishermen in wooden soled knee high leather sea boots, everyone. I was fascinated by the old cargo bikes which routinely carried all imaginable cargo through town, cases of beer, produce, baked goods, baskets of fresh fish, even scrap iron. I got a bike shortly after arriving. I loved riding around the harbor and town doing errands and searching the trash bins for treasures. 

A few years later, having moved to Cascadia, and living on an island again I worked in a shipyard for two years. Instead of my usual car full of tools to tote around every day all I needed was my lunch as I kept my basic kit of hand tools at the yard. Freed of dependance on the car I found a new way to commute. I would bike a mile to the ferry dock, meet with a friend who kept a Norwegian style færing rowing boat beached there. We would then row the mile across the channel and dock the boat. I kept another bike there which I would ride the 2.5 miles to the shipyard. This went on for a couple of years.

In the late 80's, I — for some reason — took up cycling as recreation. I bought a nice hybrid, half way between road bike and mountain bike and avidly rode it for a number of years. Eventually the head down/ass up position started to hurt my arms shoulders too much and I drifted away from it.

Now, needing more exercise, wanting to take the ferry boat to town for errands, save on ferry fares, avoid the long auto queue, save on gas, and wear & tear on my car, I am getting back on a bike. I am selling my hybrid and getting a Dutch style city bike. See it here at: Republic Bike

I am excited and looking forward to it and that's … well … half the battle!

Trouble by Cat Stevens

Trouble 

Oh trouble set me free 

I have seen your face 

And it's too much too much for me 

Trouble 

Oh trouble can't you see 

You're eating my heart away 

And there's nothing much left of me 

I've drunk your wine 

You have made your world mine 

So won't you be fair 

So won't you be fair 

I don't want no more of you 

So won't you be kind to me 

Just let me go where 

I'll have to go there 

Trouble 

Oh trouble move away 

I have seen your face 

and it's too much for me today 

Trouble 

Oh trouble can't you see 

You have made me a wreck 

Now won't you leave me in my misery 

I've seen your eyes 

and I can see death's disguise 

Hangin' on me 

Hangin' on me 

I'm beat, I'm torn 

Shattered and tossed and worn 

Too shocking to see 

Too shocking to see 

Trouble 

Oh trouble move from me 

I have paid my debt 

Now won't you leave me in my misery 

Trouble 

Oh trouble please be kind 

I don't want no fight 

And I haven't got a lot of time 

Café Post Private Postal System

We've started a cafe/pub private postal system. A Slow Mail — Real Mail way to communicate with friends and future friends.

Check it out at: Cafe Post

Triumphs of Our Era

These old tech books are great. This one was published in 1902. I like the entries in the section "Things We All Should Know" titled "Carbon Black & It's Uses" and "Toilet Preparations From The Tropics". Although very dated, there is still much pertinent information within this tome. Will anyone in 100 years look back at a copy of "The iPod Book: How to Do Just the Useful and Fun Stuff with Your iPod and iTunes" and find anything useful to them?

Power House Mechanic

I love this image, by Lewis Hine — "Power house mechanic working on steam pump," 1920. It looks like an image from a WWI propaganda poster.

These days when we think of "Mechanic" most will think of an "Auto Mechanic", but the archaic meaning is: "a manual laborer or artisan". So basically if you work with your hands, you're a mechanic.

HD iSlate — Just Released

Just released by Hinterland Design, the iSlate. All you need is slate, chalk, glass cleaner, and your imagination! A fraction of the price of an iPad and you can hack it to your heart's content!

Dream Keeper

Paper, leather, elastic, linen, and copper combine to "Hold my dreams and visions tight".

Moss Garden

Deep forest moss. Will it survive my inattention as a house plant? I hope so!

Book Case

At long last, I have finally finished the book case that allows me to get books out of the attic that have been in boxes for four years. Hopefully someone will see it and order one!

My New Favicon

Solow

Gus Has Arrived

The security cameras scanned the great Cathedral, cloister, nave, transept, catacombs and all. Briefly one viewed a seldom seen attic, softly lit by a small unglazed arched window. Gus laid outstretched resting on the cool grey flagstones. Alongside him a long bitted medieval battle axe. The word spread quickly — whispered in hushed tones — Monk to Monk, Nun to Nun, "Gus has arrived … Gus has returned.

Day One - JunoFest

Day One

I enjoy starting a trip by boarding a train. The trip from neighboring Mount Vernon to Vancouver B.C. is almost too short. I sat next to a woman who herself was leaving Guemes Is. for a trip to Vancouver. She is studying in Oregon and lives in Singapore. We enjoyed an interesting and animated conservation for for the two hours. When we compared notes we saw that we were staying in hostels just across the street from one another. Zi was very happy to know we were both going in the same directions and I could help her find her hostel with a minimum of fuss. 

Canadian customs and immigrations was a breeze and the trip by Sky-Train and on foot to the hostels was fun and easy. Two of the high points of an urban adventure, for me, is learning my way around a new city and using (good) public transit. 

My hostel was very nice. My room was on the third floor (that would be the fourth in the U.S. (something to do with the exchange rate.) :-) The third floor is good because it is away from the street and adjacent pub noise. But I wear earplugs when I sleep and can sleep through a lot with them. 

Got settled in and ready to go by noonish and headed to the Yaletown waterfront en route to Granville Island via water taxi. The water taxis are fun, practical, and convenient. The ply their trade on the inaccurately named "False Creek" which cleaves deeply into the heart of the city. It is more accurately a sound then a creek. The water taxis seat 10 – 12 people, out of the weather, and everyone has a great view of the passing cityscape.

Granville Island is full of food, shops, theaters, and galleries. I sat and enjoyed a cup of coco then toured the public market. It was really nice, such an array of beautiful food. I ate a small fillet of smoked mackerel … soo good! Wandering the island I visited a paper shop, a book store, and bought postcards and postage. The Pacific Institute of Culinary Arts is at the isthmus that connects the island to the City. I checked out their dinning room and menu for future reference then got a private tour of the school. 

While returning to the AquaBus ferry dock, I passed a shop with art supplies in the window and as I have a weakness for art supplies I stopped in. The shop turned out to be a paint manufacture and seller. They actually grind their own pigments there! The proprietor, who normally minds the shop was on the phone in the back-room and the woman who is normally in the back room grinding pigment and painting swatch samples was filling in for him. Good luck for me, she was pleasant conversation with her French accent and good nature. I asked if she saw the movie "Girl With The Pearl Earring". She said "yes" and I asked "what colors do you see in the clouds?" She got it … she knew what I meant and laughed. Very cool!

Back in Yaletown I visited a bargain bookseller and bought a long awaited copy of the novel "Stanley Park". A few doors down was my dinner destination "Blue Water Cafe" where I ate good sushi and drank my first Absinthe (odd combination — I know). The sushi menu was limited but what they offered was carefully prepared, fresh, and delicious. The Absinthe was — sadly — wormwood free yet potent and compelling. He served it with the whole flaming sugar cube/water drip thingie. It was a short stager back to the hostel, stopping on the way to recon the nice local food market. 

As I approached the hostel, a man smoking in a darkened doorway stepped towards me and said "Hey mate", it was the roommate I met when I checked in — Dylan. We talked for a minute then retired to the pub he had spent the dinner hour in. We drank beers and visited for an hour or so. I really enjoyed this 22 year old Aussie, we were instantly "mates".

I joined in with Dylan and a group from the hostel for the first leg of a "pub crawl". At that first pub I met a gay couple from Ireland. Nice, 30 somethingish men just arrived in Canada. It was very interesting talking to them about Ireland and what the economic downturn is doing there. The pub crawlers moved on and I retired to a shower and my comfy bunk.

Day Two - CBC Live!

Day Two

I was up by 0930h and that is an easy time to get into the bathroom. Most people traveling that day are long gone and most everyone else is still sound asleep. Actually I never had to wait for a bathroom. Each floor had six to eight private bath/showers that are cleaned every morning and as clean (or cleaner) then my home bathrooms. I don't take much time in the morning because I shower before bed at 0100 – 0200 when there is zero demand for the bathrooms. I had forced myself to wake up and go to the kitchen before 1000h when the "free" breakfast service ended. As is often the case with free breakfasts there is no protean to be found. Cereal, sweet rolls, bread, and fruit. A breakfast like that doesn't fuel me for long before I start feeling light headed. I had a bagel and fruit and with postcards in hand hit the road for the public library. 

For some time now, six or eight blocks of Granville Street, where the hostel is, has been closed to auto traffic and torn up for a face lift in anticipation of next years Olympic games. The temporary side walks are fenced off from the construction and very narrow in front of the shops/clubs and crowded with a flow of people 24/7. A few doors to the north is the cross street Nelson. From Nelson north for two blocks the street construction is halted and the crews are finishing pitching the huge, block long, tents for the WestJet Street Party, part of JunoFest.

I make my way into a new part of downtown where Library Square is. It is hard to miss the Vancouver Library. It looks like a Roman Coliseum and occupies a full city block. Inside and out it is both modern and classical at the same time, plus beautiful and comfortable. After wandering the enclosed court yard looking at the shops and buying a few more postcards I went up a few floors and found a carrel along the glass wall overlooking the court yard and settled in to do some reading and writing.

Hunger finally drove me back to street level where, still within Library Square, I found a little Sushi/Teriyaki cafe bustling with salary-folk. 

Walking across the street to post my mail at the main Post Office then one block and around the corner to the Canadian Broadcasting Corp. building. I wanted to confirm where I would be coming tonight for the live radio show, The Q. I timed my walk back to the hostel and took an hours nap. Quite tired by this time.

Heading out, refreshed by a nap and wash up, I found my way back to the CBC studios and took my place it The Q queue. We were in the line up for 45 minutes but it was no worries because the company there was so interesting to visit with. In front of me was an artist who paints on wood and sells her work primarily to people decorating offices. Her painting is mostly on commission and she is making a good living with it. Imagine that! I was a bit sad when the line started moving and we had to go our own ways to our seats.

Being in the audience while this two hour broadcast was being recorded was way more fun then I imagined it would be. The Q is a weekday morning art, entertainment, and culture radio show. It has performances and interviews by same truly great artists. Within a couple weeks of the show I attended, The Q host Jian Ghomeshi interviewed Bruce Cockburn, Yoko Ono, Gorden Lightfoot, The Ting Tings, and coming soon a two hour interview with Leonard Cohen! On the night I was there guests were Alt Rocker Hawksley Workman, R & B singer Divine Brown, Punk Rocker (my favorite of the evening) Bif Naked, and hard rockers Hot Hot Heat. It was a really fun event and everyone in the standing room only audience was having a great time. Instance of Collective Joy #1.

On my way out I found myself walking abreast of one of the Q guests, the BC Minister for the Arts and Entertainment. We had a brief but interesting conversation as we made our ways down the street. Canadians are soo friendly!

My walk back to Granville Street took my by many eateries. I paused at windows reading menus and comparing prices. You can eat very well in Vancouver, economically. It must be because of so much competition. The weak Canadian dollar (cost me about 82¢ each) helps too. And the variety is great too. So much ethnic food. I saw one place serving poroges, borsch, cabbage, hearty Russian peasant food. The entire staff was Asian :–)

When I arrived near the hostel the street party was in full swing and my wrist band got me into the tent that Hot Hot Heat (who I had just seen at The Q) was playing. After an hour there standing and swaying to the music (Instance of Collective Joy #2) I walked a few blocks to a dance club that had only recorded music but there were places to sit and rest my feet. This place closed early (for this district) and threw us out at 0100h. A bite of sushi before returning to the hostel, then my nightly routine of shower, shave, pack up, and organize my gear for tomorrows departure. I crash about 0230h ish. Thanks to my earplugs I don't even hear Dylan come in at 0530. 

Day Three - New Route Home

Day Three

Friday. I drag myself from sleep around 1000h grab my pack and head to nearby Yaletown in search of some breakfast. Along the way I stop at a "Shoppers Drug Mart" and stock up on "Emergen-Cs" to help fortify my system. Before I know it I am near an Aqua Bus landing so I decide to seek nutrition at the market on Granville Island. A breakfast of (mall quality) sushi sustains me for the next mini-ferry trip to Vanier Park and the Maritime Museum. Good company on the voyage, a woman and child from the hinterland of BC, visiting for the big wine expo. going on for the weekend. She and her husband are vintners and have a booth at the expo. He is manning the booth and she touring the city and keeping their daughter busy. I made a mental note that if I ran out of things to keep myself busy I could visit the expo. and spend the day sampling wine. Can you believe that everyone goes around there spitting the wine out into buckets after they swill it around in their mouths for a few moments‽

I had visited the Maritime Museum many years ago — 18 or 20 — and I must say it has changed very little during the intervening years! A bit of a disappointment really, but felt I needed to try to keep some context with my past I guess.

An hour and a half later saw me boarding the same ferry with the same companions but this time I chose a new ferry landing to disembark. There, I was able to walk a section of one of the extensive waterfront trails that Vancouverites are lucky to enjoy. That lead me to a new route to the hostel and a better understanding of the lay of the land. A light drizzle began a couple of blocks from my destination, the first bit of rain while here.

Refreshed and hungry after a good nap, I headed out for a night on the town. I had sighted an interesting looking cafe a half block away so returned there to look at the menu. Warmly greeted by the owner I bellied up to the bar and checked out their tapas menu. Deuce Bungalow, Spanglish Cantina is very slick, hip cafe with a friendly staff and great food. I arrived happy hour-ish and most of the tapas and some entrees were two for one. So for 10CD I got two tapas on each plate a bed of rice of fish and chicken tacos. Four large tacos made a big dinner for me! Very good and professionally presented! All for about 8.20 USD!! It was also the first place I found a really good beer selection and something I really wanted to drink, a true Belgium Ale! Most of the pubs served a brewed pablum.

Finally sated, I made my way across the street to the street party tent just as the band The Grey Medium began playing. I listened to them for their set. I decided since my destination — Pub 340 — in Gastown was more of a walk then I was up to, I would take my first cab ride of the trip.

As so often is the case, I was unfashionably early and had to sit around drinking lame Canadian beer for an hour or so till things started picking up and the bands arrived. On the up side I got a great seat at the bar and kept it through the three bands I wanted to see. My stool was next to the open spot in the bar where people lean to order their drinks so I was able to talk a few moments with quite a few people. There was one early 20-ies chick (legal age in BC is 18) who could not have weighed over 95 lb. who, in three hours drank enough to put a sumo wrestler in a coma! I commented on it to one of her companions saying "someone's going to have to carry her out of here in a bag" and the companion said "I know her well, we play soccer together, she drinks like that and hardly slurs her words!" I would have been barfing all over the place! One of the bands The Grey Medium was one of the ones I saw at the street party earlier. 

A cab ride home with a Russian driver and a short but interesting conversation about the difficulty pursuing his artistic dreams while trying to afford to raise his two kids … driving an all night cab while dreaming of the paintings he longs to create. A late night snack at the all night sushi place next door and tuck into bed about 0200h. Sweet dreams!

Day Four - City Tour

Day Four

Saturday, I remove my earplugs and check the clock, 1000h again, must get moving or I will miss the day. Crawl out of sack, wash up and as is my habit my pack is ready to go and I hit the road. 

My first stop is the Templeton Diner, "Good Food — Snappy Service" reads the sign. I spotted it a day or two before, a half block from the hostel, a narrow old fashioned greasy spoon … or so I thought. It looks like the latest remodel was done in 1963, stainless steel on the long counter, wall mounted juke boxes in the booths, black and white checked lino floor. I expected to look in the window and see a bunch of burnt-out old men with cigarets hanging out of their mouths. But to my surprise the clientele looked clean, awake, and like they were enjoying themselves! I made a mental note to return and so I did that morning.

Seated at the counter I perused the great contemporary menu selection and couldn't resist the:

Mangled Eggs

real or veggie bacon, 3 eggs scrambled, Montreal brie

inside a toasted croissant, side rosemary potatoes - 7.8

The eggs are local and organic and the price is Canadian Dollars so that's about 6.3 USD! The food and price was great, and I adored the waitress … a good start to the day!

My plan for the day was to ride around town on the Vancouver Trolley, a fleet of dolled up old fashonie looking tourist buses. They do an extensive tour of the city, Downtown, Westend, Stanley Park, English Bay, Kitsalano, Granville Island, Yaletown, Chinatown, Gastown, and back to Downtown. Many stops along the way and they run on a 40 minute schedule. You can get on and off anytime, anywhere for two days for the price of the one ticket. Normally I would avoid such a touristy thing but it was a great way to spend a drizzly day and get to and from Stanley Park and my goal, the Aquarium. The trolley boarded near the hostel and I was one of the few people aboard. The driver is compelled to keep up a monologue of bits of information about the city. During the course of my trip I traveled with three different drivers, all varying in their level of corniness and dumb jokes. Driver one was pretty straight forward. With him I traveled to Stanley Park and hopped off at the Aquarium. My hour and a half at the Aquarium was a real waste of time and money. It was way crowded with students all of who had clip boards and were on some form of a scavenger hunt (which is a cool thing to do) but there were so many of them that all the interpretive information was covered with clip boards and students writing mini-essays! 

I only had to wait 5 or 10 minutes for another trolley and I was off again around the huge and beautiful Stanley Park. This time my fellow passengers were a middle aged Japanese couple with zero grasp of English. So the cornball driver was addressing his monologue only to me. After a few miles he realized that I was not very receptive to his corny jokes and for a few miles further we talked about real and meaningful things. It turned out that we both have minor phobias about walking around moving trains and have reoccurring dreams about it. The Japanese couple remained, seemingly clueless, smiling and nodding the whole time. Finally, at the Granville Island stop a young, newly wed couple from So-Cal boarded and our driver lapsed back into his shtick, which was centered around jokes about his ex-wife and mother-in-law. He seemed to be making the best of what could be seen as an embarrassing, loser job, and it made me reflect on my feelings about my own embarrassing, loser job, giving out sausage samples at Costco and be glad that I only do that 2–4 days a month. What would it be like if that was the only thing you had?

Just before my stop there was another driver change (coffee break for driver #2) and I was dropped at the place I started. It was nice to have spent the rainy day in a warm, dry bus seeing the city.

Refreshed by an hours nap, I took my book, journal, postcards, and writing tools and spent some time in the commons room reading and writing. It was there that I started thinking about what to do with my trolley ticket as it was good for the next day and a shame to waste it. I made up a small sign to hang with the ticket an the bulletin board near the front desk but finally rejected the idea because it was so random and no one may see it before it expired. So I decided instead to ask around and see if anyone wanted it. About that time a bright face across the room smiled big at me so I chatted her up. Albina is from Russia, Siberia actually, and studying english at one of the schools in Vancouver that specializes in English as a second language. She wants to improve her very rudimentary English so she can work in the hospitality industry in Russia. I am very patient when speaking to someone with difficulty speaking English but even at that I was doubting that Albina was getting the jest of how the trolley operated. The stumbling point seemed to be her understanding that you could get on and off anytime for the whole day. Part way through the conversation her roommate joined us, and her English was better but before we got much further my roomy Dylan joined in and we had plans to have a bite and beer so we said our good-byes to the Russians. As we left Albina asked when I leave. I told her I'd be checking out at 1100h the next day and she said "hope to see you in the morning".

Dylan and I had tapas and Belgium Ale at Deuce Bungalow and talked a lot. We went our own ways and I returned to my room to get ready for the evenings entertainment. There was a new roommate when I arrived — Peter, a guy about my age from Amsterdam who was visiting friends across North America, traveling by train and bus and staying in hostels. I told him of my life long dream of visiting The Netherlands and of a favorite author of mine who was Dutch. Nice guy Peter, and interesting talking to him.

I was still doubtful that Albina would be able to figure out the trolley tomorrow so an inquiry at the desk got me her room number and I taped a note on her door offering to help her get aboard the trolly in the morning.

It was after dark and I headed for the club Richard's on Richard's, only 3 blocks away. I was early of course but got a good stool on the main floor and soon it started filling up and the first band played. Kind of folkie rock, a bit soft but good. A few people dancing. Then the next band started setting up and I decided to move up to the mezzanine for a better view. This club is really big four bars and a lots of places to sit and lean. I found a place at the railing which had a surface to balance a drink on and the band started their first tune. Shout Out, Out, Out is a hmm … hard rock teckno sensitizer?? band. Great dancing music. Part way through the first song I looked along the long expanse of the mezzanine railing and all those people were stand stock still, hardly even wiggling with the music! Looking down at the main dance floor, large and full of people, I noticed that most people there were not doing much better, wiggling a bit and maybe moving their feet a bit. But along the edge of the stage, about 10 foot deep, people were really jumping around dancing! And they were all woman! I realized instantly I was in the wrong place! Downed my beer, ran down the steps, bored my through the crowd to the edge of the stage, through my sweater on a speaker covered with jackets and purses and danced hard for an hour or so! It was great and exactly what I needed, the music was hard driving and organ quivering loud, close enough to the speakers that the hair on my arms was standing on end. A hundred sweating woman — the air was so full of pheromones you could have cut it with a knife! It was great!!

After the show I tried to get into another club but they were full so I wandered Granville Street for a while people watching, had a midnight snack at all night sushi place (open 5pm – 5am every night) and hit the sack early (0100h) in anticipation of a long trip home tomorrow.

Day Five - Home Again

Day Five

Sunday. Up and about by 0900h. Breakfast at the Templeton. Return to the hostel and stop at the can on the way to my room. As I step out of the can, I see someone in a heavy coat stepping into the elevator and think nothing of it. I open my room door and Peter looks up from his packing and says "Did the Russian woman find you?". I run down to the main floor and there is Albina trying to communicate with the hostel staff about how to use a telephone calling card. We talk and she is happy for the offer of help getting aboard the trolley and is looking forward to a city tour on this bright, beautiful Pacific Northwest Day!

We walk to the trolley stop, I learn a little Russian while we wait, and the trolley arrives. A matronly driver assures me that she will "take good care of her" and even speaks a bit of Russian. Albina is very excited as they drive away.

I check out by 1100h but am now carrying not only my pack but my small duffel bag and I hate carrying extra baggage! I walk to the Sky-Train station, figure out the ticket kiosk, and take the Sky-Train to the Amtrak station. There I check my bag for a couple bucks and hop back on Sky-Train to the Downtown Waterfront station.

I wander this — new to me — part of the city in the chilly air and brilliant sunshine. I have a delicious hot chocolate at a coffee cafe, tour an upscale market "Urban Fare" where I sample and buy some cheese plus some smoked fish and a beverage for a picnic.

I picnicked on a park bench on a section of the "Seawall Walk" a miles long trail around the city and Stanley Park. Lovers walking hand in hand, cyclists, rollerbladers, kiddies in strollers, everyone was out enjoying the great weather an the view of the snowcapped peaks across Burrard Inlet.

I trekked east, Downtown turned into Gastown, Gastown into Chinatown where I stopped in a couple shops and marveled at all the exotic food stuffs along the streets. I toured the free part of a Chinese garden then ate dim sum at the Floata Seafood Palace.

In no rush, I made my way to the train station where I collected my bag and sat and read my book "Stanley Park" till boarding time. It is set in Vancouver, a few years ago, parallel stories of a young chef trying to make a mark for himself and his father, an anthropologist living with and studying the homeless in Stanley Park.

The sun set during the train ride south. I ended up in the lounge car talking to a group of woman and laughing a lot. I knew we had stopped at Bellingham and it suddenly seemed like that had been a very long time ago and I had this dreadful feeling that I had spaced out and missed my stop. I quickly excused myself and dashed to my seat and started scanning the nighttime scenery for some familiar landmark. Within a few minutes we were slowing and they announced my stop. Disaster averted! Home again!

Word Clouds

This is a "Word Cloud" I created at Wordle Fun and easy and great results!