Rewind to Vancouver

On 27 January 2006 I entered Canada at Vancouver. The flight itself was interesting, I met a young family from Terasse, near Prince Rupert (way up north on the Western side of Canada) and they (apart from being curious as to why I wasn't going to be based in Whistler ski town with the rest of the Aussies) were very kind to me. My cold was fairly well established and more problems with trying to communicate my need for gluten-free food were unsuccessful with the Air Canada staff. My airfare seemed to have primarily gone into jet fuel and the unwise choice of them screening a Kevin Costner movie (something forgettable about him being a legendary rescue swimmer- "what, Waterworld wasn't enough?" and trying to turn Ashton Kutcher into a new Top Gun). I want those 2 hours of my life back...

Arrived Vancouver to find that I needed to go through immigration before collecting my bags. Obviously I was going to have to face the Canadian officials without a supply of explorer socks and a new toothbrush. They were armed and in bulletproof vests. I don't think the toothbrush would've helped boost my confidence anyway, and I was a little dazed and tired from my cold and fasting for more than 16 hours. On the upside, my passport, a few cursory questions and showing my letter of introduction was sufficient. They did not seem interested in my proof of bank balance. So whilst looking scary, they were all bark and absolutely gummy bite.

The time zone change from Hawaii was 2 hrs. I arrived too late for the airporter bus and found myself stepping out of the airport into a peasouper fog that would rival the best Miss Marple novel. A mysterious Iranian taxi driver took me into downtown and despite my misgivings about his appearance and peculiar smell, he was kind to me and pointed out various parts of the neighbourhood on the way in. His one piece of advice about Vancouver, "Don't try the pizza or the hot dogs". He didn't explain why. Sounded ominous.

We emerged from the fog to arrive at the downtown hostel to find a line of sexy young Vancouverians lining up for a nightclub. Confusing. I was assured by the driver that the hostel was sandwiched between a pub and a nightclub so to have fun sleeping. I was watched by about 30 people as I struggled with my luggage on the pavement to only hear a strong American accent, "Ohmigod ! That was sooo me 2 days ago." The door was kindly opened for me and I went in. One of the distinct advantages of having reached a certain age without looking a certain age and travelling the world twice before is that I can look like Dorothy who has just arrived from Kanzas but actually not give a damn.

This time I had reached my objective. I had arrived in Canada and unlike arriving in Hawaii, I was fairly certain that I wouldn't be confronted by gerriatrics once I made it to my room.

Interesting experience with Vancouver police 2 hours after arriving. Went for a late night walk, one block down and 2 blocks up Granville St (downtown) in search of food after arrival only to find that I was not going to fit on the same street corner as dozens of people drunk and waiting for the lights to cross. Traffic was backed up at a standstill. I scooted across the road only to be shouted at by 3 burly police officers who had materialised out of nowhere, "You! That's a one- hun-dred- dol-lar fine for jaywalking !! One- zero-zero!!!". I pleaded ignorance and got off. I was hoping for a full 24 hours before my first brush with the law, but there you go.