This morning started with a visit to the car rental place in Vancouver. It reinforced the notion that you can be given the address and still not find the place. It happened in Washington where it was hiding in the back of the main railway station, and it happened again in Vancouver when it was hidden inside a hotel.
We simply walked straight past it. Pity there wasn’t a sign to let people know.
However…
We went in expecting a Grand Jeep Cherokee and walked out with a Ford Flex, suitable for three people and four large suitcases. It actually seats 7, but forget the baggage, you’d be lucky to get two large suitcases in that configuration.
It is more than adequate for our requirements.
Things to note, it was delivered with just over a quarter of a tank of gas, and it had only done about 11,000 km, so it’s relatively new. It’s reasonably spacious, and when the extra seats are folded down, there is plenty of baggage space.
So far, so good.
We finally leave the hotel at about half-past ten, and it is raining. It is a simple task to get on Highway 1, the TransCanada Highway, initially, and then onto Highway 5, the Coquihalla Highway for the trip to Kamloops.
It rains all the way to the top of the mountain, progress hampered from time to time by water sprays from both vehicles and trucks. The rain is relentless. At the top of the mountain, the rain turns into snow and the road surface to slush. It’s 0 degrees, but being the afternoon, I was not expecting it to turn to ice very quickly.
On the other side of the mountain, closer to Kamloops, there was sleet, then rain, then nothing, the last 100kms or so, in reasonably dry conditions.
Outside Kamloops, and in the town itself, there was evidence of snow recently cleared, and slushy roads. Cars in various places were covered in snow, indicating the most recent falls had been the night before.
We’re staying at the Park Hotel, a heritage building, apparently built in the later 1920s. In the style of the time, it is a little like a rabbit warren with passages turning off in a number of directions, and showing it is spread across a number of different buildings.
It has the original Otis elevator that can take a maximum of four passengers, and a sign on the wall that says “no horseplay inside the elevator” which is a rather interesting expression that only someone of my vintage would understand. And, for those without a sense of humor, you definitely couldn’t fit a horse in it to play with.
The thing is, how do you find a balance between keeping the old world charm with modern day expectations. You can’t. Some hotels try valiantly to get that balance. Here, it is simply old world charm, which I guess we should be grateful for because sooner rather than later it’s going to disappear forever.
In my writer’s mind, given the importance of the railways, this was probably a thriving place for travelers and once upon a time, there were a lot more hotels like this one.
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. He was looking very benign before he left.
Now I can’t find him.
Anywhere.
He’s in none of the usual hiding spots.
He’s not hiding under any of the beds.
He’s not hiding in any of the cupboards.
I’m worried.
He’s planning something. It might be my demise. I’m still trying to figure out what he could gain from my death. Not having to listen to me reading chapters of my books?
That, to him, might be a blessing.
I found a magazine on the floor open at an article entitled, ‘Ways to check if your spouse is trying to kill you’.
It’s got me doubly worried now.
I saw him on the kitchen bench near my coffee cup.
How hard could it be for him to dip his paw into some poison or other and then put it in my coffee cup?
That expressionless expression gives him away.
It’s what he’s not saying that’s telling me everything.
Behind that bland face, there’s the heart of a plotter, plotting something bigger than blowing up parliament by Guy Faulks.
I’m going to keep a very close eye on him. Very, very close.
Firstly, of course, means definitely so, and can be said when a revelation is realised, or sarcastically if the answer is obvious.
Then there’s a course, like a golf course where people chase a small usually white ball, sometimes to be found on a fairway, but more often than not in a bunker, in the water, or in the thicket.
It’s meant to be calming, but I’m betting more than one heart attack has been brought on by a slice, a six shot bunker exit, or any more than three putts on the green.
There’s also mini golf courses, less challenging, sometimes.
That course could also be the part of a creek or a river.
It can be a set of classes that makes up a course, I did a course in English literature
Then, rather topically, over the course of the election there was [you fill in the rest]
Then there’s my favourite, a four course dinner
Or when I’m unwell a course of antibiotics.
And lastly, in a supermarket how often does the trolley in front of you unexpectedly and randomly change course?
This is not to be confused with coarse
Which to be honest can be used sometimes to describe people who swear or are abrupt. They were coarse people, that is unrefined. These people often use coarse language and tell course jokes, meaning crude and offensive
It had a coarse texture, ie it was rough not smooth
And then there’s Corse which is not exactly an English word, but can refer to a corpse or dead body.
Staying at Hampton Inn and Suites downtown, whatever that means because it looks like we are in the middle of nowhere.
But, judging by the crowd in the breakfast room, it’s a popular hotel. Of course, it is Sunday morning so this could be the weekend escape people.
Two things I remember about staying in Hampton Inns is firstly the waffles and whipped butter. It’s been five years but nothing has changed, they are as delicious as ever. The other, its where I discovered vanilla flavored milk for coffee, and it, too, is addictive.
They also used to have flat burgers that were made out of sausage meat which was delicious, but on the first day, they were not on the menu.
Nevertheless, it was still a very yummy breakfast.
After some research into where we might find this pixmi unicorn, it appears that it is available at a ‘toys are us’ store in one of the suburbs of Vancouver. So, resuming the quest, we took a taxi to West Broadway, the street the store is located.
A quick search of the store finds where the toys we’re looking for are, after asking one of the sales staff, and we find there are at least a dozen of them. Apparently, they are not as popular in Canada as the might be in America. Cheaper too, because the exchange rate for Canadian dollars is much better than for American dollars. Still, 70 dollars for a stuffed toy is a lot of money.
We also get some slime, stuff that our middle granddaughter seems to like playing with.
After shopping we set off down West Broadway, the way we had come, looking for a taxi to return us to the hotel. There’s no question of walking back to the hotel.
A few hours later we walk to the observation tower, which was not very far from the hotel,
a place where we could get a 360-degree view of the city of Vancouver although it was very difficult to see any of the old buildings because they were hidden by the newer buildings, nor could we see the distant mountains because of the haze.
After leaving the tower we walked down Water Street to see the steam clock and the old world charm of a cobbled street and old buildings
We stopped at the Spaghetti Factory Italian restaurant for dinner and is so popular that we have to wait, 10 minutes to start with. It doesn’t take all that long to order and have the food delivered to the table. Inside the restaurant, there is an actual cable car but we didn’t get to sit in it.
I have steak, rare, mushrooms, and spaghetti with marinara sauce. No, marinara doesn’t mean seafood sauce but a very tasty tomato-based sauce. The steak was absolutely delicious and extremely tender which made it more difficult to cut with a steak knife.
The write up for the marinara sauce is, ‘it tastes so fresh because it is made directly from vine-ripened tomatoes, not from concentrate, packed within 6 hours of harvest. We combine them with fresh, high-quality ingredients such as caramelised onions, roasted garlic and extra virgin olive oil’.
Oh, and did I mention they have a streetcar right there in the middle of the restaurant
I’m definitely going to try and make this when we get home.
After dinner, we return to the observation tower, the ticket allowing us to go back more than once, and see the sights at night time. I can’t say it was all that spectacular.
Another day has gone, we are heading home tomorrow.
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. He’s having a hard to trying to understand the notion of a day happening only once every four years.
I try to explain to him that it’s the fault of the Romans getting the calendar wrong.
He tosses that aside and mutters, Time is irrelevant.
How so? OK, I have to bite, because I’m sure I’m about to get a catlike pearl of wisdom.
It comes and it goes, and if it wasn’t for the fact there was night and day, you’d have absolutely no idea what time it is.
About to dismiss it as crazy, I stop to think about it.
And, damn him, he’s right.
Of course, one could argue semantics, and say if I was outside, I could approximate the time by the sun, or at night by the stars, but that’s a little beyond the cat’s imagination.
So, in a sense, you might be right, but I can usually guess what the time is.
Chester shakes his head.
You’re retired, time is irrelevant for you too. You can sleep all day and work at night if you want to. Or not do anything at all.
Like you?
Another shake of the head.
What is the point in having a serious discussion with you? But just one question before I go?
That’ll be interesting.
Was I born on the 29th of February?”
No. Not that lucky, I’m afraid. Why?
If I was I would have no reason to feel every one of those 18 human years I’ve had to put up with your nonsense. It would only be 4 and a half.
He jumps off the seat and heads out the door.
Where are you going now?
To bed. It’s been a long morning.
You’ve only been here 10 minutes.
In your time. In cat time, it feels like hours. Only call me if you see a mouse.
It’s always a given that whatever city you stay in unless it’s overnight, you go on a tour and see the sights.
Even when you’re staying a short distance from the city, you may make the effort to catch a train or bus, then get on the hop on hop off tour. There’s always one in just about every city you visit.
Vancouver was no exception.
Except…
We arrived in the rain, went to sleep while the rain came down, woke up to the rain, and a heavy dose of jet lag or perhaps it was more that we had spent 24 and a half hours traveling from Brisbane to Vancouver via Shanghai.
We had an excellent view out the window of our room looking towards the shopping mall, and the steady falling rain.
I felt sorry watching the construction workers on the building site that was the main vista we had to look at.
It could have been worse. Endless mountains with snow on them.
What to do. Venture out in the rain and go on the tour, on pop over to the shopping mall and pick up a few boxing day bargains, no, sorry, boxing week bargains.
We have had some experience going on hop on hop off tours in open-top buses in the rain. And the last time was not a pleasant experience, even though we learned a valuable lesson, not to stand in front of a cannon and yell ‘fire’. Apparently, that’s how Admiral Nelson lost his arm.
But…
The shopping mall won.
We’d wait and see if the weather improved. Hang on, isn’t Vancouver near Seattle and doesn’t it rain 300 days of the year?
Not holding my breath.
I feel sorry for the construction workers again. Still raining, still cold, and still no reason to get out of bed.
Day 2 in Vancouver turned out to be the same as day 1.
Hang on, there’s a development.
We’re on the 16th floor and up at those lofty heights, we can see not only the rain but intermingled with it a few flakes of snow.
Whilst we procrastinate about what we’re going to do, the snowflakes increase into small flurries.
Yep, we’re off to the mall again and go for a walk in the snow.
On the way back we drop into the Boston Pizza, which has a sports bar and there you can sit, drink, eat, and watch the ice hockey, or whatever sort is going at the time.
Today it’s a junior ice hockey tournament, but Canada was not playing. Just the same, a long cold beer and ice hockey? How close to heaven is that?
I can now cross that off the bucket list.
Day 3, we’re going on a great rail journey, well, we are going to get the train to the city and collect the rental car, a car on the booking form that was supposedly a Jeep Grand Cherokee or similar.
Of course, ‘or similar’ are the words to be feared here because in truth the rental company can throw anything at you, so long as it matches the brief, three people and three large suitcases.
And, you guessed it…
The ‘or similar’ got us a Fort Flex.
Sounded like some place where exhausted soldiers were fending of the Indians in a last ditch battle.
Perhaps one or two too many American movies I think.
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. We’ve just got the news that our granddaughters’ dog had been taken to the vet.
It’s serious.
But it’s a dog, Chester mutters. Perhaps I should get sick…
Don’t tell me you’re feeling unloved again.
He sits on my desk, again, giving me the steely-eyed look.
This is about the litter again, isn’t it?
We changed his litter for a cheaper brand. For some reason, it’s getting more expensive to keep a cat, and the usual brand of litter jumped to nearly double what it was when we first bought it.
He just sticks his nose in the air and refuses to answer.
Well, I’m sorry, but we must economize.
Perhaps then you could use a cheaper brand of toilet paper.
OK, where did that come from?
Four-ply luxury while I get shredded paper.
He jumps off the desk and walks off, but not before saying, this isn’t over.
I can see this is going to be another test of wills.
Well, I know a lot about long haul, because living in Australia it’s a long, long way to anywhere in the northern hemisphere, in what is known as a long haul airline.
For the rest, haul means to pull a load along with effort or force.
Or a haul can be the plunder of a thief, stolen goods. It can be something different though, but generally lots of something taken away, such as fish.
You can haul yourself up the side of a hill, or up a cliff face
And for those who are nautically minded, and love sailing boats, you’ll know to haul offshore
If you’re an Olympian, you’ll know that seven medal haul was always going to be an uphill task.
This is not to be confused with hall, what you walk down in a building heading to a particular room.
Or it can be the name of a stately residence or building, for instance Toad Hall.
It can also be a university room where students are housed.
