Bienvenue a Vancouver!
After a pleasant flight, which included a dumb sandwich, a viewing of Spiderman 2, and lots of mountains out the window . . .
. . . a three hour wait in customs and immigration, a brief scare about my work permit, and then a friendly pet inspection lady who wished she had a treat to give Ivan because she liked him so much . . .
. . . a stop at the money changer where I found out that Canadian bills have gotten far more colorful than when I was in the country last. They look like Euros, and they have owls and ducks and a boat full of scary Northwestern Indian gremlin-looking animals rowing along with a funny-hat-wearing dude in the middle, and one of the animals is chewing on the funny hat dude's shield and a monkey looking one has his hand in a bird looking one's mouth. And the $5 bill (are you ready, Kelley? Sit down before you read this) has HOCKEY PLAYERS ON IT. Indeed. What a happy place.
. . . a stop by the Burger King in the airport where Ivan graciously ate some of the food I'd brought along in his Outward Hound food pack, and I ate a fish sandwich and took a picture of Poutine on the menu for Kelley. I got a free berry pie (the fried pies here are blueberry+raspberry instead of apple or cherry! Oh my god I love this place! And they have veggie burgers at Burger King too!) . . . Um . . . as I was saying . . . a free berry pie because the cranky little Chinese woman in the back told the girl up front that she'd already made enough fish sandwiches and didn't want to make any more, and the girl up front kept apologizing to me in broken English and begging for her to make my sandwich — apparently the girl felt bad and gave me the free pie.
. . . a ride in a taxi cab, in which the cab driver offered Ivan a spot to sit and then asked me what kind of animal he is. We listened to Indian music on the drive to the hotel. Ivan got carsick but didn't throw up. We passed tons of signs in Chinese, and tons of signs in French+English, and lots of Asians, and a few other people, and a Baptist Church and a United Church of Canada (which seems to be some weird twist on Methodism), both of which offered services in Chinese.
. . . checking into the hotel, where the front desk people treated me like a king since I may be staying here so long, and they brought a special bed for Ivan to lie on if he wants, and they showed us our room on the 18th floor, where we have a spectacular view of the harbor and mountains. The seaplane dock is right across the street from us, where seaplanes take off and land about every 15 minutes. There's an Esso gas station literally floating out in the harbor, on some kind of barge, and boats pull up and a little dude runs out and fills them up — I haven't seem him wash their windows yet, though. The room is shaped like a quarter circle, with windows all along the arc side, and the panoramic view, as I said, is spectacular. Have I told you about the view? Yeah.
. . . showing Ivan a temporary spot in the bathroom while I asked the people at the front desk where I could buy pet supplies. The front desk girl ("You're going to be here for a while, so consider me family, okay?") gave me a map with all kinds of things circled on it, including her house. I think there must be something in the way I speak that does it — I don't know — it's freaking me out. Anyway, I took a field trip from my hotel at Hastings and Thurlow, past the Accenture office at Georgia and Thurlow, right on Davies street in the West End, which I realized once I was there is the Vancouver gay district, so it was replete with colorful restaurants, sex shops, and bars (one in particular called The Pumpjack had a waiting line out into the street), and finally stopped in a 24 hour grocery to buy Ivan a litterbox, some litter, some food, a scoop, a $5 umbrella (before I realized there was a very nice complimentary one in my room closet), and a roll of special Canadian Mentos with a label in both French and English (Tommy, if you're nice I'll send you a roll of your own). Then I paid for it all with my colorful money, and walked the 10 blocks back past The Pumpjack, past the colorful restaurants and bars and sex shops, turned the corner where the three Greek restaurants were all right next to each other, and back up Thurlow to the hotel again. Along the way, I saw exactly one guy smoking a cigarette walking down the sidewalk (if you don't count a biker bar that had a smoking patio), and exactly one guy rolling a joint walking down the sidewalk, so the tobacco to marijuana ratio is a very statistically unreliable (thus far) 50%, which about matches what I'd read somewhere. Also along the way I walked in front of a Japanese family in which the father was attempting to teach his teenage kids how to say, in a very John Wayne-san accent, "Git yer hands off mah banana!"
. . . coming back up to the room, where Ivan spotted the brand new litterbox with teary longing eyes, and where I let him do his thing (from which he'd been very conscientiously refraining all day long) in the privacy of the bathroom. Ivan then came out to give the room a good exploring and realized he can lie on the bed and still see the water. He's already a big fan of boats, seaplanes, and seagulls.
. . . and finally, a couple of hours to chill out and rest in the hotel, try out the high speed internet, and wait for my coworker who's taking me to dinner at 8pm when his flight gets in.
Um, let me see, other random observations. . . .
So many signs in English + French, Chinese, Japanese.
So many people speaking English, Chinese, Japanese (haven't run into any French speakers, so I'm reasonably certain that all the French signs are simply to convince the Quebecoise to come here on vacation).
Tons of tiny restaurants.
It was about 50 degrees F this afternoon, but was really pleasant, and I was happy in my jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket. So far I think I'm the only person in Canada with a leather jacket, though, so I felt a little weird. Lots of people were wearing toboggan hats and sweaters already, though. You'd think I would be the one freezing.
The mountains to the north already have quite a bit of snow on them. I need to check when skiing season starts. There are two snowboard shops within a block or two of my hotel, so this is definitely a gig I need to get in on. I think a season pass to Grouse Mountain (30 minutes from downtown) is about $350, so I'd be silly to pass it up, eh?
Um, I'm trying to think if there's anything else. The floating gas station concept still really messes with my head (a Chevron station floated up out of nowhere while I was writing this — I swear it wasn't there 10 minutes ago).
There are so many restaurants here — the Falafel Hut, the Shawarma Hut, Thai restaurants, a Mexican restaurant (looked like they did okay on that one, even), a ton of sushi bars, a ton of Chinese places, New York pizza, burgers, a European French Fry restaurant (whatever that means — maybe they leave off the gravy and add extra mayo), and, uh, a lot more that I can't remember right off hand.
I've got my work clothes all laid out for tomorrow.
They misspelled my first name on my work permit and said my employment town is Burnaby rather than Vancouver (which, indeed, is where I'll be physically working most of the time, but not where I'll be based), but, if I'm fortunate, that won't matter too much. I think the point is that I have it and I can apply for a SIN number and they won't boot me out of here for 3 years unless I lose my job.
There's a big red armchair which Ivan has claimed for his own.
Oh, and the air is so clean here it feels like an oxygen tent.
And there were rainbows all around when the plane was landing.
I think that's all.
. . . a three hour wait in customs and immigration, a brief scare about my work permit, and then a friendly pet inspection lady who wished she had a treat to give Ivan because she liked him so much . . .
- Immigration also included, by the way, a Japanese guy in the line, who, after successfully working with a translator to get his paperwork all settled also utterly confused both the translator and the immigration agent by asking about some kind of food, indicated by the translator saying, "French fries? He says he wants french fries with something." "Poutine?" asked the immigration agent. "Poutine?" asked the translator. A frantic nod came from the guy. "Ah, so, yeah, try the, uh, Burger King right out there, ya," pointed the immigration agent. "[something in Japanese]" pointed the translator. Off ran the Japanese guy. "You like it, poutine?" asked the translator. "Never tried it. Looks kinda gross, ya know?" responded the immigration agent. Ding went the bell for the next person in line to step up to their booth.
Immigration also included a man from Hong Kong with his wife and daughter who unsuccessfully tried to convince the immigration agent that his daughter was Canadian even though she was born in Hong Kong. They were nearly deported.
Immigration also also included a cool guy from Orlando, FL, and a cool woman and 5 year old daughter from Santiago, Chile, the Chilean suspecting they were sent through Immigration because she had stayed back in Chile too long, but the poor Floridan having absolutely no idea why he was required to endure the three hour ordeal simply for a 5 day Vacation stay in Vancouver with no customs declarations or anything. He was in line in front of me, and left customs at the exact same time that I did.
. . . a stop at the money changer where I found out that Canadian bills have gotten far more colorful than when I was in the country last. They look like Euros, and they have owls and ducks and a boat full of scary Northwestern Indian gremlin-looking animals rowing along with a funny-hat-wearing dude in the middle, and one of the animals is chewing on the funny hat dude's shield and a monkey looking one has his hand in a bird looking one's mouth. And the $5 bill (are you ready, Kelley? Sit down before you read this) has HOCKEY PLAYERS ON IT. Indeed. What a happy place.
. . . a stop by the Burger King in the airport where Ivan graciously ate some of the food I'd brought along in his Outward Hound food pack, and I ate a fish sandwich and took a picture of Poutine on the menu for Kelley. I got a free berry pie (the fried pies here are blueberry+raspberry instead of apple or cherry! Oh my god I love this place! And they have veggie burgers at Burger King too!) . . . Um . . . as I was saying . . . a free berry pie because the cranky little Chinese woman in the back told the girl up front that she'd already made enough fish sandwiches and didn't want to make any more, and the girl up front kept apologizing to me in broken English and begging for her to make my sandwich — apparently the girl felt bad and gave me the free pie.
. . . a ride in a taxi cab, in which the cab driver offered Ivan a spot to sit and then asked me what kind of animal he is. We listened to Indian music on the drive to the hotel. Ivan got carsick but didn't throw up. We passed tons of signs in Chinese, and tons of signs in French+English, and lots of Asians, and a few other people, and a Baptist Church and a United Church of Canada (which seems to be some weird twist on Methodism), both of which offered services in Chinese.
. . . checking into the hotel, where the front desk people treated me like a king since I may be staying here so long, and they brought a special bed for Ivan to lie on if he wants, and they showed us our room on the 18th floor, where we have a spectacular view of the harbor and mountains. The seaplane dock is right across the street from us, where seaplanes take off and land about every 15 minutes. There's an Esso gas station literally floating out in the harbor, on some kind of barge, and boats pull up and a little dude runs out and fills them up — I haven't seem him wash their windows yet, though. The room is shaped like a quarter circle, with windows all along the arc side, and the panoramic view, as I said, is spectacular. Have I told you about the view? Yeah.
. . . showing Ivan a temporary spot in the bathroom while I asked the people at the front desk where I could buy pet supplies. The front desk girl ("You're going to be here for a while, so consider me family, okay?") gave me a map with all kinds of things circled on it, including her house. I think there must be something in the way I speak that does it — I don't know — it's freaking me out. Anyway, I took a field trip from my hotel at Hastings and Thurlow, past the Accenture office at Georgia and Thurlow, right on Davies street in the West End, which I realized once I was there is the Vancouver gay district, so it was replete with colorful restaurants, sex shops, and bars (one in particular called The Pumpjack had a waiting line out into the street), and finally stopped in a 24 hour grocery to buy Ivan a litterbox, some litter, some food, a scoop, a $5 umbrella (before I realized there was a very nice complimentary one in my room closet), and a roll of special Canadian Mentos with a label in both French and English (Tommy, if you're nice I'll send you a roll of your own). Then I paid for it all with my colorful money, and walked the 10 blocks back past The Pumpjack, past the colorful restaurants and bars and sex shops, turned the corner where the three Greek restaurants were all right next to each other, and back up Thurlow to the hotel again. Along the way, I saw exactly one guy smoking a cigarette walking down the sidewalk (if you don't count a biker bar that had a smoking patio), and exactly one guy rolling a joint walking down the sidewalk, so the tobacco to marijuana ratio is a very statistically unreliable (thus far) 50%, which about matches what I'd read somewhere. Also along the way I walked in front of a Japanese family in which the father was attempting to teach his teenage kids how to say, in a very John Wayne-san accent, "Git yer hands off mah banana!"
. . . coming back up to the room, where Ivan spotted the brand new litterbox with teary longing eyes, and where I let him do his thing (from which he'd been very conscientiously refraining all day long) in the privacy of the bathroom. Ivan then came out to give the room a good exploring and realized he can lie on the bed and still see the water. He's already a big fan of boats, seaplanes, and seagulls.
. . . and finally, a couple of hours to chill out and rest in the hotel, try out the high speed internet, and wait for my coworker who's taking me to dinner at 8pm when his flight gets in.
Um, let me see, other random observations. . . .
So many signs in English + French, Chinese, Japanese.
So many people speaking English, Chinese, Japanese (haven't run into any French speakers, so I'm reasonably certain that all the French signs are simply to convince the Quebecoise to come here on vacation).
Tons of tiny restaurants.
It was about 50 degrees F this afternoon, but was really pleasant, and I was happy in my jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket. So far I think I'm the only person in Canada with a leather jacket, though, so I felt a little weird. Lots of people were wearing toboggan hats and sweaters already, though. You'd think I would be the one freezing.
The mountains to the north already have quite a bit of snow on them. I need to check when skiing season starts. There are two snowboard shops within a block or two of my hotel, so this is definitely a gig I need to get in on. I think a season pass to Grouse Mountain (30 minutes from downtown) is about $350, so I'd be silly to pass it up, eh?
Um, I'm trying to think if there's anything else. The floating gas station concept still really messes with my head (a Chevron station floated up out of nowhere while I was writing this — I swear it wasn't there 10 minutes ago).
There are so many restaurants here — the Falafel Hut, the Shawarma Hut, Thai restaurants, a Mexican restaurant (looked like they did okay on that one, even), a ton of sushi bars, a ton of Chinese places, New York pizza, burgers, a European French Fry restaurant (whatever that means — maybe they leave off the gravy and add extra mayo), and, uh, a lot more that I can't remember right off hand.
I've got my work clothes all laid out for tomorrow.
They misspelled my first name on my work permit and said my employment town is Burnaby rather than Vancouver (which, indeed, is where I'll be physically working most of the time, but not where I'll be based), but, if I'm fortunate, that won't matter too much. I think the point is that I have it and I can apply for a SIN number and they won't boot me out of here for 3 years unless I lose my job.
There's a big red armchair which Ivan has claimed for his own.
Oh, and the air is so clean here it feels like an oxygen tent.
And there were rainbows all around when the plane was landing.
I think that's all.