In Transit - Day One

Library Square, Vancouver, BC

Portland to England by way of Vancouver, BC.  I don't make it easy on myself but that was the cheapest flight option when I booked my flights back in February.  I didn't mind; I like Vancouver.  I even chose the longer layover so I could leave the airport and roam a bit.  I thought to go to the Capilano Suspension Bridge for the day.  And, as an added benefit, spending the day roaming Vancouver meant that I might just be able to sleep on the plane.  I love flying but I have to be dead tired to sleep on a plane.

I did actually sleep on the plane a bit; I had stayed up rather late... ok, I'll admit it, I never went to bed that night.  I was trying to finish items that I wanted to take with me, namely a winter coat (it's still draped on my dress form, lining-less) and my Londinium sweater.  I was done knitting Londinium, it just needed to be blocked and buttons sewn on.

Actually, I tried blocking it Saturday night but it was still damp over 24 hours later.  It was taking forever.  I finally unpinned it and tossed it in the dryer (I know, I know, I can hear your gasps from here) on air only, no heat; I had briefly entertained thoughts of putting it in the oven but after the Yarn Harlot's trials with that method (part of her sweater got singed), I was not about to risk it.  Well, the sweater felted a bit in the dryer and shrunk a little but I rescued it before it got too bad.  Unfortunately, it was still damp so I took the unfinished coat off of the dress form and draped the sweater on the dress form and ran for my hair dryer.

I then got a case of the giggles as I stood there, bleary-eyed, "hair-drying" my sweater.  It was was just before my giggles graduated from giggles to full-on maniacal, sleep-deprived laughter, that my cab arrived.  I grabbed my suitcase, my carry-on, the drier but still damp sweater and my "Burberry" raincoat and ran out the door. (Aside: my "Burberry" raincoat is a coat of my design using Burberry material obtained at my last job at the fabric store.  I also have an "Armani" skirt and my new winter coat is a "DKNY" coat.)

The flight from Portland to Vancouver is brief.  You barely have time to get settled in and the "fasten seat-belt" sign is on again.  If you sleep on the plane, the time goes even faster.  I watched the lights of Vancouver, WA as we took off, looked away for a second (fell asleep), and there we were descending into Vancouver, BC.

Because I was leaving the airport, I had to go through immigration in Vancouver.  The immigration official peppered me with questions.  How long would I be in Canada? (One day.) What was I doing in Canada? (In transit, on vacation.)  Where was I flying from? (Portland, OR.)  Where was my final destination? (London.) Why was I flying through Canada? (Air Canada had the cheapest flights).  What did I do in Portland? (I worked for a financial company.) Doing what?

At this point, I was getting a little fed up.  I've traveled many times, to many places and I've never gotten the grilling he was giving me, even in Manila which had the strictest security I had ever seen.  He finally let me through but I couldn't figure out why I had gotten to play 20 Questions with Immigration.  It was only after talking it over with my brother later that I realized, my itinerary, which had seemed the epitome of common sense to me, was actually a red flag to immigration officials leery of possible drug smuggling.  What I saw as a great chance to spend a day exploring a lovely city, he saw as a chance to drop off illicit substances while "in transit."

All I had to do was go from the "i" to the 3.

Guess I'm not as innocent looking as I thought.  And my run in with immigration was just the beginning.

You see, my day in Vancouver didn't go as planned.  It took me a while to get my train ticket and batteries for my camera (I think I walked the length of the concourse at least five times) and ride the train downtown.  Once downtown, I set off in search of Canada Place (# 3 on the map to the right) so I could ride the shuttle to Capilano.  Silly me, though, I did not consult the map when I got off the train and I walked in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go.  Even my many stops at Starbucks (there was, literally, one on every block) to use the free WiFi could not put me straight.  Nor could I figure out Vancouver's bus system.   I walked by Library Square (#7) a lot (see photo above).  After wandering the downtown core for an hour or so, I admitted defeat, gave up my title of Queen of Public Transit, declared it an almost tapioca day and went to lunch.

Chicken with sauteed gnocchi and pancetta with lemon sage sauce.

I then had a very stern talk with myself, determined that I would find the good in the day.  Nothing terrible happened, just some minor inconveniences.  I was on my way to London.  I didn't go to Capilano but I got to know downtown Vancouver better.  Got to go to a nice bookstore (and missed most of the quick torrential rain while in said bookstore), had an excellent lunch.  The prosecco cocktail helped improve my mood as well.  Also the following entry from my journal:

"Trippy moment, sitting in an Italian cafe in Vancouver and hearing Kiyoshi kono yoru (Silent Night in Japanese).  I love traveling."

And, it's true.  I love traveling, even when things don't go just right, I love traveling. But I did learn my lesson.  If you want to wander, by all means wander.  If you want to go somewhere specific, check the map before you get lost.  It will go a lot easier on you.