Rogers Arena - Montreal at Vancouver

AND THE HABS WON!! 4-1 BABY!!

Ahem.

Last night I went to see the battle between the Vancouver Canucks and my Montreal Canadiens at Rogers Arena in Vancouver. Since I haven't been back to town in 10 years, I hadn't seen a game here for even longer. The arena hasn't changed, even though I think it's gone through 2 names since I was last inside it.

I took the skytrain down early, picked up my ticket at will call, then headed down the road to find some quick dinner. As I sat down with my pizza slice, I took a look at my ticket to see which gate I needed when I got back. They had given me 3 tickets, 2 of which had someone else's name on them. The other seats were much better than mine, so I briefly considered using them. Then I thought how pissed I'd be if someone did that to me, so I took the extra tickets back to the box office and made my way to the 300 level. Damn golden rule.

There were lots of Habs fans in the crowd, as there always are; every time a chant went up, there was a such mix of both teams being yelled that it sounded like "Go Blargs Go!" I cheered my head off for my Habs (who cares if I'm alone?!), even through the first period when they were outshot by a margin of 3:1 and the game was tied 0-0.

It happened that I'd bought one of two seats being sold separately, so I was sat there next to a lone Canucks fan. At the first intermission, he came back from getting a beer refill and asked, "Are you still cheering for the Habs?" "Yep." "Then I can't talk to you."

And we talked for the rest of the game. He consoled me when the Canucks drew first blood in the 2nd, and I helped him keep track of Plekanec's assists (for his fantasy team) as the Habs got the next 4 goals. We laughed, we drank beer, my team actually won for a change, and it was a good time.

At the end of the game, he invited me out to a bar with him and his work colleagues who'd been seated in the company seats downstairs, but I wasn't feeling it. I'd had plenty to drink already, I'd been up since 6:30am, and I was tired. Plus I had no ulterior motives with the guy, he was just fun to hang out with and watch hockey. He took my number, saying he'd text where they ended up if I wanted to go meet them, but he didn't. And I wouldn't have gone anyway. I'll never see that guy again.

It's kind of too bad he wasn't my type, because we got on great and a hockey game would be the perfect place to meet the man for me. When am I going to end up at a game next to a single guy who's also alone, and who's friendly enough to chat, and who I get along with, ever again? Never. Proof that there's no fate or master plan in the world, just randomness that sometimes works out, and sometimes doesn't.

In the end, I had a great night. No need to use my zen garden after that game. But I did wonder how much the hotel would charge me for smoking in the zen garden. I mean, it's outdoors, right? Damn hippies.

A Return to the Lower Mainland

I don’t know what to say about being back in British Columbia. Partly I’m just tired because this is the first moment I’ve had to rest since 6:30 this morning, but maybe I’m also overwhelmed.

I moved away from Burnaby at the end of August, 2001. I came back to town a few months later to defend my thesis, then didn't return. I had no real desire to come up here, being as there wasn’t anything new to discover and very little that I truly missed. Sure, I missed Canada in general, but nothing specific to Vancouver or the Lower Mainland.

But then I came back.

I left early for a Saturday morning, ran into no real traffic, and had only one car in front of me at the border crossing. The agent seemed somewhat suspicious of me coming to a hockey game alone, and when I mentioned that I used to live here to try to calm his concerns (ie it’s like visiting your old neighborhood, you don’t need to bring friends with you), he asked me even more in-depth questions. But I ultimately got in, and was downtown near my hotel before 11am.

Since check-in didn’t start until 3, I stayed on the road. I drove down Hastings through Burnaby, past where I used to live. Downtown has changed a lot, and Burnaby was nearly unrecognizable, but the sad mess on Hastings was exactly as I left it a decade ago. I stopped for lunch at A&W and poked around some shops, then continued down Lougheed highway to Coquitlam, which looks exactly the same.

I finally settled in at SilverCity cinemas to see Goon. I’m completely and irrationally in love with this movie, and why wouldn’t I be? It combines so many of my favorite things: hockey, big laughs, constant cursing, a totally unsentimental love story, and Jay Baruchel. It’s not out in US theatres yet, but it’s available to rent on iTunes, so I watched it twice on the plane back from the UK, and came to see it on the big screen while in Canada. After 3 viewings I still absolutely adore it.

When the movie was over, I drove back across town in the rain to my boutique hotel, which I booked only because I got a good deal on it. Next time I’ll pay more not to be in a place like this. My room has a ‘zen garden.’ Whatever. I’m sure lots of people love this shit, but not me.

I'm now about to rush off out the door to find some food and catch the skytrain down to Rogers Arena, where will-call has a ticket for me to see some Canadiens at Canucks hockey. The odds aren't in my favor, but I'm still hoping to see my boys win in person for the first time in ages.

Go Habs Go!

The Winter of My Discontent

For my travels in Britain, I brought Bukowski's Notes of a Dirty Old Man, because it's a collection of newspaper columns which are short with lots of logical stopping points. Somewhere on a rail car in the middle of the country, I read this passage where Buk explains why he's not well known as a poet:

I began late and lived too long alone in small rooms drinking wine. they always figure that a hermit is insane, and they may be right.

I related a bit too much to those sentences, especially out on the road by myself, living in small hotel rooms, often ending the day in them with beer or wine and television. It was just a road version of what I do at home: go do useful and productive things during the day, eat an early dinner, then stay in watching TV (possibly with wine) all night. I always hibernate a bit during the winter, but this year it has been even more hermit-tastic than usual. I have no inclination to change it, either. I kind of dig this life. Hence the insanity comment.

I tend to tie my mood tightly to my location. Seattle isn't doing it for me, so I hide indoors away from it. Or I leave it. Even living the same lone life in Great Britain, I was much much happier. I was back in the US for 3 days before I found a reason to leave again. I'm up early this morning to make the drive up to Vancouver, spend the day around my old Lower Mainland haunts, and then see the Habs and Canucks play tonight.

And now that spring is starting to appear in Seattle, I feel the need to get out of the house, to find things to do that improve my mood in spite of location.

Failing that, I have a trip planned every month for the next several. Mileage, mileage, mileage.

I am going... I am going... any which way the wind may be blowing... (name that Pogues tune)

Touring London

I spent today being a tourist in London. In general it was great, but man, do I hate tourists.

I'm not much of a museum girl, but rain was expected this morning, so I decided to start my day indoors at the British Museum. Since I've studied the Church of England and various other aspects of Christian history in Europe, I figured it could at least entertain me for a while. It didn't disappoint. I wandered through some of the Roman and Egyptian collections, but what really geeked me out were the European rooms with their various religious artifacts.  I was a bit disappointed that the Europe 1400-1800 room was closed today, since I'm sure it would've had more of the same. I ended my time in the Age of Enlightenment room, which was a recreation of the King's Library and made me feel very warm and homey, as it smelled of old books. But after a minute I lost focus and kept thinking of Swingers -- It says breakfast any time... I'd like pancakes in the age of enlightenment -- so I had to leave.

After the Museum, I took the Tube up to Westminster, which was basically a giant crush of tourists. I took a walk around Parliament Square then headed across the Thames on Westminster Bridge, all the while unable to escape the immense crowd. I stopped for a lukewarm sausage roll, crossed back over the water, then turned the opposite way of the horde, which led me to take a lovely stroll through Whitehall Gardens. Having relaxed a bit, I took a walk back into the masses and up to see 10 Downing.

Of course, I couldn't actually see #10, because Downing Street is completely closed to the public. The road is blocked by 2 gates and a number of policemen, including one with a machine gun. So I joined the throngs in taking a photo, then moved on. Up the street I wandered into the cavalry parade ground. It wasn't all that spectacular, and just made me feel sorry for the poor guys in full regalia, and their horses, who have to stand there all day letting person after person take pictures of them.

At this point, the sun had come out and, because I had dressed for the morning chill, my body temperature was in the vicinity of one million degrees. I made a quick stop back at the hotel for a wardrobe change, then took advantage of the nice afternoon and walked down to Hyde Park. I strolled all the way through the park, past Kensington Palace (currently closed) and popped out the other side on Kensington High Street. It was quite a nice walk, albeit about 2 miles long, so after I'd finished my shopping, I opted for the Underground back to my hotel.

Now, having done all my touring, I'm not sure what the night holds for me. I know that dinner and wine are in order, but beyond that.... well... probably not much, as I have a long day of flying tomorrow, but we shall see.

London, Back Again

I'm tired today. And cranky. And feeling quite ill. Generally not a good travel day.

Typically when I'm out on a trip, I don't pay attention to the day of the week; it's all here today, there tomorrow, somewhere else the day after. But I was reminded that today's Friday because I shared a car on the train from Cardiff with a big group of guys heading to London for a stag weekend. How did I know that's what they were up to? Funny you should ask. Even with ear buds in and music cranked to 11, I could hear EVERY GODDAMN DRUNKEN WORD THEY SAID.

Ahem. Inhale. Exhale. OK.

After an annoying 2 hours, I arrived to a cold and dreary day in London, got into the hotel and had no desire to go out again. I eventually did leave because I was out of foodstuffs, but all the chocolates and meat-flavored crisps have finally caught up with me, and I've no interest in putting a thing into my stomach.

Oy, Friday night in the world's best city, and I don't feel like doing anything but lying in bed. Time to find a way to buck up...

Cardiff

After some train shenanigans, I've arrived for my one night in Cardiff. This is my only stop in Wales, and I'm sort of okay with that.

In five rail journeys, today's was the only one with a connection, so of course today's was the only one running behind. The pickup in York was 12 minutes late due to someone being hit by a train further up the line. That doesn't seem like much until you realize that I only had 11 minutes to make my connection in Bristol. Given that stations here often have long labyrinths between platforms -- and 12 is more than 11 -- I figured that wasn't enough time. To make it more fun, an old woman boarded at Leeds who had a reservation for the same seat that I did. After some discussion, she decided to take the open spot next to me and interrupt my reading the whole way to complain about the slow speed and lateness of the train. As we neared Bristol, however, she admitted that she'd been worrying about missing her connection for 2 weeks, so I forgave her whining. In the end, we made up some time and I caught train #2, just barely.

Cardiff is nice; the city centre is small and walkable, but not in the charming old-world way of York. It seems to have been built there recently as a distraction for tourists on their way to the castle.

The castle, yes, I saw it. It's rather large and impressive like Edinburgh, but they charge to go inside the walls, and paying for a ticket didn't impress me particularly. I stayed outside the walls and instead strolled around the adjoining arboretum in Bute Park. Afterwards, back in the city centre, I stopped briefly to listen to a pipe band perform (apparently there's some St David celebration going on?), and did a bit of shopping.

Unfortunately, my shopping wasn't especially successful. My one objective in Cardiff is to get a gift for Jonathan, because he's a big Dr Who fan, and evidently they film here. I went into a few touristy shops and saw plenty of crap covered in dragons and Welsh slogans, but that's about it. To complicate matters, I know fuck all about Dr Who. No, that's not true; I know tardis. I'm not entirely sure what a tardis is, or what Inspector Spacetime does with it, but I have definitely heard the word tardis thrown around.

I guess I'll try again tomorrow.

Speaking of which, I have about 18 more hours here in Cardiff, then it's back to finish my trip in London. Part of me can't wait to go spend time in one of my favorite places in the world, but at the same time, I'm sad knowing that it's the end of the journey.

For the moment, though, Guinness and Top Gear are cheering me up.