Day 5
The excitement of going to the thriftstore with an elaborate and unlikely scavenger list was trumped today when I stepped into the mayhem of Vancouver thrifting. The main item (and only attainable one) was a pitcher. The first store we went into didn't have one, but they did have a a film of filth that leapt onto each customer as soon as they crossed the threshold and enough misfit toys to fill three islands.
The second store was slightly more upscale having two pitchers, one sticky, and the other with a taped-on lid. I bought the taped-on lid one. It also contained a woman shouting over and over between off-key lyric recitations, "This music is really great but it sure dates me!" The shopkeeper nodded and danced behind the counter asking entering customers, "Why aren't you dancing?'
The third store contained a wispy white-haired man who latched onto mother and grabbed items all around them verbally assessing their uses and quailty to her, for nearly twenty minutes. But, he actually thanked her for listening. The store itself had rotting carpet and used plumbing/electrical gadgets that will soon become obsolete.
In the end, buying things new is more convienent, but less thrilling (any right-minded clerk wouldn't allow our white-haired friend entrance). So, dear reader, may your wishlists go unfulfilled because if they were easily filled we'd all be spoiled urchins with a lot of stuff, now we're all just urchins. It's better that way...right? Ahh, screw it, I'd give it all up for a string of pearls anyday.
-Canadian Castaway
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Totem poles, love stories, and broken glass
Day 4
The museum was boring but the tour guide sounded like Mrs. Doubtfire. Spent most of the day taking pictures of the totem figures private parts and the other part of the day wondering if it would be considered disrespectful to post them with quirky little captions and then shaming myself for hiding who I really am and then shaming myself for being who I really am.
My mother turned to me in a diner that used PeeWee Herman memorabilia as decor, pointed to a gorgeous man sitting right across from us and whispered too loud, "I think I'm in love again." I looked over at the man who was pretending he didn't hear us and thought, "Damn, I'm in love, too." In fact nearly all of the men running around (except the afro-ed, white guy in a trench coat yelling at cars) are moderately good looking to handsome to sexpot-ish. So, maybe, the further north you travel the better looking men you find. But, then, many South American men are gorgeous sexpots. So, there must be a bottoming out line, I'm thinking it could be in Texas...
Useful tip: When placing your brand new glass iced tea pitcher in your antique fridge make sure NOT to have the handle sticking out where it may snag on your booze stash on the inside of the door. Or, find a more appropriate place to stash your booze.
In closing, the "Clothing Optional" beach is particularly popular on Sundays, especially with old men*.
*Note: I didn't say the old men were good looking.
-Canadian Castaway
The museum was boring but the tour guide sounded like Mrs. Doubtfire. Spent most of the day taking pictures of the totem figures private parts and the other part of the day wondering if it would be considered disrespectful to post them with quirky little captions and then shaming myself for hiding who I really am and then shaming myself for being who I really am.
My mother turned to me in a diner that used PeeWee Herman memorabilia as decor, pointed to a gorgeous man sitting right across from us and whispered too loud, "I think I'm in love again." I looked over at the man who was pretending he didn't hear us and thought, "Damn, I'm in love, too." In fact nearly all of the men running around (except the afro-ed, white guy in a trench coat yelling at cars) are moderately good looking to handsome to sexpot-ish. So, maybe, the further north you travel the better looking men you find. But, then, many South American men are gorgeous sexpots. So, there must be a bottoming out line, I'm thinking it could be in Texas...
Useful tip: When placing your brand new glass iced tea pitcher in your antique fridge make sure NOT to have the handle sticking out where it may snag on your booze stash on the inside of the door. Or, find a more appropriate place to stash your booze.
In closing, the "Clothing Optional" beach is particularly popular on Sundays, especially with old men*.
*Note: I didn't say the old men were good looking.
-Canadian Castaway
Of Refrigerators and Indian Men
Day Three
It all began with a knock on an unknown door and ended with an antiquated fridge on a cart and my mother declaring, "I'm in love," and really it never got much better than that...until I discovered that the now cream-colored interior of the fridge is trimmed in a sea foam green. A color that predates the vague and popular in the 1990's, teal. The handle is raised and square and the front is covered in stickers from bands that have already had their comebacks. The Indian man who sold it to me (his name sounds like giraffe) told me and mother that he was going to marry Cameron Diaz and later retracted the comment with, "No, she's not good enough for me."
The good news is the fridge works and isn't as loud as the 1960's aircraft that took us to the great north. The bad news is that Giraffe took out the Coke Zero he had placed in the fridge to prove to me that it had cooling capabilities.
Following the fridge we went to the Vancouver Aquarium. I'm wondering if there is a refund for the time we spent in line to see some very unexciting Belugas. They don't do anything beyond glide around in water AND, they are gray and lumpy. What's the big fuss? (Note: Mother purchased not one, but two, beluga whale print mugs)
Haven't climbed the steps yet to the nude beach but, judging from another beach, human beluga-look alikes are sunning themselves and are even more exciting to watch than the real thing. Maybe the aquarium should load the tank with hundreds of little pretty fish to make the exhibit more exciting. It certainly makes the human belugas more exciting.
Yours forever,
Cameron Diaz
It all began with a knock on an unknown door and ended with an antiquated fridge on a cart and my mother declaring, "I'm in love," and really it never got much better than that...until I discovered that the now cream-colored interior of the fridge is trimmed in a sea foam green. A color that predates the vague and popular in the 1990's, teal. The handle is raised and square and the front is covered in stickers from bands that have already had their comebacks. The Indian man who sold it to me (his name sounds like giraffe) told me and mother that he was going to marry Cameron Diaz and later retracted the comment with, "No, she's not good enough for me."
The good news is the fridge works and isn't as loud as the 1960's aircraft that took us to the great north. The bad news is that Giraffe took out the Coke Zero he had placed in the fridge to prove to me that it had cooling capabilities.
Following the fridge we went to the Vancouver Aquarium. I'm wondering if there is a refund for the time we spent in line to see some very unexciting Belugas. They don't do anything beyond glide around in water AND, they are gray and lumpy. What's the big fuss? (Note: Mother purchased not one, but two, beluga whale print mugs)
Haven't climbed the steps yet to the nude beach but, judging from another beach, human beluga-look alikes are sunning themselves and are even more exciting to watch than the real thing. Maybe the aquarium should load the tank with hundreds of little pretty fish to make the exhibit more exciting. It certainly makes the human belugas more exciting.
Yours forever,
Cameron Diaz
Friday, August 28, 2009
Oh, Canada
Day 2, wherein our adventurer goes to a job interview gets the job an hour later, visits a Canadian "Superstore", buys a soap dispenser and plays Trivial Pursuit with a Dutch lady, a Nepalese man, a German, and a Spainard.
So far things are looking up and who knew that the "Clothing Optional" beach would be nearly a mile of stairs away...I didn't make it. But, I almost died from the run up those stairs and the fear that the homeless man sitting on them would surely pound my head in with a rock.
So far Canada seems to be a land filled with happy, skinny cherub-like people that show no signs of heartache or any distrust for any members of the human race.
In other news, I discovered the trick to their trim bodies, the potato chips in this country are outrageously expensive. Cigarettes and booze are just as pricey which leads me to believe that their cure for depression is talking about the weather with complete strangers.
More later...
So far things are looking up and who knew that the "Clothing Optional" beach would be nearly a mile of stairs away...I didn't make it. But, I almost died from the run up those stairs and the fear that the homeless man sitting on them would surely pound my head in with a rock.
So far Canada seems to be a land filled with happy, skinny cherub-like people that show no signs of heartache or any distrust for any members of the human race.
In other news, I discovered the trick to their trim bodies, the potato chips in this country are outrageously expensive. Cigarettes and booze are just as pricey which leads me to believe that their cure for depression is talking about the weather with complete strangers.
More later...
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The day of arrival
It only took 12 hours, one injury, a manic breakdown, a dark cloud of doubt, and a series of maps but I made it.
12 hours: 5 am to 5pm (not including the two hour time difference).
One injury: A gash to the arm from an open steel ashtray in an onboard bathroom. Why would they put ashtrays in airplanes if you cannot smoke in them and claustrophobic idiots like me get bleeding wounds from them.
A manic breakdown: Apparently, the workers of Budget car rental aren't used to a grown-ass woman wailing and flailing her arms around and having her mother say, "She's just having a little breakdown here," while wearing a smile and shrugging her shoulders like it's a joke.
A series of maps: Two campus maps, one Vancouver map, and the aid of every passerby on the street.
So, if you are still reading, if there are any of you out there, say a prayer, catch a smoke and wonder why all people named Peter don't have any hair. I know I will when I am dreaming on my used mattress and sleeping on a rent-a-blanket.
Keep the faith, otherwise we're all just insane.
-Canadian Castaway
12 hours: 5 am to 5pm (not including the two hour time difference).
One injury: A gash to the arm from an open steel ashtray in an onboard bathroom. Why would they put ashtrays in airplanes if you cannot smoke in them and claustrophobic idiots like me get bleeding wounds from them.
A manic breakdown: Apparently, the workers of Budget car rental aren't used to a grown-ass woman wailing and flailing her arms around and having her mother say, "She's just having a little breakdown here," while wearing a smile and shrugging her shoulders like it's a joke.
A series of maps: Two campus maps, one Vancouver map, and the aid of every passerby on the street.
So, if you are still reading, if there are any of you out there, say a prayer, catch a smoke and wonder why all people named Peter don't have any hair. I know I will when I am dreaming on my used mattress and sleeping on a rent-a-blanket.
Keep the faith, otherwise we're all just insane.
-Canadian Castaway
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