OK, I guess it's time for me to grit my teeth and finally face the end of my blog. I've been back in England for almost a month and it's definately business as usual (i.e. falling asleep at my desk!). My three months in the States seems so far away and a little unreal - did it really happen? Was it really me who went to all of those amazing places ? Has it changed me ?
-Yes - I have photos to prove it.
-Yes - I was that lucky.
-Yes - In some respects.
I have never felt so happy or comfortable in my own skin as I did during my travels. People who met me met the 'real' Kate. Although I now feel a little stifled in Manchester at least I have experienced my own potential and can seek a life in which that is possible all of the time (or more realistically, most of the time). I'm much more willing to take chances, I'll go anywhere and do anything on the basis that I'm pretty certain I'll find my way 'home' (however you define 'home') when the need arises. Plus just the attitiude of 'having a bash' is a greater part of my approach to experiencing all that life has to offer. I am as capable of spending great periods of time alone as I always thought, but I'm also much more sociable than I realised.
Although I have met a number of people I have remained in touch with, and hope that continues, I surprised myself by gradually becoming much more able to deal with the fact that some people enter your life briefly - you have a fabulous time, learn from one another and then move on, and thats ok. Learning when to invest emotionally and when it's just pleasant company for a few hours has been valuable and revealing.
In life as a whole, as well as with regards to this trip I have been learning to give myself more credit for my achievements and those 3 months are something that makes me incredibly proud of myself ! Look at what I did - cool huh ?!!
There are so many people I miss, places I want to return to. As I expected it would, my trip only reinforced my desire to spend some time living in the US. In my entry on the 5th April I said:
"San Francisco, which is my spiritual home and where I’m staying for 3 weeks in attempt to pass as a ‘local’, figure out if I want to relocate there "I might as well have had a crystal ball. I'm now trying to find a way to spend a prolonged period of time in California ( and yes, a certain Sommelier has provided me with additional enthusiasm for that, but the desire has always been there, and I'm realistic about the slimness of my chances but I'll have a damned good try).
I also developed a greater fondness for my own country - missing the landscapes, the special look and feel of areas like the Lake District. I described Manchester to so many people that I was reminded how great a city it is and how much it has to offer. I found myself being proud to be British (I have strong ties to Scotland as well as England, so although I will often say English it doesn't do full justification to the situation). I missed my friends and family throughout the trip, but I realised how comfortable I was in those relationships and how strong they are and that on my return we'd be as close as ever, and that was proven on my return. I also felt much 'European' - that was how I was viewed by many people I met, as European not just English. I liked this and now crave more time on the otherside of the Channel.
The US has come in for a lot of criticism over the last couple of years, however it would be more accurate to say the 'US Administration'. The people I have spent time with have shown me a country that is being led by individuals who have no idea what many of their people and country are about, whose brightest and most capable citizens would often give anything to leave the country and settle elsewhere. In many respects it's a country with huge problems (politics and health being just two of them), however the powers that be appear to be turning a blind eye to all except the incredibly wealthy and their own childish desire to rule the world. It makes me so angry. This is a country that is the home to some of the kindest, most generous, creative and intelligent people I have met and they are being woefully misrepresented on this side of the Atlantic by a governemnt that wouldn't understand democracy if it slapped them round the back of the head with an oversized piece of Texan beef ! Heck Schwarzenegger became governor - maybe I should stand next time around !!! However, all of that said, it doesn't stop me loving the country and wishing I could go back there tomorrow.
OK, I've been putting this off for far too long now and any ability to be poetic and put together words that will be cherished for a lifetime escape me - I'm sorry.
The time I spent travelling were the best 3 months of my life, that wouldn't have happened without the generosity of the poeple I met along the way and the support of people back home. I won't list you all, I'll be here all day, but you know who you are. Thank you SO much, all of you. I hope to hear from some of you soon and wish everybody well.
Take care of yourselves.
With much love, thanks and fond memories
Kate xxxxxxx
Vancouver airport is great as airports go, it’s like being in a shopping mall with huge numbers of seats, a mini museum and – hurrah – internet access that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. I tried logging onto my blog to see if I had any comments only to be told that its content was deemed ‘unsuitable’. I like it, I’d been censored !! The downside was queues to get to passport control, the likes of which I haven’t seen since the new Harry Potter book came out, and US customs staff (and that threw me, I thought I was in Canada, how come the staff are US customs officials?) that were unpleasant, awkward and had trouble understanding basic English (how many times do you have to say “I lost it” before they grasp that you lost it !!!). Beyond that there’s not much to tell. I got on the plane and slept all the way through take off ! As usual I didn’t get fed. I have to say I’m not a great fan of United Airlines. No leg space, no food on domestic flights, if they do show films they’re rubbish. Sadly they seem to be one of the cheaper companies so I won’t be seeing the last of them I’m sure.
It was as the plane left Chicago that I cried, I was actually leaving the country, (in the company of someone who didn’t say two words to me during the whole journey, and boy did I need distracting, sadly the only distraction came in the form of the dreadful ‘Miss Congeniality’ - told you they had dreadful taste in movies). By now I was bored of planes, oh SO bored, the novelty had worn off, I was tired, emotional and very uncomfortable (2 weeks later I still feel like my shoulders are bunched up around my ears).
Next stop, Manchester, and guess what ….. it was raining !! Welcome home Kate.
Check back in a couple of days for updates on the after effects.
While I was in Vancouver I had received an e-mail that had made me grin like the proverbial Cheshire cat. Shana had booked a flight to Seattle !!!! She would land in the morning, hire a car, drive me to Vancouver where we would stay the night, put me on the plane, drive back to Seattle and then fly home. How about that for grand romantic gestures. Any concerns I had about our feelings being mutual were blown right out of the water.
She landed at 8am on the Sunday morning and from about 6.30am to 8.30 am when she came down the escalators I paced back and forth wearing a tramline in floor, checking my watch, checking the arrivals notice board, checking the escalators. Blimey, was she a sight for sore eyes when she finally appeared. She is one beautiful woman, even when my eyes have only had an hours rest ! When we finally prised ourselves apart we picked up the hire car and drove into Seattle (good job I wasn’t driving, there is no way I would have been able to focus on the road ahead!).
It was a beautiful day and Seattle is an attractive city – if a nightmare to navigate. We stopped for breakfast, bought the cutest donut peaches, admired the flowers in the farmers market and then headed off to visit an acquaintence of Shana’s who ran a cake shop. Fabulous carrot cake followed and then a wander around a park. It was such sweet few hours, the sun shone and we walked and talked surrounded by people flying kites, walking dogs, enjoying picnics, not that our attention was on them. Shana also played the heroine, rescuing me from an impressively large and slimy worm that had decided to try and ‘worm its way in’ (arf arf) on our sunbathing (actually it appeared from nowhere, I figure the damn thing could fly), either way I got to see another side to Shana ;) ! Being outdoor equipment junkies we visited the giant REI store for a quick fix – miraculously keeping our wallets in our pockets (I’ve found someone who finds fleece sexy, she’s either perfect or crazy!). Then we started the drive to Vancouver, a pretty route as freeways go (was it a freeway or highway? I never can remember, or tell the difference), we were surrounded by water and mountains – perfect. There were no complications as we crossed over the border, although I was asked if I would be returning to the US in the next 3 months, I said no. After we drove off I remembered my trip to New York in 2 months time and quietly had a minor coronary, all the while telling Shana I wasn’t worried. We were entertained by people playing badminton and sunbathing on the lawns outside the checkpoint, not an obvious choice for a relaxing day out. One guy, crossing the border on foot, weaved his way between the cars carrying nothing but a bag of golf clubs. You probably won’t be surprised to hear that security from the US to Canada is a little more relaxed and more like travelling through Europe.
Once in Vancouver we headed straight for a hotel and settled in for the evening. It wasn’t until we were having dinner that it hit me just how significant the evening was. This was it, the final night of my 3 month tour, the trip of a lifetime. It was over. It felt like crossing the finish line of an amazing race. I’d done it. Kate the homebody had spent 3 months on the road, no problems, no threats to my security. Common sense, a little bit of the old grey matter and a certain amount of luck was sending me home in one piece. Teary eyed I talked about some of my experiences, all of them ‘highs’, there had been no lows, unless you counted all the goodbyes I had had to say. I had been amazingly fortunate and had 3 of the best months of my life. Suddenly, I had reached the end. I don’t know if I had blocked it out or if I had just naively thought it wouldn’t have much of an impact on me. Back in the hotel room I had a cry and realised how grateful and happy I was to be spending my final night with Shana instead of sleeping, alone, on a bench at Vancouver airport as had been my plan. It was wonderful that I got any additional time with her, whatever the occasion, but this made it particularly special and an incredibly significant evening for the both of us. I swear there could not have been a better way to end my trip than in the arms of the woman I had fallen in love with.
The next morning we had our second tearful goodbye at an airport (there will be more of these, but the happy ‘hello’s that follow each time we see each other again will more than wipe out the pain of the last goodbye) and I stood on the pavement watching her drive off, heartbroken to see her go, but amazed at my luck at meeting her in the first place.
OK, Saturday night at Seattle airport I managed to find a bench without arms, still not a restful experience and I probably got about an hours sleep. The same tannoy announcements are made constantly despite the place being deserted, and a collection of staff kept congregating about 15 yards from where I was trying to sleep in order to swap gossip as they started and ended their shifts – how would you like it if I came into your bedroom in the middle of the night and started talking mindless nonsense –huh ? Mind you the restlessness was also a result of excitement. I had stayed at the airport despite not flying out of there the next day. Why ? I had a plane to meet ………………..
The following day started with a leisurely morning during which time John took me out on his rowing boat and taught me how to fly fish. Neither of us had any intention of catching anything, but the action of casting and reeling in over and over again is actually quite theraputic. At lunch time we took our places outside the house for the second parade of the weekend (this town sure knows how to party). This time large numbers of John’s family joined us and I realised how big a community event this was.
This time marching bands were included, some in historical (or is that hysterical) costumes playing Yankee Doodle Dandy, bagpipes played and brought a tear to my eye (!). I have never seen such ill fitting uniforms, too narrow, too short, too big, too long) teenage boys that looked desperately bored, a couple looked like they couldn’t even spell fire let alone put one out. A few were led by motorcyclists (the ‘dykes on bikes’ as I referred to them). I do wonder what the various ‘Ladies Auxilliary Units’ do, or they merely cooks, bottle washers and laundry maids. I did feel sorry for them, the heat was crippling me and I was sat in a sun lounger with a beer in my hand. I’m sure they do a great job and I shoudn’t be so cruel, but it was wonderful entertainment.
The other entertainment of the day was a game called ‘how are you related to John?’. John’s family is more like a spider graph than an easy to follow family tree (although most modern families are like that these days it seems) with numerous exes, step siblings and newly weds (for those of you having a minor panic, he won’t mind me saying all of this). They were lovely and welcoming, but I did give up trying to figure out who they all were when after I asked someone how he was related to one woman “that’s my mother” – nothing was simple, names became my only concern.
Then, all too quickly, it was time to leave and start my somewhat protracted journey home. I had to fly form the east coast to the west in order to go east again. The following 3 days looked like this:
Albany to Chicago to Seattle (day 1)
Drive to Vancouver (day 2)
Vancouver to Chicago to Manchester (day 3)
Please bear in mind that 5 days earlier I had flown from Seattle to Chicago to Albany. I’m far too familiar with Chicago O’Hare Airport and my right rib cage will tell you that Seattle airport benches are not a good place to spend the night. I am, without doubt, a seasoned traveller within the US, and although travelling by plane is far more comfortable, going by Greyhound was far more interesting, challenging and more of an opportunity for personal growth (I know, I sound like I’m talking out of my plane shaped arse, but it’s true). However, that said, I’ll still snatch the plane ticket out of your hand just because it speeds up the whole process.
Friday 15th July.
We were spending another night at John Snr’s before I departed and boy were we in for a treat! That night there was a local Mardi Gras parade and it passed right by the front door. It was hysterical. Made up mainly of fire crews (there was a convention in town – as ya do !) it lasted all of 10 minutes but provided fabulous entertainment. Many of the fire crews are volunteers and clearly aren’t equipped to deal with physically demanding work on a full time basis (well, any basis at all). I doubt they could rescue a cat stuck in a tree let alone stop a blaze from destroying a building. I have never seen such large people in uniforms, accompanied by women so old I figured they had been resurrected from the local cemetery just to bolster the numbers. Chunky (I feel the need to be kind after all they do volunteer their free time) firefighters rode in circles down the street on …….. lawn mowers. A large number of floats had the theme of burning privys (is this common in the whole of the US or is it just upstate New York that this occurs a lot? Either way I will think twice before using an outdoor toilet!). After 10 minutes of laughter and numerous sarcastic comments were passed back and forth between John and I, we reluctantly admitted that it was over.
Our final full day was spent on the beach, at first glance it was overcast but it was wonderfully warm and I read (Wanderlust-A History of Walking by Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust being close to my heart !), and didn’t notice that I was being slowly cooked and in the process was developing the most luminous tan lines.
I had a chance to check my e-mails and was relieved to discover that there was work waiting for me back at the city council when I went home. Brain numbingly dull work, but at least I would be able to start paying off the no doubt monstrous credit card bill. That was a huge relief, my shoulders were starting to wrap themselves around my ears at the thought of the ‘real world’ waiting for me and how awful it would be to find myself out of work and free to do nothing but wish I was still travelling, so, a big sigh of relief.
We rounded the day off with more food and drink and more than slightly tipsy I sat in bed and wrote:
My god, the things I have done. I can’t believe it’s almost over. I have been to Las Vegas, the Stockyards Dallas, the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, I’ve listened to Jazz in New Orleans, survived 18 hour journeys on Greyhound buses, been to Alabama (of all places), stood outside Capitol Hill and the White House, and so much more. I remember those days when it had just started and the trip seemed endless. Now I will be home in less than a week. It’s bizarre, crazy, unreal. I’ve met the most wonderful people and seen the most spectacular places. I’ve lived out of my backpack for a month (I know that’s nothing compared to those who travel the world for a year or longer, but for someone who considered herself a bit of a homebody that’s not bad going), and worn my clothes to death. I’ve eaten the most amazing food and the most appalling, I’ve met people with more money than sense and those with practically nothing but hearts so big you couldn’t put a price on it. I will never forget Justin, the young lad on a Greyhound bus, with most of his family in prison; he wanted to be James Bond, or a missionary. I’ve climbed hills in the most spectacular locations (Cathedral Rocks was one of the happiest days of my life), and arrived at Greyhound stations in the roughest parts of cities. I am aware that I have been to more places in America than many Americans, I’ve seen the country at its best and at its worst, and you know what ? I love it. I love the people and the geography, the food and the buses, the weather and the animals (ok, not the mosquitos). I’ve never been happier. I’ve never been more proud of who and what I am, an English, gay woman. It might seem strange that I had to leave my country to achieve this, but I have and I know I won’t lose any of those things. You can tell I was tipsy but it gets the point across !!!
That evening I had my first taste of lobster and clams. It was like a massive excavation job, tools and all. Three of us were sat at large table for four (don’t forget this is America, a table for four there would fit six in Europe - heh heh – I’ll stop with the weight comments I promise!) and we covered it with food, plates for bits of legs and claws, bowls of butter, drinks, by the end of it the scene was not unlike that of an autopsy. And what did I make of the food ? Well, I’m very glad I tried it (that is, after all, what a trip like this is about) but I am in no rush to try it again !
We really did see whales !
That evening we ate out, enjoyed a few cocktails and explored Provincetown, a very quaint town that is as pretty as it looks on postcards. It is also remarkably gay. It was like walking onto a film set for the latest queer flick. A particular sort of gay man was in the majority and it wasn’t until a couple of days later that we saw the posters and discovered that it was ‘Bear week’ !! A lot of hair and proudly displayed rounded stomachs were in ‘P Town’ that week. It had a lovely friendly fun feel to the place.
The following day we headed out to sea and went whale watching, what a fabulous experience. I didn’t think I’d get particularly excited but I turned into a 12 year old girl!!!!! I shouted and yelped along with everyone else when a whale came into a view, and there were so many of them circling us and coming to the surface. We were told what to look for (huge numbers of birds hovering just above the water, clouds of water as they ‘blow’ or whatever its called). They seemed to spend an equal amount of time on either side of the boat, on the one hand giving everyone the chance to take photos, on the other being so quick that you got the occasional blur on your screen. I have one or two half decent shots but nothing fabulous, but who cares, I had a blast.
A relaxing stroll on Cape Cod
OK, I’m back ……….
11th July onwards.
Where was I , oh yes, a traumatic night in Seattle airport was followed by 2 flights to Albany. I don’t know how I do it but I always end up sitting next to the least chatty people on the plane, I don’t expect their life story, nor do I expect them to become my therapist for the length of the flight, but a bit of pre take off banter would be nice. Anyway, the flights spent in silence came to an end and as I walked through arrivals at Albany David and John were waiting, camera at the ready to get a shot of the traveller. It was wonderful to see them, we had got on so well in Dallas and as I expected we slotted straight into easy conversation and jokes about John’s family. Then my ‘party trick’ of the week reared its head for the first time. I have no idea why but every time I got into the car I fell asleep. It didn’t matter where we were going or how long the journey was, without fail I would get into the car, fasten my seat belt and within minutes my head was lolling, my mouth was open and I away with the fairies, it never failed !!!
We were spending the night at John’s fathers house. It is right on the bank of the Hudson river with its own jetty. A beautiful spot to have a bbq, knock back a beer or two and fend off the attentions of the, erm, well, non too attractive Georgia, John Snr’s Boston Terrier. I got to bore John and David with talk of a certain young woman, find out what they had been up to and get eaten alive by mosquitos (I’d forgotten about the damn things and wasn’t happy to find they had the ability to eat through my linen pants. Next time I come to this country I’m spending the two weeks before bathing in mosquito repellent and wearing a wet suit for the whole trip, it might not be the biggest turn on but at least I won’t be the ‘chef’s special’ !).
The following morning we drove to Cape Cod (yes, I slept for most of the journey), made our way to the Eventide Motel in Wellfleet (a lovely clean place that I would recommend). We headed straight for the trail behind the property that would take us to the beach and set off on a leisurly walk. All was well until we decided to change from the bike track we were following to the footpath that took us through the trees. HUGE HUGE mistake. John and I were attacked by swarms of ………. You got it, mosquitos. I swear it was like The Birds in miniature, we were covered in the *%@king things. I was wearing a vest top and by the time we had escaped my back looked like an ordnance survey map for the alps. We made our way to a beautiful white sandy beach and spent a couple of hours walking along the shoreline, spotting seals and David identifying birds and shell life (the guy has a mind like an encyclopedia, his brain seems to work like a sponge, it’s most impressive). It was wonderful to take off my shoes and paddle through the water, although I have to admit it was kind of hard, beach walks like that should be done holding someone’s hand. Sorry John you’re a handsome chap and you do come from Texas, but your voice is a little too deep !
Canal Street, Manchester, aka 'The Gay Village.
OK folks, I know I have been utterly useless at writing up the end of my trip, I will do it I promise. I seem to have hit the ground with rather a bump and maybe part of my brain reckons that if I don't complete the blog then the trip will never really be over !!! I will do it and I will give you an update on current activites / overall view of the trip. Photos will also appear. Give me a couple of days and I'll be back on the job. Love to all, KP xxx
I had wanted to spend some time in Stanley Park and we set off to explore some of its trails. However, its HUGE. 10 minutes in we kept getting lost. Eventually we found ourselves at the path that follows the sea wall. It’s an incredibly popular area and hundreds of cyclists and skaters made their way past us and other walkers on a very well managed path. I would have loved to hire skates and wobble my way round (I’m not very graceful but I always enjoy myself!). After a while we realised we had gone too far to turn back, I didn’t mind, I was hungry but there is a pretty and restful view all the way around the path. It was also great fun to watch the tandems cycle by; 9 times out of 10 the rear cyclist would be a young woman completely inappropriately dressed, her head resting against her boyfriends back and her feet no where near the pedals. We kept going, and kept going……. It seemed to last forever because by this time we were starving. By the time we made it to the end and staggered into a restaurant we were incapable of speech and were about ready to pass out.. We then hung out at the beach for a while where I kept falling asleep, I couldn’t help it, I was exhausted and the sound of water is not unlike a lullaby!
Next stop was a drag king event at Lick , ‘Wild Things – Twisted Drag Show’ was a fundraiser for the East Vancouver SPCA (an animal charity, there were a lot of jokes about pussy’s, say no more!). They finally appeared on stage at 12 and it was all over by 12.30. I have to say I’ve never quite got this lip synching thing. I figure if you can’t sing, don’t pretend to, go find another talent. We all have one even if its just hanging a spoon off the end of our nose at least it’s genuine and doesn’t rely on borrowing the talents (in this case vocal) of somebody else. Mini rant over.
Sunday was relaxed and involved food and then a bus to Seattle airport where I would fly to Albany. The bus trip was uneventful, unless you include the US border where the dog sniffing our luggage decided it needed a few return trips to mine. The bus driver was very amusing (once you’d learnt to decipher his accent), on the subject of fruit; “if you don’t declare any fruit you have they will fine you a couple of hundred dollars and it will be the most expensive fruit you never got to eat. If you declare it you have two options, one, they will let you eat it there and then, or two, they will throw it away for you. So if you have any watermelons I suggest you start eating them now”. Well, he made me laugh.
I had planned to spend the night at Seattle airport, my bank account had been completely drained by this point and I was worried about maxing out my credit card. It wasn’t the best nights sleep I’ve never had. Below are the comments from my journal:
Got about an hours restless sleep on a bench. Now I’m tired cold and grumpy. I’m tired of American security, even when it’s reasonable it feels unreasonable (kind of like the little boy who cried wolf scenario). My own country just got bombed and even I think this place is paranoid. I want a shower, a comfy bed, decent food, or even just crap food that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg, and conversation that doesn’t consist of “I’m disabled and they wouldn’t come from behind the desk to help me”. You’re disabled because you’re fat madam, learn to eat less burgers. I knew I was back in America (with the exception of California) the minute I got off the bus in Seattle: A disturbingly large proportion of people were disturbingly large. It’s worse when you see it in the kids (it is the parents responsibility). Over weight kids with pale unhealthy skin. Initially I assumed that they would be teased at school, then I realised they are probably the norm.I must be getting old; Bon Jovi blaring out of the speakers at 4am only makes me want to kill someone. I’m assuming that the attitude of the coffee stand staff is ‘we’re awake so we’re damned well making sure you are’.
There’s a two and a half foot dragon, wearing pyjamas wandering around the coffee shop. That kid has parents with a great sense of humour – either that or my lack of sleep is playing with my mind. I want that outfit. The claw gloves alone would give me hours of entertainment.What is it with this bloody country and sales tax ? Just add it to the damned price on the label will you. Like that would be too much to askHmmm, I’m not good when I’m tired, clearly !!!!
Detail from the Raven and the First Man
The Raven and the First Man
Museum of Anthropology, Vancouver
Saturday 9th July
We made our way to the University of British Columbia to pay a visit to the
Museum of Anthropology. A fabulous museum, at first glance it seems quite small and to hold a relatively small selection of exhibits, but it’s almost as though the place grows once you are inside it. It educates people about such a fascinating history, it was impossible to take it all in, I wanted to sit for hours and contemplate the beautiful imagery. From it’s beautifully carved front doors (made by four master Gitxsan artists) which contain within the design a narrative of the first people of the Skeena River, to its amazing visible storage section (nothing is hidden from visitors), it was a wonderful experience. I was particularly captured by The Raven and The First Man by Bill Reid which depicts a moment in the history of the Haida people. I read about it’s creation and installation and practically ran down the corridor to see it for myself. There are fascinating outdoor exhibits and I even caught a rehearsal of a live performance of drumming by a local group. A great way to spend a few hours.
Thursday 7th July.
My flight to Vancouver was delayed due to a dent in the engine casing. Can you imagine if Stagecoach buses worked on that basis, there would never be a bus on the roads, in fact that whole of Manchester would be pedestrianised. I know, it’s a plane, let me whinge. It was made harder by the London news. I felt trapped and lonely, a million miles from home or a friendly face. On my arrival in Vancouver things improved somewhat. I had missed the bus that would take me downtown where I was meeting my friend Kat. As a result I shared a limousine with a lovely newly married couple. Yep, I gate crashed a honeymoon, but they got a cameraman into the bargain as I helped them tape a short video in the back of the car (no, not that kind of movie, a ‘hi mum and dad’ kind of thing). Get that – a Minchin in a Limo, not something you’d expect to see. Not to say we don’t suit the whole thing. I happen to think I look right at home in them, sadly my parents haven’t taken the hint and bought a winning lottery ticket.
I couldn’t grasp that I was in another country for approximately the first 36 hours. I’d only been in the air for 2 hours, people had a similar accent (they’ll kill me for saying that) and they still drive on the wrong side of the road (and it is wrong I tell you). It was a lovely relaxed weekend in a beautiful city with the most amazing backdrop, well, when the mountains weren’t hidden by cloud. It seems that it is becoming increasingly necessary for me to be in places by the ocean. The final month and a half of my trip will have been by water; sadly the Manchester Ship Canal just won’t do it for me when I get home. This is a real ‘outdoors’ city, kayaks attached to car roofs, people on bikes, skateboards and skates everywhere you looked. An abundance of fleece, trail shoes and lots of healthy looking complexions.
Saturday morning we explored Granville Island, Vancouver’s answer to Covent Garden, eating sticky buns and admiring the boats. Great fun was to be had in the children’s market – sorry people, no presents for anyone but Julian – I’m not sure who will get the most fun out of his gifts, him or me! Heck I’m such a kid. We explored the Little Sister Bookstore, a lesbian and gay bookstore with an amazing array of books, I’m not sure how I managed it but my credit card remained in my pocket. Unheard of, a Minchin going into a bookstore and leaving empty handed. The plan had been to go out that night but we were both so tired that we cooked and stayed in watching Pirates of the Caribbean as one of the boats from the film was docked just outside the city. After dinner and before the movie we had left the house long enough to walk to the beach and attempt to watch the sun set, cloud prevented us from enjoying that view. As we watched the pirate ship (actually I’m not sure which one it was) fired its canons a few times. We were also entertained by two young boys who played in the water. They must have been about 8 or 9 years old, they laughed and splashed one another, played ‘sharks’ and generally had a huge amount of fun. It was a delight to watch them, and to think there wasn’t a game boy in sight. They were oblivious to the cold, one of them shouting at regular intervals, ‘I want to live in the water’, it made my night……
While I was waiting for my (delayed) flight to leave San Francisco I phoned Shana, she broke the news to me of the London bombing. I had never felt so far from home, so disconnected from ‘real’ life. I have so many friends who live in London or who make regular trips there that I wouldn’t have known who to phone first, as it was I had run out of cash, the phones wouldn’t take my credit cards and I didn’t have a mobile phone. Having spent the best part of 3 months in such an enormous country the UK felt like the very small island that it actually is. In the UK my generation and those before me have been brought up familiar with the word ‘terrorism’, the IRA made sure of that, so although we are shocked and outraged at the event itself, the idea of terrorism doesn’t send us into a state of panic and over reaction. We don’t resort to the kind of fortress mentality that only serves to piss off further and make more determined those with a grudge. I had no idea how the powers that be were reacting; my only hope is that that UK doesn’t pull up its draw bridge. I have made so many friends during my time in the US that I have a greater sense of internationalism than ever before. I hate to think that the response to this horrendous event will result in the loss of freedom (and I use that word lightly) to travel the world over visiting friends and loved ones. Pulling the duvet over heads, drawing the curtains and refusing to trust anything or anyone that is different will isolate us from our friends, as well as those who consider themselves to be our enemies and it appears right now we need all the friends we can get. Although, that’s not the ‘British’ way, and besides which, as much as he might think he is, Bush isn’t our leader !!!!!!!!
…… Each evening I continued to stroll the exhausting (!) half a block to
Jardiniere to be fed fine food and have drinks poured for me by bar staff who knew my name, asked me how my day had been and how long I was staying (simply, I’m sure, on the basis that I was keeping their boss happy, as opposed to any desire to continue enjoying my company!).
On Wednesday, once Shana had finished at work, we strolled down to the renovated ferry building, enjoyed cocktails and met more of her restaurant trade friends. I was on a mission to compare mojitos across the city (Katherine/Col – Shana knows the ‘Mojito story’ of Kate G. and I, now she really does have an idea of the loon she is involved with). Despite buying food for a quiet night in, we hatched a last minute plan – why not go camping?! Neither of us are short on spontaneity it seems, so after goodbye drinks at Jardiniere we threw the tent in the back of the truck and headed for Point Reyes.
We arrived in the dark, pitched the tent and cooked salmon over an open fire (salmon- we’re just classy birds I guess !). As usual in these parts raccoons attempted to join us (and a cat that beat them all on girth size), although they seemed unimpressed by the balsamic vinegar (no taste, clearly a Big Mac fan). Campsites in America (well, the 2 I’ve stayed at) are much more orderly than those I have experienced in the UK, none of this ‘there’s the field, pitch your tent anywhere’ malarkey. In the US there’s a space for your tent, a parking bay (cars must be factored into every activity in this country, they seem to be as necessary as a pulse!), picnic table, fire pit and a lockable cupboard to keep the wildlife from your jam and toothpaste. Very civilised.
The next day we followed a beautiful wooded trail to the ocean. Although, I must admit to a longing for a hiking route that requires a compass and doesn’t involve trails that you could drive a bus down, I quite like the challenge of getting lost occasionally. A fabulous blue sky was complemented by an amazing view, and then it was a brisk walk home and a drive to the airport.
I’m sure you can imagine the rest of the story, I won’t dwell on it. The ‘movie’ had a typically filmic goodbye. I wonder how many internationally flavoured ‘gay goodbyes’ have occurred at San Francisco Airport. The airport staff probably reach the week following Pride and take bets as to how many will occur !! (update, we both have air tickets to New York and will meet up in September).
