Vancouver 2010

There’s so much of our trip away I want to write about but this one feels like a burning need as we come to the close of the year.

During our trip to New York one of the places I really wanted to go to was Ground Zero. I don’t know why it felt important, there are so many burning images of that day. The iron cross from the girders of the building, the loss, the sadness….

As we wandered around the site it was little more than any other building site if you hadn’t known what was once there. I don’t know if I was disapointed or relieved. As we walked round it’s perimeter we came across the WTC Tribute Visitor Centre, just as a tour was leaving led by family members and survivors

We were taken round the site by Michael (a retired fire Lt. who was there helping on the day), and Rosemary (whose son George was a fire-fighter killed on the day) were our guides. Their stories, the pain, so poignant as they recounted that day and the months that followed.

Rosemary sparkled as she spoke about her son George and his love of life, how they didn’t find him until New Years Day. I asked her in a quiet moment as we walked around how she felt people coming, paying money to go on these tours. I guess I was questioning my own reasons for being there.

She smiled at me and said “It’s a tribute you came here. It’s a tribute you remember. Go home tell people to come, hear our story, tell them not to forget.” She handed me and others a picture of George and ask that we light a candle for him. “He liked adventure” she said with a twinkle.

As we returned to the centre to see the the exhibition, it felt so much more real than it did as I stood there just 2hrs earlier. I looked across the the faces staring at me from the wall, I wanted each of them to know they were remembered. I thought of so many tragedies that happen around the world every day. The names, the faces, this was just one of many.

As this year comes to an end something Michael said resounds. He spoke of the guilt he carried for years of the days and weeks he worked on the World Trade Centre Site. How one day he was pulled into the triage area, and was given a massage to help alleviate the stress. He said he shrugged the woman off full of guilt that someone was doing something for him, when there was so many other things to do.

He said after finally being able to talk about he reasises that that woman who gave him that massage was giving what she could He said “Be involved.  Do something for your community. Its the small things that may seem insignificant to you, that may mean the most important to others”

Our flight home was from Newark, which was a perfect excuse to spend our last new days in New York City. I’d never visited there at all, Veronica had been once before, so had memories to share. But there was one last stop on the way first.

We stopped to spend one night with M and her partner P in Milford. We needed a little downtime, a transition before reaching New York – and we had a perfect break here. There was great food, cakes, proper tea, and Rock Band. We did take a drive out to get train tickets to New York, and admire the local Christmas Light Crazies, but the rain was coming down hard, and some of the lights were off, so we didn’t get the full experience. It just meant all the time to play Rock Band. There’s something about that game that just makes for a wonderfully fun, silly, social space.. Everytime Ive played it, has been a good time, with good people. This was no exception. We got to New York City around Monday lunchtime. We’d found a nice hotel in Chinatown (Hotel 91) at a good price via TripAdvisor. The only possible complaint would be that it was near the Manhatten Bridge, so there were occasional train noises – but nothing you couldn’t sleep through. For the price, it was a really nice hotel. We dropped our bags off, grabbed a quick lunch at a Mexican restaurant, then headed straight for the Staten Island Ferry. Our original plan had been to head up the Statue of Liberty, but there were no tickets available for the crown until January. In a way, I was glad, there’s something more romantic about being on that ferry, that I’ve seen in so many movies and TV shows. I felt the “wow, I’m in a movie” feeling once before, in San Francisco.. but I felt it again strongly in New York, and it started here. Watching the skyline of Manhatten, sailing past Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, watching water taxis in the harbour, and bracing ourselves against the icy cold wind. On Staten Island, a quick walk out and around, and we were back on the ferry home. Light was fading, but there were still half a dozen photographers braced against the cold on deck. As the sun set, there was an amazing red glow on the horizon – I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sunset as red. Coastguard boats, water taxis, and the other ferry slipped past us, heading directly into the red glow. Eventually, we had to go inside. Even with our Canadian thermal layers, it was just too cold. The thermometer inside was reading 2F, -16C: and the dry wind was cutting even colder. So it was a pleasure to watch Manhatten drift closer through the ferry windows.

None of this felt quite real yet. Arriving in New York had felt like getting out of a taxi, into Hong Kong – Chinatown is so large, there seems to be no end to it. Then we’d walked through a basement door into a little piece of Mexico for food. Then another magic taxi, this time to the Staten Island Ferry. So, after warming up in the hotel, it felt great to head out and meet a local to get to know New York a little better.

That evening we met up with R, who lived in Edinburgh for a while, but is now back in New York. Our taste of New York evenings involved walking down snowy streets, Artichoke Pizza (so very scrummy!), cocktails at Art Bar (smashing pumpkin pie martinis!), drinks in Highlands (a Scottish gastro-pub, with a half-decent whisky selection and Irish barstaff), then back to R’s apartment to see just how tiny Manhatten apartments can be, and help dispose of the tail end of a bottle of whisky.

It was all wonderful, but I think the magical part for me was walking through New York streets, with snow on the ground, snow drifting in the air, very cold crisp air. R also helped us put together a plan for the next day – a route to walk between most of the things we wanted to see and do.

The trip home felt a bit surreal too – sharing the airport lounge with Gordon Brown and his security entourage, being unable to sleep on the way back because my head was spinning too much with all these experiences.. and then, the jet lag. It’s been a blur since.. And I guess that’s us home. The end of an adventure. Perhaps just room for one, last, reflection before I close this particular book.

15th September, 2006: I get an email from B, asking if she can introduce us to a friend who just moved to the UK. Virtual introductions done, we end up meeting said friend,  L,  at an event in London. L and her husband, J, had moved to live in Durham for a few years.

There was much hanging out over the years since, including us crashing at their flat in the chaos of the last weekend before they relocated back to the US, and them visiting us in the chaos of our last few days in the UK before our trip to Vancouver. L and J told us a lot about Boston, their friends and community there especially, so, of course, when we had the chance to.. we had to visit them in Boston. This was slightly complicated by the fact that they don’t live in Boston any more – instead, they live in State College, which I’m reliably informed is “a university town in the arse-end of no-where”. But thankfully, lots of their friends still live in Boston, and S and R (dispite never having met me at all before) offered us all the chance to stay at their house. Not only the chance to stay at their house, in fact, but the chance to stay at their house along with L and J, and be spoiled silly in the process.

This was a plan of much awesomeness, and I would  have been looking forward to it immensely – had I not developed food poisoning on the train from Chicago. I had cinnamon french toast for breakfast, and scrummy as it was, I have the horrible feeling that it was cooked earlier and reheated. In any event, it was the only thing I ate before I got ill that Veronica didn’t also eat, and by lunchtime, I was feeling a bit ill. By mid-afternoon, I was feeling very ill, and all I could do was sleep. I was so glad we had a bedroom on the train, because I really couldn’t have coped with other people in my space. As the day went on, I got more and more and more ill. By the time the train arrived in Boston, I could barely carry my bags the hundred yards from the train to the station, and I was cursing Veronica  for stopping and taking a picture of the Boston station sign. We’d got in 30 minutes early, dispite the snow storms, so we called L , and she, S and J came to collect us. The rest of that night is a blur, I believe we got back to the house, and I went straight to bed. The first part of the week is a blur, I think it was some time till I emerged from the haze of illness. I didn’t eat properly for days. I couldn’t concentrate, and wasn’t entirely aware of what was going on around me. So, I didn’t really appreciate the things I was doing till later in the week. Which was a real shame.. because..

On Tuesday, we went to a genuine Irish pub. It had genuine Irish staff, genuine Irish bands playing in the evening, decent Irish food, half-decent Guinness.. and ahem.. no brown sauce.

Then we went on to the Diesel Cafe, which L talked endlessly about missing while she was in the UK. I’d been looking forward to being there, meeting some of the Boston community, but I really wasn’t very present – the time drifted by in a blur, and I don’t remember much of it. Apologies to anyone I met there and didn’t meet again later, I probably don’t remember.

On Wednesday, we took a trip to Salem. It was very much out of season, so it was really a quick wander through the town, poking in various witchy shops, checking out the goth clothing shop, and getting a quick bite to eat. It was a pretty surreal experience, especially while still feeling somewhat ill. The shops were pretty touristy, really, but I guess that’s to be expected. Not that I had any real senses capable of detecting genuine witchiness that day.

Then, in the evening, we visited friends of  S ‘s, M & K, to learn how to make dolma (stuffed vine leaves). For me, this was more “learn how to eat stuffed vine leaves”, as I didn’t really make it off the sofa. I confess I’d been somewhat wary of the evening, I’d never enjoyed stuffed vine leaves before – when I’ve had them, they’ve been from a deli, and probably sitting soaking in olive oil for days. They were good though, and I wished I felt well enough to really enjoy them properly. Clearly the secret is making them yourself so you can eat them fresh.Thursday.. well, that was secret day. Not telling anyone what I did that day.  Thankfully I was feeling mostly better, though. In the evening, we visited S’s friends P & A for dinner. P made a simple fish dish, and honestly it was wonderful, the first food I’d enjoyed since Monday. Clearly, I was recovered.

Just as well, because Friday was a party in our honour at S ‘s house, with the theme of American Comfort Food. It was a potluck, where people brought a dish that typified comfort food for them. There were 77 people there, felt like pretty much their whole community of friends came – although I’m told this was a small party for  S’s house (there have been over 200 at summer parties).  I was feeling lots better, so did get to enjoy the food, and enjoy hanging out with people. There was lots of great food – my favourites probably the venison stew, mac’n’cheese, tuna casserole (weirdly with crisps on top!), egg-nog,  cookie dough, dulche du leche, salt and sweet popcorn – but there were so many more things, I could have eaten till I burst. There was one more amazing thing about the party though: B, who we’d known since 2003 but never actually met, made it to the party. Felt right her being there, as we’d never have been there without her introduction back in 2006. There was an amazing hug when she found me in the kitchen when she came in, then of course, she had to sneak up on Veronica and deliver more hugs.

B also came round for a while on Saturday to hang out with us.. When you’re catching up on 7 years, though, there’s never enough time. I didn’t get to see anything of Boston as a tourist, really, but that wasn’t why I was there. I wanted to see the Boston that L had talked about, meet the people she’d talked about, see things the way she did. I got to do all of that, and spend a whole week in wonderful company with her, J, S, R and family. It was an amazingly warm, welcoming space to spend time in. I’m not normally very comfortable around other people when I feel ill, but I felt very accepted and safe there. There didn’t feel like there was enough time, not by half, but all that says was that it was a very good space to be in.

I’m home now. There hasn’t been any quiet time since Chicago to write, really, so I’m due some catchup on the travel writing. Allowing for jetlag, and the inevitable panic over Xmas shopping, it may be a few days before I catch up. I really need to do justice to the experiences of Boston and New York in particular, so hurried writing just isn’t going to cut it – and I’ve about 500 New York photos to sort through.It is good to be home, although there are now people all over North America I’m missing intensely. It’s the people that make the places for me – so even places where I didn’t see anything more than the inside of people’s houses can be intense and wonderful experiences.

More soon.. !

A week in Chicago, and most of a week in Boston, and no update? I’ve been ill, I’m afraid. I had a busy and fun week in Chicago, then hopped on the Amtrak train to Boston – where I came down with some sort of food poisoning that got worse and worse through the train journey. I’ve spent most of this week in Boston unable to eat much, but have been gradually getting better. Yesterday was probably my first 100% day.. just in time for the “American Comfort Foods” party..Tomorrow, we’re off to Conneticut.. as a stop on the way to New York, and then leaving for home on Wednesday.

Writing about Chicago and Boston is coming.. but will be a little delayed.

Written yesterday, on the way to Chicago…

Our last week in Vancouver started with a weekend away in Portland, to spend an early Thanksgiving with Nick and Sandra. The snow had started falling on the mountains, and I hoped it wouldn’t stop us flying. It didn’t. The airport stayed clear,but we did have an amazing view from the runway of the mountains, before boarding our tiny plane to the US.

Neither Veronica or I had ever celebrated Thanksgiving in America, so while we knew it was important, we didn’t really get why. Harvest festivals in Scotland (and Canada) are fairly low key events. I’d always been told that if you celebrate Thanksgiving with someone, you’re essentially being accepted as family – and Nick and Sandra have felt like family for a good while now. So, we spent the weekend planning dinner, cooking, eating, hanging out and talking, playing games, drinking, and celebrating all the things we’re grateful for in this past year. It felt like a UK Christmas, except that there was no presents, no tree, and no cheesy music. OK, there was cheesy music, but it was the Scissor Sisters, not Roy Wood. There were just the four of us for most of the weekend, plus Sandra’s friend Theresa for the dinner. Someone else I wish lived 5000 miles closer, would love to get to know her better too.

I’ve still got lots of thoughts circulating in my head from that weekend, echoes of late night conversations, reflections on non-verbal communication, and general musing on the nature and importance of friendship. I’m sure I’ll write more about that later.

Monday night we visited locals Carol and James, who spontaneously invited us for dinner. Veronica got to try some very nice Pacific salmon cooked on the BBQ (because the oven was full of cookies), then we decided to brave the hot tub. Brave, because it was -9C outside, and it was a very long four yards from getting undressed, to getting in the water. But sitting in hot water, under a full moon and starry sky, on such a cold night, is just amazing. Conversation was great too – echoes of the weekend as we all reflected on love and friendships.

Wednesday night I went to an ice hockey game with some of the guys from work. Met Len and Rich in the Railway Bar, which does a decent impression of a British pub. We all reckoned the barmaid had a weird, almost-English accent., and were trying to place it without luck. So I asked her, and she claimed to have lived in Vancouver all her life. This had to be a lie – no-one in Vancouver is actually from Vancouver :). Then off to the game with Frank and Cristian, leaving Rich and Len to follow the game on a lousy pub TV. I’ve only ever been to one ice hockey game before, but since that was in the 80’s, and it was Dundee Rockets, I’m going to claim that doesn’t count. I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy it, team sports usually bore me, but the atmosphere was great, and hockey is such a fast paced game – I really got into it. Many thanks to Frank for explaining everything; I’d have been horribly confused otherwise. I’d definitely go to another game: it’s expensive but a lot of fun. And the Canucks won! Yay!

Thursday it snowed hard. Vancouver is one of those places, like most of the UK, where most people can’t drive on snow, so a lot of people work from home, or take a day off. The streets were deserted, so quiet when I left for work. I’d vaguely planned to meet Veronica and another local, Tracey, for lunch – but pretty much expected they’d both cancel as soon as the notices of stoppages on the Skytrain, and re-routed buses, started coming in. But sometimes it just feels important to do something, even if you dont know why, so I went out anyway, and they both battled through snow and transit chaos to meet up. Seems it felt equally important to Tracey too. Now, if we could only figure out why 😉

Then, all of a sudden it’s our last night in Vancouver. We celebrated it the same way we’d marked our first night – a ride across the water on the Aquabus to Granville Island, wander round the Market, grab some food.  And fit in a quick drink with Tally on the way. Then home to try and fit too much stuff into our cases. Not terribly successfully; had to leave one bag behind to collect when I’m over in January, and we were still over our weight limit. Thankfully, gold card holders are forgiven such minor indiscretions, but we’ll need to plan something different before we get the train to Boston. Amtrak doesn’t take overweight bags at all.

I’m sitting on the plane to Chicago now, writing this, reflecting back on an amazing two months. It was hard work with long hours, but it let me kayak in Canada, see orcas, see eagles and hawks in the wild, and meet some amazing people. Some of you defined my time here – Nick, Sandra, Kiki, Ivo, Allena, Carole, Cassidy and Gord, Len, Jason, Zak and Mandy in particular all shared moments that made Vancouver feel like home. And of course, all the great people I work with out here – you constantly amaze me with how passionate you are about your work, how willing to learn and grow, and how talented you are. There’s a few people I’d have loved to spend more time with too. Maybe next time. One way or another, there will be a next time.

Before I move onto the next chapter, Chicago, I’m also reflecting on how many Scots we met in Vancouver – from our first kayak instructor, to countless Scots working in bars and shops, to meeting Billy Connelly in the Air Canada lounge. Of course, they were all Weegies, but we can’t have everything 🙂

On to new adventures. I’ve pressed the big blue start button, and Chicago is rushing towards us.