ghosts of new year's eve past

It has been a little while between posts, for which I apologise. I'm hoping that you've all been as busy as I have, so no one noticed. But what better subject to return with than New Year's Eve. Not usually my favourite time of the year. For no particular reason other than I've rarely had a great NYE, despite all the hype.

Yes it's a time to reflect on the year gone by, but that doesn't take very long these days. (Remember in primary school when the year went sooooo sssslllooowwww, and now I think I'm still tired from not enough sleep last NYE) I could focus on the year coming, but I'll barely get through thinking about January and it will be February already. I'm not one for New Year's resolutions. I never keep them and I'm old enough to know that I never will.

However, despite the fact I may not enjoy the occasion all that much, it's still a memorable time, so on this New Year's Eve Eve (still one sleep to go in Canada) I'm going to take a trip down memory lane.

2000: New Year's Eve had never been so anticipated. Was the world going to end? Were we going to lose all our money in the bank? Would our mobile phone networks die? Turns out, none of the above. The most eventful thing about this NYE was me trying to stay awake. Mum and Dad hosted a party at the farm (my uncle was visiting from Canada) and I struggled to make it to midnight.

2003: Finally I was old enough to be left unsupervised for a NYE. I spent it at Sisters Beach with my friends (THE place to be on NYE once upon a time). There was a lot of drinking (not by me) and a lot of trashing what is usually a gorgeous area (again not me). What did I do? Spent most of the night avoiding some guy because no, I did not want to go for a "walk" on the beach.

2005: Ah the Falls Festival. Year's later it's still THE thing to do on NYE. I was never a big fan. This year I was working during the day but trekked back out in the evening to camp. The only thing I really remember was having a fight with my then-boyfriend.

2008: Off to the Burnie Beach for the fireworks, but before the clock struck 12 I ran away, went home and watched Clueless. The reason: avoiding a boy (I seem to do a lot of this on NYE).

2009: Ok my best NYE so far. I made no plans, bought a bottle of champagne and sat at home and watched Casablanca. This is the only NYE tradition I may repeat.

2010: This New Year's Eve comes a close to second to the year before. The girls and I went to the beach, watched the fireworks, and were all in bed at a reasonable hour. We weren't hungover, we weren't tired and the fireworks were pretty.

2011: Another reason I always associate NYE with being a dud. I finished work at 11, went to the beach with friends at 11.30, caught the bus home at 12.10am, drove back downtown town to cart all my friends back to their house. In bed by 1am.

2012: Well who knows. I have a huge day at work (shifts at both my jobs), will finish late and have got a copy of Casablanca just in case.

New Year's Day fireworks at the 2009 Burnie Carnival

Was that a bit depressing? Perhaps. But just because I don't enjoy NYE, doesn't mean I spend the whole time feeling sorry for myself. Perhaps a quick reflection on the very awesome memories I have of this time of year (excluding NYE) is needed.

Taste of Tasmania: Only the best event ever! How can it not be? A 10-day event dedicated to eating and drinking outside in the sun. I've already seen some pictures of the latest berry platter at the 2011 event and all I can say to those people is that I hope you ate so much that you felt sick. Not just slightly sick, but never-want-to-eat-again type of sick. Top it off with the boats coming in from the Sydney to Hobart and you have yourself a very nice few days.

New Year's Day Sports: The North-West Coast's greatest tradition. A day of running, cycling and woodchopping. Not by me of course. I'd spend it eat numerous bags of 50c lollies and steak sandwiches. And lying upside down on the cycling track to watch the fireworks.

Tapas in Salamanca: This is a relatively new tradition for me, and one I'm not sure when I'll get to enjoy again. Christmas brings a lot of friends back to Hobart. And Salamanca in the summer, well it doesn't get much better. Unless accompanied with little bits of food and lots of wine. The most memorable? Ordering one of everything off the menu at a new tapas bar. It wasn't until later that we realised how annoying that must have been for the kitchen. 

christmas contest

White Christmas Pro: Power is cheaper so more people decorate their house.

After surviving my first not-quite-white-but-really-cold-Christmas in North America, I feel equipped to compare it to my previous 25 mostly-warm-with-the-occasional-rainy-day Christmas I'm used to in Australia.

White Christmas pros:

• The Christmas lights look better, and since it gets dark at 4.30pm, you can enjoy them for longer. Who has the time to stay up till 10pm when it's dark to go look at lights?
• A roast turkey and accompanying hot vegetables is just what I feel like.
• A lot of Christmas carols mention snow, so they are more believable.
• Peppermint Mocha's at Starbucks. And yes, dear server, I will send it back if you forget the chocolate sprinkles on top.
• It's cold enough for a Bridget-Jones style Christmas sweater. I mean jumper.

White Christmas Pro: The lights at Van Dusen Botanical Garden close at 9pm. That's nearly
5 hours of night-time viewing. Wouldn't and couldn't happen in Australia.

Warm Christmas pros:

• It's stone fruit season. And there are fresh berries.  
• Christmas shopping is easier when you're not wearing five layers of clothing and carrying a big jacket.
• Backyard cricket and Boxing Day cricket.

White Christmas cons:

• It's too cold outside to have outdoor carols. There's also a 93.5% chance of rain. That's slightly higher than the odds in Tasmania.
• North Americans don't know what pavlova is. Therefore they don't make it for dessert. Christmas without pav? Definition of sacrifice.

Warm Christmas Pro: Pavlova. Enough said.

Warm Christmas cons:

• It's too hot for roast turkey and vegetables, but it doesn't quite feel like Christmas without it.
• Power prices have risen so much that nobody can afford to decorate their houses. Legislation suggestion: discounted power for those who put on a show for the festive season.
• My feet get too hot when I wear fuzzy Christmas socks.

After weighing up both sides, I'm leaning towards a summer Christmas. In the end it came down to the pav. But if there had been snow, it might be a different story. Until next year...

excited as a kid on white christmas

There are some things age will never take from me.
My sweet tooth, a love of Winnie the Pooh, the lyrics to MMMBop (not by choice) and my excitement at seeing snow.
I had an early start one morning last week so I rugged up and headed off downstairs. I got to the door to the street and looked outside. Turned, raced back up the stairs, grabbed my camera, and headed out again.

South Hill, my current 'hood, is not remotely picturesque. Bubble tea signs do not make for attractive landscape. But with a good crop of snow on the streets, covering the cars and dusting the trees, Cantonese Canada actually looked pretty. I've been told snow in Vancouver is rare. It's happening more and more, but general advice was not to get my hopes up. The snow that scattered the streets by no means called for a day home from school. There was barely enough for a dwarf snowman. But it was snow.

Yes, I was that person walking down the street photographing the white stuff. The most striking image was the cemetery with the mountains in the background. I'd expected it to melt quickly, but there was still plenty around when I left the gym, when I left home for work later, and even when I caught the bus home from work. My joy wasn't easily contained either. In fact I was asked an embarrassingly number of times if it was the first time I'd seen snow. Which is isn't. Not by a long shot.

While the snow had made me giddy, I could feel my 'adult' reasoning edging it's way into my head. I was concerned about the lack of tread on my gumboots and walked cautiously to avoid ending up with my butt on the pavement and I left for work with a ridiculous amount of time to spare because the buses were travelling extremely slow, along with the rest of the traffic. The visual appeal also faded. The beautiful fall leaves I love didn't stand a chance. They became a tinted slop in the gutter mid-morning. The fog came in, which blocked my view of the mountains. The final straw was the newspapers on the ground that looked like they were in the first stage of recycling - a mush on the pavement. It was also damn cold. I might as well have stuck my fingers in the snow for all the good my gloves were doing me.

The next day, everything was still gleaming. And my excitement returned. There wasn't fresh snow, but the weather hadn't discouraged what was there. Car rooftops were still covered, the pavement still crunched underfoot and I was still imagining the snowman I'll build when it really snows. I walked to the bus stop enjoying my wintery surrounds, but this time sans-camera. After all, I am a local now.

landing in a fairytale

Not long after I arrived in Vancouver, a customer recommended I go to Steveston, a small fishing village about 30km from the city. The same conversation also included a comment about how she doesn't know anyone in Richmond anymore because they are all - looks around and then whispers - "Asian". But despite this, what she said about Steveston sounded nice so I put it on my list.

After several weeks of replying "Oh I might go to Steveston" when asked my plans for my days off, I finally made it - luckily on the only sunny day of my three off this week. I hopped off the bus at Steveston village and landed right in the middle of a fairytale. I don't mean by this that Steveston is a charming village that makes you feel like you stepped into some magical, old fashioned world. I mean an actual fairytale - the filming for Once Upon A Time, a new prime-time show starring all the fairytale crew: Cinderella, Snow White, Rumpelstiltskin, Prince Charming, and of course an Evil Queen. The show began airing last month and has been picked up for the full series. In pure coincidence, I'd only heard about the show the day before. A lot of filming is done in Canada, particularly in British Columbia, because it's cheaper than the States. In fact a horror film about Tasmanian Devils will start filming next month. For Steveston it means some action during the quieter winter months.

Robert Carlyle, aka Rumpelsliltskin, filming Once Upon A Time

The town is on the water and has a busy port area. In summer it's a popular destination, but cooler weather doesn't so much scream 'let's all go eat fish and chips and ice cream by the water'. So having a series shot in the streets for the next month or so is good news. One of the main streets has become Storybrooke. An marine shop has been boarded up and is now the Storybrooke Library, the studio has rented two shops to film in and put up several mock-shopfronts over existing businesses. I got chatting to a local who's a big fan of Robert Carlyle (of Full Monty fame among other BBC productions), who plays Rubpelstiltskin. She said the crew had been really accommodating of the curiosity of locals and visitors and were happy to have people hanging about watching or taking photos. We could still enter the shops in the area they were filming, but sometimes had to wait for the director to yell 'cut' before walking down the street. The businesses are compensated for lost business and lot of the employees on the shoot are locals, so it's a big boost for the town.

So back to Steveston. I'd expected it to be quieter than if I'd visited in summer and I'm glad that was the case. Dave's Fish and Chips (the place my customer had recommended I have lunch) was still packed though. I was disappointed to discover the fish served there is from Alaska. It would be like a fish shop in Stanley (Fishing port in Tasmania) serving fish from New Zealand in my books. Why on earth would you? But it filled a hole. As did the cupcake from Bell's Bakery afterwards. One part of the town gives the impression of a small fishing village - small craft stores and little coffee shops, always named after someone (Dave's Fish and Chips, Sara's Ice Cream etc), but then one street over is Starbucks, McDonald's and apartments towering over the shops on the street, their windows straining for views over the water.


It was a beautiful day however. Chilly, but lots of sunshine. I could see why this place was so popular. I spent the afternoon wandering around the shops, periodically going back to the filming to see what they were up to. I watched one scene (Rumpelstiltskin's alter ego "Mr Gold" pulling up in his car and his chauffeur opening the door for him) which took a phenomenal amount of time to put together. The shot must only last seconds in the episodes, but it took so much effort. I'll have to start watching the show now.

vancouver's top sanga!

Meat and bread. A great combination, yes. Also the name of my new favourite lunch place. No surprise there. If you know me well then you know I love a good sandwich.

My absolute favourite is an old family recipe: a honey piecey. (piecey: [noun] piece of bread folded to create a sandwich).

After significant research I can tell you where to find the best salad sanga in Burnie. The answer is Bakers Dozen for taste and Trio for price.

And I admit a sultana or raisin sandwich (just bread, butter and raisins) is weird, but it's damn tasty.

So when I heard about a place that apparently sells Vancouver's best sandwiches, I was more than intrigued.

It took a little while to get down there, but I made it a few weeks ago.

Meat and Bread only has four sandwiches on its menu. The famed porchetta, with crackling (pictured); meatball; grilled cheese; and a daily special which has included braised veal, and hoisin beef (not together...two separate sandwiches).
Both times I've stuck with the porchetta. The first time because it was all anybody had talked about. The second time because it was so darn good the first time. The sandwich is made on the spot. There's a guy charged with carving up a huge roast pork. The next guy plops it straight on the bun when you order and adds a drizzle of salsa verde. All the other sandwiches are made to order too. There's usually a line, but it's worth the wait.
There are a couple of other things on the menu - a daily soup and salad, and maple and bacon ice cream sandwich. Ok, don't pull that face. The ice cream sandwich is actually pretty tasty. At the end of the day, it's ice cream. How bad could it get?

But there's more to my love of Meat and Bread than just food. While the cafe has about three two-seater tables, the masses feed at one long, wooden table running almost the length of the cafe. The other alternative is the end of the counter. Either way you end up squished up next to, or seated across from strangers. I can't help but adore the conventional and social nature of it all.

three months and three days

My inspiration. Minus the beard.

Three months and three days. That's how long until I take to the start line for my first half-marathon.
That's 95 days.
Or 2280 hours.
Or 8,208,000 seconds.
I like the bigger numbers better. It tricks me into believing I have an infinite amount of time to train.
After toying with the idea for a few weeks, when registrations opened for the "First Half" Half Marathon I was more than tempted. The event is limited to 2000 runners, and entries are usually full in a couple of hours. There's nothing like the threat of missing out to make me jump into action.
I've been running significantly less than I used to - both in frequency and distance. I put it down to having no dog to exercise, and no work-place stress to deal with. When life is just peachy, there's less motivation to exercise.
But that's going to have to change.
Joining VanRun - The Vancouver Running and Jogging Club - has helped my motivation. Usually because there's food on offer after each run. But I'm also surrounded by people who do some pretty amazing things.
Melissa - a gym manager/triathlete. Was nervous about a recent half-marathon because running isn't her strong suit. Even though she keeps the men on their toes on VanRun outings.
Craig - knocked over a 50-mile event on the weekend and has a 100-mile run this weekend. Crazy much?
Alison - a new mum who managed to overtake many an embarrassed competitor at a recent half-marathon. Why were they embarrassed? She was pushing a pram as she did the race.
Post-run talk over sushi or beers is dominated by war stories: "The time I did a triathlon without training." "Remember that marathon in 100-degree heat."
This talk has one of two effects. Either you are completed intimidated by these super-humans who clearly need to learn to relax. Or you start to think that if they can do it, why can't I?
I'm not under the impression this will be easy. I'm the most unfit I have been for years. It's not the best starting point to train for the longest run I've ever done. But I'm also going to need something to keep me going during the winter. It's not the time one wants to be running outside. It's damn cold!
But with a beanie, long tights and gloves, I've got few excuses.
So how did my first post-registration run go? Well I slacked off 20 minutes into a 40-minute evening run. Great start huh?

eat and greet

At first glance, The Social Feed could be mistaken as a dating opportunity. And when I've told people about the concept, it's the first question asked. Why else join a group of strangers for dinner? While a romance to eventuate from the events would make a great story, it's not even close to the motivation of the organisers, or the guests, of Social Feed dinners.

The creators, three friends from university, enjoyed hosting dinner parties. Friends would come, they would bring their friends, and eventually these guys were having complete strangers for dinner. Sandy, one of the masterminds, said they found the more random the group of people, the more fun the evenings. Five months ago the guys took the concept from social to commercial and launched The Social Feed. They organise regular long-table dinners at restaurants in Vancouver, opening up the seats to anyone who wants to come. The dinners are limited to about 20 people. The concept is very welcoming to those who come alone and those who come with others are encouraged to sit side-by-side to open up conversation around the table.


The dinners sell out quickly. After all, it's a pretty good deal. The meals usually consist of several dishes and the price averages at $20-24, including tax and tip. On Wednesday night, the dinner was at Cork and Fin, an upmarket seafood restaurant in Gastown. The restaurant does a Prix Fixe menu of three dishes for $32 (before tax and tip). The Social Feed diners enjoyed a very similar menu for $24 (including tax and tip).

This particular group were mostly women. There were a few SF regulars (including Sandy) but most of us were first-timers. The intriguing concept has gained a bit of media attention in the last few months and appealed to a variety of people. Some are new to the city and having trouble breaking into new social groups given the insular nature of a lot of Vancouverites. Others just like the idea of enjoying a good dinner. So far, every event on the website has sold out. Everyone comes with the same idea - to meet new people and enjoy good food. With that as common ground, conversation flows easily around the table.

The organisers partner with a variety restaurants. Past locations include a Lebanese restaurant, Chinese, vegetarian, Irish pubs and traditional Canadian fare. There is also a focus on local produce.  The menu consists of dishes placed in the centre of the table, adding to the interaction between diners.

 Our menu at Cork and Fin:

Sawmill Bay Oysters with Champagne and cracked pepper mignonette

Lobster Bisque with truffle cream

Beef Tenderloin with Dungeness Crab Hollandaise served with Haricots Verts and Nugget Potatoes

At the moment The Social Feed operates only in Vancouver. However, Sandy and Reg, another partner, tossed a coin to see who would move to Toronto to branch out. Reg won, or lost, depending on how you look at it. The organisation is also planning an expansion into the States, with San Francisco on the agenda.

don't take candy from strangers? not tonight

The pumpkins came first.

In a city where I have yet to see pumpkin soup on any menu, super-size versions of the vegetable popped up outside every supermarket overnight.

Then the fireworks appeared. Temporary shops opened in every available retail space selling every type of (legal) firework. As dark fell, the pop and fizz of the fireworks could be heard nightly from my apartment. It was rare to see a spark though. The legal versions must be fairly tame.

My first Halloween began in earnest a week before the main event, at Fright Nights - an annual Halloween extravaganza held at an old amusement park. Some of the rides are permanent, but most of the Fright Nights attractions are installed for the occasion: several haunted houses, film students dressed in costume roaming in the dark, terrifying unsuspecting visitors (me), and other related performances. By my second haunted house I was ready to go - either home or to a magical place filled with bunnies and lollies. The smoke machines were made redundant by the damp and foggy Vancouver evening. I did brave the roller coaster, which was an achievement. The wooden ride, built in 1953, rattled like its last ride would be the one you're on. And a haunted house full of clowns? Clowns are scary enough thank you very much.

With the event itself falling on a Monday, the "grown up" crazies hit the streets on the weekend. A last-minute costume saw me dressed as a witch (right). My friend Victoria was more creative, donning her wet suit and some realistic make up as a shark-attack victim (below right). It is the one time of the year she could wear a wet suit on the bus and not look out of place. Her costume was far from outrageous in comparison to others we saw. One freaky looking character on the sky train had me staring at the floor the whole ride. Most of the clubs sell tickets to their Halloween events, but Victoria and I ended up at a local rugby club. Along with Gumby, Toad from Mario Brothers, Black Swan, a sexy airport inspector and the sexy sax man.

Australia has yet to adopt Halloween in all its candy-filled glory. A few people might hold costume parties. Stores are trying to cash in, but there hasn't been much take up. All I can say is thank god. My teeth barely survive Easter. By midday on Halloween, I was riding a sugar high. Lets thank my boss for sitting out a bowl of candy on the counter. And the lady in the kitchen who brought in chocolate cake. And the proximity of delicious treats at my work. It lasted all day.

While Halloween might be seen as another commercial-driven occasion, it is thoroughly embraced in North America. As soon as pumpkins were on sale, people were putting them in their gardens. Along with fake graves, skeletons, lights, cobwebs etc. While the costumes and parties are fun, Halloween itself is essentially enjoyed by children. Come dark (or just before dark for the little tackers) children dress up - in greatly considered costumes - and hit the streets 'to trick or treat. This year I joined them. Being too old to trick or treat myself (most kids stop about about 14) and not having any youngsters to chaperone, I walked through the neighbourhood to admire the festivities. Not every house took part. Those who opted out simply turned off all the lights and stayed at the back of the house. The more welcoming went to the effort of decorating their house, at least with a pumpkin outside, or in some cases got in costumes themselves. When one door swung open, there were buckets of candy ready to be given out. Halloween must become an expensive exercise.

Trick or treating in Kerrisdale

The trick or treaters weren't the least bit shy in approaching the houses. Most came back down the path reviewing their stash and directing their friends to the "good" houses. Others complained to their parents that their bags were too heavy. So they unloaded and kept going.

By Tuesday morning my belly ache from the sugar had subsided, the pumpkin supplies at the supermarket were dwindling and fireworks were 75% off. Advent calenders and Christmas decorations had taken their place. And so it goes on.

tipping the balance

In all my years in some sort of employment, I've never had to think much about my pay. I knew what my wage was and come a certain day of the week, I would get it.
Working as a server in Canada is a different story.
Most hospitality staff get minimum wage, which is less than $9 an hour, although it's going up in November. Some quick math: 38 hours x $9 = $342. Before tax. So how do thousands of hospitality staff survive in a city that isn't all that cheap to live in? Enter the North American custom of tipping.

In Australia, tipping is uncommon. If you get excellent service you might go out of your way to tip, but usually the only time we leave extra money is when we're too lazy to deal with the change: "Oh you can round that up to $20", one might say over a $18.75 bill. In both the US and Canada, tipping in bars and restaurants is expected. God help what your server will say about you if you don't. I know this because I know what I think about customers who don't tip. I like to give them the benefit of the doubt and think they either forgot or thought their friend was leaving one etc, which is most likely true, but it doesn't take away from the fact THEY DID NOT TIP!

When I arrived in New York I had to remind myself to tip and agonised over who and how much to tip. Common advice was 15%. 20% or more if it was good. So I would sit with my bill in a New York cafe and do the math, hoping that when I left, my server wouldn't make a mental note to spit in my drink if I ever came back. After all, minimum wage in parts of the US can be as low as $2 an hour. Or sometimes nothing.

Now that I rely on tips, I have a new perspective on the process. Tipping isn't just something you should do, or an amount or percentage pulled out of thin air. It's something that should be considered. Did you get good service? Did you get above average service? Did your server go out of his/her way to accommodate requests? Did you demand more of a server's time than the average customer. If so, consider that when leaving a tip. Most people I speak to say they leave 15%, but in practise I find the average to be more like 10%.

I went to a cafe the other day and ordered at the counter. The waitress gave me my drink there and brought my meal to my table. I never saw her again. She gave me about 30 seconds of her time. But that was fine, I didn't need any more. But I also factored that in when it came time to tip.

At a restaurant a few days later, the server greeted me when I joined my group, brought me a menu, took a drink order, brought my drink over, took my food order, updated me when the meal took a little longer than usual (without me asking about it), appeared regularly but not too frequently to see that everything at the table was OK and top us up with water. Because we were a large group, we paid a 17% automatic gratuity. She actually lost out with that because I would have left 20%. I kicked myself later for not doing so anyway.

As an employee, my wage depends on my performance. That applies to every customer I serve. So I can't slack off for a bit, because my wage suffers. It makes a change from getting paid for 8 hours work, even if I was late, enjoyed a prolonged morning tea and took a long lunch break - all in the one day. As a customer, I get better service because of tips. At home, my waitress might take her sweet time bringing out my drinks or checking on my meal because she's getting $18 an hour anyway. Here, my servers know that if they're not good at their job, they might not make rent this month. And that gets me my gin and tonic fast. Every time.

turning up the heat

"All you need is a yoga mat, a coffee mug and a rain jacket."

My yoga kit

This statement I heard recently sums up Vancouver perfectly. A quick search on Yelp found 48 yoga studios in Vancouver. Another search on vancouveryoga.com's class database found 146 classes offered in gyms, studios, community centres and more. Vancouver was also recently named the third worst-dressed city in the world because everyone wears yoga pants too often. Yoga is up there with riding a bike and recycling in the list of things one must do in Vancouver. Since my time in Vancouver is supposed to be about life experience and trying all the things I never had the opportunity or time to do in Tassie, yoga has been high on my list of things to do. The gym down the road opens on Saturday and that will have yoga all the time, but the other craze that interests me is Bikram Yoga. A new studio has opened up in a not-too-hard to reach location and offering a $49 for the month introductory deal. I'm going to take it, but first I decided to try an free intro class.

This isn't the studio I went to, just a random picture off
the web to give you the idea.

I've done bikram once before in Hobart. The class is 90-minutes, but it took 90 seconds to realise it wasn't going to come easily to me. For those that don't know, bikram is conducted in a room heated to 40C and involves 26 poses and a few breathing exercises. I'm not a fan of the heat, whether it involves sun or not, so this was always going to be a challenge. But learning to stick with things that fall in the too-hard basket is also part of my time here.

 

After my second class I can only compare me doing yoga to a white guy rapping - it just shouldn't be done. I adjusted to the heat a bit better than in my first class last year, but still got quite dizzy on a few poses and needed a quick sit-down. About 15 minutes I was wondering if it would be bad form to leave, but that urge subsided. I also wasn't looking for a clock to find out when it would be over, like last time. I left with a huge headache and feeling exhausted. But by the time I got home I had more energy than I have for ages. The memories of the hardest parts of class are still fresh and almost bad enough to keep me from going again. But I've set myself a challenge and I'm determined to see it through.

giving thanks for stretchy pants

The American influence on Australian popular culture means I know of a lot of things I don't know anything about, such as North American special occasions. Independence Day, Halloween, Superbowl etc. This week I got to experience one.

Before Monday, I knew Thanksgiving involved a turkey. And I thought Pumpkin Pie was just the cute name my friend Tracy gave her cat. (Because nobody would actually want to eat a pie with pumpkin in it, right?) I also thought the occasion was later in the year. As it turns out, the US celebrates Thanksgiving in November, and Canada in October. Despite the day marking the same thing.

I had been invited to celebrate the occasion with my cousin Vicky and her parents, but my work schedule didn't allow for that so I instead accepted Joe's invitation to dinner at his place. I thought Thanksgiving would be a quiet day at work, but it seems the holiday has gone the same way as most of the others on the calender - tradition is all but ignored. We were flat-out at work (and I didn't sell one turkey sandwich), but thanks to a quick history lesson from one of the chefs (combined with some trivia I learnt at burlesque the other week), by about lunchtime I was able to wish my customers a happy Thanksgiving, without muttering to one of my co-workers "I don't know what that means". Turns out there is more to Thanksgiving than turkey. There were pilgrims. And something to do with a harvest moon. Anyway, back to the food.

Instead of a turkey, Joe cooked a roast beef. We are Australians after all. But we did follow the usual traditions of pumpkin pie and eating waaaaay too much. If time had allowed I would have attempted baking my own pie, but it didn't so I didn't. Wholefoods supermarket provided well though.

I would have taken a 'before' pic of the serving with cream on top etc, but what
would have involved waiting before eating. Not gunna happen.

I had been assured by one of the girls are work that it was delicious but even as we served it up, I had my doubts. Pumpkin in a pie? Hmmm. Turns out there's about as much pumpkin in the pie as there is nutrition in a burger from McDonalds. It's mainly spices, a bit of pumpkin puree and other 'pie-like' ingredients (evaporated milk, loads of sugar etc). But it tastes OK...sort of.

Thanksgiving dinner ended with me lying down in Joe's kitchen for about half-an-hour before I felt able to go home. And giving thanks for wearing stretchy pants.

things that made me smile today

PARENTS KILLED BY NINJAS. NEED MONEY FOR KARATE LESSONS.
These were the words on a sign carried by I assume a homeless man on Granville St in Downtown Vancouver today. One has to admire his sense of humour when life doesn't seem to be going his way. It made me smile.

A former colleague from the paper, Kellíe O'Brien, has a blog (Three Li'l Princesses) and writes regularly of the things for which she is grateful. In similar fashion, I will share things that made me smile today.

On the window of the #8 bus heading downtown

It was an unremarkable Wednesday. In typical Vancouver fashion, it was raining. Rather than cosy up in bed all day, I limited that behaviour to just the morning and around lunchtime ventured Downtown to explore Gastown, an historical and hip area of Vancouver. I took my seat on the bus and looked out the window, only to be staring at this piece of graffiti. It might be harsh to label such a friendly message as such, but it is what it is. Either way, it made me smile as intended.

Walking through Gastown, a sushi place called Momo looked popular and cheap so I took a table. There wasn't much conventional about this particular sushi place. It was more retro than ramen. But the Spongebob Squarepants placemats made me chuckle.

After lunch I explored Gastown, which borders on a not-so-desirable part of town. As such several homeless people beg outside Gastown's up-scale stores. I wasn't carrying cash, which meant I wasn't lying when I told the beggers I didn't have any change. One begger told me that was OK as money wasn't everything. He told me what an incredible job his mother did because it isn't easy to raise someone to the age of 57 and left me with the challenge of thinking about what the most important thing in life. He also made me promise to keep smiling. So I did.

A poster on the side of a bus said something about Elton John. Another poster outside an arts theatre filled in the blanks. Love Lies Bleeding is a performance by the Alberta Ballet inspired by and featuring the songs of Elton John and Bernie Taupin. A ballet to Elton John songs? Yes thanks. Smile.

My day got rather mundane from here, but still plenty of reasons to smile.

• Finding the brand of rice cakes the girls at work have been raving about. I've been searching every supermarket I can find for the last three weeks without success until today.
• Using the rewards card I signed up for at Save on Foods supermarket so my French couchsurfers could get a discount when we were there a couple of weeks ago to save 50% on the frozen fish I have for dinner most nights.
• Hearing that my Mum is given a stuffed toy to squeeze at the dentist so she doesn't attack anyone.
• Realising that will be me in 30 years.

The night is still young so no doubt there will be more reasons to smile. The most recent one came through a Facebook conversation with my friend Joe. Joe had a gruelling 17-hour drive to San Fransisco the other weekend. I told him there were only so many times one could sing The Wheels on the Bus before you even yourself.
His answer?
"That number is 576".

I will not be going on a roadtrip with Joe.

when did sweet get so sour?

The fudge brownies look good don't they? Could you resist them if you saw them everyday, and as part of your job were allowed to eat a treat a day? These aren't even the ones I have to look at. The brownies at SGTC are delectable. The ones in the picture barely have any resemblance and I still want to eat one.

The temptation that comes with working in a cafe that sells some of the most delicious food I've ever come across (and I say this after spending a month in France and its patisseries) is immense. At first I indulged in the name of research. I should know what I'm selling right? Then it became hard to resist them because I found out how good they were. But a few weeks in and I noticed my heart was racing sometimes after I had a dessert...or anything with sugar. My skin wasn't looking great. And I was a little pudgy around the edges. It was time to make a call. Less sugar. I was going to be no-more sugar, but I need to keep things realistic.

So a few days ago I started cutting back. Some people prefer a gradual approach but I find that never works because there's too much room for negotiation with ones self. So instead I went in tough. No sugar in my tea, not even a bit of honey in my herbal teas. No more treats at work. No salad dressing. No juice. I even started to watch a documentary about how bad sugar is for the body for motivation.

I'm about five days in. It seems too early notice any radical changes. Today was particularly bad for cravings so a nice fresh piece of corn had to do for some sweetness. I'm not out to achieve anything in particular except to make me more aware of how much sugar I consume. It really is in everything. I considered putting a bit of BBQ sauce with dinner. Nope. 16g per two teaspoons. Even my milk, because it's low fat, is loaded with sugar. I haven't come up with an alternative to that yet and not sure I will.

So far my mission is doing its job. I no longer scoff any of the dessert cut-offs the kitchen staff leave out for the servers. I'm not relying on sweet pick-me-ups to get me through the day either. I shall report back.

a visit to an institution

It's hard to imagine a time when there was only one Starbucks. Actually, after travelling through the US and Canada, it's impossible to imagine. But for a little while at least, that was the case. The first Starbucks opened in Seattle in 1971. The store was originally on Western Avenue but moved to Pike Place about four years later. Other Starbucks stores were opened in 1987. I was curious about Seattle's coffee craze. What came first? Did Seattle's love of coffee inspire Starbucks? Or was it the other way around? Unfortunately I didn't get to find out. The coffee walking tour I wanted to go on was booked out. So instead I explored on my own, starting with a coffee from that famous Starbucks store in Pike Place. Apparently the store looks rather similar to when it opened. The only addition is a bar, which was put in when the store went from selling coffee beans to also selling drinks, as it does today.

 

The Post Alley Gum Wall

But before my visit to Starbucks, there was another institution on my list. I don't know if is actually an institution, but it should be. The Crumpet Shop. Does a store get any better than that? Now there were more 'gourmet' crumpets available, with toppings featuring cream cheese, ricotta, peanut butter and the like. But I stuck with a personal favourite: honey. Once breakfast and a coffee hit was taken care of, I went in search of the 'gum wall' in Pike Place's Post Alley. It is what the name suggests...a wall where people stick their chewing gum. It could almost pass for a work of art, however really, it's a bit gross isn't it?

I left Pike Place Market behind and walked to Columbia Tower. A customer at work had recommended that I skip the Space Needle and instead go up Columbia, which is taller, and cheaper. It's an office building with an observation area on the 73rd floor. The building is 75 floors but the top one is 'members only'. I pictured secret handshakes and codewords but the security guard said it was the Columbia Building Club and as far as he knew there was just a restaurant and bar up there. Not all that exciting, I tried to tell myself. The observation deck offers a 180-degree view of the waterfront side of the city. The weather wasn't fantastic but it didn't hinder the view too much. The tower is twice the size of the Space Needle, which looked quite tiny in the distance.

Hurricane Cafe

I walked from the tower to Pioneer Square, supposedly an arty, hipster place. But while I was walking around I remembered a suggestion from a friend to visit the Hurricane Cafe. That involved heading back into the city a bit more but I decided I might as well as I didn't have long before my bus, and it was closer to the station. The Hurricane Cafe is open 24 hours and is exactly the kind of place I see in American movies: juke box as you walk in, red leather booths and a few stools lined up on a bench and a menu of all-day breakfasts and burgers. But despite the dingy appearance, it had a quirky atmosphere. I particularly enjoyed the Mr Potato Head Collection above the kitchen. After lunch I walked back into town and had a cup of Clam Chowder from Pike Place Chowder, which I had been meaning to do all trip as it's rated as one of the highlights of a trip to the city. Then it was back to the Greyhound station for the bus "home".

a thing for ferry boats

Seattle from the ferry to Bainbridge Island

The great thing about travelling alone is that you don't always have to be alone. I've found it a lot easier to travel solo and find company when I want it rather than travel with company and find alone time. A German guy called Ralf posted on the Vancouver CS group that he was going to Seattle from Wednesday to Friday if anyone wanted to join him. I was leaving and returning a day earlier, but I offered to catch up if he wanted a travel buddy for a day. He accepted so on my second day in Seattle I went back to the Greyhound bus station and waited for a strange guy to come say hello.

Ralf is living in Vancouver at the moment, but about to move to Banff for the ski season. He's finished school and on a bit of a 'what do I want to do with my life' mission. He caught the early bus and was in need of food so we headed to Pike Place Market. We walked around for a bit before heading to the waterfront. When I sent out some couchrequests for Seattle, one host replied that he couldn't host me but suggested I go to Bainbridge Island and have lunch at a place called the Public House. I've travelled enough to know that a suggestion from a local is a lot more valuable than a guidebook.

Mount Rainer in the distance

The ferry ride from Seattle to Bainbridge Island is 35-minutes and is quite cheap at $7 for the return journey. It was another gorgeous day in Seattle so Ralf and I had good views of the city as the ferry headed to the island. Seattle is a lot more hilly than I realised, but its centre is also quite compact. Sitting at the back of the ferry we had the Space Needle on our left and the port area and Mount Rainer to our right.

View from the Harbour Public House

Once we docked it was about a 15-minute walk along the waterfront to the Harbour Public House. It was a 21-and-over venue, and Ralf isn't 21, but I figured who's going to check at 2.30pm on a Wednesday afternoon. Luckily, I was right. We took a seat on the deck and if it wasn't for the masts of the boats in the marina, we would have had a great view of Seattle. Seattle is big on its seafood so I order a grilled salmon burger. I'm still coming to terms with the price of salmon in Vancouver. It's not pretty.






Grilled Salmon Burger...yum

After lunch, Ralf headed back to the ferry to meet his host. I ventured into town. Bainbridge Island is a bit of a tourist destination but it doesn't feel like it. It has a great collection of boutiques, galleries, bookshops and cafes. When I walked into one gallery, the owner immediately introduced himself and asked my name. Although I warned him I was the worst customer he could hope for because I had no intention of buying anything, Jack was happy to chat to me for a while, which was nice. Close to the gallery is a store that specialises in tea and knitting products - the wife is into knitting, the husband loves tea.

I headed back to the terminal in time for the 5.30pm ferry back and made my way back to John's house. Waiting there was one of the most amazing people I've ever met - Jamie, the girl John is dating at the moment. Jamie currently has a business advising credit unions on poverty-reduction schemes, but her resume includes running a newspaper and producing television shows, among a host of other adventures. She was the type of person I need to meet at the moment. Someone who has just pursued anything she felt like and not let things get in her way. Over dinner, John basically had to listen to Jamie and I talk all night. But it really was great to meet someone so inspiring.

Dinner was a place called Barrio, a restaurant John had always wanted to check out and that we'd walked past the night before. It features a wall of candles, which the server said were lit by the busser every night. The feat takes more than an hour. We left a special tip at the end of our meal and made sure the server knew who it was for.

The cyclists get ready to disembark

wide awake in seattle

Between work and well, work, I've become somewhat of a homebody rather early into my time in Vancouver. So when my work schedule revealed three days off in a row, I decided to dig out my passport.

Seattle is just a four-hour bus ride away so I settled on that as my destination. Bus tickets are quite cheap (another bonus) and I found a Couchsurfing host. Despite being pretty exhausted after seven days straight at work, I booked a 7.45am bus, so it was an early start to make it to the station to collect my ticket an hour beforehand.

The bus ride was uneventful: no dramatic change in scenery, no dramas at US customs, and we even pulled into Seattle early. The only thing I really knew about this city before arriving, was what I had seen in Grey's Anatomy. So not much. But everyone I spoke to about my trip had plenty of suggestions so that was helpful. Fresh off the bus, I went in search of a tourist information office. I was staring at a map outside a shopping centre when a man approached me and asked what I was looking for. "What lovely people Seattle-ites are" I thought, before he then stuck a cup out and asked for money. I said I only had Canadian money on me and he said that was OK as he would go and exchange it. "The last people I helped gave me $5 Canadian," he said. I gave him 50cents and walked off...angry at myself for not realising I was being scammed.

But it did get me to visitor information. A couple of maps and directions to Wells Fargo (apparently the best place to get my cash exchanged) and I was set. I love a good market so when I heard about Pike Place Market, I thought that sounded like a good way to spend a few hours. The market has a collection of permanent shops, including the first Starbucks, and then an array of temporary vendors. Not all the stalls come every day, and there are rarely in the same spot if they do. It keeps the customers guessing, one vendor told me. I browsed some of the stalls and made an exception to my "no buying" rule and invested in a necklace that has a dried flower pressed in between the glass. The woman said they picked them from their garden and pressed them by sticking them in big books for a couple of years. The flowers in my necklace were picked in 2009.

The market has a lot of flower stalls run by Hmong people (a Chinese ethnic minority), fruit and vegetables, and fish. One of the stalls is well-known for its fish-throwing antics. The staff are more showmen than salesmen. Every time someone buys a fish the guy at the front near the stands picks it up (usually a big tuna, trout or salmon) and throws it up to the guys doing the filleting. Those guys often throw it straight back and this goes on for a little bit. Draws in the tourists anyhow.


When buying a peach from one of the stands I asked the guy for a recommendation for lunch and ended up at the Steelhead Diner. It had a good view of the water and a decent menu too. I didn't get around to having a burger the last time I was in the States so I made up for it today. What is it with North Americans and their sour pickle? Urgh.


After lunch I headed to the antiques market, which is by the waterfront. I resisted the urge to buy a typewriter and headed over to the water. Despite an average forecast, the weather was beautiful and I was kicking myself for not bringing sunscreen. I took my time along the waterfront, stopping at some of the piers. One of them had several bright yellow deck chairs chained to it so I took a seat. I was nearly drifting off before a woman approached me and said she was about to jump in the water and not to worry, she knew how to swim. Damn hippies.

I continued my walk to the Olympic Sculpture Park and up to the Space Needle. That's the tower that's shown in every shot of Seattle, not that I knew what it was called until a couple of days ago. A customer at work recommended I skip the Space Needle and instead visit Columbia Tower, which is cheaper and higher. So I just admired the needle from below and caught the monorail back to the city centre. I spend the rest of the afternoon wandering through town and checking out a bit more of the market before I headed to my host's place.

Although I sent out a few couch requests, I didn't have much luck and ended up posting on the Seattle last minute couch requests group, as I did in Paris. A guy called John, along with a couple of others, offered to host me. John moved to Seattle a few years ago. He works in IT and joined CS because his kids live on the East Coast so he was thinking it might be a good thing to do when he goes there to visit them. Although he's been a member for years, he's only started hosting recently. I'd told him where I work and took him some of our bestselling tea to try so we ended up grabbing dinner at a little place that sells 150 different teas. I'm really getting into trying lots of teas now so that was fun for me. After dinner we went to a bar called Tavern Law and had a couple of cocktails. I ordered an English Fizz - earl grey gin, honey, lemon and soda - although that was a bit of a miss, so next time I chose a different one. The bar was very cool - there is an upstairs section that we think is only accessed by reservation. When people arrive to go up there they have to ring on this little old-school telephone downstairs before they are about to open the door to go up. The conversations are quite lengthy but I have no idea what they are about.