we are not tourists, we are travellers.

In typical fashion, this blog fell by the wayside whilst I was travelling. My original endeavour to keep it up-to-date whilst on the road soon became unrealistic as our days were typically full of walking, exploring and otherwise getting to know those that took residence in our lives for such a brief time. Not to mention how the inherent lack of sleep laid waste to my ability to speak (whereby saying ‘fucking’ bridged those brief moments when the brain skipped a beat mid-sentence, it transcended any definition to become a punctuation mark in a sentence, an ellipsis). You can probably understand when I say that formulating sentences worth reading was no walk in the park. So, here I am. 54 days and counting I’ve been residing at Hope Street, wasting my days between sessions on Football Manager and episodes of South Park and I figure it’s about time to finish this off.

After hitting the ground running, drink-wise, in the States we were forced to go back to the appallingly expensive Canadian beer, which led to our alcohol intake becoming more casual and conservative. $6 pints, plus tip, translates to about £4 a pop, which I wouldn’t even consider to pay back in England and feels particularly painful after paying $2-3 in the States. Yet, it was pleasant to be back with the slightly more familiar context of Canada and, on the whole, more friendly population of Canadians.

Winnipeg and Regina’s reputation as boring prairie towns precedes them and I think if the weather hadn’t been blue skies and roasting temperatures, my opinion of the cities would probably be similar. Luckily, the weather was great so we spent our time walking around in the sun, sitting in parks and getting eaten by mosquitoes. In Winnipeg we couchsurfed for two nights with Allan, an experienced couchsurfer and part-time stuntman. He showed us the ropes around Winnipeg but he was certainly one of the less friendly and less involved of the people we stayed with. By no means was he unfriendly, but there were times when we didn’t feel as welcome. For example, when we were just resting in his house he wouldn’t hang around with us and get to know us, instead being in his room or visiting his girlfriend. The fact that Allan was an experienced Couchsurfer, particularly in reference to hosting, may have meant that he prefers to leave people to their own devices or doesn’t get to know people as well because they are such temporary acquaintances. Regardless, it was a slight shame. Curiously, his Couchsurf profile said that he was 26 years old, but when we asked him he told us he was 31 and he had intentionally made his age lower on his profile. This peculiar behavior was further underlined by his championing of conspiracy theories, which he got rather passionate about after a few drinks.

In our exploration of Winnipeg we marveled at the legislative building, which was built around 100 years ago and marks the capital of Manitoba. It was particularly impressive in its grandiose French renaissance style and Allan was, unsurprisingly, able to explain all the conspiracy theories about secret Illuminati messages in the building and meanings behind how certain positions create certain echoes. The downtown area was a bit nicer than I had expected, and the local by-law that requires there to be car parks everywhere makes it quite an individual and sparse city centre. And as one of the oldest cities in Canada, there is some really impressive architecture. We also went to watch a northern league baseball game with the Winnipeg Goldeyes against the Fargo-Moorhead RedHawks. The game was pretty shoddy with the only exciting event happening in the final innings, most of the time was spent laughing at various things around the ground, including ‘Dancing Gabe’ (a man who wanders the stands dancing with headphones), and despairing at how baseball players can be so fat and still be regarded as athletes. The highlight was my moment of fame as I attempt to catch a foul ball that came in my direction. Obviously, my hand-eye coordination was affected by the required level of baseball inebriation, therefore, the ball just smashed into my wrist, instantaneously developing into a bulbous, colourful bruise. The medical staff came running over to make sure that I was okay, dished me out a bag of ice and two free slushies as some kind of ‘please don’t sue us’ blackmail. My only real worry was whether I got to keep the ball. I thankfully did - a lovely Winnipeg souvenir.

The legislative building.

Another overnight bus and we found ourselves in sunny Regina, the provincial capital of Saskatchewan, being met by the Nathan who picked us up from the Greyhound station at ridiculous ‘o’ clock. Again, the expectations for Regina were very low, I hadn’t heard anything positive about the place, and we were only really making the visit as it was a logical stopping point between Winnipeg and Calgary. Our time ended up being defined by the generous hospitality offered by our host. He pretty much gave us a daily agenda for the time we were in his city, which helped our usual lack of indecision, and he provided the most comfy night’s sleep of the whole trip, mostly because I was in the basement and wasn’t woken up when the sun came up, which was the typical fare whilst travelling.

The first day we took a trip to the RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police – Mounties) museum where we got a rather biased history of the RCMP and how, in their origins, they always had the welfare of the First Nations people in mind; a very selective history. It gave us the opportunity to dress up as Mounties, watch RCMP students run around to earn their boots (walking is prohibited for the newest arrivals) and witness an RCMP march. The second day we spent wandering around Wascana Centre, one of the biggest urban parks in North America, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes and catching a few rays in the process. We also utilised the chance to see another legislature building, given that Regina is the province capital, which was very impressive, but ultimately very similar to the one in Winnipeg. After a few beers, some pizza and an evening playing the FIFA World Cup 2010 game, we went on our way to Calgary.

Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Our stay in Calgary was unfortunately brief, due to the desire to make the most of our time in Banff the following couple of days. We stayed with our first non-Couchsurfer, Chelsea, a friend of my friend back in Hamilton, Sean. She lived way out in the southern suburbs of Calgary in a very large family home and, like those before, looked after us exceptionally well with all kinds of crepes and rides. Getting the chance to ride in the back of a pick-up truck was certainly a North American treat. Being so far out of downtown meant we didn’t see a huge amount of the city, although we got a chance to walk around a very large, suburban park and have a night out at a bar downtown called Broken City. The only great downside to our time in Calgary (and I hope Chelsea doesn’t mind me saying) was the utter hostility we were met with by Chelsea’s dad’s wife. The whole time we were there she refused to acknowledge us or talk to us, only showing signs of discontent that we were there. Even when we thanked her for having us, her response was to roll her eyes. It made us feel very uncomfortable about being in the house when Chelsea was at work and the situation was particularly confusing given how stoked her dad was to have us stay. Her opinion seemed to be made before she had even met us and she was completely unwilling to give us a chance. Strangely, it was also in Calgary that Bob’s camera went missing, calling premature time on the fantastic ‘Bobby’s Blog’ video blog, and we have a sneaking suspicion who got their mits on it…

Hangin' out in the park.

Hangin' out in the back of a pick-up.

Banff provided one of the most unique experiences of our trans-North America voyage as we had a fantastic opportunity to go deep into a national park and stay in a location with a beautiful backdrop of snow-covered mountain peaks and thick forests, whilst at night there were more stars in the sky than I had thought possible. All this just 2 hours from Calgary. It was like absolutely nothing I have ever witnessed before. The photos below do much more justice than my words, anyway. Couchsurfers are not exactly commonplace in Banff, perhaps due to the transient nature of the town’s population, so we had the luxury of a hotel for two nights. This meant twin double beds, a balcony, a TV, free coffee and a hot tub. What it was to see travelling from the other side. The side that isn’t eating only one meal a day in order to afford to drink a few extra pints of the cheapest beer in the cheapest bar later that night. We had the pleasure in Banff of bumping into our friend, Lauren, from university back home and her friends from studying abroad in Kingston, ON. So we had a group of like-minded British people to hang out with for a couple of days and it was a welcome change to the dynamic. We walked a torturous 5km up Sulphur Mountain together and shared a rather intoxicated night out that, like so many others before it, entered the cognitive abyss that is my drunken memory. From what I can gather, it mostly involved dire music and being surrounded by Australians. The views atop Sulphur Mountain were outstanding, completely justifying the hike, and we even manage to hitch a free ride down on the cable car. One particularly sour note of this trek was, with a slightly sick feeling in my stomach and a despairing sigh, discovering a Starbucks at the foot of the mountain. It is inevitable really. Sulphur Mountain is a tourist attraction, and where there is people there will be a Starbucks.

The bus ride from Banff to Vancouver was an impressive 16 hours from 1 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon the next day. Yet, having said that it was one of the more enjoyable journeys as the bus weaved around the mountains in the Rockies, certainly a little more interesting than those darned prairies. During our time in Vancouver we were residing in a huge house on the mansion-ridden hills of West Vancouver with Bob’s nan’s cousin, I think. Either way, they were a British fifty-something couple with plenty of good tea bags, comfortable places to sleep and a desire to fill us with as much food and beer as they could. They even went to extra lengths to accommodate me as a vegetarian. Bob hadn’t told them before my arrival that I didn’t eat meat and when we arrived in the early evening we discovered that they had a barbeque all fired up and ready to go. We let them know the bad news and a few phone calls later and their son’s wife brought around myriad veggie burgers. Then on another night they bought in some tofu to cook me an awesome pasta dish. The whole situation was so homely; it was like we were in Vancouver during the day and then went back to Britain in the evening. They even lived in the 'British Properties', which were owned by the Guinness family originally and they stipulated that the roads must not be straight. Oh, what it is to be British.

Vancouver itself did its best to fulfill its stereotypes by the heavens raining down all they could. It was so unpredictable though, in the space of half an hour you could go from beautiful sunny weather to torrential downpours. From the garden of the house we were staying in on West Vancouver, one should be able to clearly see downtown Vancouver, but on many occasions there’s not a chance of that as the clouds and rain cover the city like a blanket. Without letting the weather get us down, we walked, we walked and we cycled. The cycle ride in particular was long, oh so very long, but the feeling of racing down a hill on a main road back into downtown Vancouver from the University of British Columbia was quite the thrill. I’ve never really ridden a bike around such a busy city centre before and that was quite a daunting feat, I really got to experience the obnoxious wrath of Canadian motorists too. Vancouver really is a beautiful city with stunning surroundings, lots of recreational areas and plenty of intriguing architecture and public art, but you do get the impression a lot of it has come from the invigoration drive from the recent Winter Olympics. Regardless, it makes Toronto look like a lifeless, grey, concrete jungle in comparison.

Following our stay in Vancouver we made the ferry trip across to Vancouver Island where we were aiming to get to the city of Victoria, the provincial capital of British Columbia, mostly on the recommendation of our friend Emma. However, after the spectacular ferry across where we had tremendous weather and great views of the rugged coastline around Vancouver, we did our first fuck-up of the trip; we missed the last bus from Nanaimo (where the ferry landed) to Victoria. This wasn’t the most ideal situation as we had a Couchsurf lined up in Victoria and now had to pay for accommodation in a hostel. Nanaimo might have been one of the most depressing places that we found ourselves in whilst travelling. The streets were devoid of life, there were numerous old looking, grotty hotels with peeling paint on the walls and the whole place just reeked of ‘second home’. Thankfully, the stay was short and we headed off the next morning to Victoria with our heads held high, despite the first minor blip on the trip.

The ferry over to the island.

Yet, by the time we left Victoria all four of us had agreed that the excursion was not worth it, especially considering the fact that it cost us extra in regards to the ferry. In short, we should have stayed in Vancouver. With Victoria we were expecting a city that is more ‘British than Britain’. What we got was a city the same as any other Canadian city, with no discernible British characteristics. Not that we wanted to see a particularly British city in Canada, it was just that it was so bland and mostly like any other Canadian city, but a lot smaller with a lot less going on. The highlight was our exploration around the University of Victoria’s campus. A while back some rabbits escaped onto the campus and rabbits just being rabbits meant that these few that escaped quickly multiplied and now there is an epidemic of a rabbit infestation on the grounds. We expected a few extra rabbits knocking around, as it is a big campus after all, but there were literally hundreds and hundreds. In a given field there may be fifty in view. So our entertainment for an hour or so was to run around trying to catch rabbits, naturally. But that’s as hard as it looks, so we inevitably failed.

The protesters.

The bunnies.

The context of who we stayed with didn’t really help our cause to have a good time in Victoria. We Couchsurfed with a guy called Troy who puts on all the hardcore shows in the city. He was a nice guy but didn’t have a whole lot to say as he seemed very shy and again, like Allan, didn’t have much interest in doing what we were doing. Often in these situations the wonderful medium of alcohol is introduced to make every a little more lucid and sociable, sadly this isn’t possible with straight edge people. Even though we had the mutual bond of hardcore punk music, it didn’t really seem to help the proceedings. We were only with Troy for one night, but we were quite happy to leave Victoria for Seattle as we returned to the States.