November 14, 2011

The Okanagan Valley is a lovely wine-growing region mid-way between Banff and Vancouver. The name derives from the Okanagan people who were here when the first non-native settlers arrived in 1811. It’s become a hot place for wineries, and it reminded us a bit of the Apennines in Italy—the rolling golden hills sometimes with houses poised halfway up. It is this province’s lake district, long thin lakes like New York’s finger lakes. We knocked off driving pretty early, laid around the hotel room, and went out for tempura. This morning I goaded Bob into doing a workout with me before we left for Vancouver.

It was mountainous for the entire drive. Quite stunning, but trying as well. We drove through a lot of snow ,almost white-outs part of the time, and when someone passed us, visibility was reduced to zero for a harrowing minute or two.

“Yvonne, can you see the side of the road?” This in an urgent voice.

“No, I can’t.” This in an icy tone that covered panic.

The highway is a fine four-lane road, but with many long ascents and descents, so we dipped in and out of snowstorms repeatedly as we drove west. In any event, we have arrived in Vancouver and we are excited to be here.

We are in a hotel on the edge of downtown, only a block from one of the biggest Chinatowns in the North American continent, as the tourist literature is fond of saying. And the first thing on our agenda tonight is dinner in Chinatown. The block we’re on looks a bit seedy. As Trip Advisor reviews put it, yeah there are homeless folks and drug addicts and prostitutes on the street, but you’re safe and the hotel is great and the staff super friendly. (It’s true, the staff is wonderful.) We kind of like the edginess. It brings us back to our early carefree days of traveling when everything was an adventure. I hate that I’ve become more jaded now, but I still get that surge of excitement in my gut when we climb into the car in the morning and head down the road not knowing just what to expect next.

…

Back from a walk around town. I have to admit that a different emotion is switched on when I actually walk among the homeless, drug addicts and prostitutes. We are about two blocks from two homeless shelters. At 6:30 p.m. there were crowds on the sidewalks waiting to get in. Some guys pulling big canvas suitcases on wheels. Some sorting through shopping carts. Tough life. It makes me really grateful and appreciative of the folks who are working hard in our town to get more affordable housing.