Après

Coffee. Dog Park. Truck Packed. Whistler bound.

The drive was so visually stimulating that I could barely keep the conversation going. Which says a lot. ‘Cause I’m a chatty Cathy. The layers of mountains disappeared amongst the clouds in varying shades of cool blues and greys. The water calmly resting in the bay on my left, and rushing down the steep slopes of the mountain on my right. The water was, in that moment, an enigma, in the same way I always am: rushing and resting - simultaneously. 

Since we got to town pretty late in the day, we opted to “Après” - aka drink and snack in the village of Whistler - typically done after spending a day on the slopes, but hey! all the other kids were doing it…

Smoked Olives

The majority of my day was spent dealing with the logistics of traveling. I’d have risked overstaying my welcome had I crashed with Nigel and his roommate for much longer so the plan was to head to Alex’s and that we’d beeline it for Whistler in the A.M.

So that morning, I bladed to Tierney’s future humble abode to collect my laptop which I’d foolishly left behind a couple days previously. Then it was off to the office to grab Alex’s keys. My legs were like jelly so I Sky Trained back to Nigel’s, grabbed my bag, dragged it 30min walking to his work to give his keys back, and then hopped back on the Sky Train to Alex’s apartment. PHEW. I only had a couple hours to rest before getting ready and shuffling on down to the office, on the way to which I ran into Katie. She was pretty stoked about casually running into someone in the streets of a city she’d just moved to. As was I, cause I mean, I don’t even live here. 

Anyway, we went to the Royal Dinette for some eats. I’ll probably never stop talking about how incredible their smoked olives are. Seriously. I may have to sleep with the chef for the recipe.*

Moving on… I avoided any inappropriate relations with the staff and headed across town to a warm welcome from a room of strangers.

That’s a lie, I knew one gyal in the room, Ms. Veronica Wong. Though by the end of the night I felt like I was one of the fam :) We I gorged on hot pot, consumed a fair amount of local organic wine, and hitched a ride with my new friend Brendon back to downtown Vancouver. I caught up with Daryll, Alex, and Katie as they were leaving Karaoke (sadly, I missed that boat) and we were off to the London Pub. Drinks were consumed, new friends were made, typical Friday night. 

*Anyone who knows me, knows that my last three serious relationships have been with chefs. Just saying.

33.3km

Let’s just start by saying that I rollerbladed approximately 35km. Though I will say, due to my intoxication, the last few kilometres may have included a few moments of me being dragged uphill by Nigel on his bicycle. 

I did the entire sea wall, which I had no idea was 9km long, had lunch at Ferguson point where I enjoyed some green St. Paddy’s day prosecco, stopped by Joao Paolo’s pop up in Gastown, which was actually just outside of Gastown in a pretty sketchy area of town, and drank green cider at Local in Kitsilano, Katie’s place of work. It was a beautiful sunny day and every moment between blinking was a treat for the eyes.

I̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶g̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶e̶x̶p̶l̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶d̶i̶f̶f̶e̶r̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶r̶i̶p̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶p̶a̶r̶i̶s̶o̶n̶ ̶t̶o̶ Actually, this trip has been pretty much exactly like every trip I’ve taken alone in the past few years. Let me tell you about it...

I drove to Montreal for a boy once, it was an incredible experience, a beautiful drive, and it taught me that I can put myself out there and be vulnerable by showing how much I actually care. He turned out to be a dick, but I met up with a high school sweetheart the next day and we had a blast. I booked a trip to costa rica and then cancelled it because I had a bad feeling. I flew to Los Angeles with nothing planned with the exception of the first few nights in an AirBnb and had high hopes of surfing and tanning. What actually happened was that I found out I had relatives there and ended up spending some time getting to know them after galavanting around Santa Monica kissing boys in classic cars. True story. 

On another adventure I hopped across the border to NYC partly because there was a handsome man there I wanted to meet, but partly because I was desperate to soak up the tastes, textures, sounds, and sights oozing out of the city. He broke my heart a few months later, I’m still recovering. And now here I am, visiting friends and family in the beautiful province of British Colombia soon to be soaking up rays of sunshine on the Californian coast once again.

What flows through each of these experiences and ties them together so tightly is that I’ve followed my instincts. I’ve gone where my heart desired, when it desired, unafraid of the consequences, prepared to deal with whatever outcome the universe throws my way. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say "prepared". I mean, there’s a part of me that likes to travel by the seat of my pants with no expectations, but there’s also a part of me that imagines it going a certain way. The great thing is that I’m usually pretty good with rolling with the punches. Key word: usually. I would have been pretty disappointed if I’d gone all the way to Whistler and not hit the slopes. OOPS! Haven’t quite gotten there yet. OK, on to the next day.