Received word that Consulate X in New York issued my visa and sent my passport the day after my flight would have left. Harrumph!
The morning began with touring a farm. The very farm that sustains the people that were doing spring cleaning at the restaurant last weekend. It's a big farm with all the essentials - Joshua at the top, goat kids about to come forth, and happy human kids rambling about. I discover their wood-fired outdoor wooden hot tub and ask lots of questions. We say good-bye, and they pack me two yerba maté bars for the road.
I continue onwards, and the car is propelled not (only) by fuel but by car tunes of course. My thumb dances on top of the steering wheel, in tact with the beat. I stop for lunch in 'Amity Harbor, The Strawberry Capital of the San Juan Islands.' I have a nice veggie focaccia at 'Pacific Grill' and imagine the ocean breeze still some 600 km away.
Drove through a thicket of rosy strip malls before I got into this town where I stay the night. The setting is spectacular, but the town itself exhibits both too little town planning and not enough randomness. Went for a walk this balmy evening on the Kettle Valley Trail, which showcases the extraordinary landscape. Lots of after-work joggers and cyclists trot past, and 'sandy beige' is a beautiful colour in its natural state, enhanced by sunset light.
As I approach the part with the cemetery on one side, I see a man with a green plastic bag looking up. Of course. I ask him about a bird on the fence. 'Gambel's Quail' he says. They're the only ones with a dark spot on their belly, as he pats his own tum-tum. We chat a little. Certainly his demeanour could posit him as curious bird-watcher by day, manager of Bates Motel by night. I continue my way, to have a warning from him: 'Don't go too far that way after dark. Coyotes, you know.'
Thursday, 10 April 2014
Saturday, 5 April 2014
The non-trip
Not on my trip, yet neither at home. I'm in a default place, a place I've been to before. Where I don't need to plan much for, and is always there in my heart. I learn more about it each time I come. A place where I relish in habits and rituals.
Today for instance I go to my regular dinner haunt. Instead, I'm told they are closed for spring cleaning until Monday. Instead of dinner, I am offered the story of their exisrance. Their community, their sheep, their restaurants and mate tea products. Instead, they offer me a roibus tea and mate bar, and a seat from which to hear their story unfold.
As I walk along the main drag, I pass by a man practicing his didgeridoo skills with a black pvc pipe, in a particularly resounding entrance to an otherwise regular insurance office. The shops around here are more upmarket than I remember. But here they put their true self up front, in front of the glass storefronts.
I have my dinner at a place recommended by where I otherwise would have gone. Here, if you were not already on a cleanse, they will help you on that path. There is a fair amount of choosing involved in my order, and the server makes one feel that one has made the perfect choice each step of the way. Cashew ginger dressing? Why that's what everyone gets here. Sure you've never been here before?
Today for instance I go to my regular dinner haunt. Instead, I'm told they are closed for spring cleaning until Monday. Instead of dinner, I am offered the story of their exisrance. Their community, their sheep, their restaurants and mate tea products. Instead, they offer me a roibus tea and mate bar, and a seat from which to hear their story unfold.
As I walk along the main drag, I pass by a man practicing his didgeridoo skills with a black pvc pipe, in a particularly resounding entrance to an otherwise regular insurance office. The shops around here are more upmarket than I remember. But here they put their true self up front, in front of the glass storefronts.
I have my dinner at a place recommended by where I otherwise would have gone. Here, if you were not already on a cleanse, they will help you on that path. There is a fair amount of choosing involved in my order, and the server makes one feel that one has made the perfect choice each step of the way. Cashew ginger dressing? Why that's what everyone gets here. Sure you've never been here before?
Thursday, 3 April 2014
Grounded
Well! This is going to be a rather short travel blog this time around.
Two days ago, the plan for tonight would have been a bit of packing and fridge cleaning. However, I have just finished putting together my travel cancellation insurance claim, and am about to hunt for a veggie burger and beer somewhere. I might even unpack a little.
The main story is that, despite the new passport, I still need 4 visas, 3 of which need new Letters of Invitation (referencing my new passport number) which, I have been told now, take 3-4 weeks to obtain. This does not even include the 'great game' of applying for each visa as a non-national enroute. My travel agent said that I am the 2nd who cancelled on this basis in her 30 years of experience.
Needless to say, there is not much difference between finding that this mountain has risen too high, and discovering that I've fallen off a cliff.
To top if off, the Lufthansa flight I would have been on tomorrow has been cancelled due to the pilot union's April 2-4 strike.
So one way or another, I was not meant to fly tomorrow, or go on this trip. Instead, I'll be getting a neck massage to sort out some strain which has developed of late. And taking some time off to recover from all this travel admin, which is a bit twisted...
Two days ago, the plan for tonight would have been a bit of packing and fridge cleaning. However, I have just finished putting together my travel cancellation insurance claim, and am about to hunt for a veggie burger and beer somewhere. I might even unpack a little.
The main story is that, despite the new passport, I still need 4 visas, 3 of which need new Letters of Invitation (referencing my new passport number) which, I have been told now, take 3-4 weeks to obtain. This does not even include the 'great game' of applying for each visa as a non-national enroute. My travel agent said that I am the 2nd who cancelled on this basis in her 30 years of experience.
Needless to say, there is not much difference between finding that this mountain has risen too high, and discovering that I've fallen off a cliff.
To top if off, the Lufthansa flight I would have been on tomorrow has been cancelled due to the pilot union's April 2-4 strike.
So one way or another, I was not meant to fly tomorrow, or go on this trip. Instead, I'll be getting a neck massage to sort out some strain which has developed of late. And taking some time off to recover from all this travel admin, which is a bit twisted...
Tuesday, 1 April 2014
No joke!
A beautiful warm sunny day, and a warm evening too. First day that people were sunning themselves in the park.
Just back from a talk by Arundhati Roy. She repeated a talk I saw online from last year, but there was a part she mentioned about the Armenian Genocide in Turkey (1915) that was worth remembering. I recall my first exposure to that in a film screened at an Armenian Orthodox Church in Damascus. The anniversary of it will be next year. Roy reminds us what price progress. I see this in the water cannons being used on demonstrators in Ankara. As we are invited to "ask Roy" at #askroy, I am reminded that twitter is banned in Turkey just now.
Travel admin moves ever onward. The journey has truly begun, with me going nowhere but with this mini-K2 moving upwards, and the sign always saying just 10 km more. This new passport (that I never should have needed to get in the first place) is now in hand, the other declared "lost" (because I could not prove the Consulate had it), but it was certainly far from certain. Two visits yesterday by myself, and two visits today by my dad, full conversations with my guarantor and 2 references ("250 lbs, green eyes, and red hair") yielded urgent spring fruit from the Passport office tree of life.
Mentioned to someone that with holidays like this, work is a blissful distraction. I can't wait to sit upright and do nothing for 15 hours.
Just back from a talk by Arundhati Roy. She repeated a talk I saw online from last year, but there was a part she mentioned about the Armenian Genocide in Turkey (1915) that was worth remembering. I recall my first exposure to that in a film screened at an Armenian Orthodox Church in Damascus. The anniversary of it will be next year. Roy reminds us what price progress. I see this in the water cannons being used on demonstrators in Ankara. As we are invited to "ask Roy" at #askroy, I am reminded that twitter is banned in Turkey just now.
Travel admin moves ever onward. The journey has truly begun, with me going nowhere but with this mini-K2 moving upwards, and the sign always saying just 10 km more. This new passport (that I never should have needed to get in the first place) is now in hand, the other declared "lost" (because I could not prove the Consulate had it), but it was certainly far from certain. Two visits yesterday by myself, and two visits today by my dad, full conversations with my guarantor and 2 references ("250 lbs, green eyes, and red hair") yielded urgent spring fruit from the Passport office tree of life.
Mentioned to someone that with holidays like this, work is a blissful distraction. I can't wait to sit upright and do nothing for 15 hours.
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