#11 - Penticton, the quiet oasis

Sunday, the 10th of May
Penticton

Day 17

After wondering through the city (town/village) for 1 and 1/2 days I am in a fair position to make a shortish description. (...)
Penticton is a very small place (...). It has a large retired population, as can be deduced by the numerous facilites for veterans, for instance. The beach is quite incredible and it really looks like an oasis with the brownish mountains around. I quite like it, except for the lack of actual things to visit or see. In addition, people turn their heads and recognize you as an out-of-towner (...).
I keep going to strabucks and more Strabucks. It is an issue.

Filipa

#10 - Looking at the island from accross the mountains...

Saturday, the 9th of May
Penticton, sitting by the lake Okanagan
warm, sunny and perfect

Day 16

I arrived to Penticton about 1:00 h ago. And welcome to small town Canada. Quite small, not many people. But, standing by the lake with warm sun (finally!) I think I get "the charm" of the region. Like the two old ladies on the bus said "it's so quiet". And when you live in Vancouver you value that. The water looks really good. Tomorrow I should dip my feet into it. (...)

But I should make sure to have a record of the last couple of days. (...) Our second ride [from Nanaimo to Ucluelet] (hard to get) was a mother that liked listening to the Beatles and had a very messy car, and her teenage son. Very insightful trip to the road to Port Alberni. The guy was a typical American highschool student [even though he was Canadian]. "Surfer" looking hair and "cool" style. Plus he loved to say he was failing his classes , he picked up hookers and other very inappropriate comments in a deliberate defiant tone. (...)

Our third and almost instantaneous ride was Noah. (...) He worked with fishing boats. Not much to talk about since he din't enjoy travelling. The island had nice people, snowboarding and surf - why go anywhere else?? but Christian kept asking nice questions. He took us to port Alberni and, at that point, I strated realising the beauty of Vancouver Island. The lakes, the majestic trees. It looks like a fantasy movie! this was even more true of our ride from Port Alberni to Ucluelet. The lakes were amazing, even though it was pouring down. We decided to take this ride even though it didin't get us to Tofino. It was getting fairly late and raining a lot. (...) He was a retired logger who told us quite a bit about the industry, the environmental issues and the potential of the island. I liked it a lot and when he dropped us off at the hostel in Ucluelet I told Christian this was my best day in BC. (...) I discovered the joys of hitchhiking.

(...) On our dorm there was only this girl. An Irish ex-Dundee drop out (...) who was looking for a job to stay there for a while, currently travelling the world. Curious young woman. She told us about her crazy "European trip" on the back of a van with 3 very messy guys.
(...) The next morning we made the acquaintance of Peter, a retired veterinary professor, an Englishman bird-watching around. A German speaker and father of a Pearson UWC graduate, we soon bonded and got offered a ride to Victoria at noon. And so we forgot tofino and drove south. (...)

I am going to have to move. It's getting coldish .... continuing the entry in a Starbucks 15 min later (yes, it saves my homeless, tired and wondering self yet another time)
+ 2 teenagers are talking aboutboyfriends and highschool intrigues just behind me. Can this get any more small townish?

So, back to the Island. We ended up taking a trail that morning in Ucluelet, along the beach. (...). IT WAS GORGEOUS. My knee and legs hurted but I absolutely loved it! It had little beaches all over it, so hidden yet easy to walk into: a perfect trail. We even saw an eagle on the rocks (we had seen 2 bears the day before!) And the waves were loike an impressionistic painting. Thye seemed rough and windy. My style.

(...) Peter came to pick us up and started driving to Victoria. (...) He was quite interesting, had lived in a bunch of English-speaking countries and thaught for a year in Somalia. He had loads of interests including bird-watching and European History.in fact, he was an open book: dates, facts, cultures. He knew it all. He even spoke some Norwegian from a turbulent visit to Bergen when he was 18! He spoke many languages and could read another lot. At the moment he is an organic farmer here in the okanagan valley.
(...)
We stopped at a lake beofre Port Alberni to eat lunch. We also stopped at a little river shortly after. Then Grove Cathedral, a place with very veyr very tall trees. Finally at a place with First Nations engravings on rock next to a lake. Well the rock was in the lake. It didn't seem very looked after. We talked about so many things. he identified the paradox of female power in mediterranean societies. he told me about Native History and the USA invasions of Canada. He was pro-legalisation of all drugs, including opium. It was indeed a very cool drive.

We finally arrived in Victoria.(...) christian and I walked and asked for directions (or were offered rather...) to the nearby hostel (...) the we went ou to see Victoria (...) It was quite lovely, with the sunset and all. The buildings in the old town were charming and the Parliment is quite something. i liekd it, as we strolled around the harbour. (...) The problem was finidng somewhere to eat, at night. Things started to close and we eneded up in MacDonalds....yes, I did. (...) Once again, you need to adapt to the culture, so whathver. It wasn't pleasant. (...)

In the morning we had some breakfast at a "John's Palce", a very aweosme music-themed decorated restaurant. It also had the largets pancakes in the world!!! Very nice place but sure to cause obesity in the long run. (...) We caught a bus and a ferry back to Vanocuver. Such a beautiful trip with clear skies and it all looked so much like Norway that it automatically triggered some sentimental nostalgia. (....)

And so this morning I got to Penticton, about which I will write alter (...) i need to be patted on the head from time to time.

Filipa

#9 - 2 roads and some whales: Ucluelet

Thursday, the 7th of May
9:26 A.M., Ucluelet

Day 14

I am in a small hostel in a place just South of tofino called Ucluelet. This was where hitchhiking took us. And I love it! I seriously loved it yesterday. Not too comfortable. But so much fun! We got a ride from a guy in the ferry to a stop light 15k out of Nanaimo. He was very interesting and had Portuguese grandparents. His family lived currently in Quebec but he had been born in Brazil.

Filipa

Intermission:The Summer Fling Thing

"Come on! Have a summer Fling."

It's not the first time someone tells me this. It has been pherhaps the most direct way. The motivation behind such a suggestion, I will not try to uncover. Somehow some people that have crossed my path think that I should have " a summer fling". I should take every opportunity (walking in the beach, being in the city, camping out, etc) to meet young men, flirt and have some kind of "romantic escapade", or at least a few encounters under the portuguese sun.

Right.

I am just so tired of this pointless cliché. Soooooo tired. Summer, bikinis and torrid passion. Seriously?

I see things the other way around. Summer is for reflection. Is the time to get away from the body, to come back to that shapeless place called home. To leave the dark cold city and indulge in the leftovers of childhood.

In the summer I like to catch that plane. It is my purgatory, with the bitter taste of airline coffee. It is all about expectation, a deep breath. And, when I'm back, I'm saved. I'm alright. I can now start reflection. Yes, summer is for reflection. On my sins and mistakes. On blind impulses followed during the Winter. It is time to look out the window into the wheat fields and know rigth from wrong, to forgive myself for what I have done without even trying very hard to do so. Summer is for comtemplation. Of the self and of the world. To pull it together, cry and rise.

It is not a coincidence that it is during the summer that I have been most vulnerable to religious propaganda. As in, christian sects brain-washing me or just the old village fundamentalism having an effect on my brain. I am at the cross-road. I am exactly at the point where I can even listen to sermons, go to masses and the like, because they make some sense. I understand them. I choose another path, for sure. But still, I see why people go down those roads.

Summertime is the fall from the cold streets into the rice fields. It is time to read and write, to examine and decide. It is time to clarify the misery and glory of past actions. At my own pace, at my own time. The senses are put on hold. Nature takes care of them with the sun and the flowers. They make our bodies one with the earth. And we help them out by removing coats, by running with 0ur feet on the grass and fine layers of cloth wrapped around our skin. Our minds are free. Free to wonder. to rationaly, but warmly, wonder about ourselves.

Some songs only get some meaning like this.

Breathe, breathe in the air.

Don't be afraid to care.

Leave, don't leave me.

Look around and choose your own ground.

Long you live and high you fly

smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry

all you touch and all you see

Is all your life will ever be.

Run, rabbit run.

Dig that hole, forget the sun,

And when at last the work is done

Don't sit down it's time to dig another one.

For long you live and high you fly

But only if you ride the tide

And balanced on the biggest wave

You race towards an early grave.

(Pink Floyd- Breathe)

When you are done. When you are at peace, when you know what you have done. Cried about it, laughed about it, or simply forgot about it. Then, you can go back.


Now, where do you fit a "summer fling" here? Where do you fit the flirt-nervous thingy? Were do you fit care for your image, standards and conventions of social interaction with attractive strangers? And what about those strangers? Is it fair to dragg them into your private mess-sorting period? Why would you? How can you? How can you give up the magic of gazing at the sea for the annoyance of being gazed at by some guys? [Yes. "some guys". I do have faith in humanity, but don't ask me to think prince charming is waiting around the corner. ]

It disturbs me. This idea that during the summer we are supposed to be all into finding a match. That our energy in this priviledged season should be focused on "flings", pseudo-comitments of convenience and convention. That we should be interested in people because we see their arms, legs, and whatever else, more often. I get the thing with Spring. I do! The birds are singing, the sun is warm for the first time and tralalala... Nature is re-awakening. OK, get it. But summer? Really? This "summer-fling"-summer-teen thing is the most ridiculous socio-commercial construction ever. It almost beats St. Valentines and Christmas (those at least started with some religous component!).

A "summer fling"? Give me a break!

#8 -Around the city

Wednesday, the 6th of May
3:30 PM, ferryboat from Horseshoe Bay to nanaimo.

Day 13

(...) I write o on a ferry larger than the ones in Bergen at least 3 or 4 times. And it has a lot fo extra facilities like huge cafeteria, work stations and other stuff. Spoiled Canadians.

On Sunday I went to the inetrnet café and got to know Christian would be arriving in the evening. so I went back and checked-in at the hostel again. i had a nice roomate, a lady from Calgary whose 3 old child and husband would be arriving the next day. I told her pretty much the last year of my love/sentimental life. I like revealing my deepest anxieties to strangers, it seems. In the evening i met "Carlo" again. i went to see a movie (just felt like it) and when I came back he was smoking at the door. We started talking again and ended up with his laptop in the lounge. I had to listen to his songs and I gave what he described as "great detailed and articulate" feedback. (...) Totally trivial lyrics. No poetry, no style. [Didn't match his voice and instrumental]. So I felt it was my duttie to set this errant soul to the right path and introduce him to The Smiths. He was charmed by Morrisey immediately (who wouldn't be?) and loved the drumming and the lyrics. Hopefully he will get some inspiration. He invited me for a concert (...) but I had other plans.

(...) My friends were extremely kind and offered their place for me to stay at for as long as I needed. But I had plans, once again. I was n BC to travel, after all. (...) Problem was, when I started looking at actual bus tickets: they were expensive! (...) I decided i would need to book those tickets and do it fast [cheaper the more in advance you book them]. one lesson for the future: do not try to be spontaneous when travelling with public transport in huge, strange Canada. Eventually i figured out a trip, a way to see the main points of interest. (...)Some cities I picked even just a bit randomly - like "vernon". (...) Money well spent.

Another problem is: (...) I feel so lucky. So undeservedly lucky. (...)

(...) Yesterday we spent most of the day hiking around a mountain next to Chief mountain. I wasn't prepared for hiking and my legs were kiling me today. It was till very gorgous and reminded me a lot of Norway. It even had an inlet, which basically is a fjord. (...) And it rained a bit -perfect. But, this morning, I bougyht some good waterproof hiking shoes. no more golden Gate situations!
(...)

Filipa

#7 - Going up the country

Sunday, the 3rd of May, 2009

12:00PM, laundry room at the HI Hostel, Vancouver Central

Day 10

So I arrived in Vancouver safe and sound. Just to get chronological, here:

Last day in S.Franscisco

I decided to go and see a museum. Took off to Legion of Honour Palace. It was raining, quite a bit, and so I was happy Veronica took pictures of me in the morning rather than in the evening. Yeha, we took a picture of me on the rooftop with a flower pin in my hair - the flower pin that I got for free at that Indian shop in Haight-Ashbury. Glorious portraits. Anyhow, Legion of Honour was quite interesting. A good collection with a great range and a decent organisation. Curiosity: all info was in English exclusively. Significant? Overall. I wasn't incredibly impressed, but I guess I have a bad habit of visitng the best museums in the world so my standards are quite high. (What modesty Filipa. what modesty...) It was also quite empty, on a Friday! not many epople at all. Ended up being a relaxing factor (...)

The highlights:
-one painting, which i loved, was called something like "the broken vase". I forgot the name of the author. [ it is William Bouguereau and the painting is actually "The broken pitcher", see picture] (...) The way she looked and the broken pottery at her feet were just hypnotizing. The little text on the side said it was normally interpreted sexually as a "loss of inocense" and "hard bruttish country life" theme thing. I see it in a more holistic sense. Her look, like she was about to cry and stay strong at the same time, seemed to whisper "this is me, here I am". It was very intimate.

-There were also some great Monets and Pisarros. i saw the "Great Canal", the Monet I reproduced [ or tried to] 4 or 5 years ago. (...) I stared for a while.

After that I decided to go to Golden Gate Bridge. (...) It was pouring down, sort of foggy and very windy. Perfect drmatic setting for that red huge bridge. (...) Being there I thought I should walk the bridge. After all taht would be the "complete S.Francisco experience" thing to do. And so I went, defying the wind I strolled with some other brave tourists. Very exciting and liberating. But when I reached half the bridge I had to go back 'cause I was wet to the bone. My band-aids were falling off my blisters because of the water. (...)

[Back at Veronica's] I packed and ate our shared pasta. (...) In any case, I thought, it was time to leave. We said goobye and I headed down to Pier 39. When i was at the Ferry building I realised there was something worng with the cable-car times. they kept increasing on the monitor! So, in a little panic, I ran all the way to Pier 39 with my bagpack.I looked like a mad woman and felt my legs about to collapse. 15 minutes of insane runing in a San Francisco night with 30 kilos on my back. How glamorous. I got there 10 min in advance though! And the bus was late more 5 minutes! Seriously... But I met a guy also waiting for the bus. He looked familiar and soon we realised he had been seating behind me on the train south. His name was Ryan and he looked like a bearded laid-back type.

So, me and Ryan started talking. He was 23 and lived in Sacramento. His current occupations: working in a bar, looking for fun things to do, riding his bike. And, when he went somewhere, 2 things were certain. He would be a) drinking a lot b)smoking a lot of pot. His visit to San Francisco had been a sort of "out of an impulse thing" and the only thing he regreted was not having dropped some acid. (Just for the record, marijuana, although illegal is osrt of a common thing in the stated. at least I got that impression. (...)) Meanwhile, Ryan went to smoke another joint and the train arrived. It was late and I was tired. I got my music goign and tried to sleep but Ryan came up and we talked all the way to Sacramento. I talked. he mumbled. People getting high - stops being cool when they stop being able to have a decnet conversation [but still want to have one!]. Also, when talking about how rough travelling alone is, he told me I had it worse "being a lady and all". No comments. When he got off at Sacramento I said bye and went to sleep.

The train north

At 5:30 AM of the next day I wake up in Dunsmuir, California with someone shouting "Derailment!". A freight train had derailed ahead. We were stuck. At first I panicked abit. But then I just enjoyed the warm train seat, read and knitted. (...) It took 9 hours for buses to arrive from Sacramento and load all passengers. Next stop. Eugene, Oregon. But the ride was beautiful through Northern California and Oregon. We saw so many things. From dry hills in California to the beautiful green valleys of Oregon. Along highway 5. I saw little towns with only one mainstreet. I saw trailer parks and the poeple living in them. i saw churches advertising their services like butter and I saw baseball games with parents cheering! I saw native reservations that were "Hotel and Casino Resorts" and even saw an Amish couple that was on board of the train ( at first i thought they were dressed in a costume). I saw America. In Seattle we boarded a bus to Vancouver. This old lady was going too. She had been to Portugal many times as a tour guide and it was lovely to tlak to her. She had such a beautiful white hair. White like snow. (...)

Vancouver

I arrived at the Pacific Central at 5 AM. What was I going to do in Vancouver that early? (...) I took a cab to the hostel (...) enjoyed 3 hours of sleep and breakfast and a shower. I got to do laundry and now have everything washed and dry in my bag. While i was at the laundry room I met this guy named Carlo who wrote the message that is some pages back on this book. [a poem about us "meeting" and "speaking of siliness, do you remember?" and apparently he noticed "I wore my hair long, down past your shoulder" and, finally, apparently "It didn't take long to fall in ---" , it literally ends with a line there and a phone number down]. He was a slightly sleazy italian musician from Toronto. He thought I was very friendly and had 2 tatoos clearly designed to impress. He invited me to his room, to hear him play guitar. .. Rigth pall, nice try (he looked well over 30). Yep, I have been meeting some characters I guess...

Filipa

#6 - Law and Order

Dolores Park café, S.F.
The 1st of May, 06
8:00AM

Day 8

Just to continue yesterday's writing: what are the funniest laws/signs I have seen around?

- on the trains, in San Francisco (subway), a sign saying it was forbidden for people younger than 18 to have in their possession spray, cans or markers thicker than half an inch. What happened to "do not deface"?

- The alchool restriction in parks. in Portland, in the "park blocks" you can't have a beer!

(...) I don't miss people. Yesterday i wrote emails and the like. It was funny because I didn't miss them (not in the " I wish you were here so badly I am goign to strat crying and have a knot on my throat for an entire day" way). I feel self-suficient, content, solving practical problems and, i sort of like it.

Filipa