Simplicity Is Beauty. Welcome To Canada! No, Go Home, You Poor Son Of A Bitch.

Monday, August 20, 2007 - Day 60

Woke up in Washington to wet ground. Must have been the fog because there was no sign of rain on the hammock. Despite the fact that I woke up at 9:30, I wasn't able to get my ass out of the campground until after 1. It started raining a bit, so I gathered my things and sought shelter under a covered picnic area. I wanted to let my tarp dry a bit, as well as my socks. The rain didn't last long, and it was a nice day afterwards.

Then it was off to the west, to Port Angeles, the port containing the special ferry that whisks travelers like me to the magical land of Canada. I was running a bit late, so it was a hurried ride to make it before the 5:15 ferry departed. Because I am lightening quick, I made it in plenty of time and purchased my ticket. It was cool and overcast for the ride over, but it was beautiful. The mountains were sillouetted against a gray sky with a slight orange glow on the horizon. The water was gorgeous, a very muted grayish-blue. I stayed at the bow of the ship the entire time, watching as we approached the island. Some people were very excited to see some orcas, maybe some dolphins, and seals. I think I saw a little penguin dive under the front of the ship. While standing on the boat, staring off, I thought a lot about simplicity and how, especially for me, that really is the essence of beauty. I thought of all the gorgeous sights I have seen along this trip and just how basic they are. A cliff, the vast ocean, some trees, a mountain. Even a sunset is so basic. Just a splash of some hues of red and orange and some grayish clouds over a very monotonous ocean, and you have true brilliance. I find the same characteristics true for all aspects of life. In people, I am so much more drawn to natural people, who don't use makeup. People who are honest, because honesty is simplicity. I enjoy the simple pleasures like good conversation, comfortable silence, and simple physical contact - hugs, a hand on the shoulder, even just a brushing together of legs or arms while sitting next to someone. That can be a big rush sometimes.

I made some friends on the ferry. A guy came up and asked me where I was from. A guy and his younger sister, Chris and Leah. They're from California, and Chris just moved to Pasadena to go to the art center there. They were really friendly, and we talked for the second half or so of the trip. Before leaving the boat, we exchanged numbers in hopes of meeting up in the city tomorrow for lunch or something. They are camping just outside of the city.

So while on the boat, as we pulled into the harbor, I was very calm, not quite excited yet. As I exited, guiding my bike down a really steep ramp to the land of Canada, my excitement grew. Then it was on to customs. I filled out a form on the boat, claiming I have no firearms, no drugs, no animals, but some vegetables. On to the lady who checks IDs and asks questions. How long are you staying in Canada? Do you have friends or family here? Have you been here before? How much money do you have?

I told her that I have a friend here. She asked how long I have known her. I told her not very long. She asked how I know her. I told her it was from the internet. Oh fuck! That doesn't sound good, does it. She wanted to know how long I was staying. I told her about two days or so on Vancouver Island, then probably back to the city of Vancouver later. She told me to go into the other room. Damn. It's like 10 til 7, and I'm supposed to meet my internet friend at 7. So a guy starts asking me some questions and looking through my bags. He looks through my shoulder bag, pulls out my journal. He thumbs through the pages, and I'm wondering if he's going to start reading it. I was going to make a suggestion for a good read. I told him about my bike ride, and he was impressed. He had never met anyone that had biked that far. We were waiting for some lady to come ask me some questions, so we were just conversing to kill some time. Then came the queen Canadian security bitch. She started asking me more questions about where I was staying, how I knew this girl, and such.

I told her that I met her on the internet, through a network called couchsurfing.com. She said, 'oh, you're a surfer.' I don't think she understood. I told her I didn't know exactly where she lived, but we were supposed to meet at a Starbucks. She wanted to know how much money I have. I told her I have 17 dollars in my pocket and some money on my cards. She wanted proof. I asked her how I could prove it to her, hoping that she didn't really have a valid way to prove it, because I don't actually have much money on any of my cards. She asked for receipts. Luckily I had an ATM receipt from a day ago that said I had at least 100 bucks in one account. It's not really accurate anymore. I took money out of one account to deposit it into another account so that I could pay my bills. So really, the seventeen bucks in my pocket is my only money, save about 10 dollars total in all my accounts. I also told her that my dad was going to put some money in my account tomorrow. She asked me for proof. What the fuck! I told her she could call him. She didn't want to do that for some reason. But she did want to call the girl I was supposed to stay with. Luckily I had her number written down. She tried once, but I guess no response. I asked another guy if I looked like a shady character or something. He said they just don't like people coming in with 10 bucks to their name, planning to hitchhike around, and use the soup kitchens. I assured him that wasn't me.

The lady came back and kept asking me my plans. I told her I was staying for two days, then off to the San Juan Islands. She wanted to know if I had my ferry ticket yet. Fucking eh! No, I don't have it yet because I don't know exactly where I need to go. I explained to her again how I knew this girl, Tamara. She asked what I would do if I couldn't get ahold of her. I told her I'd find a camp ground. 'What if the campground is all reserved and filled up?' I asked her if that was common. She had no idea. Give me a fucking break. She went to try to call Tamara again. She came back and said that she was able to reach her and that I could go. Finally. I could tell she wasn't happy about letting me go, but I guess she figured she had to. Is this how Canada treats it's #1 fan?

Ok, so I got through customs. I knew the area that Tamara lives in, and one of the guards was kind enough to set me off in the right direction to get to the neighborhood. I was so fucking stoked to be through that mess and into Canada. I called Tamara, hoping that she wasn't freaked out by a customs agent calling her about me. I was afraid she was going to think I am some kind of sketchy character. That would not be good. She was completely cool about it and, I guess, had been really excited over the phone about me getting in. I think that was what made her let me in. It's her birthday, and she evidently told the agent that, and told her not to confiscate her couchsurfer. That's fucking sweet.

By this point the real excitement of having made it had set in. I had a huge shit-eating grin on my face, ear to ear, the whole bike ride to Oak Village. I almost rode right by the Starbucks, which is evidently the only one in the area. I was amazed by that. I would have ridden right by, but two girls started clapping from the sidewalk. That must be her. There she was, with her friend Carly, holding a 12-pack of Corona. Alright! That can't be bad. A short walk to Tamara's place, and there are two friends waiting, Julie and Matt. I was so stoked to be here and to have some friendly people to hang out with. We cracked open the Coronas and hung out for a while and ate some delicious fruit crumble. The plan for the night was to set some paper lotuses, with candles in them, out to sea. So we walked down to the beach, a really calm bay.

It was really nice, mostly dark with a little bit of fog, and some light coming from a nearby dock with about a hundred sailboats tied up. There was talk also of taking a little boat out to an island not far offshore. Unfortunately, we didn't have any oars. Oh, but the best part of this little bay - phosphorescent plankton. Holy shit, I've been wanting to see that stuff for long time. I thought it was only in tropical places. It's a glowing effect that is created by a certain kind of plankton. The glow when the water is disturbed, so ripples of glowing water are created around splashes of any kind. The rocks right by the water sparkle when you step on them. So I had a grand old time just skipping rocks across the water and watching the ripples glow. I wanted to go swimming, but it was way too cold. The lotuses were amazing as well. They were pretty origami lotuses made by Carly that they set on small pieces of driftwood with little candles inside them. The simplicity. Against the dark water and dark sky, with the dock of ships glowing behind them, it really was a sight to behold, four or five of them just floating off.

Then we walked back and Matt had to leave. The rest of us went back to Tamara's and had a few more drinks. Then it was time for bed. I ended up staying up late and talking with Julie for a long time. She loves to talk politics, especially social politics, it seems.

The best part of Tamara's place is her hammocks. She has two hammocks from Thailand strung across her livingroom. They are really comfy. They are a light canvas, I think. They seem durable and incredibly practical. And so simple! That's the life, sleeping in a hammock in Canada! Live it up, Otis!


Send Otis a comment

name:

email:

title:

message:


Comments

moonlight and maple leaves

Joel

Congratulations!

The bus would be proud.


welcome to Canada

Mark

Hey Otis, good work on making it to Victoria. I hope you got a chance to see Darth Vader playing his violin down by the harbour.