Thursday July 16th
Well, the big day finally came. Unfortunately it started off in Terminal Four which is one of those places that looks great in some architectural coffee table book but is hopeless if you actually want to check in and fly off somewhere. Needless to say this culminated in me on the verge of a “nervy b” as Rhona so subtly described it, but in the end we made it to the plane and the unfettered bliss of being surrounded by 30 Spanish teenagers all heading off to study English in the UK. Now we were already travelling with one moody, nervous , excited teen, so multiplying this 30 fold was just heaven, but it’s amazing what the numbing effects of gin can do.
We passed through Heathrow unscathed and so to the girls’ first intercontinental flight. It’s amazing how much excitement those of us who are frequent flyers with EasyJet can derive from being provided with blanket, flight socks and a miniature toothbrush, meals delivered in a dozen plastic containers and unlimited amounts of free alcohol. Best of all was the individual in-flight DVD and for Maya the realization that as long as she kept quiet and didn’t wriggle no one was going to stop her watching 4 films back-to-back. We took off at 5.30pm, the 9 hour flight passed with relative ease and at 6.30pm we were in Vancouver.
Our Punjabi-only taxi driver brought us downtown to our hotel – the YWCA hotel on Beatty Street a stone’s throw from BC Place – home to the BC Lions Canadian football team and walking distance to Gastown and Chinatown. We set off to tour the neighbourhood and ended up eating dinner in Rosie’s, a nearby diner. The waiter, Josh, was incredibly attentive – if unintelligible - the Vancouver accent sounding like American English with Swedish intonation grafted on. The service here is great, but the minimum 15% tipping comes as something of a surprise after Madrid where Spanish friends restrain you if you try to leave anything more than 10 cents. Here, the bill comes thoughtfully furnished with the total amounts you should leave depending on whether you want to leave 15, 18 or 20%.
Friday July 17th
Despite having only 2 hours sleep in 24 hours, jet lag came knocking for me at 2am and by 7 even the Sloth Sisters were up and raring to go. They were of course encouraged to get going by the prospect of our first Canadian breakfast at Ricky’s diner: eggs, sausage, bacon and toast alongside pancakes and gallons of maple syrup, the cholesterol and calorific excess of which was evidenced in the girths of our fellow diners.
Our consciences were clear though: after eating enough to transform Operación Bikini into Operación Kaftan, we were off to the bike hire shop at the entrance to Stanley Park. We set off on the 10k trail round the seawall on the park’s perimeter: fantastic views of Vancouver, totem poles and then out to the Pacific. The weather was fantastic and on Second Beach Maya, the veteran beachcomber, soon had 4 crabs and a dead fish laid out on a rock like some primeval offering to the gods. We turned inland through the temperate rain forest in the centre of the island, to Beaver Lake covered in pink water lilies. We spotted our first raccoon and then headed off for Vancouver Aquarium.
The exhibits were incredible with all kinds of sharks, jellyfish, rays and sea urchins; seals, Beluga whales and a dolphin show; sloths, parrots and huge butterflies in the tropical area and a fantastic 4D projection where as well as wearing 3D glasses, we sat in chairs which buzzed, vibrated, poked you in the back, sprayed you with water and blew ocean breezes at you while we watched a film on the shallow seas.
