oh, canada

It's been a while since my last post. Bet you thought something happened. Like we got eaten by a grizzly bear in Banff. Or we turned around at the Canadian border and went back to Portland. Or we had a life changing experience in Saskatchewan and started an organic farm where you can see 50 miles in every direction. Nope. We just got home and got busy with the boring but essential stuff like finding a place to live.

Now that that's taken care of, I can tell you about Canada. What you should know about this part of the trip is that I have a pretty sweet mother in law. Example: She flew out to meet us in Seattle and hop on a ferry over to Vancouver Island to camp for a couple nights before taking another ferry to Vancouver. She had only a backpack of belongings, in which she somehow managed to find room for wild blueberries and a chocolate bar (camping essentials) in addition to her clothes and sleeping bag.

Vancouver Island was, not surprisingly, beautiful. The somewhat surprising bit (which can probably be attributed to my naivete about the area) was how commercial it was. There are no bridges to the main land, so I assumed things would be pretty old school. Not so. Apparently you can build a McDonald's or Walmart anywhere, even if you have to do it by boat. The camping areas were pristine though and the Canadians were predictably and consistently friendly and welcoming. I was also thrilled to find out that they really do say 'eh' all the time. I mean all the time.

Nancy - my mother in law - is a pretty experienced traveler and a more experienced camper than either of us, even after this summer - and she was a trooper. We went from camping and hiking in the Canadian wilderness to arriving in Vancouver on what we found out was the city's Pride weekend and she did it all without the slightest reservation.

You know you have a cool mother in law when your first night in Vancouver is spent walking up and down Davie Street, watching drag queens at the Pride block party. Especially when this is following the biggest lodging debacle of the trip. Murphy's Law dictated that our hotel would be a bust on one of the few nights of the trip where we actually made advance reservations and with mother in law in tow. We show up to the place, the deceivingly named Granville Grand Hotel, and the first tip off should have been that the guy at the front desk, who was wearing a plain white t-shirt, informed us that while 20 foot banner outside the front door still advertised it, the complimentary breakfast was no longer available. And the wifi only worked in the downstairs lobby... sometimes. And there was no elevator, so we would be huffing our bags up a few flights of stairs. And by 'private bathroom' they meant, not that there was a bathroom in the room, but that there was a bathroom in the hallway with a lock on it. But we had gotten a good deal on the room, and with most good deals you have to be ready to make a few concessions. So, concessions made. We huffed and puffed our way to our room, which was approximately 110 degrees, and found a sign on the back of the door advising us to use the peephole before letting anyone into the room and to be sure to also use the chain lock. This might have been only mildly disturbing if there had actually been a peephole or a chain lock on the door. And then here's the inevitable question of what event lead to that notice being posted on the door in the first place. Still, we decided to stick it out. We took turns showering and it wasn’t until I was showering and Curt and Nancy were moving the car that we learned we really couldn’t stay. Apparently the hotel was being sold over the weekend and they had to cancel our last night’s stay. That was the last straw for us, so we left the hotel and stayed at a more expensive, though considerably less sketchy, one a few blocks away.

Then there was the Pride block party. This was as entertaining and fabulous as you’re imagining. And it made for a pretty fantastic mother-in-law/daughter-in-law bonding experience. I recommend it.

Before visiting Vancouver, I had heard it referred to as the most beautiful city in the world. That’s a pretty bold statement, and I won’t necessarily second it (my vote, thus far, goes to Florence) but I will say that it is the most naturally beautiful city I’ve seen. By this I mean that it’s not an exceptionally old city, so it doesn’t have some of the more beautiful architecture other cities are known for, but the whole city is right up against the water, which is right up against a backdrop of mountains. Pretty hard to beat that.

Plus, while we were there they had this huge fireworks festival. Now, normally I'm not a fireworks girl at all. They just don't do it for me. But these were different. These were incredible. They just might have changed my mind.

From Vancouver, we decided to take the Canadian side back since neither one of us had ever done that. And since, as Americans and as Minnesotans specifically, we hear shamefully little about the country that sits right on top of us. In short, we were curious.

From Vancouver Island we had gone to Vancouver and from there our next stop was Banff, and by the time we got to Banff I realized that Canada doesn’t get nearly the credit it deserves for the beauty it possesses. Banff is so beautiful it’s crazy. And if the lines were drawn differently and the Canadian Rockies weren’t in Canada but in the states, you would never hear of anyone taking a family trip to the Rockies on our side. There, I said it.

A good chunk of Canada is also really flat and boring. Not surprisingly, it’s the chunk that sits on top of North Dakota and the eastern side of Montana. As a stereotypically friendly Canadian at a campsite told us, ‘If your dog runs away in Saskatchewan, you watch him run for two days.’ At that point, though, we were just trying to make it home and were grateful for a respite from the switchback mountain roads. Another fun thing about Canada is that absolutely everything is printed in both English and French. And because I’m a dork, I got a total kick out of buying Honey Nut Cheerios at a grocery store and recognizing the French word for honey (miel) on the box. Oh, the many things I remember from my college French classes.

The final stop was technically in Canada but also felt like home - Curt’s parents’ cabin on Rainy Lake. It was the perfect way to ease back into the lives we had left for two months. And now that we’re back, I can honestly say that (though I did fall in love with Portland and Curt was ready to become a mountain man in Big Sur) I missed Minneapolis and I’m happy to be home.

For those of you who are counting, here are the wild animals encountered along the way:

Wild Cows

Stray Dogs

Raccoons

Seals

Dolphins

Rattlesnakes

Peacock (not technically wild, but this is my blog so I’m counting it)

Elk

Weasel

Lizards

Starfish and various sea anemones

Thankfully, no mountain lions or grizzly bears.

Number of friends and family who graciously let us crash at their places: 7 (Thanks again, everyone!)

Number of coffee shops visited: Lost count somewhere around Seattle...

Number of miles traveled: 8322. Seriously.