VAN VAC 2003

After a few days of hemming and hawing about whether to go or no the decision to flee came suddenly on Sunday night. I gave the Monkeyman a call, telling his answering machine that I'd be in town around 16:00 his time, before going to bed for a sleepless night. Now here is some of my travel diary from this, the latest, perhaps greatest trip to Van.

Monday, July... July... 28th! That's it! Vancouver.

The drive here was fucking BRUTAL. Arrr... 40c through that hated uphill drive after Kamloops, in a car with nothing but manual A/C. No other word for it but brutal. But here I be, back @ the Blue Iguana, a 42ft Chris Craft moored at the Plaza of Nations Marina. Monkeyman's Boat. I lean my head over the bow and stare for a moment down at the water. The ocean is black here in the marina, a greenish, inky black. Looking, reflecting... the first thing that popped into my head as I found myself driving down Broadway is: "It's good to be home." I just drove all the way from Calgary and boy, is my ass tired! The Monkeyman returns and we head off to the Yaletown Brew Pub and have a couple (three) beers. Headed back to the boat in case the Marina gate was closed when the Monkeyman's brother returned from his day trip to Whistler. He was back already and puttering around the boat, but we ran into Lori and Joel (no, different Lori, different Joel). They are from Calgary too. Of course they are, as no one in Vancouver is actually from Vancouver! Lori has jet black hair with an off center stripe of fire engine red. Joel is wearing a hat so I can't really say what kind of hair he may or may not have. Lori and Joel go home after a brief boat tour and the Monkeyman and I take off to Gastown and have a drink at the Lamplighter with it's tall celings and out of order Lethal Weapon pinball machine near the door. The money machine in there charges an extra $2.50 to take out cash! What a fucking rip! Had a Keiths there before going over to the Irish Heather for a Harp Lager, then back to the boat. The both of us are completly worn out from our respective days, me with the brutal drive through 1000c weather, and he with his concrete pouring job.

Tuesday, July 29, 2003

Sleep? None too restful as the Monkeyman's brother had showed up in town a day earlier than I and the both of us had to share the V-berth. I kept waking up every time he moved, or I moved, whatever. I got out of bed to the sound of the Monkeyman clattering around making some morning tea. He apologises for waking me and I shrug. The boat is his home, so he can make whatever noise he wants I reckon. I walk over to the 7-11 thats just across from the T&T supermarket. Breakfast: Sobe Green Tea(herbal), and a Country Biscuit Egg, Sausage + Cheddar, best before July 31. Happy to see the Marina Gate is still open upon my return. Try to heat up the breakfast sand in the micro, but noe of the buttons seem to work. It's plugged in, the clock is showing, but no dice. I climb out on to the bow and eat the breakfast cold. There is like, a huge blister on the pad under the big toe on my right foot that is causig me great pain. I can almost here my mother's voice telling me: "Don't pick at it!" So of course I do pick at it until it bursts with an angry pop. Now it hurts, and it's an open blister. I suppose I never will learn. For a few moments I entertain the thought of going over the bridge into Kits and to the beach, then the parking pain rears it's ugly ass in my face again. I have such a sweet, free parking spot right there on Pacific Blvd, and I know the second I move some guy (or girl I suppose) is going to be right there to snag that prime piece of parking real estate. Parking; the second biggest pain I can see about living here on the boat, unless of course you want to pay PImp Park $150 bucks a month for a space here along the sea wall. If one really lived here it would be easy enough to just walk, take the skytrain, or the seabus, or taxi's to wherever you needed to be. The briney sea-air is starting to screatch up my throat. Must remember to breath through my nose all the time. I feel like shaving, but I don't all at once. It's such a wonderful morning I decide not to spoil it just yet with the mediocre chores of everyday life. So far: 1/4 land/sea, 3/4 sky. I think SOMEONE (You know who you are) is trying to pull my leg! Out in False Creek, a three man row boat goes by while an instructor screams at them from a small motorboat that keeps pace.

more later...