Winnipeg

Ooch.  I'm homesick already.
Man, for a while there I was reeling in my vagabonding instincts of the past.  Maybe it's just something about being on the road and once I'm on it again, it'll be easy for him to slip back in that mode.


That said, I am so happy to be with Rhea, her stage manager Lucia, and her mother.  We're all crashing at her mom's house at the west end of Winnipeg who is taking good care of us.

Rhea and I get together and don't stop gabbing so the first night we walked around the city and then got home and talked some more and didn't realize it was almost 2pm.  Love this girl.

The Fringe here is huge!  Something like 170 performances, 30 venues, and all centralized in the downtown square.  Winnipeg knows how to throw a festival that the whole city can get involved in - though San Francisco's is younger, it's super small in comparison and I hope it can get this big one day.  Maybe I'll be the one to do it.

I've spent a lot of my time at the fringe square and just wandering around downtown, soaking up the sun and feel of this city.  I found the library which lead to a long tunnel that ran though all of the shopping district.  There is definitely a sense of displacement among the First Nations people which is easy to spot from the outside looking in.  I don't know enough about the history and current structure to speak to it, but the struggle is there.

I've spent a lot of time with Rhea's mom who is a long-time actress, teacher, and creator in the arts community of Winnipeg.  She and I helped promote Rhea's show and she told me about the history of Winnipeg's art community in between hellos to everyone who knew her, which was quite a few.  I also met her father briefly who is an actor as well and is so happy to have a performance at The Fringe at the same time as his daughter.

Rhea had a really good performance and it was incredible to see her onstage in a solo work.  My friend is a comedic natural and a fierce writer.  Friendships are so vital and I am very glad I made this trek to see her.

Prairie Land

The ride through the rest of the prairies got a little rough and tedious.  From the scenery, I felt like I was back home, driving through a long stretch of the central valley of California.  From the company, I was reminded I was in Canada.  There was definitely a distinct accent in these parts.  


I sat next to the 7-year-old obese Owen whom we picked up in Saskatchewan.  I wanted to clobber his awful parents for feeding him Timbits and chocolate milk for lunch, and then Pepsi for a snack when we made a pit stop. A kid who looked like someone on the Maury Show and who was hard to understand because of all the fat squished around his mouth.  He's a sweet kid, and really talkative.  He didn't know what California was and thought it was pretty weird that I didn't have a TV and that I preferred bike riding to video games.  He asked me if I had kids, and when he learned I didn't Owen was curious what their names would be.  I tried reading my book to him, but it made him fall asleep.  At one point he just said, "You're nice.  And your hair is nice."  He quickly redeemed himself by making a joke: Patrick and Spongebob were hanging out and then Spongebob Square Pants died.  Cue hysterical laughter.


Halfway through Manatoba we picked up some first nations teenage boys.  A man had politely asked if he could sit beside me because he didn't want to sit next to the "rough newcomers."  One of the boys awkwardly tried to chat me up about books because he saw I had one, but I just gave minimal acknowledgement.  He fell asleep and cursed like a sailor in his dreams.  I had just gotten to the chapter about the massacre of the Red Indians of Canada.

The man I'd shared my seat was off at the next stop and while he made his way out, I noticed that my potty mouth neighbor had dropped his Winnipeg Jets cap and sunglasses.  He was waking up so I handed them over to him.  He looked confused then angry and flipped me off then tried to grab my hand.  I quickly recoiled and gave him a scathing look.  What a creep.  Two guys my age who had gotten on at Calgary looked back to make sure I was okay and rolled their eyes at my now sleeping and cursing neighbor.

My new neighbor was a well-intentioned guy from Brandon, MB.  I tell ya, I'm going to make a concerted effort to look crazy and totally gross when I ride the bus next.  I could tell he was embarrassed when his cousin gave him a big grin and a nudge when he saw that he was sitting next to a girl.  I just kept to my book but eventually he dared to ask me the time.  We talked a little bit, and I found out they were taking the bus to Winnipeg because that's where they went to party.  I now realized where all the teenagers were going.  It was Friday night and Winnipeg was the nearest place to have a good time.  Daniel told me that it was pretty wild, and as we neared Winnipeg he showed me a few of the sights: his old apartment complex, the old strip club, the mall, the women's jail.  He was making a great case for himself when he told me about getting his licensed revoked for ten years for drinking and driving (hence his riding the Greyhound into town).  Daniel also informed me when we passed through the stop where the famous Greyhound decapitation had occurred.  He told me we should be friends on Facebook, which I laughed at and said I didn't use, and besides I wouldn't see him again anyway.  But he was better than the creep, so I asked if he could let me off ahead of him so he could keep that guy away from me.  Daniel puffed up saying, "Hgave you trouble?"  I just laughed.  I didn't want any weird defending of my honor or something.  "He's a kid.  I don't care."  Daniel replied, "Alright, but I hate guys that talk bigger than they are."

Some people would think my way of traveling is a little absurd, but honestly, how else do you get to know a country?  I hope there's a version of the Greyhound in Europe. 

Vancouver -> Saskatchewan

This leg of my journey started in Vancouver at 6:20am on Thursday 7/19, and ends in Winnipeg at 8:30pm on Friday 7/20.

Left the Cambie a little later than I'd originally planned so I had to hustle on Cordova street to the main city transit station that could take me to the Greyhound, I realized that my suitcase started feeling heavier and heavier. Wouldn't you know it, the wheels were already worn down from my trip so far – cheap piece of crap! But I had a bus to catch so there was nothing to do but drag the dead weight and sweat bullets.

I got to the Greyhound station just as the bus was pulling out. The woman at the counter helpfully informed me that one should always be a half an hour early. When I asked if my bus was here she said she did not know. Thanks lady!

The driver saw me run out and gladly let me aboard. I was off! For some leg of the trip through British Colombia I sat beside an elderly woman returning to her home in Salmon Arm, BC. She shared chocolate, raspberries, and even gave me her pillow when I kept dozing off. We exchanged the occasional word, but it seemed both of us were more content to read. Other than this, it has been a very quiet and reflective leg of the trip. While I could have forged conversation with a few people I found interesting, I didn't feel the need. I've been going back and forth between The Lean Startup and My Country – a book my Grandfather let me borrow before he passed away about old tales of Canada.

The Greyhound bus I'd taken through California to Seattle was dodgy in interior and patronage, but the Canadian buses so far have been miles better.

On British Colombia: I'm sorry, but the grass is greener. At least during this season. I have never seen so many trees in my life. I've never gasped out loud at natures spectacle before. It was hard to get anything done because I just wanted to stare out the window the whole ride at the lush meadows, sparkling water, towering rockies, trees and more trees, and the occasional animal. If nothing else, my trip is already worth it just to have driven that route.

We hit the national park in Banff, Alberta around 9pm and it didn't get dark until a little after 10 so I was able to see a little bit of this province. Other than a short stop-over in Calgary there isn't anything to note except a guy sat next to me that gave me the creeps. There were plenty of spots still totally empty in the back when he had filed in. Clearly, he thought we were going to chat. I decided regardless, I was moving at the rest stop because I needed sleep and I didn't feel at all comfortable sitting next to this guy, much less sleeping next to him. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt as I read my book, but as he chuckled to himself while playing connect four or something stupid on his phone he kept glancing over at me. I almost wished he would have tried something so I could publicly embarrass him with a talking to – it was dead quiet because people were trying to sleep and it would have been too easy. Did I mention I realized how dumb it would have been to try crossing the boarder with a pocket knife and peper spray when it's against the rules to cary it on the Greyhound? I had to throw them out before crossing at a rest stop. I decided it was just best to go find a nice looking lady to sit with (all empty spots were taken by now) and avoid any confrontation altogether.

Saskatchewan is all flat and fields, marshes, baby ducks, and rolls of hay. Hopefully just in an attempt to break monotony, the driver rubber necked and informed us all to look out to the left at an upsidown RV and a bike in front of it. I didn't see carnage so I hope the bike just fell from the RV.

I just have to say, this is actually really pleasant and I don't mind traveling this way. Sure, you're on the road a lot and your butt kind of hurts if you don't shift around a bit. I basically change and shower every other day, but it's not like I'm breaking a sweat. I'm not paying for a bed to sleep in, or eating out. It's a frugal and relaxing way to see Canada. It helps, I'm sure, that I'm an easy-going-let-the-wind-take-me kind of traveler. Anyway, I was worried this was a hairbrained idea that I was going to regret after day one, so it's terrific that it's the opposite.

Canada Travelogue Day 1

Just want to keep a brief outline of my time Greyhounding to Canada and back.

Took off from Stockton on Tuesday, 7/17 at 4:30pm.  The station is sketchy and people looked at Rachel and I funny so I asked her to stay with me while we waited.  Don't worry about me though, there is much kindness in traveling strangers and even if there isn't the beauty of Greyhound is that I have a pocket knife and pepper spray that I won't hesitate to use.

At a transfer point in Sacramento I met the one-year-old Misha and her lion-hearted pregnant mother.  Misha became my fast-friend, and by extension so did her mom Kimi.  So I had travel companions from Sacramento all the way to their stop in Medford, Oregon.  Kimi and Misha were on a journey from Texas to meet with Kimi's mom whom she had only reunited with in the last two years.  I was glad to be of help and to hold Misha as much as I could.

We get far out from Sacramento, way past Marysville and the driver gets a call.  Corey Fischer is deaf and he's on our bus.  The wrong bus.  The driver goes down the aisle saying his name and Corey, beside us, sees his lips move and raises his hand.  The driver rolls his eyes and runs to the front. Without explanation to any of us, or to Corey he turns the bus around and hits every dirt road and little path to drop Corey back at Marysville.  Not that any of us were told this, but we deduced it was either this, or the driver was going to shoot us all in a cornfield off the beaten path.  We didn't' even know that Corey was deaf, but Kimi had already put two and two together and was scrounging for a pen and explaining the situation to me quite loudly so that people would stop giving the confused and embarrassed Corey bad looks.  She found a receipt and a colored pencil and wrote out, "Wrong bus.  We've got to get you to your luggage.  Don't worry, they'll fix it."

The whole drive back to Marysville was comical for me and everything I expect the Greyhound experience to be.  I'm in no hurry, I'm here for the ride.  I did feel bad for Corey though.

I'm off to a great start because I also met a 24-year-old Irish girl who was going to Vancouver as well.  On the way we met an Irish guy and it was great talking with the two of them.  Dennis and Maeve gave me a list of must see Irish movies and shows when I asked, but I was told Americans don't really get the humor.  One of our drivers, Tony, cracked jokes and knew how to bend the rules so that we were back on schedule from our Corey detour while also getting frequent stops for food and bathroom breaks so we didn't need to use the scary toilet at the back of the bus.

For this night I am grateful for a bed at The Cambie in Gastown of Vancouver.  I've stayed here before and had a great time, plus I know the area like I was here yesterday.

I leave bright and early tomorrow for Winnipeg!

Council Bluffs, IA & Omaha, NE

At Council Bluffs there is a historical park for the Oregon trail, California trail, and Mormon trail. It's got lots of info on all of them because it was a big stopping point for people just before crossing the Missouri river into Nebraska. We walked around a bit and then got into Nebraska within 15 minutes.

I was pretty stoked for Omaha. I played Bright Eyes, Cassadaga - even though it's named after a place in Florida I find this one the easiest to listen to with my Dad, and plus I find it a little difficult to listen to too much before Cassadaga when Conor (and I) really reveled in being melancholy and emotional. I'm grateful he embraced the folk so that I couldn't grow out of him. Anyway, I was getting all amped up to see his city.

We stopped at the cite for winter quarters in Omaha where they have a temple, visitors center, and cemetery. I'm fairly certain an ancestor on my mother's side was buried here. The visitors center was really nicely put together and women or Sister Missionaries were in charge of showing us around. They were super nice and interesting to talk to and I was really grateful that neither of them tried to give their testimony or impress much on us. It's always pretty interesting to run into these girls because I'm getting older than the missionary age now; these are young women who are devoting two years of their life to serving a mission and the church only requires that men do it so I'm always kind of impressed when I see women on a mission.

Omaha itself was pretty lame and felt like it was trying to attract tourism. I did scope out a music venue that Conor opened up with his brother but even that wasn't a very cool area; the only things next to it were an American Apparel, a new bike shop, and a new clean-looking bar. A pretty sad attempt and probably where all the hipsters congregate. Other than that it was pretty hot, or the hottest I've been in a while. I've got a pretty nasty sunburn actually.

We stopped in Lincoln as well since it was on the way anyway. It had more potential as an interesting place in the west. We stopped in the Nebraska University bookstore for little sou veneers and I found a thrift store so I got a sweet Nebraska Huskers (for corn husking) sweatshirt for a few dollars.

Then it was moving onward to a place called Ogallala, NE where we were to spend the night. We finished Freakonomics which I've been playing from my computer and Dad didn't enjoy Assassination Vacation so I'm hoping we can just compromise on music because I've already had to listen to three mormon scholars talking about the Devinci Code. Luckily Dad agreed to read to me from an ancestral book produced on his mothers side - this one is able to go back all the way to someone that came on the Mayflower and had English and Danish ties. I also found out, though I can't remember how exactly, that this ancestor is tied with New Brunswick. I kinda feel like a nerd but I'm really enjoying reading all my background history because I'm such a jumbled mix of a bunch of English, Scottish, German, Danish, Irish whatever that I'm feeling good about actually knowing who came to the states when and just what their story was. I'm probably going to make a book of sorts for myself about where and who I come from.

Nauvoo, Illinois

I just watched an uploaded youtube video of my brother in the green man suit attacking my sister: awesome.

Today was jam packed, with lots of driving and mormon stuff.

Dad and I made it to Nauvoo in good time this morning. The town is pretty much one street with one gas station, a few restaurants, and little mom and pop religious stores. The tallest building is the 2002 restored version of the original Nauvoo temple. There are lots of churches there, I was surprised that there were so many different ones in a town that was founded by Mormons and was originally a malaria infested swamp that they were forced into from the Missouri river, but I suppose it makes sense as it is a little community that was founded by highly religious people at the onset.

Dad and I stopped in the visitors center and quickly realized we were on a tour with a the Community of Christ - a church that splintered of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (or Mormons). It was pretty interesting - I guess when the Mormons moved from continued pressure from the government and mobs and after Joseph Smith's death, his wife Emma decided to stay and her son founded the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints; later becoming Community of Christ.

Anyway I saw Joe Smith's house and other sites in Nauvoo that were well preserved. Walk a little further down to and you get onto the property owned by Mormons. It's kind of confusing. Dad really likes gun history and will name firearms while watching a movie. I on the other hand could care less what handgun was manufactured where and who created it but I also never knew that it was a Mormon, John Browning, that created many of the guns that were used in the US wars and still are used today. It was kind of bizarre because we walked in thinking we'd take a quick look around and leave but were were roped into a tour by an elderly Mormon guy who ended the tour with his testimony and handed us a card to fill out so we could send stuff to a friend about the church. Such is the way with Mormons; always being missionaries. I was getting a little irritated with not being allowed to just look at the site from an objective historical view with both these churches giving their testimonies, though the Community of Christ is very intriguing to me as most splinter groups are.

The Nauvoo temple was recently restored from a fire long ago. It's a really pretty simple temple that looks out onto the Mississippi. And as always when you stop at these locations we saw Mormon wedding pictures going on.

We ate in the little town and walked around a bit. Then we took off for Iowa just past the Mississippi where Nauvoo lies on the Illinois side. We stopped in Des Moines to eat and look around. We found a German pub/restaurant and ate there. Des Moines wasn't very interesting so we left pretty quickly after that. Unfortunately it isn't quite corn season so I didn't get to see what Iowa was known for. Dad read me the story of an ancestor from his side: five Robertson brothers and their mother moved from Scotland to join the church sometime after they were already in Salt Lake. The mother died and was buried in an unmarked grave at the location we were heading to spend the night: Council Bluffs, Iowa. It's pretty neat reading about these five and especially the one I'm descended from. The guy even seems to have my dad's cheesy factor as is evident in some "poetry" he wrote.

Mormon Trail

Something likened to the Loch Ness monster mixed with Darth Vader invaded our room last night in Rock Falls, IL; I'm speaking, of course, of my father's snoring, which I'd forgotten about over my eight months time away. I contemplated throwing a pillow at him from across the room but I knew any effort would be fruitless after five minutes. This will be interesting.

Yesterday I ate more Chicago food and went to the art institute (great art museum – lots of Monet). Dad picked me up around seven and we were off after figuring out where we should stop for the night. We picked a place called Rock Falls, based on name and halfway point.

Last night we planned out the next two days. Or I did the organizing while Dad jumped around all excited with stories about our ancestors and what places he had seen on the way to get me. You see we're going back along the Mormon trail. I'll be brief because those who are reading this (maybe just Cameron and Graham, already know what's up): while in Canada I saw a four hour special on the Latter Day Saints and I – quite late in the game – began to show some interest and appreciation for my history. I don't consider myself a member of the church but I certainly have a lot of respect for my heritage and the individuals who crossed from the midwest into Salt Lake City. It's pretty cool to know where my roots are and to be able to trace it right here in my country. So we figured, while Dad was coming to get me, why not make it kind of a dorky semi following of the Mormon trail. Dad's brought a book from his family and my Mom's with recorded journals and we're going to be stopping at important sites, pretty much the same route as the Oregon trail. I'm pretty excited. Maybe not as much as he is, but still.

We start out in Nauvoo, Illinois today; the location of The Saints (what they called themselves) began their trek and we'll end up at Council Bluffs Iowa by the end of the night.

Map here. For now I've got to get on my way and do some driving which is great because I haven't driven in a very long time.