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!