Off the record, on the record

Hey guys! Have something to say about what you've read here? A question pertaining to the finer points of surfing, the couch or ocean varieties? Think I'm a goof and want to let me know in a humorous and entertaining fashion? Comment, because I'd love to hear from you! Don't be like my dad and wait for someone to comment first. Be a ground breaker, an earth shaker, a real life saver and write a note on my blog. I will love you forever!

Two nights ago Jen and I fixed the previous comment glitch so worry no more, formerly failed commenters. Your chance to be heard is neigh!

With love always,
Andrea

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It was on Thursday that Jeanette sent me down to Victoria to stay with her sons, Jessie and Cam, at their party house in a suburb called Langford. Nick, their cousin, lives there too, along with Andrew, an unrelated but totally beloved roommate. They each have a dog, and Nick has two named Bailey and Angel. It's a lot of boys and a lot of dogs.

When Jessie introduced me to his housemates and to the many people who passed through that night, he'd say, "This is Andrea. She's writing a blog." Couch surfing was secondary. Andrea's writing a blog, that's why she's here. So what's your blog about? You gonna write about us? Can I say something off the record? Don't put this on your blog. Blog blog blog. I'm going to write about those boys and make them famous.

The night was fun. The drink of choice is Lucky Lager, and cigarettes are smoked in long chains. We sat on an elevated front yard deck around a big patio table. I sat and listened to stories about people they knew, people they hated, people they punched, people they fucked, people I'd never meet. I like those kinds of stories because I have to use my imagination to piece together personalities based on what is being said. It's nice to flex my creative muscles now and then.

I think it's safe to say that vegetarians are a minority on Vancouver Island. I was greeted at the house with, "We just shot a bear in the bush last week and now he's in the freezer! You want some?" I dropped the V-word and they looked at me like I was some kinda strange breed of human. Bear did sound interesting though. As the night progressed I was getting more and more curious and more and more drunk, and had they been sober enough to cook up a bear arm, I would have probably taken a bite. When would I eat fresh bear? When? They don't breed that shit on farms, man! A couple of guys went into the forest with the sole intention of proving their manhood by shooting a wild bear. They gutted it themselves and there it was in the freezer. Hell yes I'll sacrifice my morals for bragging rites. Who the hell eats bear?! No one in Ontario, that's for sure.

The next day I woke up in a bed - not because of some drunken night of sloppy west coast passion, but because Jessie offered to sleep on the couch while I stayed at the Casa de Man. I spent the day writing (have you SEEN how long that last post is? It took HOURS!) and then went outside for a walk. I had no idea where I was but I wanted food so I followed two teenage boys down the Galloping Goose Trail. If there's anyone who knows the way to food, it's a pair of pimply fourteen-year-old boys. From there I found your average suburban outdoor mall, ripe with a Shopper's Drug Mart, Best Buy, Blockbuster, Boston Pizza, and luckily for me, a Cob's Bread where I bought myself a bland spinach and feta croissant. It was all butter and no feta, with limp and soggy green stuff making the rare appearance. So I went to a Superstore - which I've seen plenty of on the other coast but never in the middle - to buy myself some apples.

I walked in and felt lost. It was like Costco but with lower shelves, glossier floors, and an admirable attempt at supermarket interior design. There were signs going every which way for sales and PC Points and TOMORROW IS SENIORS DAY GET 10% OFF while the apples were no where to be seen. I walked over to an older woman at a table stationed at the shampoo aisle with a big bowl of BBQ chips and two competing brands of ketchup. Testers: easily the best part about going to any big-ass supermarket. I'll take free food when I can get it, even if part of the deal is thinking about whether I'd prefer this ketchup over that ketchup. The taste-test didn't even make sense. Lick ketchup off this chip, then lick ketchup off the same strongly-flavoured chip and tell me which one you like better. I'm not even tasting ketchup lady, I'm tasting barbeque chicken! At any rate, I said I liked "this" ketchup better and it turned out to be the wrong answer. "Oh," she said. "You actually chose the Heinz over our PC Brand ketchup which has 50% less sodium but all the same ingredients. I guess you like salt." Yes, I guess I do.

While we were sharing this moment in brand-name heaven, I decided to ask her if the Galloping Goose Trail led to Victoria and how long it would take me to get there. "You wanna get to Victoria? No... that's at least 16k dear, you're in for a walk. You really wanna walk there?" I told her maybe not all the way, but just as something to do. Then she told me that was all fine and good but to stay off the Galloping Goose come night time. Rapes and murders were common at night, and last week they found the body of a missing fourteen-year-old girl burnt to a crisp. They prey on young girls like me in the Galloping Goose, she said. Okay, I told her, I won't go on the trail at night, but she kept going. There's flashers too, perverts are common because they can get away with it, there's no supervision. Okay. Lots of wild animals too, but look out for the rapists. Kay, but where are the apples? Girls get murdered on that trail, girls that look like you! OKAY BYE THANKS.

I found the apples and got some strawberries while I was at it because they were a dollar a pound. Why, I do not know, but I jumped on that bandwagon fast. I figured maybe the boys would like a treat. I went back to the trail with an apple in my hand and walked for about half-an-hour until I realized I might have gone the wrong way. I looked at a map and concluded that yes, I had gone the wrong way, and turned back immediately. Having dumbly not read any street signs on my way to the path, I relied solely on familiar visual clues to tell me where I was. That was a bad idea. I walked right by my exit point for another half-an-hour until I knew for sure that I hadn't seen what I was seeing before. I'm pretty sure I would have noticed this big beautiful lake or this field full of alpaca if I passed it before... so I turned back again, and finally made it home.

Nick was there. "I brought you guys some strawberries," I said. "Aww sweet, I fucking LOVE strawberries!" he responded, and that made me happy. Later I was lounging about Jessie's room upstairs doing hoodrat things on the internet when Nick asked from downstairs if I was bored. He was going to the skate park and wanted to know if I wanted a ride to hang out there or to explore downtown Victoria. I was doubledogdown for seeing this city that I plan on living in some day, so I promptly took him up on that offer.

I stepped into his beat up, low-riding, two-door, little red car. The windshield was mostly shattered on the passenger's side. We made a pitstop at a bar where I'd meet his mother, his brother, and his best friend. They all knew me before I got there since I'd stayed with his aunt Jenette in Nanaimo. His mom asked me to go get a glass for myself at the bar and have some of their pitcher of beer. I said "ummm," and a few minutes later she said she'd just go and grab me a glass herself. She poured me a beer, but with "a brief stop at the bar to see my mom and then we'll go" in mind, I pounded it back fast. "She's a fast drinker for a girl from Ontario!" she said, and promptly poured me another. Well, shit. I pounded that one back, too.

I walked with Cory and Nick to the skate park then went on my own merry way in search of a good Value Village that was apparently in the area. I got lost again but at the very least I saw Chinatown, which is the oldest Chinatown in Canada, don'tchaknow. I sat on a bench and Nick happened to be driving by, so after dropping his parents off somewheres he picked me up. Jordon asked me if I wanted to party with them - the guys, not his parents - and I said yes, and he said really, and I said yes, so we arranged that yes, I would do some partying with them. We went back to Langford where I grabbed my contact solution with its case and my back pack, followed up by putting on my gramma's famous white flower dress. I was ready to go clubbing.

I met the dudes and dudette at the Jordan and Cory residence and felt I was in good company. Some of that familiar beer drinking and cigarette smoking took place on a backyard patio over introductions and more talk of this blog I was writing. After that, we hopped into taxis and headed toward a karaoke bar called Sopranos.

The bar was big, complete with a stage, a mic and a DJ in the back. There was a dance floor too that was occasionally crowded with tipsy and drunken dancers, myself and the guys included. I had one pint and stopped there, but the others didn't. The normally bromancing BFFers, Nick and Cory, ended up fighting in the parking lot. Cory kicked him in the hip and Nick responded by punching him in the face. People were commenting, some walking by and taunting, but no effort was made to break them up. Let the fight run it's course. Someone said, "Hey look, those two are making out" and pointed to a pick-up truck to my right. I watched the kissing couple for a while instead of watching two friends fight. I watched the woman's head disappear from beyond the dashboard, her bleach-blonde hair occasionally bopping into view. The man sat in the passenger seat looking mildly amused. I was laughing, but the peepshow got boring and I turned my attention back to the brawl on the pavement. They were still down there, wrapped lovingly like UFC fighters in each others limbs saying, "Let go of me. Let go of me!" Jordon and I got into a taxi, and Nick and Cory slowly followed.

Midway through the ride Cory decided he didn't like the taxi driver so he opened his door to get out. The car was still moving. Many "whoa whoa whoa WHOA WHOA whoa Cory"s later and the taxi was stopped, Cory running out of the car and Nick following close behind. Before he stepped out to get his BFF, Nick graciously paid the driver $14 which covered the rest of our journey. When we started moving again I noticed he'd also dropped some change onto the seat. "Give it to me," the driver said. "No," I responded, "it's not yours." "If anyone should have it," Jordan said, "it should be me. My brother dropped it. Family first." I gave him the change. The mood was tense but still semi-lighthearted. Jordan was sitting in the front seat and him and the driver had some words. He asked to be let out. The meter was at $13.25. "You owe me money!" the driver said. "I saw him pay $14.00! We don't owe you anything!" I said. "What would you know? It's dark in here," spoken with a dismissive laugh. I never in all my taxi-taking years have dealt with such a shiester! As we stepped out of the car Jordan grabbed a handful of gravel from the road and tossed it over his shoulder onto the car's back windshield. We continued walking away as the driver stepped out to investigate the damage, yelling we were lucky that the window wasn't broken.

I slept in close quarters on a futon with Nick, while Cory and Jordan passed out on a couch behind us. I shared my pillow with Cory's feet but that was okay because they didn't smell and my head doesn't take up much space. He was still in rough shape in the morning, and the entire day really, the probable victim of alcohol poisoning. We lounged around for a long time before deciding to dine at the always upscale Denny's franchise. I ate a veggie burger and hush brown cubes - my first meal ever at Denny's and my first real meal in two days. The day before I had that apple, and that croissant, and also five strawberries. The rest was beer. Filling, filling, beer. Not bear. Beer.

Although I greatly enjoyed their company, I didn't want to overstay my welcome. I decided to take the ferry back to Vancouver that evening, the only problem being that I could not get a hold of the couple I planned to stay with for my last couple of days in the city. I got to the ferry around 7:30 where I found out that the next departure was at 9:00, meaning I'd arrive in Vancouver at 10:30. From the Tsawwassen ferry terminal it would take me another hour-and-a-half to get to my destination, a basement apartment on Dundas Street. I stood there for about a minute before calling Jen to see if I could spend the night. I didn't want to be in Vancouver at midnight without a place to stay, inevitably having to pay for a hotel room. I'm accustomed to the couch surfing lifestyle now, I don't PAY for accommodation, not with money anyway. I pay by exchanging hugs, telling stories, helping create meals... so back on the bus I went, back to Jen and her beautiful home and beautiful garden, beautiful cooking and beautiful her. It was a wise decision.

I realized later the next day that I'd left my beloved steel-toe Dox in Jessie's room, a loss that inspired a slightly manic panic attack. I've left something behind at almost every place I've been, unintentionally. I left my conductor's hat at Jenette's, my shampoo at Jen's, and now my boots at Jessie's. Durr. I eventually got a hold of him and after a failed attempt to go pick it up with Jen, he said he'd mail them to me. Yay! Great success. My boots will get to travel a bit more without me.

So I arrived in Vancouver last night, taking the 9:00 PM ferry from Victoria. I got into downtown at midnight, taking the #16 bus to East Hastings. Oh, crap... East Hastings, I thought. The one place to avoid at night! East Hastings is fine during the day when the junkies are shootin' up under the supervision of the police department, but at night! Midnight on a Sunday night! They were like zombies shaking their limbs about, going through BRAIIIIINS-withdrawals. It was awful. I hated being on that bus for that stretch of Hastings. Luckily Leah and Adrien live a bit away from the super sketchmo area that is the crackhead village and I arrived safe and sound. I was shown my room and went to bed.

Now it's the second last day of my stay in Vancouver! I hop back onto the train tomorrow and will arrive in T-Dot on June 26th. I reckon I'll stick around a week or two, get myself settled, then head back on the tracks again for the next installment in my summer of xCanadax goodness: the Maritimes! Woo!