Sing another prairie tune

Ah, back to the lulling hum and gentle back-and-forth of the train. I’m on day three of my five day journey home, having had plenty of time to evaluate my west coast trip from my not-so-luxurious seat in Economy class.

Here’s a list of tips and lessons-learned as a solo traveler on the west coast:

(1) Pack light. Very light. Next time I travel, which is in about two weeks, I’m going to bring two outfits: a pair of pants, a pair of shorts, two shirts, and a sweater. And I’m not going to bring clothes I’m particularly fond of, either. I will go into a thrift store, as I am wont to do, and buy a brand new outfit, while donating a piece from my backpack collection. Every time I buy one new thing, I will donate another from my sack. I bought way too much, and brought way too much: only my favourites came with me which made parting with them next to impossible, keeping my pack unnecessarily heavy. Lesson number one learnt.

(2) Avocado oil doubles as cooking oil and as body moisturizer. It’s nutritious and delicious for your insides and your skin. After surfing in the Pacific Ocean, my skin was as parched as a 12th century criminal left in the sun to burn to death (as seen at Medieval Times, yo). I slathered on this oil, originally purchased to make the killer stir-fry concocted at our B&B in Tofino, and I was immediately soft, lubricated and ready to jump through any tight space presented to me. I also like to slather on oil and imagine I’m a Greek goddess coming out of a royal bath with sexy attendants to help get the job done. Yes, I have weird fantasies. Deal.

(3) Wear crazy clothing. In addition to buying one-of-a-kind items at thrift stores, wear stuff that’s going to get attention. Since my goal on this trip was to couch surf and strictly avoid the starchy white sheets of a hotel room double bed, talking to strangers was the best “in” to scoring a spare room bed or love seat for the evening. The only “stranger” I stayed with was Trisha (and she started the conversation by complimenting my bag), since I’d planned beforehand to stay with everyone else, using that nifty thing called the internet. But had I required a place to stay, I could have easily turned, “Hey, nice shirt!” into an offer to stay the night. People in Victoria liked my hats, my shirts, my dresses – just another indication that it’s somewhere I should spend more time.

(4) When in doubt, ask a city bus driver. I found the drivers of the number 6 Downtown bus to be knowledgeable, forthright with information when asked, and honest about their opinion, especially when the topic is food. Keith, my first couch surfing host, highly recommended I try Kadoya, a sushi restaurant on Davie. On my last day, I hopped on the bus and asked the driver if he’d heard of it – he said he had, that his brother had gone and enjoyed himself greatly. We passed by Japadogs, another highly recommended place from Raina, and I told the driver I wanted off. He said, “For what? That place?” Yes, I told him. He said it was overrated, bland, not worth the money. I told him I’d stay on then. Sorry Raina! I’ll try a Japadog next time! As for Kadoya: totally awesome. Huge portions, “exotic” vegetarian options (I didn’t try it, but the wakame roll looked tasty!), good service, and best of all, reasonable price.

Here’s another lesson learned that is common knowledge to everyone but me: when buying fresh fruits or vegetables, remember that they rot. That’s it. I forgot that food goes bad, especially without a cooler or a bag of ice handy. I bought a big bag of food for my trip so as to avoid the $20 dollar dinners and the $15 dollar breakfast and lunches. I bought apples, baby carrots, oranges, corn-on-the-cob, avocado, cashews and granola. All but the last two were a bad idea. My beloved produce was starting to smell, but I didn’t want to NOT eat it since I’d paid so much cash-money. So I held my breath and ate that corn, and really, it didn’t taste THAT bad, and I was full afterwards, so I’d say it was a job well done.

Until I looked in the toilet bowl today after the MOST burningest shit of my life. Why was my poo, yellow and liquid, like orange juice with pulp? Why I ask, did I feel like I lost a few chunks of my lower intestines? Why was I in the little unisex cubicle that is the Via Rail Economy Class washroom for almost half-an-hour? Why? Probably because yours truly was eatin’ some rotten food. So fine. I’ll spend the money and splurge on a stupid four-course meal that will probably be delicious. Fine! If only I hadn’t purchased that cute little pink vintage one-piece bathing suit from Burca’s in Vancouver, we wouldn’t be in this shithole of a mess!

Here are some more words on the Economy experience. As I’ve mentioned, I’m out of money so the prospect of paying extra to upgrade is out of the question. My mom suggested that instead of asking the ticket sellers at the station – who have no freedom when it comes to price – that I ask the service attendants on the train, because they’re more likely to be lenient about money. Well, the train had been booming out of Vancouver for about twenty minutes when a man and woman walked up to the service manager and asked for an upgrade. I listened keenly. “You’re lookin’ at at least 3-and-a-half,” the employee told him. “What, really?” the man asked. “Yup, can’t change it, unfortunately.” Three and a half being $350 extra to sleep in a bed, meals included. They decided they’d sleep in their chair for the night. Me too. I don’t mind it so much. I’ve slept about six hours a night, with a few hour-long naps during the day. I’ve carved out a home at my seat.

During my first couple hours on the train I reflected on the stuff I’d brought with me in my bag. Easily the most underused piece of material in my arsenal was a big green blanket I brought just in case I should sleep outside or stay in a place without covers. I didn’t bring it out once during my trip. As I sat there thinking about this, people started walking up to the service manager (I sit across from him so I hear all the juicy complaints), asking if they’d be handing out blankets soon. In time past, an employee would walk along the aisle and offer a passenger a complimentary blanket, pillow, eye-cover, and ear plugs. “Blankets are seven dollars,” he responded, “as of last week.” And suddenly, this formerly useless blanket served a purpose. It’s been keeping me warm ever since. (Don’t we all love happy endings? Especially the ones where everyone suffers but the really cute protagonist?)

The social scene in Economy is bland. Without the hustle and bustle of the dining car, passengers are left to their own devices to start conversations, and that’s tough. I’ve talked to a couple people, but without seeing them at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it’s just not the same. I’m hoping some real live-wired board in Winnipeg and make this train ride exciting because so far, it’s been zzzzzz.

I’m in Winnipeg now for the three-hour-long break. Gonna find some real food! See you in Toronto, my lovelies!