Friday, February 08, 2008

Globetrotting again



I am staying with a friend in the Yaletown part of downtown Vancouver. It is a sea of skyscrapers - my friend is on the 18th floor of one which has televisions in the elevators and its own gym. His entire apartment is the size of my living room, however. Still, it's very nice, and the area is full of trendy furniture shops, Starbucks etc. There are also a lot of dogs, especially single women in their 20s and 30s walking around with baby substitutes cute little dogs. There's even a shop that caters for them, called Barking Babies. It's lovely, but I do wonder what will happen to all these little dogs when Carolyn or Madison or whatever their names are decide to take the plunge and have a real baby. At least I acknowledge my cat is a baby substitute, and unless my fella grows a womb, that's all we're having.

My flight here was particularly nightmarish - 26 hours without sleep. I almost missed my flight to Chicago as I left my laptop on the train from Lancaster to Manchester airport and had to retrace my steps to lost and found to retrieve it. Then the plane was delayed landing in Chicago and as a result I had 15 minutes to transfer to another plane. I never understand why you have to go through customs and immigration and pick up your luggage at Chicago, even if you're only transferring to another flight outside the U.S. - they still take your fingerprints and bark orders at you - I've travelled through a lot of places and can confirm that American immigration is the most humourless and rude in all the world (I'm sure they've be pleased). Fortunately (or not), my flight to Vancouver was cancelled due to the snow so I had to wait another 5 hours for a later flight. And then that was delayed another 2 hours as the pilot was delayed on another flight and then the plane had to be de-iced which took another hour. I finally got into Vancouver at 1 in the morning, rather than 5 in the afternoon as planned, not feeling in the best of moods.

We are travelling up to somewhere called Whistler for the weekend, which is a well-known ski resort. It is also, by complete co-incidence, Whistler's gay week or something like that. It sounds ghastly anyway. I am going to be very careful on the slopes - last time I tried skiing, I cracked my thorax or sternum or something as I forgot how you stop. So it's the baby slopes for me this time.

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