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The flight to Vancouver from San Diego took less than 3 hours. A few Drambuies and a light lunch helped to pass the time, and making some notes on things to do and see helped to prepare me to get the most from my visit. It was perfect flying weather, clear and calm -- like being on a lake in a sailboat. The pilot mentioned every landmark along our route, which included Yosemite’s El Capitan and Half Dome formations, Reno, Portland, Mt. St. Helens, Seattle, and finally Vancouver itself. We landed at 4:30 p.m., but stopping to change money, waiting for my luggage, missing the Airporter bus and SeaBus connections meant that I didn’t arrive at Helen’s Bed & Breakfast in North Vancouver until 6:30 p.m., almost two hours later, and nearly as long as the flight up from San Diego.

Immediately, I felt at home. The house was filled with antiques and delightful aesthetics. Helen herself was like a friendly munchkin, about 5-feet tall, and a great source of information. She showed me to my room, which was huge -- it had 7 windows, measured about 42-feet long, and had a large Ficus benjamina tree growing in one corner of the bedroom. The private bathroom was connected via a dressing area and alcove with the bedroom itself, and contained a separate tub and shower. When I saw the size of the tub I was sorry that I had left my snorkeling gear at home. It was really big! She offered me a glass of wine, and a snack which she brought up along with a set of keys, and some information on breakfast hours. Then I was left to unpack, play with the antique music box, Tiffany lamps, and porcelain statue of St. Michael. A pair of 10 x 50 binoculars rested on the night stand, for better viewing the spectacular skyline. I was just so happy!

Instead of diving into the bathtub, I hit the streets to do a little exploring and find a place to eat. Along the way towards Lonsdale and the Quay (pronounced key), I passed a film crew that had blocked off one of the major intersections and had set up reflectors and huge klieg lights. One of the onlookers told me they were shooting a major movie, a sequel to Die Hard, or something like that. I also passed Thai, Korean, Japanese, Chinese, Greek, vegetarian, and other multiethnic eateries, and peaked into an Arabic grocery store which had a big assortment of music CDs along one wall. I also did some window browsing at some of the computer stores that I passed, and asked a number of people along the way about the location of a public e-mail Internet coffee house. Everyone I spoke with thought that North Vancouver didn’t yet have such a facility, but that I could surely find one across Burrard Inlet in Vancouver itself. (That would actually prove to be a difficult quest).

Choosing a restaurant was a challenge. Each place looked inviting, but there was something particularly funky about the little hole-in-the-wall establishment called “The End.”. I knew that I had made the right choice almost as soon as I was seated, because a Sarah McLachlin CD was being played. The waiter, named Rick, came over and we got into a great discussion about music, Canadian female vocalists, and related topics. He told me that he played in a band called “Sleeve”, wrote his own music, and used the same rehearsal hall in Vancouver that Sarah practices at, though he had never met her. I asked where I could hear some good acoustic music, and he pointed to the elevated stage which was between the ceiling and the kitchen -- and told me that there are shows every night after 9 p.m., until about one in the morning. Things were falling right into place. A few glasses of wine later, along with a yummy penne pasta dish that had spinach and sun-dried tomatoes in it, the music started. The performer’s name was Sarah Ramsey, along with a guy on acoustic guitar. I was now very, very happy. Along the way I tried a Yukon Jack specialty whiskey (not as good as Drambuie, but then, nothing is), some coffee, and then a double capachino to end the night. The check came to $22, probably around $16 stateside, even with the GST and PST 14% taxes added on. I think I was approaching Nirvana at this point. Great food and drink, music, a friendly, affordable eatery to return again and again to, and other wonders yet to come. For example, it was still daylight outside, yet my watch said that it was after 10 p.m.

I lingered at The End for some more music, and then took a walking tour of the Lonsdale market, the Quay (or “Q” as it is called), and the streets above the harbor, stopping in at a Greek restaurant to look at the menu, and then headed back to my B&B for a soak in the tub. This was going to be a lot of fun!

The next day, a Sunday, I got up early, listened to the CBC’s Sunday Morning on the radio (why do they do so many stories about cod fishing?), scanned the horizon with the binoculars (it looked like rain), washed and shaved, made the bed (something that I took great delight in doing), and headed out for a walk before breakfast. The air was fragrant with the smell of roses and pine needles, combined with a bracing chill that enhanced my explorations. When I returned to the house, breakfast was waiting. Helen had whipped up some fresh papaya with a wedge of lime, bear claws, banana nut muffins, and blueberry pancakes with two kinds of maple syrup, and bacon on the side (not the Canadian variety). There was also cranberry juice, and fresh roasted coffee. Could things get any better? I seriously doubted it. I was soon joined by the other guests, a couple (Carlos and Cloris) from Brazil and their son. We exchanged e-mail addresses, and talked about traveling the world, Vancouver sights, life along the Amazon, and the Internet. I immediately saw some of the advantages of staying at a Bed & Breakfast -- great food, conversation, and camaraderie!

After breakfast, I headed for church. The night before I had stumbled upon a fundamentalist Christian church, with a sign that said that all visitors would be welcome at services the next day at 9:30 a.m. The interior of the building was very simple. There were no religious symbols, and the worshipers were seated in a square, facing each other, along two rows of benches. I was shown to a seat apart from the others, next to some kids who eyed me suspiciously. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best, suit and tie for the men, church dresses, hats and gloves for the ladies. I was in jeans and T-shirt, with my Banana Republic traveling vest that had 31-zippered pockets -- I felt a little bit out of place. The service was extremely formal, and different from anything I had ever seen or expected. They used a lot of Thou and Thee expressions, and each member seemed to arise randomly, and offer some words about Christ, daily life today, and some references to the Scriptures, followed by a hymn. The hymnal was a tiny book, printed in England. The person offering the hymn would read the first verse, then repeat the number, then everyone would sing the hymn. I didn’t recognize any of the melodies, nor the lyrics, and the tonality was very solemn and formal. After about an hour, a loaf of bread was passed around to the participants seated in the square. I was puzzled that I wasn’t offered any bread, but soon felt greatly relieved because after the bread, a large glass of wine made the rounds, and everyone sipped from the same tumbler. This I could certainly do without. Finally the service ended, and some people came over to me and we introduced ourselves. Everyone was curious about me, and I explained that I had attended Christian services elsewhere, and was here on holiday from San Diego. They invited me downstairs for refreshments, cookies, coffee, and some exotic Korean shrimp cakes. I found them all to be gracious and friendly. We talked about Disneyland, Sea World, the San Diego Zoo, and of course the Internet, which they thought was filled with dangers for their kids. I found them all to be very nice people, and was glad that I had dropped in on their service. I apologized for not being properly dressed, but was told that was of no consequence, and not to worry about it. They really seemed to like my travel vest.

Afterwards, I headed out for some touring, first stopping to buy an all-day transit pass. Since I was so close to the Presentation Gallery, I decided to look in on their exhibit. They were showing photographs by Karl Blossfeldt, an important figure in the history of photography, but one whom is seldom seen in galleries. There was also a small multimedia installation by Kathleen Knight, about a Canadian hurricane that caused a lot of damage in Eastern Canada.

Culture and spirituality aside, I headed for the SeaBus. It had started to rain, and the small red umbrella in one of the pockets of my vest came in handy. The SeaBus is a ferry that only carries passengers, and like a bus is enclosed -- there are no cars aboard, or outside deck space. It provides a great view of the harbor and the Burrard Inlet, which is quite active with moored cargo ships, and cruise liners headed for Alaska. From the Waterfront terminus, I caught the Sky Train, an automated, elevated line that heads east for about 25-miles to various outlying suburbs. There are no conductors or motormen aboard, but all the stations are announced, and everything seems to run without problems. I passed the stadium, and the Science World, getting a great orientation of the skyline and its relation to various points of interest. Finally a got off at New Westminster and looked in on various used CD stores before going to the Quay and Market, where I found a good buy on some T-shirts, and then found some great fast eats in the food court -- potato pie, Greek salad, and Philippine noodles. After eating I walked along the Fraser River, stopping by the old paddle-wheeler to listen to some jazz, and learned the names of the various bridges that crossed over down-river. Then I took the Sky Train to the last stop in Surrey, hiked around and returned to the Waterfront. From there I explored Gastown, the entertainment and dining district, and finally found the Gastown Theater on Powell Street, only to learn that their avant-garde production of Pull My Finger had closed the night before, and their next show was in rehearsal for the coming weekend. That left time for finding some post cards, more T-shirts, and discovering a great used CD store, Gastown CD’s on Water Street, where I added copies of Amanda Marshall, Mary Margaret O’Hara, Francoise Hardy, and Cecilia to my collection. Then it was back on the SeaBus to another great dinner and more music at The End. It was a good day, and I had certainly gotten my money’s worth from my transit pass!

Monday’s breakfast consisted of spinach quiche, fried potatoes, fresh fruit, and baked goodies. My new 30”-waist Levi’s still fit me, but I knew that wouldn’t last for long at this rate. Still, I could indulge some more gastronomically. The weather was beautiful, and it was a National Holiday, the 129th celebration of Canada Day. How lucky could I be, than to find myself in Vancouver for this year’s celebrations. Helen made some sightseeing suggestions, but cautioned that it would be crowded wherever I went. I decided on going to Capilano Suspension Bridge, and communing with nature and the zillions of other tourists who would be doing the same thing. At first the park was not too crowded, and I made several crossing of the 240-foot long swaying bridge, pausing to take in the magnificent views. When things began to fill up, I headed off the trails to make my own discoveries. There were beautiful things to be seen: 8-inch long green slugs, with delicate snail heads and antennae; a variety of birds, ground ferns, plants of all sorts, many with identifying signs. The place was really lovely. A folk music group was playing near the entrance, and I listened to a couple of sets. Then I explored the gift shop where Japanese tourists were throwing huge sums of cash away for designer shirts and other clothing. I bought a pair of Ralph Lauren socks, caught up in the mood, then headed up the road towards Capilano Fish Hatchery. It was much better than taking the bus, and soon I was on a trail cutting through the woods and talking to a man carrying a fishing pole. I learned that he was originally from Alberta (-40 degree winters), loved roller coasters, but had chickened out on his first bungee jump attempt. He now lived in Vancouver, and loved the place. It is hard not to fall in love with this beautiful city. We parted company near the river, where he went off to stake out his claim to a couple of coho salmon (hopefully), and I went on to view the fish ladders, holding tanks, and read all about what a fish hatchery does (hatch fish, it seems). There were lots of Japanese tourists, but only a very tiny gift shop selling books and postcards. It was time for a frozen ice cream treat, rainbow ices. Then I hitched a ride in a Toyota van from a Vancouver family originally from Hong Kong, who drove me up the steep hill to the main road. We talked about how tolerant and peaceful a city Vancouver is -- a true melting pot, where everyone gets along so well, while still keeping hold of their cultural heritage and identities; a melting pot without the meltdown!

Back on the highway, I caught the next bus to the top of Grouse Mountain. An aerial cable car, built reassuringly by the Swiss, took me to the summit, where my fancy was captured by a waiting helicopter that offered tours of the mountain scenery. I bought my ticket, and was told to return in 30 minutes, just enough time for a beer and snack at the outdoor restaurant, sharing a table with a couple from Atlanta who were in town for a wedding. When I returned to the heliport, I learned that the longer flight which looped around Devil’s Gate and Ghost Lake couldn’t attract enough passengers, so I decided to take the shorter trip. The couple who joined me were from Naples, Florida, but like me, both hailed originally from Brooklyn! We had lots to talk about while we were waiting for our flight. The flight was magnificent, visibility endless, and the sights truly breathtaking. The only flaw was that the helicopter company managed to lose my luggage (something hard to do, since I didn’t have any checked baggage to begin with); I think they may have sent it to Newark, by mistake. :)

Then it was back down the mountain via the aerial car, and by bus back into town, where I realized that I was exhausted. So it was back home to the B&B for a nap. These afternoon naps did wonders to recharge my batteries. That evening I decided to try Pasparos Taverna, a Greek restaurant on 3rd Street in North Vancouver that I had scouted two days earlier. I was seated in the enclosed patio, beneath some slowly turning fans. Dinner consisted of a few glasses of wine, grilled halibut with Greek salad, fried potatoes and vegetables. It was very tasty. A cup of Greek coffee, naturally, topped off the meal. Afterwards, I headed down to the Quay to watch the fireworks, buying a strawberry/banana frozen yogurt treat, and finding a seat on the steps overlooking the harbor. The man and his girlfriend that I was sitting next to were from Alberta. They also had relocated recently to Vancouver. We talked about the advantages of living in North Vancouver -- less traffic, quieter, safer, more peaceful, the effects of -40 degree winter weather on the psyche and on automobiles, and other topics as well. I found that Canadians were very friendly and easy to talk to. Then the fireworks started. They lasted for about 40 minutes, and were spectacular -- a great finish to a great day. I went back to my room, soaked in the tub, which could double in a pinch as a swimming pool, and climbed into bed with all the windows opened and the shades raised. The CBC was playing classical music, but I was asleep before I could turn off the radio.

Tuesday started off very sunny. I took a long, long walk around the neighborhood, stopping at the McNeigh House, built by a lumber baron at the turn of the century, and restored to its former elegance by a local building developer. It has beautiful gardens, paths which traverse it, and several small gazebos scattered throughout. When I returned to Helen’s, I met the new guests that had moved in the night before. They were Chris and Denise, an attractive couple from Yakima, WA, and Denise’s father Lee and his friend Judy from Ohio. We exchanged e-mail addresses, and talked about what to do and see in the area. Breakfast consisted of fresh strawberry waffles, fruit salad, pastries, juice and coffee. I was eating like a pig and enjoying it immensely. I was also beginning to look immense as well. Helen gave me directions for getting to Marks and Spencer, a branch of the famous London retailer, in the Park Royal shopping mall, which is located in North Vancouver beneath the Lion’s Gate Bridge.

I took a bus from Lonsdale Quay to the Park Royal Mall, which is quite a large complex, and finally found the department store, which was tucked away in one of the corners. Although I had only ventured forth in quest of chocolate covered digestive biscuits, my will power crumbled, and I ended up buying a beautiful dress shirt without collar, and a bottle of aroma therapy bubble bath. My mass consuming accomplished, and my pockets bulging with Visa card receipts, I headed back into town, stopping first at the old B&B to drop off my packages. Then I hiked over to the SeaBus terminal, stopping at the Post Office to mail my postcards. Two surprises awaited me. The Post Office had no stamps, only metered mail stickers; and, one is charged GST taxes (Goods and Services Tax) for postage! Canada is really amazing with its layers upon layers of taxes. Then I decided to grab a bite to eat, stopping at a vegetarian health food store and buffet which was right on the way to the SeaBus. The buffet was by weight, and there was a big assortment of tempting dishes to be added to my plate.

After lunch at the Quay, I inquired about concert tickets, and was directed to the TicketMaster booth. I told the attendant about my preferences for Canadian female vocalists, but the only musician in town that night was Harry Belafonte. However, there were a couple of musical shows playing -- Miss Saigon and Showboat. I opted for the former, and felt lucky to get a ticket, even though it set me back $88. The SeaBus was pulling away just as I got to the terminal. That’s how I met Kathleen. She had also just missed the connection, and we struck up a conversation when I offered her a Swedish Lackerol eucalyptus mint. She was from Edmonton. Do all Canadians who I meet in Vancouver originally come from Alberta? It was beginning to seem that way! We talked about a lot of things on the boat crossing, and decided to stop for a Starbucks frappachino inside the Waterfront station. I mentioned that I was planning to see Miss Saigon that evening, and wondered if she would be interested in joining me. She was! We found another TicketMaster, and they got her a seat close to mine, but my hunch was that we would be able to sit together. We agreed to meet at the Queen Elizabeth Theater at 7:45 p.m.

It was getting late in the afternoon, but I decided to push on with seeing some more sights, so I headed to Science World. I wanted to see a special 3-D laser movie that was playing there called The Illustrated Brain. While waiting for the movie to begin, I explored some of the computer exhibits. Soon, I discovered that I could easily spend several days wandering around here. This was easily the best science museum that I had ever visited, with the Exploratorium in San Francisco coming in a distant second. The movie was a lot of fun, and the visual effects striking. Outside, as I was leaving, someone was calling my name. It was Chris, Denise, Lee and Judy, the other guests at the B&B! We rode back together on the Sky Train comparing our experiences about Vancouver that day. I got back to my room just as it started to rain heavily, and had barely enough time to change in order to arrive at the theater in time. Kathleen spotted me, and we went inside to find our seats. A very kind woman offered to swap seats with Kathleen so that we could sit together, just as I had guessed would happen.

The show was very dramatic and beautifully staged, operatic in its origins, and unlike any musical that I had ever seen before. There were no show tunes to hum afterwards. A glass of wine for Kathleen and a Drambuie for me during intermission was our only sustenance. Would we starve? Doubtful, I thought! After the show, Kathleen, who drove to Vancouver in her mini-van and had found parking nearby, offered to drive me back to North Vancouver, if I would help her navigate. Almost by magic, we found our way, and I suggested a late dinner or drink at The End, where we were greeted like regulars. Over Drambuies and pasta (for me) we talked about the meaning of life. It WAS a lovely day!

I didn’t get back to my room until very late, and opted to skip the bubble bath, a good decision because I fell asleep almost the instant that my head touched the pillow. In the morning, I said good-byes to everyone at breakfast. Denise and Chris were driving back to Yakima later that day, and I was grateful that I had a late flight and could do some more sightseeing. Breakfast consisted of a seafood omelet with a lobster bisque sauce, fresh fruit salad, muffins, toast, fries, etc. I had long since abandoned calorie counting, and had eyed the scale in my bathroom with disdain. I gave Helen a small bottle of Drambuie as a parting gift, and the remnants of my high fiber non-fat crackers. Our good-byes were warm and heartfelt. I promised I would return. She promised me a 10% discount in the future. We chatted for awhile, and then it was time to leave. I bussed for the last time to the Quay, took the now familiar SeaBus, checked my bag at the cruise ship terminal near the Pan Pacific Hotel, and took the Sky Train to Granville, where I browsed for used CDs, and had a late lunch at the Bulldog, a Dutch restaurant on Nelson Street, which consisted of a mango chicken salad sandwich, fries, and honey pale ale beer. It was yummy.

The ride to the airport was through heavy traffic, with endless stops to drop off and pick up passengers. I was glad that I had decided to allow myself ample time. Getting to the gate was something of a maze -- first to the ticket counter, then the tax and duty free store, U.S. immigration, U.S. Customs, YVR Airport Improvement Fee Counter ($10, please), security check (beep, beep, beep -- please empty all of your pockets), and finally the gate area where I treated myself to a Starbucks giant mocha frappachino, and read the Globe and Mail financial pages until my flight was ready to board. Alaska Airlines served a decent dinner -- hot chicken filet sandwich with melted cheese on a Kaiser roll, 5-bean salad, maple-nut cookie, mints, coffee, several bags of oat-bran pretzels, and of course some tiny bottles of Drambuie and Grand Mariner for dessert. It was a mini-vacation to long remember. I love Canada, Canadians, Vancouver, and Drambuie -- approximately in that order.