If any of you have ever seen Steve Martin and John Candy in the movie Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, then you know exactly how my second trip to Canada went...not well. Well, that's not necessarily true. While I was there, in the company of good friends, everything was perfect, including the weather. It was just getting there and back when things didn't go just so. And, just in case you're wondering, I did not attempt to commit suicide nor did anyone I know. At least I don't think I knew that person. Anyway, back to my travels...
A week ago last Monday, (is that seriously possible? like 8 days ago? - whew! they weren't kidding...time does fly when you're having fun.) I took my first America-originated train ride from Bellingham, Washington, to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Now, I've traveled on my fair share of trains but things are apparently a lot different in Europe. For example, they (the little people who take your tickets, I'm going to call them ticketmen) speak English. Now, I'm sure you're thinking I'm off my rocker because, after all, I speak English. But in this case, they speak a different type of English; I call it Traglish. That's short for Train English. If the first two ticketmen I came across hadn't been pointing in the direction they wanted me to hustle, I would have just as soon though they were asking me whether or not I preferred liver over duck.
I finally made it to the second level of the train when the next ticketman asked me if I was a "one". I looked at him and said, "I have absolutely no idea." Then, he looked at me like "are you for real?" I'm starting to get hot and scanning, scanning, scanning my train ticket trying to figure out what a "one" is. Am I in car one? Am I row one? Am I number one? Ahhh!!! Yes! I am a "one". By this point, (which was only a second I'm sure, that seemed like an eternity on a 150,000 degree planet for me) he had decided I was a rather stupid "one". Well, maybe, but if he'd had used proper English and asked me "Are you traveling by yourself today?" I would have appropriately and very intelligently answered, "Yes, I am." But, no. Traglish makes things all confusing and to make matters worse, they don't publish a dictionary. So, my advice is to just smile a lot and nod your head and stay on the lookout for pointing fingers.
After a short two hour ride up the coast to Vancouver, I waited in line for immigration officials to let me in to the country. I didn't think this would be a big deal since I'd just been there three days earlier. Well, after playing not 20 but 40 questions with the Canadian immigration official, he finally let me in the country. Apparently I look suspicious. I'm sure the next person in line was enjoying our comedy routine (if they weren't in a hurry that is) because it was pretty comical. At first I thought it was kind of fun but then I started thinking "if he's going to ask me this many questions we're gonna have to be on a date." There were all kinds of off the wall questions. My friend Tiffany and her son Wyatt could see me and were amazed at the amount of time it took for me to get through my interrogation. I thought at one point I was going to have to go fetch her just to prove her existence. I think it's one of those things where you just had to be there, so I'll keep moving.
Now is probably a good time for me to introduce you to my new boyfriend, Wyatt. He's five, well, five and a half. He's tall for his age. Very sharp. Doesn't like team sports which really bums out his mom but she's doing a good job of not living vicariously through him. He enjoys ice skating, swimming lessons, and is really into Star Wars movies. And from the first moment we met he said "I love you Kay Beth". And Tom Cruise had Renee Zellweger "at hello". Ha!
Tiffany, Wyatt, and I had a great time cruising around Vancouver taking in all the sights. We went to Stanley Park and walked the seawall while looking at all the nutty people in the freezing cold water. Tiffany and I also noticed that almost everyone on the beach had at least one tattoo. They're pretty popular. I was thinking of getting one but I'm a little too non-committal and not really into self-inflicted pain and those are two prerequisites I'm pretty sure. We also went to Cypress Mountain where we could see all of Vancouver including the beach across the bay where we had just been.
I didn't have a whole lot of time to spend in Vancouver with Tiffany, Trevor, and Wyatt but we definitely made the most of it. Some things never change and although people tell me I still
look the same as I did in college, Tiffany has to have me beat. The only difference between then and now is that she doesn't wear near as much black and she's got bangs. And well, she's a mom. That's definitely a change but you wouldn't be able to tell from looking at her, she looks great!
After going to swimming lessons and a nice lunch, Tiffany and Wyatt dropped me off at the Skytrain station so I could head back to the Waterfront in Vancouver. While waiting on the train I took the SeaBus to North Vancouver to go the the Market and wandered around there for a bit. Then while waiting for the return SeaBus I noticed a sign. It asked "Tell me, what is it that you plan to do with this one wild and precious life?" That's a good question. I'm not sure what my long-term answer is but I can tell you that I'm definitely pondering it.
The train ride back to Bellingham was a rather enjoyable one and much less stressful since I knew I was a "one", although no one bothered to ask me this time. Then, just as we were getting close to the border, the train came to a screeching halt. We weren't going that fast so don't be envisioning bodies flying around in the car and people screaming. It was more of a slow stop but with screeching noises. We sat there for a few minutes and since I was sitting next to the window, I had my cheek plastered to it trying to see what was happening up ahead. I finally leaned back when I saw smoke billowing out, thinking that we must be having engine problems. So, like any good traveler, I decided to head to the refreshment car to get a drink. Then like any fine American, I decided I was hungry too, and ordered something to eat.
Instead of going back to my seat I decided to stay in that car and eat my meal. I mentioned something about the train being stopped to the guy sitting across from me and he said "Yeah. We hit a guy." My first thought was "you shouldn't say stuff like that when you don't know it's true." Mind you, it was a thought, so I said "I'm sure you wouldn't joke about that but are you serious?" And when he said that he was I was thinking "What???" Then, the girl in front of me said, "Yeah, you can see them working on the guy right there." And sure enough, I could see one of the trainmen (he wasn't a ticketman) down in the rocks between the track and the ocean working on someone.
While the trainman worked to save the guy who had purposely stepped onto the tracks waiting for the train, we went up and down the track. Why? I'm still not sure. At one point, the car I was in went right past the guy. Sure enough, there he was. He had been thrown 15-20 feet from the tracks and landed on some big boulders. He had a gash on his head which was bleeding through the makeshift t-shirt bandage on his head and had another gash across his chest. He did appear to be alert and talking to the trainman who was still working on him while waiting for the paramedics to arrive.
Two hours later, we were on our way again. The apparent suicide attemptee had been taken to the hospital to be worked on and the investigators had completed their investigation. And, we finally had a new crew to relieve the ones who were working when we hit the man. I got to talk to the trainman who had worked on the man and asked how the conductor was doing. Even when something isn't your fault, I'd think he'd feel partially to blame even though there probably wasn't anything he could do to avoid the guy. He said that the conductor who was driving is very experienced with 34 years. I asked if that meant he had hit someone before but he declined to answer but did say that it happens frequently.
Now, you might at this point think I'm a little flippant about the entire situation but that's not true. I know that even though the guy on the tracks was alive when we left that that doesn't mean that he won't die due to internal injuries received...he was hit by a train after all. And, if he does live, he needs a lot of help. His family is also going to need a lot of help, regardless of the outcome. While we sat there, I wondered what had to have happened in his life for him to think this is the only way to deal with the situation. Life isn't always peachy but there is one person I've learned over the years who I can always go to and that is God. So, if you don't mind, please say a pray for this man and his family. They all need our help.
The last of my time in Bellingham was much slower than the fast-paced, first few days. Liz, Evan, and Angela, Quinn, and I enjoyed our bike ride to Fairhaven the next day. And on Thursday, after spending the day at the Pike Place Market in Seattle where I picked up some fresh salmon and shrimp for Jeremy's birthday party that weekend, I headed to the airport to fly back to Denver.
I'm really starting to like that place. Colorado, that is. Every time I drive by Frisco, it's like the little town is calling my name..."Kay Beth, Kay Beth". It sounds a little spooky but it's a nice voice. I drove by there twice this weekend on the way to and from Eagle where I spent the weekend enjoying more good conversations, a day at the spa in Glenwood Springs, and church with Jeremy on Sunday.
Where am I now? Well, I'm actually in my bed, my very own bed, in my very own little cabin on the lake in Adair, Oklahoma. I started driving yesterday evening (after a wonderful dinner with Julie in Denver) but ended up getting stopped just shy of the Kansas border because of a thunderstorm that was dumping enough rain to make it nearly impossible to drive. To top off my trip, I stopped back by my friend Marvin's bank to see him again. We chatted for a few minutes then both of us hit the road.
It won't be long and I'll be out of here again. This time? Banking school in Madison, Wisconsin. I'm not sure that there will be much interesting (okay, maybe publishable, if that's even a word) stuff going on but if you wait about a month and a half...say around the middle of September, you'll be able to check in on me as I head to South America to learn Spanish, master salsa moves, take some cooking classes, learn how to meditate and do yoga, and, but of course...more travels!!!
Until then...
A week ago last Monday, (is that seriously possible? like 8 days ago? - whew! they weren't kidding...time does fly when you're having fun.) I took my first America-originated train ride from Bellingham, Washington, to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Now, I've traveled on my fair share of trains but things are apparently a lot different in Europe. For example, they (the little people who take your tickets, I'm going to call them ticketmen) speak English. Now, I'm sure you're thinking I'm off my rocker because, after all, I speak English. But in this case, they speak a different type of English; I call it Traglish. That's short for Train English. If the first two ticketmen I came across hadn't been pointing in the direction they wanted me to hustle, I would have just as soon though they were asking me whether or not I preferred liver over duck.
I finally made it to the second level of the train when the next ticketman asked me if I was a "one". I looked at him and said, "I have absolutely no idea." Then, he looked at me like "are you for real?" I'm starting to get hot and scanning, scanning, scanning my train ticket trying to figure out what a "one" is. Am I in car one? Am I row one? Am I number one? Ahhh!!! Yes! I am a "one". By this point, (which was only a second I'm sure, that seemed like an eternity on a 150,000 degree planet for me) he had decided I was a rather stupid "one". Well, maybe, but if he'd had used proper English and asked me "Are you traveling by yourself today?" I would have appropriately and very intelligently answered, "Yes, I am." But, no. Traglish makes things all confusing and to make matters worse, they don't publish a dictionary. So, my advice is to just smile a lot and nod your head and stay on the lookout for pointing fingers.
After a short two hour ride up the coast to Vancouver, I waited in line for immigration officials to let me in to the country. I didn't think this would be a big deal since I'd just been there three days earlier. Well, after playing not 20 but 40 questions with the Canadian immigration official, he finally let me in the country. Apparently I look suspicious. I'm sure the next person in line was enjoying our comedy routine (if they weren't in a hurry that is) because it was pretty comical. At first I thought it was kind of fun but then I started thinking "if he's going to ask me this many questions we're gonna have to be on a date." There were all kinds of off the wall questions. My friend Tiffany and her son Wyatt could see me and were amazed at the amount of time it took for me to get through my interrogation. I thought at one point I was going to have to go fetch her just to prove her existence. I think it's one of those things where you just had to be there, so I'll keep moving.
Now is probably a good time for me to introduce you to my new boyfriend, Wyatt. He's five, well, five and a half. He's tall for his age. Very sharp. Doesn't like team sports which really bums out his mom but she's doing a good job of not living vicariously through him. He enjoys ice skating, swimming lessons, and is really into Star Wars movies. And from the first moment we met he said "I love you Kay Beth". And Tom Cruise had Renee Zellweger "at hello". Ha!
Tiffany, Wyatt, and I had a great time cruising around Vancouver taking in all the sights. We went to Stanley Park and walked the seawall while looking at all the nutty people in the freezing cold water. Tiffany and I also noticed that almost everyone on the beach had at least one tattoo. They're pretty popular. I was thinking of getting one but I'm a little too non-committal and not really into self-inflicted pain and those are two prerequisites I'm pretty sure. We also went to Cypress Mountain where we could see all of Vancouver including the beach across the bay where we had just been.I didn't have a whole lot of time to spend in Vancouver with Tiffany, Trevor, and Wyatt but we definitely made the most of it. Some things never change and although people tell me I still
look the same as I did in college, Tiffany has to have me beat. The only difference between then and now is that she doesn't wear near as much black and she's got bangs. And well, she's a mom. That's definitely a change but you wouldn't be able to tell from looking at her, she looks great!After going to swimming lessons and a nice lunch, Tiffany and Wyatt dropped me off at the Skytrain station so I could head back to the Waterfront in Vancouver. While waiting on the train I took the SeaBus to North Vancouver to go the the Market and wandered around there for a bit. Then while waiting for the return SeaBus I noticed a sign. It asked "Tell me, what is it that you plan to do with this one wild and precious life?" That's a good question. I'm not sure what my long-term answer is but I can tell you that I'm definitely pondering it.
The train ride back to Bellingham was a rather enjoyable one and much less stressful since I knew I was a "one", although no one bothered to ask me this time. Then, just as we were getting close to the border, the train came to a screeching halt. We weren't going that fast so don't be envisioning bodies flying around in the car and people screaming. It was more of a slow stop but with screeching noises. We sat there for a few minutes and since I was sitting next to the window, I had my cheek plastered to it trying to see what was happening up ahead. I finally leaned back when I saw smoke billowing out, thinking that we must be having engine problems. So, like any good traveler, I decided to head to the refreshment car to get a drink. Then like any fine American, I decided I was hungry too, and ordered something to eat.
Instead of going back to my seat I decided to stay in that car and eat my meal. I mentioned something about the train being stopped to the guy sitting across from me and he said "Yeah. We hit a guy." My first thought was "you shouldn't say stuff like that when you don't know it's true." Mind you, it was a thought, so I said "I'm sure you wouldn't joke about that but are you serious?" And when he said that he was I was thinking "What???" Then, the girl in front of me said, "Yeah, you can see them working on the guy right there." And sure enough, I could see one of the trainmen (he wasn't a ticketman) down in the rocks between the track and the ocean working on someone.
While the trainman worked to save the guy who had purposely stepped onto the tracks waiting for the train, we went up and down the track. Why? I'm still not sure. At one point, the car I was in went right past the guy. Sure enough, there he was. He had been thrown 15-20 feet from the tracks and landed on some big boulders. He had a gash on his head which was bleeding through the makeshift t-shirt bandage on his head and had another gash across his chest. He did appear to be alert and talking to the trainman who was still working on him while waiting for the paramedics to arrive.
Two hours later, we were on our way again. The apparent suicide attemptee had been taken to the hospital to be worked on and the investigators had completed their investigation. And, we finally had a new crew to relieve the ones who were working when we hit the man. I got to talk to the trainman who had worked on the man and asked how the conductor was doing. Even when something isn't your fault, I'd think he'd feel partially to blame even though there probably wasn't anything he could do to avoid the guy. He said that the conductor who was driving is very experienced with 34 years. I asked if that meant he had hit someone before but he declined to answer but did say that it happens frequently.
Now, you might at this point think I'm a little flippant about the entire situation but that's not true. I know that even though the guy on the tracks was alive when we left that that doesn't mean that he won't die due to internal injuries received...he was hit by a train after all. And, if he does live, he needs a lot of help. His family is also going to need a lot of help, regardless of the outcome. While we sat there, I wondered what had to have happened in his life for him to think this is the only way to deal with the situation. Life isn't always peachy but there is one person I've learned over the years who I can always go to and that is God. So, if you don't mind, please say a pray for this man and his family. They all need our help.
The last of my time in Bellingham was much slower than the fast-paced, first few days. Liz, Evan, and Angela, Quinn, and I enjoyed our bike ride to Fairhaven the next day. And on Thursday, after spending the day at the Pike Place Market in Seattle where I picked up some fresh salmon and shrimp for Jeremy's birthday party that weekend, I headed to the airport to fly back to Denver.
I'm really starting to like that place. Colorado, that is. Every time I drive by Frisco, it's like the little town is calling my name..."Kay Beth, Kay Beth". It sounds a little spooky but it's a nice voice. I drove by there twice this weekend on the way to and from Eagle where I spent the weekend enjoying more good conversations, a day at the spa in Glenwood Springs, and church with Jeremy on Sunday.
Where am I now? Well, I'm actually in my bed, my very own bed, in my very own little cabin on the lake in Adair, Oklahoma. I started driving yesterday evening (after a wonderful dinner with Julie in Denver) but ended up getting stopped just shy of the Kansas border because of a thunderstorm that was dumping enough rain to make it nearly impossible to drive. To top off my trip, I stopped back by my friend Marvin's bank to see him again. We chatted for a few minutes then both of us hit the road.
It won't be long and I'll be out of here again. This time? Banking school in Madison, Wisconsin. I'm not sure that there will be much interesting (okay, maybe publishable, if that's even a word) stuff going on but if you wait about a month and a half...say around the middle of September, you'll be able to check in on me as I head to South America to learn Spanish, master salsa moves, take some cooking classes, learn how to meditate and do yoga, and, but of course...more travels!!!
Until then...
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