Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
LA: Day One
A bus waiting just for me, a remarkably easy passage through security and a delayed plane conspired to ensure I was waiting at San Francisco airport for quite a while. But eventually the plane made it, and I arrived in LA.
After a few minutes of panic, I found Megan (or, more accurately, she found me) and we found the shuttle to our hotel.
THAT was an experience.
We hopped in the back, and we busy chatted away, catching up and all that. A very tall man sat down in the front passenger seat, and boisterously announced that he was in the army. Twice.
Anyway, we got to Anaheim, all safe and well, and hopped out in front of the "Anaheim Camelot Inn". So did the army guy. We both were slightly surprised by this, as he really didn't seem like the Anaheim Camelot Inn type. When we were paying our fares to the driver, we discovered he wasn't.
The Army guy exploded at the driver. "I did not," he yelled. "Survive two combat tours to die at the hands of dangerous driving in a shuttle. You, sir, are a dangerous driver."
We paid our fares, didn't worry about the change, and snuck away, because it was becomming difficult to contain our laughter.
After checking in, we explored the shops and cafes of downtown Disney for a while, before deciding to see a movie. The next starting was I am Legend, which we both thought was a actiton/adventure/drama type movie about life after the apocalypse. Standard Will Smith fare.
How wrong we were.
It turns out it's about a virus that killed 90% of humans. 5% were immune, but the remaining 5% became mutated, lost all pigment (so they can't come out in the day and are a scary white colour) and began FEASTING ON THE REMAINING HUMANS. Will Smith, of course, is the army dude who can save the day, but is slowly going mad living alone in Manhatten with his dog.
I have never watched less of a movie. I spent probably 85% of the film with my hands over my eyes.
After dinner, we went back to the movies to watch something sweet and endeering (Enchanted) in a futile attempt to forget what we had seen.
Oooh, sorry, Disneyland time... I shall fill you in on Disneyland Day One and Two tonight. Stay tuned, because we saw someone famous. Hint: he's in a Drew Barrymore movie and his wife is way more famous than he... Any guesses?
After a few minutes of panic, I found Megan (or, more accurately, she found me) and we found the shuttle to our hotel.
THAT was an experience.
We hopped in the back, and we busy chatted away, catching up and all that. A very tall man sat down in the front passenger seat, and boisterously announced that he was in the army. Twice.
Anyway, we got to Anaheim, all safe and well, and hopped out in front of the "Anaheim Camelot Inn". So did the army guy. We both were slightly surprised by this, as he really didn't seem like the Anaheim Camelot Inn type. When we were paying our fares to the driver, we discovered he wasn't.
The Army guy exploded at the driver. "I did not," he yelled. "Survive two combat tours to die at the hands of dangerous driving in a shuttle. You, sir, are a dangerous driver."
We paid our fares, didn't worry about the change, and snuck away, because it was becomming difficult to contain our laughter.
After checking in, we explored the shops and cafes of downtown Disney for a while, before deciding to see a movie. The next starting was I am Legend, which we both thought was a actiton/adventure/drama type movie about life after the apocalypse. Standard Will Smith fare.
How wrong we were.
It turns out it's about a virus that killed 90% of humans. 5% were immune, but the remaining 5% became mutated, lost all pigment (so they can't come out in the day and are a scary white colour) and began FEASTING ON THE REMAINING HUMANS. Will Smith, of course, is the army dude who can save the day, but is slowly going mad living alone in Manhatten with his dog.
I have never watched less of a movie. I spent probably 85% of the film with my hands over my eyes.
After dinner, we went back to the movies to watch something sweet and endeering (Enchanted) in a futile attempt to forget what we had seen.
Oooh, sorry, Disneyland time... I shall fill you in on Disneyland Day One and Two tonight. Stay tuned, because we saw someone famous. Hint: he's in a Drew Barrymore movie and his wife is way more famous than he... Any guesses?
Monday, December 17, 2007
Ten Things I Learned in San Fran
10. There are American bogans too. Not rednecks, but true, Aussie-style bogans.
9. Beggars with iPods apparently see no hypocrisy in asking you for money then calling you greedy when you refuse to give them any cash. I'm sorry, but my charitable donations are exclusively for people without iPods... it's a personal policy.
8. Always look at the sign on the tram, or you may wind up going in the wrong direction.
7. Despite my fervent passion for it, I had no clue of the sheer number of Saltwater Taffy varieties available.
6. BART is a transportation system as well as a Simpson, and it smells.
5. Leaving one's toiletries bag in one's bathroom at home: bad.
4. Being able to find a LUSH in San Fran to buy replacements: good.
3. I did not bring enough jumpers.
2. San Francisco has a higher quotient of bums and weirdos than any other city I've been to.
and, drum roll please......
1. There is a difference between San Fran Trolleys and Cable Cars... Trolleys are like trams, they run on electricity, while cable cars are just that- cars pulled by an underground (I think) cable.
9. Beggars with iPods apparently see no hypocrisy in asking you for money then calling you greedy when you refuse to give them any cash. I'm sorry, but my charitable donations are exclusively for people without iPods... it's a personal policy.
8. Always look at the sign on the tram, or you may wind up going in the wrong direction.
7. Despite my fervent passion for it, I had no clue of the sheer number of Saltwater Taffy varieties available.
6. BART is a transportation system as well as a Simpson, and it smells.
5. Leaving one's toiletries bag in one's bathroom at home: bad.
4. Being able to find a LUSH in San Fran to buy replacements: good.
3. I did not bring enough jumpers.
2. San Francisco has a higher quotient of bums and weirdos than any other city I've been to.
and, drum roll please......
1. There is a difference between San Fran Trolleys and Cable Cars... Trolleys are like trams, they run on electricity, while cable cars are just that- cars pulled by an underground (I think) cable.
I left my heart....
In all our years in "The 'Couve", we never made it back to San Francisco. We'd been there once, in 1995, the first time we visited the US, and it was a pretty important moment for me.
Ask any of my family what they most remember about that trip, and I'll give you very, very good odds they'll mention my bad moods. Oh yes, I was a hormonal teenager to the nth. My family had a brief respite from my grumpyness (though that word alone truly does not suffice) while we were in San Francisco.
Mum and Dad wanted a to take a tour of Alcatraz, and I protested heartily... it was a boy thing, not for girls, not interesting at all. They made me do it.
It didn't take long. We each were given a set of headphones and guided on an audio tour of the ghost prison. I was captivated. From that moment on, I was an historian.
I saw it today, Alcatraz for the first time since that lightening-bolt moment. It was just as I remembered it.
Alcatraz
Ask any of my family what they most remember about that trip, and I'll give you very, very good odds they'll mention my bad moods. Oh yes, I was a hormonal teenager to the nth. My family had a brief respite from my grumpyness (though that word alone truly does not suffice) while we were in San Francisco.
Mum and Dad wanted a to take a tour of Alcatraz, and I protested heartily... it was a boy thing, not for girls, not interesting at all. They made me do it.
It didn't take long. We each were given a set of headphones and guided on an audio tour of the ghost prison. I was captivated. From that moment on, I was an historian.
I saw it today, Alcatraz for the first time since that lightening-bolt moment. It was just as I remembered it.
AlcatrazMonday, December 10, 2007
Daria
Try as I may, and I have tried, I can't properly remember the first time I met "the girl who looks like Daria."
It's a fuzzy combination of stills and soundbites, and facts I know that I've slotted in to give the memory substance. I know we must have met sometime in September 1997. We must have met in Ms Sink's Novel Approach class (6th Period!), because it was the only class we shared. Surprisingly, there weren't that many girls in the class, and certainly not that many 8th grade girls, so we must have started hanging out fairly early on in the school year.
That's what I know.
I remember Cassie Harris quite clearly, because our father's worked at the same place. She came up to me very early in the year... maybe the first day... and introduced herself. Our dad's work together, she said. I've just moved here for Rodondo Beach.
I liked Cassie right away... clearly, since I actually remember this first impression. We started talking. She wanted to be a journalist, and she loved the 1940s, and she liked to read. Obviously.
Ms Sink's class was the greatest invention ever. I didn't actually want to be in it, but I'd been sick when the year 8 electives were chosen (after having an emergency apendectomy), so my mother chose them for me. I was a little disappointed to be in novel approach.
Turns out it was one of the greatest mistakes fathomable. The concept of the class was simple. We would arrive, we would sit, we would take out a book and we would read. Occasionally, she would read to us. But mainly, we just read our own books. If we were there, and we read lots, we got an A.
After not-so-long in Ms Sink's class, I invited Cassie for a sleepover. She said "let's invite Megan too". So we did.
Megan was very tall at that point. She's still tall, but back then, the rest of the tall girls hadn't caught up. She had glasses and very dark brown hair. It wasn't naturally that colour, but I thought it was for the longest time. She had boots. The whole effect was slightly anti-social in the coolest of ways... to the point that many of the other kids called her Daria.
She was ahead of her years.
It's a fuzzy combination of stills and soundbites, and facts I know that I've slotted in to give the memory substance. I know we must have met sometime in September 1997. We must have met in Ms Sink's Novel Approach class (6th Period!), because it was the only class we shared. Surprisingly, there weren't that many girls in the class, and certainly not that many 8th grade girls, so we must have started hanging out fairly early on in the school year.
That's what I know.
I remember Cassie Harris quite clearly, because our father's worked at the same place. She came up to me very early in the year... maybe the first day... and introduced herself. Our dad's work together, she said. I've just moved here for Rodondo Beach.
I liked Cassie right away... clearly, since I actually remember this first impression. We started talking. She wanted to be a journalist, and she loved the 1940s, and she liked to read. Obviously.
Ms Sink's class was the greatest invention ever. I didn't actually want to be in it, but I'd been sick when the year 8 electives were chosen (after having an emergency apendectomy), so my mother chose them for me. I was a little disappointed to be in novel approach.
Turns out it was one of the greatest mistakes fathomable. The concept of the class was simple. We would arrive, we would sit, we would take out a book and we would read. Occasionally, she would read to us. But mainly, we just read our own books. If we were there, and we read lots, we got an A.
After not-so-long in Ms Sink's class, I invited Cassie for a sleepover. She said "let's invite Megan too". So we did.
Megan was very tall at that point. She's still tall, but back then, the rest of the tall girls hadn't caught up. She had glasses and very dark brown hair. It wasn't naturally that colour, but I thought it was for the longest time. She had boots. The whole effect was slightly anti-social in the coolest of ways... to the point that many of the other kids called her Daria.
She was ahead of her years.
It's six days now til I leave.
The time has flown; unsurprisingly, I suppose, considering how decidedly frantic this year has been. The tickets are all booked, the hotels sorted, the Disneyland e-tickets delivered to my inbox. It's really, truly true: I'm going back to the US.
Those four little letters are crucial. I'm going back to Vancouver. This isn't just some random, exploratory jaunt through a country to find myself. It's a trip with a history. It's as much about the past as anything.
So I am due to board the plane in 5 days and about 15 hours...
The time has flown; unsurprisingly, I suppose, considering how decidedly frantic this year has been. The tickets are all booked, the hotels sorted, the Disneyland e-tickets delivered to my inbox. It's really, truly true: I'm going back to the US.
Those four little letters are crucial. I'm going back to Vancouver. This isn't just some random, exploratory jaunt through a country to find myself. It's a trip with a history. It's as much about the past as anything.
So I am due to board the plane in 5 days and about 15 hours...
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