blame Canada

Music: Erik Wøllo: Emotional Landscapes (2003)

My neighbor Mike described Canadian customs as "the Royal Welcome," and boy did I receive it today. Stay tuned.

Mike, an unapologetic hippy and successful businessman, has a second home here in Vancouver, where he likes to spend a lot of time (especially summers). Our mutual friends and former neighbors Graham and Marsha just moved to Vancouver, and I'm currently sitting in their guest bedroom. It's somewhat strange to be looking at beautiful vistas and mountain peaks, in 70 degree weather, with my "Texas Family," but I'm damn glad and happy I'm here. Actually, I'm heading down to Tacoma for a conference (which I hope to blog about as it is in progress) on teaching rhetorical criticism tomorrow. But since my Austin peeps are here in Vancouver, it seemed like I needed to turn this into a Pacific Northwest tour, so I flew in here and will come back after the conference for a couple of days to play.

I thought Boulder was paradise in July. I thought wrong. It's definitely Vancouver. Jay-sus.

Ok, but to the "Royal Welcome." I finally get to Canada. I pass through the sentry and their 20 questions ("ever been to Canada before?" "Why are you here?" "What is your profession?" "Where do your friends live" and so on). As I'm waiting for my bag at baggage claim, I whip out my laptop to use the free wifi and check email. I'm approached by a cop. "Excuse me sir. Can I see your passport and claim check?" Ok, so I hand it over and he starts asking me the 20 questions again. "I'll hold on to this," he says, and then just walks away with my passport and exit pass. So, I close up my computer, get my bag, and approach him.

"Walk with me," he says. He continues to ask questions: "Why are you here?" "Ever been in front of a judge before?" "Do you have a DUI?"

"To see friends," "no," and "no."

I'm herded in a room and told to stand at station 3. There's this long row of stations, and two people are having their luggage rifled through. I heave my luggage on a long table and the cop disappears behind a one-way mirrored room.

Crap. Here's the problem: In my luggage I have a huge stash of fresh tortillas. This is the one thing my friends cannot get in Vancouver, and the thing they craved. And you can buy a life's supply for like $2. And I did not check "food" on my customs ticket as I should have. Now, prepackaged foods are totally ok, but . . . I admit I was sweating.

OH MY GOD. I AM GOING TO GET BUSTED FOR TORTILLAS!

Ok, I realize it's amusing---which is why I am blogging about it. But, you know, I've never been to Canada before and I have this issue with authority . . . .

About ten minutes pass and the cop returns with my passport and ticket. "Here you go. Have a nice day."

No search. So what was all this about? My long hair? I mean, this IS Vancouver (Austin on steroids, but with more Asians and less boot----well, basically, all the hippie and none of the cowboy).

The Royal Welcome continued when the Avis dealer would not accept my credit card. The university hooked me up with a pretty sweet deal, but declined to tell me I could not use my preferred method of payment. Enterprise next door had no problem renting me a car . . . for $1100 a week! Holy crap. No thanks.

So, I took a cab to my friends' house. I was told the drive down to the states was gorgeous, which is why I wanted to rent the car. But not all dreams come true. Instead it's an Amtrack train ride down to Tacoma. I love trains, so this will work just as well.

And at a fraction of the price: $37.

Despite this travel-blah welcome, seeing my old neighbors has been great. We had a grill out, and then, caught a fireworks show on the gulf. Apparently I'm here during a sort of fireworks stand-off between a team from the U.S., Mexico, China, and Canada. Tonight was the United States' fireworks display, and it was fantastic. Long, creative, and fantastic. I regret I forgot my camera.

"Gee, thanks guys. Putting up a fireworks show for my arrival was really too much!" I joked.

"You're welcome," Marsha said. "We were on standby to start later if your plane didn't get here on time."