The photo is of the view from the living room. David said it is a view of serenity; when I sent it to Pat, she said she was speechless. For me, looking out at this scene is a way of synching my rhythm with that of the island and its tides and rhythms. I’ve never lived on or this near the water before, but here goes . . .
MR. CUSTOMS MAN – I MEAN WOMAN
My entry into Canada was bumpy and jarring. The customs lady asked a few question, and I flunked the test (David says it’s because I have bad b.s.). She said that because I had nothing to return to the U.S. for, no job (old, retired), no deed to a house (poor), and that I had no allegiance to the U.S., then I must be considered a visitor with a fixed return date. In other words, before I have actually arrived on Salt Spring Island, my winter adventure, I have been told to leave.
I’M COMIN’ IN!
We arrived in the dark. David came to Salt Spring Island with me to help me settle in. We found the firewood immediately, but there was no food, so we ate the chocolate I brought Marylou in thanks for picking us up at the ferry from Victoria. For the next few days we drove around, grocery shopped, kayaked, took photos, cooked and ate, and enjoyed this beautiful house on the water. (More about duck races later.)
FERRY NO-NO’s
I took David to the Victoria airport via the B.C. Ferry from Fulford to Victoria. I didn’t get in the correct lane, so I was chastised by the ferry lady who banished me to an outlying lane that put me last onto the ferry, adding to David’s nerves about making his flight. When we got to Victoria, I commented to David that I thought my eyesight had worsened; he had had to announce every sign and turn, and I noticed he flinched several times. On the way to the airport, there was a glorieta (roundabout) which added to the twists and turns. I thought I had memorized how to navigate the return glorieta. Well, no, on the way back I popped out on another road, but it turns out that it was a scenic shortcut that took me by the Victoria Flying Club and pretty houses and then back up onto the highway to the ferry. Whew!
I reached the return ferry with minutes to spare, paid the fee, and began hunting for the proper lane. No, there were no cars to follow and no apparent “Dock 3” in sight. A nice ferry man chased me down and pointed down somewhere, and I slowly wound around to the correct place and was waved onto the ferry to another punishing place between 2 huge, loud trucks. I’m sure it will become a touristy fun thing to do, but this “proper lane protocol” thing is serious business here.
AND THEN THERE’S FOOD
As a reward for not totally getting lost and finding my way back to town, for a reward I went to Jana’s Bake Shop for the best roast beef sandwich ever. I took a pie-making class last September with Jana, and her place also has sandwiches, soups, quiches, and is a popular lunch place here. I’ll tell you more later, because I think she has a great story, but will just leave you by saying I’m still thinking of that sandwich.
