I slept so well, from 7:30pm to… 5:30am. The bed wasn’t particularly comfortable and the room kind of smelled. I was so tired that it just did not matter (and sometimes this is just part and parcel of staying in spare rooms with family). I was up so early that I showered and bored myself with the internet before my host did as much as stir. Oh, jet lag.
We went to breakfast, which felt like lunch, at the Plaza Café, which is in the shadow of the construction of the new Evergreen (SkyTrain) Line (the segment along Clarke Rd). It seems like in Canada there are so many more restaurants that combine different types of food, here virtually everything seemed to have a Greek flair, even though it was a diner. This place may have been my favorite breakfast spot of the trip, I came back twice for their Big Mess.
Afterward, knowing that my afternoon and evening would evolve into a hectic time, I wanted to spend some time at Burnaby Lake Regional Park. Burnaby Lake Regional Park is a true urban oasis. It offers open water for Simon Fraser University’s rowing club to practice, migratory birds to pause on their routes, and a place close to home for the urban dwellers of Greater Vancouver to get in touch with nature. Much of the reason the area has managed to stave off development is that the land surrounding the lake is very soft and marshy. No complaints here.
CN on the mainline, heading toward downtown Vancouver
As we pulled up, a train passed by. I took this as a good omen. I then took to finding the geocaches I had made it my goal to seek. I so thoroughly enjoyed running around all of the trails, relatively proximal to where I parked, off Piper Ave. The weather was cool and threatening to rain, but it was perfect for this kind of activity. Though perhaps the best part of this trip was walking out onto the short pier into the lake, fulfilling the requirements for the Earthcache, and looking at all of the different types of ducks called the lake home, I saw plenty of mallards but then there were numerous ducks that, if they weren’t in the general shape, I’d have never recognized. An older Scottish gentleman saw me ogling some of the birds and taught me how to identify some of them. He explained that this year was actually not a particularly good one in terms of diversity but you could’ve fooled me. I think I liked the wood ducks the most, for both their sound and their coloring.
Of course, I enjoyed the nature portion of the day too long. These things happen. I had to drop off one parent to pick up the other and then rush out to the airport to pick up a friend of my mother. My mom had decided to join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Now, we had to hurry to the airport to pick up the first missionary she had ever really connected with, Misty, who she’d known for 12 years.
I never drove in Vancouver. I moved to California when I was 13. I lived in the Vancouver area for a year when I was 17-18, but I was in college with a bus pass that was included in tuition. I never had to drive. Here I was, trying to get to the airport, in a car with Imperial units (my dad brought his car with him when he moved from California), but in a country that uses metric, with a fairly good idea how to get there but not an exact idea (and no help from my mother who has lived in the Vancouver area for about 30 years but thinks that because she doesn’t drive it’s fine to not know how to get around). Amazingly, despite the initial delay and ending up on a frontage road instead of the main road, we got there a few minutes early. Hooray! And driving in Vancouver did not feel much different from driving in an unfamiliar American city or state, after a few minutes I adjusted.
We made it back with time to change into nice clothes and head toward the church for my mother’s baptism: 7pm, sharp. I am not a member of this church but my mother asked me to come to support her decision so I felt it was the right thing to do. Plus, at this exact moment in time, I had a bit of a lull in activity regarding my dissertation.
The church was brimming with activity when we arrived. One of the members had just returned from serving a mission in Argentina and they were celebrating her return. It seemed like a good night for my mother to be initiated into the Church. The baptism and ceremony were lovely, and are her story to tell. I can merely say that it was lovely and if the individuals I met were any indication of this ward at large, she will be well taken care of.
After the evening of hymns and testimony, Misty, the old missionary friend, had one request: to visit a Tim Horton’s. They don’t have Timmy’s in Idaho. Apparently, it takes the skilled hands of a Canadian to make the best maple bars. A vanilla iced with a hot French Vanilla was exactly what I needed to wind down and relax before another night of serious sleeping.
