Now don't you get excited by this beauty. I may have just found a new area that I can call home.
Not that the Canadians will let me, if they know I'm an Americana.
"If people don't like Americans where should I say I'm from?"
"As soon as you speak a Canadian will know where you're
from." So says, my host.
Ha!
Well, I'm going to try.
"Hi, I'm from Canada."
"No. They'll know"
"Hi, I'm from Canada."
Try ag... forget about it.
It's pretty here, and hard to leave the sweet going down air, the gorgeous oxygenating trees, the birdsong, waterfalls, weeping willows, though weep not, for all is well in the small city, the small island, the NOW of Ekhardt Tolle.
Here on Quadra Island.
The other night. At that concert. The MC asked if there were any Americans in the crowd. Do you think I fessed up after the anti-American jargon I had to hear in Victoria? Not a chance. Just like our fabulous, creative, open-minded if you're in California country, there are all kinds here. Good. Better. Not so good.
Anyway, today I drove to stinky Campbell River--I'm sorry--but it WAS stinky from the pulp mill's sulfur compound, not my favorite but around here it's the smell of jobs and money in a mill town.
Campbell River is on east coast of Vancouver Island and known as a salmon capital where I, really, we, caught the BC Ferry.
I made a friend. Just friends, mind you.
So the reason I say "I" and not "we" is because I'm traveling alone and not into commitments here or there, until I'm ready and I will be ready soon and soon as I am, you'll consistently read "we".
Ruthy wrote to ask when I'm coming home.
I haven't decided where home is, and I have no plans to return to Los Angeles.
I enjoy breathing air that goes down easy. All the way, without intrusion from fine particulate matter as diesel trucks waft (do they waft?) by my building on the 405 Freeway in Brentwood. Better known for O.J. killing his wife, Costa Rican bananas that are shipped and diesel trucked to California (cough cough), Farmer's Market on Sundays where women, who won't leave home without a proper French manicure, pick up organic bananas, jewelry sparkling in sunlight. Who needs it?
Not me. (Just the manicure)
So today I went to a temperate rain forest on the island of Quadra, which you can get to from Campbell River by taking the ferry to go beyond.
Beyond your comfort zone.
Come on!
Once there, I, I mean, we, walked around Rebecca Spit, which is quite lovely.
And spit is not what cowboys do with chewing tobacco, it is rather a long sand mass.
And the battery of my camera went out. And my spare? Sure I had it. It was dead.
Most of these photos, are a result of the "we" that I don't speak of.
I hiked up Beech's mountain and look at what I saw from atop.
Pretty amazing.
Especially if you saw me swatting big black flies, and screaming at imaginary bees all the way up. A few may have been real.
Birdsong. Yes.
And later a wonderful drink--I had Sprite--at a First Nation's resort called Tsa-Kwa-Luten Lodge, which I highly recommend for a drink, a walk, a room. I only had one of the above and can't attest to anything more. But check it out here. I'm quite sure it's a romantic getaway. Wouldn't you like to know? Me, too.
P.S. I met a couple who sold their life belongings and sail slowly (due to gas prices) around the West, mostly Northwest because of beauty and calm inlets between islands. Hmmmm.
