Tomorrow, I'll take the B.C. Ferry from Victoria to Vancouver.
As excited as I am to explore Vancouver and beyond, I don't feel quite ready yet.
Victoria grew on me.
I was just thinking about how much better I feel most days here compared to other places, especially L.A..
I think because this is an island, and not so easy to get to, the population and industry remain low.
The most important thing is air goes down easy except for one day when pollen count was probably high and so were the winds.
As you can imagine, in Los Angeles air frequently doesn't go down easy.
Scientists say breathing L.A. air is like smoking 1 to 2 packs of cigarettes a day.
Looks like smoking all day to me. How many packs would that be?
Photo of a typical summer day from the air, which I took flying in last summer.
Even when you wake up feeling good (though I never woke up breathing as well as here) if pollutants get trapped in the basin later in the day, and I go out to exercise, I feel discomfort in my lungs and head whereas in Victoria I just go about my day and don't notice either.
In L.A. friends talk about their breathing, coughing, and congestion the way people in Victoria talk about going to coffee or getting an ice cream.
They eat a lot of ice cream in the summer. And a lot of women jog on Dallas Road on the weekends. Oxymoron?
An unexpected positive here, moist air = moist skin. My fingernails and feet are in much better shape--no dryness--than back in the desert of Southern California. So okay they charge four times as much for manicures and pedicures, but you don't need them as often.
You can drink water from the faucet here. You can in Los Angeles, too. But with toxic dump sites seeping nearby in any given area, would you want to?
One of the true joys of Victoria, and everywhere I
traveled on Vancouver Island is the space.
Space to be.
Space not to be crowded out.
You can hear yourself think without reacting to the guy next to you, two-inches away with honking cars in the background. A symphony of cell phone talkers and cars merging into white noise, with the occasional baritone who must be heard reciting last night's game. And then there's the occasional crash of cars, as the result of frustrated deal-makers in the fast lane getting nowhere.
And the sound of a car back-firing? Don't be so sure.
In L.A. a favorite pasttime is one upping your opponent on how to drive to a destination the easiest and quickest way, invariably on clogged roadways and freeways, which is just silly when you realize what you really need is to morph into a Jetson's spacemobile.
I'm debating to leave one of my two suitcases (I'm not a gifted packer) in Victoria, which means I'd likely return in near future. I could mail a suitcase back to L.A. but I'm not interested in picking up my things there, though eventually I will get my belongings, which include a Yamaha U-3 piano, grandma's china from Romania, and an assortment of attractive shoes.
So I'll sign off for today to enjoy sunny Victoria, feeling satisfaction that my efforts for the time being have paid off.
Seek and ye shall find.
