33~Happy Days: A Burritt Blip, Going Yin-side and a Wolff Whirlwind

‘A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.’ ~Lao Tzu Chinese Philosopher 570-490B.C

I had sort of disregarded the intentions for my journey and what would unfold as a result of being in the intended destination; I was so engulfed in the civilisation that was 'The Canadian' that I landed with a bit of a surprise- our train was even early (I guess tearing down the tracks come evening was pretty effective). Fresh (-ish) from the train, disembarking for the last time was strange. Having had bid farewell to Mahina and Samantha, I collected my luggage and collected my thoughts- I was in Vancouver! I would stand outside the station and wait for the Burritts. I must say that I discovered I had train legs; it felt physically odd to no longer be in the locomotive motions and emotionally. Suddenly I was released from the carriages which I had begun to know as home- where friendships and families (and marriages!) are formed fast and the proper use of your legs is not required.

I stood outside of the train station and breathed in what I could see of Vancouver. It was 10:00 on Saturday morning and pretty grey, I had no phone numbers or way of contacting the Burritts but just trusted they would show. Sure enough, like a burst of sunshine, Katie and Liz Burritt came shrieking around the corner to find their long time friend awaiting the pick up. Reese and Jack, Katie’s children looked shocked and shy (not a typical look for these two I soon found out, I assure you) with this extremely exuberant greeting. They soon came round as we bonded over muffins and Rice Krispie buns.

We headed to Main Street to see Harvey at Burritt Bros., which is his wonderfully successful carpet store, a family business going years back. I have fond memories of being here as a kid and hiding between the hanging rugs and I played the same games with Kate's children. It became clear that Reese was working out how I fit into this world. Was I her friend? Where was my mother? As I played so readily her games, weaving in and out of the store, hide and seek, mummies and daddies and all the other imaginative larks she created, I realised that the huge chunk of time had dissolved. Kate and I would play these games some 30 years ago and here now I felt incredibly connected to her 5 year old but also entirely connected to Kate. The years we had apart felt like mere moments. We all slipped back immediately into the comforts of closeness that true friends emanate.

The crew headed to White Rock, out of Vancouver, to Kate’s house; it was quite incredible to see Kate as a mother with a home and husband. I had a fleeting thought that I could not have put myself in a more different place; I had in fact made myself homeless- selling my flat and car and leaving my comfortable life. Choosing a temporarily nomadic existence, rejecting physical attachments and seeking freedom of the open road and a lone traveller. Although our present trajectories were somewhat different, it didn't matter one squidgy bit because we were still the 7 year olds at heart, in rapport and affection. Kate immediately produced a treasured tin that was full of history. We poured over archives in the form of rather embarrassing letters penned during our early teens and also some quite unforgiving photographs. The Wolff’s had left Canada in 1990, much to the devastation of all; Kate and I became devoted penpals and wrote to each other in earnest. The letters always ended with: 'P.S When are you coming to England??' (me) and 'P.S I am working on my mom, I miss you!' (Kate)

I would stay with Liz and Harvey- a childhood dream to be adopted by these two and living it at the age of 35 seemed just perfect. However,  one sleep in my new room, a family breakfast, a shuffle of belongings and repacking and a drop off in the city was next- Kate would leave me with a lift I had organised to get me to my next spot: off grid and kinda near Whistler for a Yin Yoga Teacher Training Retreat. This was the road that would later that day take me there and fill me with wonder:

It felt like not enough time to settle on in to my summer home but it was a nice taster of what was to come.

A quick stop at Crescent beach in the dusky twilight, a bright moon in a lavender sky and home to Liz and Harvey’s all helped to orientate me to this little spot in the world, I packed for the week of yoga and looked forward to my return.

I have to say my week of yoga was quite something. I met some amazing people (from a Texan fireman, to a gorgeous mom and daughter from Montana, a fellow Brit- a fun and funny gal from Manchester, my roomie was a great girl from NYC, a cool girl from Holland was my yoga neighbour and many more- we were quite an eclectic bunch) in an awesome setting, had some sublime yoga sessions, learnt a hell of a lot and felt rejuvenated to have the daily yin pervade my body. Our teachers, Bernie and Diana (and of course each other, the students), blew my mind with their sessions and spirits. I could write so much more about this experience. The komorebi was rife here in our little forest-y haven, as were the snow covered mountains and reflections in the still waters of the lakes.

We had one afternoon off and I headed to Whistler with another Jessica for healthy snacks and to sit near a lake:

I went for a few early morning runs (5:00am in order to make the 6:00am yang yoga session), hoping to avoid the bears that inhabit the surrounding area. I dreamt one night that bears and panthers were on the dirt road and although I did not meet them early morning, I did cut my toe. So perhaps the dream was a sign to keep off the track. A nurse from Kamloops, part of the yoga group, was insistent I get a tetanus shot. So at the end of the retreat I got dropped off from my yoga sanctuary by the Texan fireman in downtown Vancouver. Quite overwhelming!! Realising I had no passport and faculties to speak with people in the real world, instead of heading into the clinic to negotiate an injection and face the costs this would incur, I opted for a blueberry smoothie and a sweet potato scone from Wholefoods. Feeling like an alien (with a bit of a scabby toe); donning a dishevelled mountain look; glazed yoga expression, I waited roadside. I was clutching my scone on Cambie and Main Street, in the hope to be collected by Kate’s husband Keith. 

Fortunately, I was indeed spirited away and in the comfort of Keith’s care we headed to white Rock, where at least the trees are in abundance and the smaller town vibe resides. I scooted with Reese and we had pizza while I gave Kate a taster of the Thai massage I had just learnt that morning. Life would became homogenous again, instead of being made up of detached fragments. A home to reside in, with my own room and family. (Although I am beginning to realise how, really, each little spot quickly becomes home and it is amazing how quickly you settle. )As we chatted away, I realised that Mama Wolff and Richard would be arriving the following day and a whole new world would open up once again.

Liz and I went to greet Mama W and Richard at the airport and it felt so strange to see them coming down the stretch from arrivals; the last time I had seen them was in London St Pancras and they fussed as I went to fetch the tube and I had to shoo them away! Of course the impossibly segregated worlds of a traveller and home are no longer so separate, with the modern technologies blurring the appearance of distance. But here they were, in Canada, ready for their holidays! So we all stayed at Liz’s and we had a grand time. Liz as always, creates a delicious spread seemingly from nowhere- she has a particular predilection (and talent) for awesome crudites and a dill dip that Mama Wolff loves.

Riot and mirth perpetuated our time here. Reminiscing and storytelling punctuated our evenings, afternoons and mornings. It thrilled me to see my mom so happy- back with her friends, full of verve and chatter. These friends we had lived so closely alongside 25 years ago have always permeated our thoughts and hearts, to have this time was quite special and seemingly perfectly times. We realised that Kate and I were the ages that Liz and Mama Wolff were when we were in the realms of deep childhood friendship. Kate and I had met in kindergarden. We all remember the time in May, when I said to Mama Wolff that I wanted to invite Kate to my birthday party. I remember mum approaching Liz and offering the invite. This was it. Even though Kate went to a different school a few years later, we remained besties with a penchant for sleepovers. I remember popcorn; late night apples; den making; Dan (Kate’s little brother) in character as Indiana Jones; Dan in time-out; Anne of Green Gables; reading and sharing books; dolls; Kate’s blue and striped Alice in Wonderland dress; pancakes; Liz and her loveliness; adventures at the cabin in Point Robert’s; Harvey playing the guitar; the mom’s with g&t’s and bottles of wine; parties and us all together in a bundle of laughter and fun. One may think I have rose tinted nostalgic glasses on here, but reminiscing so many years on, we do all recollect the happiest of times.

 I loved to hear Harvey and Liz and our other friends talking about ‘Addy’. I guess we all called Adam this when he was little. Everyone remembered him as the loveliest of little boys, his big brown eyes and kind nature ever present. Michael, Addy’s best bud, had seen us off at the airport when we left for England and apparently turned to his mum and said, ‘What are we going to do without Addy?’ To which she responded by bursting into tears, as she too was losing her friend, Judy. Here we are catching up with the Revell’s, who like the Burritt family, were dear friends during our Canadian lives.

So, Adam, I may have likened you to a sloth in a former blog but know that I only talk you up. Liz says when she watches the videos from when we were kids she would like to reach into history and grab Addy to give him a great big kiss. His great big, gentle brown eyes. The youngest of a rowdy bunch, baby-bird like in his slow toddler movements, absorbing the hysteria around him wide-eyed; Dan has a melt down as Addy accidentally eats one of the crisps from his plate and Addy looks on with a hint of wonder and surprise until one of the moms sweeps in and placates Dan’s tantrum.

Although Dan was older, he was on the smaller side. He also was permanently in character- he was in a Ghostbuster phase here! Indian Jones was another fave. Here he is now, Dan the Man (SUPER lovely, gentlemanly, funny and an anchorman on CBC- I was amazed to see him on the telly, loving watching him from the Burritt abode):-

Addy emulates the beautiful persona that embodies him still and we all wish both him and Steph were also here for this visit. This was such a strange thing- watching videos (converted to DVD) on the last day of mum and Richard’s trip. It was strange to watch myself. I was quite shy in the birthday shenanigans. Hiding behind Kate and her confident performance and chatter in front of the camera, watching on as Steph took centre stage with a recorder show and a dialogue with Liz about her teacher's flaws (verging on a potential character assassination). Harvey kept focusing the camera on my face and my retreating shyness. My freckled face looked no different to now and it made me very emotional to see myself and my I know this is a powerful therapy: looking at yourself as a child and speaking to that child knowing what you know now, stripping back life's traumas and emotional roller coasters that every person inevitably endures (all relative of course). I myself, do not feel hurt by the past but watching myself, appearing to seek solitude below in the depths while the others darted around on the surface like a school of fish, moved me and I wanted to tell that little girl that everything would be okay.

What was more amusing as opposed to emotional, was seeing Liz and Mama W. The 80s looks they had going on- shoulder pads, high waisted trousers with pleats and quite interesting perms all boxy, heavy on the make-up. Mama Wolff is clearly in the kitchen drinking her wine for the most part (a slight diservice here as I am sure she is preparing party food too) but arrives on screen as we are gathered at the party table and as Liz walks in carrying a Ghostbusters cake with an unmistakeable Slimer on top, we could all not stop laughing. Snapshots are great but seeing us in motion was a whole new level of our trip down memory lane.

Spending time with the Revell's had also involved a lot of reminiscing, as did our awesome catch up with the McKays- a visit to a winery; roadside blueberry sampling; an outing to Canada Place; hanging out at their place and looking at old photos...

Genevieve was another bestie from childhood and we, much similar to the Burritt/Wolff gang, had a Bucher/Wolff gang too. A LOT of time was spent riding our bikes, eating candy and hanging out at each others houses. We lived close and were in the same class at school. She called us her 'special guests' and we received the star treatment:

We had a gorgeous dinner and met her husband and two children. Genevieve was just the same and we slipped right back into the comfortable childhood nook. 

Mama Wolff was also big time friends with Gen's parents and Angela, her sister, is vibrant in my memories as are Bob and Kerry Bucher. 

I organised a girly lunch so Mama could catch up with all her besties from back in the day- Liz Burritt, Cathy McKay, Mama Wolff and Ann Revell. Back in the hey day all of us would get together and have some pretty fun parties, remembered by us all:

So, as you see this was all quite a lot of activity! Fortunately we had a little summer holiday sandwiched in between all the wonderful shananigans- we went Lakeside. That little adventure is up next, Blog 34. You can see how a blip with the Burritts is just not enough, how an education of yin yoga (off grid but connected to my native land) could not have been more perfect and how the Wolff/Heseltine arrival created quite a whirlwind. I loved seeing Mama Wolff and Richard having such a good time with their buddies. Happiest of days! More of those to come...

32~All Aboard! Captive on the 'The Canadian'

From the Toronto stadium to the train station...

Realising that I had somehow managed to check in and arrive by the skin of my teeth (yet again) was not surprising. Although in this instance, I had believed myself to be in a rather timely fashion so was somewhat railroaded by the hurried way in which disembarking from my Oakville family bosom to boarding 'The Canadian' all happened. The sad good byes to Evan, Sarah and Becs in a rather miserable looking area of the train station did not seem an apt setting for a poetical farewell. I assured them I would be fine and promised to keep them updated with the train adventures, or indeed the lack of. Many people had expressed concern when I talked of my upcoming journey, likening it to a captivity of the negative sort. "Make sure you have plenty of reading material, especially for when you hit the prairies of Manitoba!"  Even some offered sympathy, thinking 4 days on a train was surely an unwelcome incarceration. I had a prophetic inkling that there was the potential for it to be wonderful and possibly adventuresome. I remembered my friend Chrissy back in Lunenberg had said it would be perfectly romantical and I held on to that.

This said, I ensured my backpack was full of reading material as this is the way I have been travelling generally and I had a clear plan: blog, skype, read, soak up the landscape and hope for adventure. I was pretty sure that this was the right approach when facing a 4 day train journey that many viewed as an unfortunate incarceration. So alone in the station, with a questionable bunch, I begun to question whether this woebegone area was indeed the right spot. It was not. I hustled to the departure lounge that was quite different in appearance and atmosphere. Art deco in style and pretty plush. People milling, but mostly sitting and supping drinks. I was rushed through the process (apparently arriving half an hour before departure is not the done thing), checking in and receiving my berth number, registering my preferred times for lunch and dinner sittings. Quite the whirlwind- I had not really thought about how it would all work once aboard. I quickly seized the wifi to let the Oakville family know I was okay. Evan immediately responded with relief saying they were 'worried you were stuck with that seedy crowd'. Before I knew it we were being sent on our way from the departure lounge- really an 'All Aboard!' business going on here!

As the fellow 'Canadian' passengers ambled along the far reaching carriages of this HUGE train. I looked back at Toronto, through the drizzle and darkened sky. Amazed how just moments ago I was with my Oakville family and the night was just beginning to darken and spatterings of rain threatened the possibility of more, and now a whole new world.

The walk was pretty long, I was at the end of the bloody train. Later I would love this but it seemed so odd as I and the passengers sought out our homes for the following days. Clutching our bed or cabin numbers and our luggage as we walked the length of our train, I could not help but think of the pictures of evacuees boarding their trains to take them to their new homes. As I climbed aboard, I met Ishmael. He was my porter up until Winnipeg and he got me settled in my upper berth. It was all made up for bedtime. I was surprised how comfy it felt. Regretfully, it was rather high (sure I could have dangled Evan from here if he would have conceded to a reenactment) and I am not really a top bunk fan but this was a $100 cheaper than the lower berth so in a bemused fashion I settled in. I was opposite a lovely elderly couple and a couple of friends also on an adventure to Jasper.

This bed was super comfy! The sheets so clean and lovely. On my bed a little pack providing towels and bottles of shampoo and soap. A right nice little care kit. So glad I had not stretched the budget to book a cabin. It felt surprisingly spacious.

Ishmael said that these berths are actually a lot more roomy than the cabins (they have a toilet in the room and they are tiny- would not have liked that combo at all- quite claustrophobic) and that in the daytime it is much lovelier than the cabins too. I had lucked out with a half price ticket, without realising the money I had saved.  I knew it was discounted ticket but the website was so confusing and the deals changed all the time. I was rather confused and I remember biting the bullet late one night back in Boston. I did the math and realised that actually 4 days, food, travel and accommodation, the price was actually a bargain and booked it. I am so glad I did. I even got upgraded to the lower berth beneath me on day 2 (as there was no one there) and the last night I had my carriage to myself when my neighbours departed in Jasper. Lower berths are great as there is no dangling risk and most importantly, a window. A window in which you can gaze at the passing scenery as you drift to sleep and wake. While most passengers contrived to murder sleep, I was beyond fine. I loved sleeping on the train. (Although many freight trains caused long delays, where 'The Canadian' would remain stationary and this was to the frustration of some passengers. I took it on the chin, I was loving the incarceration. The train driver seemed to speed in the night to make up the lost hours and occasionally I would wake from my slumber as we screeched around corners...).

Initially attended by invisible company, I traversed the carriage. I sat myself in the panorama viewing car where there was champagne and canapes were being served as we left the Toronto metropolis.

This was very fancy, quite unexpected and it seemed that people were quickly making friends. Me being me, was contemplating bed at 10:30 and did not partake in the schmoozing- I was early sittings for food and was aware I would need an early breakfast in order to be ready for lunch at 11:30! I was also reeling from the shock of discovering that there was no wifi. When I asked the man topping up champagne the code for the wifi, he informed me that there was none. I may be lucky and get a little in Winnipeg, possibly in Jasper. I must have looked a picture. Plans hopelessly dashed in a mere moment, I think my expression of incredulity must have made him feel he had hurt me terribly and I was some digitally demanding princess. So I pulled myself together, explaining I was all for a digital detox but was caught unaware about this one! I took myself off to bed to lick my wounds.

The next morning I quickly made friends and was joined at breakfast by Janet. A lady from Manchester celebrating her 50th and on a bit of a random Canadian adventure. A Korean guy living in Winnipeg on all sorts of adventures and Linda who became a firm friend for the rest of the trip until she disembarked in Kamloops for a family party.

I later met Mahina, who became my train husband- people believed us to be newlyweds. We were in fact just train buddies who connected and hung out with each other for the following days. He was an early meal sitting guy too- so we dined, chatted the hours away and played scrabble (he won just about everytime, much to my dismay). I guess the nature of the train meant that it appeared we were inseparable- he followed behind me (single file is the only way to move) and held the doors and reserved our favourite table in the dining car. He was a bit of a gentleman and many of the elder ladies seemed to swoon for him, but you know he was just a really interesting, lovely guy (admittedly amazingly muscly and handsome) and mostly a welcome travelling companion. And people love a bit of a romance, so I can not deny the potential of it being extremely romantical.

The thing was, I thought I had it pretty good. This little microcosm of society was an interesting and comfortable affair. My only suggestion was the need for an exercise carriage; the inertia of the body becoming vexatious. Not just for me- others too. The friends from Montreal performed sit ups in the aisles come day; Janet stomped the carriages; Mahina and I met at 5:30 to work out in the viewing carriage. This fresh start necessary to avoid the early risers, ready for their coffees, pre breakfast pastries and panorama scenery.

Everyone you spoke to was feeling indulged by the sheer volume of beautiful food and the sheer lack of movement.

At the end of the day I am active and no Victorian gal. A 'turn around the room', to quote Jane Austen, was not quite enough. Stretching did not seem to cut it either, my legs wanted to run free. Hearing that Jasper would be an hour stop, I conspired to twist someone's arm to help me find my baggage and grab my runners in order to blast through the town of Jasper. My porter wrote down the name of a man that could help and sent me on my way; warning me to allow enough time as lunch was soon and it is a far way to go. On the promise of being reunited with my trainers, treading resolutely (in a linear fashion) through the expanse of carriages, I went to find Shaun. Sure enough he was there and more than willing to oblige. As I followed him, I blathered on about my need to get my legs moving and how my only gripe about this wonderful train experience was that they really ought to have a yoga carriage. He chortled and humoured me. This was about to sound extremely princess-y and not in the good princess way.

The luggage was in the very front carriage and to get there we had to walk through the penultimate carriage- the reclining chair section. Oh my, I was not prepared for it. I had become so immersed in my world in miniature, I neglected to consider what went on in this beast of a train. I had to walk through a middle section that was a replica of ours. It seemed quite alien as the people were unfamiliar and the fact it was central seemed quite rubbish and stifling in comparison to our position. Being at the end was very liberating in that we could watch the railway tracks snake off into the distance, between mountains and trees.

The section with the reclining chairs looked like a bomb had hit and smelt pretty bad too. It felt hot and people looked extremely fed up. I entertained two young children for a while, figuring it was the least I could do; the solo mother had a large cool box, laundry and some toys strewn around. This would not be an easy journey. This was incarceration. Nowhere to go. Living in your chair. I had slept one night on a reclining seat from Halifax to Quebec, but four would be a challenge. And I did not have children to contend with. Unsure if I could absolve myself with any amount of humanitarian work, I guiltily made the trek back to my world of white linen table cloths, three course meals, pastries and snacks to hand, entertainment, friends and panoramic viewing cars. Where there was at least the possibility of stretching.

Mahina who had been 'stretching'- I think it was a hard core work out, using the berths to perform crazy push up/leg presses and god knows what else- had impressed a young Japanese man, travelling with his father. The boy acted as his dad's translator and there was a lovely tranquility and respectfulness that rested around them; we dined with them as we went through the Rocky mountains.

Their witnessing of Mahina mid workout, using the train car as his machines to lever himself, had left them somewhat in awe and humbled by Mahina and his huge presence. Apparently there were a lot of 'ohhhhhhh' and 'ahhhhhh' as he completed this beefcake set of exercises. The young Japanese man bowed to Mahina, informing him that he had the perfect body. Mahina later slipped the boy a protein bar that he had promised him. I was quite bemused by this. Mahina, although pretty impressed by the food selection and portion size, had to supplement the regiment of the train dining experience and was allowed two dinners one evening. I seized the opportunity and in our 40 minute stopover in Jasper, I disembarked and ran. Finding time to snap a few shots as I recovered from the shock of movement and wobbly train legs:

Our time in Winnipeg with Linda was fun too. Here we are enjoying stretching our legs and seeing the nearby sights (I am surprised by the statue of Ghandi which was gifted to the Friends of the Canadian Museum for Human Rights):

The market was pretty good and Mahina, a bit of a connoisseur, picked up some cheese, crackers and wine for us to enjoy together. I loved the prairie lands and the old mills we passed:

He did a great job hosting our own little soiree in the panoramic car as the sun went down.

There was wine and beer tasting on two of the evenings which we attended both:

I was approached by one girl asking me to play cards. She said she would not normally do this but I seemed really nice. I say girl, she was in fact 18. She travelled with her grandmother and Mahina and myself both believed her to be 13. You can also see the Japanese father appreciating the mountainous landscape:

They joined us for dinner one night and I played cards a few times with her as Mahina spoke with her grandmother about Canada and life. We were soon also joined by Samantha. She was an interesting girl; again I presumed her to be a lot younger than she actually was. I had spotted her around the train and a few times had questioned where her mother may be. Once I sat and spoke with her I realised she was amazingly smart, radiating beautiful positivity, innocence- yet acutely aware with a great sense of humour too. We played cards:

She carried around a packed lunch box as she was a bit of a fussy eater and needed some go to chocolate bars. We had a great game of scrabble and I know Mahina and I were both impressed by her, as were the train staff. What an independent and lovely young woman. She is a Youth Outreach Worker for The Canadian Association for Community Living and she really blew me away with her loveliness and light shining from within.

I really could not have had a more amazing trip across Canada. White linen cloths surmounted with beautiful feasts and breathtaking views from prairies to mountains; new friends; a train husband; a headstand in the viewing carriage; a run in a mountainous landscape; a cosy bed, being rocked to sleep and feeling super connected to the land on such a special crossing of the country. A veritable triumph in more ways than one. As we dismounted, I was finally in Vancouver. Hugging Mahina close and exchanging details with Samantha. As they made their way to Victoria, I gathered my bags and headed out into the early morning air to wait for my pick up. A reunion with old friends, my Vancouver family and a whole new leg of the journey awaiting. From East to West in 4 days. Hurtled across Canada, held captive by the changing landscapes of the provinces and held captive in a beautiful bubble of a world; romantical, poetical, full of fun, food and unexpected friendships.

‘It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters in the end.’

 ~Ernest Hemingway