And Finally To Calgary…

Off To Calgary

So this is it, time for the ‘big off’. It had begun to feel as if we could settle down in the US for a moment, but I guess that can happen when you are living with family, acting as tourist with no jobs. But now we must push on to our new home in Calgary.

Our Route


The Route was planned by Todd, and it was to take us 10 minutes from Lynden to the border crossing at Sumas. Assuming there would be no problems here we would head up to Kamloops before spearing our way through the Rocky Mountains to get to our new city. Todd would take his shiny  new Chevy Camaro, and I would follow in a slightly more clunky Chevy Tahoe.

There are probably Americans and Canadians who would look at this itinerary and think, “so what?,” but to us Brits, this is no small feat. I do not ever remember it being taught, so it must be genetics, but British people seem to believe the following;

  • under an hour can be called “a nip out”
  • 1-2hours is a journey
  • 3-4 hours is a long trip
  • 5-6 hours you need to think about stopping over night on your way
  • 6+ hours and you will fall asleep at the wheel, crash and either die or maim an innocent family.

Obviously maiming anybody would not be an ideal start to our life in Canada, but I was very aware that, as many other locals do regularly, we were going to embark on a trip practically twice over the maiming limit. Gulp.

So we set off at 8.00am sharp, and the simple fact I was out of bed this early was enough to make me feel drowsy. The sun was already out in full force that morning, so the roads conditions where good, but my eyes would be strained. Sunglasses required. So with cereal bars to hand we fuelled the vehicles and set off on our journey.

We crossed the border at Sumas without any difficulties from border control and so were off on our way in Canada heading straight towards some very big mountains.

To Kamloops

The roads here were in good order and people where driving freely, apart from the big lorries, which crawl up the mountains looking as if they may slip backwards at any second. However as we continued we did pass snow which had been ploughed to the sides of the roads serving as a warning for this countries potential for extreme conditions. The drive though was visually spectacular.

After just over three hours, already at the long trip stage, we stopped for food in Kamloops, and to top up on gas.

To Salmon Arm

From Kamloops the drive to Salmon arm was equally spectacular. I could quite happily have stopped at any of the lakes we passed and spent my day there. But time was of the essence and besides, Sacha was now asleep, so I turned up the radio and ploughed on.

In Salmon Arm we stopped for a toilet break and I decided to have my first coffee of the day so far. It was about 2.30pm, so not bad going.

To Golden

This leg of the journey without doubt required the most concentration, especially as we passed through Glacier National Park. As we twisted and wound ourselves through the mountains with a whole convoy of other vehicles, we found the roads a bit more worn and the snow surrounding us that much more deeper. Also as we passed through the mountains’ tunnels we found there was absolutely no lighting inside them. Suddenly from daylight everything turns black, all the dashboard panel illuminates and it all becomes like a scary video game.

Getting to Golden was a relief and a good place to stop for a Tim Hortons’ coffee and cookie. Only two coffees, and it was after 5pm now.


Through the Rockies

To Banff

The snow from here was impressive, several feet high in places, it was incredible how easy to drive the roads were through. There was no hint of wildlife were to be seen, and I didn’t blame it.

We stopped off in Banff to refuel and ten minutes later where straight off again to our final destination.



And Finally To Calgary

Wow, this was the shortest leg of the journey, but it felt like it went on and on and on. Finally we left the Banff National Park, the mountains dissolved into prairie land and Calgary’s evening lights came into view. It was less than an hour before we were in the city itself. To be honest by now I was tired, and driving through the city’s traffic was taking extra concentration.

However before we knew it, we where in Calgary, we had navigated its crossroads and highways and were parked outside the place we could now call home.

Last Day Sun

Well, this was our final full day in Washington. Tomorrow we would be setting off on our way to our new home in Calgary. So we felt the need to get out and take one last look at the state where we have been staying for over a month now.

We woke up bright and early on a Sunday morning and huzzah, we had bright glorious sun! A trip over to Birch Bay near Blaine was in order. Here are a few pictures of our last day fun in sunny Washington.

Stoney Beach


Stoney beach with wood


A path to sea




She sells sea shells…


Sacha by the sea


Sacha filtered by the sea


Me, not filtered, by the sea


Sea and trees

I See Guns In America

So I have been in Washington for a while and one thing that I have noticed here is that the famous American Second Amendment is fully utilised. For those who do not know, this is the constitutional right for Americans to use and bear arms.

So Sue Me (Oh Wait I’m in America)

Now I am aware that there is a passionate debate pro-gun and anti-gun in the US, and I want to be careful to people’s sensitivities, after all, you do have guns. So as we all know ignorance is no defence, however to expect that I could know everything would be a bizarre pedestal to place me on, so I will just try to approach this subject as if I have some sort of foreign ignorance waiver to let me by. My aim is not go about this as some sort of anti-gun preacher. After all one of the reasons the US have their second amendment was so they didn’t have to listen to us English folk, and plus, we have already given you Piers Morgan to do rock that boat.

So after all that grovelling, if anybody does get offended by my lack of understanding or comparisons, then….erm…sorry I guess. I would say “so sue me” but over here I feel that is a very dangerous game to play. To be honest when American servers tell me “have a nice day” I’m surprised they do not make me sign a waiver in case I have a rubbish day and decides to sue them. So Americans, just call me a ‘left wing, hippy, communist’, or a ‘bad-teethed limey,’ or what ever is you think will insult me if it makes you feel better.

Logic and Guns

So people in the UK can have guns, they just need to have a licence, and preferably not to have the intention to use it to shoot at other human beings. Pheasants, ducks, partridge, all sorts of game birds and even deer may feel no benefit from this gun control, but generally, I will not see a gun in a public place. I can vividly remember as a primary schooler watching the tragic news coverage of the Dunblane School Massacre which preceded a move for tighter controls on guns controls in Britain. Obviously these sort of crimes have affected the US as well, but I will not go down that path here. It is interesting just how ingrained in many British peoples’ minds this incident seems to be, and how much we believe that controlling gun ownership will help prevent it from happening again.

From what I can see the logic for safety in the US is exactly the opposite. As a local said to me “if somebody knows that everybody has a gun, they will think twice before pulling something, and if they still do then they will probably get killed before they does people harm.” The argument is an intriguing one.

Us English

So you guys didn’t like being told what to do or how much taxes to pay to us English colonialists. To me that does seem fair enough, many other places didn’t either. So learning from history it seems that to break free from us English you can either peacefully not fight us, as Gandhi skilfully did, confusing us with a fearful lack of confrontation. Or you can just kick us in the groin by throwing all our tea in the Atlantic Sea and with your right to bear arms, send us off to drink it.

We used to have similar laws in the UK allowing us to shoot at people. Historic laws involved shooting the Welsh with bows and being scared of the Scottish. It seems that many countries have felt the need for their citizens to be prepared to bear arms for their security. Fortunately in the UK, the Welsh are not the threat to English that they once were and such laws have since become obsolete. So as for the USA perhaps the English threat just hasn’t gone away yet, after all …. Piers Morgan.

I See Guns

So I am in the North West of America, not Texas or Louisiana or the other Deep South places stereotyped for loving their weaponry. Yet still I can not help but be amazed by just how many people walk in public with holsters bulging from their hips. One evening myself and Sacha decided to go to the Bellingham’s cinema to watch a movie and I was amazed to see how many people walked into the theatre carrying popcorn, nachos, a fizzy drink, possibly a hot dog and a semi automatic weapon. It was constantly going through he back of my mind that I hope a bullet doesn’t. Speaking for myself, I felt less safe.

The Bad Guys

Well I had to ask some people I met, just to understand. Here is roughly how the conversations go;

Me: “Well it feels weird seeing people in public carrying guns”.
Them: “Yeah, we wouldn’t go out to eat without our gun.” What surprises me here is how matter of fact the responses are, no hint of irony or humour, it is just common sense.
Me: “Really? You take it to the restaurant with you?”
Them: “It comes everywhere.”
Me: “You think you need it all the time?”
Them: “Well you never know when the bad guy will come in, it would probably be the day I didn’t take it.”

I must admit, adults referring to somebody as “the bad guy” does seem a bit too close to Die Hard. However has we were discussing how nice Dim Sum was in Vancouver it amazed me that the person said “I’ve heard it is nice but I can’t go there, I’m not allowed to take my gun over the border.” It seems that the concern that we are surrounded by “bad guys” seems to descend very quickly into paranoia.

So My Thoughts

Well when wondering if the UK is safer than the USA and who is right , the pro or anti gun lobbyists, it occurs to me that I am moving to Canada and to be honest the views of an Englishman is the last thing an American wants or needs! Phew, a bullet dodged…maybe literally!

On a more important note the film we went to see was Divergent. It was a descent film to pass a couple of hours, but it has nothing on the Hunger Games trilogy in my opinion.

American, English

American, English

Something I have often experienced with a few people in the UK is that they can become a bit tetchy when it comes to the “Americanisation” of the English language. Yes Americans believe it or not, it really does bother some people that much. I may be simplifying the problem, but I think according to them troubled Brits, your exportation of TV, music and movies (or films in British) to us quaint folk is the reason that we do not speak like we belong in a Shakespeare play anymore. Hang your heads in shame, “more of your conversation would infect my brain.” (A bit of Will for you there).

Well for the sake of Anglo-English relations, I thought I should weigh in with my own experiences while in the US. Here are my results;

The Americanisation of Road Safety

Obviously driving is an important thing to get right. Just when I panic and shout “oh my God, we are on the wrong side of the road, I’m going to crash and die!,” I must remember that it is ok, they have chosen to drive on this side. As long as your steering wheel is not closer to the pavement than the road then I am ok.

But wait, an important lingo thing to get right here is what is meant by the words ‘pavement’ and ‘road.’ It seems that these words do not necessarily mean the same thing to our two countries, as I found out when Todd told me “to just drive along the pavement until you get to the traffic lights.” Yikes, I thought, you seem to be instructing me to cause carnage in your own neighbourhood. Well to my relief he actually he wasn’t. To him a ‘pavement’ is the ‘road,’ whereas I understood a ‘pavement’ to be what he calls a ‘sidewalk.’ I don’t think the word ‘road’ has become obsolete though.

Another word issue arose when I was asked to go and fill up the vehicle with “gas.” I believe this to be a sophisticated level of mind games by the Americans here, for in fact it is the liquid which we pour into our cars (sorry, automobiles) which they call ‘gas.’ Try to work that one out.

The Americanisation of Cuisine

Misunderstandings when it comes to food is a constant hazard where I must remain vigilant. I say this because today I was offered biscuits and gravy. Apparently this is a real American treat. However to my british mind this does not sound like a treat, it sounds pretty disgusting, and all my imagination can conjure is an image of digestives covered in bisto.

For info, digestives are a sweet-meal biscuit, I do not believe they aid digestion any more than any other normal cookie, but I stand to be corrected. While Bisto is a type of gravy to have with meat and vegetables, it is very tasty, but does not belong on biscuits or cookies. The problem for me here is us British people think a biscuit is what an American would call a cookie and a cookie in the UK is called….well that is still called a cookie too. In truth I really do not know how we Brits differentiate between a biscuit and a cookie. If anybody does know please feel free to fill me in. The American biscuit that was offered to me was actually made with soft dough and the gravy is a white flour gravy.

I have also found that croissants in the local supermarket do not come served as I have been used to. Over here they can be found in the refrigerator section prepared with sausage, egg and cheese awaiting to be heated and served. To be honest I think it is best we do not tell the French about this, I don’t think we want them to feel any distain for the US.


nom nom nom

Shopping for vegetables also require some tricky word substitutions to avoid blank looks and confused stares;

  • Coriander is called cilantro, this sounds quite agreeable.
  • A courgette is called a zucchini, this perhaps sounds preferable.
  • An aubergine however is called an eggplant, this sounds repulsive.

So Should People Worry About Americanisation?

Well in my opinion the short answer for this is no. This is because life is too short, and you can do nothing about it anyway, even if you do care. But it can be a source of great amusement, to compare our differences. So that is that.

The Odd Rules of Being British

You’re From London, Right?

It appears to be an inescapable fact, when words come out of my mouth in America they make me sound English. Actually people here assume that I am from London. I know this to be true because the first questions I am often asked by locals here are;

“love the accent, you’re from London, right?”
“we love the Royal family, do you see them in London?”
“you sound like the people on that TV show Downton Abbey, you know, set in old London” (Downton Abbey isn’t actually set in London, but it is set near where I come from in North Yorkshire. But I still do not think I sound like them).

Actually most people who are from the UK would hear my voice and conclude that I am not from London, and probably not from anywhere south of Birmingham for that matter. Explaining this to the people of the US however, is a more difficult task. Some people will look at me confused, while others will completely ignore my assertion and continue to ask me about London house prices, the cost of living in the capital or the dangers of London rioters. While people in America may have heard of Manchester or Liverpool, I can only assume many believe that they must merely be satellites of London.

The UK is Small

So why do people think I live so close to London? Well I have come to the conclusion that it is because I do. In the same time it might take me to drive from the north of England to London, I would just be able to get across the State of Washington. In fact I could get a train and be in London from York in 2 hours. People over here will drive for that amount of time for a good taco. Our island is small.

For that matter I believe that people in the US can probably drive anywhere, for anything, for no reason because they do not need directions. If somebody needs to go to San Francisco from Lynden then just go south on the I-5 for 900 miles and they will be there before they know it. However, as Sacha always tells me, in the UK we will argue for hours about shaving 2 minutes off a one hour journey. She will despairingly witness me and my dad arguing whether it is faster to go via a motorway or via shortcuts over country roads.

Also Sacha tells me that UK people always give direction starting from “the roundabout.” Wether it is a journey to the dentist or a visit to the next city, the directions always start with, “you go to the roundabout and turn…”

It is simply assumed that of the many thousands of roundabouts in the UK you will drive to the correct one and start your journey from there. The US prevent this problem by not having many roundabouts. In my opinion this is something we should consider in the UK.

The Odd Rules of being British

So  the USA is bigger than the UK and it has 50 states with numerous different climates and geographies. There are deserts, forests, mountains, canyons, lakes, snow and islands. I suspect it is because the US is so large that people here love to raise their national flag and sing their anthem to show that they are united.

In comparison the people in the UK are very peculiar about their identities. An extrovert showing of national fervour is often looked upon as being extravert to the point of embarrassment. British people will also seemingly show rivalry to anyone who will listen. Myself being from North Yorkshire, this is how it might work for myself;

  • I am from the Yorkshire, so I shouldn’t like Lancashire, our neighbouring county. The colour of our symbolic roses are somehow offensive to each other.
  • However Yorkshire and Lancaster are northern counties, and so we northerners are united in our distain of southerners for being “soft,” and because they probably think we are backwards and brusk.
  • However us Northerners and Southerners both shouldn’t like the Welsh, Scottish and Northern Irish, because they really don’t like us.
  • Our four countries form the UK and the UK does not want to be part of Europe because we do not want their colourful money, tasty cuisines and superior cultural tastes.
  • And finally, on rare occasions, us Europeans look at those Americans patriotically chanting U S A, U S A. So we must sing football chants at them back….just because.

The funny thing is, many people from the UK, or Europe will not miss an opportunity to mention how crazy those Americans are. I think shall reserve my judgement, my own back yard may not look so sane at the moment.


That’s my kind of crazy

Hello Seattle, I’m Listening

Well, if you have not worked it out from my title, I am a big fan of Frasier. Not a crazy obsessive fan I hasten to add, but myself and Sacha do have the box sets and each episode has been viewed on more than one occasion.

So for the unacquainted, what is it about? In a nutshell Frasier is a US sitcom set in the city of Seattle which is based around the escapades of two pretentious yet well meaning brothers, Frasier and Niles Crane, their down to earth father, Marty, plus several other cast members including a dog named Eddie. Most evenings before bed I enjoy tuning in to an episode or two, where their peculiar and competitive obsessions for status recognition  lead to shenanigans with hilarity and a hint of mirth. So now that we are in Washington it would seem to be a missed opportunity if we did not go and explore the Emerald City for ourselves and discover Frasier’s territory.



This is Frasier’s Territory Isn’t It?

OK well I suppose it is time to break the news. Stop reading this post if you wish to continue viewing the show in blissful ignorance, but the truth is Frasier was not filmed in Seattle. In fact there was only one episode which was filmed in Seattle, which was called ‘The 1000th Show.’ Even on this show the only location I could really pinpoint would be the Space Needle. So facing facts this means;

  • There is no Cafe Nervosa
  • KACL is not a radio station in Seattle
  • There is no Elliot Bay Towers where Fraiser’s apartment was based
  • And all the people in the show are actors pretending to be real people, I want to cry.

Actually when you come to think about it, there are very few Seattle locations referenced throughout the eleven seasons. There is in fact very little time that the show is not set in an indoor location, and when there was an outdoor location it was always in a nondescript location generally filmed in Los Angeles, not as I had believed, Seattle. I truly hope I can watch the show again and not feel that the lies taint my enjoyment.

So, what does Seattle have then? “An excellent symphony and world-class dining” and oh my god I am quoting Niles Crane, enough already.


The World-Class Dining

Actually I cannot vouch for the symphony but our experience of the cuisine was indeed first Class. We started our culinary adventure on 4th Avenue at a mediterranean restaurant called Lola, where we stopped for brunch. The food was great. Sacha ordered lamb kebabs and I beef kebabs. There could not have been a better start to our visit.

Later that day we booked ourselves into a seaside restaurant set on pier 56 called Elliot’s Oyster Bar. Sacha, who is crazy about Oysters, was in her element as she ordered six oysters for us to share, and then proceeded to order another six from the amused waiter. For me, however, the highlight was the main courses. Sacha had crab marinated in sweet chilli sauce and I had blackened rockfish cooked in creamed beluga lentils. It may be some of the best food I have ever tasted. Definitely put this place in your itinerary for a visit to Seattle.


Pike Place Market

When most people think about this place they probably imagine the fish sellers flinging the customers orders to each other across the market place. I didn’t in fact see this, I think  to initiate the process people have to actually buy the fish rather then stand around with cameras just waiting for the action to unfold. I wasn’t willing to purchase or wait, but the sellers chanting to the customers was entertaining and gave the market a great atmosphere.

There are in fact a lot of stalls at the market place and you can easily pass a couple of hours wondering these. Most entertaining to us was a man who was charging $1 to sit with people’s dogs while they entered some of the shops and stalls. The man, who I may be unfairly guessing was out of employment but was at least was showing some slight entrepreneurship to get his dollar, had the dog on his lap, and it couldn’t have looked any happier to have a new friend.


The Space Needle

Pictures describe the views from this much better than words. We went up at about 4pm and it was not at all crowded with tourists. At the top you could take in the view from inside the observation deck or walk on the platform outside to get a better picture. The platform gives you a chance to see the city from all angles, as you see the yachts at the Elliot Bay harbour, downtown Seattle and I could just make the outline of Mount Rainer which stands large over the city.


 Good Night Seattle…

So obviously we didn’t go and discover Fraiser and Niles’ haunts, but what we did discover Seattle. We saw the markets, the views and the homeless and the wealthy. It is a great city to visit and as Fraisier says, ” we love ya.”





Some Photos of the Nice Scenery, And Some With Us!

Well, we have been exploring Washington for a few days now, and I thought that rather than boring people by writing about how nice the hills are here, or the trees or the sea or blah blah blah, I would just post a few photographs. Some of them are of the scenery and some of them have us within the scenery. This is in fact a contentious issue between me and Sacha. I like to go to new places and take pictures of the nice scenery, while Sacha only sees the value of a photograph with somebody within it. At any given location the conversation normally goes as follows;

Sacha: “Geoff, what are you taking a photo of?”
Me: “I’m taking a picture of the scenery.”
Sacha: “What is the point? Take some photos of us, you can just google the scenery later, you’ll see a lot of pictures.”
Me: “That’s not the same, I like to take my own photos.”
Sacha: “Do you want me to get you a postcard? I’ll get you a postcard if that’s what you want.
Me: “That’s not what I want, I want to take my own photographs!”
Sacha: “Well if you want to take your own photos then why am I not in them?”
Me: “Because I just want a few pictures of the nice scenery.”
Sacha: “What nice scenery?…I am the scenery!”
And so the conversation will go on. I will then tell Sacha to stand in the scene, but to walk away from the camera as to make it look natural. Needless to say, no photograph with Sacha in it looks natural, this is just my time to take a few photos of the scenery while her back is turned. I hope she never finds out!
Blaine – This is an American town on the border with Canada.
White Rock – At the other side of the border in Canada is White Rock. Seemingly this place is named after a giant large rock, which is white and can be seen by the coast.
Walks and Trails – This area seems to be full of great places to walk. Most of these pictures are from the Oyster Dome Trail, off the Chuckanut Drive.
Mount Erie – This is a mountain overlooking Anacortes where we were able to drive our car up to the top. The road isn’t maintained during the winter months, but we were able to make it to the top without any problems.
Out And About – and here are some places, but we just don’t know exactly where.

Sacha’s Golden Homies

So we are in Washington, in March, and the first thing to observe here is that it rains, and it rains and then it rains some more. Apparently Washington is famous for it, or infamous, I don’t know which. Back in the UK I am sure there would be weather warnings and flood alerts by now. But we were not to be deterred.

People, Dogs and Llamas

We decided to ring the local Whatcom County office to ask for advice on local trails we could wonder. We were recommended a trail just off Chuckanut Drive, slightly north of Bellingham and were given a zip code to help us find it. So we put the zip code into our satnav, and let the annoying, and I believe to be moody female voice lead us the way. About half an hour later the sat nav voice (I have named Lorise) told us we had “arrived at your destination on the left.”

We hadn’t, Lorise was wrong. Firstly as we pulled onto a small track going uphill we were faced-off by a herd of llamas. This, I had not expected. Then suddenly a snarling, barking, vicious dog came running over to our car, then another, and then another. Now I’m no dog whisperer, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t want us to be there. The foaming mouths and big teeth indicated this. We then saw the owner stood by a trailer about 50 meters away, seemingly not concerned by the situation before him.

Well, I have heard about American residents’ penchant for ‘packing heat.’ I decided to turn and go forthwith. As I put the car into reverse I then looked over to Sacha, who had the window down and was photographing llamas, apparently unaware of the big doggies….’mental’ I thought.

We did find a track to walk further down the road, but it was wet and we did not go far before turning back. Besides there were crazy people with dogs about and…erm…llamas.


This be llama country.

Sacha’s Golden Homies

Well this story starts back last Christmas when my mother gave Sacha the gift of knitting needles and some balls of wool. Sacha, instead of suggesting that my mother may have confused her gift with my Grans gift, in fact looked excited, if not a bit ecstatic about what was to be her new hobby.

So for the next couple of months when we visited my parents’ house, she would sit on the Living Room couch with my mother learning to knit. As I watched TV it did feel as if I was sat in a retirement home. Worrying still, was the deranged expression on Sacha’s face as she knitted. Cross eyed, non blinking, she would knit holding her new project half a foot away from her face. She looked like she had found her drug of choice and my mother was the dealer,…I just hope they were not sharing needles.

The problem Sacha has however, is that if she makes a mistake she needs my mother to rectify it before she continues. Well to continue for this arrangement to work now, a transatlantic journey would need to be undertaken every other day. This is unfortunately, not practical.

So one evening in Washington we were playing pool in the Club House, when some old ladies started to trickle in. We said “hello” and in very stereotyped old American lady voices, told us that “Happy Hour” was about to begin.

Apart from one who was enjoying a white wine, it was probably more like “camomile tea hour”. They also told us that Tuesday was their weekly coffee morning at 10am. Well we smiled politely and said “we would try our best to make it” as if we were giving it a real consideration. Well thats what I thought anyhow. No, Sacha had spotted an opportunity to get to know some likely knitters or knitterers or whatever the plural is, who would be able to fix her dropped stitches. This addiction has a powerful grip.

So Tuesday came and I was rudely awoken, very early I will add, and dragged to the Club House. What followed was cringeworthy at best. As I practiced playing pool Sacha knitted, then a few minutes later the first of the elderly residents made their way in. Well Sacha looked up as if surprised by the sudden activity of old ladies and  exclaimed “oh of course, it is coffee time I forgot, I just came here to knit where it is quiet.”

Well for the next hour or so we sat around a table drinking coffee, eating delightfully sugary homemade cakes (all made with green food dye for upcoming St Patrick’s day) and playing a word game, which not everybody seemed to fully understand, myself included. In the end I left Sacha to mingle while I went to play some pool and where I was challenged for a game by Bert, who is clearly a man past the age of retirement. Bert seemed nice, if not slightly hard of hearing. I warned him we might have slightly different rules to each other, but I would ceed to his greater knowledge and play his rules.

We certainly did play with different rules. I had assumed he understood that I would play his American, or even local Lynden rules of pool. Not ‘Bert has to win by any old means’ rules which he seemed to excel with.

So I potted my first ball and before I could walk around the table for my next shot, Bert reached into the pocket and put the ball back on the table. I looked at him bemused, but he didn’t even make eye contact. OK I thought, maybe this happens over here I will go with it. So I potted another ball and Bert duly placed it back onto the table. When I missed the next ball Bert proceeded to pot one ball after the next, non of which he felt the need to place back on the table. It seems Bert may have retired from work but not from hustling the younger generations.

When we made our way back to our house, Sacha told me she had made some knitting connections to help her with her new scarf, and I.. well I just felt stitched up.



Some of the crew

Into Washington State

So my immigration papers are in order now and we are on our way from Vancouver to the American border to enter Washington. We had little problems at the border, I just had to buy a piece of green paper for $6.50, get a nice stamp in my passport and we were allowed into the USA. The landscape was quite flat and very rural, with many of the local enterprises geared towards farmers. In particular there is an abundance of cherry farms and vineyards and the farmers often come in the form of tobacco chewing, gun belt wearing, rootin’ and/or tootin’ cowboys.

Windmill Town

Within half an hour we arrived at our destination, Lynden. This is a town originally founded by Dutch settlers. To prove this is so, they have built windmills and placed windmill iconography all around the town.


Downtown Lynden

The community which Anna and Todd reside in sits on the outskirts of town, nearby fields and surrounded by spectacular snowcapped mountains which cover the horizon. Interestingly the estate only allows the residents to be over the age of 50. There is also a club house with facilities such as widescreen TV, kitchen, pool table, exercise bike, treadmill and much more.

This got Sacha thinking and she enquired, “is this place assisted living?”

“No we don’t live in assisted living” replied Todd and Anna in tandem.

“Really? it sounds like assisted living to me” continued Sacha.

“No, don’t be crazy we are not old people, we do not need to be assisted to live.”

“Why do you live in an old peoples’ place then?”

They are not all that old, and they live by themselves, the cleaner only comes around once every fortnight”

“You have a cleaner?!”

Pancakes and Crunchy Ravioli

The food I have had here so far has been amazing…wait…let me qualify that,… I am amazed at the food I have had here so far.

The first morning Sacha told me that we must go have breakfast at IHOP (International House Of Pancakes), as they do on TV, apparently. Well on route to Bellingham to have our first American breakfast Sacha was listing to me all the possibilities of toppings for pancakes and the array of sauces that I was about to enjoy. However, once we reached the establishment and were seated, we peered at the menu, (which had nice pictures of all their delicacies I may add), we saw that each option had a calorie count. We stared blankly at the menu looking through each option one by one, then around the room to look at what the locals were eating.

From what I could tell the calorie count is used by locals as a sort of point scoring system. Possibly the more points that a person gets, the more local they are? Well if that was the case the old man to our right eating a comedy styled cream pie was the clear winner, and most local by far with 2000+ points. I doff my cap sir.

For our next experience of dinning out, we decided to go european and elected for some Italian fare. So back to Bellingham we went to the local Italian restaurant.

Again we had a calorie count on the menu, and again we proved we were not locals by any means. However this is not what stuck out in my mind. What clings to my memory (and probably my colon) was our starter.

We went with the ravioli and calamari option. It seemed an unconventional combo, but I am no food snob. Having said that I was not prepared for the deep-fried food that was landed on our table. Yes, OK , calamari should be deep-fried, this is correct, this is good, just how all squid should be served in my opinion. Deep-fried ravioli however,…well I’m guessing that this delicacy was not inspired from mama’s kitchen in some quaint sun-drenched village sat on the outskirts of Bologna, brought over to America perhaps by an immigrant farmer who dreamt of introducing his Italian culture to the States where he could make a big buck. This does seem unlikely.

So as I crunched on my ravioli I sat wondering how my spaghetti Bolognese was going to be presented.


Crunchy ravioli, mama mia!

Discovering America?

First Things First

My body clock woke me up bright and early at 4am this morning. Sacha’s didn’t. So as she slept peacefully in the hotel bed I was left alone to work out how the coffee maker works,.. in the dark I hasten to add. It took me a good half hour, but finally I discovered that the water goes in the maker itself and doesn’t just sit in the jug waiting for magic to happen. Now I could sit alone in the dark feeling at least a modicum of smugness at my early morning achievement,….now where does the actual coffee go?

Getting My Papers

Well the reason we were in Canada today was to pick up my papers from the solicitor’s office so I could be made a Permanent Resident. Our appointment was at 10am, so at 9, along with Todd and Anna we set off to wait in a Starbucks so that I could remove the taste of pale brown water from my mouth (I hadn’t successfully mastered the coffee maker).

Then finally it was time to collect my papers. What a moment. After starting the process about 9 months ago I could finally hold the paper in my trembling hands which allow me to be a Permanent Resident. It made all the hard work and effort seem worthwhile.

Ok, when I say hard work and effort we did pay for a solicitor to do the paper work….and all the worrying, the questions I wouldn’t even think to ask, and organising was done by my wife Sacha. But in my defence I had to hear about it. And if I had wanted to change my name during this time, I couldn’t. But the truth is I am a spoilt kid and owe gratitude to Sacha for seeing me through. We duly went to Richmond outside of Vancouver to celebrate this with Dim Sum and to discuss our plans for staying in America for the next few weeks with Todd and Anna.

So What Do I Know About the United States of America?

Well from my school days I remember that it is a country which has been “discovered.” This seems particularly interesting to me. I don’t ever remember being taught that Britain had ever been discovered, I guess it’s always just been ‘covered.’

I remember the primary school teacher mentioning the name Christopher Columbus as the man who is credited with the discovery. A few years later I understood that Inspector Columbo was a different man altogether. And just one more thing, since then I heard that Vikings discovered America first before him,.. Christopher that is.

We had Vikings in Britain too, and I would have assumed that a discovery must have been made for them to find it, but no, if you put this in your history school exam you would be marked wrong. Vikings apparently raided Britain, perhaps even pillaged Britain, but are no way credited with discovering Britain. As far as I can see no one is.

Recalling my history classes Britain had Normans from France, Saxons from Germania even Romans from Italy, and all of these are only credited with invading Britain. Plus the native people before these empires were known purely as Ancient Britains. It’s as if Britain has never been unknown. America itself had very ancient people, the old Native American tribes who lived there undiscovered for many centuries. It almost seems careless, nay impossible, that they lived in a country without themselves having discovered it first. I guess they were just unlucky.

Well today I shall discover America for myself as we travel south to Lynden, in Washington State. , or must I be raiding it?….I don’t think pillaging is applicable here.


On the road.