I may have mentioned in an earlier post that we like to take a big red bus tour of new cities on the day of arrival. Why, you ask? Well, we are usually tired after a long plane ride and struggling to stay awake to avoid jet lag. The bus driver does all the navigation. No thinking is required on our part. We scope out the city and get our bearings. I find tourist maps make a lot more sense when I can visualize the landscape. We get a good sense of neighborhoods this way. It helps us figure out where we may want to spend more time (or less). As a bonus, there is also usually a recorded narration that tells us a little about the history of the spaces. We are nerdy like that.

On today’s adventure, we take a taxi to Canada Place. I am exhausted and just need to let someone else navigate until I get my bearings. We are taking a cruise ship from this dock in a few days, so it is helpful to see the pier and entrances. I’m a planner like that. My husband finds it both helpful and annoying. Depends on the day really.

But the real reason we are here is to catch the city tour bus. We buy tickets at a kiosk and are sent up the street to the loading zone. The big bus is busy. World Cup crowds make everything seem hectic. We wait in the shade until our turn to board.

There is a lot of traffic for a Sunday, making this the slowest bus route of my life. It is an older city. I feel like I am trapped in the 1960’s. Areas near the water are gorgeous. Other areas seem run down and seedy. I think it is so very much like being at home that I am not overly impressed. (Vancouver is lovely. Just not so different than an American mid-sized city.) It is throwing mid-west grit vibes.

Two hours later, we depart the bus and walk to Gastown. This area near a train station and the cruise docks is full of tourist shops and restaurants. But the area gets its name from a working steam clock. Every 15 minutes, the clock plays a tune amid a puff of steam. The tourists flock here with their selfie sticks. Everyone wants a picture. A few apparently are shooting a full blown documentary. To each their own.

I shop in the quaint, quirky, and tacky tourist centric shops that line the avenue. We buy donuts at a fabulous local bakery to take home for breakfast.

Most of all, I enjoy the cooler temperatures and the afternoon breeze. Travel has a way of reducing all of my stress and allowing me to be fully in the moment. And in this moment, trees, brick sidewalks and sunshine have my full attention.

Having rested on the bus ride around town, fortified myself with a burger amidst a World Cup watching crowd, and shopped away the late afternoon, I am now ready to tackle public transport. We decide to take the train to marine station. That will get us close to Marpole and our lodgings.

The metro train is clean, efficient and easy to use. Within a short time, we find ourselves at marine station looking at a giant statue of what I assume is someone important in Vancouver’s history. All I can say for sure is that he is an old white guy in 19th century clothing doing an impression of “the thinker”. As interesting as that is we need to determine whether to walk or to find a bus.

I decide I want to walk (I know this shocks no one). I want to get a feel for the neighborhood. We walk through a park and residential neighborhoods. The flowers in random yards are incredible. The size and color of the hydrangeas make me want to weep. At home I have one puny plant that I baby. For this I have had exactly five blooms in ten years. Sigh. I will dream of these blooms.

We are almost back to our place and we decide we should get food. I am not really hungry, but getting hungry later would be a disaster since we have no groceries for this short stay and things are closing early on this Sunday evening. The area appears to be an Asian enclave. Lucky for me, because I love Asian food.

We find a local restaurant and enter. The owner sits at a table folding napkins and ignores us. She chats with a friend. I get up to get a menu. She gets up and says, “I bring.” She does things in her own time. We smile and wait.

At this point, I notice the table cloth. It is covered in what I can only describe as tasteful nude poses of eggs. Egg yolks to be exact. What in the world? This is really funny because almost 24 hours ago, we started this day getting mooned by a man sleeping on the ground in the airport entrance. I start to giggle. It is hard to order. I am officially slap happy.

It is really, really hot in the restaurant. Which is weird, because it is pleasant outdoors. The food is good, but it is too hot in here to eat. And the egg yolks are disturbing. I think they are mocking me. We get to/go boxes and go.

Vancouver is honestly not what I expected. The rental house wasn’t what I thought we were getting. The neighborhoods are somehow more “normal” than I expected (whatever that means). The naked egg yolks were something no one would ever expect to see (that is another level of crazy). And yet, sometimes normal, with moments of hilarity is just what we need. I love Canada. Let the adventure begin.