And Here We Have Idaho

As a note, that title is actually the Idaho State Anthem. Nice.

The long silence on this blog (6 days, comparatively long) was due to Puyallup being a psychotically busy residency. There was a lot to do, a huge cast, extra workshops, and the fact that the Seattle/Tacoma area has a ridiculous highway system that made every supply run an exercise in clock watching. It was kind of a shame, as there seemed to be a lot of stuff in the area worthy of interest, including a comic shop and a used book store in downtown Puyallup. Oh well. We ate pretty well, as the Puyallup area had a nice variety of restaurants, I got my requisite Thai food.

It is unlikely that life will ever take me back to Puyallup, but I can imagine far worse fates.

So, funny kid story. This actually happened. There is a piece of choreography in our show where all the kids are supposed to raise their hands towards a single actor in the middle. It's a nice image most of the time, and the actor in the middle is supposed to just soak it in. This time, however, the one in the middle sees everyone raising their arms and thinks he has to as well. And since he doesn't know which way to raise it, everyone to his right is raising their left arms towards him and everyone to his left is raising their right arms towards him, he sticks his right arm straight out.

Now, this is some complicated explanation, but I'll break down what it looked like: a kid standing on a box with an adoring crowd while he made a "zieg heil" salute. Whoops.

I have officially lost my sense of wonder regarding what these kids are capable of. I get reminded on show days, when parents tell me they had no idea their kids could pull off something like this. It's a twofold answer. First, no one gives kids enough credit, particularly regarding their ability to learn fast. Second, children with no experience in the theater have no conception that putting a full scale musical together in a week is impossible, so they just do it.

And that was Puyallup. I'm liking the Northwest so far. The people are quite kind, and it has a heck of a lot more scenery than the Midwest did. Not that I don't like corn, but one craves variety every so often. So now I'm in Marsing, Idaho. Having only seen it by dark, I can't say too much, but it seems to be a farming town. Actually, I think we're back to corn. This is fine, because it's October and I want to find a corn maze. Maybe a hay ride.

Idaho, by the way, was somewhere I'd always imagined as flat, with potatoes and maybe some hills. This is wildly inaccurate, as driving through the state seemed to consist entirely of hair-raising mountain passes till we got down (literally) to Marsing.

Now, I sleep. This was a looooong drive, particularly after the last few weeks spoiled us with short drives.

Working Hard, Not Hardly Working

It's a strange job I have. On some days, I'm in the middle of nowhere, with a ton of free time on my hands. I have 4 and 1/2 hours of work and then have to amuse myself in a town of 1500 with two restaurants and a stoplight. Sometimes, like today, I work over 12 hours, with a densely populated, very interesting seeming corner of Washington State, just south of the Tacoma/Seattle area, just in my far too busy to appreciate it grasp. Oh well.

Today I did 5, count 'em, 5 workshops for the kids. They were all the same workshop too, a workshop demonstrating the wonders of stage makeup. The school principal also nixed my specialty, a set of zombie makeup. Oh well. I completely understand not wanting that particular phone call from a parent. It just meant that I had to get rather creative and try some new stuff. This took a lot of different forms, experimenting with effects makeup, making kids up like The Incredible Hulk, and in a couple memorable cases, making Kindergartners up like David Bowie and Gene Simmons. I even varied the approach: a kid in one session got the big Ziggy Stardust lightning bolt, while another got the Labyrinth look. I was actually kind of proud of how they turned out.

Five makeup workshops were immediately followed by a full 4.5 hour rehearsal. It's weird, it never rains but it pours. We went entire weeks this summer where no one wanted any workshops, and now they want 6 (another one on Friday). Not complaining, mind you, I do get paid extra after all. And really, the makeup workshops were quite fun. It's just that somewhere around the 10 hour mark my brain, reflecting perhaps on recent events, tried to recover its balance, and the thought "you're not as young as you used to be" flashed across my mind.

I usually don't write specifically about the kids in this blog. I'm eager to not offend anyone who may come across it, and even the most gentle of sarcastic comments or complaints may be seen as a dire insult. I don't want to give that image, since most kids are really a joy to work with. In this case, however, I've got to write about how bright these kids are. We've only had one group younger than this, but this has been one of our most dedicated and enthusiastic casts, very fun to have around.

Strange that my "crazy busy day" is the one where I make two blog posts. Odd.

Belated Own Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday abroad. A chance to celebrate the not-so-interesting age of 26. Now since I am 1000 miles away from the nearest person I know, the celebrations were limited to me, Starry, and my phone. Special thanks to Facebook for a huge number of birthday wishes.

So here I am in Puyallup, WA, where yesterday I had my second biggest audition of my career: 105 children. We could have cast the show twice. As it stands, we wound up with a very strong cast of K-6 students. We've also run into a place that is almost bizarrely organized. These guys almost seem to know the job better than I do. All contingencies are accounted for, all aspects are planned, everything works, it's crazy.

Also, they want us to do the makeup workshop 6 times.

I've started to vary the approach just to keep it interesting for myself..

Later today, I'm making a kid look like David Bowie.

Goodbye Canada! For 4 weeks.

Well, here I am, last night in Canada. Tomorrow, it's back across the border and on to Puyallup, WA. For those of you following along at home, that's "Pooh-All-Up" as near as I can tell.

Tonight was both of our Whistler shows. It was also to be a trip up to Pemberton to revisit my awesome homestays up there, but alas, in a move that should be a surprise to no one I managed to make a series of flaky mistakes rendering it impossible. Very sad.

I'm going to miss Canada. I mean, I'll be back in 4 weeks, but still. All three cities I've stayed in have been great in their own way. I wish I'd had a bit more time to see Whistler when one is meant to see Whistler, either 1 month ago or 1 month from now, and I wish I'd had more money to enjoy Vancouver, and that I had more time in Pemberton. All in all, though, it's been a good 3 weeks up here.

I come to places expecting to be able to generalize about them, for positive or negative. To be able to say "the French are real jerks," or "people from North Dakota are really nice." Why I would come to these places expecting that is beyond me, as I can't generalize like that back home, with its even balance of saints and assholes. BC has proven the same, it's a mix. To go to Canada expecting every single person you meet to be a friendly, helpful, and welcoming is to set yourself up for disappointment. That being said, BC is running a tie right now for friendliest state/province I've traveled to on this trip, sitting equal with the very friendly people of North Dakota. AND, British Columbia beats North Dakota on "places I'd like to go back to" on the virtue of actually having scenery rather than barren flatness.

On an only slightly related note, check out the awesome hat that the parents in Whistler gave me.





That's right boys and girls, I've got a Jayne hat. And a doofy expression, but what do you want, it's my webcam.

See you stateside!

Whistler

Whistler is a town a lot of Americans might remember. It was the site of just about any event requiring a mountain during the 2010 Winter Olympics. And trust me, if you had forgotten, just drop on by to Whistler and you will see constant reminders. It's on all the signage, it's on half the buildings, the stores all still have the merchandise, as do most of the residents.

Whereas, most of the time, Pemberton felt like a quiet, sleepy mountain village. Whistler is almost bustling with activity. It's like someone put an upscale suburb (think Clayton, MO) on top of a mountain 80 miles from the nearest metropolitan area. The population, as well, seems significantly more busy in addition

Today, however, was the first day i got to see why so many people go to Whistler. We've been covered in rain and fog for the last couple of days, and a visibility of 20 feet is not conducive to the appreciation of mountain scenery. I finally got to see the mountains and the well sculpted ski-trails today.

I've never seen a place so devoted to the tourist trade. The over-abundance of navigation signs, making the assumption that most people on a given road have never been there and such a concentration of hotels, restaurants, and little touristy shops like one rarely sees in such a small town. To make another comparison, it's the mountain village version of a Fisherman's Wharf or Navy Pier.

Right now, I'm staying in a suite of sorts. Many of the homes have attached, separate suites which get rented out to tourists. It's a little bedroom with attached kitchen. I've been experimenting with cooking, mostly taking the form of Thai kits and Kraft dinner.

There really isn't much of interest to report, though we did have to stop the truck while a bear crossed the highway. According to one of the locals, "you never quite get used to it." I've mostly been relaxing after the hectic latter end of my Vancouver stay. Also the schools want a lot of workshops and need coordination, we are actually working three elementary schools.

Alright, I'm off. Time for rehearsal.

An Ode to the Cambie Hostel

I'm glad I stayed here.

There are any number of reasons. Good location, affordability, comfy beds. But the real value has been the interesting people I've met. To wit:

-3 German tourists offering conversation and bear spray
-An Australian nurse from Melbourne, looking to work in Canada
-An Australian SCUBA instructor, also from Melbourne, touring around most of North America in one very long go.
-A German accountant, looking to work in a Canadian hotel.
-A German student on her way home from working in a Canadian hotel.
-A pair of girls from Ecuador and Japan, both studying English.
-Their Swiss friend. Also studying. Them.
-A Swiss tourist, who talked about his government provided Swedish assault rifle.
-An Irishman touting the wonders of Jameson.
-A former member of the Singapore armed forces, looking for work in the same field as my mom.
-An American college student with a bad haircut, in the middle of an existential crisis.
-An extremely friendly Quebecois musician, with a gift for making friends with everyone.
-An extremely intense Australian "bogan" (redneck) with too many tattoos, trying to get to Cuba.
-A verbose, friendly Quebecois filmmaker
-An American from Washington D.C., showing off his photos from Washington state.
-An Englishman who kept trying to throw pennies into everyone's drinks.

And that's just off the top of my head.

Now, will I miss the mice? No. The nails in the floor? Of course not. The noisy drunks at 3 am? Never.

Would I come back next time I passed through Vancouver? In a heartbeat.

Perhaps I didn't do the full Vancouver tourist round. I never saw the aquarium. I never went to the art museum. I took a three hour bus ride to do "The Grind" today and it was CLOSED. (Very Griswold family vacation). But I feel like I got a much more intimate glimpse at the life of the city. More than that, at the Cambie, I got a chance to see not just Vancouver, but the world through the eyes of it's fascinating and varied clientele.

I think Americans have the wrong idea about hostels. They are "sketchy" or "cheap". They are places where people get knifed or robbed. But I really came to enjoy it. It's a setup full of travelers. And since we are all mixed together, we get to meet each other. So much better than languishing alone in a hotel room.

So, here's to the Cambie. I love it. But I hope it's not too unique. I can only hope the rest of the world has places like it.

A Night On the Town...Sort of

Last night, after having more or less wasted the better part of the day, I decided to really take advantage of the evening. Finding that the other long term stays at the hostel all had plans that evening, I opted to wander on my own.

Big surprise, I know. The story of this week has essentially been "Ted wanders around Vancouver for a week."

But things happened. My wanderings took me to Granville Street, the seeming center of Vancouver nightlife. Tons of bars and clubs and theaters. As I had arrived a bit too early in the evening, the "night life" hadn't really picked up yet. But there was one big crowd on one side of the street.

It would seem that I had wandered into the VIFF, the Vancouver International Film Festival. All month, theaters throughout Vancouver are showing independent films from across the world. It was pretty cheap, so I gave it a look. I wound up seeing an import from Great Britain, Down Terrace. This was a slick movie. It's 50% Guy Ritchie (Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels or Snatch) and 50% Cheech and Chong. Sort of. It defies description and told a story that I really hadn't seen or heard before. I'd recommend it, but I have the sad feeling that it will drift away, never to be heard from again. The world is full of little movies, made on a shoestring by small groups that, even if they're good, simply fail to take off. Regardless, an excellent night at the movies.

Not much else to say, really. I also explored a few of the other places on Granville, but nothing really came of it. Observed some material for a story I'm gradually puttering along about writing. The people watching in these places is amazing. I shocked a girl who was told to dance with me on a dare. I think she was expecting me to rub up on her like some kind of dog in heat and instead I pulled her into my half remembered Lindy moves. Wound up garnering some not unpleasant attention and pulled me out of my occasionally awkward observer role.

It's fun the odd little skills that being an actor has helped me acquire. If techno songs ever were in 3/4 time I'd have waltzed with someone. For the most part, being a stranger in town kind of sucks. Lone males are, perhaps justifiably, eyed with suspicion by all. Still, it's a good way to break out of a shy mentality. If I introduce myself to random people, as I must to keep myself from cracking up with only the internet to keep me company, they either accept me, ignore me, or tell me to f*** off. And if they do the last two? So what? I'm out of town in three days.

Number 3 has only happened the once. And I wasn't even talking to him. Actually it was just this psycho in the park who was mostly talking to himself.

...There are a lot of crazies kicking around here.

Why, yes legs, I do remember that I walked all day yesterday

Uggghhh.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I should remember that I am not in the shape I once was, and more to the point, that I was never in that great a shape to begin with.

Take yesterday's little walking adventure. As of my yesterday afternoon post, I had walked halfway across the city. Twice. And wandered for a couple miles of trail in the park. Immediately after posting I walked halfway across the city again, went to the same park, walked until sunset (a very beautiful sunset, into the bay and sinking into the mountains of Vancouver Island), and then walked halfway across the city back to the hostel. Needless to say, I've done some brighter things in my life.

I woke up this morning with my calves and knees urgently reminding me that I walked around 25 km yesterday. As if I had forgotten.

Well worth it, though. The second leg was around the perimeter at high tide, somewhat dull on the eastern side, with nothing to look at but the city and the water, but the far side of the park begins to become more rugged, with cliffs looking out at the inlet and rocky beaches and paths cut into the base of the cliff. It's all very cool. I even took pictures. Due to...technical difficulties, they're on my facebook account for now.

Meeting more interesting hostel residents. This time around, it was another German, I only meet Germans out here it seems. Nice lady from Köln, she even joined me for dinner.

Speaking of food, time to go hunting for lunch. I'm hoping to see more of the city, but I've still got a few more days for that, and my legs are killing me. Another relatively sedentary day may be in order here.

But at least I had breakfast...

This is the story of a failure.

This morning I had the opportunity to demonstrate what a spontaneous, adventurous person I am, and failed utterly.

As I was waiting for my breakfast to come at the little cafe next to the hostel, the schön Deutsches Fraulein staying on my floor, happened to walk in. On her way out, she said she was going to Stanley Park, and wasn't I going too, and would I like to accompany her? In a spirit of adventure, I said that I was waiting for my breakfast, would she care to wait for just a moment? Alas, she had already eaten. Maybe I would see her at the park? Maybe.

Now this isn't some kind of lost love, oh I just let the girl of my dreams slip through my fingers kind of thing. Hardly. I'm not so desperate or crazy as that. Still, I could have had a traveling companion through the park, one from a culture which interests me, and who I know I share some interests with. And all I had to do was skip breakfast and give up on the $2.75 it had cost me. Here comes adventure, there goes adventure. Oh well.

I soon learned that the idea of running into someone, at random, in the park was nigh inconceivable. The park is huge, the largest municipal park in Canada, covering an entire peninsula at the end of Vancouver. Walk for five minutes into it and you forget you're in a city. There's a walk around the perimeter of the peninsula, some 8 km long, which I opted to skip, as it was low tide (low tide stinks). So I got to go through this primeval set of forest. Tall trees with the sunlight creeping through. They actually describe it as a temperate rainforest. It's really great. I'm planning on going back in just a few minutes. I think it's high tide now.

Would have been more fun with another person, though.

The less I'm doing, the more time I have to write about it

It's hard to be unhappy in a Canadian city. At least if you're me. The reason is a very simple one.

Jaunty Canadian walk signs.

Wherever the dude on the walk sign is going, he is absolutely thrilled to be going there. Look at the upturned toes, at the energetic set of his arms. This is not a walk sign, this is a strut sign.

Last night I took a walk around the waterfront. The hostel is right next to the part of the harbor where the cruise ships dock. It's really a beautiful city. I wish I had more money, because I kept walking past really nice smelling, but rather expensive restaurants. Today should be my last day of aimless wandering, reading, and writing. Staring at pigeons and reading Proust (no, really) may be good for the soul, but I could have done that in Missoula for cheaper.

I mentioned yesterday the odd feeling of being an American abroad. I couldn't quite put my finger on it then, and it's still a little elusive, but I'm going to try again.

Basically, everyone has an opinion on America: American politics, American culture, American celebrities. If you asked me for an opinion on Canadian politics, whether I thought the Liberals or the Conservatives had a better policy, or whether I thought the Bloc Quebecois had strayed from its separatist roots, I would shrug and say I had no idea. Most people here have a good idea of what's going on in the American political system, and they have an opinion.

The Canadians seem to regard us like you might look at a twin brother, who gets a lot more attention, and while you're a little jealous, you're mostly relieved that you're not getting all the bad attention. The metaphor is a little off. Jealous isn't the right word.

Can't put my finger on it. What a failure I am, can't summarize a whole culture after a week and a half.

Tomorrow, then.

Pictures!

A few select pictures from Pemberton:

My lovely host family, Angela and Jason, in front of dramatic Mt. Currie. Ignore the power lines.





The beautiful Pemberton valley. My chintzy cell phone camera does not do it justice.



And that's me. Yep, it's my proof. I was there. I climbed a mountain, a small one, to get a look at another, bigger mountain.

The trail we were hiking to reach all these scenic vistas had the amazing title of "Lumpy's Epic." It was a few miles long, maybe 4 or 5, not sure. Mostly forests that then opened up on huge scenic looks at the mountain. It's amazing what you can get used to. The kids around here have no idea they are surrounded by truly epic natural beauty. I couldn't walk out of the elementary school without a part of my brain going, "oooo...mountains."

This is my second mountain in four months after joining the company. What is happening to me.

Morning of the friendly Germans

This morning, I awoke to the rustling of bags and conversation in German.

I am presently staying in an 8-bunk, dorm style room, which I shared last night with one Canadian (from Ontario, I think) and three Germans on holiday from University. I'm saddened, though, as this is to be their last day before flying back. They all seemed like nice guys. They also were giving away stuff that they didn't want to take with them. This included a nice fabric bag, some bottled water, and bear spray.

After checking the ingredients, I discovered that bear spray is essentially MACE with a bear on the can. Hence the can's advice to aim for the eyes, then run.

Now, why did I think it advisable to take the bear spray? Because in British Columbia, bears are a pest species. Back in St. Louis it was deer and rabbits, here it's bears. In fact, when I was in Pemberton, the family I was staying with advised me to make sure I was making noise if I was walking back late, as it would scare the bears away. The bears had been coming up to the house and stealing apples off the tree. My host told the story that he had been in the tree one day, picking apples, when he noticed that there was a bear cub in the tree with him.

And I will only be going to more isolated pockets of BC, inclining me to think that I haven't heard my last bear warning. And who knows what kind it will be. Apparently the most common kind are relatively harmless black bears, but some people talk of seeing grizzlies. Unlikely? Sure. Would I buy bear spray? No, of course not. Am I going to turn it down when offered? Also no. Besides, it probably works on muggers too. Also, since it's apparently just capsaicin (the active ingredient in chili peppers) maybe I'll just use it to spice up some of the blander food I come across.

Time to breathe and think

Here I am in the Vancouver Public Library. I have a power outlet that my increasingly fussy laptop doesn't give up on. I have a reliable internet connection. I have a comfy chair and nothing but time.

At present, I am staying at the Cambie Hostel, in the middle of Vancouver's Gastown District. I would identify the whole place as a having a kind of touristy skeazyness to it. It reminds me a bit of Camden Town in London. There is a huge variety of people, from foreign tourists of all descriptions, eccentric locals, and a complete set of vagrants and panhandlers. These are the most conversational panhandlers I've ever met, they walk with you a way, give unsolicited directions and advice, then ask for a dollar. Were I not broke, I'd even consider it.

Vancouver has a lot to do, it seems. Museums, ferries, shopping, and restaurants. However, the nature of my visit here requires frugality, so I'm gonna do the research before I start making choices.

Speaking of money, the dollar coins all have ducks on them. Or Loons, I suppose. People here really do refer to them as "Loonies" without a trace of irony. It's a little difficult to not snicker when having to seriously refer to money matters and "counting our loonies."

I'm going to do a bunch of separate posts now, break this down into manageable chunks.

First: The Germans

So long Pemberton, Hello Vancouver

The internet at the house I was staying in decided that the week I was there was the week to go on the fritz, so I had very little posting that I was able to do. It will have to be all at once then.

Pemberton, as it turned out, was absolutely beautiful. We were in a mountain valley, with big, impressive mountains on all sides. The mountains there were actually more dramatic and impressive than those surrounding Missoula. I even got the chance to spend Saturday hiking in the mountains with my homestay family.

My internet is still crappy, in fact, it's somewhat worse. But I have more patience with it at the moment due to a lack of much else to do. I also have some good photos and stories, but I can't seem to upload them without my connection giving up on me.

Changing my mind. This won't be all at once. Tomorrow, I will find a library or an internet cafe and do this right. I hope. $24 a day, Canadian. What do I expect for a pittance?