Sunday, May 04, 2008

bus trips.

I have not put anything up in over a month. I have written some things, but I'm busy teaching and video taping and I've already got other things that are falling far behind schedule. Sorry if you are annoyed and some sort of fan of this humble little blog. I'll try to be more better in the future.

A couple of weeks ago… maybe a bit more by now, I left Saltspring Island.

I took the ferry to Vancouver, spent a night with an old and wise friend who taught me to drink scotch, which is a very fine thing.

From there, I left before anyone else and caught the greyhound bus to Hinton, Alberta.

Bus travel in Western Canada, seems to belong, largely to the poor and desperate. This is a shame and probably due to every person owning a pick up truck and a well paying job of some sort.

My bus mates were the usual collection of bus types.

Two teen age girls, merrily running away from home and unwisely took the three seats across the back thinking that it was some sort of lounger. The silly girls did not realize that those seats do not recline and are positioned at the smelliest possible location, kitty corner to thrill free bathroom with strange blue liquid sloshing about and a sink, utterly useless without even the hint of a tap or any running water.

Several men of dubious looks also take this bus. All, without exception, have t shirts with drawings of animals prominently displayed, mostly eagles, wolves and bears. Most had the feel of crystal meth, but I am saying that without real experience into what a crystal meth addict looks like. Maybe they are merely unhealthy and heading to the next work camp. Most also wore trucker caps given as a safety awards from various oil and forestry related industries.

The saddest of all bus folk though are the grandmas heading to some small interior BC town to visit ungrateful grandkids waiting only to receive gifts.

Sadder even than this is Grandmothers returning from such visits having far exceeded their welcome and provided the wrong sort of gift for ungrateful grandkids. Kids never fully appreciate the value of a hand made sweater with a large eagle, wolf or bear on it.
You can tell these two subtly different groups of grandmas from the air of hope or defeat.

None of this got me down though. I am on a long and involved adventure for the first time in over a year.

1 comment:

Wilma said...

Yay! You're back.