Vancouver

My host and his son left early this morning to their respective jobs, the son to go teach little kids how to ride at bike camp believe it or not, leaving me alone to sleep in a little. After getting around, what does a bicyclist do for his day off from long distance biking? Go for a bike ride obviously. After some deliberation, I decided my day's adventure would be to bike up to Stanley Park and then visit the aquarium there. I got about halfway there, into downtown Vancouver, when I noticed a disturbing wobble to my back wheel. Sure enough, the tire pressure was low. I noticed no signs of thorns or tire damage, so I pumped it up and hoped maybe somehow it would hold. It became quickly obvious that wasn't happening. And of course, while I had my tools and pump on my bike, to make my life easier, I had left my backpack at my host's house, and with it my spare inner tubes. It was a slow enough leak that I had thoughts of reaching the aquarium and then coming home by way of occasional stops to pump up.

But I decided against that when I realized how troublesome it would be, and went in search of a bike shop. ...This proves to be a lot harder to do when you have no data and can't just ask your phone to tell you where one is. So, I had to do that crazy thing no one does these days anymore, and ask actual people. ...I imagine if you're looking for a Tim Horton's or Walmart or what not that works out fine, but sadly even bicyclists didn't seem to know how to steer me toward a bike shop downtown. Eventually, I was directed to a bike rental shop, which is apparently a functional business in Vancouver, people renting bicycles by the droves to go bike through Stanley Park and other trails. They also had inner tubes though, which was all that mattered to me. Partially my lazy loathing of changing my back tire and my and part my uncertainty of the location of the leak, I paid the guy a little to change it for me too. He couldn't find the leak either, thought it may have been the valve. Regardless, the new inner tube has been holding fine, so all seems well.

But, I realized it had gotten a little late for the aquarium, at least the way I like to do aquariums (especially when they cost me $25). So, I decided against it and just to explore and bike around Stanley Park instead. I don't regret that choice. The park is awesome, and really, if you've got just one day to see a city, that day shouldn't be spent inside some building; it should be spent out and about in the city itself. It was a good ride, though an exercise in patience sometimes too. The bike trail is one way because of all the traffic it gets, and many people on it are inexperienced, leisurely cyclists who bike at a painfully slow pace, either side by side with a partner or weaving erratically to block the whole path, and don't really respond to calls of "on your left". I took a detour from the shore path to go up the road to Prospect Point, and that was a nice change in pace and a view well worth the climb.

After biking around for a time, I eventually worked my way back to the house. Knowing my host and his son wouldn't be back until 5, I made the slightly awkward decision to throw all my limited clothes in the combined washer/dryer, as in the ones off my back too, and go shower with nothing clean to change into but a pair of underwear. Ever sat around in underwear and a towel in the home of people you met yesterday, hoping they don't come home early? This is why for my trip down the coast I will have three sets of clothes rather than two.

After that I decided to go out to somewhere to eat along Fraser Street. My last hosts told me I ought to find a Chinese place where I couldn't read anything, and to turn around if I saw a single white person in the place. I guess I'm just not that adventurous. Honestly, my hesitancy is my vegetarianism and worrying that if I can't read the menu or communicate with my waiter I will accidentally order something with meat. I worry enough about it in some American style restaurants. If I could know it would be vegetarian without question, I probably would be fine ordering something with no clue what it is. As it is, I went to the A2 Cafe, a place advertising its food as Canadian and Chinese (hey, both are foreign countries to me). I got a veggie soup and veggie burger (yeah, I know, I'm safe and predictable).

Afterwards I just wandered about the area for awhile. I thought I'd watch the sunset at Sunset Park, as it seemed fitting. But ironically, there's not a very good view thanks to the Sunset Ice Rink. As a bit of brilliant luck though, I stumbled on a gel bike seat cover in nice condition just lying on the sidewalk. I had kind of wanted one of those. I had considered buying one, but felt like a wimp for it. But when I happen to just find one lying around, well, that seems like providence.

My host is originally from South Africa. He told me he moved away because he wanted to live somewhere that he could be unafraid without living behind a gate, where the disparity was not so great as to breed the desperation that is at the heart of most criminality. When we talked about bike touring he told me that people who tried to bike across Africa were usually unsuccessful, because if they had a bike nice enough to do it, it probably would get stolen out from under them. It was a poignant reminder how well off we have it here, in either the US or Canada. It's a wonderful thing being able to trust and be trusted by people the way I've been able to, to use programs like Couchsurfing, to have someone open their home to me, to even give me a key to come and go in their absence, and likewise, for me to trust them to actually let me in upon arriving at what could be some random address in a foreign country.

I can understand how some people couldn't fathom that kind of trust. His ex-wife, who was here briefly yesterday and longer today, suffers some serious paranoia and distrust, and her discomfort with my presence was palpable. While it appears as though there is some underlying medical issue at the root of her fear, I realized that coming from South Africa, needing to live in a gated community to be secure, that indeed letting a stranger in your door might seem mad. Trust is a precious thing, to be tended and treasured. I'm glad that I've been able to learn and experience that in my travels. I look forward to being on the other side of that trust circle someday and opening my own door to road weary strangers. You have to be the change you want to see in the world after all.