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Sitka to Prince Rupert, Home
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1845
And that's the vacation. Rain the entire ferry ride, finally clearing an hour before Prince Rupert. Customs, and a few days drive home to Calgary.
We stop and look for Opals again, collect more, we drive to Edmonton and visit family, then to Calgary.
The trip - too rushed, the daughter too young, and perhaps - almost certainly, in fact, this was the trip I was to make on my own - she was good company - family, the family that you create, always is, but for me this was a reconnaissance for another trip that will see me prospect the great white north and find, if not treasure, at least some small peace of mind and spirituality that's been desperately missing from my day to day life.
Sign Dining
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Link of the day
- Hits: 1663
A brilliant little article on the old school signs used by waiters in dining. Like a little primer to visiting another country - signs waiters used to use to communicate:
Link: Sign Dining Courtesy the NY Times
Interesting how the lexicon has changed - small hand signals to indicate texting, gone for a cigarette, losers - signs now have no subtlety and are easily intercepted by customers. But I've forwarded this to the staff and it will soon be fixed...
Drinks with staff
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1986
This is a new thing, the drinks with staff, a weekly ritual. When I worked here before with Franco and G we never went for drinks, at the end of the shift everyone went their separate ways.
But since the girls have been hired, the waitresses and the salad chef, G and the nephew have found new reason to go for drinks, often not just every week but every night...
Sometimes I tag along. I've heard stories about these nights and I'm curious....
We gather at one of the local bars, we're in the NE of Calgary, the Hood, there are better bars for sure but for some reason they favour this. A dozen TV's show sports, MMA fights, the patrons are surly local drunks, more regular than us, I would, on my own, have never set foot in here but the staff like it, they're friendly with the owners and have acquired the dubious status of regulars.
On occasion they'll try another bar, it's the NE, they're all much the same, the VLT's, the smell of pot around the entrance and the drunken patrons starting surreal conversations about anything that crosses their addled brains...
The conversations are grueling. The rehashing of the nights events, the owner's tantrums, it's the group of soldiers that have survived, somehow and miraculously yet another siege, they never stray far from the restaurant, it's all we have in common.
The Nephew moans about his tips, he feels he doesn't get enough, the manager moans she's not appreciated, we complain in general about other less competent staff members not present,..
There are long pauses in which the conversation stalls, the Nephew and G work the waitresses, the manager, more "bump and grind" then flirtation, they laugh but there's suspicions of liaisons that transpire away from our prying eyes.
The bar closes and staff make their way to the Salad Girls apartment, she's wealthy, or her father is, this job is the "chore" she's expected to do, 20 hours a week, in return for her allowance. I've heard stories about this place, and now am awed, 2,000 square feet of condo on a single level overlooking the city, dirty laundry strewn from the front door to the balcony, there's the lavish expensive furnishings, a wrought iron wine holder that looks as if it could have been made in the third world, price: $1800 - note on price tag: "1 only", interspersed with the modern trash are the occasional treasures, a gold pocket watch, a pair of fine antique candlesticks, this condo, it's a page torn from a lifestyles magazine that illustrates what good living should be about.
The nights, here, they go on for ever, until the sun comes up and it's time to go back to work.
This job is their life.
Dreams in/of Alaska
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1633
Now I've had 2 dreams while in Alaska. More than 2, actually, but 2 that I remembered to write down.
First - I will give the gist of some recurring dreams I've had of Alaska - One, that I've driven there from Edmonton / Calgary - wherever - it's surprisingly close, just past Jasper, I should have been? Why haven't I been? And I drive up round past the horn, the substantial body of the State, there are inlets and Killer whales, and I return to Canada by driving along the rocky borders of a long lake that runs through central Saskatchewan...
My dream Geography is a bit messed up....
But there's a similarity in tone, feeling, it's the rose tinted color of memory when I'm there, the inlets, always at night, the ocean and the killer whales...there are the questions, why do I return via Saskatchewan (and what is in Saskatchewan?), why is it so close, what does - in my dream, Alaska mean....?
***
That dream I've had, in varied forms, a few times before going. So I think then that perhaps I'll have some great dreams, some ---- I don't know. I don't - any recognition or dejavu I have while I'm awake.
In Alaska, I have 2, both while on the Ferry.
***
The stewards and pursers very friendly, wearing papier mache masks, painted to look like ventriloquist dolls from the 50's, static, none moving their lips but all with the painted happy expressions of idiots...it's the wrong boat but they won't let us off...there's this millionaire on board, he's ordered a sundae brought from the port of call, the biggest in the world to celebrate his wife's birthday, the biggest in the world so that we can all be offered a bite...
***
and there's the other dream: Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates
A book of naughty fairy tales, pale blue cover, it looks like a cheap reproduction, I've met a group of 5 women on a quiet street in Alaska who are quietly demanding satisfaction, naked, I am with (??) who goes and finds me 2 copies of the book in a thrift shop, for some reason it's important I have this, when I wake all I remember is the meaningless phrase: "Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates" ...
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