The Weekend

Saturday morning I was conscripted by the Institute Choir Director and Institute Accompanist to go and help put together the music folders for this semester.  This meant I had to get up at the unholy hour of 8:30, oh the humanity!!  Once at institute, it was discovered that someone, or someones, had jacked about half of the music we needed to put in the folders, so that activity was put on hold.  Once home, I decided I needed a short nap - I hadn't fallen asleep until nearly 2:30 the night before, so getting up at 8:30 really did take some effort.  My short nap took three hours.  I was tired.

When I got up, I was on my own, so I decided to, once again, test my navigational skills and see if I could successfully travel to and from a given point, with a minimum amount of turn-arounds and detours.  I am happy to report that my trip to AdditionElle (a clothes store) was done with only one slight detour on the return trip, and that wasn't my fault.  It was the fault of the jerk in the black truck who decided it would be fun to pace me when I signalled that I wanted to get over into the left lane.  One moment he's all in a hurry, the next he's Sunday driving so I can't get in front of or behind him.  Jerk.

I also made it to the CORRECT grocery store, and was triumphant in my procurement of Caffeine Free Diet Coke, ham, and Dill Pickle-Flavored chips.  I was trying to find Yogurt and Green Onion chips to try, since I have been tasked with reporting on their yumminess by certain persons back home, but there was nary a bag to be found.  So I settled on trying out the Dill Pickle chips.  Sadly, I must report that Dill Pickle chips?  Are not good.  They're not horrible, and I suppose if I were in the throes of an overpowering salt craving they'd work, but they're not something I'd ever buy voluntarily again.  They almost taste like Salt N Vinegar chips, but with a "dill" flavor mixed in that, while looking and smelling like dill, does not actually taste like dill, or even a dill pickle.  Next time, I'll have to try the Ketchup flavored chips - unless they have Yogurt and Green Onion.

Sunday was my first day in my new YSA ward.  I was nervous, I'll admit it, but I had a church buddy, the Institute Accompanist's daughter, Ariel, who gave me a ride.  I got to ride in a Smart Car.  Yes, they really are that tiny.  My claustrophobia tried to surface, but I thought it would be rude to start pounding the windows and shouting "Let me out!" so I opted for deep breathing instead.  Church itself was pretty good, although it was fast and testimony meeting and there were some loooonnnnggg awkward pauses between people.  But Andy Samberg's secret twin is in my ward!  He got up to bear his testimony, and I about fell out of my chair.  There is also a girl in the ward who bears an uncanny resemblance in face, voice, and mannerisms to Kelsey O'Connor - her name is, no joke, Keltey (yes, with a 't').  Freaky!

Relief Society was also good, with a little amusing part thrown in.  The teacher thought it would be nice to have everyone stand and say their name and where they're from.  Nearly everyone there was from Edmonton or a nearby city.  I was one of the last to go, and about 12 people just before me were all from Edmonton, and then I got up and said, "I'm Claire, I'm from California" and just about everybody gasped and started laughing.  Fun times.

I made it out of church unscathed and unseen by the ward clerk, who has threatened to photograph everyone for the menu - I'll just submit a picture instead.  Maybe the one that was supposed to go on my OneCard.  After church, I hung around watching Pride and Prejudice until Aunt Cathie got up from her nap.  Then we went on a walk with Kim, her neighbor, to go look at people's yards across the ravine.  Apparently, the yards along the city park walkway can't be closed off - they have to have chain-link fences, so most people have landscaped their gardens to perfection.  It was a hike to get there, but worth it.  Of course, I didn't think to take any pictures until we ran across this little guy:



We were walking by this yard, and I was like, "Oh, cute, they have a giant bunny!" and was told in return, "No, that's wild.  It's a snowshoe hare.  Actually, he's kind of small."  I know it's kind of hard to tell from this picture, but this hare is about the size of a beagle.  Dad, be grateful we don't have these guys eating the lawn.

On our way back, I tried to get a few more pictures, but as I am the World's Worst Photographer, and I was using my phone camera, I only got a couple worth showing off.  This is just off to the side of the road we were walking along:

And, because I love clouds, I tried to capture the pretty colors from the sunset:





Overall, a good day.  (But the No-see-ums have GOT to GO.)

Friday, Friday, Gettin' Down on Friday...

HAH!  Now you have that song stuck in your head, mwah-hah-hah-hah!  Okay, so I only did that because I've had that wretched song stuck in my head for days, and I felt the need to share my pain. 

Friday was a good day, in that I didn't get lost, didn't get on the wrong bus, and managed not to anger the blisters on my feet TOO badly.  I had an appointment at two with an advisor in the International office, to get my study permit situation (hopefully) settled once and for all, so I plugged in my desired arrival time into ETS and got my bus/LRT situation sorted out, with a schedule that was set to get me to campus about 1:48.  I left the house a little after one, then promptly returned to the house to get my jacket - it was COLD on Friday.  Like, low 40s cold, and what scared me, as I was shivering waiting for the bus, was that I realized that it is going to get A LOT colder as the year progresses.  Everyone was right - I AM going to freeze.  But, my leather jacket served me well on Friday, so (sincerely) thanks, guy who repaired my jacket.  You did a great job. 

I made it up to campus around 1:35.  Apparently, the LRT goes a little faster than ETS estimates.  I had time to kill, and thought about wandering campus some more - then my blisters started throbbing angrily (I think they can read my thoughts) so I just headed to the International office instead.  I got there around 1:40 - the place was packed and hoppin', due to the barbecue that was taking place in the quad just outside the office.  Joy.  I managed to find a seat near the receptionist's desk.  About two seconds after I'd settled down and opened my book, I was swarmed by a group of Asian girls, all talking to each other in their native tongue, all acting as though I was invisible.  Or part of the chair.  I ignored it and waited until it was near time for my appointment, then got up and made my presence known to the receptionist.  When I turned back to take my seat again, I found it covered by all of the girls' purses and whatnot, so I gave it up as lost and just stood near the counter reading until it was my turn.

Talking to the advisor didn't take long, and she was able to put my mind at ease regarding the study permit.  The university doesn't care if you have one, unless you're trying to get a job on-campus, so...I'm officially okay to start school on Wednesday...yay?  I'm trying to be excited, but there's that young part of me that's like, "School?  I thought we were done with that....>sigh< okay...."

Leaving the International office, I discovered it had started to rain - really rain - while I was inside.  As I was walking outside, I remembered that my umbrella was still in California.  Actually, both of them are.  I'd meant to pack them, but at some point in time, the thought just fell out of my head.  Nice.  Thankfully, it was a short walk back to the LRT station, and as I was getting off the LRT, my bus got there - the right one this time - so there wasn't a whole lot of time spent in the rain. 

That night, Aunt Cathie offered to take me to the West Edmonton Mall (or WestEd, as it's known locally).  Now, I've only been to Edmonton once before now, and I was about four years old.  I don't remember anything of that first trip, but this: Edmonton has a mall that has a roller coaster in it.  That was all I could remember, ever, from that trip.  That mall is the West Edmonton mall, and it doesn't just have a roller coaster.  It has a small theme park, with multiple rides, including but not limited to: a roller coaster (a big one), giant swings, tilt-a-whirl, one of those raise you up high and drop you thingies (2, actually, one for small kids and one for grownups), another roller coaster where you sit in cars that you can spin like the teacups at D-land, a train, and a bunch of other stuff that I didn't really take in.  That's in one part of the mall.  There is also a water park, with some giant slides, a kiddie land, and a huge wave pool.  There is a pirate ship over water, where there are bumper boats, and a dolphin show.  And a seal show.  There is an ice skating rink, and apparently the Oilers sometimes practice there.  There are three food courts, two of them your typical mall food courts, and one called Bourbon street that hosts a bunch of different pubs and real restaurants.  Oh, and there are about a million stores.  And a hotel.  We were there for nearly two hours, and all we did was walk from one end of the mall to the other and back.  We went into, I think three stores, each for less than 10 minutes.  It's huge, and it's all under one roof.  I thought my head was going to explode.  I also thought it was weird to have an amusement park and water park in a MALL, but, as Cathie pointed out, "What else are you going to do when there's six feet of snow outside?"  What, indeed.  Go to the mall!  Bring your swimsuit and your ice skates!

I Now Have an Extra Toe, or, My First Walk Around Campus (also novel-length)

Thursday was another day of firsts.  I needed to talk to someone in the registrar's office about my lack of a study permit, coupled with my lack of proof of Canadian citizenship.  I wanted to make sure that I wasn't gonna have problems starting school if I didn't have my study permit.  At first, I planned to just go up on campus and ask someone, then got scared, and decided to call instead.  I had the privilege of listening to the same message over and over while on hold, the kind that says, without actually saying it, "Please just hang up and go on the website.  Please.  We really don't want to talk to you.  With all the technology available, and everything computerized, there's almost NO reason you need to talk to a live human being, so please hang up and go to www.ualberta.ca.  Please."

Well, I'd already been to the registrar's page, and there was nothing related to my situation, i.e., What to Do If You Applied as an International Student, Then Found out You're Canadian, and Now Have No Study Permit and You're Waiting for Your Proof of Citizenship, so I stayed on the line.

When I finally got a live human being, she listened to my garbled explanation of my situation, then said, "We don't deal with graduate students here, you'll have to talk to FGSR (Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research)," and hung up.  Thanks, anonymous phone lady.

So I hunted up the number for FGSR, and called them, which led to a similar message re: please just look on the website.  But at least this time I got a menu option.  After listening to the first four menu options, I finally got, "For other issues or questions, press 5" so I dutifully pressed 5 and waited.  And waited.  Stiiillllll waaaaiiiittttiiiinnngggg....hey, wait, what?  Beep boop >buzzz< blip! [cell phone lights up to indicate the call ended].

I figured it was just a random glitch, so I called the number again, sat through the same "Look on the website, dummy!" message, got to the menu, pressed 5....and got the same random tones, right before I was hung up on AGAIN.  There was no way to avoid it - I was gonna have to go up to campus, and since I needed to figure out the bus/LRT schedule anyway, that was my chosen mode of transportation. 

Edmonton Transit Systems (ETS) has a very handy site where you plug in your start and endpoints, when you want to depart or arrive, and it gives you your trip options.  Very helpful.  So I got all my stuff together and strolled across the street to the bus stop to wait for the 40 Yellowbird at 2:12.  Getting on the bus was no problem, but definitely felt weird, since before now the only time I've ridden a city bus was on vacation with a crew of family members.  I nervously showed the bus driver my OneCard, because I wasn't sure if I needed to swipe it, or something.  I don't - flashing it was enough, thankfully, because I'm sure if he'd really looked at it, he might've thought I stole a OneCard from a much toadier-looking person.

Getting on the LRT was also no big deal.  I kept thinking I was gonna have to swipe my card at some point, or show it to a guard, but no.  You just have it handy IN CASE someone asks - there are no turn styles, like DC or New York (the only experience with public transit I've had before now).  So I boarded the train, and ended up sitting across from two girls who looked stereotypically Californian (fake blonde/streaked hair and orange tans), but had accents that were nearly Scottish, they were so thick.  It was disconcerting.

I'd checked the position of the FGSR office on the map of campus on-line before leaving, so I thought I knew where to go.  I was wrong, so very wrong!  I turned left coming out of the LRT station, instead of right, and ended up walking around the HUB.  The HUB is yooooooooggggeeeee.  It's where international students are housed, it has a mall in the middle, and the LRT station underneath, and is about 5 city blocks long (no, that's not an exaggeration).  So of course, I came out near one end, and walked along to the other end, because I thought the building I was trying to find was near that end.

And now, a few words about U of A's campus.  It is very green.  Lots of plants and trees and pathways among them, and a neat Geology garden full of huge, weird rocks that I wanted to climb over.  Beautiful.  Old, venerable-looking brick buildings with fancypants white trim, newer modern-looking glass and steel structures (some still being built).  But among all of this nifty architecture and verdant landscaping, there was something missing....something off.  After wandering around aimlessly for about 10 minutes, I finally put my finger on it.  There were no FRICKIN' BUILDING SIGNS!!!  I was used to BYU, where every building had a sign outside its main door telling you what the building was - "Joseph Smith Building", "Harris Fine Arts Center", "David O. McKay School of Education", etc.  They don't do that here.

Once I realized that I was never going to find Triffo Hall if Triffo Hall didn't have a sign announcing its presence, I pulled out my phone and went to the on-line map.  I even got a picture of the building in question.  It was....made of bricks....with white trim...and there were some trees around it.  It wasn't even a picture of the front entrance of the building, it was, like, a side, or something - no doors, only anonymous windows that looked like HALF the buildings ON CAMPUS.

Of course, even with the map, it still took me an eternity to find the building.  Occasionally I'd find a sign that gave me information I could corroborate with the map - like "Agricultural Sciences" and then I'd find the building for Agricultural Science on the map, and pinpoint which grid square I was in.  I was looking for D5.  I ended up, at one point, in C3, because I'd had to detour around a large section of walkway and building that was blocked off for construction.  I found a real, live campus map in C3, which showed me how far away I'd wandered from my intended destination, and after taking a picture of the map, because I was sure I'd never see one again in this lifetime, I hiked back up towards my building.

I think I probably passed Triffo Hall at least once, possibly twice, while looking for it.  It's a lot smaller than the stupid picture leads you to believe, and it's also so close to this other yooge building, the Cameron (aww, I miss him!) Library, that it looks like it's part of the larger building.  But find it I did, in the end.  I managed to get there about 10 minutes before the end of office hours, which earned me a glare from the receptionist, but at that point I was beyond caring.  I briefly explained why I was there to the receptionist, who called in an advisor for me to talk to.  After explaining my situation, and how Border Patrol hadn't given me a study permit, she said, "Wow, I have no idea.  We've never had a situation like this before."  She then tried to tell me I was in the country illegally if I didn't have a study permit; I reminded her that the BORDER PATROL guy was the one who let me in the country and told me I was a citizen, so, not so much really.  She referred me to U of A International.  They are based out of the HUB.  I'd walked out of the HUB about an hour earlier.  My entire conversation with her took all of about 5 minutes, which could have happened over the phone if the stupid system hadn't HUNG UP ON ME, but nooo...

Anyways, so after taking my leave of Triffo Hall, I schlepped my way back to the HUB.  I ended up in the mall, somehow - I just picked a door to go in, and that's where I ended up.  After traversing half the length of the mall, I found a UAI info desk, where the (attractive) young man there instructed me to walk about a third of the way farther along to the door that would lead me down to their main office.  I made it to the office, and managed to get the attention of the receptionist, who had to make me an appointment to talk to an advisor on Friday, because they were all doing orientation.  After picking up my orientation packet, I limped back to the LRT station for the trip home.

Getting back on the LRT - no problem.  Getting on the bus home - oy.  So, I remembered that the bus I needed was the 40 Yellowbird.  As I walked out of the LRT station, what was right there?  40 Yellowbird.  So I hopped on, flashed my pass, and sat down.  As we pulled out of the station, I saw another 40 Yellowbird bus, and felt a flash of worry, but I figured, well, it's the number and route I need, soo....

Soo...the bus doesn't go to my stop, this round.  It doesn't even go to my neighborhood.  I sat, and I waited, and I prayed really hard for the driver to turn right, turn right, right here, this is the way I need to---aaannnddd you turned left.  Jerk.  I ended up riding the whole route, up to the mall, and back to the LRT station, where I promptly fled the bus.  I yanked out my phone and found the ETS site, punched in my coordinates and destination, and got....the 40 Yellowbird as my only option if I wanted to leave in the next lifetime.  So, after taking some deep, soothing, don't-you-dare-cry breaths, I stomped back over and, in a near-yell, ask the driver if the bus stops at 11 Ave.  He pulls out his route map and says, "Yup" like it's no big deal, and I tell him, "Okay, but I just rode the whole last route, and it didn't go over there, and this says 40 Yellowbird, which is what I need, so I had to make sure because I want to get home before I die."  He tells me to sit up front, and he'll let me know when it's my stop.  I wanted to say, no, I know my stop, you didn't go there, even though it's, ostensibly, on the 40 Yellowbird route, but there were people waiting to get on.

I think I may have hurt his feelings, because when he got to my stop he yelled, really loudly (even though I was right there), "For the lady who wanted 11 Ave, this is your stop!"  Thanks, bus guy.

Once inside my room, I took off my shoes because my feet, which had been used to comfy open-toed flip-floppy-type shoes, were vigorously protesting their confinement in my Docs for the first time in months (it was cold outside).  After pulling my socks off, I realized just how upset they were - I currently have a blister bigger than my little toe growing off the side of my big toe on my left foot, and the beginnings of another toe-sized blister on the side of my right foot.

Hopefully, my feet get over their confinement soon, because the past few days have been cold, and it rained a lot yesterday.  Flip flops ain't gonna cut it no more.

First Day ALL ALONE...8-O (this one is long...)

Wednesday was my first day well and truly on my own.  Aunt Cathie had to go back to work, and I had a couple of things I needed to get done, like getting my citizenship papers notarized, and picking up my OneCard (the U of A's ID/Transit/debit card).

I woke up at 7:30, briefly debated getting up, but decided life was too short to get up that early when I don't have to.  I ended up leaving the house around 11, after getting all gussied up, to head to campus for my OneCard.  I had a nagging feeling that I might have to get my picture taken on campus, even though I'd submitted a photo the week before.  (I made Mum take about a dozen pictures of me, then picked the one where I looked the least deranged.  It's my FB profile picture now.)

The drive to the university was (thankfully) uneventful.  I found a spot at one of the pay lots, and then promptly got to pay $2.00 for the privilege of parking there for half an hour.  Actually, $2.25, because I tried to purchase more time, but the stupid thing wouldn't let me put another quarter in, and wouldn't give me the other quarter back.  As I walked toward the Van Vliet centre, where they were passing out cards, I realized that I was walking in the back way.  Not many people going the same way as me, but whatever.

Inside, I wandered around for a bit, trying to find a sign pointing me in the right direction.  I didn't see an obvious flow of traffic, so I picked a random large hall to wander.  As I was on the verge of walking out of the building, I passed a large group of students coming in.  One of them was talking in an unmistakable Irish accent, another had to be Australian, and there was a beautiful tall African boy and girl walking with the group, speaking something that was definitely NOT English.  "International students!!"  I thought, then remembered that I'd forgotten orientation.  Oops.  I tacked myself onto the end of the group and we all trouped to the OneCard pickup together. 

I wasn't sure which line to get in to pick up my card - the sign said A to I --> and H to Z <--.  Not confusing at all.  I had a small giggle when the Aussie girl said "zed" when talking about the sign.  Then I remembered Canadians call it "zed" too, so I'm gonna have to work on that.

Getting to the front of the line, my worst fears were confirmed - they didn't get my picture.  No card for me.  Which meant I had to go stand in the Space Mountain-esque line to get a picture taken.  By this point, my paid half hour was almost gone, so I hiked back out to the parking lot and paid $6.00 for an hour and a half of parking (I didn't like the look of the line I had to wait in, so I played it safe).

Of course, when I got back to the scary line, it had halved - I must have come at a peak time, and the fifteen minutes it took me to walk out, pay, and walk in saw an upswing in the productivity of the OneCard staff.  It took far less time to get to the front of the picture line than it did to get to the front of the original pickup line.  Sitting down to get my picture taken, I tried to sit up, arrange my clothes so nothing was revealed, arrange my hair so my face was visible, and smile in a way that didn't cause my right eye to scrunch into nothingness.  The dude working the camera took the picture before I had finished my smile, and the picture itself is slightly squashed.

If Harry Potter ever gets re-done on BBC, I will be a shoo-in for Professor Umbridge based on that picture alone.  I will post it, as soon as I figure out Aunt Cathie's scanner.

After leaving the Van Vliet centre, I decided lunch was in order.  After a small pick-me-up (Diet Coke and a Subway sandwich), I went to get my documents notarized by a friend of Cathie's, Wendy, over at Centre 104, a big office building housing a bunch of law firms and a bank.  I remembered how to get there, after I passed the turn into the parking lot.  Which required me to go up and around to the next street, because many Edmonton streets are one-way, so U-turns are not possible.  Coming back down the other street, I turned in one driveway too early, which required me to turn my car around in a lot full of new Mercedes.  3 point turn my booty, try 50.

After successfully navigating my way over to the correct parking lot, I walked into the building and realized:

a. I didn't know Wendy's last name, and
b. I didn't know which office Wendy worked in

I called Cathie and left her a message, sent her a text, and Facebooked her, just to be thorough, but after half an hour, concluded that she was probably in a meeting, and not in a position to answer my questions.  So I headed home. 

On my way home, I belatedly remembered that the flow-through merge lane I was stopped next to was the right turn I needed to make.  Of course, I was too close to the truck in front of me to swing right, and by the time the light turned green and the truck moved, the idiot in the Audi next to me was futzing his sweet way along, blocking my attempts to get in the right lane.  So I got onto Highway 2.  And got off the 2 at the next exit, drove across the overpass, and got back on.  I was nearly home when I got a text from Cathie letting me know the name and company of Wendy, so I turned around and headed back to Centre 104. 

Wendy is a very nice woman, and was very helpful - she notarized all of my documents for me, wished me luck in my quest for citizenship, and didn't charge me at all.  She even spared me The Conversation, and merely remarked that you didn't get many Californians moving to Edmonton.
Heading back home, I remembered that the milk was almost gone, so I decided to test my memory and see if I could find the grocery store.  I almost made it.  I found A grocery store, Sobey's, but not THE grocery store, Save-On.  It was hidden behind the bank across the street from the Sobey's.  Walking around Sobey's made me feel like I was walking around the Park City Albertson's - it's not just a grocery store, it's a POSH grocery store - they even have an olive bar.  Not that I tried it, but it was there.  They also don't sell ham in packages larger than 8 slices, so they're out. 
There was a Tim Horton's across the street, and I'd heard rave reviews about Tim Horton's donuts, so I decided, given the day I'd had, that I'd try one out.  Well, they're good, but good like a Krispy Kreme - it's yummy, but have more than 1 (or 2, if you're daring), and you'll go into sugar shock.  I think I still prefer your typical, run-of-the-mill neighborhood donut shop donuts.

I made it home unscathed, and decided that it was time to start my blog, because there's just no way a day like that (or Thursday) fits into a pithy Facebook status update.

Opening a Bank Account, a.k.a, "You're gonna freeze!" redux

Tuesday morning came, and with it, the departure of my mother for parts south.  I had a bank appointment to open a new account with Royal Bank of Canada in the afternoon, an appointment that I went to all by myself (oh hush, growing up scares some of us).  My appointment was with Eddy (short for Edmonton, no joke) an accounts manager.  If Eddy ever decides to give up banking, he can become a model.  Not kidding.  He was gorgeous.  Eddy, like many others, is concerned about my well being in winter, as evidenced by this conversation:

[After I pull out my driver's license and passport card]

"California, eh?  What part?"

"Southern.  About 70 miles from the Mexico border."

"Oh my gosh!  And you came here?  What made you decide to pick Edmonton?"

"Well, I was a teacher, got RIF'd, decided to get my master's, and my auntie said I could come and live with her, so I applied to U of A.  And got in."

"But you're going to die during the winter!  Did anyone try to talk you out of it?"

"No, but I've had plenty of warnings about the weather, I'm just trying not to think about it too much."

"Well, come and see me when it gets cold, and tell me what you think."

"Um, okay."

So I got my bank account sorted out, then went across the street to get gas, as my car was running on fumes.  I hadn't put any money in my RBC account yet (a check would take 15 days to process, and I needed to call Wells Fargo before pulling out a bunch of money).  So I went inside to prepay for gas, and my card got declined.  Three times.  Red-faced, I left the gas station, rolled home (praying that the car could make it), then stormed upstairs to make a call to Wells Fargo asking them why they'd locked my account. 

Luckily, Aunt Cathie intercepted me before I placed the call and pointed out that they'd probably seen my charge from Indigo earlier in the day, gone "Canada, WTF?" and locked the account just in case some nefarious person had gotten ahold of my card and gone on a book buying binge (if one book can be considered a binge).  After a brief hold, I got on line with a pleasant sounding young gentleman, and explained to him that yes, it really was me in Canada, and that I needed to be able to access my money, and also, I'm pulling out a couple hundred dollars to put in my RBC account.  After unlocking my account, I got to have another round of The Conversation:

"So, Canada, huh?  Isn't Edmonton, like, really far up there?"

"Yeah, it's on the same latitude as the northern Aleutian islands, so it's pretty far up."

"And you're from California, you say?  Where abouts?"

"Moreno Valley.  Its-"

"Oh, I know Moreno Valley, I'm from L.A.!  Wait, you left there to go to school in Canada?"

"Yeah.  My aunt lives here, and they have a program I want-"

"But it snows, like, A LOT up there.  And it gets REALLY cold.  You're probably gonna freeze."

"Yup, that's what everyone keeps telling me..."

"Well, good luck, and try not to die when it gets cold."

Aww, even the random bank dudes are worried about me freezing to death.

I think I'm gonna start telling people I'm from Nome, Alaska.

Bienvenue a Canada

After arriving in Edmonton last Thursday, I got to enjoy a few days of rest, relaxation, and reconnecting with relatives.  It had been three years since I last saw some of them, sixteen years since I last saw others, and some I had never met, so it was good to just hang out and enjoy their company.  I've decided that, next to Cameron, my cousins' children, Tamsen and Rowan, are THE cutest kids in the world.  I mean, I'd already seen the photographic evidence of their adorableness, but I hadn't had a chance to see how cute they were in person.  Verdict: pretty dang cute.

Monday, I was very brave and walked over to a houseful of YSA girls to get a ride to FHE.  Don't laugh, this was a big step for me!  FHE ended up being at one of the myriad parks found in Edmonton, called Hawrelak park.  It's huge, and we drove around for about 10 minutes just trying to find the group.  While being introduced to some of the other YSAs, I got to have The Conversation:

"Hi, I'm __________________"

"Hi, I'm Claire Horspool."

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too."

[various inquiries about where I'm going to school and what I'm studying, and then we get to...]

"So, where are you from."

"Southern California."

"Oh my gosh, are you terrified for winter?!  It gets really bad here, I hope you don't freeze!"

"Yeah, I've heard that.  I'm trying not to think too much about it, just enjoy the rest of summer."

"Oh, well, let us know what you think of our winter when it gets here (hee hee hee)."

"Will do."

Even my new Canadian YSA friends are worried that I will freeze to death once winter hits.  I'm starting to get a little worried.

But other than dire warnings of my sad fate by snow come winter, FHE was pretty fun.  It's a neat experience, playing Bocce Ball while listening to bagpipes and being consumed by mosquitos.  It makes me a little sad that, once school starts, I'll be in class Monday nights until 8.

Car Trippin' up the I-15, Part le Deux

DAY THREE:

As we're leaving the room, rolling a luggage cart that is packed right up to the top bar with my stuff (Mum rolling her two tiny bags along behind her), we pass an old man who looks at my tower 'o' stuff and comments, "Wow, you could give my wife a run for her money."  Thanks, old man.  Mum set him straight (kindly) but I still felt like a dork.

We made it back to the interstate with only a brief, unplanned detour, which gave us a chance to see the famous falls of Idaho Falls.  I was....underwhelmed.  But I'd kind of suspected that, given we were in a flat area with no nearby mountains, the falls themselves would be less than epic.  Pretty?  Yes.  Epic?  No.

Back on the interstate, the scenery is still beautiful, but there is a lot of open space between one city and the next.  I mean, I'm used to driving along the freeway through five different cities without a break in civilization, but Idaho is not like that.  Neither is Montana, which is where we headed next - Great Falls.  Actually, we tried to set our sights on Shelby, which is only 35 miles from the Canadian border, but gosh darn it, Shelby only has two hotels, a Best Western and a Super 8.  Well, after the Quality (lies!) Inn, Mum was having none of the Super 8 (neither was I, but I didn't have to be a brat about it, because it wasn't even an option), and the Best Western had no available rooms.  I'm just curious about what goes on in Shelby - a small town, at least from what I could see - that fills up an entire Best Western hotel.  Anybody?

Montana was, I think, my favorite state to drive through, which is weird because I had no such feelings after our last road trip to Canada, back in 2008.  But I think it depends on which side you're driving through - the western side has gorgeous mountain roads, the east side...buttes.  And fields.  And more buttes.  And more fields....you get the idea.  Not that the buttes and fields weren't on the west side, too, but there was plenty of mountain driving through the Rockies that I got to enjoy fully because Mum was driving at the time.  It helped break up the monotony.

Stopping in Great Falls for the night landed us in town around 5:30 pm, so Mum and I decided to poke around a bit.  The hotel was across the street from a mall, so we headed on over, only to discover that it was a small mall after all.  No fun.  Chili's for dinner became our next goal - ours and everyone else's.  The place was packed, apparently because some sporting event was being aired, and all the local sports fans had chosen Chili's as their preferred viewing spot.  I happened to be seated next to a window looking through to the bar area, and noticed it was baseball.  I have less than no interest in baseball, so I didn't pay much attention, until I noticed that the pitcher they showed looked really young.  And so did the batter, and those outfielders seemed...scrawny.  It was the Little League playoffs - Montana vs. California.  I was grateful when Montana won, because from the sounds of those sportsfans, if they'd lost, I didn't want to think about what my CA plates would have incited some of the more rabid fans to do.

(No, I don't really think anyone would have done anything.)

DAY FOUR:

The last day of the trip gave me mixed feelings.  On the one hand, the drive was almost over, and with any luck, would not have to be repeated until I was finished with my studies.  On the other hand, I'd had a recurring nightmare the previous night that began with me showing my paperwork to the border agent, and ended with me being thrown in Canadian jail because I'd tried to bring my little pink pocket knife into the country with me, which they found in its secret hidden compartment in the bottom of my car when they brought the sniffer dogs out after searching it.  As we got closer and closer to the border crossing, it got harder and harder to breathe.  Not that I actually thought I'd get the sniffer dog treatment, or thrown in jail (back across the border, maybe, but not jail), but I WAS afraid there would be something wrong with the paperwork I had, making it impossible for me to get my study permit, and throwing all of my life plans out of whack.

Moment of truth: I pulled up to the window, handed the Hot Border Agent (yowza!) my passport and Mum's, and answered his questions.  I even told him about the pink pocket knife, which he wrote down, but did not call in the dogs.  He told us to pull around and find the immigration agent inside, and I regretfully took a last long look at Hot Border Agent before parking.

Inside, at the immigration desk, is where things got interesting.  After showing our passports to the (not hot, and a girl) agent, she asked to see our birth certificates (which I had), then told us to have a seat.  After a brief confab with her superior, she called us back up to talk to him.  Hey, guess what?  I'm a Canadian citizen!  As far as the border patrol is concerned, I don't need a study permit, I can come to Canada all I want!  Neat!  After advising me to get a Canadian passport ASAP and teasing Mum about being from Winnipeg ("Yeah, it's a really nice place...to be from"), the border agent wished us well, and sent us on up the road.

Now, I'd heard that Canadians generally drive slower than Americans, and that they're really good at moving over and letting faster cars go around.  While the second is true, the first is a dirty, filthy lie.  As I pulled onto the highway and saw the sign (110 kph), I figured out that if I went about 80 (125-ish) I should be okay, and hopefully that wouldn't be too fast.  The Albertans who screamed by me at Mach 1 were all laughing their heads off at the silly American car, I'm sure of it.

About a mile further on fate decided, now my border crossing fears were gone, that I needed another adrenaline boost to keep me awake and alert.  Fate sent a livestock truck screeching onto the highway from a cross street - right in front of me.  A quick, unannounced, unplanned lane change kept Mum and me from becoming a smear on the rump of the cattle car, and gave me the energy buzz I needed.  After various unpleasantries were hurled in the direction of the truck, Mum observed "Bienvenue a Canada", which made me wish I'd had a welcome beaver there to greet me.

Five hours and one wrong turn (and attendant detour) later, and we pulled up in front of Aunt Cathie's house.  We'd made it!