So for my last pre-Clarion West week-or-so, Joe took me to Vancouver. (We left the day before the hockey riots, so we didn't get to witness any of that.) Having no particular plans or anything resembling an itinerary, we set out armed only with a list of restaurant recommendations courtesy of my camerado Nick and vague expectations of moose and mounties (neither of which we encountered). The fella manning the security booth on the other side of the border seemed highly suspicious of our confessed aimlessness and asked increasingly specific questions about our purpose in Canada which we were unable to satisfy, but eventually let us through.

Okay, so technically the first place we ate in Vancouver was a place serving flax rolls, but since I figured that my Canadian friends would never let me live down not having any Tim Horton's, we went there immediately afterward. Evidence: 

We went a-wanderin' and saw this whilst crossing a bridge. An ad hoc shrine to the False Creek gods?


At some point we roamed about through Stanley Park (still searching), where we came across a couple raccoons that we at first took great pains to avoid startling, but came to the realization were all but domesticated:


The guy on the right is not, in fact, snarling at someone off-frame.
 Se is nomming cat food!







Photobomber!



We took an aquabus over to the Maritime History Museum and were lucky enough to be in town at the same time as the (U.S.) tall ships Lady Washington and Hawaiian Chieftain. 
keepin' my hands at ten



We hung out a lot at the beach, because we hail from the Mighty Midwest and so find the ocean to be a mystical and wondrous thing.




Sadly, the day we went up Grouse Mountain was quite possibly the foggiest of the week, which meant a lot of the attractions were either closed (beaver taaaiiillls!) or severely limited by the weather. The big-birds-in-flight show was cancelled, but they brought out the bald eagle and great horned owl for us to ogle while the humans told us their secrets.

The eagle is quite alive and well; se just had a habit of forgetting about hir leash and launching hirself into the air, being pulled short, and dangling briefly from hir handler's gloved fist in a huff.
(Not actually attacking the handler's face.)

 Galaxy the Horned Owl was directly in front of me in the front row, and would regard me every once in a while with what felt like immense if disinterested contempt. But maybe she was just sleepy.

 Sampling takoyaki in a fourth country!




The Vancouver Museum was excitingly interactive, and included a couple wardrobe stations where visitors were encouraged to try on costumes from the city's bygone eras.

This horsey served as a cute alternative identifier to numbers at one of the many (many) coffeehouses we patronized.

A quick trot through H-Mart resulted in the discovery of the century, as far as I was concerned: BINGGURE BANANA MILK IN NORTH AMERICA. We were, as you may imagine, overfuckingjoyed.


This trip also marked the first return of Bristol the Wondermoose (he of the many travels and bionic leg) to his homeland since my camerado Kara smuggled him over the border to my waiting grabbyhands several years ago.

We took the Cascades train to Seattle, where we did the proper tourist thing and went on the highly entertaining Underground Tour, the gift shop for which had publicly usable replicas of the original Crapper.




We ended our combined visit with the Seattle Lust Tour, which began at the Gum Wall, described to us as the Second-Most Unsanitary Tourist Attraction in the World (following the Blarney Stone ;D) 



our tiny pink contributions!
That was Friday night, which was also when we rambled into the CanCan to witness a Cabaret Battle, though the victor was unclear. Joe helped me lug my bags into the CWest house the next morning, and then we somewhat emotionally parted ways for quite probably the final time this year--I'm headed for the East Coast shortly after my stay in Seattle, so it'll be text messages and Skype chats until 2012, I'm afraid. 

But now Clarion West is about to officially begin, so I shall publish this post and be done with the Wired (and possibly sleep) for now.

entry title taken from "maggie and milly and molly and may" by e e cummings