Go West! This Montreal girl left her heart in San Francisco (and other coastal ports of call).
In my previous story, I introduced you to my late father and his secret for the best damned goulash. I also shared with you about being his caregiver and the rewards of this service. As life would have it, just as I feel myself bouncing back from that tremendous upheaval to my life, another man I was once close to became reliant on my care very recently: my ex-husband, the father of my first child (now 25 year old). I was the only one present and available to advocate for him when the hospital called about a month ago, and that’s fine. What’s left of his family is strewn across the US mid-west and California, and not particularly inclined to step in, so here I am, again, tapping into my reserves of empathy and care.
Why do I bring this up? I was very young when I met him, he was 22 years my senior, but SUCH a cool dude. I was on a GenX quest for the source of Grunge and so after a few weeks in Whistler BC with an old high-school buddy, I hopped into the van of some weirdos who were headed to Oregon and simply requested to be dropped off in downtown Seattle. I was 21, with my backpack, no cares, no fears, no plan, just foolish bravado and a lot of…bounce. I quickly befriended some interesting people and within days word got around about this cute French girl (because everyone from Quebec is French, oui?), suddenly I had offers for spare couches (and beds…), and tours of the coolest streets and spots.
One day I was introduced to Ed. He was much older, did body piercing, was covered in tattoos, and had a motorcycle, catnip to the young rebellious chick I was! I stayed with him for 3 weeks, and fell in love. Not with him exactly. I fell in love with the West Coast. I was eventually obligated to return to Montreal, and despite having traveled to much of Europe and eastern America, I had never been anywhere outside of Montreal that just felt so, well, rad. He joined me in Montreal a few months after I got back, we married, had a kid, and here we are 20 years later, with me at his hospital bedside, reminiscing.
I’m convinced I’ll relocate out west one day, or at least become bi-coastal. I want to be a hop skip and a jump away from ALL of the West Coast, from BC to Baja. The supernatural scenery of mountains, rainforests, coasts, driftwood-strewn beaches, groves of Redwoods and Sequoias, the briny mossy scent of Salt Spring Island; I need access to these as much as possible. But those are merely points of interest. What I feel the need to visit and revisit is the vibe, the one I catch like a Tofino wave.
I did go to San Francisco, sorta, 7 years ago. Supper in town on the first night, tours of this n that on my last day (do book a daytime visit to the Giant’s AT&T baseball stadium. It’s worth it I promise). But most of my week was spent taking scenic drives around Mount Tam, being a cork dork in Napa, catching cool shows in Oakland, scoping out giant trees in Muir Woods, taunting the misnamed Pacific with my toes… All in the company of an even earlier ex, who was living there for work and still knew how to show me a (friendly) good time.
Now I have been with a man for 8 years whose entire family happens to all be located in BC, and wouldn’t you know it, that kid my ex and I had? He’s been living in Vancouver for 5 of those! I feel like the incentives to visit and prolong my stays keep accruing and maybe some day I’ll just not plan a return trip east. I truly love the way I feel there. So, Go West I must!
In my next story, I will be taking you roughly 2 hours from Vancouver via Air North to another westerly Canadian gem: Whitehorse! Hop on for my brazen final flights just before the world locked down.
