Coincidentally, on my birthday, there was also a contra dance taking place in Victoria, which was a huge deal, as dances only occur once a month, instead of weekly like they do back home. I have really been missing my weekly contra dancing fix. Once, I tried tango here, but it was not worth the fifteen dollars. The movements are very precise and in time to the music, and it seems that one needs a good grasp on the basics, before beginning to actually dance. I had no patience for this and have not been back since. With contra, you can just jump in, people offer guidance as you go, and it is more about having fun than getting the moves right.
Anyways, I made a day trip of Victoria, getting dropped off in town by another intern to catch the Salt Spring Island transit over to Fulford Harbor, which was quite a bit cheaper than paying for gas. On the crossing to Schwartz Bay in Sidney, I noticed dark fins in the distance ducking and resurfacing in the water. After having been pointed out to me a handful of times while on Sherkin Island, I determined that they must be porpoises, and they are often about the Gulf Islands at this time of year, as are the whales.
The express bus takes one hour to drive from Sidney to downtown Victoria, but I was in no hurry with plenty of time before the dance that evening and a three o’clock check-in time at the hostel. I always seem to panic on public transit, since I have no idea where I am going or how a city is organized. I do not feel like I have a good view of things and am unable to determine for myself where I am and where I need to go. I generally prefer to walk so that I can take in everything and feel like I have more control over my travels. However, I made it into downtown without a problem, quickly located the hostel, and then headed straight for the Polish deli/restaurant that one of the staff members had recommended to me. It was some of the best Polish food that I have had, including beet based borscht, a thick piece of grilled kielbasa, and delicate pierogies with a variety of fillings. I determined that I need to keep working on my own pierogies, so that maybe I can get them to taste like the restaurant’s, Cook N' Pan, which is located on Cook Street.
I wandered around for a bit, all the way down to docks, where the ferries from the United States come in, which was loaded with tourists on holidays and weekend getaways. I was getting tired of carrying my backpack, which I may have over packed for a single overnight, so I hiked back towards the hostel and bought a latte at Serious Coffee, which was not terribly enjoyable, as the espresso was quite bitter.
I was glad to find that reserving beds for myself and two other interns, who would join me later, worked out because it was such a challenge trying to understand the owner on the phone with her quick and quiet speech, further complicated by a thick Asian accent. In person, it was not much easier to understand her, but she seemed sweet and interested in my travels. The Turtle Hostel seemed a bit quirky, but it was cozy with all of the essentials. I have been told that it can get quite loud there with the neighbors partying, but the I was tired enough that night to not notice.
I unloaded a bit and headed for Beacon Hill Park, which the Cook N' Pan employee had recommended. I meandered around the ponds, observing waterfowl, people, and vegetation. There was a wedding party doing a photoshoot by one pond and on a little stone bridge nearby. I found one tree whose trunk gradually inclines over the pond, creating a cozy napping spot, and shielded from the walkway by some bushes. There was another grove of large, distorted trees, which were quite enjoyable to rest on and watch the world go by.
After exiting the park, I came upon a bookstore, and inquired about coffee shops as I checked out, since evening seemed to be closing time for several businesses. I was referred to Habit on the corner of Blanshard and Johnson Streets for their amazing hot chocolates and mochas. I found a little booth tucked away in the corner, where I sipped an absolutely delicious hot cocoa, complete with chocolate shavings on top of the foamy milk, and read my book.
I decided to try walking to the dance, after I had Google mapped it again and found out that it was only half an hour walk away from the hostel. That did not sound too bad and I figured that I could check out the neighborhood on the way to determine if it might be safe enough to walk back through that night. I vaguely remembered a back way that Google had come up with, including lots of turns onto various streets. I quickly became lost and asked for directions. Coincidentally, the people who I first encountered were visiting from Philadelphia and needed to refer to the mother, who they and their children were staying with, as she was well acquainted with Victoria. However, she did not know the street that I was looking for quite so well and brought out a map, which she lent to me, in case I became lost again.
I located the church, at which the dance was to be held, but the parking lot looked a bit deserted. Fortunately, as I approached the street corner, there were more cars parked along the roadside and in a lot for the community center behind the church. I could already feel myself getting giddy with excitement. There were only two small lines, maybe twenty or twenty-five people total. It took a bit to relax and get back into the rhythm and flow of contra, but I was so happy to just be there and just dance! I also discovered that I had not yet lost my spinning tolerance, after not having danced and twirled for about a month and a half, because the change is usually quick and drastic. Although, it did probably help that many of the guys there did not engage in fancy spin tricks or lots of them. Once some of them figured out that they could twirl me, they did, which was good fun. I talked to some people about the contra scene back home, and after the dance, I e-mailed all of the links that I could possibly think of for dances for a guy originally from Rhode Island and interested in checking out the dance scene back home, which apparently was not as prevalent almost a decade ago. I asked a couple of people if they knew of anyone heading into downtown, but no such luck. On my way, all of the houses that I passed looked well maintained with manicured, green lawns, so I decided that I would be safe walking through a rich, suburban neighborhood at night.
I was quite energized after dancing and did not fall asleep for some time, even after the long walk back to the hostel. The other interns had gone out to some clubs, so I did not meet up with them until we all awoke the next morning. We ate breakfast at Floyd’s Diner, which was affordable with quality ingredients and large portions. Soon after, it was time to start catching transport back to the island for work that afternoon. I still find it challenging to get back into work after having a day off. It never seems like enough time to do all that I want to do, to be active, relax, and take care of household chores. It is so nice to just do what you want with your time.
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