Building Community

A greater sense of community has developed among the interns here for the second half of the season.  Perhaps, in the group before, we lacked an initiator, someone to really bring everyone together, helping to establish a homey kind of feel at the centre.  More time has been spent with others than individually, as we have shared meals, gone out on the town, watched movies, and camped out for sunrises as a group.

I was not conscious for the majority of the first sunrise trip, since it was well past my bedtime and I had to work early the next morning.  I slept during the car ride up to the top of Mount Maxwell, and then we hiked a short distance to the predetermined look-out spot, where I curled up on a rock face with some blankets and went back to sleep.  I was awoken just before sunrise the next morning and the view was already breathtaking.  We were overlooking Fulford Harbour and the islands beyond and the sky was just beginning to lighten up.  However, what we saw of the sun was through the trees, since we were facing south, so we determined to find a more advantageous spot for the next time.

The next sunrise was at Beddis Beach.  It felt a bit colder, even though we were a much lower elevation.  We had a fire, and of course, I soon fell asleep. At some point in the night, I was awoken by the delighted screams of my friends and was urged to get up and come to the water’s edge.  Someone ran their hands through the water and it sparkled, not like sunlight looks on the water, but instead, it looked like fairy dust as you see in the movies.  It has something to do with phytoplankton blooms and, most likely, some other conditions as well.  Rocks were tossed and everyone began playing with this magical looking substance.  Still being half asleep at the time, it now feels as if the whole thing were a dream.  This time, we were situated due east, so the sun popped up from behind the neighboring island right in front of us.  It reminded me of being back in Ireland with the sunrise right there, always in view, and the brilliance of the sun, gradually ascending into the sky.

Contra Dancing and Other Fun in Victoria

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.

Arriving on Salt Spring Island

Just getting here was an experience.  I utilized nearly every form of motorized transportation to get to Salt Spring Island.  I took a bus out of Springfield to Logan Airport.  I could feel my body quivering in anticipation, a combination of nervousness and excitement.  Yet, I felt confident, even moreso than during my travels to Sherkin Island last year.  I may not know where I’m going or what to expect, but I’m fairly certain that I can handle it.  Though, I did get a bit nervous at the transfer point when the bus didn’t show for ten minutes.  I couldn’t have missed it and I wasn’t sure if there were other terminals for pick-up.  I asked around, but I wasn’t about to start feeling okay with this until the bus showed.  There was plenty of time before I needed to be at the airport, but I don’t seem to do well when there are glitches in my plans, especially when there’s something significant depending on it, like the non-refundable plane ticket.  I don’t recall what time the bus finally arrived but apparently its route begins in Providence and there was lots of traffic on the way to the airport, causing delays.

At the airport, I made it to my gate in plenty of time to sit and wait for a couple of hours, after which I flew to Chicago to wait some more.  I made the mistake of getting a hamburger and fries from McDonald’s, which I later regretted with a queasy stomach, as I can only recall three times that I’ve had chain fast food stuff in the past year, and it's been years since I consumed McDonald's food.  My body was definitely protesting that decision.  It got a bit better once I got to Seattle, but I was also incredibly jet lagged.  I seem to do well enough when I lose time transferring between time zones, but not so much going forward in time, which is quite strange.  I also started to realize exactly how heavy my pack was, while trekking to the Link Light Rail, wondering when I would ever get there, as one sign after another passed by overhead.  By the time I got to the train, I could have fallen asleep propped up against my pack, but I refrained from this, as I didn’t fancy missing my stop and riding around on the train for the remainder of the evening. 

I hefted up my pack once again to walk the few blocks to the Green Tortoise Hostel, which I found to be quite busy.  Everyone was friendly and welcoming, and I was fortunate enough to show up on free dinner night.  I was certainly thankful for some real food after the fast food episode.  The hostel is going for a hip, new age kind of look, really geared towards the 20-somethings, though everyone is welcome.  After dinner I set out to map my route to the Clipper ferry the next morning, deliberating with myself if I could manage the distance carrying my pack.  Being cheap and not trusting public transportation, I decided to just get up extra early, so that I’d have plenty of time for breaks on my walk over. 

Sleep seemed to elude me that night, as I woke up at least once every hour, even after my roommates stopped coming in from their night out on the town.  So I just got up even earlier, helped myself to free breakfast and headed out, but not before checking where my ferry would land in respect to the ferry to the island.  I had foolishly thought that the ferries would make berth in the same harbor.  Of course, they were an hour bus ride away from each other.  I figured I’d deal with that when I came to it. 

It took me about double the time to walk to the ferry with my pack, but I still had time to check-in, which I completely neglected to factor into the equation.  It was a full house and as I was scoping out the available seats, I started to remember that I haven’t always done well on boats, as I usually get nauseous.  But then I recalled the successful experiences with ferries and RIBs on Sherkin and the dizziness/nausea tolerance that I built up over the past six months of contra dancing and figured that I’d be fine.  I tried to get into the motion of the boat as it bobbed in the calm water.  As we got going, I just focused on my music and tried as best I could to watch the passing scenery from an aisle seat.  It was breathtaking to see snow-capped mountains again.  Since winter wasn’t very long before, the snow extended much further down the mountain slopes than when I visited two Septembers ago.  It was invigorating to stand on the deck outside with the wind whipping past and the sea spraying up behind the boat, leaving a white, foamy trail and a ripple of waves that gradually died away with the increasing distance. 

After three hours on the ferry, we arrived in Victoria and everyone rushed out to wait in line to claim luggage and go through customs.  I had no problems, as there were no computer system failures to deal with this time.  The next bus to Schwartz Bay was forty-five minutes from the ferry’s arrival time, so I was cutting it close after the time spent waiting in line.  I had studied the map on the ferry and the bus depot seemed to be in an easy to find location, so I hustled over there to inquire about the bus, and then, hiked further up the street until I found a bus stop with signs indicating that the correct bus stopped there with only minutes to spare.  The bus arrived on time and I enjoyed my quick, yet amazing tour of Victoria.  I’ve seen plenty of trees, hills, fields, and such at home, but it’s so much more thrilling seeing these in a completely new environment.  I appreciate the little things so much more and everything feels like a new adventure. 

I had e-mailed the rehabilitation center with my anticipated arrival time, but thought it would be a good idea still to call and confirm with actually being at the ferry terminal.  I tried dialing the number a multitude of ways on the pay phone, and finally gave up to try Skype, because of course there would be wi-fi, but the program was having issues.  The ferry was huge!  It accommodated three lanes of eight to ten cars plus passengers, and that was the small ferry, as I later learned!  I opted to withstand the chilly breeze, so that I could fully enjoy the ride and the view. 

Thirty-five minutes later, the ferry crawled into Fulford Harbor and I attempted the pay phone game again.  Of course, it wouldn’t work, which seems to be pretty typical, as the same thing happened last year.  I even talked to 411, but they confirmed that I had the right number and couldn’t do much else.  I was skeptical of the pay phones, so I inquired at a little cafe at the port about the wildlife center and I was able to use the phone, which actually connected to the facility.  I was told the manager, who I had been in contact with was on her way, so I stood out on the corner with my pack, waiting and watching for her vehicle.

The manager is a pleasant, friendly woman and quite chatty.  There was too much information to retain on the drive over, particularly as exhaustion and hunger were overtaking my body.  I heard tidbits about the island and got a tour of town, including the places that would be visited most frequently and the best coffee shops and restaurants.  I was blown away by how populated and bustling the island was, since after my time on Sherkin, I expected islands to generally be rather remote.  It is about a fifteen minute drive from town to the wildlife center, where it’s more removed, tucked away in the woods with cages hiding amongst the towering conifers.  All of the buildings are wooden and rather quaint looking, but the interiors are pretty modern. 

There’s not much happening yet, since the rehabilitation season seems to hit this area later than those nearby, but there should be more patients to care for within the next two weeks.  For now, it’s just prepping and cleaning, learning the ropes and where to find things, and getting settled.  I certainly appreciate the down time after all of that traveling.  I’ll write more as things start happening and I get myself out to explore this island life.