“I believe the world needs more Canada”- Bono

I think airports say a lot about the country they are verandahs to. In Sydney they call you mate before hauling you off to be swabbed for explosives, at Heathrow there is a resigned down beat air of lost grandeur and milky tea, in Chiang Mai there is a sweaty chaos that is frankly far bigger than your needs or feelings, at Abu Dhabi the Bedouin princes stand in immaculate flowing thobes while never to be citizen Desi mercenaries stand to attention around submachine guns,  and at LAX … well I hope I never find out.
At Vancouver every official, security guard, cleaner and baggage handler is nice. Genuinely friendly, welcoming and helpful. The chorus of “welcome to Canada sir” is delivered without even the faintest air of menace that exists south of the border. It was you might say a most welcome revelation.

12 hours_* earlier we woke in North London, gathered our stuff together, took a farewell photo with Mary and navigated the bus and tube to Heathrow. Despite leaving what I thought was plenty of time Heathrow offered up wing and after wing to be traversed and we just had enough time to grab breakfast from Costa. Once at the gate we had just enough time to consume our chain vittles. When we were called to board a lady ran up to us asking if it was my credit card in her hand, it was. Unwanted chaos avoided…just.

After a prolonged wait on the tarmac for a chance to take off we finally headed off across the Atlantic to the tune of announcements in French and English. After crossing the width of Canada we descended towards Vancouver. A winter wonderland opened up before us. Snow stretched from mountain peaks to the sea. As we approached the tarmac it became clear ploughs had cleared tracks in the snow for the planes. This was going to be my sort of the holiday destination!

Once disembarked, we headed through the airport. Not only were the people all genuinely friendly but the airport itself was just nice. Clean and warm with no graffiti in the toilets and varnished wood finishes on the walls. Cliché Canadians wandered the halls in fur hats and sturdy boots. We traversed customs and border control smoothly and soon found ourselves on the sky train under brilliant golden sun travelling over snow covered suburbs.

We got off the train at the closest stop to our hotel then made our way up to the street level and found a taxi rank. We approached the first cab on the rank as would be the correct procedure back home and a agitated Desi driver in the car furiously gestured us away saying “please take the last cab on the stand sir!” We obliged and as we drove away the cabs all reversed along. Very strange if you ask me.

We were dropped to our hotel, a historic joint of the sort that appeals to me, called The Barclay. After a quick freshen up we Ubered out to a craft beer bar called The Alibi Room. Here we feasted on burgers and the most delicious poutine I have tasted. My burger not only was packed with veg but a salad on the side could be had in place of chips. Refreshing to find a haven of sanity in the current sea of unbalanced concoctions of meat and melted cheese. I had a very nice ESB from Bomber Brewery. I would say it was an American ESB but I suppose Canadian is more correct. Then it was an uber back to the hotel and an attempt to sleep a full night through in spite of our jetlag.

* Who knows how many hours it actually was , long haul travel keeps its own time.