May 10, 2001 (Day 64)

May 10, 2001 (Day 64): Trailways bus en route to Seattle, Washington, US-Canada border crossing – 2pm

Health: good. Slept well but could always use a couple more hours

Morale: good. Departed Vancouver amidst another sunny, clear day. We were able to enjoy the emerald-hued lawns and trees and the beds of glowing flora without experiencing the aspects of a temperate rainforest that help make it so.

I am still surprised by the big market for Cuban cigars in Vancouver. Every other shop had a sign indicating their sale. “Ice cream and Cuban cigars.” “Baby food and Cuban cigars.” I am eyeing my father’s luggage with suspicion. I would not be amused to have traveled this far only to be derailed by contraband smokes.

We exited the major highway and crossed the border via a secondary road. I suspect buses and some other vehicles are requested to take these alternate routes to ease congestion at crossing points along the highway. Still, it only added about 10 minutes to the whole trip so it was not inconvenient.

The entire border crossing was very efficient. Everyone stayed in their seats while they unloaded the bags from the compartments on the lower portion of the bus. It was only after they had sent the sniffer dogs by that we were allowed to disembark and collect our luggage. The journey through Customs followed a horseshoe-like circuit. We entered the building, passed through the airport-like immigration and customs process, and then out the other door. The bus then pulled forward a few feet to collect us.

Curiously, there were two unclaimed bags: a garment bag and a suitcase. Despite having no stated owners, these items were cleared through Customs and reloaded onto the bus. Odd and unsettling, in a way.

Even stranger than the two bags were the two passengers we acquired at the border, each with enough peroxide and facial perforations to set off an apocalyptic panic at a Christian revival meeting. Their story was that they were on their way to Canada, but the Canadians would not let them in. Bill and Ted were only in possession of tickets to Vancouver, not to Seattle. But, they claimed, “this big, curly-haired, Canadian-looking guy who was just here” said they could take this bus back to Seattle. Phone calls were made and either tickets were purchased or this “Canadian guy” materialized and sorted things out. Either way, they were on the bus back to Seattle.

While I find their story more interesting than credible, what I want to know is: what physical characteristics make someone distinctively “Canadian looking”? Was he wearing a plaid shirt and carrying an axe?  Was he in a red uniform and riding a horse?  Was he listening to Bryan Adams? Was he William Shatner? Heaven forbid, was it all of the above?

If I was ever to be afraid of a Fifth Column in the United States, it would not be the Communists, the UFOs, or even the Bavarian Illuminati-fronted Girl Scouts. It would be the Canadians. They look like Americans, act like Americans, some even talk like Americans. This Canadian Charm School has been fully operational for well over 50 years, routinely sending agents across the border with impunity, attempting to infiltrate the highest levels of American life. Which actor epitomized 1980’s button-down American values in a weekly sitcom? Michael J. Fox. Films and television shows purportedly taking place in American cities are filmed in Canadian cities to further confuse the American populace and pave the way for would-be overlords from the Great White North. Alex Trebek’s routine condescension of the brighter game show contestants our country has to offer. Hockey, for heaven’s sake. Why does any state south of Iowa have a hockey team?  What could be more unnatural than a hockey team in Los Angeles?  What will it take for the US to wake up and notice these subversive elements in our midst? Curling?

Amtrak Empire Builder near Wenatchee, Washington – 8.30pm

Despite arriving during rush hour, the bus ride into Seattle was fine. Space Needle. Mount Rainier hovered, wraithlike, above all observing all activities within the city. The driver pointed out the various landmarks and gave a bit of history. Of particular interest was a brick building near the station which was featured in nearly every newscast about the earthquake that hit Seattle in February . Months later, it was still behind yellow and black police tape.

Seattle is clearly ground zero in the current American craze for coffee. There are coffee shops across the street from coffee shops adjacent to coffee shops. A casual gaze indicates that the same could be said about bars.

The short, wide deep houses built with great views of the Puget Sound have given way to farm houses. Emerging from the mountains, the verdant surroundings slowly give way to scrub brush and drier environs on the leeward side.

We are past the Cascade Mountains, having gone through the Cascade Tunnel at dinner. At 7.8 miles, it is the longest tunnel in the US. We were eating dinner so it mattered little to us. Of course there really is not much to see in a tunnel anyway.

The train is following the Wenatchee River approaching the city of Wenatchee, one of the many Apple Capitals of the World. Our route through the Cascades has been alongside various streams and rivers that populate the valleys. Spring is here. While the mountains are still streaked with snow, the trees outside our windows are flushed with leaves. All is lush. Ferns battle to remain rooted amidst the ad hoc waterfalls fueled by the melting snow which feed the streams and rivers that share our course.

Our train carriage is classic 70’s vintage. Vinyl coverings on the seats, emblazoned with orange and rust colored patterns. Downstairs compartments come complete with lime green molded plastic furnishings. The accommodation is rather, um, cozy. Two seats below which convert to a lower berth and a bunk overhead. The cabin is wide enough for the bunk. The closet, such as it is, is about four inches wide – sufficient room for a couple envelopes but not nearly enough room for our bags, which we stow in the common area downstairs. I had forgotten the aspect of the two-level Amtrak trains where passage between the cars in only possible on the upper level, the lower level being reserved for toilets, showers, storage and a cabin or two. Not a lot of creature comforts, but we are not going across Siberia. It is nice that my parents have the cabin just across the hall from us. The hallway is so narrow that two children could not pass each other, but that makes it good for carrying on conversations and passing bottles and cans of Funky Soy Sauce potato chips across the way.

Our attendant, Rodgie, is a rotund and sporadically cheery fellow. He looks as though he has swallowed an entire vending machine and appears to suffer the mood swings I would associate with someone who has participated in said activity. Being nearly as wide as the aisle is, he and his shadow must proceed single file. He tries his best to appear pleasant and jovial, but this facade is not even skin deep. He sits in his cabin and dispenses answers tersely. In his fleeting moments of civility, he mentions that he trained as a chef and worked as a chef with Amtrak before becoming a steward.

Meals are included with the cabin which is a nice convenience. In addition, we are allowed all the soft drinks, coffee, and Ghirardelli chocolate we can consume provided we are willing to defeat Rodgie in combat. The part that confuses me is whether or not we need to tip the serving staff. Are they not, after all, government employees? It is kind of like seeing a tip jar at the Department of Motor Vehicles.

When we arrive in Spokane this evening, the sightseeing car will be attached. This should make for great viewing as we pass through the mountains and Glacier National Park.

Excerpts from Anna’s journal included

• Canada
• ChasingFogg15
• Seattle
• Travel
• USA
• Vancouver