Old Vancouver Island and all (day 344)

So here I am back in Vancouver. Post Vancouver Island. And not suffering from post-Vancouver Island depression at all. Not that you should take that as a vote of no confidence in the island. Quite the contrary in fact. It is just that I have to leave tomorrow.

True, I got a parking ticket on the first day. My perfect hindsight says to me that the sign was not easy to read, being almost entirely obscured by snow and ice. One might also argue, if one were standing in court to defend me (at a moderate hourly rate), that it was snowing heavily (on top of the foot or two that had already fallen), and the entire downtown was basically deserted, given the weather, so that there was no shortage of parking spaces (which explains why I was able to park downtown easily and, ironically, had no need to park in a taxi stand at all). One could only wonder why a parking warden was out in that weather on that day. An egocentric fatalist might say that s/he was only there to give me a ticket.

So yes. Instead of heading over to the other side of the Island on Monday, I did not leave Nanaimo. I did, as usual, manage to get lost. To add some variety, though, I did so in a car. Lent to me by one of the helpful Canadians I was telling you about last time. The same one who gave me a place to stay, actually. And integrated me into her social circle to make me feel at home. How great is that?

Tuesday I actually managed some sight-seeing. I highly recommend a vist to Victoria (what do you see in him?). And especially the Bug Zoo, where, for a very reasonable admission fee, you can hold a live tarantula (do not be concerned, they do not bite humans, despite the bad reputation they have). You can also allow a Giant Brazilian millipede to wander up your arm, and see numerous amazing (bugs that are almost totally indistinguishable from leaves), big (bettles with giant pincers), small (scorpions – the smaller the more deadly), attractive (tropical fish-like insects), gross (a container of roaches) insects. Provided, at least, you have the elbow power first to push your way through the thronging crowds of excited children. Or you could go when it is not spring break, I guess.

I think I will have to come back here. Mostly because March is not the best time to do a bunch of the groovy stuff you (or I) can do here. Amother time, Highlander.

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