If polar bears were people they would have the best collection of takeout menus (posting from the road)

I used to think I was like a hippo...generally lazy in appearance...out of shape and unassuming but secretly lethal. Appearing all sweet floating under the water but with the capability to bite a person in half should I so desire. Now I think maybe I am more like a polar bear.

Aside from the obvious...Canadian and adorably cuddly... Polar bears are quite misunderstood. Depicted as vicious human hunting predators by various YouTube videos and the Discovery channel but then as adorable, lovable bears that just need a relaxing carbonated beverage by Coca Cola. So...who to believe? How can the same bear that says "ahhh" and holds up that iconic red can then crave human blood so much?

Today I climbed into a giant Tundra Buggy to try and find out. A tundra buggy is a gigantic custom made truck - the wheels that sits 5.5 feet off the ground and the passengers are another 7 feet above that. It's probably 14 feet wide and has rows of school bus seats that seat 40 people. There is also a small viewing platform out back that I can tell you does not hold 40 people. But it can drive where no other vehicle can - across the tundra to polar bear point.

We saw a few bears enroute to the "hot" zone - at least per guide JP said they were bears...they looked a lot like rocks to me. But once we entered the promise land were encountered a few very curious bears. They were little (for polar bears) but appeared huge when trying to climb on to the buggy for a little exploring. I almost dropped my camera when one small female I was photographing stood up right under me - looking through the view finder makes objects appear closer than they are too. The bears spent a lot of time just sitting their heads cocked, smelling whatever was wafting out of our buggy, and wishing for a little bite - same way most of us look when the scent of chocolate is in the air.

Located in the hot zone is a tundra buggy hotel - essentially just a bunch of tundra buggies strung together and retrofitted to have bunks, showers and an eating area. Given the remote access to this hotel and the astronomical prices I am sure the people pay, there is a whole slew of daily maintenance that has to occur. The curious bears in the area have now been labeled as nuisance bears as they have limited the staffs ability to maintain the hotel. Today we watched as two maintenance men were cornered on top of a truck and later on the hotel by a bear that appeared nothing but cuddly the whole time.

The biggest laugh of the day came when the Austrian born cook and one of the bears had an unlikely encounter. Normally the bears are opportunistic - much like me. They aren't actively seeking food but if something were to fall in front of them, they would eat it. One of today's s bears was either very curious or  on decided to make a teeny attempt at rattling a human free from the buggy.

The young female bear hoisted herself up onto a narrow diagonal pole that hangs under the buggy...balance on this narrow pole...and explore the floor above her - which happens to be the grate floor that separates two of the buggies.

We watched this from the safety our buggy while the poor maintenance guys were trapped on the roof. Then someone spotted movement through the windows of the dining buggy - the cook was on the move. She proceeded thought the buggy, oblivious to the fact that that she was about to be essentially standing on a bear.

She stepped onto the platform and a cacophony of yells from us and the maintenance men appears to overwhelm her senses. After what felt like an eternity she glanced down and saw the bear gazing up at her through the grate. I wished someone had measured the height of her jump...record setting.

Of courses she was fine...like I said the bear is opportunistic - waiting for the food to be delivered - conserving energy - much like me…(it’s one thing to cook dinner but another to have it delivered to your door...)

My conclusion...polar bears are kind of like us. Some days you just want to lie around and avoid people. Sometimes we can be curious and want to explore the world around us. But no one will say no to Thai takeout.

Would you die for the shot? (posting from the road)

It was what I thought was the end of a long day...and so when I tucked myself into my cozy bed at the Tundra Inn I figured nothing could get me out...until I saw the telltale dancing green lights out the window. The northern lights!
Having been warned about the dangers of walking the streets alone in Churchill, MB after dark - I only cautiously stepped out for a quick pic. Turns out the tourist ladden town had the same thought and the streets were jammed with snap happy folks. Knowing that vicious polar bears tend to avoid camera wheeling crowds, we all banded together and ventured down to the shores of Hudson Bay for a glimpse of the lights without light pollution.  What greeted us was astounding...bright green ribbons appeared to dance across the sky...it was impossible to take a bad photo.

Now in my defense, I didn't take any photos. In my hurried departure from the hotel, in my pajamas, it appears as though I forgot essentials such as mittens, a toque and a flashlight. Not having travelled recently, I have not had reason to use my SLR and was just recently trying to get reacquainted. Well, it seems in my rushed, fatigued and now slightly hypothermic state, I could not recall where the buttons were located, how to change the shooting modes or even what apapature meant. Every now and then while randomly turning knobs and buttons with my numb fingers, I would press the shutter and invariably set off the flash. This would obviously annoy the serious tripod wheeling members of our impromptu gang and I would be treated to dirty looks (or at least I imagine that - far to dark to actually see anything).

I tried to smooth it over with small talk while attempting to gain information..."what iso are you set at" or "what's your shutter speed". It didn't seem to matter. Oh sure, people would begrudgingly respond to me but even if I could find those controls on my camera , my fingers were far too numb to adjust anything.

The 10 pm curfew horn sounded and admitting defeat anyways, I hitched a walk with a couple from California who were not sporting cameras and headed in my general direction. I admit, I also selected them because they looked marginally slower than me (he had a cane). Turns out - not necessary - no bears to dodge.

A few minutes back in my room, when feeling began to return to my extremities, I sat down with my camera and made the now obvious adjustments. I knew it was late and dangerous but I really, really wanted a Northern Lights photo. So I dressed warmly and quietly crept out of the now silent hotel...I would stay close I rationalized...maybe the bears are just misunderstood? I slowly opened the front door of the of the hotel - I wasn't sure if I was more scared about the bears or getting caught doing something wrong.

One foot was out the door when I heard a loud blast. The first attempt to get rid of an wanted bear in town was to set off a 'scaring' device. This is done before trapping or tranquilizing it and taking it to the local "polar bear jail". While I was unable to pinpoint the exact location of the blast, the fact that my ears were still ringing was a clear sign that I needed to retreat...

The photo you see at the top is not mine. It looks just like the photos that we're being taken that night by the professionals. The other photos I did take - from the safety of my hotel room.

What is the cost of just one sip???

"One of these things is not like the other"...that song has been running through my head since I arrived in the vacation mecca of Whistler, B.C. On my previous visits I have been able to conceal my inability to ski by the distractions of the 2010 Olympic Games or the searing heat of July. Unfortunately...it's January, smack dab in the middle of prime nordic adventure time - and I stand out like a sore thumb. The narcissistic side of me feels like all the North Face clad skiers are staring at me with a quizzical look..."why is that obvious alpine novice in our presence?"

So while Pam tackles the hill, I have remained lodge bound...with an ecualyptus steam room, heated outdoor pool and jaccuzzi tub. I'm holding up.

One of the in-room magazines highlighted a unique cocktail at Bar 52 Eighty; the Peak to Peak martini was described as "The Pinnicale Apres - heavenly ascend in a glass". How could we not go and have a sample? So to start a night out, Pam and I ventured next door to the Four Seasons Bar, plopped down in some fantastic fireside leather chairs and ordered a few glasses of Heaven. Our first sign of a problem should have been the wide eyes of the waiter...he stuttered that they had officially stopped making the drink but that he would speak to the bartender see if the reciepe was available. The waiter returned shortly and presented a creativly layered libation with flurish for our approval.

One sip of the cocktail told us that some appetizers would be required to help absorb alcohol if we were ever to make it respectfully to the door. Ahh the Whistler life, sitting fireside, sipping our fancy martinis and nibbling on Lobster and truffle potato skins...not a care in the world...until the manager appeared. You know when you have made a hasty decision that will eventually come back to haunt you...a haircut with bangs, marriage, skipping breakfast...I was quickly getting that sinking feeling. Mr. Four Seasons Manager came over just to chat with us, a distinction that he appeared not to share with other guests...he enquired as to how we were enjoying our "Peak to Peak" martinis. After we suitably gushed over the drink, Mr. Manager lamented how it formerly was their most popular cocktail...until the downturn in the economy. Que sinking feeling. I tried to swallow the pricey sip I had in my mouth, while smiling and nodding at the manager that was mentally planning to stiff with the bill.

Of course I wouldn't acually do that...but the thought did cross my mind. Someone watching me from a far would have been undoubtedly puzzled by the contridictory facial expressions of anxiety vs bliss as all thoughts of the loan I would need to take out to cover the cost of this drink dissapated as every pricey sip of top shelf warmth swept over me.

Then the bill arrived. It was extreme. No, I am not telling you the cost - quite frankly because it makes me look like an idiot. But if I can give you a little piece of life advice...try and always see the menu first, but for those rare instances when you don't - savour every sip...

(Ingredients for your own...Remy Martin 'Louis XIII', Absolut Vanilla, Hill's Absinthe, White Creme de Cacao, Elephant Island Framboise with a Curacao soaked mountain ice cube - feel free to invite me over....)

Victory on the Mountain

I credit Kirsi with the next awesome experience in my life, it was her that suggested that we try and get tickets for one of the Bobsled events. Online to the scalpers we went and just a short time later we were in a motor coach being whisked up the Sea-to-Sky highway for the Women’s Finals of Bobsled.

The event was in the evening – this gave us the time to wander through the quaint alpine village of Whistler. I watched as Kirsi fell in love with the town, which is really not hard to do. In the main center of the village is a memorial to Nodar Kumaritashvili, the luger who tragically died on a practice run shortly before the opening ceremonies. It was both heartbreaking and amazing to see the out pouring of grief at the loss. (My friend Zoe was telling me about a bar that she was in for the Opening Ceremonies; the crowd was rowdy and having a great time but when the moment of silence started, you could hear a pin drop. Although it wasn’t one of our athletes, Canada took the loss of Nodar Kumaritashvili to heart).

As the afternoon came to a close we started to make our way to the Whistler Sliding Center which is located partway up the southeast slope of Blackcomb Mountain. The best way to access it…gondola! Of course there was a line up, but with our “special” hot chocolate courtesy of our fantastic hosts Matt and Zoe, time just flew by. Entering any of the Olympic Venues involves a series of line ups for security and ticket checks, generally fairly fast moving with everyone in great spritis, welcoming the guests with a smile. I was just getting my ticket scanned when I heard my name called out. This is just over the top I thought…to learn the names of ticket holders…wow VANOC, above and beyond! Quickly realizing that this didn’t make much sense, I turned to see a childhood friend of mine, Carol Evans, scanning tickets. Small world…Carol doesn’t live anywhere near here, she just came to volunteer for a few weeks.

After a quick chat Kirsi and I trudged the rest of the way up the mountain in the drizzle into the bowl portion of the sliding track. I have never seen bobsled live before and had no idea what to expect…my advice, don’t blink. We were at the end of the track and by this time the sleds were reaching speeds of up to 150 km an hour – they would shoot by so fast it was virtually impossible to see them. Standing back from the edge of the track helped a little…gave you a larger viewpoint to try and follow the sleigh.

The evening was full of excitement, including a few scares when some of the sleds flipped over. There was a collective gasp from the crowd when one of the German racers came out the back of the sled and careened down the track behind it. For a moment there was no noise while she laid there, then the crowd erupted in applause as she stood up and waved. I never did hear how she fared but she did walk to the ambulance under her own power, plus stop several times for many standing ovations.

Going in to the evening and after the first run of the night, it looked like Canada was going to take the Bronze and the Gold, with one of the US teams primed for Silver position. The second last run of the night started a round of cheering that lasted for over an hour. It was at the end of this run that everyone realized that the US team came up just seconds short and the new medal count would have Canada in Gold and Silver position!

Even though were cold, wet and no longer able to feel our toes, we stood there, along with a few thousand of our fellow Canadians and celebrated our victory on the mountain that night...

"Rock" stars don't disappoint...

There are many people out there who would prepare for a curling match by studying the players, their records or just even learning the rules of this unique sport (yes I said sport). I prepared by attending a Bon Jovi Concert. You see only a rock concert could compare to the level of unbridled enthusiasm and sheer decibel level of screaming that occurs at Olympic Curling in Canada.

My fantastic travel buddy Kirsi and I decided that we absolutely had to attend a few events while at the Olympics, so we sucked it up and bought a few scalper tickets. The first was to Session 12 of the Men’s Curling, where Canada would be guaranteed to be playing - and they did not disappoint. Kevin Martin, the skip of team Canada, who may resemble an accountant, was cheered for like a rock star when he entered the arena. The only time you could hear yourself think was when a member of team Canada needed to focus on a shot. Kevin led his team to an easy victory over China in 7 ends, giving Kirsi and I a chance to chance to focus on two other exciting games.

On sheet three we watched the Norwegian rink, with their awesome pants, take on and ultimately defeat Great Britain. Those few of you out there who are unfamiliar with curling may not have seen the costume-like uniform that Norway selected for their curlers…the pants were a checkered plaid pattern, not unlike traditional golf clothing, in red, white and grey. They were bold, attention grabbing and wildly popular – there is even an entire facebook page dedicated to the pants. Frequent shouts of “Norway we love your pants” could be heard throughout the game. I don’t think they were designed to be performance enhancing but Norway did go on to victory that day….(and ultimately a silver medal…who got the gold – well Canada of course!)

The second game we focused on was the super hot Swedish rink who was taking on Denmark. I know you typically don’t think of Olympic poster boy athletes to be curlers but…trust me, they are worth a Google. Appearance aside, they can also fantastic curlers, making some unbelievable shots to defeat Denmark in the full 10 ends. This was the last game for Denmark so they stuck around for a bit, posing for photos and enjoying the atmosphere. We actually bumped into them a few hours after the game down in the Gastown area of Vancouver…small world.

My ears were ringing the rest of the night after the cat calls, cow bells, foot stomping and just sheer screaming from that afternoon match. Followers of Olympic curling said that there has never been another venue where this level of pandemonium was reached for the sport of curling. Yes loyal readers who know nothing about the sport…start learning, for shortly curling will be mainstream - maybe a spot in the X-games is not too far away…

I AM CANADIAN

I looked around at a country I did not recognize. Sure, it was clean and the people were friendly. It was lush and green – plenty of Tim Horton’s…it certainly seemed like Canada. What made it foreign was the overwhelming amount of pride and patriotism that I saw. Canadians have always been proud of their heritage and country, we just do it in a more reserved fashion. I have endured harsh critiques from some of my American friends who have visited Canada and thought that we were not patriotic enough. My stock answer has always been that you don’t need to have a flag hanging outside of every Gap in order to be proud of your country. We know what we’ve got, no need to flaunt it.

Well we seemed to have changed our tune for 2 weeks in February – GO CANADA GO was plastered on everything from store fronts to buses in the city of Vancouver. I did not see one building that did not have a Canadian flag flying somewhere. Kids had drawn maple leaves on the sidewalk in front of their houses. Flags became acceptable to be worn as capes. It’s almost as if we saved up 20 years of patriotism and unleashed it over a 2 week period.

I had the privilege of travelling to Vancouver Canada, my home country and witness history first hand. “The most hospitable Olympics in history”, a statement I couldn’t concur more with. Despite a few initial hiccups which were harshly criticized in the international media, I think VANOC did an unbelievable job. Transportation was extremely well set up. I was always in sight of a volunteer in a teal coat eager to help if needed. The line-ups were quite reasonable – and even became fun as you chatted with people from all over the world. People would cheer after a score was announced by a random passerby. Many chances to enjoy some free hot chocolate certainly made any waiting more bearable. I was in a bar that randomly burst into a rousing round of 'Oh Canada' after the Womens Hockey team won gold. For Canadians – that level of unreserved national enthusiasm is just unheard of.

Those who know me, or have even met me in passing, are well aware of my athletic abilities – I grew up with a wall of participation medals. I have never really been part of a team(and I don't count the years of VP/kids soccer where I was always that kid that ran from the ball…the one that everyone tried desperately NOT to pass to) It will seem very cheesy to those who weren’t there (and maybe even to some that were) but walking through the streets, with everyone was dressed the same from our toques to our sweatshirts to our red mittens - it seemed as if we were all in uniform. Even the athletes on the podium were wearing the same clothes. I was finally part of a team – a winning team that kicked ass I might add! It was a feeling on inclusion that I cannot imagine will ever be duplicated. Thank you Team Canada.

My words will never do justice to what I had the chance to see and be a part of...I think it was actually a Molson Canadian commercial that said it best..."We have more square feet of awesomeness per person then any other nation on earth". Damn right - glad the world stopped by to see for themselves.

A classic cadillac, a communist and a catastrophe on a mountain - my minibreak to BC‏

My mom is in town. This means countless trips to the overcrowded, touristy hot spot of Pike Place Market. Countless. To buy peaches, one at a time. (For those who have never been, it is a very cool outdoor/indoor market in downtown Seattle that sells fruits, vegetables, seafood, flowers and assorted crafty things - it's where they throw the fish to entertain the crowds. It is neat and I do love it, but just like the entire state of California, so does everyone else. In summer this means droves and droves of cruise ship tourists who pour off of the boats, cameras in hand and take endless pictures of Rainer Cherries and halibut packed in ice. Then there are the tourists who bring their 4WD stroller down to the market and ram it through the crowds....I love the market but I strongly dislike it in the summer months - I am not sure you could find a local Seattleite in the market between May and Sept)

So to reduce the number of times I would be subjected to tourist trap hell we decided to take a little road trip - to beautiful British Columbia! Not terribly far from here, not overwhelmingly exotic but they have Tim Horton's and they don't tend to throw seafood so it sounded fantastic to me.

Our first stop once we made it into the motherland was at a family friend's (Tim and Raven) house in Langley B.C. (okay that was the second stop, Tim Horton’s was the first stop). There was a recent baby born there so my mother needed to get her grandmother fix in and play with little Judah (who was mighty adorable). We then decided to take a little trip into Vancouver with our friends from back home to see the highlights of the city. Traffic/parking restrictions made it so taking one vehicle would be a better option - we all piled into Tim's 1960 Cadillac and went for a spin through Gas Town and Stanley Park. So in the car is Tim, Raven, Judah, my mom, me and Boosapaul. Who? It's a long story as to exactly why Boosapaul ended up with us that involves a missionary 'trapped' in God's work and a C-section, some other time, over beer. Anyway, Boosapaul is a Cambodian national briefly allowed out of his country (the government let him go because they still have his wife and children) to come to Canada. He has never been out of Cambodia before, he sleeps next to the bed on the floor in Raven's guest room, he is constantly bowing to us, he didn't find the 35C/103F weather too hot and is a former member of the Khmer Rouge (don't hold it against him, they killed his entire family and gave him no option).

My mom loved our little tour through town. She sat in the front of this Cadillac like she was the Queen of England - not that I ever imagine her majesty would be nestled between a surfer looking hippie and a former member of the a communist dictatorship. We shortly parted ways and my mother and I settled into a Vancouver hotel for the night to sleep but mostly enjoy the air conditioning.

I awoke early and set out to find coffee, and my mom packed - our things and anything that wasn't bolted down in our room (sorry Sutton Place Hotel), before our next adventure. An early morning stop at Granville Island, Vancouver’s equivalent to Pike Place Market, allowed my mother to get her market quota filled before we set off on the Sea-to-Sky highway. This is a picturesque 120km or so drive that links Vancouver and Whistler - mountains on one side of the road and ocean on the other. On the actual road are thousands of construction workers leaning on shovels. I think the idea is that they are there to make the highway wider to accommodate the 1 billion or so people who intend on passing along it during the 2010 Winter Olympics’. Hmmm considering the limitations of mountain and ocean, the highway, at absolute best, and certainly not in all areas can never be wider then 4 lanes and will quite frequently need to drop to 2 lanes. I think they should give up on the highway and devise some sort of magical portal between the 2 Olympic venues - I'm guessing the construction workers think like me and that explains why they were simply shovel leaning and not actually working.

Alas after far too long we reached the quaint mountain town of Whistler. More utilized in the winter months on account of the mountains and skiing, those crafty folks have managed to find a way to get precious tourist dollars from summer going non-alpiners. Genius. You purchase a lift ticket, ride the chairlift to the top and then...well then you are at the top. It is quite nice up there, I mean if you are the sort of person that likes mountains, and wild flowers and glacial lakes. We also were able to ride the peak to peak gondola that connects Blackcomb and Whistler mountains. Quite a little feat of engineering there I might add.

At one point I noticed an oddity; the tourists were being herded, like mountain goats - we were rapidly being forced into a chalet. I frantically looked around for my mother and discovered her sitting on a bench, chatting on a cell phone to my sister, oblivious to the hundreds of people rushing by her for cover from what I now could see was a fast approaching lightning storm.

We, along with a few hundred other people, we then locked in a chalet at the top of Blackcomb Mountain. All the chairlifts were turned off - there was no way off this mountain except walking - at an elevation of 6000 feet, with nightfall approaching and a mother with recent bilateral hip and a knee replacement - this was not an option. No one else seemed to think so either. So we all sat and waited while pick up trucks arrived to truck everyone down the mountain. If this was Guatemala - no problem, we would all be down in no time. But this is rule-following Canada, so with every extended cab pick-up truck able to hold five people with seat belts and then slowly proceed down the unlit mountain road at a safe speed....it was estimated it would take approximately 10 - 12 hours to get us all off. Not to worry, they opened up the concession stands to sell us beverages and snacks.

Safely back in Seattle now. Have to run, we are off to....wait for it....Pike Place Market.