The Roo Olympics

I’ve been thinking about the Olympics – for what reason I don’t know because I am not a winter sports fan and therefore not particularly an Olympic Fan. Still, the ‘Boxing Roo” flag the Australians draped across their part of the Olympic Village, epitomizes the determined spirit that is alive as the Games are about to open. Living on Vancouver Island does not give us the sense of excitement that is perhaps prevalent in Vancouver. But sitting on the sidelines as a spectator does help to put these Olympic Games in perspective from a personal point of view.

I like the idea of the games because they are a once in a lifetime event for the host city to showcase itself to the rest of the world. Even though they require massive amounts of planning and money, I think they are worth it. There is a sense of national pride because the Canada and Vancouver are hosting the Olympics. There is a huge congregation of top athletes in one place for two weeks, not only competing for the highest honour, but also fostering camaraderie among the nations of the world.

The Olympic Games themselves are an historic event, having first been introduced to the world in the 8th Century BC where they took place in Olympia, Greece. They continued on until the 5th Century AD when, for some reason, they were abandoned. The Games were resurrected by Baron de Coubertin in 1894 when the first International Olympic Committee was founded and they have been growing ever since.

Apart from providing the host city and country with substantial economic benefits, there is the benefit of visitors coming from all over the world to see the games, and mingle with local residents, providing a potpourri of friendliness, entertainment, participation, excitement and, of course, a sense of global unity. Factored in is the historic journey of the Olympic Flame travelling from coast, to coast to coast. All Canadians have had a chance to be a part of this unique event and the nationalistic feeling it evoked.


What is the downside? Many people will sum up by saying it is a waste of time and money. Others will rebel and protest because they feel the amount of money necessary to host the Olympics, could be used for something much more worthwhile. The truth of the matter is that money has to be raised to cover the cost of the Olympics and would the same money be raised to cover the cost of deserving enterprises here at home?

In Vancouver there are also problems perhaps not encountered in other countries because of the geographical location of the city. Problems like traffic restrictions on many of the roads in and around the city. Before the games there was a general hue and cry about the lack of space to house visitors, but we now find there is still accommodation available in various parts of the city, and indeed at Whistler itself.

The media is naturally having a feeding frenzy on the subject of a possible ‘snowless’ Cypress Mountain and the deleterious effect they think it will have on the events taking place on Cypress. I suppose one could go on with a litany of woes which are always present at an event of this magnitude. But they will get us nowhere because the Games have come to Vancouver, whether we like it or not, there is snow on Cypress and they are about to open in a no doubt extraordinary fanfare and hopefully to provide many gold medals for Canada.

Vancouver and All That: The Lost Car

I stayed with my son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter Vera, while in Vancouver, and discovered that Vera had very little in the way of books to read. Apparently her books were left in the Philippines because transporting them by air was a no-go due to weight. So, I promised Vera that I would buy her some new books when I went out on Monday.

Monday afternoon found me in the children’s book department in Chapters, Metrotown.I had a wonderful time, but unfortunately my legs were causing me problems because of all the packing and cleaning over the weekend, so I had to keep resting. Sitting down was what I was going to do anyway, because I had arranged to meet second son and ex-husband in Metrotown and they were never on time. We were going to younger son’s condominium for negotiations on the purchase of the property.

Of course, they were late and late and very late, so I decided that the best thing for me was to return to downtown Vancouver as it was getting a little late for a meeting. Off I went to get the car, but upon arrival at the parking place there was no car. Around the mall entrance area I walked a couple of times, getting more panic stricken because in the trunk of the car was a fair amount of cash which I was to give someone downtown. Finally, on legs which would hardly carry me I made my way to the mall administration office to enquire whether any cars had been towed. No, they had not and it was suggested I see security right away.

Following their directions to the security office I couldn’t find it (typical), and almost in tears, I made my way back to Chapters to sit for a while. Suddenly, manna from heaven – a security guy appeared walking out of Chapters and I immediately flagged him down. Unfortunately, he didn’t represent the branch of security I wanted, but he did kindly offer to have a rep from traffic security come to me, so I wouldn’t have to walk.

The traffic security rep arrived five minutes later, seemingly quite enthused about assisting a doddery old woman who had lost her car. He told me how, quite often, people lost their car in the parkade, because they couldn’t remember where they had parked it. I vehemently denied that this was the my case. I was always attentive as to where I parked my car in parking lots and parkades, so there was very little possibility of me having forgotten where I had put the car.

At his request, I gave him all the details, took his duly offered arm, and rode the escalator down to the next floor. We went through the same procedures as I had done when I came to look for the car, and nothing was to be found. Finally, as we walked back into the building again, he turned and asked me if I had checked the lower floor!

Ding dong! Acute embarrassment swept over me because I hadn’t even thought about the lower floor. However, the embarrassment was tempered by the excitement of possibly finding the car and the money. Down to the next level we went to find the car. As we came out of the building doorway and turned in the direction of the parking spot, there gleamed a touch of bright red front car body belonging to my rented car. I could have jumped for joy.

The security rep couldn’t have been nicer in the face of the chagrin felt by yours truly. When we arrived back at Chapters, he even offered to go and find my son who was hopefully looking for me just outside the main entrance of Chapters. When they arrived back, I knew by the look on Michael’s face that it would be a while before I lived down that experience. I had hoped it would be over and done with that day. Fat chance!

Vancouver and All That….. The Skytrain

My next adventure in Vancouver, following the shock of the parkade rates, was an incident the following evening.

I had been working non-stop packing and cleaning at the condominium and decided to call it a day at about 10:00p.m. Son number one called me from downtown and offered to come and collect me from Burnaby in the car. I assured him there was no problem and he could pick me up at Burrard station downtown from the Skytrain.

Off I went with friend Bob who drove me to the Metro station and I boarded the Skytrain after just a few minutes wait. Settling myself down in the middle coach, to the rear, I took out some reading material (don’t even remember what it was).

At the following station a couple of men boarded the train. One was tallish, a little on the chubby side with a round face and totally out of it – drunk as a lord. The other was much quieter but seemed prepared to follow up on any remarks that came non-stop from the drunken one.

When they stepped onto the train, the first thing the drunken lord shouted was “Well, there’s grandma and how’s grandma this evening? I nearly died, but I am not sure whether it was because of fear or outrage. Outrage that apparently I looked my age – how dare they! Hadn’t I been told dozens of times that I didn’t look my age? The lesser drunken lord made his way to behind my seat and sat down to peer over my shoulder to see what I was reading, while there was a stream of unending grandma remarks coming from the drunken lord who had parked himself, thank goodness, by the door. There were no abusive remarks uttered, but I slowly started to get quite concerned because I was not sure where it all would end.

I sat rigidly staring at my book, not giving them the satisfaction of even recognizing the grandma tirade and I could see the three young girls in front of me showing a bit of concern.

Having received no joy in getting any reaction from me, the two men suddenly disappeared down to the other end of the car, and started on another subject. I relaxed a little, but not for long, because they soon came back and started on about grandma again. All of a sudden, one of the young girls sitting opposite to our drunken lord let him have it.

“For f…….. sake why don’t you just shut up?” she yelled at the top of her voice. “Leave her alone”. (Grandma, that is).

Just as she was about to hurl further rage in his direction and I think, if necessary, get up and hit him, we drew up at a station, the doors opened and there was a couple of Skytrain policemen. Never was I or anyone else in that car so thankful as they yanked the drunken lord out of the car onto the station platform.

The young girls in front of me immediately turned to make sure that I was OK, and I assured them with a forced smile that I was a tough old bird and would survive. They were not to know that I had a very heavy handbag at the ready at all times, and would have lashed out with all my strength if the drunken lord and his mate had approached me physically.

We concluded that, unbeknown to us, someone at the other end of the car must have called for help and there was definitely a communal sigh of relief when the closing doors shut out our intruder.

What a journey. Obviously I had been living in the past and had expected the journey to be calm and uneventful. Fat chance!

Vancouver and All That………..

It’s a New Year – 2010. However, it is a disastrous New Year for all people living in Haiti, and our thoughts and prayers must go out to these people facing a seemingly non-existent future, based on a very poor foundation of a past.

Welcome back to my Blog, to which I have returned with a multitude of New Year resolutions, knowing full well that practically none of them are going anywhere. That sounds like a bit of positive thinking, doesn’t it?

Thought I would write a few short blogs during the next couple of weeks about some very recent, unplanned and unwanted experiences on a trip to Vancouver. My mission to that fair city was to provide some help (mainly cleaning) for ex husband who was moving out of his condo, and to see my lovely granddaughter.

Instead of going on the ferry as a foot passenger, this time the mode of transportation was via rented car because I had to take some household items to my son and daughter in law, who had just moved into an apartment after arriving back from a sojourn in the Far East. They had not a stick of furniture or anything else for that matter, so the cry went out to family members and I volunteered to do my thing.

For me, driving in Vancouver is a bit of a nightmare, but I managed quite well until I arrived on the corner of West Georgia Street and Burrard. Here I had to find a parking place in order to meet an old friend for lunch, who I hadn’t seen for about four years. I must have been out of my tree if I even vaguely thought (which indeed I did), that there would be a parking space waiting for me to install my car. Fat chance! After doing the grand tour of the vicinity for about half an hour I was resigned to going into a parkade.


My friend and I had a wonderful lunch and a great catch up session, both of us ruing the difficulties of living at opposite ends of this vast country of ours. After about two and a half hours, she went her way and I went mine, back to collect the car. Not having a clue about the cost, I had my ten dollar bill ready to hand to the attendant, but was informed that the cost was $21.00! I had to ask him for a second time because I simply didn’t believe what he said; I had a heck of a time composing and reminding myself that the parking attendant had nothing to do with setting the sky-high rates in the parkade. After taking time to retrieve the additional payment from my bag, I reluctantly handed over the money.

With the stress caused by this exorbitant bill, it took me a while to set the car on a straight course to my son’s apartment which was not that far away, thank goodness.

Ah, well, more next time on this trip.