Halloween

The world around me is slowly turning orange as the end of the month October is nearing. Instinctively I thought of an influx of Dutch sports fans. They are traditionally dressed in orange and are very well capable of coloring an entire city. But I quickly realized that the world Championships soccer are not due within the next couple of years and that the speed-skating season has neither started, nor does it have Vancouver as its center. 


Nope, Halloween is forthcoming which means that there are big orange pumpkins everywhere. Real ones, ready to be carved into masks or as a familiar shape in all kinds of expressions.  

 
 

And it does not look all that bad either I concluded after I had a look at the shop window of the local 'Save-on-Foods'.

Kids are in for a fantastic time going from house to house in order to ask for treats such as candy or nowadays even demanding money. Albeit not at gunpoint, yet. Should the house-owner refuse to give in to the demanding little beggars, mischief will be performed by the disappointed door knockers.  However, it normally does not come to the 'playing-tricks' part. The average house-owner is quite willing to oblige and if not so probably pretends not to be at home by turning off all the lights. It can get a lot nastier though. There are house-owners that try to scare the living daylights out of kiddies that dare to stray onto their property. I for one can fully understand why they do such a thing. After all, being tricked is not a pleasant experience at all. Therefor many different attempts are made to keep the little beggars away.

Rather innocent ones...

 

...and more sinister attempts.

 

And it does not stop at carving pumpkins either. House-owners get very creative for a smashing effect. Starting at the gate. Or should I say startling at the gate.

The sun disappearing after the horizon is no reason to stop either. Lighting can add an extra touch to an already scary setting. Very entertaining.

And do not be fooled. A lot of work is required to reach this result and therefor all help is welcome. Be aware though when your neighbor asks whether you can give him a hand. It can turn out rather different from what you expect...

 

De Dutch

'Birds of a feather flock together', is an old saying that even today has some truth in it I gather. Not only for the flapping ones but also for the Canadians. One will find a large Chinese community in Richmond and surroundings where shops sometimes only carry billboards with Chinese characters on it. Delta, another town nearby, is also known as Delhi due to the large East Indian community that is centered there. And in my own neighborhood in Surrey the Sikh from Punjab are very well represented. I dare say that the aforementioned saying is true. Due to a lack of future in the Netherlands just after World War II, a large number of Dutchies made the decision to try their luck overseas. Australia, New Zealand and Canada found themselves confronted with clog wearing strangers from the old continent. But with a country as big as Canada there is plenty of space for everyone one would think. I would think so but found out that Dutchies also fall prey to the old 'bird' saying. There are quite a few of them around in the Fraser Valley, especially further down East, and on Vancouver Island. And have we gone out of our way to make ourselves feel at home. I found a shop that caters specifically for the Dutch immigrants and their descendants. Not the only shop of this kind either. 

Realizing that Canada is different from Holland and that Canadians are different from Dutchies, an attempt to fuse both worlds together has been made. 'Fusion cuisine avant la lettre' so to speak, with the pancake as solid foundation.

 

Even for Canadians that suffer from cold feet there is a first step they can take. Vancouver houses 'the Dutch Bros', the countries largest privately owned coffee chain. Founded by the Broersma brothers and just having opened their third store in Vancouver. This may seem not all that many considering the size of the greater Vancouver area with 2.5 million inhabitants, but then we are talking about Vancouver in Washington State. Yep, same name, and also named after George Vancouver who explored the inner harbor of Burrard inlet in 1791 and subsequently gave various places a British name. Or named it after himself I would like to say. The point I would like to make is that wherever Dutchies end up, they do their utmost to share their cuisine with the people around them. How hospitable is that?

 

To make Canadians feel even more at ease among Dutchies and more at home with Dutch culture, I even saw that the opportunity is offered to dress up like an authentic Dutchie. And it does not take long to impersonate a fisherman from Volendam. But where the clogs are part of the deal, the fisherman's friend obviously is not. And that is a pity... 

 

Power search

BC Hydro is the main electric distributor in British Columbia and as its name indicates puts the waterways to good use, to energize the residents. Now, personally I have no objection against hydroelectric power. But it comes with a serious flaw, power surges. How so? Well let me enlighten you.  Lets for arguments sake assume that the current that BC Hydro delivers in my meter box is generated with the help of a Canadian river. Like the Columbia River. Indeed, the river where the Americans get the leftovers from. Standing on its shore and looking over the water it is obvious that the volume of water that passes is not the same all the time. Far from it I dare say. But the engineers of BC Hydro have found a clever way to deal with this inconvenience. A dam. No you Dutchies, not A'dam. In case of the Columbia river it is the Revelstoke dam that harnesses the bulk of water coming from the Columbia River. Only a trickle of water is allowed to pass to meet the craving for energy of a city like Vancouver. However, even a trickle consists of waves and troughs. And there you have it. The perfect breeding ground for power-surges. The turbine wheel will spin leisurely when subjected to a trough in the water supply. But you better run for cover when a wave is approaching, spinning the turbine wheel almost out of control and thus causing a surge in power. Great for white water rafting or canoeing, but evidently less so for the electric equipment in a residential dwelling. It is therefor of the utmost importance to deal with the aftermath of a power surge without delay to prevent the economy from grinding to a halt. In reality though it can take quite some time to get things sorted after a power surge has occurred. Not all that surprising as I found out recently. BC Hydro likes to uphold an image of being a 'green company'. And rather than having their power cables woven from kelp, BC Hydro decided to decorate the local distribution points. Who can object to that idea? Well, I can. To support my argument I collected a few samples of the 'fruits of enthusiastic decorator's labor'. I rest my case. 

 

 

 

Cannot see the problem? Let me explain. Whenever a power-surge occurs, BC Hydro engineers jump in their cars and rush to the affected neighborhoods. And there they run into serious problems. The decorators have done such a good job that the distribution points blend perfectly in with the surrounding flora. BC Hydro engineers can often be seen driving frantically through the neighborhood in search for a particular distribution point. Locating that particular one can thus become a lengthy quest. But, there is a silver lining even to this cloud. BC Hydro's state of bewilderment after a power surge has provided 'Post Canada', with a valuable lesson. Rather than having their mailboxes blend in with the surrounding flora, 'Post Canada' have chosen to make them stick out like a sore thumb. No searching required here. Neither for the residents who want to post their mail, nor for the Canadian postman who empties the mailboxes. A word of advice to the boys and girls from BC Hydro is in its place I think. 'When going green, make sure that the distribution points can still be seen'. Thus preventing a 'power-surge' from turning into a 'power-search...'

Hooters

The introduction of the iron horse caused a lot of commotion in these days. Locomotion to be precise. Cows stopped producing milk and glazed at the huffing and puffing lump of steel that passed their view. The gaze of men wandered from the charming ladies of that time to the ugly machine that screeched past. Things have changed considerably since the early days of rail transport. But, have they really? Like in the days of the 'wild west', rail transport still relies on the presence of two lengths of steel at a precise distance from one another. And where other modes of transportation have moved on to wheels that are wound with rubber or even hover over a magnetic field, trains still stumble forward on steel discs. Not that wide either. But surely something must have changed for the better in all these years. What about the safety of rail transport? I got a bit puzzled here. 

Coming from the Netherlands where trains run more more than less on time and can do so because disruption by cars passing the tracks is largely impossible, I would have expected to encounter the same situation in Canada. Wrong. Yes, there are barriers put in place to prevent motorist from straying on the tracks in front of passing trains in most places. But what a shoddy job that has been. Often only half the road is blocked. Not much of a problem when the road is level. However, stopping on a grade just after the railroad crossing is a different story as ones car can slowly roll back onto the track.
 







 

Not at all imaginary considering that most motorist focus on an array of other things but driving their car. It would have gone unnoticed I fear. And Canadian trains have a problem stopping in a hurry because they consist of a lot of wagons and and are very heavy. On top of that, not all roads have barriers.

Rest assured though because train-drivers in Canada have found a solution for the missing barriers. Hooting, using the train's air horn. I have heard them passing by doing so and it sounds pretty impressive. Loud enough to blow you out of your shoes should you be wearing those, and potentially costly at that. And although I can hear the trains hoot their way through Sullivan Heights till late in the evening, I for one do not have a problem with the Canadian train-drivers being 'hooters' as it solves a serious problem. Sadly though even this solution sometimes falls on deaf ears, as I found out the other day when browsing the Vancouver Sun's news-page:

'Teen girl fatally struck by train was listening to music and texting'

Hence a word of advice. Hooting train-drivers do not make up for the use of common sense. Use yours and stay off the tracks and out of the train's way, if you want to see the end of it...
 

Cranberries

The oldest town in British Columbia hosted the annual Cranberry Festival on the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend. Fort Langley, situated on the banks of the Fraser River that is. And I am not talking about pop-festival here with an exclusive performance of 'The Cranberries', the Irish rock band from Limerick. Although I must confess that I spotted a few people walking around like 'zombies'. Just like The Cranberries' describe in the lyrics of their same-named song. This most likely also was the reason why the RCMP kept an eye on things. Thanks to the beautiful weather, which looked not so bright earlier that day, people came in droves to attend the festivities. And to walk their dogs. Or giraffe. 
 
 











But at the heart of the festival there were cranberries. Lots of them. And rightfully so because the name of the festival would otherwise have been rather a silly choice.
 
 









The festival did not end with a line up of stalls where a plethora of goodies were offered, as I found out when I had reached the end of the seemingly endless line. There was a boat-race held on the Fraser River. Not like the ones with powerful motorized skiffs, navigated by people 'well passed their teens but unwilling to  admit it'. Nope, these boats were propelled by 'elbow grease'. Not much of a thing when paddling downstream but different altogether when paddling upstream. It came as no surprise that the place was rife with real blokes and girls and that the faint hearted were altogether absent.

'Paddlers to be' were obviously anticipating a hefty exercise as I saw them moving frantically to warm up their muscles. Eventually however, they all ended up in their Canadian canoes, bobbing on the waves of the Fraser River. 


To me the race itself was more of an obstacle race. All the boats were directed to the starting line downstream of the bridge over the river.

Shortly after the paddlers started stirring the water with their paddles, orders were shouted to throw pumpkins of the bridge. Yep, pumpkins. I was also asked to throw one down but not to aim for the canoes. A pity I think as it would have made things a lot easier for the paddlers. Every boat had to pick a pumpkin up whilst 'speeding' towards the turning point some 500 m upstream. The boats then had to return to the starting line, once more passing under the bridge. This was a piece of cake as it was all downstream now and no pumpkins had to be scooped out of the water. But there was another task to be accomplished. The boats had to paddle to the shore, where a lovely lady was awaiting them. Or waiving at them I must say. Once the boat was beached one crew member, with paddle, had to get out and was given a glass of cranberry juice. Balancing the glass on the paddle the crew member then had to 'run' to another lady some 100 m away, hand over the cranberry juice and receive in return a bag of cranberries to be taken by boat to the finish line. The crew member had to jump back in the boat as well.

 
 










The finish line was situated upstream of course. Which I thought was a good way to separate the men from the boys, and the females from the girls. Many paddlers were looking quite sweaty, could hardly stand on their feet and had a bewildered look in their eyes when they finally got back on 'terra firma' after finishing their heat of the Pumpkin Race. How aptly named.

  


Someone I did not expect to find climbing out of a boat was a Viking. Not this far up the river and not in this day and age. The only Vikings that can be found around here nowadays are called Nilfisk. And they suck...