In a world where “many” means “none”, “many” of you have asked me to document a day in the life of British Columbia via pictures. Here’s my attempt.

^ Wake up, check email, walk outside. White Rock is one of those fortunately planned cities that is laid out on a grid. It must have been designed by one of them en-jin-eers instead of just paving over deer trails or however most cities get their random road structure. My apartment faces west. I walk out and turn left to head south, to the beach.

^ One or two blocks. See water.

^ One or two more blocks. More water.

^ Closer to the coast, the streets turn San Francisco-steep. It takes me 15 minutes to walk down to the waterside cafe to get my coffee and 30 minutes to walk back up, my calves singing the whole way.

^ The pier. I will occasionally stroll out onto it on cool clear mornings when I know I don’t have 7 urgent emails to respond to because my web server is down or a client discovered his keyboard doesn’t have lowercase letters.

^ This row of shops faces south to the beach, which is off to the left of the photo.

^ Walkway. This is my evening running route, or at least the route I periodically contemplate running while lying on the sofa reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

^ Walkway, train tracks, and beach, with the pier extending out. To answer your question, YES, these tracks used, twice per day. As you can see they’re only about a yard - excuse me, a metre - from the walkway. Steve explained the layout of this beach to me while showing me around the apartment and added, “Every year we have two or three drunk guys on the tracks and they get hit by the train, eh?” He held an imaginary beer bottle in his right hand and pantomimed a person being dealt a huge blow from the left, throwing his right hand backwards. “Then they spill their beer.” He snickered. I still have no idea if he was joking.

^ Safety FAIL.

^ Beach. Low tide, 7 a.m. At high tide there’s no beach and the water laps up at the rocks you see in the lower right.

^ Got my coffee. Have to walk back up. Do not want to. Could be worse, though.

^ I didn’t take this photo, but I’ve seen a few of these black squirrels. Whoever knew there was such a thing? I mean, what’s next, green cows? Don’t drink that milk.

^ My building, “The Dorchester.” Sounds like an English castle.

It’s not.

I couldn’t find housing on Vancouver Island, except for a few on-campus apartments at the University of British Columbia. I know what goes on at college campuses during the first week back from summer vacation, I was there for about 10 of them. I declined that option.

^ Bleep bloop bleep. Hit “Enter”. That’s all I do, it’s easy.

^ Watch terrible Canadian television then go bed. Repeat.

As a postscript, for my driving edification, can somebody please tell me what a flashing green light means? I’m currently assuming it’s something like a flashing yellow light, i.e., I have the right of way but watch out for pedestrians and bad drivers.

Hopefully it doesn’t mean “Peacock Crossing”.

Last Friday, I drove from Spokane, WA to Bellevue, outside of Seattle. On Saturday I made my way up to White Rock, British Columbia.

When I set out to drive across the state of Washington, I was a prepared for a densely populated forest of tall pines, with ferns and mossy rocks covering the damp ground - similar to what I’d seen in the Idaho panhandle. Instead the eastern portion was much like western Nebraska or southern Wyoming: large seas of grain and grass, with hardly a tree in sight.

I spent the night in Bellevue, and I’ve already documented my experiences purchasing a Canadian cashier’s check and crossing the border. I can only say that I hope it’s easier getting back into the U.S. than it was getting into Canada, and I hope I don’t have to go back to counter A.

When I entered White Rock that afternoon, I took the wrong turn in a roundabout and got on another divided highway with no exit to turn around for eight miles. It started to rain. I finally located 1448 Fir Street and Steve, my renter, kindly stayed a while to show me every nook and cranny of the apartment and circle local landmarks on a few dogeared maps. All I wanted to do was sleep.

I carried a small suitcase up the three stories and turned out the lights, listening to the rain hit the roof above me. I was exhausted from the past two days but couldn’t fall asleep. Every now and then I’d chuckle. I’m living in Canada for a month. For no particular reason.

^ Eastern Washington

^ A scenic pull-off in the mountains looking down on the Columbia River.

^ Further west. Trees.

^ Those Washingtonians sure like their coffee and laptops. Or is it Washingtonites? Washingtonese? Ah, Washingtizzles.

^ Border.

^ I’m gonna be super-pissed if you don’t let me back in, ‘Merica.