Sunday, 6 June 2010
Vancouver, Canada
Disturbed to discover my credit cards are not working. Necessitates a discussion with a call centre in India. On a dodgy line. You can guess how it went. It’s a fraud check having picked up credit card activity in Korea on the same day as card activity in Vancouver. All cards have been stopped. No. I don’t know my sodding telephone banking PIN number. No. I don’t know the exact amount of the past three direct debit transactions. No. I don’t know the exact amount of a recent transaction in Seoul in Sterling converted from Korean Wong. Moron. Half an hour later. It’s resolved.
Cards now working can book a hotel in Jasper for tomorrow night. Miss Vancouver recommends the Fairmont Park Lodge Resort on the lake and find a rate on the internet. Miss Vancouver rings a friend’s sister. Who fortuitously works for Fairmont. Who very generously allows me to take advantage of her ‘Friends & Family’ staff freebie discounted rate. 30% discount. Thank you very much.
After a fabulous lunch with Mr & Mrs Vancouver at the Fairmont, meet up with Chuffy. So called because he used to have sideburns not dissimilar to Mr Chuffy in the BBC adaptation of Martin Chuzzlewit in the 1990s. The name has stuck ever since. An old colleague I used to work with in Nottingham. Not seen each other for 13 years since he emigrated. It’s as though we only met last week and an enjoyable few pints reminiscing about the good old days. As you do.
Arrive at the VIA Rail station for the overnight departure to Jasper. And the start of crossing Canada by rail. All the way to Halifax. On the east coast.
Au revoir Miss Vancouver. Thank you. It’s been a blast. We’ll meet again in Seattle in 2019 on my Antarctica to Alaska trip. For further fun on Hornby Island. And more often in the UK.
Evoking the golden age of rail travel, saxophonist serenades us travellers down the platform. The Trans-Canadian train consists of the original 1950s stainless steel carriages with the rear carriage being bullet shaped with large windows. To see all those trees.
Cabin is small. Oh dear God. It is small. Having quite broad shoulders and a rucksack prevents me from going through the narrow door smoothly. Bit of contortion required. And a heave ho.
Skydome car is double decker with an observation lounge on the upper deck with glazed roof that pops up above the general roofline of the rest of the train set with a 360 degree view. Imagine it’s what a WW2 Lancaster bomber gunner in his bubble might have experienced.
Champagne and canapes as we pull out of Vancouver.
All very civilised.
Retire to my cabin. Swing. And cat. There’s an ensuite toilet. Coffin sized. No shower. Hand basin in the cabin inset into a recess. So. This is how they used to travel in the 1950s.
A leaflet shows a 1950s family in their cabin. The mother, in a long dress, is combing the young daughter’s hair. Father is in bed relaxing and reading.
Ah yes.
The good old days.
