Victoria, British Columbia
I had been to Canada before, once to
Ontario during a visit to Ann Arbor, Michigan and once on my second honeymoon
trip that included a driving tour of Niagara Falls, a trip through Maine to the
eastern Portland to catch a ferry to Nova Scotia – my second husband’s favorite
place to be. It had been ideal and our future plans included moving to the
Northwest Coast so we could continue exploring the beautiful states of Oregon
and Washington, as well as the coasts of Canada and Alaska. An early death
knell brought those plans to a halt shortly after we moved to Florence, Oregon.
Although I lived in Florence for sixteen more years and did
explore Oregon and Washington, I had gotten no further than Seattle. This trip
that included the Inside Passage of Alaska as well as a stopover into Victoria,
British Columbia was the culmination of our dream. I know Tom’s spirit was with
me during the entire trip because he is the person who guided me from my urban
outlook to one that included all of the natural world and its splendor. As the
ship docked in the harbor facing the splendid city of Victoria above, I was
still carrying that serenity resulting from, as Thoreau stated, “my time in the
woods.” Therefore, I had no interest in any of the tours that included the one
to Butchart Gardens which would have taken up most of the time we had at port.
Since I was traveling alone, I had no desire for a romantic carriage ride
through the evening twilight as the waning sun brought the lights adorning the
city to life. Once again, I hoped to lift the romantic veil and try to get to
know the character of the people who lived and worked here. I picked up a map
of the city center and hopped onto the free shuttle that would take me there. I
had no interest in Wi-Fi because I now had my phone service back!
On the drive up the hill to the city, I noticed how
splendidly clean and organized this part of the city was. Every piece of land
that could be utilized was carved into elegant apartment buildings and condos
and everywhere I looked I saw beautiful window gardens and plantings. I saw two
parks that advertised hiking and biking trails. It was 6:00 in the evening, so
I supposed the people who lived here were having dinner and making plans for
this Friday evening. The driver of the shuttle dropped us off at the corner of
Government Square and told us the shuttle operated every twenty minutes and we
could pick it up at an intersection that was right in the middle of the retail
district. Map in hand, I set out to visit the Empress Hotel (named after Queen
Victoria and famous for its afternoon high tea). As I walked into the lobby lo,
and behold there was a handsome Mountie in full dress uniform (be still my
heart) walking through the building. I have always been fascinated with the
Mounties and I do love a man in uniform! The Mountie was with a woman so I
politely asked if I could take his picture. Not only did he agree, the woman
with him offered to take a picture of us together. With that beginning, I felt
the courage to ask a few questions.
“Are you an actual Mountie or are you just doing this for the
tourists?” I asked.
“I am the real deal. I am actually on duty. I met my
girlfriend for dinner and I was walking her back to her car.”
“So, Mounties are really the police force here?”
“Yes, we are a national police force originally formed in the
19th Century to protect the Northwest Territories. Since that time,
we continue to provide the provincial police force in eight of the ten
provinces and three territories.” Ottawa and Quebec have their own provincial police
forces.”
I remembered the
mounted Bobbie I had seen working at the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham
Palace when I was in London so I asked, “Are you on a horse?”
The Mountie smiled and said, “No, we only ride in parades and
formal ceremonies now.”
I noticed another tourist coming up to the Mountie so I
smiled and said, “Thank you,” and walked away delighted that I had encountered
an actual Mountie.
Twilight had taken hold of the city by the time I left the
Empress so I proceeded as quickly as possible to the Parliament Building and
the square filled with monuments. The first place I visited was Totem Park. The
ensuing darkness made seeing difficult and all the buildings were closed, so I
spent the rest of my time in the square looking at other monuments. My
curiosity about the indigenous people who lived here never subsided, however,
so I did some research on my own about the Kwakiutl people – nomadic people who
fished along the coast of Queen Charlotte Strait and never really settled into
tribes until around 500 BCE after returning home.
From what I read, the Kwakiutl blended better with the
Europeans when they arrived than the other Northwest Coast people. First
contact recorded was in the 1830’s when the Hudson’s Bay Company took over the
sea otter trade. The Kwakiutl then
became wholesalers to the Company’s post at Ft. Victoria. The Kwakiutl traded
the sea otter furs for iron, steel and blankets. Smallpox decimated much of the
population of Ft. Rupert in the 1850’s. The disease was carried by the British
Royal Navy and Bella Coola traders who destroyed several villages, leaving the
disease to take care of the population. By the 1880’s, the Kwakiutl were moved
to what the government called “reserves” the equivalent of a reservation. At
this time, most of the aboriginal territory fell into the hands of the British
government. I wished I had had time to visit one of these reserves to see how
the people live today, but the priority of my trip was to visit two
reservations in North Dakota and Minnesota on the last leg of my trip. I still had a couple of hours in Victoria so I
left Totem Park to look at the monuments surrounding the Parliament Building.
There was a tall monument honoring the veterans of World Wars
I and II as well as the United Nations police action known as the Korean War.
There was another, more recent United Nations peace keeping engagement of Canadian
forces, but I didn’t write it down. It was somewhere in Africa or the Middle
East.
Directly in front of that monument there was a huge statue
marking the visit of the Prince of Wales to Victoria in 1914. I knew who this
was; this was the Prince who eventually became Edward the 8th in
1936, serving less than a year before abdicating because he found it impossible
to serve “without the love and support of the woman I love.” I wonder what will
happen when the current Prince of Wales inherits the throne will he too
abdicate in favor of his son, Prince William. I am fascinated every time I
delve into history and find repeated cycles everywhere. Maybe Parliament will
be more favorable toward Camilla – another divorced woman. As sunlight gave way to street lights, I started
walking down Government Street to eventually catch the shuttle back to the
ship. I noticed a crowd gathered around an area that afforded a view of the
harbor below.
As I took a spot on the wall, I saw a man peering over the
easement. He said, “boo” and then proceeded to walk in a backwards handstand
down the wall the street below. The man had the appearance of a street
entertainer, a bit disheveled but outfitted with some equipment that looked
like it belonged in a circus act. There were three men holding a unicycle against
a post and a chair and small trampoline with some knives and a hat. The entertainer began instructing the three
men who were audience volunteers as he mounted the unicycle and began his act. “When
I am seated let go of the unicycle and then get out of the way.” He instructed
one of the men whom he called by name to stay and sit in the chair provided. He
then called to a young girl whom he called by name and instructed her to throw
him a hat. This was followed by a speech about the importance of the tip to
street entertainers.
“The basic tip for this kind of act should be no less than
five dollars,” he said. He then pulled a five dollar bill from his pocket and
handed it to the young girl who smiled broadly as she returned to her seat. At
that point he talked about how dangerous his act was and the fact that he had
developed osteoarthritis in his hip. That made me wonder about health care in
Canada, but my musings were interrupted when the entertainer threw the extra
hat directly at me. He asked me my name and told me I was to be in charge of
filling the hat with tips from the audience above. The show continued as he
juggled the knives and kicked his hat on his head while balancing the unicycle.
He ended the show by inflating a black suit and jumping onto the small
trampoline below. I stood there holding the hat and pulled out a five dollar
bill and put it in the hat thinking that was all I was going to do, but people
started putting money into the hat. At the end of the show, I walked below to
return the hat and money. The bravado of the entertainer disappeared as he
said, “Thank you, Brenda. I really appreciate this.”
I didn’t know what else to say except, “You’re welcome,” as I
continued down the street toward the bus stop. As I had concluded, the stop was
located at the entrance to the retail district which was alive with music
provided by street entertainers and shops with banners announcing, “Come in we’re
open.” I was ready to return to the ship so I boarded the next bus that came along
and became lost in wonderment about the street entertainers. Where did they
live and where would they sleep tonight? Certainly nowhere close to where I had
been. Lost in thought I noticed the final image that would stay in my mind as I
left British Columbia. There was a solitary woman sitting on a window seat of
one of the retail stores. She looked much like the homeless women I see every
day in my walks through Old Louisville and Portland. She was surrounded by bags
of clothing and a suitcase and I assumed she was Indian and a Hindu. I decided
this because she had the red dot between her eyes on the bridge of her nose.
She just sat there, saying nothing, making no moves. I wondered, “Where will
she sleep tonight?”
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