Vancouver Province
for August 13, 1999

Last weekend Wendy and I left anally retentive Vancouver and got an injection of laid back relaxation at Safeco Field, Seattle. And it was great.

Now, I’m not saying that everything American is good – lots of it isn’t including its inner cities, the cost of election campaigns and the sexual proclivities of the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. But things do change when you cross that border. In fact they change as the Amtrak train leaves the station and you hear a laid back voice, in one language, telling all about the trip in a jocular vernacular that attracts your attention instead of driving your consciousness ever deeper into what you’re reading. Smokers are told it’s very naughty to smoke on the train and are reminded than there are 26 bridges from here to Seattle if you’re caught puffing, do you get my drift? No moralizing - just a light-hearted reminder.

An off duty employee on his way home takes the elderly lady across the aisle into his personal care, gets her dinner for her and regularly checks to make sure she is all right. The announcer, again laughingly, tells us about the movie … "not Academy Award stuff but, if you haven’t a good book, it’ll pass the time."

The dining car stewards, both Chinese, are evidently the characters of the railway. While the food is what you would expect on a four hour train ride what it lacks in the area of haute cuisine it more than makes up for in the atmosphere of service. And the train arrives on time.

Going home, we’re first in line for our seats but in order to have them finalized the man in charge says we must wait for Linda - would we mind standing aside after he’s checked us in? In five minutes the crowd waiting for Linda is about 10 in number so the man-in-charge comes over and laughs. "That Linda, I never know where she is. You folks just get on that train and make yourselves comfortable, maybe have some breakfast, and Linda’ll catch up to you later." Such is tiresome bureaucracy dealt with by the head bureaucrat.

We went shopping in Seattle – nothing heavy duty. We both wanted some books and I wanted a fly fishing shop. Wendy bought a book which didn’t turn out to be the right one – it was a gift – and not only did the store give her the money back they went to the computer and printed out all the books the author had out so she could find the right one and order it from Vancouver. No profit in that except these two Canadians will remember the name of the store – Barnes and Noble - next time.

We went into a souvenir shop and asked for a phone book to find a fly fishing shop. "What store, sir?" When I told her she got out a map and circled the location. No big deal but there was nothing in it for her – except some goodwill.

Then the ballgame. Never mind the score or the new ballpark which is in itself a sight worth seeing. No, it was the experience. Hot dog dealers who can heave a dog as far and as accurately as John Elway can throw a pass and a beer dispenser who had the place in stitches as he peddled his wares more as a comic routine than an act of commerce. But mostly it was the crowd – a full house of 45,000 people to watch their hapless Mariners lose to the hated Yankees. With baseball, it’s a fun crowd. You don’t get that feeling of aggression and ill temper you get at football or hockey games. This is a family outing and it’s always good humoured, especially so if Junior (as Ken Griffey Jr is called) does something good. Which he did.

Don’t get me wrong – I go to lots of places in Vancouver where the service is great. People in Vancouver are nice and friendly. I think it’s just that Canadians aren’t comfortable with themselves. We’re not sure of our

own identity and are thus self conscious, so afraid to offend that we give offence.

I don’t want to live there but if you’re a tad uptight and want to lighten up a bit you can do a lot worse than take the train to Seattle for a ballgame.