International Fugitive - Victoria, BC - 6005 Miles

We were unsure if we would go into Canada on this trip but still having $4.65 in Canadian coins from my last trip in 2006, I felt obligated to make a trip just to use the money. Yesterday we bought two round-trip ferry tickets and made the 18 mile crossing from Port Angeles, WA to Victoria, BC. After filling out the Customs form on the ship, I headed down the gangplank. Only three steps off the boat I heard and felt the distinctive plop of a deposit from a passing Canadian seagull on the brim of my cap. Some also splattered onto my sweatshirt. Terry gave me Kleenex to wipe what I could and I held it while waiting in line to speak to Customs. I hoped for a trash can along the way but thought possibly they didn't want people dumping things right before Customs and I may still have it with me when I reached the officer. I could imagine the ensuing conversation:

"Do you have anything to declare?"

"Well, I have this Kleenex full of seagull shit."

"Please step out of the line."

Mercifully I found a trash can along the way. Rest assured when I reached the Customs officer I voiced my displeasure at the welcome I received to their fine country.

"I see," she said. "If you are superstitious some people believe that's an omen of good luck."

I'm not that superstitious.

"Oh, look," she continued. "You are lucky. You have both been randomly selected for a closer look by immigration. Please step out of the line. Go around the corner and wait in the room. An officer will come question you."

We got to the empty room, sat down, and waited. I looked around and was relieved to see there wasn't an area conducive to a full body cavity search. However I did start recalling episodes from the cable TV show "Locked Up Abroad". It tells the story of someone who thought it would be a good idea to smuggle drugs in a (usually) Asian third-world country and the ensuing chunk of their life spent in a prison resembling something out of Midnight Express. I pondered my possible future in a Canadian prison, but the worst treatment I could come up with was possibly being served really bad tea.

Finally an officer came in, took our passports, and went to another office. Did I forget a parking ticket or something on my last trip? Did my $4.65 in Canadian funds somehow enter into it? The officer returned, handed us our passports, and said we could go. For the first two blocks I kept looking over my shoulder to see if we were being tailed, but I saw no one.

While in Victoria I took the required pictures of the Empress Hotel and Parliment.

















We walked through town to find a pub where I could satisfy my craving for bangers and mash and a pint. They also came with something called "bubble and squeak". I had no idea what that is. The waitress tried to explain but the only words I really caught were "yams" and "tubers". I've learned from experience the less you know of the details of British cooking the better off you are.






After the return trip we went through US Customs. The officer took my passport and repeatedly alternated between looking at me and looking at my passport. "Oh no," I thought. "Here we go again." Finally he handed my passport back to me.

"I had a hard time recognizing you," he said. "You've lost a lot of weight."

"Why, yes I have," I replied. "Thanks for noticing."

I like US Customs.