Concerns about driving GPS-less have been mitigated by the extremely useful and amazingly accurate On Star feature of our rented 2012 Buick La Crosse. Getting lost on Vancouver Island may be impossible, at least for very long.
Situated near the center of Victoria with its captivating Inner Harbor, stately Empress Hotel, and imposing Parliament buildings, the Marriott is an excellent choice for our three day stay. Immediately, we are impressed with the consummate professionalism of each hotel employee. Our fifteenth floor room is spacious, cocooned away from any city noise.
A walking city replete with shops, restaurants, and neighborhoods to explore, Victoria easily enchants voyagers. High rise buildings co-exist with historical landmarks. Flowers bloom in profusion as if this is the last chance to allure admirers before seasonal weather destroys their bounty.
The Empress continues to command the waterfront and though it may be a bit tired, maybe even bordering on tacky in some areas, the storied grandeur can be imagined easily. Famous for its High Tea, dress codes have been relaxed to encourage more participants. Money rules and modifies fashion, even to include jeans which aren't torn or too low-slung.
Accents crowd conversations. Countless people from Europe and Asia have discovered the delights of this island city. Irish transplants abound, their voices distinct even after years away from the homeland. There's a palpable energy exuded by the residents who thrive in a flourishing economy, appreciate home prices that are anything but deflated, and utilize a health care system that includes all, regardless of economic condition or employment.
We're seduced by a candy store that bulges with sweet treats. Taffy will go home with us to be delivered to the neighbors. Gelato in myriad flavors cannot be ignored. I succumb to Mango Vanilla and Butter Pecan. Henry's savoring German Chocolate. The scoops were dainty. I promise. Also luscious and memorable.
On the hunt for Grower's Cider, Pomegranate flavor, we are directed to the rear section of a liquor store. The Quebec-born, French-speaking clerk accommodatingly checks U.S. customs rules relative to liquor imports. We purchase a six-pack well aware that it exceeds the allowed liters. Our Portland daughter hankers for this libation and we'll do our best to satisfy that thirst without incurring any dire consequences.
The hotel concierge recommends a nearby pub for dinner. The Sticky Wicket is a find. There's rooftop dining on a warm September night but we're shown a table on the first floor. Soon we realize that we are simply not in the rooftop demographic. No matter, we're content where we're placed. Henry orders a cheese pizza, special for the day. I'm nearly enraptured by Potted Salmon. This luscious concoction consists of puff pastry, a wedge of fresh wild salmon and a broth underneath laden with leeks, a white sauce, and bits of potato. The entree arrives in an earthenware bowl. I consume every single bit of this unusual dish.
On another day, we tour the Parliament buildings and are introduced to Canadian governmental practices. With lingering ties to Great Britain, the system differs from our own in significant ways. Truly, many of their concepts have great merit and might work well in this country. Not the part about having a royal family, but the dignity that is afforded civil service and elected officials. The people's expectations of their government are lofty and very often exceeded.
The architect for the grand Parliament buildings was a twenty-five year old immigrant from Leeds, England whose life story would make a compelling movie. His vision still resonates more than a hundred years after the buildings were first occupied. Since 1969, thousands of lights have illuminated the structures each evening.
Queen Elizabeth appoints a Lt. Governor to act as head of government for each of the Canadian provinces. As the first tribal member (referred to as 'First Nations') to serve as Lt. Governor in British Columbia, the current office holder opens Parliament and serves as the Queen's representative for many other functions. He is the head of government. The Queen retains the title 'head of state.'
Seeking a state-owned casino in order to add to Henry's burgeoning collection of player's cards, we venture outside of town briefly. The casino is small but the visit is very profitable. With that largesse, we return to the Empress and decide to eat at The Veranda, a restaurant set on the hotel's porch with a stunning view of the waterfront. Though an extremely informal setting, the prices are haute cuisine. An Angus beef burger is tasty but spendy. So too is my meal of fish and chips. Next to us is a table with four Southern California ladies in town for a golfing vacation. They're elegant, sophisticated, well traveled, definitely Empress quality.
Warm days dwindle into cloudy, jacket required hours. We're wearing our winter clothes. A very nice change for me.
Arriving too early to tour an historical castle, we serendipitously find the Lt. Governor's house and visit his garden instead. With beautiful grounds to maintain, volunteers are at work removing dead plants, adding topsoil, cutting back limbs. Members of the group may be of retirement age but are certainly agile, energized by their tasks. There's a sense of landscape tranquility all around and I have difficulty imagining such easy access to a governmental official's garden in this country.
The Royal BC Museum consumes most of an afternoon. Though impressive totem poles predominate inside and out, there's a curious display in the lobby. It is John Lennon's 1965 yellow Rolls Royce. Far from home, it looks rather lonely but still spirited.
We're saturated with local history as we stroll from room to room. Stunning artifacts include a miniature 1890's village, multiple masks as well as intricately carved recorders, pipes, and knives. The First Nations people are amply represented with dignity and reverence.
Famished from all this learning, we stop at Willie's Bakery and Cafe tucked in the corner of the museum. The cream of chicken soup, laced with slivers of carrot medallions, reminds us of similar soup enjoyed in 1980 while we toured Bath.
Drawn to a store called Out of Ireland, I search for Junkin heraldry. A nearby shopper overhears me and makes a few suggestions. She's on a day trip from Tacoma with her daughter. A Texas resident, her maiden name is O'Brien. Her family originally came from Mississippi. Natchez to be exact. (Are the planets colliding?) She's visited that city for a family reunion. This is getting weird. As we continue to talk, she says that she turned 65 last winter. I'm almost afraid to ask, "What month and day?" She's two days my elder. Another traveling story worth repeating.
Tuesday evening the suitcases are stuffed and taken down to the Parkade where our car is stored.
We'll face the customs officers in the morning and watch Victoria fade into the background as the ferry extracts us from this captivating land.
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