This is Alex and me not quite four years ago. We were meeting the family in Vancouver, BC, for a Holland America cruise through the Alaskan inside passage. I took Alex up several days early and we hung out together, going to the park, kickin' it in coffee shops, and shopping at the great boutiques in downtown Vancouver. Great exchange rate then.
I found out what a hassle it is to travel solo with an infant. We had to pack for two full weeks, for both summer in British Columbia and a cruise where it could get cold. Just the cruise itself called for two formals (yeah, like they make a tux in size 3-6 months), casual wear, you name it. I packed two weeks' of diapers (that's 140 to be safe, for those who don't know), cans of formula, toys, a huge stroller (which you see here), and the kitchen sink.
Going through the hassle of customs to board the ship was the worst. Ramps, long lines. Papers at the ready. Big honkin' suitcase for mom. Had to bring videos and books and all that, too. Alex's suitcase. Stroller. Big Samsonite diaper bag. The purse to beat all purses. Baby (can't forget the baby). No wheels on Alex's suitcase, and the wheels on mine broke. Grrr. Can you see us on the gangway going bump-bump over every one of those horizontal bumpy things? I was literally kicking the suitcases ahead of us the last quarter mile.
Ah, but me, you know. Independent. I don't need any help, thenkyouverymuch. No, mom and dad, I am not incapable of taking my baby on a vacation to another country and on a cruise. Not a problem at all. They thought I was crazy. When the cruise ended, I stayed another couple of days in Vancouver with Alex, then we drove the car onto the car ferry and headed for Victoria, British Columbia. I love that city. We got a great deal on a hotel, a nice one with roomy accomodations. How, you ask, did I manage that during tourist season?
There was no hotel parking, even for a loading zone. No baggage carts, no nothing. You had to park in the eerily vacant lot two blocks away. At night. Alone. They had no bellhops, no stewards, nothing. I get to the door, finally, after having kicked the suitcases uphill two blocks (now you know how I broke the wheels). I'm sweating like a stuck pig, Alex is hungry, I'm starved, and all we want is to rest and eat. Lovely old elavators in a lovely old building. And you guessed it. Out of order.
Up four (count 'em, four) flights of stairs. Suitcases, diaper bag, purse, stroller, baby, and a lot of really bad swear words coming out of my mouth. It could have been worse. The three employees standing around in the lobby (the ones who would not help us, even when I offered to pay them) could have refrained from smiling and saying, "Welcome to Victoria!"
Key in door, bags on floor. Back down four flights of stairs with baby and paraphenalia. Restaurant? Closed at 5:00 pm. F**king son of a b**ch! Naughty traveller. Naughty. Bad mommy. Nothing open for blocks, and that's as far as I can go. Truly. The nice, nice employees let me exchange some American dollars for those looney things that work in the Canadian vending machines. Stale candy bars for dinner. Yum.
But hey, it was worth it. I could afford it, and it had been a rough six months as a single mom. I needed a vacation. Boy, this was the life. Actually, aside from Hotel California and the fact that there was no food in sight, it was good. I love Victoria.
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