Nobody 818

Sunday, may 30, 2010

Nobody # 818

Nobody Asked me But:

LA Times – “Songbirds don’t prefer to eat organic food” – which means they save lots of money at the supermarket.<<<

Vancouver is a city of art and architecture, of fountains and green and of tall.

Our hotel, the quite new Shangri–la, is the tallest of the tall, with the first fifteen stories making up an incredibly cool, incredibly high tech hotel, but one which was surprisingly inefficient in some areas of customer relations. Most certainly they were beyond polite, but here is where they fell short.

When we pulled in at about 3:45 pm, a very sweet porter-girl unloaded our luggage, but something seemed off in the way she did it. While I was supervising, Barb went to check in. When I walked into the lobby, she had been taken aside by a man who wanted desperately to whisper, but my wife would have no part of that. It seemed that the hotel had overbooked and was going to move us for our one-night stay to another hotel. Their “treat.” We told them we were not one but “four-nighters” and had made our reservation months in advance. The man whispered that there was nothing the hotel could do about the situation, but when we insisted on talking to someone up the management chain, he disappeared for about twenty minutes, morphed into an Asian woman, and took us to our mini-suite, a slight upgrade over what we had reserved.

Before I write about the wonders of the suite, I will tell you about the second incident. At about 11:20 that night, we were awakened by a roaring noise, repeated twice over the hotel intercom, followed by a voice announcing a building emergency and telling us that we would be notified when the problem was taken care of. Looking down at the fire engines gathering in the street below did nothing to calm our apprehensions. So we dressed and waited. In about 25 minutes there was an all-clear notice and, still a bit nervous, we went back to bed. We expected management to give us some kind of an explanation the next morning, perhaps a note under the door but there was nothing then or ever.

Now for the good parts. For our room on the 14^th floor, the electronic key was not for slipping in or sliding along. It was for waving at the lock to open the room door or activate the elevator. Then, as you enter your room, you deposit the key in a container, which activates all the room lights. They can then be turned off or on by individual and master switches as could the electrically controlled curtains and drapes covering the floor to ceiling windows in the living room and bedroom. And yes, I had great fun being the master of the master switches.

The bathroom also had an electronically controlled curtain for the window next to the tub. The shower was a walk in that required a Master’s Degree to operate the controls. (Luckily I have one.) There were two showerheads, one directly overhead and one high on the wall. There was also a very cool, hand-held rinsing device. And in the vanity mirror closest to the tub and shower was a miniature television set tuned to a financial channel.

We also had a large balcony with table and chairs, overlooking Georgia Street, but the weather was too cold for it to be of much use.

My Canadian hat trick:

I have a favorite black hat that I bought years ago at Timberland. I have lost it several times only to miraculously find it again. However, I seemed fresh out of miracles when I lost it again on our second day in Vancouver. We had been to Holt Renfrew, Taco Time and were shopping at the Bay (Hudson Bay Company, incorporated by British Royal Charter in 1670) when I discovered it missing. We quickly returned to the most recent and most logical spot, the Bay’s hat department, where I had been trying on a few railroad caps. We searched diligently and asked every clerk in sight. Nothing. Back to our other two stops. Nothing. Gone for good.

Two days later we went back to the Bay so Barb could buy me a replacement. Never giving up, I asked another clerk, and - you guessed it. Nothing!

We then “headed” to the hat department. I looked down among all the new ones, and (drum roll) there it was!

And, yes, I still got my railroad engineer’s cap.

BC highs, and a couple of lows – and almost a whale of a tale to tell:

It is always great to return to Granville Island and its wonderful market for the food displays and a few cool shops. Their new thing this year is to pile their strawberries high in the basket in the shape of a pyramid. While Barb was looking around, I was listening to a sidewalk singer doing “The Boxer.” Suddenly I noticed people rushing past. Then my wife came out to tell me that a whale had been sighted within a few feet of the shore of False Creek. We hurried close to the water but missed the thrill.

We had planned to eat at the market, but changed our mind and drove a short distance to a Mexican place, Las Margaritas, where we dined years ago. We sat in the patio, and the food was good, much better than was our state of awareness. We kept remarking on the number of patrons for a weekday at 4 pm, thinking this was really a successful restaurant. It was not until we were visiting another favorite, Mrs. Purdy’s, across the street, that we realized that it was May 5^th. (Barb celebrated her recovery from one brain freeze by getting another from her excellent espresso flake ice cream cone.)

I passed, because I am beyond hope.

A discovery and a two disappointments: When in Canada, we always eat at Hy’s Steak House, but this time we opted for a Hy’s spin-off, The Keg. Because it was restaurant week they featured two fixed price specials. We each ordered the less expensive $28 version. Good choice. While the NY steaks were only very good, they needed more seasoning, our first course choices, onion soup for Barb and shrimp cooked with garlic and cheese in what looked like an escargot dish for me, were excellent. And so were the two-bite deserts served in shot glasses – my wife had chocolate cake and I opted for the cherry cheesecake.

While covering the Winter Olympics, LA Times columnist, Chris Erskine raved about the hot dogs at the Japadog cart, so naturally it was on my must list. I didn’t like mine much. Other people obviously disagreed with me, as the line was long. Perhaps I ordered the wrong one.

By far our biggest disappointment was our dinner at the Fish House In Stanley Park. This summerhouse with its beautiful setting has always been one of our favorites. Five years ago, for the first time, it didn’t meet our high expectations. This time it was worse.

We had reservations, and when we arrived the place was less than half full, but we were seated at a small table that was encroached upon by a large green plant, which covered at least one-third of our space and seemed ready to eat either our dinner or us. So we changed tables and received thumbs up from two ladies next to us. It seems that they too had been a target of the “plant that ate Vancouver.”

As for the food, Barb's halibut coated with potatoes, which she loved in the past was less than mediocre. My sable fish in chili/soy sauce was good but not wonderful, and the accompanying risotto cake was very average. We may return to the Fish House again to take advantage of its beautiful setting, but only for lunch.

One last chapter – actually Chapters, which is the Canadian branch of Borders. Trust me. They do it better north of the border. The store is huge and the books are presented much more attractively then in their American cousin.

This is getting long, so I will stop here. Next week – our journey home and my quick trip to Arizona for Emily’s 8^th grade transition. You may consider this a promise or, if you are getting bored with my travel journals, a warning.

Pictured here are two views of a great sculpture just outside our hotel.