In the past, my annual trek to Vancouver to catch the Canucks in the early season has been a guys' trip. It was again this year, except the guys I was with are 7 and 4 years old. This changed things, but not as much as you'd expect!

-- We left Portland Monday morning at the unbelievable hour of 5am. The idea here was to get a good, solid chunk of driving done before the boys woke up. I was trying to limit the number of times I heard "Are we there yet?". This was a fool's errand. Despite the fact that they didn't wake up until we were well north of Seattle, I still heard it 132 times. Then, the border!



-- The Canadian authorities were surprisingly cool, despite the fact that I was an adult male traveling with two young boys and no sign of Mom. (I did, however, have a nice, notarized letter....) I would have sent me to secondary, but I was thankful these guys didn't. Just like that and we're in a foreign country. First stop: a Mohawk station on King George Hwy for some strange, Canadian candy. The Canadian confectionery companies will be pleased to learn that the candy passed the yummy test.

-- Driving on Hwy 99 to Vancouver, I passed the Richmond Mosque, which, the last time I saw it, had a large sign on the field between the highway and the mosque praising the government of Saudi Arabia for building it. Fantastic.



I'm not sure what that yellow flag is to the left, but it had flashes of green. I hope to God that it wasn't a Hezbollah flag. I'm sure it wasn't. Last time I was around here I stopped at Tim Horton's for a doughnut and some coffee and let me tell you, you haven't lived until you've seen a woman in a full Taliban-issue burka trying to eat a Maple Dip.

-- We arrive! We check in, which takes 12.3 seconds. Then it's up to the 28th floor and our view. Man, I love Vancouver.



-- Next, we take to the streets for lunch. The kids decide that they rather like Canada. One of them takes to analyzing the city, pointing out all the subtle things that are different. The other takes it upon himself a personal mission to ensure that I don't miss any maple leaf. We took approximately 2 and one half steps per pause to admire a maple leaf.

Distracted, I promise lunch "wherever you guys want." Ten minutes later I'm in McDonald's. Which means 100 more little maple leafs to admire.

-- Yes, leafs. I am a hockey fan, after all.

-- Warning, serious stuff: I've lived in Portland for close to 10 years now, and I just have to say that the comparison between it and Vancouver just makes my adopted hometown look pathetic. I spent close to 5 hours downtown with 2 young boys and was not panhandled or accosted by angry "homeless" youths once. There was no urine on the walls, not much graffiti, and there were not hoards of obviously mentally ill people stumbling about.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not trying to make Vancouver into some sort of paradise. It has its seedy side, too. And it was hard not to notice from the headlines that the city was going through some kind of three-way Hells Angels/Indo-Canadian Gang/Youth Gang war for the drugs trade.

But the bottom line is that I easily saw 100 decent, ordinary people for every one sketch case. People were dressed nicely, much more nicely than at home. And it was hard not to notice the relative lack of obesity.

More than that, the city was alive in a way that Portland and other American cities are not. There was life in the cafes, conversation, and despite some chill in the air the sidewalks were crammed.

I've mentioned this before, but it just never ceases to amaze me. Politically, I believe the American system is the best in the world. But I've never been happier than when I haven't had to actually live in America. Canadian politics drive me nuts, but I'd rather spend 5 years in Edmonton than 5 in Seattle, easy.
Red-State mind, Blue-State soul? Or is it, as a half-Quebecois/half-Irish person I am split by the urge to secede and unify at the same time?

I can't explain it, but let me tell you, I've made my mind up: my next big purchase will be an apartment in one of these tall Vancouver buildings. If I hit the lottery, perhaps I can fulfill a childhood fantasy and buy the top floors of the Hotel Vancouver....



-- We stop off for a snack and take the Skytrain to GM Place. The comparison to our Max comes to mind. Not one thug or gangster on the train. And the Skytrain moves at easily three times the speed.

-- GM Place. The crown is streaming towards the arena. Luongo sweaters seem to predominate, though the Oilers are well-represented. We get in time to catch the pre-game skate.



-- The Canucks won, of course. 2-1, taking the lead on a sweet, sweet Sammi Salo wrister that took place about 20 feet in front of me. Luongo looked sharp, but so did Roloson. The Oilers really miss Pronger, but are still contenders. The Canucks have one line, no more. It's going to be a long season if we don't find some dang offense.

-- That night: a late night snack and the Simpsons. One of my sons finds CBC in French and wants to know why the Spanish sounds funny. He is amazed when I explain to him that he is hearing the language his grandfather spoke every day until he was 11 years old. He finds out his name is French-Canadian. He decides he likes this very much. Wait til he sees Montreal!

-- In the morning, we hit a Tim Hortons on Oak Street and head for the border. Six hours later, we're all back home.

-- Resting, I curl up with the Globe and Mail, the Province and the National Post.

Yup, Canadian politics drive me nuts.

But what a beautiful, wonderful place.