Pemberton Frequently Asked Questions: Reflections on Shame, Pride, and Culture Shock in British Columbia

Dear Pemberton residents:

I am awe inspired by the beauty of your community.  I feel privileged to spend even a couple days in such impeccable mountain scenery.  Just a few brief, minor concerns:

1.   If I accidentally walk onto the wrong grumpy old man’s property, will he open fire on me?

2.   See question 1 but replace “grumpy old man” with “ferocious grizzly bear” and “open fire on me” with “maul me and feast upon my flesh.”

3.   See question 1 but replace “grumpy old man” with “swarms of hornets.” I’m searching for the right metaphor for what they will do but “open fire on me” may be an appropriate use of language to describe them as well.

4.    See question 1 but replace “grumpy old man” with “yeti” and “open fire on me” with “kill me in a way henceforth unimagined by mortal man”.

5.   Have I missed other means through which I can be killed in Pemberton simply by walking through your woods?

The Great Wall

            I’ve had some amazing drivers throughout my travels in Asia, and our driver to the Great Wall was most definitely not one of them.  It didn’t help that I had to pee so badly that I didn’t even care about seeing the stupid wall anymore as the driver lurched forward then jolted to a halt over and over, unable to make any movement except the sudden slamming of gas, brake, repeat.

            The highway leaving Beijing was surprisingly civil and well organized.  I had heard about bad Chinese driving but assumed it was similar Thailand or Nepal where cars weave in and out of each other passing recklessly.  In Beijing I didn’t notice as much reckless driving as awful, slow driving.  Traffic would accelerate and then the driver would sit still for an exceptionally long time before jerking forward to fill the gap.  As I looked out I saw so many cars doing the same, jerking to stops and starts, absent any concept of smooth acceleration or braking.

Beijing 1: The Forbidden City

Monica and I found a cheap flight over a three-day weekend and decided to visit Beijing.  Arriving at the airport late at night we opted for a taxi straight to our hotel.  The taxi lines were well organized with ropes leading us into a tight queue.  Everyone in Hong Kong talked about how crowds push and shove to be first in Mainland China, and I was excited to see this myself.  I had both elbows out ready to go but was let down by how orderly the process was.  To be sure, Monica reported that a woman had blatantly cut in front of her in the woman’s room, but the men’s room had no crowd to fight with.

Guns in America

            I used to hear distant gunfire at night in Honduras, but I have only been in a public space once where there was a shooting.  I was attending an open-air music festival in Denver’s Civic Center Park.  It was shortly after the legalization of marijuana in Colorado and a sunny spring day: there were clouds of smoke hanging over the crowd as tie-died hippies stumbled around giggling, grinning, hugging each other, proud to be part of this historic occasion of enjoying their recreational choice without fear of jail time.  There were hundreds of people and no disharmony or conflict—it was a celebration of life, love, music and sunshine.

            Around 5 PM I heard the “bam, bam, bam, bam” of 4 gunshots from across the park and everything paradoxically went into slow motion while everyone moved faster.  People ran each other over screaming and darting for barricades, the street, and any sort of cover.  There was nothing behind us but a big open field and I felt totally exposed, knowing at any point I could be hit.  A girl fell to the ground in the stampede and I helped her up and put my arm around her for a couple steps before we separated into the chaos.

Nepal 3: Low Camp to High and back again

Part 1
Part 2

            We played more cards and sat and talked and went to sleep early in a freezing-cold mist.  There was the clattering of cowbells and my subconscious mind traced the cows paths up and down the hillside.  The next day we woke up early to grey in every direction and soon started up towards high camp.

 

           We ate and drank our tea relatively quickly at Low Camp.  The scenery grew more rugged as we started up the gently sloping path.  The many shades of glittering green from the forest below gave way to tall, dullish yellow grass with a brown path and grey silver rocks.  Shorter bushy rhododendron trees, which soon tapped out themselves, replaced the forest and soon only rocks and a grassy slope surrounded us.  

Nepal 2: Pokhara to Low Camp

After eating and sleeping I woke up early in Pokhara, again ready to finally gaze upon snowy Himalayas.  I couldn’t see the Himalayan range but could see the foothills from our balcony and the air tasted so sweet particularly after Kathmandu.  It was warm but with a cool mountain breeze and sunny with a bit of haze.  There were butterflies and colorful birds and green grass with cows munching away.  The lake reflected bright green and brown hills.  I felt better right away as we ate our breakfast, drank our coffee and gazed out at the lake.

Nepal 1: Kathmandu to Pokhara

            We got into Kathmandu at midnight, exhausted from a 5-hour flight from Hong Kong and a 6 hour layover in Delhi.  Adriana, Monica and I could tell before leaving the airport that we were not in Hong Kong anymore.  Dusty concrete floors led us past blocked off, newly painted white walls into a square brick room with low ceilings and crowds cluttered around in tight groups.

          We queued, then entered details into a visa-processing machine, then queued some more and paid a fee.  We posed for pictures, got inspected, got stamped, got welcomed to Nepal—then staggered to the money exchange counter where 300 US dollars gave me more 500 rupee notes then I reckoned I could spend in an entire lifetime.  Crowds pushed by as I crammed rupees into my wallet, passport holder and three different pockets.

We got a taxi and headed for the tourist district Thamel through dark, narrow, dusty streets.  There were tiny brick shacks held up by scaffolding and already we saw piles of bricks left behind by the earthquake.