Day 344

the trio of johnsons dropped me off at the ferry terminal in downtown victoria this morning. i am leaving the island. after pulling my cash from my canadian bank account i hopped on the ferry headed south for port angeles, washington, with no real way to get to where i needed to be after that. today was also my official leaving of canada and i turned in my work permit documentation upon boarding. i no longer belong here.

i was ready to test faith again today. maybe not test it, but i was ready to put faith in the forefront of my limited perspective and therefore be ready for anything to be revealed. this morning i was getting on a ferry in victoria, bc, bound for the olympic peninsula with no idea how to cover the additional 82 miles to port orchard, washington, where my friend parker's mom could pick me up. the 10 a.m. sun was bright and warm and i had my backpack and a yellow rolling duffle bag. all these things greatly excited me.

'there's no easy way,' said the direction man at the information booth on the ferry. 'there aren't any buses that go straight to where you need to go. if you hop these county transit buses you might be able to make it by seven.' i wrote down the series of departure times and bus numbers on a page of my green, back pocket notebook: port angeles to sequim to port townsend to poulsbo to silverdale to bremerton to port orchard. 'most people just cut across the puget sound on a ferry if they're on the way to seattle,' he said. 'and most people are on there way to seattle from port angeles.'

he gave me a white sheet of paper with washington's major highways crudely copied on one side. i thanked him and returned to my seat and memorized the highway routes and tucked it in my pocket as a backup plan.

i was faced with a familiar situation after disembarking, breezing through customs, and stepping back onto american soil- do i go left, straight, or right? i went right for a bit but stopped. i went back and started going straight from my origin. 'hey, my bank.' i was halfway down the block to deposit my canadian money when i stopped. no- back again. i went back to the curb across from the stream of vehicles now streaming off the ferry through customs and unfolded the white map of paper from my pocket. i'd written 'seattle?' in black marker on the blank backside. cars drove off, mostly elderly vacationers in their nice cars and straw hats. i tucked my long hair under the green coal beanie and continued to hold the sign out and tried to look friendly enough. suddenly a small, four door audi quattro pulled up and i recognized the young couple as passengers from the ferry. 'we live in seattle,' they said. 'get in.'

their names were glen and andrea and work as an artistic glass blower and in an office, respectively. they're probably in their late twenties, i guessed, and glen's blue eyes reflected in the driver's mirror and between his thick black hair and an equally dark beard. andrea was in the passenger seat and had blonde, long hair. of course i wasn't heading to seattle, but i'd written it on my paper because to get to that turnoff point would mean getting through the little trickling highways of the olympic peninsula. we talked about mountains and music and alaska and other places any of us had been during the drive that went by surprisingly fast. sixty-two miles later they dropped me at a bus stop in poulsbro, washington, before their turnoff for the ferry and puget sound and seattle. 'there's a little mexican restaurant a block up if you have to wait,' glen said as he shook my hand. i thanked the two of them and they refused money saying that it was on the way and that they always pick up hitchers. i let them know that i'd been praying for the right hitch hike to happen and that they were a literal answer to prayer and had become a clutch part of the story of the adventure. they thanked me back. i thanked them again. then we parted.

i had a forty minute wait and went to the mexican restaurant where eight dollars bought a satisfying and surprisingly large meal that was even complemented by my two good winter friends rice and beans. hey guys, good to see you again down there. so glad you're not alone this time.

from poulsbro i hopped a series of city transit buses. the first ride cost two dollars and they gave transfer tickets at each stop so i wouldn't have to buy another.

after few buses and one more short ferry ride over to port orchard i was in contact with parker's mom as planned. all in all this disconnected journey only cost about twenty eight dollars including lunch. not bad for having left canada that morning with a little bit of faith, even less money, and no plans. i don't know what else to say but i'm always thankful and amazed.



View Larger Map

Day 113

naked. not empty, like it was when we first moved into the office, but eerie and now hollowed of our computers and stuff and gear and everything. after the final jones soda toast, russ gave each of the three of us an autographed hokus pick cd and we turned in our keys and headed to the final staff meeting.

although the room was filled with teary eyed staff and soon departing friends, i stood in the moment with a sense of heart ache rather than an expression of noticeable sadness. bittersweetness. the summer's over now. the word facebook resonated a thousand times amidst the room and in nearly every conversation. kind words as well. music and heart were two uplifting subjects.

after many goodbyes and pictures and final goodbyes and last second goodbyes, we got on the van that was taking five of us to victoria. so many times, during the half day we had after each camp, we had travelled that road to longboard around the town. kings of crown town.

i put myself in the shoes of the two that were catching flights home that evening. the other three of us were on our way to seattle, where i sit right now. although i had a strong feeling before flying out of chicago that i wouldn't be coming back at the end of the summer, i could in this moment in the van imagine the return home and facing the intense longing for this life that i would feel for thisa west coast and people and style and ease.

heartache began to fade as parker and i boarded the vintage ferry and bobbed across the water towards the mainland mountains of port angeles, washington.

once back in the usa we went to jack in the box. not five minutes passed before a lady came storming in and up to the front counter complaining about the missing cheese in her burger. the defensive night shift manager held down company policy and refused to give the lady the cheese or even the thirty cent discount because of the lack of a receipt. there was anger. the lady stormed back outside, smashing the cheeseless burger into the sidewalk in stride of her unctuous stomp to her idling car.

welcome back to the u.s.a.

Day 62

i've fallen slightly behind. this is friday, which was a huge day, but i can only give a quick overview because a new week of camp starts in less than an hour.

juniors one ended and the eerie silence rolled in once again as the kids trickled, faded, and were gone. the week's speaker, a teacher and magazine editor (flyfusionmag), and i had some good conversations over the week and i'm really excited about some opportunities we discussed to work together in the future. ask me if you're interested in hearing more. i could use prayer and help to figure and take these next steps.

we had the rest of the day off so the four of us went back into victoria. we longboarded and skateboarded the streets and a couple empty parking garages. i can't even begin to explain the thrill of gliding across the spiraling platforms from the top of the building to the bottom exit. afterwards we chilled at a camp friend's place. its the same downtown complex that avril lavigne lives in apparently. there's a labyrinth of parking tunnels and remote controlled gates underneath that houses incredible cars. even the elevators need a keycard. it was intense. new coldplay and some matt costa played as we stood on the balcony in the cool ocean breeze with the view across the water towards downtown victoria and the ships. perfect chill between busy weeks.

i have to go shoot now.

Day 38

we just got back from the staff 'special event' day. the first part of it included going to see a movie. rumors that had included prince caspian or perhaps indiana jones as likely options were shattered, completely blindsided in-fact, when we all started to realize that kung fu panda was more than a preview. or extended preview. wow. we watched kung fu panda.

the good news in all this was the realization of satisfaction in the hard work i'd put in editing the advanced crew video over the past 48 hours. after a long day and night and then a pressured morning today, the renders and burnings finished literally just in time to grab the hot and precious dvd and hop on the bus for our trip into victoria. they played my video twice before the regular beginnings of previews and then, of course, we all saw kung fu panda. it was really exciting to see my work in a theater and i received good feedback and comments about the video from many people, so the late night and overall intenseness of the past day and a half was well worth this experience. i'll try to post the video on this blog soon.

the rest of the day continued with eating pizza on the parliament lawn. this would be the same lawn that our video 'parliament jam' had occurred several weeks ago. we wandered around the city for a while afterwards and i happened to score some free starbucks from a generous soul before we all, quite eagerly, boarded the upper, open level of two, double-decker tour busses for the final part of our day's event. little did we know that this victoria city joyride and picture-frenzy would turn into a nearly two hour long, temperature plunging experience that included visiting land far, far away from the original downtown victoria turf. between the two previous personal adventures and then today's epic upper-deck journey through the city's capillaries and windy extended divisions, i feel that i have a pretty solid knowledge and grasp on victoria.

it was a long day and it was exciting. trading ipods with australians was really interesting. i didn't listen to a ton of them, but 'the cat empire' seems like a solid funk/jazz/samba band from down under. look it up if you so desire. i'm gonna try to put out a more complete music post soon complete with links and such. i've also been trying to change up some of the pictures on here but blogger has been difficult. i am trying.

my bleary eyes are still rolling after the day's excitements and activities and especially intense bus rides, but i've made it to day 38.

the following was included as part of the ending of the a.c video:

"the community has been built

  these relationships have been formed

  the vision is ours to share

  we stand prepared

  look back no more"

Day 22

today i was able to get a hold of a friend's caravan and the four of us took another drive into victoria with full batteries, a better camera, and our own purchased mini dv tapes for the independent project "uncovering the unlived." after spending the night discussing questions to ask the people we approached for this 'documentary concerning matters of society' (cough.. cough... society! society!! society!!!), we took to the busy streets of a clear and mild sunday afternoon.

we saw many things, including the same sitar player who had played a bit of 'norwegian wood' when i had asked him the previous day. there was a weekly flea market where another permit-holding busker (apparently you need to audition to the city counsel for this privilege) sat on a short, beat-up suitcase and hammered out rock and roll and blues on his guitar while playing harmonica on the neck and keeping beat with a single kick-snare. i don't feel special anymore. anyways, i happened to stop right as some random skater dude walked up to the musician and asked to play some cross-harp blues duets. the moment was perfect, i flashed my own harmonica that was effortlessly produced from my left pocket, and the three of us nodded and performed an impressively coordinated blues set complete with individual solos. this was the first time that i'd really played with a busker. as soon as we started, i handed paul the gl2 to film from his spot in the gathering crowd.

after the jam and applause, the random skater dude faded back into the streams of daytripppers and i stood back to record some more of this guy's music. upon his next break, paul and i were granted with a short interview concerning matters of society, music, and inspiration to include in the documentary and then we too faded into the masses. we ended up talking to another busker who played a song after the interview for the camera. this pattern of picking interesting-looking people to talk to continued as we blew along the sidewalks and streets in the mild ocean breeze.

later as we sat in the van for a snack, i noticed from the driver's seat that the utility pole in the sidewalk had a blank "hello, my name is..." sticker on it. i'm not sure i can describe the exact flashes of idealization in my mind, but i jumped out of the car with the video camera and had paul come over to stand near the pole. these next few sentences will come to life if you read them outloud. begin narration. "the camera trailed down along the community of rusted staples before resting over the image of the sticker, to which i added the voice-over 'hello, my name is.. pole.' after this short pause, the camera drifts to the new zealander who looked into the camera and said 'ello, my name es.. pole.'" end narration. if you can imagine those two shots while saying those two lines over each location, i think you'll understand why it took us about eight takes to get through the short scene. we were in hysterics on the side of the road next to the randomest set of 'poles' in the city. one afterthought- i think i can attribute this conception to the connection of familiarity with my heritage.

finally, we took a two-dollar coin and applied super-glue to one side and then went to chill inside starbucks while the coin sat on the pavement other side of the glass window. i was really excited about this as i had always wanted to do this for a long time. the camera rolled and other coffee drinkers sat alert to the events about to take place on the busy sidewalk outside. the four of us sat and discussed how some things in life can't be spent desperately searching for but instead all we can really do is be ready to react to these situations as we move through life; all the while society wandered and circled the streets outside, oft treading over an opportunity that, ironically, could not even completely parallel our analyzed analogies for life and love and the such.

i'm not sure when i'll start editing the past couple day's footage because i plan on adding to this project, but hopefully the prank documentary from earlier in the week will be on youtube in a few days. i'll keep you posted.

Day 21- finally a post was worth writing

dave lent me his orange tercell and shaun, paul, and robyn took the hour plus drive to victoria. i didn't tell them that i'd never driven in canada before, but we made it alright in kilometers per hour and i brought a video camera. we wandered around the downtown area, it kinda reminded me of a saltwatersmell-deprived san francisco, and through the various expensive little shops and cafes. we chilled in the sun on the large front lawn of the parliament building and played our songs with guitars, harmonicas, and djembe as tourists and families wandered around the grounds behind the viewfinders of their handicams and shutters.

later, as i was pulling the car into a parking space in the downtown area, a lady loudly warned her daughter to be careful of the car full of "fresh driver's licenses." this was absurd because i wasn't doing anything extreme- in fact i was being extra careful in a car i'd never driven inside a country i'd never driven. we were all a little salty over this. before getting out, i decided we were 'independent documentary film makers' and paul agreed to approach this woman to ask if we could ask her a couple questions on tape for a documentary we were working on. she agreed, i turned on the camera, and we asked her what she thought was the biggest problem with society as she knows it. i chuckle even now in reminiscing this completely random move.

she opened up, i think, and through thick glasses and tired wisps of blonde hair, the short women told us about society's lack of acceptance. i silently slipped into a moment that i hadn't really expected to draw me in and did my best to maintain eye contact with her while maintaining a steady camera. society and the ridiculousness of girl's budgets on proms and the contrasting of relationships between businessman and crack-addict bums flowed from her lips. i internally guessed that her own prom had to have been at least 10 years ago and wondered about how much information she relied on from her testimonial, especially the part about how the rich don't understand or seek to understand the plight of the drug addict and poor. little did i know that this very interaction, as obscurely presented as it was, would lead to much bigger things a few hours later..

we split up for lunch and paul and i were on our way back from subway to meet the other two at mcdonalds when we passed a tattered guy sitting with a cardboard sign. he asked for change. i had no change and half-heartedly offered my harmonica and continued to walk. a few steps later, a rush of something i still can't fully comprehend, let alone write down, pulled my feet and i stopped. i turned. the first couple chapters of shane claiborne's book ripped like a darting whitecap of a wave, a wave that was this moment and step and breath and conceiving of full-fledged potential, and i went back.

his name was oliver and i didn't give him any money, but we walked to mcdonalds to get him some food and he asked me if i was a christian. i looked at him, his sunburnt face surrounded two wild green eyes that darted like a parrot fleeing a burning nest, and he continued to surprise me with questions about myself- did i smoke weed? do i want to? do i drink? he ended this with another affirmation that i must be a christian because they would occasionally stop to buy him lunch and never gave him money for weed. i asked him his story. for the past three years he'd been traveling from quebec and had ended up here, apparently, and then he told me about the time he got one hundred dollars from someone and spent it on a wild acid trip. the rest of the conversation was a rush of weed 101 lectures, the exploration of his personal religious beliefs and salvation, and his doctrine concerning the mystical spiritual relationship between Jesus and buddah. we talked heaven and hell and, although he didn't believe that hell would exist for those who never heard the gospel, he gave the camera an intense monologue of other religious opinions. amidst mouthfulls of fries, his own fried mind gained weightless momentum that was only stopped by the dying of my camera's weary battery.

i wasn't sure where we had landed at this point, or if he was even back in this universe yet, so we talked a couple more sentence and i reaffirmed Jesus' love for him and made sure he was good to go with food and then continued on our wanderings.

we have tomorrow off as well and tonight the three of us guys skipped rocks on the ocean back at camp and discussed a documentary we plan to start tomorrow. this post has gone on long enough, and i'm not the kind of person that can talk too much about the future without having to go back to make changes with these projections, so we're going to meet now and figure out some questions to ask people we want to go interact with tomorrow in the big city.