Another night of peaceful rest and happy bliss for me, and of unpleasant shaking for the White Owl. In the morning, we made a stop at Edmonton: we could just see the skyline from where we were. They added a panoramic car, which was very exciting, because it meant that it was the long awaited day, the one where we would cross the Canadian Rockies!
We started the day still among farms, but soon, the Rockies appeared. The White Owl almost forgot her unpleasant queasiness and squeaked of happiness at the sight of the mountains. The new panoramic car was modern, but the draft of the AC was so strong that I just couldn’t keep my eyes open, so we abandoned it and installed ourselves in the activity car. It was a very good idea, because – while it was not panoramic, and our view was reduced by the windows – we had the whole car for ourselves, and could run from side to side to better see each passing rock.
Here there are, all blue and shy in the distance!
We stopped in the mountains at Jasper, where we were able to have a quick walk in the forest and get seriously devoured by mosquitoes and other very aggressive winged creatures. We also were outrageously insulted by tiny marmot-like animals. Adorable, but very squeaky!
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING SO CLOSE TO MY ROCK!! IT’S MY ROCK!”
Taking pictures in a train is not an easy task. I developed a certain technique after a few days, but still, they are rather blurry, and trees have this habit of jumping right in front of the camera at the last moment, which can be trying when you’re in a rapidly moving train and the mountain is quickly disappearing.
Here is a blurry, ugly picture of Mount Robson, the tallest of the Canadian Rockies:
3954m, or as he says when in a mountain bar, 4000m, I’m totes at 4000m if you count the rocks and trees I put on the summit…
I mean, of course I could go in the 4000+ club, it’s just that I don’t like the guys over there…. They are sooo condescending…
Now, it is time I talked about the meals. Indeed, it was a very important part of the train trip, because during those four days, you mostly sit, eat and sleep. The meals were of an amazing quality (given you know, the tiny moving kitchen and all), very good, plentiful, varied and all. In the morning, we had Canadian breakfast, with omelets, eggs, or simpler things like oatmeal and toast. At lunch, we had burgers, salads etc., a rather simple menu. And in the evenings, we had sumptuous dinners with soup, entree, dish and dessert! Feasts!
So, the food is excellent. Good. Still, the White Owl and myself both dreaded meals, for different reasons. See, the tables are for four people, and we were only two. Instead of being civilized, by which I mean, instead of letting us eat facing each other, next to strangers, and maybe talk to them if they look nice or what, they were really weird and positively forced us to eat side by side, facing strangers, making everybody uncomfortable.
I know, I know, not everybody! It’s because I’m a socially awkward Owl that I feel it so strongly. A lot of people like that kind of torture. The White Owl herself would have loved it, if not for a tiny problem: her English is very bad. She understands around 20%, misunderstands another 20%, and reinterprets the rest. When she speaks, she rarely says what she intends to, and mostly baffles people.
I sympathize with her: I can still remember the time where, while in my youth, during an internship in England, I stood in a laundromat pitifully asking for pieces, and that a piece is stook in the laving-machine, please help me?
I also remember how exhausting it is to be surrounded by people that you can’t understand, while you strain every fiber of your brain to catch and recognize a word, and how you’re irritated by all those people who talk to you in an easy flow, and don’t seem to grasp the fact that their language is not universal.
The obvious solution when confronted with the English language, in the case of the White Owl, is to use me as a personal interpreter.
So here I was, obliged to talk to strangers three times a day, including early in the morning before I had had any coffee, also forced to traduce whatever remarks the honorable parent wanted to share, when most of the time, those remarks were wildly out of place in the conversation (you know, because she understands 20% of it). Some of them were even quite inappropriate!
Honestly, by the end of the trip, I could say in English what she was saying quickly in French, while she was saying it, in just under a 10s delay, with an added layer of diplomacy. Basically, I could have changed career and work as an interpreter for the UNO or something.
We met really nice people in this train. Yes, sometimes I treacherously adapted my translations of the White Owl, and at other times, I deceitfully pretended not to speak English anymore, but really, people, just let me have my damn coffee first!
This day was a day of deers and does, rocky pics and majestic lakes… We went to bed, regretting that during the night, we would go through other mountains without being able to watch them, also thinking that it was our last night.
“I’ll never be able to sleep as well as that, thought I.
-I’ll be able to sleep well at last”, thought the White Owl.