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There's something very impressive about the drive down the Rockies. At first, only the roads get wider, but after a while, the whole landscape does.
We had a 3-hour break in between buses in Calgary. Sadly whenever we stopped for long enough, no showers were to be found, but when we only had 15-minutes there were, and we soon starting getting used to the idea that bathroom sinks would have to do until we got to Ottawa.
I tried hunting down some food in the bus station while my friend got busy with the totally kick-ass pencils she'd bought for the road (granola bars are fine and dandy, but variety is good, too) and all I found was a dubious egg salad sandwich. Apparently there is a huge part of Canada where vegetarian food doesn't exist, and this wasn't something I had planned on.
I came back in the station's lobby to eat that sandwich, and there was Julie making a drawing of a guy who had fallen asleep underneath his newspaper.
I'm not sure where this is going, except I was both delighted and a little concerned about seeing the Prairies, looming ahead of us. It sure is very flat. Very, very flat.
So i think I have Music For Chameleons (especially Handcarved Coffins), by Truman Capote, and Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart to thank, as they helped me stay sane in the ace of intense boredom. Both were bought cheap and second-hand at Pulp Fictions on Commercial Drive a couple days before we left. Great bookstore, by the way. I miss it.
In the Trans Canada Highway photo essay.
Also by Kevin Sparadrap
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