Just look at that family portrait. Best thing ever. The lack of perspective makes it look like the parents have adopted children with moustaches. Genius.

Claire on the bridge - look at that view baby!

Claire next to the famous 'steaming clock'. It's literally a clock which steams. I must've spent, oooh, minutes watching it. All that steaminess and clockiness. Brilliant.

Today we are moving out of our apartment in Kitsilano, Vancouver, and into a hotel in downtown. It’s been so nice to be able to cook proper meals, wash our stinky clothes and lounge in a lounge, but now we must once again sharpen our traveller senses and delve back into the heart of the city. You might think of us as two quick-witted urban foxes, or perhaps we’re more like a pair of dozy piglets, it’s your call.

Justin, our host for part of this last week, has been very chilled and hospitable (we’ve been living with him for the past few days, before that we had the place to ourselves as he was on his travels). On the first day I went for a shower and pulled the tap off the wall. Luckily, my folks taught me the DIY basics so I foraged around for some tools and had it all sorted before he came home. I do hope he doesn’t read this blog… Claire and I made an effort to keep the place looking pristine, including trimming ourselves wherever necessary so as not to look out of place with the ‘Kits crowd.’ We’ve had some lovely chills, wanders and jogs on the beaches here; you only have to run around a corner to find another beautiful, empty stretch of sand with a snow-capped mountain in the background. Again, we’ve worked in coffee shops for hours until the open sign is flipped and the waiter drags his mop over our shoes. A café across the road serves the finest chorizo omelette I have ever seen or even heard of. It is solely responsible for me now looking like I’m in my second trimester.

A few days ago we went into town to watch the Paralympic torch being carried to its final destination. We’ve got tickets to go up to the Whistler Olympic site for the paralympic alpine skiing, which we’re very excited about. Everyone linked to the Olympics has been very kind and helpful (we had our photo taken with the mascots!), with the exception of the woman who sold us our tickets. We still don’t known why, but every time Claire asked her a question she would stare back in silence, looking at us with a grimace as though we’d just asked if we might pooh in her handbag. ‘What’s the best way to get to whistler by public transport?’ asked Claire. ‘Drive’, replied the lady, after a long silence. By the end we were frowning and I nearly had to ask if we’d done something wrong. Maybe there was some sexual tension (I've been wearing the same hoodie and kicks since we left the UK and must be emitting some pretty powerful pheromones by now.) Very strange. Welcome, international visitors!

One of the highlights of this week has been the Great Granville Island Beer Festival of 2010. Not an official festival by any means, just me and Hammond tucked in the corner of the brewery at Granville Island with a pad, a pen, and a sample of all their finest beers. After much sipping, sniffing, arguing and weeping, we came to a decision as to which was the best beer. Unfortunately by that time our notes had turned to scribbles and I can’t quite remember the name of the victor. I think it was the pale ale. Or maybe the chocolate stout. Either way, the drinks were as cheap as the high street bars, and we sat in a snug which overlooked the brewing vats. Brilliant.

On Kitsilano beach. We went back at the weekend when the sun was out and the wind died down. I fell asleep on a log.

Me in my pants with bed hair. Sorry to those of a delicate disposition, and further apologies to my business clients!

In truth, we had no real preconceptions about Seattle. I had been viewing it as a necessary stop-off before we reached Canada, but when we arrived we found it to be a quirky, liberal city filled with kind characters and more coffee and fish and music than you could shake a stick at.

Our hotel was brilliant, the perfect mix between amenity and self-sufficiency. The room was enormous, with a fridge and a microwave so we could cook basic meals. We were only booked in for two nights but ended up staying for a week. I don’t think we were the management's ideal tenants (noodle packets everywhere, washed pants hanging from any available space) but they were very kind and let us stay in our upgraded room the whole time.

Seattle has been our most productive spot in terms of work, writing and general creative bits. Most days we would take our laptops down to the waterfront, get settled in a coffee house and work away until hunger beckoned. Pike Place Market is a wonderful hive of activity. Our favourite eatery was a muffin café where we enjoyed the cheap and home-made soup-and-muffin combo. I wondered why the chefs were watching us eat, and then they admitted it was because muffins are from the UK and they wanted to see if their produce ‘passed the test’! ‘No way, ‘ I said, folding my arms. ‘You’re a long way off. You’re no Nigel Lawson…’

One day we wandered down some steps into the old brewery, where we watched the bitter rivalry of the Olympic ice hockey final (Canada won in extra time after a very close game). The Americans were such bad losers that they wouldn’t stick around to watch the medals being awarded! It was all a bit patriotic for us, however, so we sat away from the TV and worked our way through samples of all the ales! Claire found a chocolate port which, if I wasn’t such a stubborn atheist, is what I imagine would run through the streams and waterfalls of heaven.

Over these past weeks Claire has been afforded many chuckles and chortles at my expense, as I bumble around the globe, naïve and much more English than I imagined myself to be. One day we were walking through the famous fish market at Pike Place when I noticed the men working the fish stands (famed for their singing, shouting and nimble fish throwing and catching) handing out tasters of their finest wares. The salmon was more expensive than gold, and I do like a bit of salmon, so I made a beeline for them, excited to get a free taster. Strangely, I found it hard to penetrate the small gathered crowd as they moved from stall to stall. I actually had to ram my arm between two men and shoe myself into the tight circle, and even then the fishmonger looked annoyed as I held out my hand. ‘Can I have a try?’ I asked, surprised by his grumpiness. He sighed, and handed me a big chunk of the finest salmon I’ve ever tasted. ‘Thing is,’ he said, ‘these lot have all paid for this tour.’ Feeling sheepish, I apologised to crowd (who I now noticed were all wearing badges) and the ‘Gourmet Seafoods of Seattle’ tour guide stood behind me and shuffled back to Claire. It was lovely salmon, though…

Many people don’t know that in the nineties I was a huge and unashamed devotee of grunge music. I don’t think it was Kurt Cobain’s ambition to crack Stoke-on-Trent but by golly he did it, and he had many flannel-shirt wearing, scraggy haired followers there, including me and my pal Jimbo Bryan. When we arrived here Claire and I got busy planning our pilgrimage day. We decided against visiting the house where Kurt died and chose instead to see the places where our favourite bands had seen better days. We went to the Crocodile café, which has hosted Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Mudhoney etc. and then walked down to Sub Pop records (which was dull, but Claire is very kind.)

By chance, as we stood outside the Crocodile Café we saw a poster which said the Trailer Park Boys (one of our favourite TV comedy acts) would be performing live that evening. I had never heard of them touring the UK, as they’re mainly a television and film group, so we hotfooted it down to the theatre and grabbed two of the last few tickets available. It was an amazing show, and if you ever get chance to see them I highly recommend it. I’ve attached a few pics and a video in case you’ve never heard of them.

Soon we will be taking the people’s chariot (the bus) over the border into Canada, where we’ve hired out an apartment near the beach in Kitsilano. We’ll write more from there and in the meantime send all our love and plenty of kisses for your misses(es). Big hugs XXX

Lady of Leisure

Hello, my name’s Claire and I’m the second half of this travelling pair who have already ventured through American and Japanese lands enjoying the sights, smells and sounds of many a village, town, city and countryside. You might have thought Tom was travelling alone because of the lack of presence of blogs finishing with ‘Claire X’. That’s because I’m lazy. I shout the odd memory out to Ginge while he writes mini novels about our experiences. He’s good at it so if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I approve the copy, off it goes into cyberspace. Let him have his literary glory. I’m off for a glass of wine :-)

Claire X

Riding the rails along the West coast

Claire and I decided that we wanted to take the train north to Seattle so that we could see a bit of the landscape and feel the miles rattle away beneath us. We booked the 26 hour starlight express from Monterey and although we were excited to get moving again, we were a little sad to be leaving our grand hotel by the sea and our big honky seal friends!

Amtrak trains are huge, with plenty of room and power sockets by the seats, so on the first night Claire and I had a great time winding along the coast in the darkness, watching ‘Dexter’ on the laptop and eating hotdogs and noodles. We woke after a surprisingly good sleep to find that we’d crossed the border from California to Oregon. After the hot sun of the south it was strange to see a winter landscape, there were clear hailstones all over the tracks like large rough-cut diamonds. At every stop a huge gang of smokers would pour out of the train onto the wide tracks, and every few stops we’d both jump out too to get some fresh air (and so that Claire could smoke her pipe.) The scenery as we travelled further into Oregon was amazing: mountains, forests, enormous lakes, drifts of snow and crazy little towns tucked away in the middle of nowhere.

With the train costing less than flying, the passengers are a mixture of students, travellers, small families and a many men with caps and beards. I think it’s some sort of uniform. One man befriended us and asked us to visit him at his farm in Saskatchewan. Not only was he offended when I pronounced it ‘Sasquatchy-man’ but he also started telling us that he liked ‘oriental women, they don’t bitch around!’ And then laughing maniacally. I could already see my severed head being used as a paperweight in his Ted Bundy lounge so I made something up about not having time to get over to Sandsquashy-wash and headed back to our seats.

We pulled into Seattle late in the evening, when it was already dark. We thought we’d booked a very cheap hotel for the night, but Claire had worked her magic yet again and when we arrived it was another large room in a lovely hotel in the posh end of downtown. And they upgraded us again. I don’t know how she does it.

Off to explore Seattle and see what we can find. Will keep in touch! Love to all. XXX