Where to go? – Canada

Where to go? – Canada
Surrey, Canada

Surrey, Canada


I hate asking for directions, which is probably one of the reasons why I’m feeling pleased with my gradually expanding ability to find my way around Surrey. I can now navigate to the Train station, Tim Horton’s, two Walmarts and the Waste transfer station. So, I reckon I have T thru W covered, to use the local lingo.

This morning starts with David and I heading to the waste transfer station again before he starts his daily commute on the sky train. David is driving. He’s a local, and a guy. I therefore have to observe men’s etiquette rule 27 and suppress the urge to tell him to “turn right at 96”. Waste mission completed, we swing past Tim Horton’s to grab our morning heart starters before David joins the crowd of enthusiastic workers heading downtown to start their Friday of fun. OK, I’m in charge now! I’ll just take a little trip over to White Rock to see if I can get some more – you guessed it – shelves. My friend Millie at Walmart only had a few sets in stock the other day, but there’s another Walmart about twenty minutes away. It will be so cool if I can add White Rock to my repertoire of destinations. But – how to get there?

Hey, a GPS is a gadget, right? That means using one doesn’t technically fall into the category of asking for directions. About an hour later I’m back home again. There were no shelves to be had, but I now have another W the list of places I can find unaided. Nanette and Kirsty have been home doing house stuff and don’t seem to have noticed I was away for so long. They look up from their work and announce, “we have to take the car for a service.” OK, that’s fine with me. “And we still need to get those shoes we didn’t have time to find yesterday.” Now that was a slick move!

We drop the car at the dealer, and are in turn dropped at the nearby mall. While shoe shopping is pretty awesome, I graciously offer to give the ladies some “girl time”. I actually spotted a sports shop that boasted a Nevada Bob’s Golf Shop inside and reckon it’s worth a look.

We agree to meet up in an hour or so. Where? “How about near the plant wall?” Huh? “You know, just near that shop that had the nice bags in the window.” Huh? “Near the soap shop.” Why do women give such obscure directions? If they had just said “If you hit a half a four iron from Nevada Bob’s you’ll come to an escalator. At the top, look for the phone shop with the Ford Cobra in the front. It’s opposite that.” Simple! Fortunately, there is only one wall with plants growing on it within the mall, and it’s not too far from the sports shop. I make the rendezvous on time, we collect the car, and head on home. Kirsty is feeling tired and suggests I drive. Great! I can demonstrate my command of the local streets. Big mistake.

As home comes in sight the girls make another one of those innocent suggestions. “Since you have plenty of time, why don’t you drop us at home and go to pick up some things we ordered the other day at the furniture shop? It’s not far away so we’re sure you’ll have no trouble finding it.”


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