“What is real? How do you define real?” – The Matrix.
Every place has a secret side, hidden far from the eyes of prying tourists. After years of searching, I have finally found the “Secret” of Vancouver Island.
We were at a market in Coombs yesterday. You know, that place along the Alberni Highway where you can buy exotic foods from faraway places like Australia and Britain, while listening to the peaceful sounds of goats walking across the roof above your head. (I sometimes speculate on the issue of all that goat dung directly above the fresh pastry shop, but that’s another story altogether.)
Anyways, as we leave the main store, we stop to chat to a young lady, named Jodelle, with one of those huge designer dogs. When we ask where she’s visiting from, she quickly corrects “Oh no, I’m not visiting! I live in LA, but I was born and raised on the Island.” Aha! This is the chance to show my extensive knowledge of the local geography. “From Victoria?” I ask (having read that half of the Island’s population reside in that fine city. She steps back in shock. “Of course not. I said I’m an Islander. Nobody in Victoria was actually born here!” She goes on to explain that Victoria is full of “latte-sipping government workers”, but the true Islanders are strong out-doorsy lumberjack types who laugh at the incessant torrential rain and don’t even grab a warm jacket on either of the snowy days each winter.
I’m not quite sure this is an absolutely accurate description of the real Islanders. True, we haven’t been to the northernmost tip of the Island yet, but we’ve been to lots of other parts and have never come across any of those stereotypical flannel wearing, bear wrestling, log rolling woodsmen – well, there was that one time, but she had “I love Alberta” tattooed across her forehead anyhow.
We say goodbye to Jodelle and wander into another market store. Hmm. Here’s a likely book by a local author. After extensive research (skimming the back cover) I buy the book and find that author Jack Knox has much the same warped view of the world as I have. According to Knox, Vancouver Island is the place “where people go when they don’t fit in anywhere else.” He goes on to say, “people don’t end up here by accident.” I like that thought. The idea that people from all sorts of places have chosen, for reasons known only to them, to call the Island their home.
I reflect on some of the island characters we’ve come across:
The lady selling local cherries at the roadside stall. We ask – “How much are your cherries?” She yells to the old man playing the violin nearby – “Loou-isssS! How much are the cherries?” Er, these are your cherries, aren’t they?
The nice old guy at the stall near the little museum. He’s meant to be selling wine, but tells us to try his cheese. “Wow, that’s great! How much is it?” “Oh, it’s not for sale. I buy it at Costco. I just wanted you to try it.”
The lady who dresses up as an English police-woman, so she can wait on tables at the British Bobbie restaurant in Parksville. She patiently waits every night with laden trays while the female patrons discover they just have to get a selfie beside a life-size picture of the long-haired hunk from Outlander.
The aging hippie with the calico suit and fairy wings on his hat. He just wants to buy a pretzel for dinner.
The guy at the street stall in Parksville trying to convince tourists he’s selling real magic toys. Oops, dropped it – please forget you saw it dangling from that string – the “secret” is revealed inside the packaging.
The guy spraying special preservatives on the amazing sand sculpture. Don’t know if he made it, but he’s keeping it together through the hot days for us to see.
And those ladies back in Port Alberni who make the most amazing hot dogs in the world. Now, that’s a secret recipe worth protecting.
So, what’s the “Secret” of Vancouver Island? Well, you’ve probably guessed there actually is no big secret. It’s just a place where people come, for reasons that are their own, and live the lives that they choose, letting others do the same.
LamondG 