It took me almost an hour to figure out why the light coming in the windows of the Calgary airport looked so strange. Sure, my body thought it was almost noon – or even later, given how much earlier I woke up compared to usual… but the beautiful blue Albertan sky looked to be a certain shade of blue that I only ever see in one place: Through a polarizing filter on a camera, as if the glass of the large windows itself was polarized! I couldn’t completely convince myself of that, but the apparent effect was so dramatic, I almost tweeted the thought; but all too quickly I was at the baggage claim and my Calgarian host was seeking me out.
Bill and Barb are what I imagine a distant relatives to be like: I don’t see them very often, but when we do meet, it’s always like family. See, Bill and my father grew up as boyhood friends in the same neighbourhood, and while Bill and Barb have lived in various far-flung places of the world, my dad and Bill have managed to always stay in touch – now facilitated by the convenience of the Internet, of course. And almost as long as I’ve been known of Bill’s existence – he and Barb have been vigourously inviting me to come visit them in Calgary. Since I couldn’t make the logistics work out with last year’s Vancouver trip, I was determined to take them up on their offer this time. Weeks of strange negotiations, planning attendance of the upcoming weddings and talk of train-rides across the prairies and through the Rockies with zigzag return flights and doubling back, I did it.
So here I am, enjoying a comfortable summer’s day in Calgary, finally realizing why the light looks so strange. Remember last year, how the running joke was about how far West I’d been? Well – I realized this is the furthermost North I’ve been, at least in the Western Hemisphere. I can’t explain it any better, but even outside of the airport, the sunshine, the depth of the blue sky… just look different then they usually do.
The house is in a very neat area too, just north of downtown and a few paces away from the Bow Valley. Standing on cliff’s edge there’s a fantastic view of downtown, almost like a cross-section, it ends so abruptly, and over to the right, you can just see the snow-capped Rockies. I was initially impressed with the Cartesian road-way grid too: All roadways are numbered, streets run North-South, avenues run East-West. It makes thing so much easier to find than the CHMC-mandated hell that is Ottawa and Toronto spaghetti, but there’s not much romance to the names… Of course, I’ve yet to discover how this all falls apart horribly in the suburbs.
Most of the day I spend in a zombie-like state as I’ve barely slept in the nights preceding this trip. The 2 hour timeshift works in my favour too, but I’m finding it difficult to stay up to even 10PM MDT, but there might be another reason for that.
When I think of Alberta, the obvious things come to mind: oil, no PST, the Rockies, flooding bodies of water, and farms. But there’s something else to remember: backyard firepits. Sure, they’re not legal anymore, but if you’re grandfathered… well… let’s just say it’s worth keeping around!
Farms. Farms are where cows live. Cows get turned into steak. Alberta cows are good. Alberta beef is even better. Mmmmm…. steak.
I don’t even remember what kind of cut of meat it was (sirloin? T-bone? striploin?) but I think I had a religious experience eating it… fresh, perfectly rare off a wood firepit with a good coating of grill-spice. My words do it no justice, but allow yourself to imagine the tastiest BBQ ever, then multiply that by OHMIGODTHISISGOOD.
Afterwards, while we sat around the fire, the folk festival started in the park – Sam Roberts set rang up from the valley below, it was pretty awesome. Before the fire went out, Bill helped me take this shot… I’ll warn you now though, there was an air compressor, shirtlessness, and more fire.
