From last row to first row!

Mike and I sold our first born child for the chance to see an Olympic quarterfinal hockey game. And, boy, was it worth it!
We showed up early in red and white so we'd have plenty of time to learn the Swiss cheers (aahhhhh Sw-eeeee-sss + three claps and repeat). Our seats were in the very last row (here we are, backs up against the wall). But at least we could see the entire ice.

We were giddy with excitement. We even called and texted family to tell them about it. "We're here! at the game! Wow!"

This was our view. Far away but REALLY patriotic. The sea of red and white + stars and stripes was pretty wild. We were on cloud nine. Quarterfinals at the Olympics. Does it get better than this for two lowly Vancouverites with fire in our bellies and zeros in our bank account balances? We thought not.

As the Swiss kept the US at bay for the first period, we bit a few nails, licked our lips, and started to think "hey, this could be an upset!" We were wild with anticipation. On the edge of our seats.

When the game was scoreless at the buzzer, we noticed two seats uninhabited behind the goaltender. First row.

"Why don't we sit there?" I asked. Half joking, half totally serious. "What's the worst that could happen?"

We figured the worst case scenario would be the embarrassment of being found out and being sent back to our original seats. Which, for the chance to sit first row at an Olympic hockey game, was well worth the risk. So we headed downstairs.

With an air of utter coolness, we sauntered by security and headed down to front row.
Here is Mike half smiling, half wetting his pants thinking that we're actually going to do it!

Then, we say. We smiled. We high-fived.
First row!!!!


The second period started. No one came back. No one asked for our seats.
And we watched as Hiller made save after save for the Swiss team right in front of our noses.
Kesler, a Vancouver Canuck playing for the U.S., gave some nice checks in our corner. Had their been no glass, we could have reached out and touched him. We weren't sure whether to boo or cheer.

We were immediately adopted by Swiss fans as we chanted loudly and with spirit "aaaah.... suisse!" when the Swiss got a powerplay or when Hiller made a big save. We love the americans, but this is hockey and it would be way to taboo to cheer for the U.S. who gave Canada a whipping only a few days before.

We "ooohed!" we "aahed"! we sat on the edge of our seats! We junped up! We fist thrusted. And then, in the third period, the U.S. scored and we lay back in our seats defeated... for about 3 seconds. Until we recalled that we were sitting FIRST ROW!

The guy beside us, a wily french canuck, caught a puck and we posed with him and his prize.

We high-fived our neighbours and scouted the boxes from a glimpse of Brian Burke.

We texted our friends in the upper bowl "We're first row, suckers!" and carried on like two cocky rich kids in a candy store. It was the time of our lives.

Our team didn't win. (we tried to frown in this pic but were still riding high from the fact that we were first row)
We didn't really care. We wanted a Swiss upset but the chance to see a Canada-U.S. final is even more exciting.
We love a good rivalry.

The luck of being first row at an Olympic game carried by the energy rush of cheering fans was indescribable.
We clearly need to sell our second born for more tickets.
No doubt about it.

The price of Olympic volunteering

Mike's been on Cypress sweatin' it out in snowboard boots 10 hours a day for the past 9 days.
"My dogs are barking!" he said as he pulled off his socks on Day 9.
I screamed in horror.
Though Mike is only 31, the Olympics have aged his feet to 107.

Patriotism Portfolio

We walked around the streets today just to see what was going on.
Highlights included a random drum circle, a skipping competition, a yeti, free hugs, pin collectors fiercely collecting, random dancers in the street, Norwegian spirit, and some kids playing pick-up in the middle of the downtown core.

Here it all is in pictures.

The rickshaw man

So I hopped into a rickshaw for the sheer fun of it.
Here's how our conversation unfolded:

Driver: Where are you from?
Me: Here.
Driver: Lucky you.
Me: I know. It's amazing. How about you?
Driver: Toronto
Me: I used to live there
Driver: I'm moving here.
Me: Really
Driver: Yep. Going to go home, pack my bags, and come west.
Me: Why?

He stopped in his tracks. Looked back at me with a wry smile.
Then he turned the rickshaw 180 degrees so it faced North. There were throngs of people.
He pointed.

That's why, he said with conviction.

He was pointing at the snow-capped mountains framed by downtown skyscrapers.
You could see them at the end of Granville Street. Grand and beautiful as ever.

I know exactly what you mean, I said.

16 Saturdays

I am exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally destroyed. And the best part is: I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Olympics in Vancouver have become a series of Saturdays. Every day feels like the weekend. The streets are full of pride and pandemonium at all hours of the day and night.

At 5 in the morning: masses of people beginning to line up for rare treats like a chance to touch the Olympic Medals at the Canadian Mint or an opportunity to zip line over Robson Square.

I left the bar at 3 this morning (yes! I did!) and the streets were still packed; the spirits were still bright; and a handful of guys had set up a game of road hockey in the parking lot using a beer can as a puck and flag poles as hockey sticks. A crowd had gathered and they all started cheering. Beautiful.

By midday every day anyone with a hint of claustrophobia would flee from the masses. The streets disappear underneath thousands upon thousands of feet. You have to look up and over to navigate, not directly in front. Else you'll never get anywhere. There is no pushing and shoving. It's all very polite. It's almost like this is the way it was meant to be. Too many people to move, and yet you still get to where you want to go and you meet three hundred friends along the way. It's eerily perfect.

I jumped on a free rickshaw yesterday just because (1) it was free and I've never seen a rickshaw in Vancouver before, (2) my normally 10 minute walk to work had morphed into a 30+ minute walk as I weaseled my way through the crowds and I had a conference call to jump on, and (3) well, why not take a rickshaw to work? It's the Olympics!

(as an aside: I think if Stephen Harper can prorogue parliament for the Olympics than he really should prorogue work in general from all Canadians. I mean, how's a girl supposed to put in her 8 hours when there's a party at her door 24/7?)

When night falls, the city carries on. thousands of people from curb to curb crowd Granville and Robson streets. They rush to the harbour to see the flame. The line up for clubs. They drink beers on patios (yes! In February). They high five and reminisce in the days wins and losses.

Just yesterday, as I waded like a salmon going upstream through masses on Robson to meet some friends, one sole Canadian had a portable radio and the announcer excitedly screamed: "Jon Montgomery of Canada wins gold!!" The guy holding the radio screamed "Yes!" and threw his arms up in the air, as if it were his victory. His gold. He turned to me and with emotion and zeal enthusiastically screamed "GOLD!" as if I were three blocks away not rubbing shoulders in a crowd.

"WOOHOO!" I screamed back and we hugged tightly while jumping. Suddenly, I felt like I too had won gold. My country won it. Me. It's the most amazing feeling. And then the ripple affect happened. Screaming! Clapping! Jumping! Thousands of Canadians we're instantly glowing. "With glowing hearts" -- the marketers got that one right. Smiles stretched clear off of everyone's faces as a man no one has ever heard of before from a small town in Manitoba descended on our sliding track in Whistler and captured gold. A random O'Canada started. And a thousand people started to sing and rock side to side and perfect strangers were arm in arm in a sweet song of patriotism.

It gave me chills.

There is something about these Olympics that is big. I wish I had the words to describe it. It is an emotion that runs deep. It is a pride that cannot be denied. It is belonging to a club of 30+ million people and knowing that there is no other club you'd rather be a part of.

The thing is: I've always known that I was one lucky girl to be born on Canadian soil and to experience my life in this fine country. When I drove from Ontario to BC a few years ago, I was inspired with this country's beauty - the rugged terrain of Northern Ontario, the deep blue waters of Lake Superior, the big sky and vast golden landscape of the prairies, the shear magnitude and marvel of the Rocky Mountains, the wonder of the sagebrush and cacti in the country's only desert, the delicate beauty of the Okanagan. When I kayaked off of Blue Rocks, Nova Scotia years ago, I fell madly in love with the Atlantic, with East Coast kindness, with lobster and fishermen. When I slept under the Northern Lights in the Yukon under the shadow of the Tombstone Mountains, I thought I was in heaven. These and so many other moments have made me proud and humbled to be a Canadian.

But it's always been a quiet pride.
For me and for most.

The Olympics have awakened the Canadian spirit. A sea of red and white and maple leafs greets me every morning and every night. I wake to it. I go to sleep to the hum of people still celebrating, singing, loving this country. It's magic. Cheesy as it sounds, it really is.

Mike had the privilege and general good luck to attend the Canada-Switzerland game this week. His heart skipped a beat when the Swiss tied it up and there was a possibility that perhaps Canada wouldn't win. That perhaps "we" would lose.

"I couldn't breathe" he said. Time stood still. The whole arena fell into one collective held breath. And, no doubt, the whole country. And when Crosby scored in the over-time shootout and Canada won, everyone won. We all won. And the country sighed relief. And Mike took a deep breath. And all was right with the world again.

That's love. That's emotion. That's the Olympics for you.

For every athlete donning a maple leaf there are 30 million people in his or her corner, rooting with fire in their bellies for a podium finish, feeling real pain and sorrow for losses and missed opportunities and crying real tears of joy when the Canadian Flag is raised above all others.

Like I said: Every day is Saturday. Every day is Canada Day. And though we're definitely yearning for less hangovers, more sleep, fewer dinners with a side of yam fries, and the return of our routine, we can't deny that this is the best celebration we've ever been a part of and we are oh so glad to be Canadian.

Go Canada Go!

Canadian Spirit

Every where you look, Canadian spirit is aplenty.
Storefronts, balconies, doorways, faces, clothing, sidewalks, everywhere -- even dogs!
It's a mosaic of patriotism I don't think I've ever seen in this country.
And I must admit two things:
(1) I really like it
(2) I hope post-Olympics that it stays

Walking to Work Olympic-Style

Every morning I walk to and from work in the middle of the road amid a sea of patriotic globetrotters. No matter the time of day, the road is packed, the smiles are high, random anthems are sung, and high-fives are offered openly. It makes going to work in the middle of this spectacle that much more bearable.

Gold!

It was luck enough on Monday when we received FREE tickets to the Victory Ceremony at BC Place.
It was even more raw luck that Alexandre Biladeau, our Gold Medal Moguls Winner, would be there to receive his gold medal. A piece of history right before our eyes.
It was even incredibler sent-from-above luck that our tickets were right in front of the stage where talent would perform and Mr. Biladeau himself would don his gold jewel and watch his flag raise.

We stood on the floor in anxious anticipation. When the top-three men's moguls winners came out, the crowd was nuts. Canadian, American, and Aussie flags waved. There were cow bells and claps. Horns and "woohoos". We had maple leaf mittens and big CANADA sweatshirts. The whole stadium was 22,000 people high on national pride.

We watched the Canadian flag raise, Alexandre look on in pride, and we all sang at the top of our lungs, until our throats were raw with patriotism.


Then we poured out onto the streets and carried on the celebration with the thousands upon thousands of other proud global citizens.

This is the very best time of my life.