Birthday Week: heat wave, picnics, and family visits

Autumn! You are so very necessary this year, what with all the fire and fury of our hot, dry summer. Even I am almost ready for you.

My birthday was yesterday, and it was on a day so hot that even I quailed. I had to teach some preschool classes in the morning, and by the time I met my sweetheart and biked to the PNE for some deep-fried meat and other healthy snacks I was so exhausted and irritable that I couldn't quite give in to the carefree enjoyment that a trip to the fair demands. I even snapped a few times at my poor love, who is so swamped with work and yet still took time off to cater to my wishes because it was my special day. (Sorry, Jay.) We got our coveted free-entry stamps so that we could come back to the fair that evening and see Tom Cochrane perform, and then we biked (so uphill! much panting!) to Black Rook Bakehouse because I needed birthday cake, dammit! But as I slumped, sweaty and defeated, over my Molly Cake, I had to accept the fact that

1. nothing could take the place of Blacksmith Bakery's peerless Chocolate Guinness Cake, which I'd had in Fort Langley on my birthday last year, and 
2. It was just too hot for sugar, even though (or maybe especially because) I've been cutting back so drastically on it lately.

Luckily, things started looking up once we got sensible and dragged ourselves over to New Brighton Park for some much needed r&r. Not right away though, because I'd just bought myself a Knapbag. Are inflatable couches all the rage where you live? They certainly are here. Unfortunately, my couch didn't come with instructions, and therefore I took out the plastic lining inside of it, not realizing (silly girl!) that you need those liners, because that's where you trap the air. Whoops. 

Utter despair. 

The bag, of course, wouldn't inflate properly. I was hot and frustrated and furious. With myself, natch.  What a waste of 60 bucks!

Luckily, Jay is made of sterner stuff, and he soon figured out how to re-insert the lining. Thanks to my love, I was able to lounge comfortably after all! And he appreciated it too, because he could use it as a backrest while he sat and sketched, which was part of the work that he needed to do. Win-win!

Much happier! 

We stayed here for about 5 hours. I, of course, spent some of that time in the pool. I felt much more human again after a quick dip. 

Later, we went back to the fair to watch Tom Cochrane and Red Rider play. Although we were both tired, the air cooled as the sun went down, and Tom played a great set as we cheered and sang along in the night air. Honestly, these fairground shows are mostly nostalgia acts, meaning you'll often see performers in their waning years, but many of them are still super-tight, sounding great, and seem genuinely happy to be there. Tom had tons of energy, and his voice was as good as ever. I can't think of too many bands that are more quintessentially Canadian than this one. 

Rockin' out. 

Two years ago, my birthday plans (almost identical to this year's) were foiled by some epic winds and rain, which closed down the PNE for a while. This year, the epic-ness went the other direction, with temperatures that got up to over 29 degrees. Even I, with all my love of sunny days, found this one to be simply too much. It is greatly to Jay's credit that we were able to have a lovely time despite the blistering weather. 

As usual, I like to spread my birthday over several days. Why have one celebration when you can have three?

Last Saturday I had a little picnic in another local park. It was very last-minute, and very small. I panicked about inviting people for several reasons:

1. Vancouverites are infamous for saying they'll be somewhere and then bailing.  
2. This trait gets even worse in the summer. 
3. What if I set it all up and then the weather changed? (This was the dumbest concern, as it hasn't rained in over a month.)
4. Did I really want a large group of semi-friends, or just a small group pf people I really wanted to see?

In the end, I went with a small group of friends. I had my band, my boyfriend, and my mom. And a shit-ton of food. We hung out, we drank illicit alcohol in the park, we played music, we ate (not as much as we should have- I bought waaaaayyyyyy too much stuff), and we sunned ourselves. It was easy and perfect. 

The next day, my dad and his girlfriend arrived for a quick visit. Thanks to the weather, it was also easy and perfect. We ate dinner en famille on Commercial Drive. We walked over 15km around downtown and Stanley Park, much to the delight of my dad's girlfriend, who's hardly ever been to Vancouver. And on their last night we simply barbecued steaks in my back yard, invited my landlord to join us for dessert, and sat in the summer darkness: me, Jay, landlord, dad, and girlfriend- just talking and laughing and enjoying family time.  It was a delightful birthday week. 

Muggy and Musical

Yesterday was impossibly hot and muggy, and I walked around with a large accordion on my back for a large part of it, and felt that I should have a retinue, who would match my pace, fanning me all the way with palm leaves, and offering me sips of cold lemonade. This did not happen.

What DID happen was that my accordion and I spent much of the day inside Blue Light Studio, which is a pretty magical place to be. It's where I recently recorded my own song, "In The End", and I've done session work there for other musicians and I love spending time there.

Recording sessions are some of my favourite things. And this one was special, because it was for a friend, someone who doesn't think highly enough of his skills as a musician, but who is evolving into a really amazing songwriter. So it was fun to watch some of his songs take shape, coming off the pages and into our ears. I played accordion and piano and sang a bit. Andy the recording engineer put some mandolin down on a song. When I arrived in the morning there was delicious coffee and when I came back in the afternoon there was Maudite beer in a Mason jar .

In between, I trekked out to South Vancouver to play at a seniors home. My luck is holding, because I've still never had a bad show at one of those places, and yesterday's was my all-time favourite so far. I played my accordion in the lounge/lobby of the building, and by some lucky fluke the acoustics were heavenly. I didn't need a mic, and my voice cut through the room perfectly. By the second song there were little, high, perfect old-lady voices joining in with me, and by the end of the hour I had quite a chorus of backup singers. 

Then it was back to the studio, along Industrial Avenue, which is a perfectly interesting little dead-end street. There are railcars and tracks on either side, which makes it practically inaccessible. There are food trucks everywhere (I think they come here to clean, or to re-stock, or something.) There is garbage, and crows, and climbing gyms, and the odd piece of greenery: 

All in all, it was a delightful day, even with all the accordion-carrying. 

Long Weekend

"Heaven's a julep on the porch..."

I can't stop playing that song right now.  This is a song for these muggy, grey-clouded, warm spring days. I was walking to Trout Lake today and I realized This is the first time in over five years that I've been here at this time of year.  No wonder I'm revelling in it. It's May long weekend and it's also the first time in over five years that I haven't been onstage at Theatre Royal, in Barkerville. I think you only get sad for places you're not when you're not in the right place now. I'm not pining. It's strange not to be up north but I love being right here.

Today I rolled out of bed and walked straight to the farmers market. Also the first time I'd been here in the spring in (say it with me now) Over! Five! Years! It's kind of overwhelming. Bread. Coffee. Crepes. Green things. Every time I go I swear I'm gonna have a plan and every time I end up walking up and down the single wide aisle in a daze and suddenly all my money's gone and I am the proud but bewildered owner of a bag of luxury potato chips and a carrot. Really. But it's also lovely, even with all the smugly alternative parents and the man-buns and the kids everywhere. Today I clutched my cappuccino while I inhaled an almond croissant and watched serious little boys holding hands with their moms, dogs losing their minds at all the sights and smells, vendors peddling dark thin stalks of rhubarb. I walked away with a bag of expensive things I didn't really need and sat under the trees for a while, because it was cooler there. 

Tonight I'll make some music with my man and a friend of ours. We'll strum guitars and sing in harmony and drink Dark 'n Stormies until the sun goes down.  Making music amongst the rainclouds and warm air and the green, green leaves of Spring. 

In Search of the Perfect Banh Mi

I was grouchy before I even got to the birthday party last night. There were some reasons: too much exercise made me overtired; my friend forgot to tell me the location of the party had changed restaurants, meaning I turned up at the wrong one; I was in a position where I had to be polite to someone I wasn't in the mood for. None of these life-threatening events, but added up they made me feel prickly with bad-humour. 
The party (when I got to it) was fun and my bad mood faded, but it was with relief that I hit the sack, feeling the toxic mood and tiredness still in my body. I'll sleep it off, I reasoned, and wake up feeling fine. 
Cue this morning, and the feeling that all was still not fine. Sometimes you're just going to feel tired and groggy- could be a cold, could be fatigue. Who knows? I figured if I was stuck with a less-than-fine feeling I might as well try to distract it, and I knew the perfect distraction: head up Kingsway to find the perfect Banh Mi. 

Kingsway is Pho restaurants and beauty parlours, coffee shops and dusty little businesses that look as if no one's touched the window displays in years. Generations, even.

Nifty old appliances in the window of Y. Franks

Kingsway is also Little Saigon. Some local merchants were angry when city council re-branded part of Cedar Cottage, but it really is pretty fitting. Vietnamese restaurants, nail parlours, delis and groceries are very prevalent between Fraser and Victoria, which is as far as I walked today. 

As I walked, the weather reflected my mood: sun lurked hopefully, but black clouds kept rolling by. I was alternately glad of my thick jacket and overheated by it, sometimes in the space of a few minutes. 

I love Vietnamese food, and heartily miss living across the street from Le Petit Saigon, where I ate a Number 49 (beef on skewers, grated carrot, daikon and cucumber, vermicelli) pretty much once a week. But in all my life, I've never eaten a Banh Mi, or Vietnamese sub sandwich. Now that I live so near to Little Saigon, how could I not investigate this intriguing combination of French-influenced baking and Asian meats? 

My first stop was Ba Le Deli & Bakery, which is all of five minutes from my house, at an intersection where uber-Hipster coffee, old-school Mexican, Mexi-fusion, East Indian pizza, French cuisine, Caribbean-Japanese diner and more all meet in a glorious multicultural melange. I was all ready to order... and then I saw the Cash Only sign at the till (this would be a common theme all along Kingsway). I told them I'd be back, and started walking towards Victoria, where I remembered seeing a Vietnamese restaurant years ago with such mouthwatering photos of subs in their window that I'd wanted to visit for ages, and never got around to it. 

The stores along this stretch of Kingsway are, for the most part, small businesses that seem to cater to a loyal following and aren't that interested in attracting newbies. Many of the cafes look dark and dusty- they might be making the best food in the 'hood, but you'd never know it from the presentation. I wanted to give them all the benefit of the doubt... but I didn't want to waste my money, either. I kept going, drawn by my memories of the large-windowed and attractive cafe I'd seen years ago. 

Past Cedar Cottage Coffee, where I met my guy 6 months ago (I noticed that Crow Salvaged Goods, an interesting art/furniture store we'd checked out that day, hadn't lasted as long as our relationship, although a check of the internets suggests that it was meant to be a temporary store). Past the Tipper, where I've eaten several delicious breakfasts. Here I was at Victoria... and I couldn't find the cafe of my memories. There were a couple of Vietnamese places (including the infamous and long-renamed Pho Bich Nga), but none of them had mouthwatering photos of banh mi in the window. Either it had closed, or it was under new management. Back to Ba Le for me! 

The clouds came back, making everything look darker and more dramatic. 

I kind of wanted to try the Dragon Lord Cafe, which has a powerful name that doesn't match the cutesy cartoon animals on its awning, but it was closed. Since I was feeling fuzzy-headed and tired, I decided that Vietnamese Coffee, swimming with condensed milk, would cure what ailed me. I dropped in to another cafe that was painted lime-green inside, and ordered one to go. Sadly, I picked the wrong cafe... and the wrong coffee. I forgot to ask for it hot, so I got a cold one, the condensed milk glomming sulkily onto the ice cubes and the coffee bitter. Four bucks wasted. 

Ba Le smelled of fresh bread and I was intrigued by the dumplings, leaf-wrapped rice, and dessert-like things at the till. Since I don't know my way around Vietnamese deli meats and the word "headcheese" does NOT do anything for my appetite, I stuck with a safe sandwich option: grilled pork with veggies... and more coffee. "It's very strong and very sweet," the woman at the till warned me briskly. "Perfect!" I replied, and sat down to wait. It took a while, but when the sub arrived it was everything I'd hoped for: tender pork with just enough sweet sauce, the lightly-pickled trio of carrot, cuke and daikon; cilantro and spicy peppers, packed into a warm, toasted baguette. Heaven. 

I wolfed it down, along with the coffee, which was- as promised- very strong and VERY sweet. It didn't totally wake me up, and whatever bug I'm fighting is still lurking, but I think I've found a Vietnamese treat to rival my old love, the Number 49. And since it's five minutes from my house, and a mere $4.50, you can bet I'll be back. 

Blue Day.

“Fear is the original sin. Almost all of the evil in the world has its origin in the fact that some one is afraid of something.It is a cold slimy serpent coiling about you. It is horrible to live with fear; and it is of all things degrading.”
― L.M. Montgomery, The Blue Castle

A note from a new acquaintance stuns me out of my usual selfishness: I am blessed to have been able to get to know you guys a bit... She was a shy girl who hung around with us for a few days during ArtsWells and then abruptly left her job because she and her boss didn't get along... I thought she was young for her age and a bit of a pill; she found beautiful things to say about each one of us (me and my 3 roommates) in this note she left us. I am humbled and schooled. I try to be a nicer person. It doesn't always work out. But I try.

This is our Monday and people are at daggers drawn (what a great expression) at work. Tension, drama. I keep my head down and get through the day. I visit a friend where he works; I relax and we chat and laugh but later I recall L.M. Montgomery's wonderful quote about fear. I am so fearful sometimes. I can't say what's in my heart and it becomes this big thing that I can't shrug off. I cycle home feeling sad about my shitty day at work and my fears which stifle some of the things I need to say.

I watch some documentary shorts at a film festival in town. God, why are they all so damn depressing? There's an 81/2 minute doc about a man who's friends with a spoon. His family have rejected him for this and in the end he takes meds so he can stop being friends with the spoon and go to his son's wedding as a "normal" person.  A few tears trickle out. God, it's just a spoon. Why can't they accept him as he is? Then there's a documentary about a residential school survivor... the tears start to flow for reals. By intermission my eyes are red and swollen. Several of the docs were shot in east Vancouver and I'm surprised by how homesick that makes me feel. We walk home and autumn's chill bites at us in our thin sweaters. Is it that time already? Yes it is, up here where summer is short at best.

It's a blue day, for sure. We had an amazing day off yesterday, which makes today's sadnesses bearable, because I know how much fun can be had here too. Yesterday a gang of us went to the lake and paddled and swam and snacked and laughed and it was perfection, which is what the lake always is for me. Sun on my skin and lakewater in my hair and good friends to share it all with. So I know there will be more of that, and more great days of work, too.

Well look at that. I'm all moved in. *

*Not actually my stuff. Subletting rocks!

The first item on my to-do list was to find and destroy ALL the mothballs that the last subletter had thoughtfully scattered all over the closet at the sight of a couple small moths. I suspect I haven't found them all yet, because the smell is still, um, pervasive. But I quibble. The apartment is gorgeous.

Again, not my stuff. But who cares?

This week I would come home from rehearsals, curl up on the leather couch in the living room, and read. Or crochet. My rented double bass looks great in the corner. Candles flicker merrily. My stuffed Paddington Bear dozes beside me when I go to bed. He's not as lively as some of my former companions, but he doesn't snore, so I'll keep him for now. I also have to say: I wake up every day with a smile on my face because I am living alone! For the first time in manymany years! Sometimes I notice that I talk to myself a little more than I did with roomies, but that's kinda fun. And because I have no tv (not a new thing, I haven't had tv for over 2 years) I have to make sure I have lots of books and crocheting in the place. Hence my renewed love affair with the library. And the local yarn store. (Alpaca wool! It's as if tiny angel-kitties coughed up angelic hairballs of incredible softness and someone spun them into yarn!)

My show opened last night and closes tomorrow. After many summers of 200+ shows, a 2-show run seems bizarre. I'll miss this one. There are some jobs where you walk in and immediately feel at home, and this was one of those for sure. I think we're lucky, I tell a girlfriend, because we have these jobs where we get to meet new people all the time. Imagine being stuck in an office with the same people for 20 years! We laugh together. We know, all-too-well, the downside of what we do: financial instability, connections that seem deep until the contract ends, but there are upsides too. 

I am coming to trust the cyclical nature of things, friendships in particular. The ex-lover of 20 years ago  who now takes time away from his marriage and two young children to help me move house, who plays music and writes songs with me. The childhood BFF who lives in a northern city and comes to Vancouver every few years or so. When we meet and have dinner it's as if all those years apart don't even matter. The crush of 8 years ago who I see a play with and proceed to talk with for over 3 hours. Even my own brother, who can be remarkably cavalier about replying to my texts, but will open his house to me when I need a place to stay (my sublet only lasts 3 months). This cycle of friends, work and adventures feels like a good and healthy one, and I can only hope that it's a long one, too. 

Staining Backward

“Holmes speaks of grief “staining backward” through the pages of life; but Valancy found her happiness had stained backward likewise and flooded with rose-colour her whole previous drab existence. She found it hard to believe that she had ever been lonely and unhappy and afraid.” -L.M. Montgomery, "The Blue Castle" 

Vancouver seduced me this Fall like a guilty lover holding out a brilliant bouquet. The last two years I'd stumbled back into town from the north feeling alienated and a little lost. My moods were dark; so was the weather. Okay, last year the weather was amazing, but I wasn't. So I packed, this time around, feeling apprehensive about this challenging season, and happy to decompress for a few days at my dad's before coming home. 

And I am afraid to tempt fate here, but it's so wonderful to be back! The weather helps a lot, of course, and this October has been literally nothing but gorgeous sunshine and a lot of atmospheric fog. For the first time in the twelve years (!) I've been working at the pumpkin patch, there has been no rain. At all. Now we still have six days to go, so anything could happen. But this is truly incredible, and all of us are very, very grateful. (And yeah, I know: climate change, global warming, blahblah, but...)

That I love my work with all my heart, that I even have work, is also helping. I have paycheques coming in, and the promise of work until mid-December, and it is all 'real' work; that is, work that I am trained for and enjoy doing. I spend sunny/foggy days at the pumpkin patch, or I attend rehearsals for this and am so happy to be doing live theatre again. Or I get together with friends and rent a double bass and play folk music and score us sweet gigs. Or, super-extra-bonus: I get to be on a committee that selects who will be nominated for the Vancouver professional theatre awards (known as the Jessies), so hello! Free theatre tickets to All The Plays.

And lastly, a change of address is coming up. I will miss Hastings Sunrise immensely, but:
Goodbye, loud traffic and incredibly annoying crosswalk beeper!
Farewell, messy roommates!
Sayonara, rat shit in the living room! 

But you know, I've been showered with good fortune before and sometimes it just made me feel tired. And overwhelmed. So I have to think that at least some of the change is coming from me. I am healthy, my spirit is strong, I wake up every morning feeling excited to begin the day. Maybe it's luck, maybe it's circumstance, maybe it's exercise, maybe it's a change in the mysterious chemistry that powers my body (when I think back to the exhaustion and despair I felt at times last year I have to wonder), but whatever it is: long may it last.

Or maybe it's just the coffee. 

Wow. Back in the big city again. Sunshine and perfect autumn days easing my transition back into urban life, And friends, always my lovely friends, and family too. 
The night I got back, I was staying at Mom's place and her roommate found two dusty but serviceable-looking bikes leaning against their condo's dumpster. Tires flat as pancakes and the amount of dirt on them suggesting that they hadn't been used in a very long time. I took the more modern-looking one, and with a few minor repairs (plus a new lock and helmet- nothing's really free in this life) I now have a great bike! Which I rode for miles today, zipping up to south Main for lunch with a friend, and then cruising home along sunny backstreets. 
Which goes a long way to make up for the uncertainties of this month: having to unpack from being away all summer and yet start packing again in preparation for my upcoming move to a new (yet still temporary) home at the month's end. A new theatre job starting this weekend- excitement and fear always mixed to a certain extent for a new job. Seeing rat (rat! Ugh!) droppings scattered liberally around my apartment when I got home. (Actually there's no uncertainty there. They are rat droppings, and they make me all the more certain, as if I already wasn't, that I'm doing the right thing in getting the hell outta here.)
Yesterday I felt a bit down about everything, as city life threatened to become overwhelming. Today I feel much better, grateful for a sunny bike ride, for my excellent friend Allan, who has been a huge blessing in my life for the last couple of years, for my sweet mom who does so much for me, and for new possibilities and adventures on the horizon. I know that the instability of my life here makes me worried and afraid sometimes, and that will probably continue, but there are many wonders too, and I feel glad to be able to see them today.*

*However if I actually see a rat in my apartment before I am lucky enough to leave, my worldview will become a great deal more pessimistic again, I know it.

Out Like a Lion

March has decided- with a vengeance- to be lion-like this week, although as one of my friends said on Facebook, it's high time for it to, and I quote here: "lamb the hell up". Well said, Danette.
Seriously, it's epic, folks. Wind! Torrential Rain! More wind! Brilliant sunshine! Warmth! Cold! Actual freakin' snow this morning! How's a girl supposed to dress?
Vancouver in March is how I imagine life with a toddler to be: hours of excruciating annoyance punctuated by moments of sheer joy. Suddenly I love my neighbourhood again and I want to be outside all the time so I can photograph things like this:

This? This is why I live here.

But for every one of these days, which bring sunsets like this:

...there are still days of stultifying greyness. (Greyness not pictured here, as I never take my camera out on days like that. There should actually be no record of them, in my opinion.)

Yesterday? Was awesome. A short day at school with fun classes, followed by my first ever session with a personal trainer who is helping to whip me into some sort of shape (a smaller, thinner shape, hopefully) before I go away in a month and a half. I feel really, really pretentious saying that I have a personal trainer, sorry. Does it help if I explain that it's my friend Leslie, who as well as being a fitness maven is also a blues singer par excellence? And she's giving me a fantastic rate? And she trains people in her house, where your every move is avidly watched by two obese cats? Anyway, Leslie is great, and she worked with me for an hour yesterday and then, fuelled by some kind of endorphin madness from the exercise, I walked downtown in the spring sunshine and met my brother and sis-in-law for an evening of socializing which included 4 large and interesting cocktails. This is the life, I thought blearily as I lapped up Margarita number 2 in the sunny window of a Mexican restaurant with my kin. This is Spring in Vancouver! Truly I am blessed. 

And then I woke up this morning and dragged myself out of bed. I felt like I'd been hit by a fucking train decidedly less perky today. Muscles I didn't know I had were stiff and sore. I sucked miserably at a theory assignment, an assignment which had to be played in front of the entire class. I was so tired that I was teary all day. Classic case of overdoing it. 

Clearly, March felt that the sunshine and balminess of yesterday was overdoing it as well, because we had snow this morning. Although I have to say that things improved as the day wore on. Weather-wise, at least. My mood will only improve once I've had a very long sleep. And no more cocktails for at least a week. 

Water with lemon and rosemary. It's the new coffee!

December Walk

It's amazing how few walks I've been on this year. School and work will do that to you, I guess. Last year I was short on employment and new to this neighbourhood, so I did quite a lot of exploring. Not so much this year. However, I was getting a bit stir-crazy after being sidelined with the flu for the last 5 days. It wasn't raining and I needed a change of scene.
I did what I often do in my 'hood: I headed north.  There is a park with a spectacular northern view of the water. But there's also a cool sneak-peak view of water and port in this direction (west-ish).

 A beautiful hospice sits in the centre of this park, which is a little unusual, but there's plenty of room for park, hospice, playground, daycare to rub shoulders. If I was on the way out, I wouldn't mind spending my last days at this hospice, overlooking the north shore. However, even though flu can make you feel like death, I'm not ready to turn up my toes quite yet. Look, I don't even look too awful in this shot! The flu must be subsiding!

 There are little parks inserted all the way along Wall Street, so passers-by can hang over the fence and gulp down views like this:

 How considerate, and what great city planning. In one of the mini-parks, there's a bridge, so you could conceivably walk across the train tracks and down to the water. But although it's inviting, there's also a sign that forbids actual use of the bridge unless you're a "Port Pass" holder. It's my major beef with this part of the waterfront: the Port of Vancouver doesn't like trespassers, so most of the waterfront has a very "look but don't touch" quality, which is too bad. If they weren't so uptight, you could get a lot closer to the water, and cycle or walk from New Brighton Park all the way to downtown.

Don't cross this bridge when you come to it!

 It was kind of a short walk. because I'm still easily tired. Honestly, I feel like such a wimp right now! Sore back, sore foot, fluish...  (I'm being proactive though- weekly acupuncture and a trip to my GP tomorrow.) On my way home, I glanced down the street at the water and noticed this lovely view:

The setting sun making the sides of these tankers glow!

Then I continued home, along one special street that always goes crazy with the Christmas decorations. There was no Goaltending Owl of Christmas this year, and that's a little sad. But there were already some very creative decorations:

And now I'm back at home, with my Charlie Brown Christmas tree glowing gently in the corner of the sitting room.

It's so adorable. And it gives me candy canes!

How To Have Fun at the Track (and maybe make some $$$)

1. Knowledge Is Power
Opening Day at the races, and I am lucky enough to be with a companion who has been coming to this track since he was a boy. He knows some of the horses, he is familiar with which jockeys are good; he knows some of the trainers and owners. He can also decipher what all the tiny numbers in the program mean: workout times, last race results... It was fun to be with someone who knew the answers to all my silly questions.

2. Know Your Limit...
This shouldn't even have to be said, really: DON'T BET MORE THAN YOU CAN AFFORD TO LOSE!You can have a blast at the track without spending a penny (and I have), but if you want to bet, pick an amount that you can safely kiss goodbye. I was there for the whole day, so I decided I could afford to lose $20. Even if I hadn't won a single bet, I could still have bet $2 to $3 a race, so it was a reasonable investment.

3. Protect Your Investment!
Once I made my $20 back, I took it out of the equation, and just bet with my winnings. That way I could win OR lose and I wouldn't actually have lost any of 'my' money.



4. Several Bets Per Race Can Pay Off!
Don't just bet on one horse! That was the most important thing I learned yesterday at the track. I still have lots to learn about betting, but my biggest payouts on opening day came from betting Exactor boxes, plus betting on one horse to win.

5. Don't Bet the Farm!
I think the most I spent on one race was eight or nine bucks. I was perfectly happy making small bets and winning or losing without too much heartache. Not as ballsy, but no chance I'd lose all my winnings on the next race, either.


6. Bring A Camera!
If you're a shutterbug like me, taking pictures at the track is one way you CAN'T lose! There are characters everywhere you look: hipster girls in vintage frocks; tall men in cowboy boots; old men, lovers, children... and then there are the jockeys and the horses. Every time the starting gate clangs open, there is a riot of colourful silks, rippling muscles, flying dirt and heartstopping action. Bet on it: you will ALWAYS walk away with at least one amazing shot.


7. It's a Game of Chance
This is gambling, pure and simple. You may know everything about a horse, including what the jockey had for breakfast, but at the end of the day, surprises happen, and fortunes (and careers) are made or lost in a fraction of a second. My companion and I were golden for a while, and then we weren't. No real logic or reason. You pays your money and you takes your chances. I got to the track with $60- allotted $20 for betting and spent $6 on food. At the end of the day, I walked away with $200 in my wallet- $140 pure profit. My companion had won over $400.Not a bad way to spend a sunny Saturday!

8. It's All About the Horses
Tense or sleepy-looking; lovely, high-strung, inquisitively staring at you in the paddock or thundering towards the finish line. The bell clangs, the gate opens, and these incredible athletes charge down the dirt track in just over a minute, handled by wispy men (and women) who look as if a puff of wind would knock them over. Cards bore me, I don't play the lottery, I don't like casinos, I don't even buy raffle tickets, but I will lay my money down and marvel at this amazing combination of luck and skill. I know there is a dark side; I am terrified of seeing a bad accident someday, but there is beauty and toughness and magic at the track, and one of the things I will miss this summer is the pounding of hooves in the mud on a sunny weekend day.