Friday, November 17, 2006
Days of endless rain, followed by downpours, interspersed with heavy showers, is taking its toll on Vancouverites. Our usual insufferable cheerful superiority is replaced with surly despondence. This dark morning, as we dripped umbrellas all over each other’s feet on the packed skytrain, shuffled up the stairs at our downtown stops, and navigated huge puddles to get to our offices, only one thought kept most of us from turning around and going back to bed until May. A steaming cup of Java. That magic elixir to fuel the barely glowing pilot lights in our brains.
A few steps from Starbucks I begin to anticipate my Tall Non-fat Misto. (Bucks-speak for half steamed milk, half coffee.) Then I see the sign. CLOSED. Huh? Luckily, the coffee shop in my building is open, so I head in there. “Sorry, we are not serving any coffee. Because of the water quality problem.” Sweet. Mother. Of. God.
Yesterday a “boil water advisory” was slapped on the entire Greater Vancouver District. All the rain has churned up yucky stuff (technical term) in the rivers and reservoirs, stuff that bacteria like to cling to. Water must be boiled for at least one minute. Apparently coffee machines do not actually boil the water, so coffee shops are protecting themselves against us litigious hordes by turning into no coffee shops.
We are not supposed to drink, wash food, or brush our teeth with tap water. I suppose it is good practice for Tanzania. Where I am headed in 3 weeks. Last night my Beloved & I had a “holy shit, we are not ready” moment. At least we will have the drinking water routine down pat.
Today's dream travel destination: Sumatra, where my favourite coffee beans are grown. And I bet I could get a cup.