It's a game - but not as we know it

So, Canada.

I started to keep a diary whilst I was there, thinking this would be a good, cathartic exercise.  I used to keep a diary in my late teens, full of babyish twaddle, of course, but I felt as if I was achieving something at the time.  This time I did about three days, found it not to be as easy as blogging and subsequently couldn't be arsed.  Also I was pretty shocked at the state of my handwriting. 

So I am left to cobble together an account of our trip - aiming for a concise, witty, meaningful and accurate report.  Phnarf.

It all started so well - the dreaded journey by coach up to Heathrow wasn't half bad.  Made a little better by getting front seats and sniggering about the coach driver, Ron, who was a miserable Scottish bastard who I liked to think of as 'Laughing Boy Ron.'  Thus followed the flight.  Jaysus, long haul flying is truly a misery for those of us not fortunate enough to be prepared to part with a substantial amount of Wonga to fly above cattle class.  Awful, awful, awful.  I feel empathy with the humble sardine.  This coupled with trying to eat a meal (and I use the term meal loosely there) with your elbows tucked firmly into your ribcage whilst rubbing your nose against the video screen in the back of the seat in front of you, makes for a sense of real achievement upon reaching your destination without a) reaching for tranquilisers, or b) losing it completely mid-flight and screaming obscenities at all and sundry.

The relief upon flopping down upon soft, freshly laundered sparkly white duvets in our deluxe room was palpable.  The time difference meant of course that I awoke fully refreshed and raring to go at 2am.  An again at 4am, 5am and 6am.  Then I gave up, got up and went for a run along the waterfront, which was peaceful, beautiful and had the sense of a city waking up and ready to go - all very novel and exciting to me.  Followed by a swim in the hotel pool, a sit in the (very) hot tub under a blue morning sky and a (not to be repeated) hotel breakfast which cost us a jaw-dropping $80.  The breakfast was our first clue as to the cost of living in Vancouver.  We arrived with what I consider shed loads of cash, only to discover we were going to need to eat and sightsee fairly frugally if we wanted to get back to the UK financially unscathed.

A routine of early rising, exercise, swim and dip, doughnut and coffee breakfast, sightsee, Pokémon, tea, more Pokémon and early to bed left us all feeling a bit more vitalised with life in general.  (Well it did me, anyhow).  I vowed I would be early to rise and early(ish) to bed when I came back, but I seem to be needing at least 10 hours sleep all of a sudden, and cannot haul my cookies out of bed much before 10am right now.  Oh dear.  Maybe I should be trying to go to bed earlier than midnight, my body clock is all over the place. 

Oliver did not have a great tournament at the Worlds.  He was very disappointed and tearful, as were many other of the junior players who did not get as far in the competition as they hoped, but that's the way the cookie crumbles in the world of Pokémon.  Sometimes you just don't pull the right cards at the right time, sometimes you are playing against a player who has cards to foil even the strongest of carefully constructed decks.  He did, as kids do, recover his equilibrium quickly, and has come out of it having thoroughly enjoying the experience of playing Pokémon for 3 days solid against kids from around the world, not only during the competition itself, but socially in the evenings. 

I really enjoyed the buzz of the sheer scale of this competition.  Being US backed, there is a lot of money in it, and Oliver got some fabulous competitor freebies.  The prizes for actually becoming World Champion include an invite to next years Worlds with paid travel and accommodation, gazillions of dollars worth of Pokémon cards for a year and thousand of dollars in scholarship fees to cover tuition, books fees, whatever up to the age of 28.  I am very impressed with this prize, and think it a very forward thinking idea to combine a 'game' with such a fantastic educational opportunity.

All in all, I feel very much in love with Pokémon and we are in the throes of planning Oliver's road to qualifying for next year - to be held in Washington DC. 

Vancouver, all in all, felt very 'new', which, of course, it actually is.  It's history only stretches back as far as our Victorian era, and the oldest building there is a church which you can find ten-a-penny over here.  One of the tourist officers was telling us how her children were studying history as a series of projects, and that the UK was going to be left to last because 'there's so much of it'.  And that makes me feel very smug.  We are a country of a long, rich and varied history, and it's a nice feeling.

Enough blatherings.

So to pics. 

Nutritional delights, ahem: breakfast from Tim Hortons.

Night side view from our room:

 

Panoramic view from the hotel pool:

 

Mark and Oliver sampling the delights of the too-hot tub.

The Pokémon vehicle rolls into town:

Competitor's badge: a very proud moment:

Improptu gaming around the hotel: 

 

Tournament day.  Here are the GB boys.  These were the top four Junior finishers in the UK Nationals, and whilst they had very little to do with each other that day, at this tournament they gravitated to each other - nice to see.

 

Good game,

Not so good game.

Oliver is the one in the hat in front of the scary looking judge.

The last game of the weekend:  In the gaming room with his new-found friend from Tasmania, who he is staying in touch with.  The kid spectating here is the US National Junior Champion, who came 6th in this Worlds.  Apparently on the day he and the judge did not see eye to eye, causing the boy to fling his cards down and refuse to shake his opponent's hand.  Ooer. 

Out and about:

We picked the coldest day to go up to Grouse Mountain.  In shorts.  Bloody freezing.  We did not get off at the top to see anything, just jumped right back on the chair lift to come down and sprint to the café.  Bloody tourists.

Lions Gate bridge:

Capilano:

 

That's me blogged out for now.

 

Laters.