The driving test

If you are a German, Korean, Swiss, or Austrian, then when you come to live in BC, you will not have to take a driving test. Because all the other lazy so-and-so’s have not firmed up any agreement, every other national has to take the Canadian driving test, a harrowing experience for an experienced driver, who thus has to go back to basics.
Having learnt how to survive, the newcomer will now have to learn the whole road sense book, the Canadian highway code, before embarking on a road test which becomes more and more complex as you uncover all the different rules of the road.
After years of driving in France, where an indicator is a form of Christmas light, and giving way was a form of conceding honour, Vancouver demands that you perceive all pedestrians as part of the royal family, and give them rights even if they don’t have right of way, nor even want to cross the road. Woe betide anyone who takes on a zebra crossing (crosswalk) full of skittles.

I practised regularly on internet, but the real road sense test involved some 50 questions. I for some reason believed that there were only 35, and was convinced that I had failed. I started OK, but then the mistakes came, and began to mount. I had used up my 7 and had not counted the total number of questions, and figured I had failed miserably. As it happens, I had used up my 10 mistakes possible with 3 or 4 questions to go. Finally it ended, and my score of 40/50 came on the screen – I had passed, but as the Duke of Wellington had said, “it was a damn close run thing”.
Fast forward 3 weeks to 10 July, and on a baking summer’s day, I prepared for my test. I had taken a lesson a few days before, and it proved invaluable, as a girl of 24, born 8 years after I had passed my first car test, went thru all my weak points and showed me a number of key areas to improve on, namely left turns.
However, in the days leading up to the test I became more and more nervous, and more and more aware that my driving was not up to scratch. I didn’t see pedestrians, got myself into a pickle on junctions, and could not for the life of me find the 30 kph zones near schools and play areas.
The day arrived, and a young Matt took me off for the test. He was cool and in control, gave me a hard time for gong slow, but was fairly predictable, and helped by hot weather which kept the traffic low and pedestrians off the streets, I began to feel confident. In the end I almost goofed, by rolling over STOP signs, but he let me off, and for the rest I felt good. Good enough to race home, very much relieved not to have to wait a week without a licence!

Tonnetje has her driving test the 1st of August, we keep you posted!

Pizza delivery

« The bear necessities of life will come to you ». My understanding was that the bears hibernate in the winter, except for a few, but when the snow melt, they will awake and come down hunting for food. Best time of the year to see the bears is between May and September.
From our back garden the trail leads directly into the forest and down to the river Lynn Creek. It is a path that is partly overgrown, but a classic forest trail, very silent, but occasionally you can hear a branch creak, snap, the wind blows, and can you really hear something? Is anyone or anything watching? Down by the creek the rush of the rapids obscures almost all other sounds, and the rich natural beauty of British Columbia abounds and you feel quite safe. Wandering along the trail up and down Lynn creek, it can seem a little creepy, but we never saw any wildlife, although sometimes around a bend, behind a tree, we could never be sure what was there, or could be there, or was once there.

The storming of the Bastille.

At 08H40 on July the 14th, we heard a loud bang. My fear was someone stealing the newly acquired buggies. However, it seemed a strange noise. Tonnetje arose to take a look and the dog burst out of the door onto the deck and barked furiously. Tonnetje rushed in and grabbed the camera. “What is it?”, I remarked, “A bear has got the old pizza boxes” she replied. And sure enough, there was George the bear in the neighbours garden, whilst two empty pizza boxes lay on the ground next to the garbage bin lying prostrate outside our shed. Gazing from the safety of our deck, we observed George, who made eye contact with us, but otherwise seemed unmoved. Tonnetje clapped her hands once, and he (or she, couldn’t really check) just carried on appraising the situation, although on a second clap and shouting “Go” he did loiter off. Strangely, no one wanted to wander down to the river that morning……..

I (Tonnetje) now realise we cannot leave our rubbish bin outside and the bin has to be put outside on the street 30 minutes before pick up (07h00 in the morning). We were warned by the neighbours, but I thought it can’t be that bad, well it is!

Here some pictures I took from “George”