#28- The Map That Leads To You

After all that has happened, I sound foolish when I say that I was flabbergasted when the movers gave Travis and I only three hours of notice to meet our things and have them cleared at the US/Canada border. It was a Friday afternoon, the day of a huge rain storm and we were needed at the border smack dab in the middle of western Canada’s weekend pilgrimage to Seattle. I just couldn’t believe it. 

It had been 27 days since our stuff had been picked up from Florida and seven months since it had been picked up from New York; traveling to the Bahamas, Miami, Daytona, Washington, and now finally  Canada. People say that “moving”, along with “divorce” & “death of a loved one”, is one of the most stressful things human beings (never-the-less Bob!) face, and we had been moving for over eight months. After scrambling to leave work midday, Trav drove us back to the border where we had crossed into Canada six weeks prior. As we drove through endless sheets of rain and brake lights, I cursed for over 2 hours.

I was so tired of feeling helpless. I couldn’t believe that for the last 45 days we had been at the complete mercy of our moving company as they struggled to get our things into Canada. We were still living in the hotel as we still didn’t have a delivery date. Each day that passed, we grew more and more anxious to move into our new apartment that had now been sitting vacant for over a month. How was this still happening!? We were freakin’ IN Canada, what more were we supposed to do!? Wasn’t this never-ending journey down the rabbit-hole ever going to end??!

I composed myself as we pulled into the visitor’s parking lot on the Canadian side of the border. I’m currently addicted to a Canadian reality show that details how fiercely Canada protects its borders (going through cell phones and laptops) and as a result, I genuinely fear them. We weren’t sure how well received it would be that this was the third International port our things had been through since last being in our possession. We also didn’t even remember what was in these boxes, (or what’s left in these boxes), after the eight month journey. Surprisingly, very few questions were asked. We met our driver, cleared our things by showing our work permits, and made a plan to meet the driver at our apartment building at 9am the next morning. 

It was dark and still pouring as Trav drove back to the hotel four hours later, but there was now light at the end of the tunnel.

The next morning, our bed, a couple of televisions, and lots of  small boxes were unloaded into our new Vancouver apartment. Everything looked like it had been through a war- hadn’t it?

We tallied up all of the damaged items, some replaceable, some not; and felt overwhelmingly thankful that this nightmare had finally ended. We had been dreaming about our first night in our own bed since leaving New York.

It took us surprisingly two trips to move out of our hotel room. Living in a hotel, a haunted hotel, for over 40 days had been an experience that Trav, Bob and I would never forget.  They took great care of us, and of course the feather bedding and frequent room service was wonderful. After a while, though, one can only take so much of the neighbors changing as much as the bed sheets. 

Our first day in our new home, in a foreign country, was a Saturday filled with waves of emotion. It was impossible not to feel sheer gratitude for the majestic beauty of Vancouver that could be seen all around us from the beautiful apartment. As I unpacked each box while watching boats float by on the creek below, my heart sank. Beach chairs, umbrellas, and coolers of every shape and size. New tank tops and sleeveless dresses with the tags still attached. As I pulled out all 15 bikinis that I had previously packed for life in the Bahamas, I remembered the vision I had when I packed these boxes, of what the sunny future held for Trav and I. Now, over 3,000 miles in the opposite direction, in sweat pants and a hoodie, I couldn’t help but reflect on the insane journey that had instead re-routed us to Vancouver Canada. 

As painful as it was to place endless beach gear into the guest room closet, it was also possibly the most enlightening and cathartic moment of this entire wacky experience. I couldn’t help but laugh as I saw myself, with 20/20 hindsight, as I tried to control every step of this life-changing experience, even up until the delivery of our former lives to Vancouver- which obviously showed up whenever it wanted anyway. I laughed because every single one of my efforts proved fruitless, although I managed to cause myself so much strife trying to regain some type of control. Looking back, our only peace came with absolute surrender. Maybe it was pulling bikini bottoms out of a box marked “boat” while breathing the fresh mountain air that finally made me realize that I was simply no match for destiny. All along, and unbeknownst to us, there was an insanely rich plot to get us to Vancouver, Canada. A plan so solid that using “paradise” as bait would simply redefine the word itself. 

Who would ever want a journey like that to end? I started this blog with a stomach-churning road trip to Hana and since then, have had an unexpected life-changing road trip to Vancouver. Behind every curve has been a new and exciting adventure, refreshingly more spectacular than the last. Each giant hill and blind-faith bridge has led us here…for now. This colossal detour has led us to a place we never would have found otherwise. A map was clearly drawn to a better place.

Welcome Home. Welcome to Vancouver…

Stay tuned...

#27 Home Sweet Home

We entered Canada not having any clue what to expect from our new Country. We found out upon arriving that it was the eve of a long Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. With the actual holiday on Monday, Canadians were getting ready to spend the weekend giving thanks with traditional turkey dinners. Celebrating Thanksgiving in mid-October made us feel more like foreigners than we had expected. We were thankful that Trav had the "holiday" off, delaying the longest summer vacation in history. However, we knew it would definitely impede our much needed apartment hunting so we decided to spend the weekend eating much missed Indian food.


We had been scouring Craigslist for the past 30 days, for endless hours each day, trying to find the perfect place to live in Vancouver. Hopeful searching had turned to complete desperation in the final days before leaving Florida as we realized that extremely expensive Vancouver was filled with paranoid, dog-hating landlords.


We had previously decided that we wanted to live in the heart of Vancouver to get a true taste of the city life. After 30 days and countless hours of searching, we found that 'city life' would cost around $3,000/month for 500 square feet. We were glad that 90-percent of the rentals we had seen online were furnished (after having sold all of our things) but we quickly learned that “furnished” in Vancouver meant “only dollhouse furniture fits here”. Places and their furnishings were so ridiculously small, I found myself expecting to see apartments that shared a bathroom per floor like laundry. When it became painfully obvious that "furnished" meant "nonfunctional", I started to panic. Potential landlords advising that Bob's wolverine-like weight exceeded their pet policy or that he "isn't allowed in the bedrooms of the residence" made me want to scream. I remembered that the homeless population in Vancouver all seemed to have dogs that were Bob's size. Made me think they weren't homeless before they came to Vancouver- they just couldn't find anywhere to live. What had we done?

north van in the background

The city was silent on the Saturday of the big holiday weekend and the weather was continuing it’s streak of amazing warmth and sun. Having found nothing on Craigslist for downtown Vancouver in our morning pining over coffee, we decided to expand our search across Vancouver Harbour to North Vancouver, aka "North Van".

convention center downtown vancouver

I've been telling everyone that living in Vancouver is like living in a National Geographic magazine. Every time I turn my head, the beauty is overwhelming. Travis wanted to strangle me, as every 30- seconds I wanted to stop and capture "the perfect shot". The sound and sight of sea planes taking off made me feel like a kid seeing a whole new world for the very first time. As the fog settled in to hug the small city, even the rain became beautiful. It was hard to stay focused on the task at hand.

view from north van

North Van starts right at the waterfront and ascends up the mountainside. There are gorgeous apartments and condos with cute restaurants that line each street inviting you to inch your way up the steep climb. We traversed each street through "lower" and then "middle Lonsdale", looking for “For Rent” signs. Since Craigslist wasn’t producing any results and realtors seemed to "Holiday" every day, we were told the best way to find a steal was to hit the streets ourselves. We saw plenty of ground level condos (our first choice with Cujo, I mean Bob), but none were for rent. We were literally looking for "signs" as we tried to picture home in Vancouver. We had previously looked at North Van as a huge concession and now it appeared there wasn’t any vacancy anyway. This wasn’t going to be easy.

As the fog crossed the harbour (Canadians like to add unnecessary "u"s to words) from North Van, we boarded the Sea Bus back to downtown Vancouver. We grabbed a beer and some nachos at the opposite waterfront as we watched North Vancouver, and our hopes of a big affordable home, get swallowed up by the rain.

The rain passed quickly, as it usually seems to do and we made our way to Stanley Park. Another absolutely indescribably beautiful place in Vancouver. As the rain turned to mist, we were all of a sudden in a distant forest, which seemed miles away from everything. Even though we had been walking forever, we didn’t want to stop. We kept turning each page of the most beautiful magazine, we’d ever seen.

When Tuesday came, Trav was ready to go to work and I was ready to find us an apartment. I had two afternoon appointments that we had managed to set up over the weekend, and I made sure to scour Craigslist prior to heading out for the day. I contacted a realtor 4 hours after what seemed to be the perfect place was posted online. I was shocked when she actually responded and was available right then to show it. Having nothing but this mission on my plate for the day, I flew out the door and down to Yaletown.

I didn’t expect that I would get to the building as quickly as I had from the hotel (which is a big plus for Trav) and was 15 minutes early to the appointment. I took the time to walk through the park and along the gorgeous sea wall just steps from the building. I walked down to the Sea Bus which provides transport to Granville Island (Farmers Market) and/or Olympic Village (Beer and Nachos). I wanted to tell the realtor that we would take the apartment before I had even stepped inside.

The realtor showed up to the Drake St showing under-dressed and disheveled, as I had expected, and as soon as the doors opened to the 11th floor apartment, I had a hard time keeping any kind of poker face. The view from the floor-to-ceiling windows seemed to smack me in the face and I nearly pushed the realtor over as I rushed into the circular shaped living room. Where had this view been all of our lives!? I not only wanted it, I didn’t want to leave. I had to compose myself and cross my fingers that the rest of the place wasn't repulsive as nothing could be this perfect. As we walked through two bedrooms and two bathrooms, past the fireplace and mud room off the balcony, I realized it’s never too early to give thanks as I said my own silent prayer of gratitude for Vancouver.

I’m not sure that “one and done” translates in Canada as the realtor gave me a weird look in response to my attempt at humor. She just limply shook my hand in parting. I was honest when I told her that I had two more appointments to get to and would get back to her by the end of the day. I tried not to skip the few blocks as I was already picturing how I’d decorate the Drake St apartment.


I waited outside the large apartment building on Seymour Street for the next realtor. I was deep in thought when I was almost run over by a rushing “Pippi Longstocking” in a bright pink pea coat. Of course it was the realtor. I couldn’t get past the pigtails and pinkness, as we rode the elevator to the 21st floor. With only one bedroom, this place was the same price as the Drake St apartment but was “furnished”. I tried to squeeze by the desk pretending to be a dining table and the loveseat pretending to be a couch as I pretended to be interested in the apartment to appease Pippi.  I promised I’d call at the end of the day and rushed to my last apartment.

I had 15-minutes to make it across False Creek to Olympic Village and decided to take my chances with the scenic route and took the Cambie Street Bridge. It was gorgeous. I know, I keep saying that. Now you know how Travis feels.

yaletown from cambie st bridge

I made it just in time to see the next realtor ushering out a couple who had just seen the apartment and were now asking for an application. Cutthroat. I had my work cut out for me.

I was led up to the 9th floor apartment and was impressed by the immediate view, but not by the lingering smell. As I entered the apartment, the difference between “furnished” and “tenant occupied by someone who’s had multiple cats for the last 6 years” was disturbingly clear. I was barely in the hallway when I was met by a sliding glass door that I guess led to the second bedroom and I heard panic in the realtor’s voice. “Oh Oh wait! You have to take off your shoes!”. As I turned, I actually heard myself say “Really?” I tried to wipe the look of surprise off of my face as I took off my boots and put them next to the pile of laundry... in the hallway... As if improper use of a sliding glass doors didn't make me want to run, the cat puke all over the furniture sure did. After very obviously refusing to make eye contact with the puke, the realtor entertained me with his continuous attempts to still sell the place. I thanked him for his time, and tried to remember my shoes as I ran out.  I rushed back to the hotel to make Drake Street an offer.

The first realtor had let it slip that the landlord just wanted it rented and she really didn’t even know how much it was listed for. I took advantage and we negotiated the deal of the century. That was only step one.

We had secured our work permits at the border when we arrived to Canada which meant Travis could start work right away. We then had to get Canadian social security numbers to be able to open a bank account. When the US counterpart of our Canadian bank acted like no American had ever moved North, the stress intensified as we tried to transfer the funds needed to hold the apartment. When I was finally able to drop off the check, I still wasn't stress-free. That was only step two.

The walk-through date was set and pending any repairs, we were going to get our keys. Yet the night before we gained access to the first place we've called home in seven months, I couldn't sleep. Travis had never even seen the place. Talk about pressure.


We gained keys to the apartment during the last week of October and Travis fell as much in love with the place as I did. It was even better than I had remembered. We finally had the keys, I couldn't wait to live here. Unfortunately, that was only step 3.

Our amazing apartment sits empty as we wait for more steps in this long process of 'coming home'. After 30 days in the hotel, our stuff that has gone from New York in April to the Bahamas, to Miami to Daytona, has been picked up from Florida and is in transit to Washington. Like starving dogs waiting for scraps, we wait daily for word on when our stuff will arrive to Vancouver. Securing a move-in date will only bring us through step 4.

We found out yesterday that step 5 includes us meeting our stuff at that crazy Canadian border...

Miles to go before we sleep...

Read Next: #28- The Map That Leads To You, Dec 30

#26- Everything Happens For a Reason

I've always been wired to ask the question "why?". So, living on faith for the last 5 months has been a test of a lifetime for me. Ever since our dreams were dashed in Florida and a new path was drawn to Vancouver, I have been asking everyone who would listen "WHY?!". Of course to no avail. And yet, somehow, when we left Florida, I had hope that the ever-pressing question of "Why Vancouver over the Bahamas?" would be answered somewhere on our long journey to the Pacific Northwest. 

 We had been through Florida, Georgia, and Tennessee. Nashville had been the perfect first stop. And just like destiny was guiding us to Vancouver, Waze was now guiding us to the Gateway Arch in St. Louis.

On day three of our trip, we hit St. Louis around 2:30p and saw the Gateway Arch that had come up so many times on Monday evenings at trivia, in clear sight. We had come far enough that a 'drive by' wasn't suitable but we couldn't exactly get out of the car without leaving Bob. I decided to Google "the best park to take a picture of the Arch" and let Google guide us into East St. Louis. I didn't know much about East St. Louis but after we reached the park, hopped out to leisurely walk Bob and take pictures of a now distant Gateway Arch, I decided to read the park's reviews aloud. With a dirty look, Trav drove a little faster as we let Waze guide us out of what one woman called "a good place to get stabbed" and now followed our digital guide through Missouri and into Kansas City, Kansas for some Arthur Bryant's BBQ.

I figured if the President stopped here on his trip through KC that we should too and pulled right up before closing. Again, because we had Bob in the car, we took what some people called 'the best BBQ they've ever had" to-go and tried to find a hotel. After grabbing a room and a beer, we spread the ribs, beans, and cole-slaw out, picnic-style, on the king-sized bed. We enjoyed the best baked beans we've ever had, watched Thursday Night Football and had sweet dreams of Denver, my home town and our next stop.

From Kansas, we slipped into Colorado. Denver has always been my favorite city and not just because I was born there. There's a magic to the mile high city that I can't explain. It was palpable as we arrived on Friday evening. We had booked a room in downtown for three nights in order to have enough time to see family and friends, and of course, catch a Broncos game.

The latter came quickly after tons of food and quality time with friends and family. By the time our Uber driver arrived at the hotel to pick us up for the game, I was wondering why I had previously refused to move back home. We told the driver to drop us off as close as possible to the stadium as we were meeting my family for one tail-gate and our friends for another. Equipped with comfortable shoes, short-sleeves, and a 12-pack under our arms, we were prepared to cover a lot of ground before the game started. We had just cracked our first beer when we noticed a crowd. Since neither our family or friends had arrived yet, we decided to see what the fuss was about and gained our front row spot along the barricade. We were only confused for a few seconds before we heard the crowd erupt in cheers. We turned to see Payton Manning who was now coming straight for us. Are you kidding me right now!? He started signing autographs, and of course we weren't prepared. Have we not learned anything from The Sharpie Incident!? I just stared, and possibly drooled. We watched the rest of the Broncos team unload and head into the stadium. We had already scored BIG and the game hadn't even started.

Denver never disappoints delivering a great game with Peyton's milestone 500th TD pass (to Demaryius -above) and of course, a great time. We said our good-byes and packed up that evening for our next adventure. We were headed towards Yellowstone the next day, our official 7th day of this awesome road trip.

We drove through Colorado and into Wyoming. We arrived at Jackson Hole around 5p and checked into a cute dog-friendly lodge. We had a great dinner and drank local beer, but called it an early night as we had a full day of exploring to wake up to.

On day 8, we loaded into the car and realized how easy packing and unpacking had become. We now had everything down to a complete science. We also realized the crisp air had been getting increasingly cooler since St. Louis and sadly, the Florida sunshine seemed like a distant memory.

Day 8 was probably my favorite day of the entire trip. As we entered the Grand Teton National Park, with Bob in the back, we instantly saw our first Moose. Bob exploded in the backseat as the Moose crossed the road only a few yards away. We then drove very slowly, working our way through the Tetons as we stopped at leisure to take pictures. It was the most beautiful weather we had experienced so far and the fall color seemed to be magnified around every corner. We entered the South Entrance of Yellowstone around noon and drove up the east side, taking the rest of the afternoon to make our way to the North entrance. What an AMAZING experience. We stopped to photograph waterfalls, mountain goats, elk, buffalo stopping traffic, and some of the most beautiful scenery I have EVER seen. With no plans for the evening, we took our time and got to the North entrance as the sun began to set. We decided to push on to Bozeman Montana.

We had a great time in Bozeman and oddly had no trouble getting in the car for the end of our journey. We had planned to drive to Spokane and then continue to Seattle, getting us as close as possible for crossing the border on our 11th day of our amazing road trip. We were having a great time and though unspoken, neither of us wanted the trip to end. Partly because we had no idea what was on the other side.

As we drove through one of the most beautiful states I'd ever seen (Montana), towards the amazing national park of another (Washington), it hit me. Everything all of a sudden made perfect sense! Our biggest guide of all was revealing the answer in the incredible fall landscapes; and in the moose and all of the buffalo. He was spelling it out with great food, amazing family and quality friends. Why Vancouver over The Bahamas!?

Because there is so much more to life than salt.

Read Next: #27- Home Sweet Home, Nov 7th

#25- Farewell America (Part Deux)

Our audio book had been off for ten minutes but we still weren't talking. We had been inseparable for the past 154 days so we didn't need to talk for me to know how Trav was feeling as we finally approached the Canadian Border. Things were getting real as everything we had known for the last five months was finally coming to an end.

Florida seemed like ages ago as the border attendant asked us where we were traveling from. Our last 30 days at the beach had gone by way too fast. The weather had turned fickle and unpredictable after Labor Day which meant our days of sun and surf became less and less. Beach time was quickly replaced with scouring craigslist for a Vancouver home and planning our move out west.

Our nostalgic reminiscing quickly turned to nervous tension as the border attendant further questioned us and our intentions in Canada. We had been given an Immigration attorney by the hotel who had already walked us through our 'crossing procedure' and everything seemed easy enough. I had crossed the border from California to Mexico 100 times, so how hard could it be to cross into 'friendly' Canada? Oh, you have no idea.

Travis read verbatim the three lines given to us by the Immigration attorney, requesting permission to present our application for work permits to a CBSA officer, which, of course, triggered a slew of questions. She asked us where the rest of our stuff was, how long we had been in Florida, and why we had left New York. After Travis advised that we were moving for a job, the way she asked 'what happens if you don't like it?' stone-faced, and obviously requiring a serious response, I knew Canada was not messing around. She told us to pull aside into one of the lines of cars that were waiting for inspection. She told us to leave Bob in the car and go inside to line B.

As we drove out of line, our hearts were beating fast.

We parked the car and as we were leaving the vehicle, we thought it was a good idea to let the officer that was patrolling the parked cars know that Bob was inside (who was somehow sleeping through all of this). Her monotone and curt response was that he could be left in the car or pointed to a small cage that had an empty water dish on the outside. Ok, then.

The 'lobby' wasn't crowded and we stepped in line B. Like McDonalds, the agents were helping each person until they had been fully served, in lieu of taking the order and then calling the number when ready. So, Travis and I were standing in line for what seemed like a very long time. I felt myself making stupid small talk even though we had been in the car for 10 days and there was absolutely nothing left to talk about. I had realized quickly that I had underestimated Canada and now had no idea what to expect. The Immigration lawyer had warned that the CBSA officer had the power to deny or approve our work permits on the spot. Additionally the first woman who questioned us, had asked if we had gotten the car "authorized to import" which could take up to 72-hours. Our Immigration lawyer had never mentioned anything about requirements for importing the car so of course this was a step we hadn't completed. I couldn't imagine being stuck in Seattle for another 72-hours if they didn't let us cross with the car. My head was getting the best of me. I started to wonder if I was being observed for suspicious behavior as my brow began to sweat.

When it was finally our turn, we sprawled our paperwork on the desk and luckily every piece the officer was requesting was in the pile. There was still a hold up because he needed to verify that Travis's position at the hotel fell under the permit guidelines and he asked us to have a seat. I was watching Bob through the glass who had just started to raise his head and look around when I heard commotion behind me. "Is your cell phone locked? Give me the password". I turned to find two CBSA officers questioning an older bewildered couple who obviously spoke another language. Say what? These guys were demanding to go through their cell phones! Was that possible? Within minutes the woman was putting her Chanel purse on the counter and both were being frisked. What was going on?

Just then, we were called to the counter and the CBSA officer that had been helping us, was ready and willing to grant us our work permits. Hallelujah. We said "thank you" a million times and we both did the sign of the cross as we left the building. My heart sank as I saw the vehicle of the older couple being towed away with their dog and teenage son, now sitting on the curb. Damn, Canada is crazy!

As we drove through the check point, we were missing the United States.

There was only 10 minutes left of our 50-hour audio book and I'm pretty sure neither one of us heard any of it as we followed road signs to Vancouver and tried to guess the speed limit that was now posted in kilometers. For the next hour, as we told Bob he was now Canadian, we reminisced about our amazing road trip that we were not ready to end.


We had left Florida ten days prior, all three of us packed like sausages in our little Nissan and made way for the Pacific Northwest. For our first stop, we drove through Georgia into Tennessee. We had booked a condo through Airbnb for our extended stay of two nights and it was perfectly located in downtown Nashville. We checked ourselves in after an 11- hour drive around 5p, which was really 4p since we had gained an hour somewhere in Tennessee. Bob had done great and was comfortable enough to slip into sleep as we slipped out the door headed for the Grand Ol' Opry. What an amazing experience. There's not a bad seat in the house as we watched Bill Anderson, Brett Elderedge, Connie Smith, Easton Corbin, Jackie Lee, Marty Stuart and my favorite, Rascal Flatts. We couldn't stop talking about the iconic show as we drove over to famous Broadway for a late dinner and drinks.

On day two we decided we needed to make more room in the car before we took to the road again and looked for places nearby to ship one of the large suitcases to the Canadian hotel. Since a FedEx is located inside of one of my favorite hotels ever, we headed to Opryland. After unloading our baggage that would arrive in Canada before us, we walked around the gorgeous hotel. After a couple of hours, we had already scoped out a restaurant in Germantown that a friend had recommended and we needed to get there soon or we would miss lunch. We hopped in the car and drove the short trip, parked, and followed the single sign marking an iconic restaurant in a small house in a beautiful neighborhood. As if stepping into a movie, we were now on the set of a character home in the south, complete with the large woman greeting us at the threshold, inviting us into what looked like her own living room for lunch. It was a lunch we'll never forget.

We were ushered to the only 2 empty seats at a table of 8 where 6 people were already digging into the large bowls of amazing looking food. Each plate of the place setting was different, yet all reminded me immediately of my Grandma's dinner plates growing up, which of course, with the large woman continually calling Travis 'sugar' was adding to the ambiance. We made small talk with the others that were at the table and found that half the table was from East Lansing and the other half was from San Diego. Weird. Awesome. And then the food just kept coming. Large bowls of baked chicken, pork chops, baked apples, pasta salad, corn pudding, stuffing, fried chicken, jello salad, green beans, corn bread, biscuits and gravy, mashed potatoes- all seemed like they were on a conveyor belt out of the kitchen. Every time one was placed on the table, we were reminded sweetly, yet strictly, that everything was to be passed to your left. With a strict no cell phones at the table rule, we ate and passed, and ate and passed, until no one was talking and the only sounds were groans of pain from overeating. As the table collaboratively cried 'uncle', plates were replaced with little cards that reminded us that if we took a seat, we must pay for our plate. Floorboards creaked as we waddled past the fireplace to the front to pay our bill. $12.00 per person. This place was officially heaven.


Still in pain, we went back to the condo and tried to walk off the newly acquired pounds while walking Bob. When Bob went back to catching up on sleep, we walked to nearby downtown and walked to the Ryman Theater, down Broadway and toured the Country Music Hall of Fame. By then, it was time for a beer so we went to the famous Tootsie's Orchid Lounge and headed to the roof. We listened to great live music and had some beers before heading back to the condo. While fighting an impending nap, we started googling foodie places nearby and were teetering on indulging in more gluttony at a place called Rolf and Daughters. When a friend then coincidentally recommended we try the place before we left, we jumped in the car for what turned out to be another amazing meal. When we returned to the condo, we hoped to wake from the incoming food coma to be able to drive the next day.

On day three we loaded up the car, this time less a suitcase, and we were ready for another adventure. We put St. Louis Gateway Arch in Waze and headed for Missouri. Thank you Nashville for such an amazing stop.

As we drove out of Nashville, we were listening to country music.

From Tennessee to Kentucky to Illinois to Missouri to Kansas. Read Next: #26- Everything Happens For a Reason, Oct 23rd

#24- End of an Era

Deciding to move to Vancouver was not easy. In fact, it was one of the hardest decisions that either one of us has ever had to make. We were shell-shocked by the introduction of Canada as a salt life replacement for the Bahamas. Still, we had to weigh all of the pros and cons of this newly presented opportunity. From the moment the offer letter came in, until "Decision Day" four days later, all we did was talk about Vancouver.

There was no doubt that Vancouver was one of the most unexpectedly beautiful places we had ever been. It was entirely different from what we had been seeking in Florida. Yet, the mountains, the forest, and the ocean surrounding the city left us wanting more. The high prices were daunting and we felt we were going to have to concede our plans of living larger than we had been living in New York. While in the Bahamas, we would be able to save for our future with a yard and picket fence. In Vancouver, we were investing in a future with one of the best hotel brands in the world. Maybe Vancouver was just a place to get our feet wet, who knows? Something kept telling me it was worth finding out.

We had returned from Vancouver in time for Labor Day weekend and headed straight to the beach on Saturday morning. Notoriously not a weekend of rest for us, we remembered how just three years ago Hurricane Irene had flooded our basement apartment in Hoboken, forcing the three of us to live out the end of August in a midtown Manhattan hotel. A friend had told us about Long Beach New York. It was Saturday of Labor Day weekend 2011 when we saw Long Beach for the first time. As we drove over the bridge to the cutest island I had seen, I knew we were home. I could feel it in my gut. There was something in my gut that was now telling us to go to Vancouver.

I started trying to find red flags. We were searching for endless summers and Vancouver's summers definitely end. However, because Vancouver has a moderate oceanic climate, it doesn't see the snows of winter that I had defiantly refused to return to.  Due to the mountains, the city sees little if no snow, but surely sees its fair share of grey and gloomy days. This is not our cup of tea. But even as I saw our beach days limited and less days swimming in the surf, Vancouver seemed to offer so much more.  Yes, I will always be an eternal beach bum, but I'm also an explorer and a lover of change and new things. This opened the doors to an entire country that we had previously neglected to investigate. The more we talked and talked, the only flag I was seeing had a red maple leaf.

Travis wasn't so sure. He wasn't against Canada, but he too had no idea how we had wound up in this predicament. He was excited for the opportunity but also unsure of such a big change. We knew so little of what our life would be like in Canada. It was the largest leap of blind faith we'd ever been asked to make. And how do you pull that trigger?

It was Monday and our minds were still laboring heavily on the decision to accept or deny the offer. We had spent days researching and constantly conversing every time we left the house. Craigslist ads were haunting my nightmares and I was waking up at 2am in cold sweats. We needed this to end. Exhausted, we decided that we needed time to put our affairs in order in Florida (aka: get as much sun as possible before we left!) We also needed other items clarified in the offer letter before we could accept. We knew that in asking for the above, if they accepted, we needed to be ready to move to Vancouver. Trav sent his requests, thanking the hotel in Vancouver for the opportunity.

As we waited for their response, the skies grew grey in Florida. The waves got rough and the breeze eerily moved in. I guess there really is no such thing as an endless summer afterall.

We heard back from the hotel brand accepting all requests that were made, welcoming Travis to their Vancouver family. And just like that, we became Vancouverites.

Read Next: #25- Farewell America (Part Deux)- October 15th

#23- Taking Vancouver by Storm

It was Wednesday evening, three days into our trip to Vancouver, and Trav had just returned to the hotel room after his 9^th interview. He was supposed to be done for the evening but when the phone rang in the room, I knew that wouldn’t be the case. The caller was the GM of the hotel and he wanted to know if Trav could meet him on the roof to have drinks. We knew at that moment that more than cocktails were now on the table.

I paced the hotel room as my anxious gut wouldn’t allow me to sit. When Trav returned an hour later, he confirmed our suspicions. They loved him (of course!) and were extending an offer the next morning. The first thing I felt was pride. Of course they loved Trav, who didn’t!? He had endured grueling interviews for days and so far, everything about this trip had paid off. The first thing Trav felt was relief. The second thing we both felt was hunger. We headed to 'World Famous' Vijs but we weren’t exactly in the mood to celebrate. We had no idea what we were going to do.

My mind was a tangled mess. I couldn’t focus with everything that was swirling around in my head. I lost my room key, almost left my phone on the bus, and couldn’t form complete sentences. Canada?? Really?? This was overwhelming. We waited the standard hour for arguably the best restaurant in Vancouver and recapped our trip over jackfruit and red curry venison.

On the first day, we had arrived to Vancouver around noon and Trav had 2p meetings in the hotel. Things were off to a bad start when we were told that a room wouldn’t be ready until 4p. Since Trav needed to shower and change, and the health club didn’t seem to be a suitable option, we started to wonder if this trip was a bad idea. However, they found us a room and Trav got to his meetings just fine. Even though I was exhausted from being up at 3a for our flight, I hit the ground running. I took a map from the front desk and for the next four hours, I explored Vancouver on foot. My first stop was Robson Street since the hotel was Downtown. While walking and checking the sights, I looked to my right and saw water so I headed to the harbor. Coal Harbour is beautiful. The backdrop of the mountains, with the intense greenery of Stanley Park, is absolutely breathtaking. When the first sea planes crossed the horizon, I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Beauty like Vancouver can simply not be explained. I’ve never seen anything like it. I immediately spotted a seal playing in the harbor and watched it swim playfully through the boats that were returning with their fresh catches. Like dogs, the seals begged for scraps. I smiled ear to ear. I had only been in Vancouver for an hour.

When I first moved to Manhattan on 55^th and 6^th, I made it a point to escape into Central Park every day. I would get lost in its silence for hours, so naturally I gravitated to Stanley Park which takes up the entire northern tip of downtown. Hypnotized by its gorgeous greenery, I was surprised when the skies opened up and the expansive English bay was revealed. I had made it to Second Beach. I walked along the Sea Wall to English Bay Beach, after dipping my toes in the cold & crisp water. By the time I made it to the Art Installation 'A-Maze-ing Laughter', Trav let me know that he was done with interviews, and hungry. I gave him directions to meet me back in Coal Harbour. I walked back through the West End of Downtown, admiring the shops and adorable outdoor eateries along the way. I met Trav at a restaurant called Carderos. While sitting over the still water with the mountains as our backdrop, we drank Granville Island Pale Ale and ate coconut curry mussels. I told him I wanted to live in Coal Harbour. We quickly paid the bill, as reality set in, we were late for our fantasy football draft…

On day two Trav was up and out early for the second round of interviews. I was a little slower to rise as the incredible cocktails from the previous night’s dinner at Wildebeast were taking their toll. I was still in the room when Trav returned around 11am, shaky from too many cups of coffee, and we made a plan to again explore the city. We needed to get a handle on public transportation so we decided to try the bus. Needing exact change, Canadian, we had to exchange our money at the bank. May, the teller was incredibly friendly. I thought it was nice when she spent 15 minutes, unsolicited, circling everything she could think of on our map. But when she started to go over all of the different colors that Canadian currency comes in, I wondered if there was such thing as “too friendly”… We took the bus to Kitsilano. The waiter from the previous evening lived in “Kits” and I knew it was somewhere I wanted to check out after reading it has the “best beaches in the world”. Our feet hit the sand of Kitsilano immediately and yes, it is truly a beautiful beach. It’s definitely different than beaches I’ve come to love in Florida. The shores are rocky and the sand is landscaped with large logs. Yes, logs that people eat on, sit on, and use as back rests. It just happened to be the hottest day of the year in Vancouver and every log was taken. I didn’t notice a single beach chair so maybe they were on to something. Just as breathtaking as the view of the horizon is Kitsilano’s salt water pool, right along the beach. The longest pool in Canada is stunning. Another day of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. We made our way through the Point Grey neighborhood as we headed west to Jericho beach. Another gorgeous beach surrounded by miles of endless forest. After my fourth beach, I was content that there would be enough salt in this type of life.

We chatted over street tacos at Browns Social House on trendy West 4^th . As I fell in-love with the local Amber Ale, I told Travis I wanted to live in Kitsilano.

That night we dined in the hotel, exhausted from walking miles and miles exploring. The salmon was divine and so was the raspberry caviar sent over by the Chef who had recognized Travis. Vancouver was seriously pulling out all of the stops.

On Wednesday morning Travis had another interview and was up and out by 8am. I was ready when he returned an hour later and again, we took to the city streets. We took the sea bus across False Creek to Granville Island. Not even a 5 minute ride, this island was absolutely adorable. Home to the famous Granville Public Market, cute cafes and restaurants-all with water views- and fantastic little shops. Mesmerized by the market that seemed to have everything, we wandered the streets until we felt we had conquered the island. We then took the sea bus to Olympic Village. Since being home to the Winter Olympics in 2010, this area has done an incredible transformation. Gorgeous high rises lined the water front. When I spotted the Craft Beer Market on Salt Street, I told Travis I wanted to live in Olympic Village.


Now, here we were at Vijs trying to decide our fate. The coconut water in my vodka was as cloudy as my thoughts. There was no doubt that Vancouver is high on the list of the most beautiful places I had ever been. Could that beauty be enough to blind us from the high costs in Vancouver and the frequent rain? I couldn’t get those factors out of my head. Even as the voices of Granville Street told me we were home.

While sitting in the airport yesterday morning, the Offer Letter came through. We’re so grateful to have such an incredible opportunity offered to us and I’m so proud of Travis for solidifying this option for our family. Honestly, we have absolutely no idea what we’re going to do. We have until Tuesday to turn the page and choose our own adventure…

Read Next: #24- End of an Era, Sept 12, 2014