|My ride. An Embraer 175|
After about 30 minutes bus ride, it is time to walk again. Straight West, towards the beach ;-)
I get to the beach just minutes after sunset. I can't wait for sunrise tomorrow morning ;-)
Checking into my studio compartment is reasonably uncomplicated I have a view of the beach and the horizon. The soul is at peace.
I eat very good but horribly expensive Unagi Don at a place close to the hotel, and right after dinner my soul no longer is at peace. Grandma doesn't answer her daily evening phone call from her grandson. Sometimes she has the TV too loud and doesn't hear the phone, but today she doesn't answer for more than 1 hour. Fearing the worse, I contact a good friend in Vancouver, who will drive to the house and bang on the door. Fearing the very worse, I busy myself with contingency planning. I think about calling the ambulance or fire department to knock down the door if loud knocking doesn't result in an answer. Organizing someone to stay the night in the house without door. Getting back to Vancouver on the earliest possible flight (6:15 am tomorrow morning). I realize how lucky I am to have friends who I can call in this hour to help.
But for now I'm sitting here waiting. My friend doesn't have her car yet and won't have it until about 10 pm. I eat way too many chocolate chip cookies and start feeling sick, not just because of the cookies.
9:49 pm. Still no answer from Grandma. She hasn't answered the phone for almost 3 hours and I have not much hope.
10:10 pm. The car is on the way
10:46 pm. Chantal calls. The TV is mindblowingly loud and Grandma is shouting from the inside. She is probably calling for help, I say. NOPE. She is swearing at Chantal for knocking on the door in the middle of the night. Now she finally answers the phone, ignores my advice to turn down the volume on her TV, and gives me shit for having contacted 'the neighbours' at this hour. Now here is the old Grandma. And I had thought and hoped that constant contact with me had mellowed her out. NOPE. I interrupt her accusative tone to tell her that I'm happy that she's OK and that we'll talk tomorrow. HANG UP. I call all my little helpers and thank them profusely. I owe them all big time. When I get back to Vancouver, Grandma will get one of those "help I have fallen and can't get up" alert bracelets, because I'm pretty darned sure I will never mobilize my friends again to drive there to get verbally abused.
Ah well. I'm not flying home tomorrow.
My first night in Venice Beach presents me with restless sleep and uninterrupted dreams that I remember vividly after waking up, which I usually never do. NO, I don't dream of Grandma. I dream all night of George.