Pubs, Prostitutes & the PCG
During our time in the great Northwest this July I had some time to reflect. The kids were with their grandparents just north of Seattle, and I went up to Vancouver with Demetria for her Masters of Divinity Residency at Vancouver School of Theology.
It was a beautiful time on the campus of UBC and we had lots of fun going to the beach, eating sushi, drinking coffee and meeting some very seasoned, intelligent people. Most were from the Anglican, Presbyterian, and United Church of Canada, respectively.
It proved to be fairly expensive to stay on-campus so we drove about 8 miles to a motel each night, just south of the hockey stadium. Downtown Vancouver is pretty cool, lots of bookstores, coffee shops, ethnic food, and apparently venues that host punk rock bands.
Adjacent to our hotel was a pub that served as the venue for breakfast each morning. At night they served everything from burgers to salmon, chicken salad and such. While having dinner I was the recipient of a lecture on health care from the heavily tattooed bar tender who was convinced we would be better off following the Canadian or French model. Despite his gruff exterior I found his arguments to be somewhat convincing
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