A Day The Country Shared With Us

Yesterday we didn't blog. It was a good day--we went to Northern House, enjoyed dinner at Vij's and then watched the day's Olympic coverage on TV. Not a lot to tell. Different story today.

Today was the last day of the Olympics. It was also the day when the men's ice hockey gold medal match would be played. We knew that if we wanted to watch that game with others but have a seat and something to eat and drink, we would need a plan.


We rose earlier than usual and went to the False Creek pavilions where both Quebec house and Saskatchewan house were. That site didn't open until 10;00 and we got there a bit after nine. There was a line up but it seemed likely that many already in it were going to Molsen Hockey house or Ontario House.

Here we encountered the most disappointing moment of our Olympics. The line went up one side of the street from the gate and down the other side of the street past the gate again and on down the street. When the gate opened finally, the line did not hold. Those in the part of the line down the far side of the street just crossed it and jumped ahead of those who had arrived and waited ahead of them. The best that can be said of the mob desperate to secure a place to watch the big game is that it didn't degenerate to actual violence, but the behaviour was wrong and jarring after so many days of orderly civilized behaviour.

After squeezing past the bottleneck outside Molson Hockey House we went as planned to Maison du Quebec. That pavilion wasn't opening until 11:00 but we arrived to be at the front of that line, instead of well back in the line to Saskatchewan or Ontario house. We waited and watched person after person show up and ask, inanely, if they were playing the game. Many, strangely, left when told the game would have the French commentary, as though it could be heard over the noise of the crowd, anyway.

We were joined by our friend Claire, got in essentially first and secured a seat and food. The food was delicious and we were delighted to find that, while, there were no tables, just chairs, the staff were providing service to the chairs for both food and drink. We didn't use it much, since we stocked up when we arrived, but the fact of it around us created a civilized feeling that we are sure no other pavilion had.

As for the game itself, what can be said? If you watched, you know how exciting it was; if you didn't, no words of ours can convey it. There was, for Canadians, something wonderful not just about cheering with hundreds of others for Canada, but in doing so at Maison du Quebec. After all, whatever differences Quebec may have had with the federation, hockey was always something we shared passionately.

It was a smaller crowd than we had for the first US/Canada game, a more intimate feeling, but every bit as intense. We were across the street, essentially, from Canada Hockey Place where the game was being played. We were literally as close to the game as you could watch it without being in the arena. When we poured out onto the street after the win, we joined with those who had been there pouring onto the street and then with the city.

It was an enormous celebration. Street after street was shut down; in places all one could do was let the tide of the crowd take you and feel yourself a part of it. Threre were unstopping cheers and high fives. There were people climbing on lamp posts and bus shelters and roofs. There was no end of joy and no end of communal celebration.

Eventually after walking to the perimeter of the Robson street walk, we found a patio table to sit, eat and drink and watch the people go by. They continued to call out to us as they went by and reach over the patio fence to high five. One motorcycle went by with a woman topless to the world. We ate delicious food, drank three bottles of celebratory bubbly, and soaked it in. People at other tables had been at the game and we happily talked with them about that, and about their families and anything else that came to mind.

We walked Robson and Granville, (the latter of which was actually busier than Robson), stopped for another drink and walked out again. It was Kim who realized that the perfect way to cap all this off was to rent skates and go for a skate in Robson Square, which is what we did. None of us is a great skater, but we glided as best we could and shared that feeling with so much that we had seen over the Olympics.

Then, drained from skating, emotion, walking with an entire city, and, yes, a day of consistent drinking, we found our weary way home. The Olympics are over and nothing remains but the journey home (and to catch the closing ceremonies--we were too busy taking part in the celebrations to watch them live). Over the next few days we will ponder all that we have seen and done.

Completely satisfied,

The Entity
Paul McCulloch Alexander
Kim Boara Alexander