A Short Whistler
Stop
by Terry Cassel

Courtesy: Whistler Tourism
riving
towards Whistler Resort gave me awesome views of British Columbia's
Coast Mountains. Towering pines and fir trees populated the near horizons
and a red-tailed hawk circled directly overhead.
Distracted, I whipped the rented Honda Civic across
the center stripe of the two-lane mountain road. I was looking out all
the windows at once. Suddenly I encountered oncoming traffic and I lurched
to the right, sliding off the road, scattering dirt and gravel in a
grinding cloud of dust.
I sat, my heart pumping, while the air cleared.
After a moment I stepped out of the car and stood there, glancing around.
Fog swept through the tall trees, birds sang, patches of snow dotted
the mountaintops and water rumbled in the creek below. It was mid-morning
and more cars were climbing up the mountain now, roaring past me.
Courtesy: Whistler Tourism
I arrived in Whistler Village about two hours after
motoring north from Vancouver. I couldn't believe the number of people
clogging the streets. It was still days ahead of the official beginning
of Whistler's Wellness Week, an annual June event drawing thousands
of devotees from all over the planet.
Whistler has become one of the top wellness destinations
in the world, a haven for mind-body practices and therapies. During
Wellness Week, yoga, acupuncture, special cuisine and sunrise meditations
are among the many activities health aficionados explore with substantial
enthusiasm.
Desperate for a beer, I parked as close as I could to
the central village, and wound up more than a mile up the road. I walked
down and strolled into one of the many joints designed for beer-drinking.

Courtesy: Whistler Tourism
Laid out like a model European Alpine village, Whistler
is a web of pedestrian streets with upscale cafes, crowded bars, fashionable
boutiques, high end galleries, outdoor outfitters and ski shops. Whistler
is best known as a world class ski resort, with the highest unchecked
vertical ski descent (over 5,000 feet) in the world. In fact, the village
is already preparing for the 2010 Winter Olympic Games, which Whistler
and Vancouver will co-host from February 12-28. The Paralympic Games
will follow March 12-21.
I ordered a Sierra Nevada from the tap. A young woman
behind me exclaimed, "American!" I looked around. She was smiling at
me. "Am I right?" she chirped in a bright Australian accent. She was
blonde and pretty, two female characteristics that don't usually find
me particularly interesting.
"How could you tell?" I replied, still looking over
my shoulder.
"Your swagger," she said. "And your beer. Mainly your
beer."
"Oh," I said, "I thought maybe you saw the way I drove
up here this morning."
"And your attitude," she added.

Courtesy: Whistler Tourism
I had never been to Whistler outside of ski season.
The air was fresh and alive with floral scents. A steady breeze blew
a cool stream in through the front door of the bar and wrapped itself
around us.
"I didn't realize it was so green up here," I observed.
It was chilly, too, and snow still clung to the tops of the ski slopes.
My beer arrived.
"Yes, it's beautiful here," she agreed, sipping the
last of her hot tea.
"Do you live here, or are you here for the health stuff?"
I asked, turning my chair towards her.
"Oh, I live here," she said. "But I travel a lot, so
I don't spend much time really enjoying the mountain."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a health consultant," she explained. "I advise
businesses and schools, and other groups about diet, exercise, alternative
medicines and health treatments, and healthy lifestyles. I lecture and
teach classes, mostly in Europe and New Zealand, and South Africa. I
just got back from Greece"
"There's a market for alternative treatments around
the world then?" I suggested.
"Sure," she nodded, smiling. "Even in the U.S."
"So, generally, what do you think of Americans?" I asked,
pulling my chair over to her table. She smiled at my maneuver and I
quickly added, "I hope you don't mind?"
"Well," she pondered a moment. "Americans are loud,
and athletic. American food is mediocre, but the service is excellent."
She paused and looked out the window. "And American politics is silly.
What are you people thinking?"
Surprised by this last comment, I thought for a moment.
What is it about politics that could possibly bother this accomplished
young woman?
She continued, "You don't realize how much people around
the world look up to America. They love your music, your movies…"
"Our money," I interrupted.
"No," she said. "Not so much that. Sure, the tourist
businesses want American dollars, and governments all look for handouts,
but people are mainly fascinated by this big fantasy of a country of
yours. They really want to like America, the American Dream, and Americans.
But your politicians, your business leaders, your greed and your wars,
well, they just screw everything up with hubris and arrogance and damn
stupidity…" Her voice trailed off. She was gazing out the window.
I leaned forward to see what she was looking at. A crowd
had gathered across the street. She became agitated. "Hey, look, sorry
I've got to go," she said, standing up and quickly grabbing her coat
and purse. "My name is Sarah. Here's my card. Call me later." And then
she was gone.
I did call her the next day. There was no answer. I
didn't leave a message. And I didn't stay for Wellness Week. I had things
to do, places to go, people to see. But I felt some frustration that
my conversation with Sarah was never properly finished. I wanted to
defend America, make excuses for our politicians, and somehow explain
that our elected officials really don't represent who the rest of us
are.
But, heck, they do. We elect these people. They do represent
us. That's how it works in a democracy. These people, especially our
president, are our face to the world. Sarah, and many other folks I've
spoken with, understand that the citizens of a country are usually better
people than the ones who profess to represent their interests in government.
I thought a lot about this on my way back down to Vancouver.
|