Why I hate Alberta

Or, perhaps more accurately, why does Alberta hate me?

The morning started off great in BC, a farewell pancake breakfast and some recommendations from our wonderful host. We began driving, through beautiful BC, over mountains, and stopping at the world’s largest truck for lunch. Or rather, the grocery store next to the world’s largest truck.

Then we crossed the border. A call to our hosts at our designated meeting spot simply got a response of other WWOOFers who had no clue how to get to the place. We wandered around lost on the gravel roads for two hours in the sun, before finally finding the place. As we stopped to open the gate the car behind us stopped, and out stepped a fake tanned woman in a small pink halter. Not the German proprietress I had expected, but our host nonetheless. I introduced myself, showed her the e-mails we had send confirming, but she was not happy to see us.

As I had not e-mailed her yesterday to confirm a third time she claimed she had assumed we were no shows and had a couple from German coming in tomorrow (I know I plan my adventures across oceans in one day and leave the next) and was too full for us. All she had was a tent. I asked if we could at least have the tent for the night, and would head out in the morning. She responded that there were bears in the area, and we wouldn’t be able to shower. I explained that I had gone three months without a shower just fine. She said no.

So, although the stereotype is WWOOFers not showing up apparently it works the other way as well. We kept driving, not knowing what to do, and headed up towards Calgary. Our first town was full, a rodeo was happening, so we continued on, finally stopping at this strip mall of a place. Naturally my debit card didn’t work, and when I called the bank to authorize it they had no one on staff. Luckily Nick was able to get his to work at a different location and we’ve got a place for the night. But nowhere to go tomorrow.

We’ve gone for home cooked meals of chili, Thai peanut noodles, chocolate caked from scratch, to my dinner of poptarts and fries. The fast food joint was all out of salad. Here’s hoping that we can get out of this province and into something better before too long. But of course, this is just a bit of a plot twist in our journey and with any luck we will be on to a wonderful host soon enough.