Dear all,
I want to share a few words about The Moore Hotel. As far as hotels go, it is about a one-and-a-half-star hotel. The rooms are clean and large, and they provide a bed, a bath, and a sink. Wireless was available in the lobby and near the elevator on the sixth floor. That's it.

The reason to stay there is not for the rooms, but for the people. The other travelers came from all over the world. They included German tourists staying one night before a cruise, a group of people who were just starting a bicycle tour of the Pacific Northwest, hippies of every stripe, confused Canadians, lots of Australians and British, and more. Literally sitting in the lobby, listening to conversations, is entertainment.

Today was dominated by the trip from Seattle, WA to Victoria, B.C.

Breakfast was back at Le Pichet. Since I did not know what travel would be like (due to two ferry crossings), I wanted a quick breakfast. We both chose home-made yoghurt with honey and walnuts, bread, and coffee. (Eli had a croissant; I had a brioche.) How continental!

We rented a car. Of course, since I planned so much time for us to travel -- everything went extremely smoothly. The first ferry crossing (from Edmonds, north of Seattle, to Kingston) kept us waiting only about ten minutes. The first ferry ride was smooth, fast, comfortable, and easy. Then we drove through the Pacific Northwest.

Poets have tried and failed to describe the pine forests, the rolling hills, the natural bay, the occasional mountain rising into the clouds, and the hills of the Pacific Northwest. I am no poet. Eli had to put up with me shouting, "Pretty!" pointing to a stunning view of a hillside of pine trees gently sloping to the Puget Sound, shouting "Pretty!" to a mountain peak rising majestically above the clouds, or shouting "Pretty!" to a restored XIX-century village with a museum and antique store.

"Pretty", indeed.

Of course, I didn't expect the trip to be so smooth. We arrived in Port Angeles by 2:00pm... and we had to be in line at the ferry at 4:15pm. We found a cafe/restaurant/bar with free wireless, bought lunches, plugged in, turned on, and got news.

What can I say about Port Angeles's downtown? It appears to have been built in the 1920's, and it mostly plugged along after that. It has bookstores, a few restaurants, many souvenir shops, and not much else that I saw. (We stayed within two blocks of the ferry terminal.)

We've become accustomed to ferries: the long trip from Port Angeles, WA to Victoria, B.C. was distinguishable only by its length (an hour and a half), and that the boat rocked more than the other two ferries. We cleared Customs with ease.^*

The few blocks that I've seen around the ferry are a stark contrast from Port Angeles. Where Port Angeles was a somewhat run-down commercial section, the area around Victoria's port is a wealthy, mostly-residential section. We twisted and turned the streets to find our bed and breakfast: Marketa's.

Marketa's is a bed-and-breakfast with about eight rooms. The first thing I noticed -- indeed, could not fail to notice -- demonstrated a gigantic difference between Canada and the United States. At the front door of Marketa's were three envelopes, with large writing on the sides. One of them had my name on it. The envelope, of course, had the keys.

Marketa is a no-nonsense Czech-Canadian. She is a proud artist, and her artwork -- photography and somewhat deformed images of flowers and vegetables -- decorates every room.

The bed and breakfast is beautiful; every room is filled with wood tables, wooden chairs, hand-weaved carpets, art, lamps both old and new, and dried flowers.

For dinner, Marketa recommended a nearby restaurant named "Superior's". Where Marketa's is a reconstruction from the 1890's, Superior's is a reconstruction from the 1960's. Superior's should have a sign out front with a mark: You must be this hip to enter. Fortunately, I just barely qualified. (Eli, of course, sailed far above the mark.)

I don't know whether it was the upside-down tree in the middle of the restaurant with crocket mallets, the birds nests on our table with croquet balls, the chair with a stuffed dog and ravens above the live musicians, or the monkey hanging from a rope above the bar, but something told me that Superior's was not a typical restaurant. The head waiter wore a Utilikilt. The artwork was moderately abstract -- though Eli thought one painting in the corner represented Hillary and Barack. (I said that the black man looked more like Malcolm X.)

Their food came in small but delightful portions. Neither of us were very adventurous: I had the "Pollo Diablo" -- a chicken thigh in a not-very-spicy paprika and horseradish sauce on a layer of corn bread. Eli had a steak in a garlic sauce with pommes frites. Both were good, but the dessert -- a pairing of chocolate and caramel mousse with caramelized sugar -- was incredible.

To bed, to rest, and to explore tomorrow. Take care!

^* Eli noted that I was acting nervous at Customs. I think that only my wife would have noticed.