GENERAL CAPTION
Victoria, British Columbia

Last weekend we crossed the Strait of Juan de Fuca under low clouds with a sharp eye for whales. Only 3 or 4 showed us their breath and none of them were too close. J and I went to Victoria hoping to break out of a bad case of active boredom and headaches or the monotony of social planning: where to live, what to eat, what movie to watch, how to fight off the crush of domestic banality. Unaccustomed to spending money, Victoria turned out to be a pretty but uninteresting town for us: tightfisted edgy weekenders. There was much ado about the culture and architecture of the British Empire: high tea, steep roofed hotels. We were saved only by the street performances, the coffee shops, the spongy lawns and park benches which were good for heated discussions and sprawled out reading, and the lacerating wind on the ferry ride back home.