If You Try Sometimes

Returning to Whistler, I checked into a different lodge. This one was set north of the bustling Village Centre, on a quieter street. At the front desk, a blackboard in the shape of a dog’s silhouette bore the names of pets staying at the hotel with their owners, and there was a jar of bone-shaped treats on the counter. There were even bowls of water available for dogs on the floor near the offering of fruit-infused water for human guests. I smiled, missing my buddy Nashville. I’d never stayed anywhere so dog friendly, and the hospitality was heartwarming.

It was almost dinnertime, and I was getting hungry. After a quick reorg of my belongings and a shower, I sat on the patio at a Spanish restaurant and enjoyed a delicious meal of fresh salmon with a chilled glass of smooth, rich chardonnay. I was feeling restless so although I was craving something sweet, I left without ordering dessert and walked the cobblestone streets through the village.

There was a serpentine line outside the ice cream parlor, but I wasn’t in a rush. Taking in the surroundings, on the hulking mountain framed by the side street I noticed a tiny flame, a campfire, burning close to the summit. I imagined the view from up there on this clear night, a canopy of teeming stars and this little village glowing below.

At the counter I asked for a giant waffle cone dipped in chocolate with rainbow sprinkles and had it loaded with peanut butter and chocolate, my favorite flavor combo. It was too much ice cream, but that was okay. Vacation, right?

I strolled towards Olympic Park, which was pumping with 80’s dance music. It was filled with people all of ages, many wearing neon green glow in the dark necklaces. I bopped in place on the plaza above, my tongue racing against melt in long sweeps around my ice cream. Joy!

The next morning I stopped at the front desk. I was hoping to leave my car in the garage while I visited the Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre after checking out, and part of me was braced for battle. I was ready to argue that I’d paid for “one day” of parking, which logically meant 24 hours, and if I had to vacate the garage at check out that was only 20 hours, blah blah blah. But the warmly professional woman at the front desk informed me I was welcome to leave my car in the garage until 3, when new guests would begin arriving.

Walking away, I had to laugh at myself. I’d worked up a low simmer of anticipatory indignation for absolutely no reason. How about next time I spare myself some negative energy by waiting to see what actually unfolds? Besides, if I did have to take my car out of the garage at check out, it wouldn’t have caused me any real trouble-- the Cultural Centre offers free parking. Four days on a mountain immersed in the wonder of nature and I still wanted to get my way, how and when I wanted it. Still human!

The Whistler wilderness trip for the dates I chose was advertised by the travel agency as a N’Quatqua First Nations cultural experience. The instant I met our tall, blonde, fair-skinned wranglers my hopes for that experience evaporated. When I asked our host Don about the N’quatqua experience, he sighed and shook his head. There’d been some miscommunication with the travel agency. By that point, though, the trip was already so amazing and fun that I didn’t feel deprived at all. Later I would email the travel company, and they would respond satisfactorily, but for now I could take in the First Nations experience available to me in Whistler.

The Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre is housed in a striking building with soaring ceilings shored by cedar beams and walls of glass so that the exhibits are integrated with nature like the First Nations are connected with the land. The Centre is staffed by members of the coastal Squamish Nation and the inland Lil’wat Nation. Luckily, I arrived just as a guided tour was beginning.

The tour experience at the SLCC was multimodal. First, one young male staffer welcomed us with traditional drumming and song. Then we were shown a documentary about the Squamish and Lil’wat communities. After that, we were led by a flamboyant (read: community theater!) middle-aged male staffer through the exhibits. With humor and dramatic flair, he deftly wove historical facts and lived cultural experience into a walking lecture which held our attention and gifted us with knowledge about totem poles and handcrafted canoes of various designs, traditional attire and cooking utensils, and local dialects of the St’at’imcets language.

Walking back to my car with a bagful of items from the gift shop, it struck me that if I’d been given the N’Quatqua cultural experience during the wilderness ride, I probably wouldn’t have visited the Cultural Centre and may not have learned as much. A friend once told me that when she asks the Universe for something and the answer seems to be “No”, that “No” means one of two things: either Not yet or There’s something better planned for you. Let me try to remember that.