We found somewhere to live so quickly that we had to wait almost a month before our personal effects arrived and we could move in. So I flew up to Vancouver to spend a bit of time with Mum and Dad. And they took me to Capilano.
The Capilano Suspension Bridge, in all its verdant redwood wilderness, is actually only 15 minutes from Downtown Vancouver. And it is a terrible thing.
The Capilano Suspension bridge is a terribly wobbly bridge. Being a terribly wobbly bridge has been its claim to fame since 1889. The bridge is terribly wobbly and the gorge below is terribly deep and there is always some sadistic monster child in the middle bouncing up and down to make it swing and tip from side to side until everybody on it is in terrible danger of falling off. And down. And further down until there isn't any more down and you get hurt.
Mr Tabubil swears black and blue in engineering parlance that the thing can't tip over or snap and spill me off. But I prefer hearing all about shear ratios and steel strength coefficients on solid ground where everything is hypothetical.
But that bridge is the only way across, so I go. Swearing under my breath all the way across. By way of prayer.
In the redwood forest on the other side, the trees are vast and out-scale trees and a tree-top walk runs a ten meters above the ground at the level of their knees.
The leaves are huge because the trees are huge. They go all the way up to the sky and when dusk comes (if you are still on the far side) the stars get hung in their upper branches.
It's wonderful in those trees. But to get home you have to go back across the wobbly bridge again.
There may be tears.