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After spending two days closeted up in the Vancouver, Westin Bayshore with four of the most brilliant women I have ever had the pleasure to meet, it finally hit me.  There I was, I had just cut through the center of Stanley Park making my way back to Georgia Street at Coal Harbour. I had a good sweat worked up and had just done about a 5 KM run along the Sea Wall, looking out over the city to one side and the beautiful BC Mountains on the other. The water sparkled as the sun made an appearance from beneath the dusky grey clouds that had been hovering protectively over the city, since my arrival, and there it was. That familiar pungent, skunky smell so familiar to the residents of British Columbia.

It was the last morning of an intensive two day brainstorming and planning session to work out the beginnings of our branding and marketing strategy. We were working in the Crown Suite, about the size of a small apartment, frantically capturing ideas on a flip chart and lap tops.

The hotel was old but stunning. The harbour, was beautiful beyond description. The food was exquisite, though we didn’t actually eat at the Bayshore, we did find some excellent fair at the Lift and Cardaro Restaurants. The work was creative, fast, and filled with enough brilliance to give me a couple “I’m not worthy moments.”

Like any travel journey, it wasn’t all perfect; my necklace went missing, which was incredibly upsetting as it is a family heirloom. In good-natured Canadian fashion the staff was very helpful and it was soon recovered.

There was a problem with the wine glasses in the bar being a little too soapy, and, of course, it rained most of the time we were there. But the morning of my run, that morning through the park, past the Aquarium that doesn’t have very many fish, past the miniature train, with the sun shining warmly on my skin, it was glorious. The air had that clean just after it rains smell and it felt so darn good to be outside instead of stuck inside of a too warm gym running the tread mill at Toledo.

But I was oblivious to all of that as I jogged through the paths that cut a clear center line through all of the green that is Stanley Park. I ran past the rowing club, a family of ducks, the main entrance of the park and out onto the running path that skirts Georgia Street. And then it hit me. It was impossible to miss, that pungent, skunky smell of someone smoking a joint of BC Bud.  And at that moment, I knew, beyond any doubt, I was home!