Our hotel was the quaintest little ancient hotel we had ever seen, with a miniature kitchen, rounded ceiling edges, and wonderfully hideous orange chairs. We read a sign on the kitchen door that read: "We have recently added the convenience of coffee makers in the rooms. However, due to a shortage of electricity in the building, we ask that you not use the outlet for the coffee maker and the outlet on the stove at the same time as the fuse for the fridge will blow. Thank-you, and enjoy your stay." We wondered what might happen if we sat on the bed and talked at the same time. Maybe we would lose the air pressure in the room.
Downtown Victoria was home to our every whim and spontaneous feeling. Well, almost every one. Perhaps if we were not conscientious moral girls, it would have been home to every single one. We contended ourselves with boutiques, bookstores, coffee shops, art galleries, little pastry shop, long walks on the harbor, lounging about on the great lawn in front of the parliament building, and finding likely victims to take our pictures. We rationalized that the safest people to do this would be old people and parents with little kids. If the old person decided to take off with our camera, we could surely outrun them, and the parent wouldn't be likely to take our camera and leave their little kid.
The most wonderful part about spending the weekend with my sister is how much she make me laugh...constantly. The majority of looks we got from people (besides guys who were checking us out) was when we were laughing, even though it was most likely at nothing at all. I'm sure they all wished they knew us, so that they could laugh too. People don't laugh nearly as much as they should.