Boldly Go Solo

I travel solo with the assumption I’m on my own. But often, companions appear from nowhere. On my last night in Victoria, B.C., I went searching for a new take-out fish place I’d read and heard about. It’s called Red Fish Blue Fish and it is down at the Broughton Street Pier.

Couldn’t find it. I entered the Blackfish Cafe – right protein, wrong color – and asked. No wonder I couldn’t find it. It’s hidden off the side of a ramp that goes into a parking lot. Of the seaplane airport. You can walk right by it from above, thinking the only thing down there is the sea and a dock.

The restaurant is only about the size of a metal shipping container. Actually, it’s exactly the size of a metal shipping container. Because it IS a metal shipping container.

It’s the ultimate in recycling. Don’t throw out and melt down and recombine materials into something else. Just use objects as is. Which is
what Red Fish Blue Fish did. Impressive, in a mighty funky way.

I walked up to the "window" and ordered a smoked tuna tacone and a salmon tacone, with a side of "mushy edamame" – soybeans smashed a bit instead of whole – and coleslaw. (In Britain, I think "mushy peas" are a familiar dish, yes?)

The shipping container concept was highly amusing so while I waited for my food, I took photos from all sides. A man sitting on the pier with his wife, waiting for his fish and chips, asked me if I wanted a photo of me in front of the restaurant.

Sure, why not. I handed off the camera and posed. We
got to talking about the funny restaurant concept. And how we’d heard
about the brand spanking new place. And how hard it was to find, even
when you’re a few feet away.

And how we hadn’t
expected to have to sit on the pier to eat. (The place was about to close for the
evening and the chairs were put away.)

When our meals were ready, we sat down on the pier’s edge and dug in. And talked some more. About the
usual. Where we were from, what we had done in Victoria, etc. They live there and were out for a stroll and to try a new place.

We ate, and watched the
staff put two circle-shaped doors on the hobbit hut and close up. One of the
workers came over and told us how everything in the place was reused or
recycled. There supposedly is no garbage. The utensils are made of wood – that was
the second time I experienced that in the city – and the food is all composted
and returned to local farmers for their soil.

I hadn’t planned for dinner
companions. But there they were. A pleasant interlude. It happens all the time while traveling alone. I never did learn their
names…

Photos: By and of Ellen Perlman