Thursday, February 12, 2009

suddenly and unexpectedly in vancouver.


For reasons I’d rather not get into on the cold and heartless information super highway, I am in Vancouver for a largely undetermined amount of time.

Not only am I in Vancouver, but I’m living in Yaletown, temporarily.

I had not heard of Yaletown before, or if I had, I blissfully ignored it. Turns out it is what is growing out of what was, to my 13 year old self, the expo 86 site.

I barely remember anything from that time, except that my hypochondriac Nana had ‘forgotten’ to bring her handicap sign thereby pissing of my father who had counted on good parking for the motorhome. In his mind, that was the only advantage to having the old boot along. (My dad used to like to call her ‘old boot’. They did not get along in a manner that would, had it been in 30 minute increments and only once a week, made for a great sitcom. Sadly, it was a long trip from Edmonton to the 1986 Vancouver and families don’t function on a 30 minute, once a week timeline.)

My dad, ever the resourceful bush pilot did something amazing that you rarely see these days; he improvised. Suddenly a ruler, a yoghurt lid and a red marker was turned into a fresh, and convincing, forgery of a handicap sign.

Nana had a nasty habit of conveniently forgetting massively important items leaving her care givers in the lurch and causing a great deal of drama. My Nana loved the drama.

As a result, I abhor drama in my personal life. For me, it should be in movies only. However, no matter how you avoid it, tragedy will come to us all in some form. As I alluded to, I am currently getting through some of that sort of drama and looking forward to when it becomes a dramedy (comedy = tragedy + time, which becomes a dramedy when made into a touching film with laughs that can still qualify for an oscar). In this case, it is not likely to happen within my lifetime.

Yaletown is not expo 86 though. It is an area lacking soul. (I can't remember if Expo 86 had any soul either. It is only a blur of a memory now.) According to a close friend all of Vancouver not only lacks soul, but also genitals. I have not explored enough to accept this fully. However, I will agree that Yaletown lacks genitals. It seems very safe… like a Ken doll. It has many dogs that are taken care of not as dogs, but as children. And that means store fronts dedicated to doggy clothing, doggy grooming, doggy hospitals which I imagine also has doggy pediatricians for the puppies. There is a dog park or two, closely monitored to prevent dogs from ‘escaping’ into leash only areas.

I love dogs. But I know dogs enjoy being dogs and do not enjoy wearing raincoats. I can see it in their eyes. These are not the sort of dog that still have any wolf genetics left in them. How can a dog show any aggression after a 2 hour massage and reiki treatment? They look too relaxed to even sniff a butt or two.


There are also many cafés. That should appeal to me, but many are starbucks. Starbucks is the devil and has raped coffee. I will go to starbucks when I’m about to fly only because they are always in airports and do a moderately better job than Tim Horton’s. I know I’m pissing a lot of people off here, but coffee making is an art form, not something that can be automated and still provide the same level of enjoyment. As with anything artistic, it requires love, care and ritual. Ritual cannot be had where packaged world music is on sale.

Still, I needs me my coffee.

What is good about Yaletown? Well, some things. First off, there is a lovely path and when it rains, the yuppies stay inside and I can walk along by myself watching the rain drops on False Creek. The other night I was able to sneak up on a blue heron. She took off pretty quick when I finally made a noise. And, of course, there is the smell of the ocean.


I have to accept that yuppies are people too. They just have different priorities. I have met a pair of yuppies that I quite like. One even called me an interesting person, which I take as a compliment. I have always strived to be interesting, and this means I’m on the right path for that. I may not be rich, but I’m interesting to the rich.

Now if they could only pay my rent, I’ll gladly live somewhere else and visit Yaletown to drink their decidedly better wine than mine.

4 comments:

french panic said...

I love your idea of making yourself interesting to the rich. I would like to join you in this quest to find a patron.

I would like to drink $200 wine on a semi-regular basis, and I don't mind being entertaining in order to do that. I don't even mind if people describe me as 'different' - though I do prefer the label 'interesting'.

nice pictures you got there, mister.

me_mory said...

yaletown sounds like kitsilano beach with a little less scenery. true?

Pamplemousse said...

I prefer Kits beach. Last time I was there, there was more diversity, but that was summer. Vancouver types seem to think they too have the coldest city in Canada. I've never understood this need for Canadians to believe that their city has the most miserable weather. 'Yes, it's plus 5 out, but it is a wet cold.' say my parents, forgetting the -55 they survived in the far north...

Seems we all have selective memories when it comes to weather. Which is why I have decided to rarely comment on weather. It is what it is, and there is nothing to done to change it.

I'm turning this comment into a post... ahhhh.

mobyletta said...

At least it concerns meteorological wisdom, which demands a comment-post most days.