Author: John Bollwitt

My sense of time that it takes to get to any destination in this city, especially by foot, is still way off. Be sure to add extra time to that in case you seem to be carrying a hot beverage. This became apparent to me yesterday when I thought I would wander over to Stanley Park to take some shots of the skyline at sunset. You truly, have not experience Vancouver until you see the city during a good sunset. It’s even better when you have clouds back to the east with the sun being uninterrupted to the west. Plus, I’m just a sucker for sunsets. It’s damn near breathtaking.

My plan was to meet up with Rebecca when she got off work, somewhere in between there and the park. When I started to move away from the waterfront, I got lost in a maze of high rise condos. It wasn’t dire straights, but it was scary in the way that these things surrounded you. When in doubt, head towards the water, but somewhere in there, I had to find Rebecca. It was a bit messy, but we linked up without harm to either of us. There’s really not a lot to fear in terms of your safety in Coal Harbor, unless that chick in the lululemon track suit on the cell phone and her tiny dog like animal on the end of a leash could be considered “dangerous.”

I do not like pigeons.

They are scavengers. Pigeons don’t set out to forage for food. The food is whatever they can find. Quite often, the food isn’t that of what a real bird likes to eat. If there is a morsle of what looks like bread that a human has dropped, they’re all over it. One time I had a family of pigeons nest on the balcony of the apartment I used to have in downtown Iowa City. The nest was impressed. Leaves, twigs, and pieces of garbage they gathered up to make a home only to pop out three more. The nest gave way to piles of bird droppings that coated the entire area that once was there. Then the smell. And then, my roommates didn’t want to touch the mess, so I took charged and cleaned it all up.

I hate pigeons.

Now I’m surrounded by seagulls. They’re much like pigeons, but worse. For the most part, they keep to themselves. This leads me to believe that they are smarter than pigeons, but there could be other explanations. Perhaps their size leads them to be a little slower, thus being more accessible for anyone wanting to cause harm to a slow moving victim. So perhaps it’s a conditioned response to steer clear. However, running by the Lost Lagoon only finds some of them camped out in the middle of the pathway, barely noticing you go by, but that’s easy to do when you are flanked by canadian geese that have a taste for blood if you’re not too careful.

Large cities are like a neuroscience experiment. There are so many parts and pieces that exist for a particular reason and all have a hand in the make up of a major, metropolitan area. This area has this and is made up of these types of people and that’s where this type of thing happens. Over there you have people who do this, live this way, and there are typical and untypical things that happen for reasons no one can explain. Here you have a hub where everything that happens must be coordinated and approved. Here is the work center, and over here is the play center. And there’s the bad part… Don’t go there.

In the places I’ve explored in life, some of these parts of town are clear as day. They start and end with very visible borders and markers. Sometimes it’s an area. Other times, it’s a street or set of city blocks. No matter where you go, you find these things. Borders within borders within borders and so on. The social breakdown of this idea never ceases to amaze me. One portion of Hastings Street has an amusement park, another has one of the highest drug problems in the lower mainland, and another portion has one of the most expensive, upper class neighborhoods in the city with the financial district next door. It’s socially, psychologically nuts.

There are moments where I flat out forget about the changes that occur when you go to a different country. Take my consumption of whiskey for example. Jack Daniels is no longer a domestic product. Up here, this is an imported liqour. My days in Iowa City always found Crown Royal to be more of a treat and a pricey pick for enjoyment. Now all of that is backwards. What was once domestic is an import. What was once a tasty import is locally made in this country. It’s such a great deal, but a painful realization of how silly I can be. No matter how much you try, it’s difficult to shake off that ignorance.

In due time, it will all be more and more apparent. The differences creep up everyday, but the most important thing I keep in mind is that this is simply how it is up here. You can’t go around saying “that’s stupid” or believe that it should be the “american way.” Of course, you can’t help but make a comparison. Everyday I find myself fascinated with something new that I’ve learned.

I made my way around the entire Sea Wall today. I don’t know what came over me, but instead of turning into the park where I normally would, I just kept going. It was a typical, rainy day, but a perfect day to go for it. It’s nearly nine kilometers from where I started and ended my route along the sea water. The easiest thing to remember is that I used to run four miles on average back home. A kilometer is pretty easy.

The simplicity of it all came from everything around me. The water starts out so dark, but the further out into the inlet that you get, the greener the water around you gets. True sea water. You can’t tell if you’re getting wet from the rain or the water bouncing up against the wall. Every half kilometer, there are markers to tell you how far you’ve gone. Each one that goes by just made the whole thing that much easier.

It’s just that last kilometer up a nice gentle slope where I started to regret my decision. The dreaded Pendrell. The homestretch. The street that sets my lungs on fire. It’s a good pain. I just keep telling myself that the whole way to the top.

For just once, I would like to see a “hip hop” artist that can have a music career without flashing a lot of “bling” or “pimp-ass [insert item of choice here]”. I don’t care if it’s all apart of the so called lifestyle, but why the need to show a shot of some rapper flashing a wad of cash to the camera? The mandatory shot of the tripped out SUV’s. Women in clothes either too tight or too tiny. I realize that I sound old or like a prude, but that’s not what I’m getting at.

It’s almost as if there is just this set formula of a hip hop video that has subtle changes to allow for some sense of “creative flare” and “uniqueness.” It just all seems to be one of the same. Just add or subtract various and extravagant elements, mix and match exotic locations, blue screen anywhere else you can’t be, designer brand clothes, what can’t be done with designer brand clothes can be compensated in expensive accessories, a posse, hand gestures toward the camera, and a sense that you are the richest and greatest entertainer in the business.

Why can’t a good hip hop artist just put this aside and consider the music? Sure, it’s all about making money and raking in a big fat check, but I’d just like to see it for once. A rapper who rises to the top without giving into this formulaic dribble. Truly there is a part of me that likes hip hop just like I used to like Oasis back in the day. The music is pretty alright until you get to know about the people who make it.

There really is no comparison for Vancouver. Minus the fact that there is little in the way of baseball, it exists in its own right. More so, I keep falling back on the thought of wanting to venture my way out to New York and the adventure that would have been. Then it always comes back to how vastly different the two places are with similarities as well. There is always so much to see and do, but people in Vancouver seem to make more of an effort to take that time to breathe and relax. Maybe it’s the ocean being so close. Maybe it’s the fact that you just have to drive about an hour to find some wilderness, great camping sites, or some great skiing. It’s just more humble here. People are not concerned about living in Vancouver as much as there are about living everyday life.

At the same time, there seems to be more people actually from here then you find in New York. It was always impressive to feel like people there thought I was from the city, but Vancouver is a different story. I’m fairly sure that my “accent” give me away. That subtle, midwestern hint to the way that I speak, but not as bad as some other the other natives back home. I have had a run-in with a fellow ex-pat. Moira was from Michigan and moved here as a young child. It was an instant friendship and yet another friendly welcome to this country with a carefully evaded question about my opinion of George W. Bush, a less than popular topic of conversation here.

People here are probably more friendly compared to the east coast lifestyle I once imagined. The cabbies still drive like bats out of hell.

The weekend was packed with lots of things to do with almost not enough of doing nothing much at all. The Matthew Good show over at the Commodore on Friday night was quite the experience. The guy is, fair to say, huge in Canada. You must understand that this country exists more separately from the states than many tend to imagine. In my high school days, I become immersed in finding out what was going on in the Canadian mainstream and discovered a wealth of things that were vaguely mentioned yet alone played in the U.S. Matt Good is one of those people.

One of many.

I recall when KRUI got in Beautiful Midnight from his original Matthew Good Band project and I took it to review without knowing anything about the guy. Listening to the disc, I was impressed and liked what I heard. I gave it a glowing review, tossed it towards our draconian music director at the time, and never saw it again. Sadly, I saw a lot of artists, Canadian and the like, get the same treatment from that guy. The same guy who would take pleasure in throwing anything punk and ska related against the cement basement walls like frisbees only to chuckle at the way they shattered.

The show Friday really put into perspective the difference of the two industries; the one I’ve been well immersed in and the only I’ve watch from the other side of the border. I like Good. The people at the show love his music. And there’s more to him than just being a rock and roll star up here. He has a lot to say about the problems in the world. A rock star using his social status to help bring world issues into the limelight, and it’s hardly an act. It’s just the things that are close to his heart. You have to respect that.

The local mountains appeared the other day and they had white caps to them. It was breath taking. For a brief moment, I felt like a little kid waking up on christmas morning. I had to tell someone and it made me a little giddy. There’s just this line that the snow stops and the mountains continue until they meet the sea water below. It was just completely fascinating.

I visited my Uncle Jesse out in California when I was twelve. For just over a week we were out there seeing the sights and enjoying the hospitality. It’s the greater L.A. area. What isn’t there to do? The one thing my great uncle kept telling me was something about how it was a shame that we couldn’t see the mountains off in the distance. The smog was really blocking their view. I was pretty bummed as I had never seen such sights. But on that last day we were there, a wind blew in from the ocean and cleaned up the sky. There they were. So close that it’s hard to believe we couldn’t see them before, the smog was that thick.

Yes, they do have smog here. Thank god it is as bad as that. Being surrounded by the mountains is almost comforting. It’s like a big pair of arms that you look for in the morning.

When I was standing in line to fly to Vancouver, a little chinese couple stood behind me. I’m not sure how these things happen, but it never fails that I end up getting myself into the craziest conversations with people in these types of situations. At first, the little woman asked me if you can take three bags onto the plane, and I replied that one was for carry-on. A few minutes pass and the conversation sparks up. Lots of things to take. Always such a hassle to get your luggage through. Then the inevitable question: where are you going?

“Oh Vancouver is beautiful. We just love it there. You must go to chinatown.” We talked about how great the city was, but when I told them I was moving there, the conversation sparked even more. They had family there, but had not visited in quite a long time. They were on their way for some vacation back in Hong Kong. And so the conversation turned from Vancouver to them convincing me that I must visit China.

“You would love it there.” The weather is much like it is here, the people are so nice, I would be very much welcomed by the locals, there is so much to see, and so on. Within the time span of about twenty minutes, I had these great and wonderful new friends all while standing in line. We talked and laughed all while people around us stood in line saying nothing, but I caught a few smirks from people listening to us as we conversed.

I went down one concourse, them another. With that, my new best friends were gone. “Good luck in Vancouver!”