As you can imagine the transition from sweaty, smoggy days in Vietnam to frozen toes and dribbling nose in Vancouver was a shocking one!
A 12 hour flight with Oasis airlines (who I highly recommend) from Hong Kong propelled me into a foot of snow and howling winds at Vancouver International airport. Finding my accommodation was easy, however relaxing in the east side of the city wasn’t. It seemed that all the residents at the hostel were 40 year old bachelors that reeked of ciggies and dirty socks. The place advertised that it had a fully equipped kitchen however all reception could offer me was plastic cutlery, paper plates and a broken can opener that I had to share with the washed out men lurking in the kitchen.
I discovered that I was in Crack-town as my jetlag deprived me of night time slumber and left me staring out onto Main Street at the drug deals and outbreaks of violence. Making my way to downtown was somewhat not what I expected either. I guess that with a city with such a great reputation I didn’t think that homeless pan-handlers would be positioned every 5 meters. The situation in Vancouver is actually a growing concern, not only for the upcoming 2010 winter Olympics which is a little superficial, but because it is pretty much the only city in Canada that isn’t lethally cold in the winter for the homeless so the they all flock here from all over the nation.
Not only is it the bums, but the amount of drug deals going on seems to be as frequent occurrence as the panhandlers. If you don’t literally see cash being traded for an “illegal handshake” then you definitely hear about it in the conversations around you as you walk.
Mentioning all this makes Vancouver sound like a horrible, dangerous city but in fact it is one of the friendliest cities I have been to. Everyone – whether it be the bums or the lady at the bank, gives you a smile or a “have a nice day” or will go out of their way to help you out. The general kindness of the place does take an edge off the dodgyness I guess. As does the general beauty.
Nick arrived 3 days after me which was so nice after not having him around for 2 months and created a sense of safety for me in my surroundings.
After 3 more nights of crack whores and screeching car tyres we made a move to a new hostel on Granville Street in downtown. Our friend Nick (from Wanaka days) and Dave (from Balclutha) are living the sweet life up in Whistler ski resort so they came to the city to hang out and eat burritos.
That night we wandered down to a bar just on the edge of the dodgy side of town and drank cheap pints in the company of multi pierced patrons and deafening local metal music. It was actually a great night out and we ended up far more trollied than we intended to be!
After spending a week in the hostel and paying through the nose we decided to explore other options. We ventured down East Hastings Street, initially to check out a reasonably priced lodge, but also to see just how infamous this area was for drugs and prostitution. We were given a good show. Not one person looked unaffected by some kind of substance. Most were stumbling down the street or down the stairs. Some leant against shop fronts smoking crack or tagging the walls. Glancing across the road it looked like some kind of screwed up Sunday market. Cash and baggies were being exchanged like fruit and veggies by at least 50 people. Prostitutes were barely clothed and black eyed screaming after their pimp boyfriends. The whole site was pretty horrific but unusually still safe.
Deciding that there was no way in hell we were going to spend a night in the area we answered an advert for a room back in downtown. The apartment was on the 27th floor of a stylish building off just off Granville St. The $30 per night rate as opposed to the $70 at the hostel was welcoming to the pocket. The dude residing in the apartment greeted us in the foyer and took us up. He was an oddball for sure. He looked like Christopher Walken the actor and had much the same mannerism, except he was far more emaciated and most of the time, a mute. The house was just as you would expect for a character like this. A cloud of smoke hovered in the lounge room, and there seemed to be strange and interesting things lying around everywhere, including a couch surfer. Our room hummed of cigarettes and greasy hair and the bed bared well worn sheets. Despite all this, the view of the city from the window was breath taking so we reluctantly laid our money down. Over the 4 days the guys gradually came out of their shells and ended up being more than happy to give us information on how to get around the city.
We took the seabus to North Vancouver planning to check out the Capilano suspension bridge, however there was a $26 admission fee so deciding to leave that one for when we had an income, visited the Lyn Valley one instead. The waterfalls it spread above were impressive cascades of slamming icy water and the surrounding forests were cool wet clusters of fragrant Cedar trees. It felt good to have a dose of nature, even though the sky was dark and our fingers were numb.
Spending endless days of job hunting for laboratory work we made the decision to start making a plan to head to Whistler in the new year to live our dream of awesome snow and bears outside our window. We were fortunate enough to secure a lease for a 2 bedroom basement suite just out of the Whistler village in Creekside with our friend Dave (see above). We had to go to Granville Island to do the paperwork so hopped on a bath tub sized ferry to meet our land lord to be. The island is not really an island, but a haven of gourmet produce and cuisine. From swiss cheeses to whole cured pig legs, local preserves and live ocean fare, this place made your mouth drop open and begin to salivate. We signed the documents, ate fresh cod and purchased some French cave aged gureyer before heading back to the next lot of temporary accommodation, which is where we are now.
For the next 3 weeks we will be house sitting for a woman while she is in Montreal for the silly season. The apartment is a warm, beautifully decorated home which, again, comes with a couch surfer. This one is much younger though, happens to be from Adelaide and loves to get trollied, much like us. On meeting him a few days back we decided to tag along to the local pub with him and his South African sidekick and get happily shit faced. First we went to an Irish bar for Canadian brewed ales, then on to a place called El Furniture Warehouse. This place has an unlimited supply of fresh roasted peanuts in the shell which proves perfect for munching as well as firing at drunken patrons. We met a respectable looking couple who joined us to drink our beer, order a round of Jagameister for the table, have a laugh, then proceed to boost from the premises leaving the bill for us. Pricks. The barmaid’s boyfriend turned out to be a great guy though and put the drinks on his credit card. How good was that!
From here, we staggered down the street and fell into the company of two prostitutes who turned phsychotic and spat on Nick when he tried to capture them on camera!
Wandering back to our house we were bombarded with bums performing card tricks, rubber band magic and jokes all hungry for a buck. This city is certainly not short of strange and wonderful characters.
Canadian festivities!
It was on Christmas day that it fully hit me that I was in the northern hemisphere. Seeing as Nick and I had no family or friends around or able to spend the day with us, we decided to take advantage of the ski field only 1 hour by public transport and have a white Christmas!
We arose early, first to the disappointment that Santa hadn’t received our change of address card, then to excitement as we pulled on our thermals and headed out the door.
The walk to the train station was an amusing one, just to be wandering around the city next to high rises and office buildings in snowboarding boots was hilarious.
From the train we hopped on the seabus. Yes, a bus that goes across the bay from the city and drops you off at the foot of the mountains. From the seabus it was a winding ride upward through the Cedar and Pine trees to the gondola. 7 breathtaking minutes later we were standing on a base of 276cm, snowflakes sticking to our eyelashes while we strapped in for our first run on Grouse Mountain.
It was my first taste of real snow. Dry and powdery, like it is supposed to be, like what Canada is famous for. It was wonderful to be on terrain below the tree line. Ducking and weaving between big ghostly figures, branches stretched out and heavy with snow. We stayed on the mountain until the lights illuminated the valley and our legs turned to jelly.
Arriving home tired but happy, we put the pork roast on and beer in hand, made a skype call to our friends Ry and Lara to wish them merry times in the US of A.
After a hot bath to soothe the aches, and chocolate self saucing pudding to fill the belly, bed was most welcoming.
Boxing Day was beautiful and shiny so we dusted off the mountain bikes on the balcony and pedaled toward the sea wall, a 9.5 km trail that winds around the perimeter of Stanley Park. Beginning at Coal Harbour we admired the awesome views of the sea and mountain vistas and stopped at the tribal totem pole installation.
Looking out in the distance were giant golden mounds of sulphur and other minerals that West Canada exports, as well as huge, red, giraffe-like structures standing gracefully in the ocean - shipping container cranes.
We passed beneath the massive Lion’s Gate Bridge which connects downtown with North Vancouver, the ski fields and beyond. Our journey came to an end at English Bay where we watched the sun dip into the sea then dinked the chill all the way home.
For people that had made no plans for New Years Eve celebrations we had one of the most eventful and humorous nights ever! Our evening began with quiet drinks with our couch surfer turned buddy and his friends at our pad. 9pm rolled around and the boys left us to move on to an overpriced VIP (whatever!) nightclub for the evening. Nick and I continued to have a few more bevies then began to get bored, and thought it would be a great idea to see what was going on in our apartment building. We ventured down the hallway putting ears to doors listening for any signs of a party. First up we knocked on the door of a death metal enthusiast who, after several minutes nervously answered the door splattered in raspberry sauce (?!) and informed us he was celebrating alone with his girlfriend and no we couldn’t come in and enjoy a beer with him.
The next attempt was more successful as we were welcomed into an apartment full of partying Poles (as in Polish peoples).
A drink or 3 and we had even more confidence in finding social opportunities within the building. A 2 second discussion with the balcony goers below resulted in us dancing around to Ukranian music and dipping bread into the most amazing eggplant dip ever followed by more dancing and then Romanian cream puffs.
11.30pm rolled around so we thought it best to try and get in touch with our friend Tracy, which we later found out couldn’t tell us where the party was because she was too trollied and had fallen off her bar stool. Not to be disheartened! As the clock struck 12 the whole of Granville Street burst into a frenzy of drums and disco dancing and we had the sudden urge to be part of it!
For 5 hours we got down to the beat of the street. We became immersed in the colours and craziness and characters of Vancouver city. There was rhythmic bongo drumming,
clacking, limbo, Colombians, Scottish kilts,
police car lay-backs,
knickknacks and paddywhacks!
We met Juzzy who appears in all our photos as the mysterious red hooded dude. He was oodles of fun on NYE and has been dishing out the good times ever since.
Getting back to the apartment was a struggle as beer tends to make you disorientated and Nick fell asleep in the elevator. The next day was hell but was worth the nausea!
So thats it. My story so far. And now time to write about what its like to be neck deep in beautiful Whistler snow as I welcome 2008.....
