Because a key part of ABCD is taking an inventory of the assets in your community, I thought I might start a new series highlighting some of the assets in mine. Granted, I could shout from the rooftops how much I love my community, but I’ll keep it on the down-low (or at least the mid-range) for the sake of avoiding the my-community-is-better-than-yours gloat (which is bound to happen anyway, but I don’t want it to be so obvious).
Today was a good day, filled with all the strange and unexpected happenings that make Vancouver’s West End the place I most wanted to live when that nesting instinct kicked in. After 36 years and at least as many residences, it struck me as an active, diverse, soulful community within an urban setting – not the easiest find.
I’ve now been here three years, paying a scandalous rent to an unconscionable bandit landlord who continues to raise it every year regardless of the economy or the fact that there’s no heat or hot water for weeks at a time or there are sometimes workers walking in to my apartment unannounced or it takes 6 months to get anything repaired.
Why?
Well allow me to assault you with another run-on sentence, it’s just that good: Neighbours that I know, the Celebration of Light and Davie Day, the West Valley Market and the Nelson Street Dog Park and Stepho’s, the community garden with a yarn bombed fence, Pride, did I mention Stepho’s, and the seawall, the beach and Stanley Park and all the beautiful men who are not interested in me in the least – and it’s all steps from my door. Now that’s a community!
The day started well
In the morning I walk my dogs. Today I was stopped by a woman who apparently watches us walk every day from her balcony. She wanted to tell me what good dogs they are. Well thank you, slightly-unusual-neighbour, I appreciate that. On my way home my little pup Sophie (who at 14 is maybe not as much of a pup as I wish she were) got sick, and a guy in the early stages of shooting up gave me napkins to clean her little face, and offered clucks of sympathy for her uncomfortable situation. Well thank you, almost-high guy, I appreciate that too.
The afternoon was one part monty python
As I’m working I hear what I think is the sound of a marauding gang of flamenco dancers walking up Bute Street which, considering the neighbourhood, wouldn’t be unusual in and of itself, but upon closer investigation it turned out to be three female RCMP officers on horseback. Three! They were one Mr. Ed and a hi-ho Silver away from a Musical Ride, for pete’s sake…
But this evening took the cake
My bedroom faces onto the alley which makes for great acoustics that bounce off of the highrises in the immediate area, and it has provided some great concerts over the years. I’ve been treated to opera, blues, the collective yelps of “YES!” and “NOOOO!!” during playoff season, and the homeless guy who likes to serenade with ”If you’ve got the money honey, I’ve got the time”
Tonight, however, I was subjected to the inevitable squawk of some dear soul learning scales on a clarinet. Or, so I thought. Within about 10 minutes it had turned in to a full concert of wind instruments – and they were good!
I took the dogs to investigate.
They had papered Hydro poles, which was thoughtful. Turned out it was part of the Vancouver Concert Band.
…and they played everything from classical to modern jazz to Barry Manilow (oh yes, you heard me…)
And that, my friends, is what I call a good day in the West End.
