An unexpected thing happened to me tonight. Leaving straight from work after a long week, I biked straight to see E perform in a fire show at Illuminaires in Trout Lake. This is a lantern festival held every summer by Public Dreams in Vancouver’s east side. The surrounding streets are shut to vehicular traffic and Trout Lake is transformed into a magical fantastical setting. People in costumes; lanterns and props everywhere. There are kids and families, witches and wizards. Lights suspend like poofy clouds in mid-air. People are happy and excited at all the side shows. It’s like being in a Quidditch World Cup Match, minus those Death Eaters. Although I did see one masked skull in a dark robe, but I think he might just be the Grim Reaper.
After the show, I biked home through the crowds. I knew that the fireworks were going on at English Bay in the West End, what I didn’t anticipate was that right on the bike route halfway home, on Woodland between North Grandview and 7th Avenue, people (including photographers with tripods) were gathered to see the fireworks above the gleaming Vancouver skyline. I braked, crossed the road, and huddled with them high up on the bridge. Below us, an empty Skytrain line stretched to Vancouver Community College. Above me to my right, another Skytrain line went east, with trains zipping by every 2 minutes. Red and green blew up in the sky above downtown Vancouver, flickers of golden sparks. Waterfalls of shiny mists. The trains kept going past, small planes kept circling the sky, watching from above. It was surreal and stunningly peaceful.
People have always asked me, aren’t you afraid biking home at night? Isn’t it unsafe where you live? They say, gee, east side of Vancouver, I’m not sure I want to raise my kids there.
Here’s the thing, this is my hood. I walk like I know I am safe. My bike is my sidekick. I see homeless people near my streets and I see people from my community giving them blankets and food. My backyard is a community park. My exercise room is the gym at my community centre. There are car-free days on the main thoroughfare on selective Sundays. There are festivals in the park two blocks from where I live. So it’s my hood. Homeless people aren’t trying to hurt me, they are too busy trying to survive.
Nights like these are a reminder of why I continue to live in Vancouver even though I am a prairie girl at heart. Sure, I miss big sky country and real seasons. I miss the dry crunch of fall leaves, the pristine white of winter, but you couldn’t possible get a kick-ass lantern festival and the liveliest corporate-sponsored fireworks show on the same night anywhere else. When the Gay Pride Parade is happening, so is the Japanese Powell Street Festival. People share.
A few years ago, I was offered a job with almighty Charles Schwab in San Francisco. It was a really really good six figure salary. Considering that the Canadian dollar was only worth 60 cents to the greenback at the time, you can imagine the worth in loonies. I was 27 years old, I could’ve retired at 30. As fate would have it, I turned down the job, choosing instead to stay in Vancouver for love and for life. Less than a year later, the internet bubble burst and many in hi-tech lost their jobs, including Canadian contractors at Charles Schwab. Due to that choice, I wasn’t affected. I continued working here and a few more years later, finally found the guts to quit hi-tech. The rest as they say, is history.
Today, I live in a small 1-bedroom apartment with my best chum, her dog and my cat. We live small in more ways than one. And I am enjoying this city as I’ve never expected. My hood is my friend. Speaking of small, at least we have that in common with San Franciscan housing!
