|
You, dear readers, may wonder where the electrons of HHCIB originate. Picture if you will a highrise slum. Set this picture between mountains, sea and a vast river delta. Add a liberal amount of air pollution, thousands of homosexuals (well represented on HHCIB staff) and a rabid city council. Now see the rain fall ... and fall.
Yes, it's Vancouver. The end of the railroad, a place which was founded on dreams of quick wealth: gold, lumber, salmon and the rich delta soil were there to exploit. The gold is now in Swiss bank vaults, the lumber is in Japanese homes, the salmon have all been digested, and the rich delta soil has a place called Richmond on it. Now we exploit the tourists, conventioneers and others who have fallen for promotional phrases such as: "World Class City!", "Pacific Rim Trade Centre" or "Super, Natural British Columbia!" (we really like exclamation points in this city). Many of our visitors also visit VictoriaLand, an extensive theme park located on a large nearby island. You may have seen the signs promoting it along Interstate 5..." Butchart Gardens, 275 miles".
If you visit our city, and many do, please take the following travel hints and orientation information as our gift to you.
First, let's look at getting around Vancouver. Visitors to our city often marvel at our transportation network. We do not have freeways. Nor do we favour directional signs; life should, after all, have some mystery. The alert driver may spy a sign from time to time, though it is likely not large enough to be read at a distance: much of the charm of travel in the city lies in the surprises one gets. Other signs are posted in handy trees, or are overgrown with moss (that rain again). Many of the city's traffic engineers are British. Their nostalgia for their homeland leads them to try to recreate the pace and byzantine traffic patterns of quaint mediaeval London. The transit system includes a toy railway (SkyTrain!) that was designed for Expo '86 (that event was how we became "World Class!"). Buses supply the rest of public transportation, but the glacial pace of traffic has moved buses toward the realm of sculpture. Oddly, there appears to be a group of well-trained people hired by B.C. Transit to ride the buses, act weirdly, talk very loudly, and harrass the paying passengers. Possibly this is a downsizing strategy of some kind.
So, now you know what we're about and how to get around. What about our culture? If you are from the United States, a country that has enshrined the right to litter in its constitution, you will first need to recover from the shock of the cleanliness of our streets and byways. If you litter in Canada, you are likely to find that one of the naive and helpful citizens has picked up your trash and is running to catch up with you, thinking you have dropped something valuable. The correct response in such a case is to graciously take back your garbage and exclaim: "Oh, I'm much obliged to you, may I offer you a small reward for your honesty?"
The Vancouverite does not like to complain unless it can be done anonymously: he or she will eat an overpriced restaurant meal of anthrax-infected hog guts served by the surliest of yokels rather than make a fuss, but is the first person to call an open-line talk show and slag every institution in the land.
It is considered bad form in Vancouver to smile at anyone unless you know them very well. Promiscuous smiling used to be allowed, even on the streets, but the many people who have moved here from Toronto (another Canadian city, and sorry, there's no HHCIB branch there) have modernized our country ways. To avoid seeming outlandish, do not show your teeth or attempt to escalate a casual conversation to a more intimate level. If you must smile, avoid using the eyes. In the same vein, showing sexual interest in someone, no matter how gorgeous you are, is likely to be taken as an insult. If you do manage to bed a Vancouverite, stick to tried and true techniques; innovation in sexual matters is apt to cause consternation or bewilderment.
And now, some activities and places recommended by HHCIB staffers; admittedly, our tastes are not for everyone.
The visitor may enjoy a tour of our modern architecture. Some Vancouver contractors favour a style of construction that is ideal for a climate like that of, say, Tucson: wood by-product (which has the same relationship to lumber as "cheese food" does to cheese), cardboard, staples, chickenwire, stucco or mud, and, for structural integrity, paint. Unfortunately, it rains here sometimes, so it is not uncommon to see a two-year old building being dismantled to track the rot. Occupants of such recently-acquired C$490,000 two bedroom apartments find this process alarming. Other contractors create amazing "monster houses". In this more substantial style, a mass of fake masonry on a tiny lot overshadows nearby dwellings and is surrounded by a strip of vegetation-free yard and, invariably, a wall of white wrought iron with brick pillars topped by plaster lions.
"Clothing-optional" Wreck Beach must not be missed. Situated below the cliffs on which is built the University of British Columbia, it features, democratically enough, a gay section (west) and a straight section (east). A bisexual zone is emerging, but the transgendered have not yet been assigned beachfront. Transvestites are not lobbying for space, since it is hard to cross-dress in the nude. The straight section features food, drugs, alcohol, volleyball and swimming; the gay section features posing, drugs, alcohol and public sex. It's a great place to curl up with a book, but may we suggest you avoid the fetal position.
How Hard Can It Be staff (we do not call them associates since we are not WalMart) may be found at fabled Stanley Park in all weathers, measuring the blacktop encroachment in preparation for their penetration of Parks Board meetings, or whispering words of encouragement to the trees at night.
A pleasant way to spend a day in Vancouver is to visit the UBC Museum of Anthropology and get a glimpse of what life was like before Captain Cook arrived. In those days the salmon were so plentiful that natives could hear them from miles away, coming to spawn. Then go look at the Flag Shop on West 4th Avenue, the Shell Station on Burrard or another purveyor of useless or ill-gotten products and meditate upon the fact that they are built over landfill that obliterated the area's salmon streams.
Thus we pass the days in the home of HHCIB. Perhaps we shall meet some of you, or at least see your pixels. Until then.....
|
