Sketches

[Mapping out Vancouver]

2010AD

I remember taking the Number 19 during my college days. The bus is notorious for its rude drivers, pickpockets and incessant chatter. The bus receives its passengers in the most automated manner: Exhale, kneel down, beep beep beep, back up and off again. Yet the thing would breathe life sometimes; the trolley pole would set off sparks, bounce like an elastic band, impelling a rather disgruntled driver to take out his weathered thick gloves leaving a bus full of impatient passengers behind.

The bus meanders down Kingsway, past Rona Home Centre, past Famous Foods, past Fraser Street until it finally merges with Broadway...a major artery that cuts across the city of Vancouver. Stepping down, I would find myself in the intersection between East and West. To my right is Our Town -a homey-pseudo-hipsterish coffee place that serves decent Americano. To my left is Thai Son, a tolerable Pho place which would burn down years from now on an unforgettable night of fire frenzy - five trucks lined up gushing water through the roof while curious residents gather around to watch the building ablaze.

I have always considered this city as a unified fragmented universe. Somewhat like a Ten Thousand Village Store inside a city of glass. To the South, between 50th and Main, you have little India -the colourful saris, exotic mannequins and goods evoke a foreign air around the area. Walk East a few blocks (well, 15 blocks to be exact), you find yourself in Victoria Drive -a mini China town with Mandarin-speaking walk in clinics, herbal stores, cha chaan teng and scrumptious Asian bakeries. Chong Lee is around the corner with discount vegetables and fruits on Wednesday nights. Travel north and you will hit Kingsway again.

As you travel along Kingsway and merge into Main Street, you will see that the urban landscape morphs into a greyer area. Driving past the Pacific Centre Mall, past Keefer St, past East Pender and into East Hastings, you will find people pushing their carts with empty bottles and their belongings, asking for cigarettes or spare change. This area, better known as Downtown East Side, is noted for its high incident of drug use, violence and crime.

Turn left and you will eventually reach Downtown Vancouver. High-end stores along Robson present a stark contrast to the grim alleys surrounding East hastings paved with shattered glass and needles. Women cladded on Lululemon power walk on Saturday mornings while busily texting on one hand and holding a Grande Caramel Macchiato on the other. The smell of molten caramel and rocky mountain apples waft through the air. Street musicians play classical pieces with their hungry dogs staring apathetically at passer-bys.

The number 19 eventually discharge into Stanley Park -a lush forest of pines, chubby squirrels and totem poles. I never quite understood how a city could be so diverse and unique at the same time. Yet the city stands quite confined in its own realm, unaffected by the outside world, still and sterile. There was hardly any change during the years I was there, except for the construction of the Canada line and the burning down of Taco del Mar in West Broadway. Even though I know Vancouver's topography like the palm of my hand, and have mentally mapped out all its sights, sounds, scents and vibes into random compartments of my brain, I never understood the residents of the city. People are nice and very polite, but quite shy. Conversations waver around superfluous small talk -the weather, the Canucks, coffee, shopping deals and so on. People tend to be a little bit self-conscious and overly cautious not to offend or step into somebody's toes. Yet I never fathomed why the city erupted into rampant destruction and mayhem after losing the Stanley Cup. It was only a Hockey Game, after all.