… And All the In-betweens

23 October 2025 – I had a much longer title in mind. To wit: “Above/Below/In Front/Behind/Then/Now/Here/There… and All the In-betweens.” Aren’t you glad I restrained myself?

That verbal onslaught is prompted by yet another walk along the north shore of False Creek, from foot of Davie east to Main. More specifically, prompted by this:

I only now, after all these years, bother to learn that this artsy structure has a name. It is one of the two shelters + glass panels that comprise Lookout (Dikeakos + Best, 1999), which traces the natural & industrial history of the area and is an early contribution to the public art we enjoy on both sides of the water.

You can spread the image, read the keywords panel by panel — or just read this paragraph! L to R: “box cars, flat cars, tank cars” / “dining cars, sleeping cars” / “… the yard master makes a train…” / [then a panel written to be read from the other side] / “all built and all rebuilt” / “gone and a thousand things leave, not a trace” / “lumber co yards, islets of gravel.”

I climb up to the street, take a closer look at the inscribed and silhouette steel uprights, also part of the story.

Natural + industrial history indeed, from “mudflats” upper left to “red caboose” lower right.

Then I check the panel meant to be read from this, the street, side:

This one you can read for yourselves. And, given all these prompts, you can also take a stab at imagining “as if it were” all still present as it used to be.

What you will have trouble reading, even if you spread the image, is the black-lettered graffito neatly inked in just below “across the waters.” It says: “build a washroom.”

I think this is perfect. An interjection of a “now” reality in a tribute to “then.”

It is also a further prompt to do what I do every time I pass this installation, with its invitation to remember the past, superimpose it on the present, build it into my understanding of how much more is still Here-And-Now than is Right-Now visible. Every time, my mind flips back, vaguely but insistently, to Italo Calvino’s 1972 book, Invisible Cities. As one astute reviewer observed, the novel is “a travelogue to places that do not exist.” It also invites us to think more richly about how we define “exist.” (Side nod to the wise fox, who taught The Little Prince, “What is essential is invisible to the eye.”)

I am primed, in other words, to read above, below and ‘way inside the everyday sights that greet me as I walk.

Jerry Pethick’s Time Top sculpture, for example, that invites us to imagine a time top spinning across the galaxy…

to crash-land on the shores of the Pacific Ocean, right here…

or the blue bands of A False Creek (Rhonda Weppler, Trevor Mahovsky), that invite us to imagine what all this will look like if climate change indeed causes ocean levels to rise 4-6 metres…

and, right next to it, another interjection of a “now” reality, again in the form of a polite and neatly lettered graffito. This one, beneath the No Dogs Allowed notice there on the right, yanks our attention back to the present. “Clean The Water,” it snaps.

I stop my fancy metaphysics for a moment, offer myself a simple contrast between sky-high…

and shoreline…

then, sideways, a panorama of nature, reminding us that it invented fall colours long before built structures began to emulate them…

followed by, at my feet, the tight focus of a single fallen leaf…

reminding us that diversity, whether in or out of political favour, is the building-block reality of life.

However pure green this leaf long appeared to be, all these other colours were woven into it right from the start and are equally part of it. As are (side nod to Thich Nhat Hanh and the concept of interbeing) sunlight, water and soil, plus all the nutrients of those three elements as well, all of which made the existence of this leaf possible.

Quite literally, the universe in a single leaf.

Enough. I think I’m done. But, no.

There is one more juxtaposition. One more interweaving. One more dance to vibrate my own little world, as I walk on by.

Upper right: nature’s wasp nest. Lower left: street-guy’s sneakers. Both at home in the tree. A tree shedding its leaves, itself at home with the cycles of the universe.

I laugh, shed my pomposity, and take myself home.

Discoveries

22 August 2025 – I mean to walk right through Dude Chilling Park, en route farther east. Instead, I stop to admire a brand-new hopscotch chalked into the park’s northern pathway.

Squares a bit on the mingy side, true, but lots of them. And so carefully executed. With European cross-strokes for the 1s and 7s. And the flourish of two colours, not one.

Instead of walking on, I settle myself on the bench just beyond…

curious to see if anyone yields to the temptation, and starts to hop.

First up, a very young toddler and her mum. The child is clearly new to the act of walking, let alone leaping around. She does not attempt to hop. She stops, frowns slightly at this unknown design, and then, intuitively, gets the idea.

Very slowly, very carefully, she obeys the visual clues: just one foot here, but both feet there. And then one, and then two… Until she loses patience, that is, and a laughing mother carries her off.

Next up, by complete contrast, a geezer. (Being one myself, I can say that.) He also stops, contemplates. Then, with a grin, he tucks his cane under one arm and starts to hop.

Hippity-hop! And again!

Until… whoops. A wobble corrected, a tumble averted, and his cane is prudently back in use.

He grins at me, amused. “Maybe I’m a little old for this.”

My mind flashes to a particular cartoon in Searle’s Cats (Ronald Searle, Dobson Books Ltd., 1967)…

and its caption: “Acrobatic cat discovering quite unexpectedly that it is too old for the game.”

I grin right back at him.

We are complicit, he and I — fellow adventurers in this demanding but rewarding late stage of life.

Vanity

30 June 2025 – So here’s my fantasy. (Any why not, a fantasy or two, as you walk downtown streets.)

I imagine that older buildings are thrilled to bits by the mirrored towers rising up in their midst.

Why? Because then they can admire themselves in the reflection, all day long.

A trio pile in together, like squealing teenagers in the same selfie…

a patient friend (L) listens while the diva (R) goes on and on about her split personality…

a dowager admires what the tinted glass does for her ageing complexion…

and a couple of stick figures pretend, for just one giddy moment, that those bodacious curves are real.

And then — sigh — I smack myself upside the head, and walk on.

St. George & the ‘Hood

19 June 2025 – Forget the dragon. That is so 10 centuries ago! These days, St. George — or, anyway, our St. George — is all about urban/eco sustainability and livability.

I’m first bounced onto this theme by a graffito on a waste bin. One that I initially think disrespectful of the human origins of the slogan…

but then reconsider, as I look smack across the street.

I’m on East 7th, heading farther east, and I’m staring into the busy abundance of this community garden stretching on north to East 6th. All lives matter, yes? We humans and plants are woven into the same eco-system.

This little local garden is very much of this neighbourhood, with its neighbourly values. A place with low-rise homes, many of them vintage wooden structures; a place where a kicked-off toddler’s shoe…

is carefully displayed at sidewalk’s edge by some later passer-by, in the hopes it may yet be retrieved.

I drop down to East 6th, look north as I cross Guelph, think how much I like this human scale — but have no illusions it will last much longer. Let your eye travel down the row of modest bright-painted houses…

to that equally bright-painted construction crane down below. That’s the future, and increasingly the present.

But!

St. George is at work.

Well, the St. George Rainway. It’s been a long time coming, but now here it is, nearing completion — with its (and I quote} “green rainwater infrastructure features like rain gardens that incorporate plants, trees and soil to manage rainwater…”

I step up to the mini-plaza with its rock, its signage mounted on a plinth…

adorned with a Wood Sorrel cut-out…

and lots of information.

Go ahead — spread the image, track its elements; I’ll wait.

Together, we learn that the Rainway along St. George celebrates a Lost Creek, a tributary to False Creek that has long since been buried underground. (For that matter, this final eastern end of False Creek, into which the lost creek ran, no longer exists either.)

While you’re exploring that handy map, please note not just the Lost Creek, left-above “You are here,” but also China Creek on the far right, and E. Broadway (East Broadway), three streets to the south.

I admire the rain garden that parallels the sidewalk immediately to the south …

then cross East 6th to admire this sign in the rain garden running on north…

and feel more vindicated than ever in making my peace with the “Plant lives matter” graffito. “Thriving in diverse communities” sounds like the prescription for healthy life, period, whatever form of life we happen to be.

You’ll understand why, with that thought fresh in mind, I fall over laughing at the dumpster graffito I see immediately afterwards.

On I go, on to China Creek North Park. (See? That’s why I wanted you to locate it on the map.)

I am heartened, as I approach the edge of this large park, to see fresh new vine fencing woven into the woodlands periphery. (It had become very scruffy.)

At first, looking down the slope, the basin of the park appears generic and banal. Old fashioned, even.

All that mown grass. And baseball diamonds.

But then, as always, I reconsider. The top of the slope is lined with benches, and they are well used, in diverse ways. At the moment, for example, the bench on the left hosts Headset Guy, who in fact is reading a real, physical book…

while the bench on the right hosts Music Man, who strums his acoustic guitar so softly it is almost subliminal. A woman just out of frame is hunkered down, motionless & meditative, and the woman you can see walking past the benches is about to start down the winding path that snakes its way to the playground at the lower level.

And I am about to join her.

This park is another “Lost Creek” — or, more precisely, a Lost Watershed. Before this last bit of False Creek was filled in, a whole network of creeks tumbled through here to feed its waters. Once filled in, the area at one point became a garbage dump, but was subsequently rescued and turned into parkland.

The slope is now naturalized, and it is wonderfully, exuberantly, messy.

With signage to justify the mess.

At the bottom of the path, I peer down the final bit of slope, the bit with a slide and (here) a mesh climbing ladder…

and, down there at the very bottom-bottom, swings and a pirate’s ship and other kiddy delights.

All this diversity! Social plants, social humans, thriving in diversity.

Walking homeward, more happy plant/human interaction…

in this volunteer-managed street corner garden, part of the City’s Green Streets Program.

And then… a reminder that not everything is happy-happy.

That some current trends are jarring and disruptive, and will damage both humans and nature.

Taped to a tree on quiet, residential East 10th just west of St. George — with its fellow trees all around — a warning about the effects of the redevelopment now being pursued under the City’s Broadway Plan.

I may know more about the correct use of apostrophes (i.e., not to form noun plurals) than the author of this plea, but these tenants, in the adjoining notice…

teach me a new word. “Demoviction.” As in, the eviction of tenants from a building, so that it may be demolished, usually for redevelopment. A phenomenon integral to the Broadway Plan. And gaining pace.

I read a testimonial, also taped to the tree, the words of a woman who has been a tenant here for 22 years: “This affordable home allowed me to continue to raise my daughter here after my husband passed away. It provided a safe community and a stable, comfortable home.”

Right next door, the specific redevelopment being proposed: Rezone from Residential to Comprehensive Development category, and, on this street of two-storey homes, put up a 17-storey tower.

Hmm. Used to be, dragons breathed fire and wore scales. Now they may instead breathe rezoning, and clad themselves in 17 storeys.

May Day, May Dusk

1 May 2025 – May first. Early spring has matured into full-tilt spring.

Days are longer, weather gentler.

The election is over…

and 343 candidates have been transformed into duly elected Members of the House of Commons.

Our cherry trees are also, quite suddenly, transformed.

Leaves take over; spent blossoms now pink-carpet the sidewalks…

and adorn the burls of their once-host trees.

Dude Chilling Park hums with early-evening activity.

As frisbee enthusiasts practise skills in the park itself, Canada geese pace the crosswalk to the north…

and skateboarders mentor each other on the school boundary lane to the east.

By 8:48, the sky over Main Street is still light, but bleached of colour.

The giant crane for the Broadway Subway project is is a severe black silhouette…

while Ray Saunders’ Mount Pleasant clock, a block farther north, is already a-dazzle with its evening lights…

and the block of sidewalk tribute banners, so quiet by day…

applaud the clock with their night-time turquoise glow.

In Advance

21 April 2025 – Otherwise occupied Friday-Saturday-Sunday, so today is my last chance to vote in the four days of advance polls for our up-coming (28 April) Federal Election.

I walk the two blocks to my designated advance polling station, a local shopping mall.

I’m a good 15 minutes ahead of the 9 am opening, but I expect a line-up even so.

Friday set a new record for advance-poll turnout (2 million), and though numbers are not yet released for subsequent days, I’d heard enough anecdotal evidence to suggest participation has remained strong.

I enter the mall. Oh yes, there is a line-up.

This is just one bit of it, snaking its way past shops and café also in the process of opening up.

Later, as I walk away, my eyes suddenly sting with tears of gratitude for what I have just seen, felt, and done. This is the ritual of democracy. So precious, so fragile — and so easily taken for granted.

But not this time.

There we all were. Despite the wait; despite the fact that — with five parties running candidates in my riding — we had among us an invisible range of political views along with our visible range of demographics; despite all that, the mood was relaxed, friendly and excited.

That’s the word! Excited. There was a kind of happy excitement humming in the air. People were bright-eyed. I’m doing something that matters!

I remember the heavily tatttoo’ed young man (with an impressively patient toddler by the hand) who explained his attitude to the guy next to him: “Yeah, well, y’know? You got to vote. You don’t vote, you got no right to bitch.”

Later, as the day warms and brightens, I walk along the False Creek Seawall.

Where, once again, all those human demographics are present. And, once again, the mood is friendly.

And, once again, I am grateful.

The T-Word

23 March 2025 – Not that T-word! I mean the other T-word, the one that — thanks to the first T-word — currently preoccupies Canada, and much of the world.

Trade war.

I apologize yet again for a political post in a non-political blog. But here’s the reality: every blogger writes in the context of their own daily life. The daily life for Canadians now is that the most powerful country in the world plans to destroy us. Unlike Ukraine, we do not have bombs physically flattening our land; like Ukraine, we are the settled target of a powerful, authoritarian, expansionist regime that does not believe we have the right to exist.

In David/Goliath terms, Canada is David. This trade-war analysis — from BMO Nesbitt Burns (the investment firm wholly owned by Bank of Montreal) — uses the analogy, and gives David reasons to cheer up.

I received it by email from a friend; I’m reprinting it in its entirety. In the sea of lies currently swirling on this topic, here is a clear, credible, point-form primer on tariffs and the trade war.

Your bonus is the Hamilton Spectator cartoon at the end.

*****

This message is sent to you by BMO Nesbitt Burns Inc. BMO Nesbitt Burns is made up of Nesbitt Burns Inc., Nesbitt Burns Securities Ltd., and Estate Insurance Advisory Services Inc.

David vs. Goliath: The U.S. Trade War on Canada And Who’s Really Winning

For years, Canada and the U.S. had a sibling rivalry. Sure, we had our disputes, but at the end of the day, we worked together.

But now? It’s less “friendly competition” and more “Goliath throwing a tantrum because David won’t just roll over.”

The U.S. is picking fights, throwing tariff punches, and blaming literally everyone but itself for its problems. And Canada? We’re just standing here, taking the hits, shrugging, and quietly preparing to win the long game. Even while threats are made daily to our own sovereignty.

For anyone who forgot: David won.

Goliath’s Temper Tantrum: The U.S. Trade War on Canada

Here’s how it’s playing out:

🔴 The U.S. economy is in shambles. $36 trillion in debt, corporate greed at an all-time high, the middle class getting squeezed out of existence.
🔴 Rather than fix its own problems, the U.S. starts blaming its allies. Suddenly, Canada is a trade villain.
🔴 Tariffs get thrown around like confetti. First, it’s dairy. Then it’s aluminum. Then it’s oil. Next, it’s probably going to be maple syrup because why not?
🔴 Canada says, “Uh, we actually don’t need most of what you sell us.” We start buying local, strengthening our economy, and cancelling travel to the U.S. Oh but now the US is stopping Canadians from entering, requiring visas from Canadians and UNLAWFULLY detaining Canadian citizens.
🔴 The U.S. starts feeling the financial pain. American businesses that depend on Canadian consumers start screaming, but the government gaslights them into thinking it’s “for their own good.”

But What’s the Reality About Tariffs?

Let’s actually break it down since the people pushing this nonsense seem to have selective amnesia or a wilful lack of awareness of facts.

1️⃣ Trump Negotiated the “Best Trade Deal Ever” So Why The Complaints Now?

First off, the trade agreement we’re operating under isn’t some “ancient” bad deal screwing over the U.S. This is Trump’s own handiwork: the USMCA agreement that was negotiated under his administration.

🔴 Trump called it the “biggest, best trade deal ever” and said it would “fix” NAFTA.
🔴 His team designed it, signed it, and sold it as a win for America.
🔴 Now, suddenly, it’s a bad deal and needs to be scrapped?

So, what is it? Was Trump lying then, or are people lying now? Pick one.

2️⃣ Dairy Tariffs: A Non-Issue That Gets Brought Up Anyway
Ah yes, the “big scary dairy tariffs” that people love to scream about.

Yes, Canada has dairy tariffs. But here’s what they never tell you:

✅ The U.S. was given a quota under USMCA. American dairy producers already have a guaranteed amount they can sell to Canada without tariffs.
✅ The U.S. never maxes out its quota. The tariffs have never even been applied because American producers don’t fill the agreed-upon volume.
✅ Canadians don’t want American dairy. It’s pumped full of growth hormones, and heavily subsidized, so the supply is artificially inflated.

So no, this isn’t some great injustice. The U.S. has access to the Canadian dairy market, it just doesn’t use it.

David’s Strength: What Canada Actually Brings to the Table

Despite all the noise, Canada isn’t just some small fry in this fight. We’re integral to America’s economy:

📌 Canada is the #1 foreign supplier of oil to the U.S. (And we sell it at a discount.)
📌 Aluminum? The U.S. military relies on Canadian resources to keep producing weapons.
📌 Raw materials? The U.S. imports a massive amount of lumber, minerals, and essential components from Canada.

Without these? The U.S. economy grinds to a halt.

Meanwhile, what do we import from the U.S.?

📌 Cheap processed foods. (We can live without them.)
📌 Unnecessary consumer goods. (We’ll buy local instead.)
📌 U.S. cars (which we’re forced to buy in trade agreements and we’d actually prefer other options.)

So let’s get real: if the trade war escalates, who suffers?

The “Self-Reliant America” Fantasy vs. Reality

I keep hearing people say, “America should be self-sufficient! We don’t need Canada!”

Okay. Let’s play that out.

🚨 The problem? U.S. oil refineries CAN’T handle domestic shale oil. They are built for heavier crude which is why they rely on Canadian oil sands crude to function properly.
🚨 Switching over to refine U.S. shale would take years and hundreds of billions of dollars.
🚨 In the meantime, energy prices would skyrocket, and the U.S. would need to import even more oil from the Middle East.

So yeah, America can become “self-sufficient,” but at what cost? Unless people are willing to pay double for gas, this argument is just empty rhetoric.

Oh, and let’s not forget:

💡 If you remove oil from Canada’s exports to the U.S., the U.S. actually has a trade surplus with Canada.

Meaning? The U.S. sells us way more “stuff” than we actually need.

And the rest of the world? They’re already rejecting “Made in the USA.”

📌 Buy European, Buy Local movements are exploding.
📌 China is reducing reliance on U.S. exports.
📌 Even American allies are diversifying trade to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of bad U.S. policy.

When your own allies start treating you like an unpredictable liability, it’s time to ask who the real problem is.

Then There’s The The “America Pays for Canada’s Defense” Nonsense

Oh, this one’s my favorite.

🚨 The only country Canada has EVER had to defend itself from… is the U.S.

📌 In 1813, the U.S. burned down York (now Toronto).
📌 In 1814, we retaliated and burned down the White House.

Canada hasn’t been at risk from invasion since. Meanwhile, we’ve been dragged into every U.S. war for over a century, not because we needed defense, but because the U.S. needed allies to prop up its war machine.

And let’s not forget:

📌 U.S. military contracts depend on Canadian resources.
📌 Canada buys overpriced U.S. defense tech to “balance” trade.
📌 The U.S. defense industry benefits from these arrangements far more than Canada ever has.

So spare me the “we protect Canada” routine. The only thing we’ve been protected from is making our own foreign policy decisions without U.S. interference.

Canada Owns a Chunk of U.S. Debt – You’re Welcome.

America’s excuse for slapping tariffs on allies is that it has to fix its debt problem.

🚨 Reality check: Canada is the 6th largest foreign holder of U.S. debt.

Yeah, you read that right.

While Americans are being told that Canada is some kind of economic enemy, Canada is literally one of the reasons America hasn’t defaulted on its loans yet.

So next time someone complains that “America is getting ripped off by Canada,” maybe ask why the U.S. keeps borrowing money from us.

The Solution: 10-Point Action Plan to Actually Fix This
Instead of pointing fingers, here’s what would actually work:

1️⃣ Stop the blame game.
Blaming Canada, China, Mexico, or the EU doesn’t fix the U.S. economy. Accountability does.

2️⃣ Break up corporate monopolies.
The real reason Americans are struggling? Billion-dollar companies run everything, control pricing, and pay workers nothing. Break them up.

3️⃣ Tax ultra-wealthy billionaires properly & stop corporate welfare.
America is not broke. It’s just that the ultra-rich don’t pay their fair share and corporations are given bundles of cash like they are non-profits. Fix that, and the money is there.

4️⃣ Invest in infrastructure and energy independence – the right way.
Want to stop relying on Canadian oil? Great. But it’ll take years and hundreds of billions of dollars to switch refinery capacity. Until then, be realistic.

5️⃣ Strengthen local manufacturing.
Instead of tariffing allies, invest in domestic factories and fair labor to bring jobs home without price-gouging consumers.

6️⃣ Stop artificially inflating bad industries.
The U.S. subsidizes failing industries (like dairy) while ignoring tech, green energy, and innovation. Prioritize the future, not the past.

7️⃣ Invest in education and skills training.
A strong workforce doesn’t come from blaming immigrants or trade deals. It comes from giving people the skills they need to compete globally.

8️⃣ Get real about debt.
Instead of trying to tariff its way out of debt, the U.S. should cut wasteful spending (military excess, corporate handouts) and increase revenue where it actually makes sense. Cutting out National Park funding when it’s PROFITABLE makes no sense.

9️⃣ Respect allies instead of pushing them away.
If the U.S. keeps picking fights with allies, don’t be shocked when we take our business elsewhere.

🔟 Make America a place people want to support.
People aren’t boycotting America because they hate it. They’re doing it because the U.S. is making it impossible to be an ally.

The Bottom Line? David Always Wins.

Goliath lost the fight not because he was weak but because he underestimated the strength of his opponent.

Right now, the U.S. is flailing. It’s punching allies, throwing tantrums, and refusing to deal with its own mess.

Meanwhile, Canada is adapting.

🔹 We’re building up local businesses.
🔹 We’re cutting our reliance on U.S. imports.
🔹 We’re doubling down on relationships with Europe and Asia.

And when the dust settles, guess who’s going to come out stronger?

It’s not the guy swinging wildly and blaming everyone else.

It’s the one who stayed focused, made smart moves, and kept their eye on the real prize.

David wins. Every time.

Go Jeff Go!

6 March 2025 – I never meant a political blog, still would rather not. But when some other country plans to take you over, it kind of gets your attention.

It got Jeff Douglas’s attention, for example — the star of the Molson’s beer-ad rant “We are Canadian” created 25 years ago and still cherished in some aging memories.

Yeah well, Jeff is back, because Jeff, like the rest of us, is annoyed.

Here’s the updated rant.

Urban Clutter

1 March 2025 – Clutter? “Juxtapositions” is more accurate, also better PR, but I suspect there’s some kind of rule against using five-syllable words in a title.

So Urban Clutter it is. There’s a lot to be said for it, by whichever name — so many possibilities, all piled atop each other! The pile-up tells stories, and it both sparks and rewards curiosity.

At least, that’s the effect on me, as I stand at Davie & Richards, en route an Urban Treat — a noon-time performance at the Scotiabank Dance Centre. While my feet wait for the light to change, my eyes say, “Look at that!”

So I do.

It’s nothing special, it’s just… it’s just very urban. Tram lines overhead; traffic signals to one side; and, framed by both, the residential towers that lie behind Emery Barnes Park and before Helmcken Street.

The Shiamak dance performance is wonderful. Afterwards I adapt their “Have Feet Will Dance” slogan to my own “Have Feet Will Walk,” and start north on Seymour. (North-ish, downtown streets are on a slant, but I’ll spare you the precisions.) The day is balmy, I’m happy, and I decide to walk right to West Pender, where I’ll catch a bus back home.

But then I get distracted, and my simple plan goes all fractal. Blame it on urban clutter.

Before I even reach Nelson, I’m laughing at this literal sign of our politico-cultural times.

Left on Nelson, right on Granville, and I’m up against the busy construction work beneath one of the street’s stubborn theatrical survivors: the Vogue. It’s a 1941 movie theatre (now event venue), built in Art Deco/Art Moderne style. As you can see.

I veer onto Smithe just past the Vogue Theatre. No particular reason for the change of direction — but suddenly here I am, just before Seymour, at the entrance to Ackery’s Alley.

The alley backs the Orpheum Theatre on Seymour, and celebrates the venue’s long (and continuing) history of live performances. It was painted and generally spiffed up in 2018, the idea being to welcome pedestrian as well as the existing delivery-truck traffic. I had recently arrived in town, walked it then, and yes, it sparkled.

It hasn’t had much maintenance since, and it’s a lot grubbier.

But it’s still in pedestrian use and, with its strong lines and commercial functionality, it is very Downtown Right Now.

Out the other end at Robson, where a window sign apparently invites me to dial down my consumerism.

Well… not exactly. This is the window of a cannabis shop, which prides itself on bargain prices. So: keep spending money, just spend it with us! (And discover the wonders of our products.)

Since I still plan a quick ride home, I take to Granville again, heading for the bus stop at West Pender. But then, when I reach Pender, I look farther down Granville and I am again distracted — beguiled! lured! tickled! — by urban clutter.

It’s the dome. I start wondering about the dome.

I could always walk one more block and check it out — but what fun is that? Especially when, just before I reach that next corner, I can instead dive into Alley Oop, the first of the downtown alleys to be spiffed up, back in 2016.

Also grubby by now, but it does have that hanging sphere at the far end.

Which rewards my head-tilt very nicely. Geometry at work.

This brings me to Seymour and West Hastings, with Waterfront Station in the distance and this building opposite, whose upturned lip always makes me think of whale baleen. (That frog-splattered white car, even closer, is a gift from the Traffic Light Gods.)

By now I’m well off-track for the mystery dome. I correct course and walk west on Hastings. This time the urban clutter offers me a distant view of the Marine Building at Burrard, framed against glass towers, and a close-up of elaborate lanterns and trim on another heritage building right next to me.

The bus stop at Granville is a reminder that the cruise ship terminal is nearby and, in season, its passenger loads wreak havoc with local traffic.

Perversely enough, I now head away from the mystery dome. Instead, I follow the raised Granville sidewalk all the way north to the lookout at Burrard Inlet.

Small but satisfying, this little plaza lies between the East Convention Centre (with its “sails”) and the cruise ship terminal on one side, and, on the other…

harbour cranes, Waterfront Station, the SeaBus terminal, train tracks and a helicopter landing pad.

About face!

Back up the raised sidewalk I go, now aware that this entire four-building foot print — including the mystery dome — comprises the Sinclair Centre. I knew this, I really did. It just took a while to reconcile my memories of this once-busy office/service/retail complex, with the boarded-up reality of right now.

??? They look like giant condoms, ready for action. What is going on in there?

I don’t know, is the answer to my own question. The complex seems mostly closed, and I later read online that a massive redevelopment proposal has been under review. Is work now underway, or becalmed? I can’t tell.

Whichever, it is a sad sight.

Walking the West Hastings side of the complex toward Howe, I pass a medallion face looking suitably distressed. As it should. The wooden door is in good condition, but the plaque beneath the medallion has been hacked away.

Corner of Howe, I take one last look at the dome that started my long, happy loop-about through all that urban clutter.

Then, satisfied, I finally board my bus for home.

There’s one last delight, as we roll south on Main Street, and I manage to grab a shot through the bus window.

The Pacific Central train station is in the background, but who cares. I’m focused on the red & white “flag” now installed above the pub entrance, right at the cross-street. It is yet another literal sign of our politico/cultural times.

The final, perfect detail? The name of that cross-street is… National Street.

Frozen

14 February 2025 – Not viciously frozen-frozen — not like most of the rest of Canada, right now — just the benign Vancouver version of frozen.

Just cold enough, and cold enough long enough, that snow still covers the ground, and…

even Lost Lagoon in Stanley Park lies still and silent beneath a layer of ice.

It’s that stillness, that hold-the-breath absolute stillness, that I remember from the colder winters I knew in eastern Canada. It is as much a mood as a physical sensation, and it is with me again as I walk the Lost Lagoon trail, heading from the Burrard Inlet side over to English Bay.

Snow on the ground, long shadows high-contrast black against the snow, snow-shards sitting atop the Lagoon instead of melting into it…

and even an “Ice Unsafe” notice pounded into the ground, this being one of the very rare occasions it needs to be pulled out of storage and put to use.

My trail leads me away from the shoreline, into the woods, shows me yet again how much bright beauty is to be had, when winter sun blazes in the sky.

It sparks against moss on a tree branch…

against this tree trunk…

and it spotlights an impromptu snowman, shining in the field beyond a wayside bench. The bench is currently irrelevant; the snowman is, literally, in his element.

Signage tells me I’m walking through the Ted and Mary Greig Rhododendron Garden. Sure enough, next to this magnificent old tree stump (bearing what may be the cut of a long-ago lumberjack)…

I see valiant little rhodo buds, already peeking out at the world. It seems madness to me, but I’m not about to argue with Mother Nature.

Ice, snow, stillness… and then… and then I’m out the other end of the trail.

Here at English Bay, all is motion.

Melting snow, grazing geese and, below me, tidal waters lapping gently to shore.

Usually I drop down to the Seawall. Today I stay here, on higher ground, taking in a broader perspective. I walk my way back into the city, still with water to one side, but with towers and urban life to the other.

On down Beach Avenue, and the long view opens up before me: Morton Park with its A-Maze-ing Laughter bronze sculptures, its palm trees, its geese, its flags, and, as backdrop, Doug Coupland’s Sunset Beach Love Letter, the mural embracing that refurbished apartment building toward the right.

I cut across a corner of Morton Park. It rewards me with a closer look at the geese, the laughing bronze figures beyond the palms, the flags snapping in the breeze…

and the colours and textures of a sleeping Canada Goose.


A utility box at Denman and Pendrell — all splashy with an Andrew Briggs’ mural — tells me I’m seriously back in the city.

I have plans for Denman Street! Somewhere along here there’s an Aussie pastry-pie place, and I want to find it again. I pass a whole globe’s-worth of culinary invitations along the way, but I keep walking, and I am rewarded.

Because here it is: a café-cum-hole-in-the-wall named Peaked Pies.

The menu offers a range of Savoury Pies (from kangaroo meat to vegan) which, should you choose to pay the premium, can be transformed into Peaked Pies. The term is descriptive. The “peak” is what results when you take the pie as base, and then pile on mashed potatoes + mushy peas + torrents of gravy.

Like this:

I almost can’t believe I agreed to all that — but I did, didn’t I?

Later, back home, I could have cropped this image to just the PP, but I want you to see the rest. It shows how neighbourly this little café was, when I happened to drop in, and I suspect that’s typical.

The elbow in the background belongs to a young mother, murmuring loving silliness at her baby in between mouthfuls of her own PP; baby is gurgling approval back at her. The helmet belongs to the Aging Geezer sitting farther down this communal bench from me, who is deep in conversation with the Younger Tablemate chance-seated next to him. Each, from their very different age-point, is encouraging the other to follow their dreams as they navigate their respective next stage of life. When they part, it is with reciprocal thanks for the conversation.

My peaked pie is good, true comfort food on a nippy day. And the mood in that café is a comfort as well.

We can all use a bit of comfort.

  • WALKING… & SEEING

    "Traveller, there is no path. Paths are made by walking" -- Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

    "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" -- Marcel Proust (1871-1922)

    "A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities" -- Rebecca Solnit, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking"

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