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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
20 January 2025 – We’re in a cold snap. Nothing like the extremes back East, just temperatures hovering below/above zero from night to day — low enough to set the hoar frost blooming early each morning.
Including along the Shoreline Trail, the pretty little trail in Port Moody that runs between Rocky Point Park and Old Orchard Park, cupping the eastern end of Burrard Inlet as it goes.
As I wait for my companion outside the SkyTrain station, I realize the oak leaf on the artwork at my feet and my own fingertips are in agreement: there’s a bite in the air.
But it dances through a blazing bright sky, and it is magical.
Hoar frost sparkles on the boardwalk across a marshy inlet…
encircles an ice-rimmed pond…
and sweeps across the entire marshland, right to the creek whose waters steam gently in the sun.
We cross mudflats on this rebuilt boardwalk, and agree it is much safer and more accessible than its wonky predecessor and is therefore A Very Good Thing — but also agree we miss the charm of that predecessor.
Then we quite rightly stop being such ingrates, and settle down to enjoy ourselves.
A waterfront blind farther along offers a chance to watch wildlife unobserved…
though at the moment we see only the stumps of old pilings, remnants of the McNair Cedar Mill that once operated here.
I’ve visited the mill site on previous Trail walks; tide is low enough to allow us to explore it today as well.
Only later online do I both learn the name of the mill and also see this 1925 photograph of the mill in operation. (Thank you Tessa Trethewey, for posting this photo on the I Love Port Moody blog on April 25 last year.)
Before we rejoin the Trail, I stop to admire this ziggurat, meticulously constructed from old mill bricks still lying around on-site. (I think for a moment, by ricochet, of the ephemeral clean-fill sculptures created out on Toronto’s Leslie Spit, by visitors who celebrate what lies to hand.)
Back on the Trail, what we have to hand is a collection of nature’s own tree-sculptures.
Companion burls high up one trunk…
and a whole lot of winter moss. An old scar, cushioned in moss, for example…
great rounded folds of bark rising from a mossy base…
and a moss-splattered tree that stands politely to one side as we look across reeds and marshes, across Burrard Inlet itself, to the mountains and distant snow peaks.
Warmed by the growing strength of the sun and also our own exertions, we decide we have more than earned lunch.
We retrace our steps, greeting hikers and patting dogs as we go, and settle into generous servings of Mexican comfort food. Our cheerful waitress, a rose tattoo peeping out from under her left cuff, says it is the perfect day to walk the Shoreline Trail.
9 January 2025 — Current events flip my mind back 130 years, to an 1895 Punch cartoon, by Sir John Tenniel.
Master Johnny Bull asks, “Monroe Doctrine? What is the Monroe Doctrine?”
Master Jonathan (aka James Monroe) answers: “Wa-al — Guess it’s that everything everywhere belongs to us.”
In his December 2, 1823 address to Congress, President James Monroe articulated what was to be United States policy concerning the rest of the Americas.
“By the mid-1800s” — says the Office of the Historian, in its series Milestones in the History of U.S. Foreign Relations — “Monroe’s declaration, combined with the ideas of Manifest Destiny, provided precedent and support for U.S. expansion on the American continent…”
18 November 2024 – This weekend — for the 28th year — was the annual Eastside Culture Crawl. I take advantage of Sunday’s better weather (merely iffy, as opposed to torrential) to join in.
I’ll visit studios like this one…
but mostly, as seems to be my personal Crawl tradition, I’ll just go for a big old walk. And visit some studios along the way.
When I cross 2nd Avenue, northbound on Scotia Street…
flaming beech trees welcome me to official Crawl territory: it runs from the waterfront farther north to right here, 2nd Avenue. (And, east-west, from Victoria Drive to Columbia Street.)
Also part of my personal tradition: my first visit is always to the bustling Arts Factory on Industrial Avenue, but before that — just to get in the mood — I loop my way through the False Creek Flats, taking in their evolving mix of new facilities and old warehouses as I go.
Streets in here have helpful names. Western Street runs up/down the Flats’ western boundary; Station Street to the east runs to the train station; and they are connected, you’ve guessed it, by Southern, Central and Northern streets, in the appropriate geographic order. North of Northern lies Terminal, and beyond that, Industrial.
I pass one of my all-time favourite rusty warehouses at the corner of Southern and Western, now with a gleaming new high-ish rise in the background…
but I’m even more taken by this tear-drop puddle reflecting the warehouse back at me, as I round the corner to head north on Western.
A huge stump marks the corner of Western and Northern. The building looks more derelict every year, yet it is still in operation, as its grumpy shipping-receiving notice makes clear.
After my visit to the Arts Factory, I double back west to Main Street. This makes no logistical sense at all!
It’s the most perversely roundabout way possible to get to Gore Avenue, which houses the three studios I’ve decided to visit this year — but, hey, I’m out for a walk, right? The rounder-about it gets, the better.
And I’m glad for my few blocks on Main. They take me past something that may look bleak, but deserves respect.
Yes, it’s behind chain-link fence and yes, it is November-dreary. But it is also a seasonal community garden, here at the corner of Milross, and it bears our local Yarn Bomber’s tribute of a crochet heart — recognition of the resilience of people doing what they can, in a tough context.
Back east along Prior, heading for the end of the block where I will turn north on Gore. I plan to scoot right along, but I’m stopped by this Mexican cervecería, just past Hogan’s Alley.
A moment for a giggle, and then eastward-ho to the corner of Gore Avenue, with the venerable Hunnybee Bruncheonette [sic] on the left and equally venerable Strathcona homes on the right.
I’ve walked along Gore on other occasions, but it’s always been the ground-level shops that caught my attention — I’ve never thought who might be doing what, higher up in these old buildings. Today, I start to find out.
First target: Godzilla Studios, where one workshop — Street & Saddle — will be open to visitors. Once inside, once upstairs, I’m distracted en route by the instructions I see through an open washroom door over the waste paper bin.
Politeness seems to work! The bin is full to the brim, but the floor is clean.
On down the hall to Street & Saddle, a warm, welcoming and very impressive workshop of cheerful people and good clothing. Good business practices, too, as I learn from this sign on a counter top:
Isn’t that the best? Each year, their little shop keeps a whole pony’s-weight of fabric out of landfill.
Back down the stairs, out the door, on up the street to the Pot Spot Studio.
A word about stairs. Stairs literally come with art-crawl territory, since studios are usually located in the higher reaches of their respective buildings. Savvy artists, like these Pot Spot folk, make sure you know which stairs to climb…
and then give you a bonus.
Turn the corner to climb those red-arrowed stairs…
and a serpent leads the way.
As the potter at this top level studio wraps some purchases for other visitors, I hear a bit of his backstory: from his Russian homeland, to art school in Jerusalem, to — one year ago — Vancouver. I think of the losses, the struggles, the terrible choices that must be locked up in that chronology, and tell him I wish him well in his new life. His eyes soften, he nods acknowledgment.
North again on Gore, on to the eponymous Gore Studio, can’t miss it, just follow the sign for Kim Hung Noodles. (It’s the doorway I teased you with, at the start of this post.)
In, and up.
Again up.
And the invitation to go on up yet again. Again.
I’m not sure what that is! A multi-coloured toilet roll? An aerosol paint can? Doesn’t matter; It’s of a piece with the fantasy-land all around.
I find myself taking photos for some enchanted visitors who are struggling with their selfie technique, then do my own tour of the wonders, and then leave. Back down all those stairs, back out onto Gore Avenue.
With a last glance at that impressive building, noodle ghosts and all…
I walk past the Himalayan restaurant next door…
past the gloriously pungent Chinese market spilling out over the sidewalk…
and finally take myself back out to Main Street, and a bus ride home.
16 October 2024 – There’s “boring old Clock Time,” as I observed in my post of 13 July, and then there’s Crow Time — an infinitely more enjoyable way to measure the changing length of day. This means I can determine dawn-to-dusk by looking up the stats, or by simply looking out my window.
Crows leave their Burnaby roost for Vancouver roughly at dawn, and return from Vancouver to their roost roughly at dusk.
When I wrote about all this in mid-July, the afternoon commute passed my window at around 9:30 pm.
"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"
WALKING WOMAN 