Boris Vian in my dreams Coriolistic Anachronisms - A Vancouver Blog

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May 2
   Vintage! This is a random post. The year was 2006...

Sitting at a coffee shop terrace in Yaletown, the afternoon sun pleasantly warming me up, I can’t help but to realize how far ahead Vancouver is compared to most North American cities I know. « Ahead in what way? » might you ask. In the art of en-joy-ing life.

I honestly rarely see anybody show any signs of stress in their everyday life or at work. Drivers are polite, taking their time, patient. Pedestrians are given complete respect and priority. On the other hand, nobody here jailwalks.

Vancouver is also the most dog-friendly city I know, France included. And yet, as opposed to Paris, strolling down the waterfront Seawall or Robson Street doesn’t feel like walking on a mine field, the way it would in the City of Light itself. One can actually wander around gazing up at the high-rises without fear of stepping into a dog’s revenge.

And walking with your eyes turned skyward is something you end up doing a lot, in Vancouver. She isn’t called the City of Glass for nothing. The buildings are all literally made of glass, in turn shiny, reflective, pastel green, metallic or transparent. It almost seems as though cement has been banished from construction ethics. Le Corbusier wouldn’t be happy here, but I am.

So today I ended up in Yaletown after arriving late at the Science World and deciding to hop on the False Creek Ferry which links four or five locations on both banks of the Creek. The slow ferry looks more like a floating bath tub than a boat but it’s fun and extremely convenient to avoid a bus ride or a long walk across bridges.

The sun is reflecting on all the windows and birds are singing in nearby trees, as if enjoying it too, like Mr. Hulot’s canary responding to the window’s reflection.

This is not a poor area. A Lamborghini is parked a few meters from here and the rest aren’t cheap either. I’m tempted to compare the neighborhood to Beverly hills or St. Tropez but the difference is that here I don’t get a sense of jealous exclusivity and I don’t feel out of place even though I could barely pay for my coffee.

Vancouver’s elite tends to tolerate its poor counterpart with nonchalance. The fact is that our city is the end of the line on a national westward migration of the poor and the homeless who flee unforgiving eastern winters in search of warmer nights and merrier days, like the rest of us.

I’ve read somewhere that Vancouver’s homeless population is estimated at 5000 souls, which would probably be a fraction of what it is in many other North American cities. It’s 5000 too many, of course, and I don’t pretend to know what their life is like and what they must endure. Theirs is a misery that I suppose must be experienced to be understood. A misery of the mind, mostly.

They manage, however, to keep their presence very noticeable and begging is quite common downtown. It surprises visitors but doesn’t seem to impress the locals. It probably gives them a chance to practice R.A.K.’s and must help them feel better about themselves and justify the high price of living downtown.

But as people say here, « It’s all good, eh! »

For the homeless, wherever, whenever:

« Remember when we found misery
We watched her, watched her spread her wings
And slowly fly around our room
And she asked for your gentle mind »


[Blonde Redhead – Misery is a Butterfly]

(To be continued with a visit to the Public Library…)

Defined tags for this entry: ,

 

2006-05-02 19:33 • Posted in On the road:

12 Comments

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  • 1 - fab says:

    « Arrête, tu me fais du mal!

    Et comme disait Véronique:
    "Je chante dans le port de Vancouver
    Je chante sur des souvenirs amers
    Et je danse, je danse
    C’est bien
    Je n’vois jamais le matin
    Je chante dans le port de Vancouver
    Et je lance des menaces dans les airs
    Et je danse, je danse
    C’est bien
    Je n’vois jamais le matin
    Et c’est bien
    A midi je suis dans mon lit
    Et je rêve de quelque chose
    A minuit je suis dans la ville
    Et je cherche quelque chose" »

  • 2 - stephanie says:

    « c’est beauuuuuuuuuuuu.
    Et j’y suis aussi !!! »

  • 2.1 - Vince answers:

    « Fab: hello :-) Comment ca, je te fais du mal??? Moi qui suis si doux...

    Steph: hello aussi :-) On est chanceux, pensons aux pauvres qui vivent aux iles Caiman ou a Lyon ;-) »

  • 3 - NewYorkAngel says:

    « I WANNA GO!! I WANNA GO!! I want to know all that beauty and share the art of en-joy-ing life...
    ’Give me a ticket for an aeroplane
    Ain’t got time to take a fast train’.
    :-) »

  • 3.1 - Vince answers:

    « Well then you’d better put your boots on, because « These boots were made for walking... » to the airport ;-) »

  • 4 - NewYorkAngel says:

    « And, that’s just what they do indeed! LOL ;-) »

  • 4.1 - Vince answers:

    « By the way, Angel, I believe the level of en-joy-ment of life must not be too bad either where you are, tapas, sangria, late nights fiesta, flamenco, the sea...

    And how far is Castejon de Sos? Great paragliding there! ;-) »

  • 5 - Vince says:

    « After re-reading my post, I found it surprisingly selfish and blind. I’m not sure that enjoying my cozy little Vancouver experience gives me the right to ignore the fact that I come across the homeless everyday downtown, and that my own R.A.K. rate is rather low.

    I added a line to the post, not wanting to change the essence of what was a happy text but hoping to balance things out a little. It reads: « It’s 5000 too many, of course, and I don’t pretend to know what their life is like and what they must endure. Theirs is a misery that must be experienced to be understood. A misery of the mind, mostly. » »

  • 6 - NewYorkAngel says:

    « Vincent, your description of Spain sounds more like Spain during the holidays. Everyday life is quite different, just like in many other countries I guess. Though, it’s true that most people know how to take their time here. But it’s not all sangria, tapas and fiesta.
    Anyhow, what you added to your post shows you’re able to reaapraise and it’s rare nowadays. Well done then. And I still like the ‘happy’ side of the initial version. As for Castejon de Sos, i’ll look it up and tell you! »

  • 7 - Anonymous says:

    « I like following your trail. I enjoyed the tub tremendously. »

  • 8 - miss604 says:

    « I’m certainly not the most patient driver. I think Vancouverites can get a little crazy on the roads but it pales in comparison to other cities.

    Vancouver is home to Canada’s richest neighbouhood and only 10 minutes away, Canada’s poorest. There are so many contrasting elements.

    Our ‘history’ doesn’t go back that far - everything looks new, everything is being built - the entire city is under construction. It’s a great experience to live though, although... does all the glass and shiny-newness of it all have any character?

    I think it does - mostly because the new shiny glass buildings reflect and mirror our most valuable assets - the natural beauty.

    The ocean, the mountains... and the mix of people. I really don’t know anyone who’s parents were BOTH born in Canada, let alone Vancouver. People come from all over and call Vancouver home. It’s the natural beauty that I value the most :) »

  • 9 - Vince says:

    « LOL, Thank you for bringing some nuance to my slightly subjective view of Vancouver :-)

    To your question « does all the glass have any character? », I would answer yes; it’s own character as such: shiny glass. Just like white can still have its own identity after being a simple combination of all colors...

    And I totally second you on the natural beauty thing, Vancouver’s greatest value. But I do include all the glass and intense urban core into that natural beauty. For once, here, it enhances it, doesn’t it? »

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We now go back to current chronological entries:
Random Entry: Mad Vancouver skies  
 Next: Looking west, thinking east | Previous: Cheering up
Oct 8

I woke up recently with a story going on in my head, a story which I narrated, and I kept on doing so for a while even after I had awakened, confused. Then I began to emerge from the mists of sleep and realized that my dreaming mind was imitating Boris Vian. Now, I don’t like wars. I despise them. I hate people who wage them. They symbolize the ugliest face of mankind. Thank God we are also capable of love. But to paraphrase PIL, this is not a love post. It’s just the result of me once more remembering a dream, and deciding to rewrite it, in hope of ridiculing the very act of war.

We halted our advance because Charlie who was trailing found a cow and decided to milk it. At first the sergeant got angry, but seeing that Charlie was actually getting results, he ordered the company to fall back on his position and we all sat in a semi-circle and started cheering for him. But soon more cows arrived and one of them stepped on a land mine too close to us; Charlie and the milked cow are now spread over a 5 meter radius, the biggest parts of them barely big enough to make hamburger patties. Those are the risks of war.

So the sergeant had us push forward all morning, still covered in blood and milk, looking like we had just escaped a horror show. Around noon we found an abandoned church and adopted it as our new outpost. The pipe organ was still intact and everyone tried to play a few notes, which sent the serg’ into a fury and also probably caused the shit we’re in now.

We’ve been defending our position for two long hours. The enemy arrived as silently as a troop of ghosts and they took out Sheen and McDouglas who had been stationed outside as sentinels. I didn’t like McDoug, so it’s as well, but Sheen always carried a saucisson that I wish I could’ve saved. Then the enemy opened fire on the church, probably thinking we were going to panic and run out like rabbits. We did panic but we couldn’t run, most of us having dropped our weapons and undressed to wash off the cow meat...

By the time we got our defenses up, the attacking party had almost turned the church into gruyere cheese. But Blondy managed to drag the heavy caliber up the tower and began spraying the plaza, forcing the bastards to retreat behind the trees and take a break, which they probably spent eating the saucisson. But it was a trick because one of their snippers slipped around the perimeter and took out Blondy without even giving up his location.

So now we are pretty freaked out, carefully watching what’s happening outside through little holes in the tainted glass windows, wondering why the hell we didn’t stay by the cows to eat burgers. I’ve still got blood all over me but I don’t know what part of it is mine, I was right underneath Blondy. We’ve also lost Jones, Mitchell and Lewis. The sergeant is missing an arm and still foraging through the debris looking for it; I wish he’d stop that, he’s making too much noise and giving them something to target. But then again, I can sympathize. He can’t shoot without it.

This bloody war had already cost me two fingers, which I keep lovingly in a plastic bag, despite the smell - one gets sentimental at the strangest times. I have a few extra pounds of shrapnel buried near my stomach but they have stopped hurting now, not sure if it’s a good sign or not. I don’t think they were from the grenade that left me stuck here. It must have been the exploding ammunition canister. Thank god I had just kiddingly told Jones he had a nice ass, making him stand in front of me outraged, when the grenade flew through the window. His ass was ruined, along with most of his body, but he saved mine.

But now, as the others are about to hit us hard again, I really wish I could drag myself to the more protected east corner, behind the choir’s bench. I could sweep the entrance with one long blast, making them regret their decision to enter - and they will, and they’ll have to step over a pair of amputated legs. As it stands, I’ll be right in their path and the first to go, which is as well because I wouldn’t want to finish the war without my legs any way.

 

2007-10-08 00:12 • Posted in Schtroumpfissime:

2 Comments

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  • 1 - Sigrid says:

    « Yes, nice pastiche. Yes, how dark. »

  • 1.1 - Vince answers:

    « Bon, at least you can appreciate ;-)) »

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