Camp Vancouver

In addition to the aforementioned explosions, our weekend was filled with some colourful culture.

On Saturday, we ventured out for the Powell Street Festival in the notorious Downtown Eastside.  For those who may not know, this poverty-stricken area is the place in Vancouver for drugs, prostitution and other such shady business.  We tend to avoid even driving through there, but the event was going on in Oppenheimer Park (located in the midst of it all), so we jumped on a bus and rode through the craziness.

The festival is a celebration of Japanese-Canadian culture, and we got to experience a little of everything.  We started by perusing the craft booths, which included very cool origami art, hand-crafted tea sets and several sushi-shaped items like jewellery and candle sets.  We tried two Japanese items for lunch: a hot dog with seaweed, terikayi, and wasabi mayo (surprisingly good) and some dorayaki (sweet, bean-filled pancakes).  And we smiled at the few Japanese phrases we overheard and recognized from watching Sailor Moon.

Much like the Sawan Mela event a few weeks ago, the performances here were amazing.  The groups ran the gamut from contemporary (a Japanese-Canadian punk band was rocking out when we arrived) to traditional (featuring one set by the same duo we saw at the Ohanami in April).  We really enjoyed watching the taiko drumming group, whose members managed to combine precision with equal parts exuberance during every piece.

Sunday was the day of Vancouver’s infamous Pride Parade.  After walking around at the Powell Street Festival all day Saturday, staying up for fireworks that night and then completing our regular six-mile run on Sunday morning, we were looking forward to relaxing during this event.  Clearly, we had no idea what we were getting into.

The Pride Parade this year stretched out over 3 miles and took 3 HOURS to finish the route.  Not that this made it boring; oh no, it was 180 minutes of PURE PARTY.  We joined the spectators (estimated to be near 500,000) in clapping, cheering and dancing around as the participants and floats – with their live bands and blasting techno music – cruised by, rainbow-hued flags, banners and balloons flying behind.  The parade was brimming with a celebration of the GLBT community and sexuality in general; I absolutely loved it.

Mixed in with the requisite drag queens and scantily-clad twentysomethings were some unexpected faces.  Coming from the Midwest (where such participation is unheard of), I was pleased to see the number of political figures (current mayor, mayoral candidates, the local MP and the leader of a national party!) joining whole-heartedly in the gaiety.  And there was even representation by the firefighters, police, EMTs, Mounties and armed forces.  Canada, you kick ass.

Overall, the Pride Parade (and the weekend in general) left me with a feeling of pride for how welcoming Vancouver is.  But it also taught me an important lesson: next year, we are totally bringing chairs.

Last weekend saw the conclusion of Vancouver’s annual Celebration of Light.  This international fireworks competition is held over four nights (two Wednesdays and two Saturdays) every summer, with three countries competing for the top prize (and one night for the grand finale).  The fireworks are shot off a barge anchored in English Bay – an easy, five-minute walk from our apartment! – and attended by close to 500,000 people.  Each show lasts for 25 minutes and is set meticulously to music, thus making the biggest explosions all the more dramatic.

The 2008 teams represented Canada, the U.S. and China.  Canada ended up taking home the first-place prize (and we agreed their show was the most artistic), but China won the people’s choice award (probably due to the non-stop barrage of enormous, ear-shattering explosions that ran throughout their show).  We loved every minute of this experience and are already looking forward to joining the (insane) crowds again next year.

I was in seventh grade social studies when I first found Vancouver on a map.  It wasn’t by accident; I had recently noticed that my favourite show (and soon to be newest obsession) The X-Files was filmed there.  I decided then that someday, somehow I would visit that mysterious Canadian city.

It took many years (and months of planning) before I made it happen.  But in July 2001, I arrived in British Columbia for a ten-day tour with Ian, Shane and Amy in tow.  I had plotted out an extensive list of X-Files-related stops to find in Vancouver and its surrounding suburbs (thanks in large part to the book X Marks the Spot).  It was the ultimate treasure hunt for a bunch of X-Philes (read: nerds) on vacation.

We visited upwards of 100 locations in total.  At many spots, we staged re-enactments of the related scene(s), resulting in some pretty hilarious pictures.  Here is just a sample of the (embarrassing totally awesome) shots we took.

The trip far exceeded my expectations.  And somewhere along the way – it’s hard to say when or where or even why – I fell in love with Vancouver itself.  The city was attractive in ways that went beyond merely hosting my beloved television show.  I had never experienced anything like it. 

Perhaps I should have realized then how my life was going to change, but I didn’t.  It would require several more trips out west (and long, are-we-crazy? discussions) for me and Shane to understand just how much Vancouver had affected us.

So for those who have wondered how we ended up here, there you go.  It all started with a little television show and a middle-school student with big, dorky dreams.  How appropriate, then, that this weekly paper ended up on our doorstop within the first month of residing here.

It’s strange to think that, if not for these two characters, I might never have come here at all.  <cue X-Files theme>

After Shane heard back about the job last Monday, we started a week-long extravaganza of getting him ready (read: shopping) and cramming in as much fun (read: eating out and getting out) as possible.

On Wednesday, we biked over to Canada Place to see how long it would take him to arrive at work on two wheels.  It’s exactly 2.1 miles from our apartment garage to the Port door, which means he could easily bike it in 15 minutes or under (along the flat and scenic Seawall, no less).  Add in a secure bike cage right underneath his office, and you've got another sweet option for commuting (in addition to walking, driving and taking the bus).

We spent most of Thursday shopping along Robson Street, buying Shane a selection of – as he put it – “big boy” clothes.  He purchased a nice variety of dress pants, polos and button-ups to better fit in with the business-casual (biz-caz! just like Strongbad!) environment.  How he made it to 30 without these items in his wardrobe is anyone’s guess.

Friday we drove over to the North Shore again for some mountain hiking in Cypress Provincial Park.  Along one of the trails, we ran into a resident of the mountain (apparently there are close to 160 cabins in that area), and he suggested we try hiking to the top of Hollyburn Mountain.  We gave it a shot and made it within 2 km of the peak, but had to turn around due to time constraints and lack of proper footwear.  But we will be back to conquer the mountain one of these weekends!  (Without your ass, sandals!)

Friday evening, Ian drove up, and the three of us spent the weekend just hanging out.  It was a perfect, relaxing way to cap off a great week.  We went to see The X-Files movie too (but of course); it was terribly lame, but made me nostalgic for the good old days when the show was in its prime.  Stay tuned for more on that in my next post...

Guess what parking ramp Mulder runs through in the new X-Files movie?  Yes, that would be the SAME ONE Shane will be driving every day on his way to work.  (We “test drove” the route on Tuesday and therefore recognized it right away.)  Good times, good times.

A year ago today:

I turned 26.

I spent my birthday surrounded by friends and family – visiting huge potholes, a water park and the hot tub in my parents’ backyard.

I stood on the bluffs at Interstate Park and talked with Rory about my fear of heights.  We discussed our enjoyment in being barefoot as we walked around the potholes, shoeless.  He wore a red shirt, sunglasses, and that ever-present easy smile.

Two of my favourite people announced the impending arrival of their first baby.

Today:

I turned 27.

I spent my birthday surrounded by Canadian mountains and ocean – visiting Second Beach, Granville Island Public Market and (of course) Cupcakes with my best friend.

Talk of putting Rory’s ashes to rest commenced via Internet.

Joseph Charles Kirby Sexe marked another day of being a real (and really adorable) little boy.

Lesson:

It’s wonderful and sad and all-around astonishing how much our lives can change in a single year.  But here’s to making the most - of the good and the bad, the painful and the beautiful - in the next 365 to come.

We stopped in at the Sawan Mela festival last weekend.  It was held in the Punjabi Market area, an (East) Indian commercial district in southern Vancouver.  Considering that we’ve been able to bike, ferry or walk to many of our events, we viewed this as a Big Trip Out and took The Couv – even though the round trip was still under 20 miles.

There wasn’t much to do at the festival.  A few booths were set-up for food (roasted corn, curries, ice cream) and sponsors.  I did manage to score some free Timbits, aka donut holes from the Canadian donut giant, Tim Horton’s.  And Shane sampled some kulfi faluda, a pistachio, cardamom and rose-flavoured ice cream with soft noodles on top.  Yum.

Thankfully, the performances made our trek out there more than worthwhile.  Sawan Mela is billed as a celebration of South Asian culture.  So we got to hear traditional South Asian singers (one a duo of five-year-old twins) and watch of variety of South Asian dancers (including one who performed with fire).

My personal favourite was a dance group composed entirely of young boys (probably 8-12 years old).  Decked out in colourful green and blue robes/turbans, they jumped and twirled and kicked around stage with so much enthusiasm and energy, I couldn’t help but smile.  There’s something very rewarding about seeing children of any culture embrace their heritage so warmly.  (Especially on a breeze-less day as hot as that Saturday!)

I haven’t said much about our job search, mostly because I don’t want to jinx anything.  But the past few weeks have been very good for Shane.  He’s interviewed for some promising GIS positions, and he’s hopeful that something may fall into place in the next month or so.  (Now excuse me while I go knock on multiple pieces of wood.)

My job search, on the other hand, has been one step up from non-existent.  That step being that I’m applying for jobs, but nothing else is happening.

I knew going into this that I would be up against some stiff competition (an inevitable part of any creative field).  However, I had hoped that the higher number of production jobs in Vancouver (vs. MN) would work out in my favour.  I thought something would eventually stick.  But it’s been three months of looking (and a double-digit number of applications), and nothing is even looking sticky.

So.  How much longer do I hold out?  Financially, we still have wiggle room; if Shane does land a position soon, that will be all the more true.  But what about the mental and emotional toll it takes to be unemployed with exactly ZERO interest?  How much more of that can I – should I – take?

When I first graduated from college, I was gung-ho about finding a job in television production.  I scheduled upwards of 20 informational interviews with MN companies in the industry.  I built up a small network of people who knew my name and had my resume on-hand.  But after about six months of these meetings (and the monthly follow-up how’s-it-going BS emails), I started to get seriously burned out.  I was tired of listening to the repetitive advice of these contacts (some well-meaning, others just painfully self-important), and the introvert in me was exhausted by the toll of staying “in the loop” with all those people I didn’t know.

When an opportunity to go full-time at my part-time public access position came up, I jumped on it.  I was ready to be done with the fruitless searching and vague promises to “let you know if anything comes up.”

I don’t have anything to fall back on this time, though.  And I’m not sure if another round of networking would be worth my while, or if I’m even up for the level of schmoozing it requires.  Does that mean it’s time to settle for a job that would merely pay the bills (see: most recent place of employment)?  Change careers by going back to school (hi, graphic design)?  Become a reclusive writer/dog-sitter (maybe in my dreams)?

I don’t know, but I sure wish someone could tell me.  Or just hand me a winning lotto ticket already.

On Tuesday, we headed over to North Vancouver’s Lynn Canyon Park to do some hiking.  We’ve been to the park several times lately, as it houses a suspension bridge that is fun to show our visitors.  (Or so we assume.)  However, we hadn't yet taken time to explore the many trails in the area.

Hiking in North Vancouver – referred to as the North Shore around here – has long been one of our favourite activities.  Most of the parks in that area continue indefinitely, up into the mountains and beyond.  It doesn’t take long to reach the point where you hear nothing but the sounds of wilderness.  This makes every exploration a great nature escape in a way that urban locales, like Stanley Park (with its buses, trolleys, cars and float planes), can never quite replicate.

We decided to do an hour loop, heading down one side of Lynn Creek and up the other.  We first stopped at the 30-foot pool, a calm area where the rushing water collects in a deep, blue pool.  Since it was a nice day, there were several families cliff-jumping into the pool.  We ate a picnic lunch while watching the wet entertainment, then experimented by dipping our feet in the water.  Although it looked invitingly clear, it was FUCKING FREEZING.  I could barely take more than two steps before I needed to get out; I have no idea how those kids and parents were willingly submerging themselves in it.  (Are Canadians cold-blooded?  Did I miss the memo?)

From that point, we headed up a steep set of stairs to reach a wooden bridge that crosses the canyon and creek (a bit misleading of a name, as this is one powerful flow of water).  On the other side, we walked back along a narrow trail that switched between dirt path, stairs, ramps and wooden boardwalks.  It felt like we were touring someone’s enormous outdoor house, with awesome views of the rapids popping up along the way.  I would definitely walk that route again.

For a change of pace on Wednesday, we visited the Kits Pool in the Kitsilano neighbourhood.  This (human-made) outdoor pool is one of the longest in Canada.  At 137 meters, it’s about the length of 1½ football fields (read: tiring).  It’s also filled with entirely with salt water and HEATED, so we were eager (this time) to jump in.

The pool is located a stone’s throw from the bay, so we set up our towels and picnic supplies on the edge of the fenced-in area, right next to the ocean (with an excellent view of the mountains and downtown).  Then it was back and forth between swimming and lounging in the sun for the afternoon.  Not a bad way to spend a summer day, although it was a bit crowded with all the lap swimmers, out-of-school kids and sunbathers.  Such is life in the big city.

We really do feel spoiled by all our free time and deliciously warm weather that summer has brought to Vancouver.  While I certainly love this city in the rain, it’s a great to have the chance to get out and play in the sunshine as well.

July's banner this year is a salute to Canada Day as well as the seven-year anniversary of my first visit to Vancouver (on July 29).  As previously mentioned, that trip was called Camp Vancouver 2001.  It also had several rhyming taglines - the official one being “more dedicated than Attila the Hun,” but another being “a long way to go, but a whole lot of fun.”  And my, was it ever an entertaining endeavor.

I will have much more to say about that fateful vacation in a future post.  So consider this a warning to those who have never engaged in obsessive behavior: something dorky this way comes.