Some observations on Vancouver.
There are more dogs than people in this city.
A person's salary can largely be determined by the type of coffee he or she drinks. The sliding scale runs from Tim Hortons, to Starbucks, to rest at Antigua, which boasts a $200 cup, if you're so inclined.
Despite the strike that is running into its seventh week, the streets are exceedingly clean. And that is because all the city's litter is being dumped into the downtown eastside.
People here have disturbingly low BMI's. I am beginning to suspect that Vancouver ships all its overweight citizens out onto islands somewhere, along with the garbage that overflows from the downtown eastside.
People who pass you on the street at 6:30 a.m. as you trudge your way to school smile at you with toothy, soul-penetrating smiles that make you feel strangely violated that early in the morning.
Stores have insultingly obvious names, such as moMENtum, for a males-only spa.
Everyone is blond. Everyone is always discussing his or her existential crisis while simultaneously balancing a cup of non-fat-mocha-latte-extra-tall-extra-hot-extra-extra-blah-blah-do-I-sound-cool-yet-do-I-do-I, while stretching into the downward dog position on his or her LuLu yoga mat. Everyone has a gay best friend.
Oh. And I saw two complete heads of hair lying on the pavement as I crossed the Burrard Street bridge the other day. I'm not entirely certain how that fits in with anything, but there it is.
2 comments:
Ah, so you've arrived, then. It certainly is west, isn't it? :)
Oh, Vila. It sure is.
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