monkeycrap's Diaryland Diary
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Canada trip - Day 4
Day 4 - Close encounters of the weird kind
The crinkle-cut old man, as he wafted out of the Granville public market bakery satisfied with his purchase of a smoked salmon baguette, looked at me puzzlingly. He must've thought it weird that some chunky asian kid, backpack, caramel macchiato and all, was sitting down on a nearby bench, furiously scribbling down random stuff on his pink elektra notebook. It's the public market for goodness sake, not some world famous monument. It's the Singaporean equivalent of, say, Hill Street food centre. But yeah, that's what I was doing. Desperately trying, despite knowing that my furious efforts would prove futile, to capture that very moment, of the cold wind transporting the aroma of freshly baked quiches, of the bakery assistants heaving out loaves of foccacia layered with rosemary and drizzled with olive oil, of the burly angmoh dudes shoving crates of ice into the market via the delivery entrance. But of course, the moment loses its essence when, well, when the moment is gone. Our lives however, our stories, are made up of little scraps of faded moments, haphazardly plopped together. By writing, taking pictures, blogging, I guess I'm just doing my best to hang on to these little scraps, to prevent them from being blown into oblivion by the winds of change.
So after 3 days of sheltered training, I was to finally explore Vancouver on my own. Backpack, check. Maps, check. Guidebook, check. Important phrase? "Hey there, could you, like, show me the quickest way, to, like, getta (insert destination name)? Oh, thank you sooo much!" Check.
First stop, The Mound, Granville Island. The rounded hill, freshly mowed carpet grass, really reminded me of tellytubby land. Of course, the Canadian flag swaying in the wind's a little out of place. Canadian tubbies. Sounds cute.
Walked into the public market and was astounded by the varieties of fruits, bread, seafood, cheeses etc. It's like walking on the nutty professor's dining table or something. Something that amused me was that the public market had a first aid room at the end. For what ah? In case some little old lady faints after looking at the 'amount due'? In case some guy gets indigestion from koping too much free samples? I guess this is what they mean by social welfare.
Walked to the outside, along the pier, amongst the quaint little craft shops. I think their craft is to cheat tourists' money lor. Oh well, I guess that's their way of earning a living, no free lunches in the world right.
No free lunches, but there's free beer, according to Carrie. At the brewery. So I dropped in at 10.30 in the morning, hoping to nullify the macchiato caffeine, but it turned out that tours only begin at noon. Was so sad and disappointed that I had to drown my sorrows in Cypress Honey Lager, which I bought for a toonie. I also gulped it down in a toonie. Which, on hindsight, kinda explains how crossing Granville Bridge felt like walking on Capilano's suspension bridge.
The scenery that peeked out of Granville Bridge was beautiful, and seemed to get better as one inched closer to the end(maybe it's just the effect of the honey lager). The bridge provided stunning views of Yaletown and the bay, of downtown Vancouver and of course the mountains, snow topped ice kachangs intricately needleworked onto a baby blue canvass of sky. Once again I stopped, breathed, and took everything in.
It sounds cool, but total concurrence is another thing altogether.
So I kept on walking in my trusted nikes to Canada Place, the equivalent of Suntec City's Convention centre. Once again, the view of the opposing Lonsdale area and North Vancouver was lovely.
From there, I proceeded to explore Gastown and Chinatown. Eh Carrie ah, what do they call Vancouver's Chinatown in mandarin ah? I mean, if I were to ask some Chinese auntie in Vancouver 'zhen me qu niu che shui?', she'll probably give me a bottle of milk or something man. Anyway. Didn't spend too long there cos the idea of 'Chinatown' in itself, no matter which city, reeks of tourist trap and I didn't wanna spend too much time in one.
Personally, I think carrying a guidebook and map while walking around makes one look very touristy and, well, unglam, basically. I mean, might as well just slap on a straw hat, ring a camera round my neck and call me Ozaki Katsu. I'd rather be lost and walk in circles than to be seen like that. Which is incidentally how I ended up walking along the back lanes of East Hastings and Cordova. Really weird area. I remember literally LOL-ing when Carrie told me the mental hospital in the area closed down and they let the patients free in the streets. Can just imagine some Gandalf lookalike saying, "Now, my children, the hospital has closed down. You are now free! Go! Go persue your dreams! Go seek your destinies! Roam, children, ROAM!"
It felt weird walking there, it really did. A panhandler shuffled up to me with quivering wrists, apparenly druggie-code for 'Do you wanna buy drugs?' There was an old lady chomping on a red pepper like an apple, telling me that my time was running out. I'm like, yeah, time running out for your bowels la. Then there was another old man, what Naipaul would describe as "an inexplicable bit of human debris", calling everyone walking past him a 'piece of shit'. Which was an apt description for the aroma around that junction. Far cry from Granville bakery.
The thing is, if you think about it, these people are attractions too. People in large cars zip around the area along these streets, looking at them like zoo exhibits, and drive off feeling like they've experienced the inner-city, that they've felt the urban soul. I'm no exception too, of course. I wish I could say stuff like if everyone can do a little to help these people, they'd benefit etc etc, but at that point in time, looking at them, I could only feel a tinge of pity, feel as helpless for them as they probably are feeling about themselves, feel sorry for them for being encapsulated in the hopeless vicious cycle conceived by addiction, poverty, despair and insanity.
5:21 p.m. - 2006-05-25
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