Loving Vancouver

 It was love at first sight.

I have known from childhood that Vancouver was a place I definitely wanted to visit, if only to see the colourful leaves that its trees produce in the fall. I saw a picture of those autumn leaves at the Readers Digest when I was about nine years old, and I was amazed. Leaves could do that?

I arrived in Vancouver for the first time in the summer of 1988. Having worked in Singapore for three years before that, I wasn’t too impressed with the mellow pace of life in North Vancouver, my first destination. Buses were scheduled in 15-minute intervals on weekdays, and every half-hour on weekends. In a community called the British Properties where very rich people lived, buses only went up once in the morning and once in the evening.

In Singapore at the time, waiting for a bus didn’t take as long, even in the suburbs.

It rained consistently in Vancouver in the fall of that year. In fact, I remembered that it rained or got cloudy every day in the autumn, for the next two or three years after. I’d never seen so much rain in my life. The leaves went from green straight to brown and then fell off, skipping the part where it was supposed to go yellow, orange or red. I saw however, that leaves did change colours back east. I felt so cheated.

Going to school in the evenings wasn’t easy either. It could take several bus rides to get to the classes I wanted, and waiting in the bus stops took the same amount of time as what I spent attending those classes. I got back home from school well beyond my bedtime.

I realized that if I wanted to do things faster, riding the bus wasn’t the way to go. I learned to drive in the same year, and by the start of my second summer in Vancouver, I was already driving a second-hand car. The ease and speed with which I could acquire a car, something that had seemed impossible in the Philippines and in Singapore, was a revelation.

Having my own ride gave me the freedom to chase the rest of my plans with amazing ease: going back to school, doing volunteer work, visiting places, getting a new job. That was when I finally fell in love with my new home country. Suddenly, Vancouver became to me a place where dreams are easier to reach, if one had a plan, coupled with self-confidence and the ability to work hard and see things through.

Despite the inherent racism within, Vancouver is still a great equalizer among peoples. What diverse community, by the way, whether openly or subtly, does not suffer racism? It’s the way one deals with racism that matters. Being smart and educated alone in a strange place does not cut it. Having the right attitude did. I knew that by having brown skin and speaking English with an accent, I might have to work doubly hard to prove myself. Speaking up and standing for oneself helped as well. So that’s what I did.

In Vancouver, I learned that being different is a strength in itself. So she’s white and you’re brown and he’s yellow, but it doesn’t really matter. Having the courage to resist blending in and to pursue your own interests gives a person a different kind of freedom. For an artist or a writer, especially. Finding your very own voice in a community already teeming with a multitude of different voices, and believing in that voice gives you an edge. It’s really up to you to decide where that difference will take you.

In Vancouver, where nature lurked in almost every back yard, I learned to hike the mountain trails, walk in the woods, camp by the lake, and picnic by the beach. (The first time I was invited to go for a walk, I had to ask why. Back in my rural village in the Philippines, one only walked for important reasons - to gather firewood or fetch water or do an errand. Otherwise, one stayed home and read, or do chores. I was told that down here, one can walk just for the joy of walking.) I’ve become a dedicated walker since.

In Vancouver, I learned that being different is a strength in itself. So she’s white and you’re brown and he’s yellow, but it doesn’t really matter. Having the courage to resist blending in and to pursue your own interests gives a person a different kind of freedom. For an artist or a writer, especially. Finding your very own voice in a community already teeming with a multitude of different voices, and believing in that voice gives you an edge. It’s really up to you to decide where that difference will take you.

So yeah, I love Vancouver. I love its weather, its people, its diversity, its bike lanes, its mountains, its parks, its beaches. I love that people are mainly tolerant of others, that animals are loved and protected. I love the city, despite its expensive housing market, its homeless population, even its seedier corners. It all belongs with the territory.

What I love most about Vancouver is the fact it helped me grow and test my limits. It allowed me to help my family and encourage them to strive, in ways that were better than I ever could.