Vancouver is a lover I slept with for nine months but barely knew. Once while walking on Broadway, Jen remarked how she loves the way he smells of barley and maple on windy afternoons. I glanced at her and acknowledged that I’ve never smelled his belly. My experience had been confined to UBC then home, with the occasional visit to NewWest and even more occasional visit to Vancouver Art Gallery. We moved together at the same time, yet she knew him more intimately. She could compose maps of his alleys on the back of her hands.
The last two weeks, I’ve been exploring Vancouver greedily. There are so many things in this city awaiting to be learned. On my morning commute to work, I watch old people in the park by my house do Tai Chi. They’re neighbours, I’ve never seen. Taking the downtown bus, and then, the sky train is equally interesting. Faces and the coffee cups they carry become familiar. The varieties of people I see are endless, in comparison to riding the 43 bus filled with students.
I have two more weeks before I start my second job and the weather is gorgeous. Back in January and February, I was ready to pack my bags and relocate. I’m glad I stayed and waited out the rain. It’s unusual for me to take nine months to get intimate with a place. Usually, when I move, I fall to the ground and let the grass stain my skin.
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1 comment:
Yay! I made it into your blog. I have finally achieved my sole purpose in life. Ha ha. I miss you. And I miss the city you speak of and our little place on the alleyway...
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