finally, a ray of sun

It's finally sunny outside!














The view from my kitchen window, this evening at around 6pm.

I didn't realize how starved I was for sun until today. As soon as I got home, I literally jumped out of my typical attire (jeans, long sleeved shirt, sneakers) and into a sundress that I wore all the time in Montreal during the summer. I smiled all the way to and from the grocery store. My apologies to all of the sullen people I passed by, who probably thought that I was a bit unhinged. Sunlight tends to make me a little more exuberant and giddy.

Another sunny day is forecast for tomorrow- I am going to try going to try venturing out to Wreck Beach.

snapshots from vancouver

Epic battles on the dining table.







































The aftermath.













Coffee, books, and newspapers.













The Jem Gallery on East Cordova Street.
















































Lunch with my mother.

comings and goings

This is a mural overlooking a parking lot next to the First United Church on East Hastings and Gore Street. The inscription at the top left corner reads:

It takes knowledge to understand others, but it takes a clear mind to know oneself. It takes strength to surpass others, but it requires a strong will to surpass oneself. - Lao Tsu

It reminded me of someone in Montreal.

I recently made a new friend who works at a shelter in the Downtown Eastside. As with many of my friends, Jason is one of those people who tends to help others to the point where he forgets his own needs.

After an underwhelming lunch at Britannia Sushi on Commercial Drive, Jason drove me down to Stanley Park. I think it's already been two years since I was last there. We hung out at Prospect Point for a little bit, chatting.









































There were so many people and things, coming and going. It made me wonder which way I would be going this summer.

daily rituals

Every morning after breakfast, I sit down at my desk and check my email on my laptop. Then, I load my news for the day on my iPod touch. It struck me that before coming to Vancouver, reading mobile news was never a part of my daily life. The big difference between my lifestyle in Montreal and here is the amount of time I spend on public transit- namely, the bus. During the 20 minute commute to the UBC campus, I find myself no longer listening mindlessly to music, as I did in the first few days of classes. Instead, I read about wars in distant places, housing problems in Canada, and North Korea's latest provocation- all on a screen the size of my hand.

I can't say that I am completely seduced by this paperless trend, though. The evidence: a pile of books on my desk, lined up and ready to be read:













I've only begun to read Anthony Lane's Nobody's Perfect. Lane has been a film reviewer for the New Yorker since 1993, and the book is a collection of his reviews. While that may sound rather unappealing to read, Lane's wit and sincere (for lack of a better term) approach to writing about films continues to pull me through this book.

What's on your bookshelf?

going the distance

Couples on the bus usually make me smile, but these days I try hard to avoid looking at them. I look out the window, and blast whatever is playing on my iPod to drown out my thoughts.

I am currently in a long distance relationship with a boy in Montreal. He will be there for four years for his studies. I will be here in Vancouver for two years for my Masters, and then go anywhere I can find a job. His life is one of stability, and mine is one of uncertainty. In fact, uncertainty is a common theme in my life. I have always been uncertain: about who I am, and where I will end up. In a way I really enjoy this uncertainty; that life can be a great adventure filled with twists and turns, and novel experiences. And being uncertain does not mean that I don't know what I want, either. I know what I want to do with my life, and why. It's a matter of where I will end up physically that is the uncertain, and exciting part.

In the last few days, I have been thinking about the point of continuing a relationship with someone with whom there is no certain future. Is it purely a matter of compromise? Compromises can be made day by day, week by week, month by month. But what is the use of compromise when the end result is so unclear? I love him, but I don't know if all of this is worth it.

There's no answer for this one.

scenes from the city

Have you ever heard of "beat blogging"?

Me neither. Not until I came to journalism school, anyway.

My first assignment is to write about a neighborhood in the Metro Vancouver area (my "beat") on a designated blog, called the Thunderblogs. I chose the Downtown Eastside, an area of Vancouver that you may or may not have heard about. In brief, it is the poorest urban postal code in Canada. Most of the poverty and drug abuse goes on at East Hastings street.

There are five blog entries due by September 26. So far, I've done one, about an Aboriginal hip-hop/media showcase called Beat Nation.

[As a sidenote, If I had $5 for every link in those last few sentences, I would have enough to pay for my lunch date next week with my mother at this swanky place downtown. If you counted the one I posted just now, I could treat myself to a beverage involving steamed milk and espresso at one of the numerous Corporate Coffee chains in this city, as well. Conclusion: having no money breeds whimsical yet pointless sidenotes in blog entries.]

Last week, I walked around the Eastside to orient myself with the neighbourhood. Keep in mind that all of these photos were taken on my LG phone circa 2008.














The back of an apartment building, from East Hastings street.














A beautiful mural overlooking a community garden.














A run down housing unit.


















In addition to its ironic name, the Regal Place is located right across from the street from the Woodwards Building, a historic landmark that was long abandoned- that is, until Vancouver was announced the host city for the 2010 Winter Olympics. Then came the face lift from real-estate developers. I wish I had taken a photo, but it was too dark outside. Needless to say, it is no longer the decrepit, old-fashioned building I remember. It took me a few minutes to realize while walking past its gleaming glass facade that it was, in fact, the old Woodwards building.

So there you have it- right on West Hastings Street. The spatial and physical embodiment of the stark contrasts you can find all around this city. One one side of the street, the Regal Place. On the other, a newly renovated condominium and commercial complex where squatters used to huddle to shelter themselves from the relentless rain.

Now there's one thing that hasn't changed since I left.

on new beginnings

It was the first day of classes. I looked down at my watch: 8:57 am. My first class was set to begin in 3 minutes. I quickened my pace, breathing in the heavy, damp air. The sky was a molten gray.

In my hand was a piece of paper with my class schedule. Integrated Journalism, Media Law, and Creative Non-Fiction. Integrated Journalism was up first at 9 am. Or was it? I looked down again. No, now it was Media Law. But how could that be? And why didn't I bother writing down the room numbers?

I now had 2 minutes. My heart began racing, and I broke into a light jog just as a cloud broke and released its first droplets of rain.

I woke up in a panic.

It was the morning of August 28th, and I had three days left in Montreal. Three days left in a city that I called home for the last four years. Three days to say goodbye to all of the people that I love. To the people who helped me build myself back up when everything inside broke down.

During our last lunch together, my friend Emil and I talked excitedly of our future plans. Plans to backpack the Jeju Islands in Korea. Begin an independent magazine together. Become BBC international news correspondents. That afternoon, the world seemed ours to seize. It was only a matter of time before we were reunited.

Today marks two weeks since I arrived in Vancouver. The days have slipped by--a blur of furniture, bookstores, and classes. Like most of my anxiety-fueled dreams, the one I had turned out to have little prophetic value. If anything, journalism school has re-ignited my passion for learning, and curiosity about the world.

I hope to harness this reinvigorated curiosity toward reflecting on my life in Vancouver- this strange new city that I cannot yet call home. My heart is still letting go.