1223 days

vancouverism

allow me (google) to set the stage:

vancouver, a bustling west coast seaport in british columbia, is among canada’s densest, most ethnically diverse cities. a popular filming location, it’s surrounded by mountains, and also has thriving art, theatre and music scenes.

it’s also my home. or, so it was, for the 1223 days between 737177–738400.

it’s a city of intent, where 27 conical view corridors (blue, above) were established in 1989 as a way to ensure that the mountains and sea aren’t blocked from sight by skyscrapers¹. admittedly, that isn’t a factoid i had handy until several minutes ago. but it comes as no surprise.

san franciscoism?

in january of 2023, after throwing familiarity and a lot of very special people to the wind, i became a canadian non-resident and a wide-eyed san franciscan². the move stemmed from (and was enabled by) a job change from biopharma to biotech. and the goal: a new adventure, a pay increase, and a bump to my quality of life as i ditched a technologically challenged ex-boss.

after a few months of observation, fog city seems to follow a different philosophy than raincouver. some numbers (all given as per day):

• 5000: the number of used needles discarded
• 65: the number of calls to the “poop patrol”
• 52: the number of vehicle break-ins
• 0: the number of protected view corridors

tap your heels together

alternate title: you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.

don’t get me wrong, vancouver isn’t all sunshine and rainbows (see nickname above). it’s not the first place i’ve lived, or even the place i’ve lived the longest. but as i settle into life in the indispensable nation, i find myself missing the rain. and the yogis. and the relative paucity of street feces.

end with a cliffhanger

so now that i’m back, why doesn’t it feel like home?