Day 5- May 24, 2006 - Vancouver

Doug wants to move here- we've been sitting outside, people watching, trying to find him a nice Canadian girl to marry so he can stay in the country. It's friendlier and cleaner than New York (which isn't saying much, is it?) and everyone waits at the lights to cross the street. We cross on red, presuming the coast is clear and the glares we get from people make me believe there are strict laws about jaywalking and some Mounties will appear out of nowhere to cart us off for our misbehavior.

The money looks fake- of course this is my American response, )though I don't feel any more like one in Canada than I do at home.) I can't pretend to recognize the faces on the bills or coins. There's dollar and two dollar coins, which Doug says is standard in Europe too but is annoying to me and to avoid dealing with such complicated monetary adjustments, I've been using my credit card for everything.

Yesterday we got burgers at a place on Granville Street, which seems to be the Village of Vancouver- tattoo parlors, bars, alternative clothing stores, and a Rockabilly hair cutting place called "The Chop Shop". Doug says that it reminds him of St. Mark's Place, but it is clean and open and there aren't nearly as many (wannabe) punk rock kids hanging out along the sides.

We went to the art gallery today and that seems to be where everyone hangs out- the stoners and squatters- on the steps out front and behind. The museum itself was disappointing- half was Native Canadian (I wrote American the first time, but am correcting it now) which surprised me a bit. The other half was architectural stuff- models like Erica builds with chipboard and basswood. She would have enjoyed it, but it's not anything I'm particularly interested in.

We walked around a ton- there are bears all over- statues like the horses or whatever it was we had scattered around the city. All cities do this with some animal, Doug says, but I can't remember ever noticing it anywhere before. He says I don't notice enough, went on and on today about how writers need to observe everything and I wondered if I am not really a writer after all because I only notice some things- the things that call out to me, the things that are impossible to miss.

The place- Roxy's- we ate last night had leopard print panelling on the walls and a font of an old Chevelle that said something I can't remember. They put mayonaise and mustard and ketchup on the burger, called the check the bill, and had a hockey game playing on no fewer than 8 TVs throughout the place. At every goal and every save, there were appropriate responses from the restaurant patrons.

We woke up early today and were out by 9:30, the 3 hour time difference helping and we went to eat a place down the block. Our hotel is in the middle of most everywhere we want to be and across the street from a Starbucks and some cafes we have yet to explore.

We walked down Robson Street this afternoon, which I guess is the 5th Ave equivalent shopping strip. We didn't get anything except coffee while we were there, but went back tonight to eat at a place- Moxie's, because Doug is rhymy- where the hostess told us she always wanted to go to New York when we told her where we're from.

Before we knew where we were going, we walked through Yaletown, the trendy area that has lots of restaurants we probably can't afford- I guess it's like SoHo, if I have to compare it to something, which I of course don't, but will anyway. There's a pastry shop there that we wanted to eat at but it was closed by the time we got back- we'll go tomorrow.

We spent a while sitting out front across the street from the public library- a colliseum like structure in the middle of the entertainment district (or more towards the edge of it). For as much as Doug loves the place, I think I would get bored here after a couple weeks- it doesn't seem like theres a whole lot to do, not without a car anyway, and I have not even taken the first step toward figuring out the public transportation system. I'm trying to see what he fell in love with so immediately about the place and I get that it's clean and safe and generally nice, but I can't imagine things here being better than home.

My legs are sore from all the walking we've done. It's late, almost 11 here and I don't know hoe quick I'll let my body adjust to Pacific time. Doug is planning our day tomorrow, totem poles and a place called Dead Man's Island, which is fine. I'm not sure I'd know what to do with myself to fill the days here since it seems to be a lot of the same.