Arrival in Vancouver, BC, Canada

Entrance into Gastown

I found the Days Inn that I had picked out—it was downtown and close to many of the sites—but I had no idea where to park, so I pulled over in front of the hotel even though it was a no-parking zone. I had the motor running and my right turn signal was on, while my dad got out, running in and asking where to park. After waiting a while, getting honked at and feeling really awkward, finally I turned the ignition off and figured Dad was getting a room. I was correct.

He returned with two hotel keys (room 706) and a little map clearly showing where to go in order to park in a parking garage. I followed the map and parked—what a relief to get out of the car and have a parking place, to no longer be driving! The parking garage was about six blocks from the hotel.

The hotel is somewhat posh, and the room costs twice as much as I expected from the travel book: $200 a night. It’s posh, but not that posh.

Street scene a few feet from the parking garage

Tonight:

We wandered around the neighborhood and had dinner at a fancy Mediterranean restaurant (I had a veggie deep dish with no cheese—it was a lot like pizza, in a porcelain boat containing a thin layer of crust topped with a mixture of sizzling hot artichokes, spinach, mushrooms, eggplant, and tomato). Meanwhile, the restaurant was straight across the street from an antique store called Dorian Rae Collections (not to be confused with Dorian Gray)—breathtaking standing Buddhas and other Buddhist art in one big window and African art in the other.

While we were eating, we suddenly heard drums, and I said, “It sounds like a parade.” My dad was at a better angle and saw people standing on the sidewalk and watching something…and next thing you know, there a parade of protestors marching down the middle of the street—banners and signs—and followed by two police prison vans. My dad was convinced that they took the protestors to jail. According to our server and the hotel’s front desk clerk, these protests happen all the time in Vancouver. I later remembered that it is Beltane, also known as May Day, which has a tradition of working class and socialist protest.

After dinner, we took a walk, particularly around Gastown. We crossed the intersection where we could see the building topped with sails and the ocean and the misty mountains in the distance. In the distance we saw a huge red W high up on a building, so we kept walking in that direction. It had seemed closer. We eventually came to a square with a lower gigantic red W. It stood before a building that contained businesses down below and apartments (or was it a hotel?) up above. Nearby was a brick building with paintings lining the wall, and a short distance away was a brick wall covered with murals and graffiti. We continued to wander around the old brick streets of Gastown, which is predominantly Edwardian, with beautiful old architecture and many closed antique stores (we peered in the windows) and open tourist shops.

Best of all in Gastown is the amazing steam clock. Very steampunk. When we got there, steam rose out of the top, and through the glass sides we could see little metal parts moving. A bearded guy in a raincoat was talking to tourists, and he explained to us how the steamclock works—it’s not powered by steam but by the weight of metal balls that periodically, gradually, move. Every quarter of the hour, the clock chimes. I mentioned the brick streets—they’re also narrow as you’d expect given their age, and often separating the sidewalk from the street are iron railings, or rather black metal spindles attached with black metal chains.  

A few beggars accosted us near the entrance to Gastown and in the gorgeous red brick train station. My dad was kind of freaked out about them. He should go to India. I believe I pointed out to him that in India you’re surrounded by beggars, many of whom are children, and that they’re often lined up.