An expat in Vancouver First impressions: Farmers Markets

Portland Farmers Market

Ah,summer. Finally. We’ve had one whole month of sunny, warm weather, with nary a semblance of rain. And summer in Cascadia summons up a hunger for luscious greens, berries and stone fruits. And where do we find these? At the Vancouver Farmers Markets.

I must say, these markets are a letdown. Thank goodness that they exist, and I frequent them regularly. There is nothing to compare with the freshness and taste of the food on offer. However, there are farms all around Vancouver, so why aren’t there more than a couple of dozen vendors at these markets? The 100 mile diet originated here! The Portland Farmers Markets are bigger and have a much bigger variety of products for sale. Even New York City, which is not particularly close to farmland, has a huge, bustling farmers market at Union Square.

To be fair, Vancouver is far enough north that the growing season is shorter and later. I’m still chomping into cherries that went out of season a month ago in Oregon. And this winter seemed to never end, so the markets might have had more than the normal challenge.

A new friend explained that the markets are relatively new, and still developing. In fact, farmers markets take years to build and strengthen. It took more than 20 years, but now the success of the Portland markets have transformed the city and culinary standards. They have built community and serve as public meeting places on the days they occur. Farmers get much-needed income, and are treated a bit more like the heroes they are. You see them start to experiment, with new flavors of jam, additional uses of goat milk and with the revival of heirloom crops with are so important to food security and biodiversity.

So that’s what we hope Vancouver has to look forward to in the next few years. We’re here to support the markets as they expand their size and influence. Meanwhile I have discovered that my two favorite markets are outside the city, Sundays in quaint Steveston and Saturdays in the mountain town of Squamish. In the former, I purchased the best strawberry rhubarb pie EVER. (Forks up, Sweet Thea.)

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie from Sweet Thea at the Steveston Farmers Market

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Small Town Murder Songs

Summer on the Bruce Peninsula

We saw this film at VIFF the other day. It was filmed in Ontario, during that part of the year where it seems to be always dark. The photography of fields and forests was arresting. Canada certainly has an abundance of natural areas that help tell a story whether in writing, paint, music or film. And there is plenty of creative talent here inspired by the abundance of unspoiled environments.

The best part of the movie to my mind, was the score by the band Bruce Peninsula, named after the stunning natural area near Georgian Bay.

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Guest post: An expat in Vancouver first impressions Weather

Kitsilano Beach awaiting sun and sun worshippers

BY DAVID PAGNI

Since arriving in Vancouver in January, we have soldiered through the bleak, rain soaked months, awaiting the sun of summer. Tic toc, tic toc, here it is the end of June and we’re still pacing the apartment, peering through the blinds and waiting. After living in Portland for sixteen years, another green (read: mossy) environment, moving to “Rain City” has supplied no great uptick to our vitamin D intake.  We’ve had just enough “sun breaks” in Vancouver’s procession of rainy or gloomy days to keep us from deep depression, but waiting for the sun has been as preoccupying as counting the days until getting a new puppy.

We are not alone. It seems the entire population here is spring-loaded, ready to throw itself outdoors at the first rays of sunshine. Since about June 1st, sandals, shorts and t-shirts have been the street dress code, despite the glowering clouds, pattering of rain, and temperatures in the 50’s (10-16 C.) Vancouverites seem to be group-willing the sun to shine.

On the rare days we’ve actually see the yellow orb in the sky, I’m convinced there have been several eye injuries, as people stand stupefied, staring skyward. Literally within seconds of the first rays, the bicycling population quadruples, strollers choke the sea-walk along Stanley Park and Burrard Inlet, and the beaches explode in a colorful display of bikinis, muscly guys, and all number of euphoric  men women and children playing volleyball, building sand castles, throwing balls to dogs and otherwise amusing themselves in utter appreciation for the sun. Business pow-wows move from board rooms to outdoor coffee shops. Gyms empty. Having a “sleeve” of microbrew at a street-side pub seems a brilliant idea.

Smiles abound. Moods lighten. The apartment elevator hums with residents carrying beach bags, sporting bike gear, or hustling their toddlers out to play catch. On these golden sunshine days, Vancouver seems to almost levitate with activity that exposes as much skin to the sun as possible.

So, even on late-June and early-July cloudy days, I’ll be out walking our dog, just hoping the overcast gives way to sunshine so I won’t miss a second of it. Vancouverites seem definitely to be creatures of the sun.

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Guest Post: An expat in Vancouver first impressions The Canucks

Vancouver during the 2011 Stanley Cup finals.

BY DAVID PAGNI

Until arriving in Vancouver, my only two hockey experiences were knocking my two front teeth through my bottom lip on a frozen Connecticut farm pond when I was about ten, and attending an extended brawl both in the stands and on the ice back when the New Haven Blades (AAA Hockey Farm team) were still keeping the emergency responders busy in the 1960s.

For better or worse, I’ve been a sports fan all my life and still lapse nostalgic for my letter sweater varsity glory days, so I feel pretty familiar with what makes partisan sports crowds tick, but have no real experience with hockey. When we arrived to live in Canada in January of this year, I thought “Canucks” was a derogatory term, that’s how clueless I was about the city’s great passion. Normally, sports are a pastime, but not here. Hockey is as vital to life in Vancouver as the carotid artery is to brain function.

From January through May, when the Canucks were rolling towards the NHL playoffs, more and more Canucks car flags, window signs, and player jerseys became evident, leading to a crescendo of team support and fevered passion when they reached the NHL finals against the Boston Bruins. Businesses routinely closed a half hour before game time with unapologetic windows signs reading “CLOSED at 4:30…. Hockey.” Canucks player jersey sales must be buoying the Canadian economy as it seems every other man, woman or child, even six-month old infants, are sporting the green and blue colors. The local Boston Pizza parlor has a sign taped across its marquee so it now reads “Vancouver Pizza.”

A beat up pickup truck with a ten foot high likeness of the Stanley Cup drives constantly through town blaring its horn, receiving applause and cheers and evoking a flurry of answering horn blasts. Talk in the pubs, barber shops, yes, even the hairdressers, grocery lines and doctors offices centers on the psychological state of Roberto Luongo or the justification for Alexandre Burrows’s finger bite. I’m amazed by the number of women who seem equally as nuts about hockey and the Canucks as the men. Our soft-spoken and diminutive neighbor, a model of decorum and grace, was absolutely gloating in the elevator the other day about Ryan Kesler burying some Bruin into the boards. Safety first: if you’re not a Canucks fan in this town, best keep it to yourself!

Win or lose Wednesday night, game seven of the Stanley Cup at Rogers Stadium in Vancouver will leave the city a ghost town from 5 PM to the horn, with only the joyous cheers or expletive deleted moans resounding throughout our apartment building and neighborhood as the game progresses. We don’t have to watch, just listen and keep mental score! Yep, this is a hockey mad place. Hockey flows through Canadian blood much akin to the way soccer is part of every Brazilian’s DNA. Like it or not, just breathing the air in Vancouver infects you with hockey fever. I might not know much about hockey offensive lines or penalty boxes but I know I’m getting that familiar set of butterflies in the gut just thinking about THE GAME tomorrow night! GO CANUCKS! (I’m hooked!)

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An expat in Vancouver first impressions: Crime

Newly-installed steel door to prevent further break-ins

On a visit to Ontario province years ago, I was instinctively alarmed to realize that my host left the house unlocked at all times. He allowed friends to walk in barely-announced. The house would remain empty, and open, all day. Generally, the door would remain unlocked at night.

Now, at that point I had lived in big cities all my life, and some very dangerous ones at that, so I found this situation unfathomable. Then Michael Moore’s film “Bowling for Columbine” showed a memorable sequence filmed in Toronto where he walks up to homes randomly and opens their unlocked doors to show the audience how free of fear people are in the city, sometimes saying to their inhabitants as he turned away, “Thank you for not shooting me.”

So Canada has a reputation, at least with some people, of being an anomaly of urban safety. The fact that gun ownership is much more restricted than in the US — handguns are banned — has something to do with that perception. It is the non-US.

Wrong. What many non-Canadians don’t realize is that there are a lot of firearms in Canada. It is estimated that one in 14 Canadian adults has a firearms license, and that many more own firearms without properly registering them.

Another Canadian friend once hectored me about how a particularly heinous violent crime “could only have happened in the U.S.” Sadly, that’s also just wrong.

The fact is that US and Canadian societies, despite their historical differences, evidently have a lot in common, for reasons that I’ll leave to the sociologists. While gun violence is low despite high levels of gun ownership, shockingly brutal crimes are committed here, probably as much on a per capita basis as in the U.S. This is just one of the latest to surface. If you have a weak stomach, don’t go for the details.

In fact, many Canadian cities are indeed quite safe, particularly east of Alberta.

And yet. In our first few days living here, my husband pointed out that even the cars parked in our condo building garage — which has two levels of barriers to drive through — have the Bat steering wheel locks installed. And true enough, there have been break-ins and car windows smashed in the garage. Locals advise us not to park on the street on a regular basis. Friends staying in swank Yaletown had all three of their cars broken into.

Vancouver is considered one of the most dangerous cities in North America. It is the fifth most dangerous in Canada.  There is much more crime in Vancouver than I had realized, beyond its problems with drug gangs and human trafficking.  Breaking and entering is high.

But when you look at the worst of the violent crimes, homicide, Vancouver pales next to Portland, Oregon. Vancouver had 9 homicides in 2010, Portland 29. (Portland’s population is is about the same of as Vancouver’s.)

Vancouver is not just big, it is a big PORT city, unloading a fair amount of unwanted and dangerous cargo. I know to stay out of the seedy downtown east side where drug deals go down. My car is emptied out every night before I lock it, as safely tucked away as possible in our building garage. There are areas I won’t go alone at dark, and have re-learned the lessons of living in New York — stay alert, know your neighborhood, make a habit of staying within populated well-lit areas.  We have a dog. And generally I don’t worry.

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