Casting Ourselves in Our Vancouver Roles

On Sunday morning when we opened up the curtains of our room in Vancouver, the low-hanging clouds banks had dispersed, leaving patches of blue and sunlight over the glass towers along the waterfront. It had been fun to see the city in its rainy glory, but we were glad for a break on our second. For the first time in our visit, we could see the nearby mountains, which gave the city its dramatic setting.

Red was still a bit under the weather, but felt well enough to accompany me out on an extended walk to explore downtown. We started with breakfast at the White Spot diner a couple blocks away from the Bayshore Westin. Evidently the White Spot chain is a local landmark.

As we crossed Georgia Avenue, it was clear that the wide avenue was being blocked off for the start of a Christmas parade. I told Red it's a knack I have, of arriving in places just in time for a parade, sometime almost driving right into the line of floats by accident, as I did last year in Santa Barbara.

After breakfast, we gave ourselves a workout, threading along the waterfront to the convention center, then riding the subway a few stops to Chinatown, which looked and smelled like every Chinatown everywhere in the world. Then we looped back through the hip neighborhood called Gastown, where we indulged in Nutella lattes. By this time, Red was feeling into need of some remedies, so we caught the subway again, this time over to the Olympic Village, where we navigated the bustle of Broadway and chaos inside the local Whole Foods. Red said the prices were about 30 percent higher than in the U.S.

It was a splendid tour of the variety offered by downtown Vancouver, although at the cost of tiring out Red (and over my mild objections).

As such by the time we got back to our hotel room, around dinner time, there was no question of going out again. We both agreed room service was in order, so we phoned up to get a pair of bacon burgers and french fries delivered up to our room. The young waiter brought them in under round metal covers. When we came in the room, we were watching the late NFL game on the NBC affiliate out of Seattle, which is carried on the local cable network along with the the other Seattle stations.

"Football and burgers," he said, in a Canadian accent, setting down the tray by the window. "Sounds perfect."

It felt decadently American amidst the Canadian-ness around us. While we dined on our burgers, outside our window the glass towers along the waterfront gleamed up and down, lit up in little orange-lit squares of the apartments there with their curtains over as well.

At that moment I felt as if we were all characters in some giant Cityscape theater set, all of us in our glass display booths up and down our respective towers, eating dinner, watching DVDs, etc. What could be more Vancouver than that?