Week One: Vancouver

What a pleasant shock it was to arrive in vancouver, where it was sunny and warm for my entire visit. The very first thing I noticed was the mountains - i know, they're kindof hard to miss, but I was amazed by the incredible beauty and presence of the mountains which are SO close, right beside the city! I can see why vancouver residents are so into nature-based activities. When you wake up every day to the sight of those mountains, it's probably hard to resist the urge to escape to that dewey, grand wilderness.


The second thing I noticed was that my backpack was really heavy, and my bony hips were being rubbed sore. Damn it.

I was staying in a lovely old house in a richer part of town, and had the friendliest hosts! It was a bit bizarre, however, to stay with people; I felt compelled to inform them of my timetable (if I even had one...), my plans, etc. Not exactly the travel-independence I was looking forwards to. But it had its upsides; becoming a pseduo-regular at a local cafe that serves the yummiest italian lunches, having like-mided people to watch the oscars with, getting the local insider knowledge of the best cheap sushi place in town... the list goes on.

It was in vancouver that I spent a bit of time thinking about my philosophy of what-is-art after a conversation on that topic with one of my hosts, Michel. I told him that art, to me, is something that allows you to experience someone else's view of the world as if it were your own - it must open your eyes to a new perspective, one that you never before had even contemplated the existence of. Later that day as I walked around a lovely residential area in west-vancouver, I realized that travel is exactly the same thing. Does that make travel art? Lucky that I happen to be reading Alain de Botton's "The Art of Travel." Perhaps it will give me some answers.