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July 22, 2005

The two extremes

As you wonder around downtown Vancouver you can’t help but notice the extremes. The tanned, the beautiful, the crooked, the slightly deformed. Maybe that‘s why you notice the homeless that little bit more.

In the past three years, the number of homeless people has doubled, reaching levels close to 2,100. The contrast continues. Many properties in the city have doubled in price within the same period.

“Hey man, do you want to hear a poem?” came the voice staggering towards me. As much as I appreciated this unusual approach for money, I felt compelled to say no, after all, he could hardly speak let alone speak a verse of John Keates. As I walked away I was left wondering. What if I had said yes, what if anyone had ever said yes, I don’t think he would have known what to do.

Their shopping trolleys are their lives. Some are filled with clothes, others with half broken radios. As I walked around without direction, I looked down at my decaying shoes, plastic bags and ice cream spilt shirt, I suddenly realised that maybe I could fit in here, maybe I should learn some poetry.

Stanley Park is like no other. Originating in 1886, the park now consumes around 1278 hectares, flanked by water with views of Vancouver Island in the background. The parks epitomise the Canadian outdoor life ethos, providing an eight kilometre cycle or rollerblading track around the perimeter. I, of course, chose to walk it, taking two hours, delayed as I tried to avoid collision with moving wheels and diverting every time a gaggle of Japanese people decided to take another group photos next to the rubbish bin. Again.

Vancouver leads into little districts with their own distinct character, the unique architecture of Gastown, the strange and abundant smells of China Town. These smaller communities are flanked by the packed and shop filled streets of Robson and Granville, providing a melting pot of nationalities. The Chinese influence is particularly evident, much of the Hong Kong capital began to flow into the coffers of Vancouver in 1984, when the Sino-British Joint Declaration was signed and proclaimed the return of Hong Kong to China in 1997.

“Excuse me” a voice came from behind me. I stopped, instinctively. “Why thankyou for stopping, you see, most people don’t”. In my full vision I could see why. Presentable to a point, but with blurred vision and an exaggerated camp posture. “Now, I’m going to tell you a story…..” well he forgot to ask me if I wanted to hear his story, at least the poem man asked. “You see, two months ago I was diagnosed with HIV and, you see, I’m going to ask something very bold, but I must”. Fantastic, did he want my hand in marriage? Or maybe he thought I was some life saving doctor with a cure for Aids. “Would you spare some money so I can purchase some food in my last few days of life?”. It had been a long trip so far, but not long as this guilt trip. Making the signs as if I had no real money, I gave him the only coin I had, a one dollar. Somehow I doubt he had HIV. The look he gave me when I gave him only the one dollar suggested otherwise.

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