Vancouver, Part 2

Judy. So here we are, back in Vancouver, BC. Ted says we’ve come full circle, since we really launched our RTW trip from here. But this time it’s full summer, and we’re staying across the harbor in North Vancouver, a much quieter area, and for two weeks.

You may have heard about the forest fires in British Columbia, which have sent smoke as far south as Oregon. We experienced hazy skies and respiratory issues in Washington. Fortunately for us, rain fell the day before we arrived in BC, and the wind has blown the smoke away. Mornings and evenings are cool, and midday pleasantly warm. We are a 15-minute seabus ride across the harbor from Vancouver, and from the deck of our Airbnb on a hill, we can see the harbor and get ocean breezes. Beautiful.

Two days before we left Washington to take the bus here, and Terry and Sue hopped a flight back to Georgia, we moved to a quirky B & B in Tacoma. Tacoma was a really lovely surprise! Our B & B (name not mentioned to protect…) was a charming 90-year-old Italianate home in an older residential area. When we looked online to book, we found two rooms in our price range—perfect!  But when we called, we were told they were not available, but another room, and an unlisted room located on the third floor (“can’t put it on the internet because if there’s a fire, guests have to descend via a rope ladder”) were available. Uh, ok.  I guess that’s all right.

But when we arrived, and the host gave us a tour of the place, we were shown to the original two rooms we asked for. Later our host told us that his wife had the wrong page open in their reservation book, so the rooms actually WERE available. Whatever. They were nice rooms. There was a shady garden outside which needed some serious sweeping and removal of dead plants. When Sue turned the porcelain knob on her shower, it fell off and shattered, and was told, “Oh, the handyman was too busy building our grandchildren’s treehouse. I guess that’s why it didn’t get fixed.” Terry had no fork at breakfast—“Oh, I forgot to run the dishwasher!”

Still, we could laugh at the foibles and enjoy our evening.  We found the area charming; Ted and Terry located a local bar and brought us back snacks for dinner in the garden. Sunday morning we attended our respective churches, then headed to museums.

While the other three went to the Washington Historical Museum, I took on the Tacoma Art Museum.

I’ve never been a HUGE fan of Dale Chihuly’s work, but I do enjoy it. A Tacoma native, he donated many pieces to the museum there. It was lovely to see how his style grew and developed. I particularly liked his basketform and seaform work. There was also a magnificent collection of Western artists and of Northwestern Native work. I particularly liked a piece by a woman who was half-Indian, half-white. She used irregular Pendleton blankets as her canvas, and this piece, with black and white lines in the middle, expressed her feeling that she belonged in neither world.

But what stopped me in my tracks—pardon the pun—was an exhibit by Chinese artist Zhi Lin, called “In Search of the Lost History of Chinese Migrants and the Transcontinental Railroads.” Lin researched the stories of Chinese immigrants who came to California in search of gold—but laws were passed saying no Chinese could own a mine. So they did laundry, opened shops, and went to work for the Transcontinental Railway. They were paid half of what the whites were paid, given the hardest work, and when they tried to go on strike, were denied food. When the Golden Spike was driven in, they were fired and left destitute. In Tacoma, the Chinese community was driven out one night, their homes burned. They were put on trains and told never to come back.

Lin had several pieces in the installation, but the most powerful were three long paintings—simply blobs of color, with jacket fasteners painted across each blob. No faces, no arms or legs—just blobs to be used and discarded. Unfortunately, it’s an image that is repeated through the years: Hispanics, Irish, African Americans, and on and on. And that’s what I found horribly disturbing. We just never learn.

We’ve been in North Vancouver for three days. Yesterday we took the seabus to Vancouver and visited the stunning Queen Elizabeth Park. There’s a conservatory there, but we stopped first for a drink at the restaurant overlooking the city.

Magnificent views! After that, we decided to just walk the gardens in the park—for free! I just want the mind of the master gardener!

Today we went back to Vancouver to Chinatown, where we read the same immigrant story of the Chinese workers. We had a terrifically funky Dim Sum lunch at New Town Bakery in Chinatown—packed to the gills. We shared a table with two Hispanic workers who gave us suggestions of places to visit. Then we went to the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Garden, a beautiful recreation of a scholar’s garden, and learned about how principals of Yin and Yang were used to create a space that constantly surprises.

Vancouver is as cool as I remember.