Its been a week since I came back from Vancouver. Since 2:40pm last Sunday when my airplane pulled into the Calgary gate, my life has been a haze. I haven’t written, simply because I haven’t been in the mood. I’ve been introspective to the point that I couldn’t even share my thoughts with myself. I mostly don’t even remember the past week, I’ve been dead to the outside world and dead to myself with exception to a quiet revolution growing withing me.

A week and a half ago on Thursday I walked outside of the hotel I work in with a backpack and a small carry-on sized suitcase. I sat outside the hotel smoking a cigarette thinking “I can’t believe I’m about to do this”. I was about to get on a bus to the airport and leave to Vancouver by myself. Not knowing a single person, not wanting to know anyone. I was getting away from everyone, everything and every stresser or emotional sentiment I know.

The bus slipped out of the downtown core and towards the airport as I stared at the window wondering what was ahead. I was clueless to what I would find.

The airport was the usual airport. There was a strange, quiet excitment brought on by hundreds of people, all going somewhere. All of them bound for an adventure. All of them excited to be leaving this hopeless city.

I love taking off on an airplane. Its a huge rush, even after the hundreds of plane rides I’ve taken. You slowly, for what seems for hours cruise along a runway at about the speed of a car. Then you stop, turn a corner, stop again. Before you know it you’re hurtling at 200km an hour along a runway. The world goes by faster than it ever seemed possible. This incredible run of the airplane seems to last for minutes, even though its only a few seconds. Just when you think that you’re about to run out of runway, the world drops out from under you. Its like going up an extremely fast elevator. I watch as I fly over my house and I can even point it out. I watch as the city disapears and all you can see is a patchwork quilt of farm land, seperated by the transcanada highway. A couple minutes later we’re over the rocky mountains and I spot banff. An hour and a half drive has just been done in less than five minutes. An eerie mist slowly, in almost a fairy tale like moment starts to form underneath the airplane and the mountain dissapear and I’m staring at the clouds from the top. I turn my attention to my magazine.

I spent about an hour flipping through my magazine, and looked out the window. I felt the sudden jolt of the plane beginning to fall. This part always gets me, and adrenaline fills my body before I realize that we’re simply beginning our decent into Vancouver. We fall towards the coulds that we’ve been looking down on for the last hour and are suddenly withing them. Landing in thick clouds is an interesting experience. You can physicaly feel that your falling at an immense rate, but when you look out the window all you see is white, no movement at all. An then like in a fairy tale, the mists disapeared and the City of Vancouver began rising towards me. A massive cities towered over by mountains and houses only ending where ocean begins.

The airplane landed and I followed the croud through the airport and towards the exit. I sat down waiting for the bus to my hotel, smoking a cigarette as I did outside the hotel in Calgary. Thinking, “Oh my god, I can’t believe I just did that” Spontaneously leaving to a new city where I don’t know a single person just isn’t like me at all. Fear set in. However, it began to rain the most beautiful rain. I have a love affair with rain, and this was the first time I had seen any since August. Actual rain in the middle of March. Back home it was cold, and snow was on the ground. Here, the flowers were blooming and the refreshing rains were warming my soul. The air smelt of ocean. I savoured the smell. I know that after a few minutes this smell is washed away by the smells of the city not to be smelt till the next time you visit.

I quietly stared out the bus window for the hour long ride, slowly watching the downtown core grow bigger and bigger, and the immensly sized mountain loom above the skyscrapers hold their dominant position. The city was so beautiful, just as I remembered it. Many, many bridges took us over the many vast inlets and rivers. We passed countless public gardens, already in bloom (To some blooming flowers in March is normal, for someone like me that doesn’t see this till may….its amazing). We passed the sight of expo 86, my first memory of Vancouver. We passed the hotel I always stayed in with my parents. We drove along the busy harbour, the most beautiful piece of water I’ve ever layed my eyes on. We arrived at my beautiful hotel.

My room was fifteen stories up and overlooked the entire harbour, with boats floating back and forth and the mountains growing out of the opposite shore.

I sat on my balcany and stared in awe. The beauty and the warmth, and calmess of the city always hits me like a brick wall. I’m always paralyzed by its energy for the first couple hours I’m there, and I can do nothing but stare.

I got off my ass eventually though and decided that it was time to take a walk and discover the gay bars. I discovered the city that night, simply by walking through it. The most common saying about my hometown Calgary is that its a big city, with a small town atmosphere. I discovered that this is just a euphamism for a large town that lacks any personality whatsoever. Vancouver was alive. You could feel its sould around you and the engery flowing in a breathing motion. The people were vibrant and not as stuck up and high on themselves as Calgarians seem to be. The streets at 11pm on a Thursday night were busier than Calgary’s streets at the busiest time of the day. The greatest thing was that you could feel that people were happy, and calm. It almost feels as though there isn’t a care in the world. Work is what you do so you can play….not what you do to impress your friends. Dressing stylish is what you do if you feel like dressing that way. Nobody exaults you for it, or puts you down for it. It takes awhile to get used to the beggers, but even the beggers there are great people. It was wierd walking down the street and seeing a high class women, stop and greet her old friend, the neighbourhood heroin addict. Nobody looked at you, nobody cared about you nobody spent their day judging every person they passed on the street. These are all staples of Calgary living.

The bars were nothing special, no different then the bar in Calgary, except for the fact that there are many many many gay bars in Vancouver. The most incredible fact being that they are all on the same street in Vancouver called Davie’s street. I was actually in a gay ghetto. Only three of these exist in Canada. Vancouver, Toronto, and Montreal. On this street I saw what gay life could be. Straight people walking comfortably among gay people (as opposed to Calgary, where I’ve seen many people jaws drop, or mad scrambles for a girlfriends hand at the sight of a gay person….in Calgary you just don’t show your alternative sexuality…the entire city is generally homophobic) I saw two gay men in track suits walking down the street pushing a baby carriage. I’ve never seen such a beautiful place in my life. I’ve never felt so comfortable. I realized that even in the bars in Calgary, people closet themselves, they don’t feel comfortable with their sexuality. They lack any self esteem, because in a city like Calgary, your sexuality is always used against you. Every government in the city, and province are always working against you. It is such the opposite here. Its true freedom. Or am I kidding myself?

These were my general views of Vancouver, and I spent my entire time simply exploring the city and relaxing at coffee shops, soaking up the incredible energy of the most densly populated city in north america (besides New York of course)

I felt more like Vancouver was my home in three days than I have in Calgary in 23 years. I was meant to live in Vancouver! This city is my style. That was the only thought on my mind as the airplane flew out over the pacific ocean and the mists grew underneath me during our turn towards Calgary. And as I saw the mountains disappear and the city of Calgary appear underneath me, a tear fell from my eye. I felt as though I had left prison on a weekend pass and it was time to return to my torment.

I’ve spent the week making finacial plans to move to Vancouver, depressed by the thought that its going to take months to get there. I’m going to do this though. Its the first time in my life I’ve told myself that I have a goal, and I’m going to finish it or die trying. I’ve given myself a deadline as well. I want to celebrate New years eve 2002 in my appartment in downtown Vancouver. It may take me longer to get there, but thats what I’m shooting for. My absolute deadline is one year from now. March 2002, I haven’t decided how to deal with my punishment if I don’t make it. I’m asuming I won’t need one. I’m leaving on a jet plane for Vancouver withing a year, and I don’t know when I’ll be back again. It will be the hardest struggle of my life. I need to make it on my own though, far away from any support system. I need to rip apart from my shity life, and create a new one in my favorite metropolis in the world. The most beautiful city in existence. The city voted the second best place in the world next to Geneva Switzerland…..

Vancouver….my future home….