Gibsons: the good, the bad and the ugly
I went to Gibsons with Po this weekend. I will confess that I was somewhat apprehensive given the forecast: buckets of rain. Plus, I was in a pretty big funk over my botched relationship with M still, and I guess I preferred the idea of sitting at home and obsessing about it, interspersed with bouts of beating myself up mentally, which would likely culminate in my arriving at the conclusion that I am worthless to society overall. At which point I would I would quaff copious amounts of wine and randomly ask people to marry me. Will you marry me? I knew that, for my mental health, I should get out of town for a while.
I picked Po up around 9:20 on Saturday morning: we were going to drive to Michael's place in North Van and then he was going to drop us off at the ferry and pick us up the next day. Why would he do this, you might ask. Yeah. No kidding. All ex-boyfriends do this, don't they? Anyways, Po and I were way early, so we grabbed some breakfast at a Starbucks near Michael's place and took notice at how everyone moves at a slower pace in Lower Lonsdale. I'm not knocking it at all. I had a recent experience at (one of the two) Starbucks in Kerrisdale whereby my coffee was spilled, it was so busy that we moved outside, and some ass hat felt it was his mission to ruin some poor barrista's life. He was upset because his cappuccino had been so hot that he'd had to "spit it on the floor". Wow, the coffee you ordered was hot? That's a real mind fuck. Don't the cups actually have a disclaimer on them? Anyways, that little trip to my local Starbucks practically ruined my morning by putting me in a bad mood. In North Van? Not so much. Everyone is relaxed and low key and kind of normal. There were many places to sit. People seemed to not be in a caffeine induced hurry. It took me a while to adjust to the slower pace of life: for a moment I thought that they were all involuntarily sedated or something.
We picked up Michael, made our way to the ferry and soon we were on our way. I bought a scone, it was actually pretty decent. We caught the bus to Gibsons which was only 20 minutes away, though for some reason I thought it would be an hour. I also thought we would have to fight to get on the bus. I really need to remember that not all places are like Vancouver, land of the harried individuals that are perpetually lining up for something.
Our "cabin" was awesome. It was probably eight or nine hundred square feet: two bedrooms, full bath and kitchen, huge living room, enclosed sundeck. Sweet. We put our feet up upon arriving and enjoyed the twenty minutes of sunshine that was available to us all weekend. Po had a glass of wine and then wanted to nap. No napping! There was the downtown core to explore! We had to go to Molly's Reach and indulge in some nostalgic Canadiana. We did this. It didn't take very long. Then we napped. Then we got up and watched "The Break Up". Those of you that know and love me know that I hate all things Hollywood. This was actually really good movie. For anyone that has ever made a comment to their significant other along the lines of "I want you to want to do the dishes": you should rent this movie. Then we went back to bed.
The next day it was absolutely pissing. Po made a comment that sitting in the enclosed sundeck was like being in a car wash. Yes, it was. It was still enjoyable to sit in this veritable car wash and gaze out at the harbour and not hear: ringing cell phones, car alarms, cars with ridiculous mufflers, or humanity in general. I hate humanity. Kidding. Kind of.
We wandered back into town to have breakfast at Molly's Reach. Popular place: we had to sit at the bar. The owner of the B&B said that he would give us a lift to the ferry later in the afternoon. I was pretty sure he was going to murder us and dump us in the ocean. We went to a coffee shop (where we would see a BC Ferries employee that would later turn up on the... BC Ferry that we were on) and mulled over the Globe and Mail. God, I love the Globe and Mail. Indulge me for a moment, but here are the articles I was happy to read: one about the addiction of email; one about architect Daniel Libeskind; and a column by my hero Rex Murphy about what an environmental midget Jay Leno is. I was soooo happy. And then I started to decide that I didn't want to return to Vancouver. I wanted to stay in Gibsons, live cheaply, take whatever job I can that will pay the bills, become involved in my community and be granted the opportunity to start over again. I started having a freakin' midlife crisis at Truffles in Gibsons at 1pm on a Sunday afternoon. I can't describe it as much more than that. I now have a bee in my bonnet. A big, angry, buzzing bee.
I want to take a break. I want to enjoy a slower pace. I don't want to worry about dating, relationships or my physical appearance. I want to develop relationships with other humans within my community. I don't want to meet people on line. I want to live in a place where people say hi when you pass them on the street. I want to have dinner parties and friends dropping over all the time, because that's what a social life is. I want to shovel my elderly neighbour's driveway. I want to write a book.
It is plausible that I can live this sort of lifestyle in Vancouver (tempered somewhat, obviously), but as great as Vancouver is, I don't think it is conducive to what I'm looking for. What am I looking for? Some kind of break. A natural pause. A sabbatical. I don't know.
I had a very, very illuminating time in Gibsons. Almost detrimentally so. What am I supposed to do now? I will drag my ass to work tomorrow. I will not discuss any of the light bulbs that went off in my head with any of my coworkers. I will stand in line at Tim Horton's. I will stand in line for the bus. I will get home as I always do at 5:45 and then I will run for an hour to maintain my level of fitness, but more importantly to exhaust myself so I don't have to think so much. I will say hi to my neighbours, whose names I don't know. I will continue to read my John Irving novel and love it, while hating and being envious of his skill. I think I'm in a holding pattern. I told my mom that I felt overwhelmingly depressed today. She said "well, you'll feel better tomorrow".
Michael spent the day with me today. He could tell that I was depressed. He didn't say it, but after being with me for six years he knew that I didn't want to be left alone. I didn't ask him to spend inordinate amounts of time with me, but he did. We walked throughout Coal Harbour and downtown Vancouver. I bought a book on Art Nouveau. I love Art Nouveau. I told him how stupid I felt about M and he said I am too hard on myself. He's right. I'm going to let it go now.
Here's what I want. I want to move to Gibsons, into a beater house, with Michael. Between working on my book and his architectural endeavors, we'll renovate and flip the house. We'll be on a first name basis with the staff at Molly's Reach. I can kayak on the weekends. Friends can come and visit us for the weekend and go away, amazed by how happy and relaxed we are. I'll put that on my to do list, which is thus far comprised of: taking my car for regular maintenance; sending post dated cheques to my new landlord; getting my British citizenship; buying a new couch; putting Po's art behind glass; running a half and a full marathon; cutting out carbs; reading more philosophy; writing a book....
I picked Po up around 9:20 on Saturday morning: we were going to drive to Michael's place in North Van and then he was going to drop us off at the ferry and pick us up the next day. Why would he do this, you might ask. Yeah. No kidding. All ex-boyfriends do this, don't they? Anyways, Po and I were way early, so we grabbed some breakfast at a Starbucks near Michael's place and took notice at how everyone moves at a slower pace in Lower Lonsdale. I'm not knocking it at all. I had a recent experience at (one of the two) Starbucks in Kerrisdale whereby my coffee was spilled, it was so busy that we moved outside, and some ass hat felt it was his mission to ruin some poor barrista's life. He was upset because his cappuccino had been so hot that he'd had to "spit it on the floor". Wow, the coffee you ordered was hot? That's a real mind fuck. Don't the cups actually have a disclaimer on them? Anyways, that little trip to my local Starbucks practically ruined my morning by putting me in a bad mood. In North Van? Not so much. Everyone is relaxed and low key and kind of normal. There were many places to sit. People seemed to not be in a caffeine induced hurry. It took me a while to adjust to the slower pace of life: for a moment I thought that they were all involuntarily sedated or something.
We picked up Michael, made our way to the ferry and soon we were on our way. I bought a scone, it was actually pretty decent. We caught the bus to Gibsons which was only 20 minutes away, though for some reason I thought it would be an hour. I also thought we would have to fight to get on the bus. I really need to remember that not all places are like Vancouver, land of the harried individuals that are perpetually lining up for something.
Our "cabin" was awesome. It was probably eight or nine hundred square feet: two bedrooms, full bath and kitchen, huge living room, enclosed sundeck. Sweet. We put our feet up upon arriving and enjoyed the twenty minutes of sunshine that was available to us all weekend. Po had a glass of wine and then wanted to nap. No napping! There was the downtown core to explore! We had to go to Molly's Reach and indulge in some nostalgic Canadiana. We did this. It didn't take very long. Then we napped. Then we got up and watched "The Break Up". Those of you that know and love me know that I hate all things Hollywood. This was actually really good movie. For anyone that has ever made a comment to their significant other along the lines of "I want you to want to do the dishes": you should rent this movie. Then we went back to bed.
The next day it was absolutely pissing. Po made a comment that sitting in the enclosed sundeck was like being in a car wash. Yes, it was. It was still enjoyable to sit in this veritable car wash and gaze out at the harbour and not hear: ringing cell phones, car alarms, cars with ridiculous mufflers, or humanity in general. I hate humanity. Kidding. Kind of.
We wandered back into town to have breakfast at Molly's Reach. Popular place: we had to sit at the bar. The owner of the B&B said that he would give us a lift to the ferry later in the afternoon. I was pretty sure he was going to murder us and dump us in the ocean. We went to a coffee shop (where we would see a BC Ferries employee that would later turn up on the... BC Ferry that we were on) and mulled over the Globe and Mail. God, I love the Globe and Mail. Indulge me for a moment, but here are the articles I was happy to read: one about the addiction of email; one about architect Daniel Libeskind; and a column by my hero Rex Murphy about what an environmental midget Jay Leno is. I was soooo happy. And then I started to decide that I didn't want to return to Vancouver. I wanted to stay in Gibsons, live cheaply, take whatever job I can that will pay the bills, become involved in my community and be granted the opportunity to start over again. I started having a freakin' midlife crisis at Truffles in Gibsons at 1pm on a Sunday afternoon. I can't describe it as much more than that. I now have a bee in my bonnet. A big, angry, buzzing bee.
I want to take a break. I want to enjoy a slower pace. I don't want to worry about dating, relationships or my physical appearance. I want to develop relationships with other humans within my community. I don't want to meet people on line. I want to live in a place where people say hi when you pass them on the street. I want to have dinner parties and friends dropping over all the time, because that's what a social life is. I want to shovel my elderly neighbour's driveway. I want to write a book.
It is plausible that I can live this sort of lifestyle in Vancouver (tempered somewhat, obviously), but as great as Vancouver is, I don't think it is conducive to what I'm looking for. What am I looking for? Some kind of break. A natural pause. A sabbatical. I don't know.
I had a very, very illuminating time in Gibsons. Almost detrimentally so. What am I supposed to do now? I will drag my ass to work tomorrow. I will not discuss any of the light bulbs that went off in my head with any of my coworkers. I will stand in line at Tim Horton's. I will stand in line for the bus. I will get home as I always do at 5:45 and then I will run for an hour to maintain my level of fitness, but more importantly to exhaust myself so I don't have to think so much. I will say hi to my neighbours, whose names I don't know. I will continue to read my John Irving novel and love it, while hating and being envious of his skill. I think I'm in a holding pattern. I told my mom that I felt overwhelmingly depressed today. She said "well, you'll feel better tomorrow".
Michael spent the day with me today. He could tell that I was depressed. He didn't say it, but after being with me for six years he knew that I didn't want to be left alone. I didn't ask him to spend inordinate amounts of time with me, but he did. We walked throughout Coal Harbour and downtown Vancouver. I bought a book on Art Nouveau. I love Art Nouveau. I told him how stupid I felt about M and he said I am too hard on myself. He's right. I'm going to let it go now.
Here's what I want. I want to move to Gibsons, into a beater house, with Michael. Between working on my book and his architectural endeavors, we'll renovate and flip the house. We'll be on a first name basis with the staff at Molly's Reach. I can kayak on the weekends. Friends can come and visit us for the weekend and go away, amazed by how happy and relaxed we are. I'll put that on my to do list, which is thus far comprised of: taking my car for regular maintenance; sending post dated cheques to my new landlord; getting my British citizenship; buying a new couch; putting Po's art behind glass; running a half and a full marathon; cutting out carbs; reading more philosophy; writing a book....
posted by Duder at 9:07 PM
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