In visiting Vancouver and Victoria, I found my spiritual home. It was August 1993, and the weather was glorious. Vancouver appeared to have everything a big cosmopolitan city should have, including Stanley Park. I see from the WWW that Stanley Park aquarium now seems to have been upgraded to something akin to the Montreal Biodome. Granville Island market was a wonderful place to hang out, gorging eyes and tummy with the fresh food for sale. My wife and I were struck almost immediately by the ease with which physically disabled people can move about Vancouver. We saw more people making their way in electric wheelchairs in ten minutes outside Eaton's than we had ever seen in Britain in total. What's more, few if any of those people had helpers with them.
It was good to see a little of Vancouver Island on British television, Victoria hosting the 1994 Commonwealth Games. In the psyche of many people in Britain, the Pacific Ocean has an other-worldly, exotic quality which distinguishes it quite markedly from the Atlantic Ocean. I feel certain that the televisual screening from Victoria of a major sports event was the first time many people in Britain realised that there is land, before China, to the west of the North American mainland. Apart, that is, from Hawaii, which is stereotyped as being exotic.
Being on an island means that arrival in Victoria is by air or by sea. From Vancouver, the flight is only short, and I think that some of the boatplanes taking off from Vancouver harbour may have been Victoria-bound. Whilst I am certain that the flight would have been heavenly (I also enjoy parachuting), for three passengers the airfare was beyond our budget. The alternative to flying was to go by boat. Even though more expensive than the long coach ride and short sea crossing, we opted for the catamaran journey direct from Vancouver harbour front (in the heart of the downtown area) to Victoria. This turned out to be one the most pleasurably exciting sea journeys I have ever experienced. Travelling westwards from the western coast of the North American mainland (itself far to the west of Britain and Europe) carried a thrill, almost as though leaving behind the known world and setting out to explore the unknown. As we sped out into the Pacific Ocean, I was reminded of the John Denver song about Jacques Cousteau's boat "Calypso". Magically, we watched three killer whales heading southwards together towards Seattle looking for food. The previous day, we had seen captive killer whales in Stanley Park Aquarium: fascination, coloured with sadness for their captivity. For all the dangers they face, largely resulting from the effects of human impact on their environment, killer whales need to be free. On our next trip to British Columbia, I should like to go whale watching. After a little while the catamaran was dodging in and out of fog banks, and weaving between little islands, their appearance chia oscura in the bright sunlight and heavy mist. The islands also tugged a thrill of danger, as they are much wilder compared, say, to the Thousand Islands of the St Lawrence.
Victoria, as the provincial capital of British Columbia, has neither the look nor the feel of a capital city. It could easily be mistaken for a seaport town in southern England, and some parts of Victoria felt like the theme park that a number of British towns and cities have become. The Royal British Columbia Museum ranks as one of the best in North America. By means of artefacts, displays and interpretation, almost everything about British Columbia's past is examined under the microscope. Amazing displays to walk into concern the social impact of logging and of prospecting. There are huge, full-size still-life re-creations of different natural BC environments, although the impact of these has been enfeebled by the living re-creation of such environments in the Montreal Biodome (and possibly in Stanley Park, too). The section on Natives Peoples is reputed to be the definitive collection, and indeed it was fine. There was no hint of excusing the intolerable pressures exerted on groupings such as the Coastal Salish. However, I feel uncomfortable because at least at a surface level, the displays seemed to be for the benefit of non-First Nations people. Artefacts belonging to, and photographs of, First Nations people were brought into the non-First Nations environment, to be pored over by non-First Nations people. I felt more comfortable entering a reconstruction of a Huron village in Midland, Ontario, despite it being a reconstruction, and despite it being reconstructed by non-First Nations people, because there was also a sense of entering and visiting someone else's world, rather than trying to import aspects of their world into mine. Reservations apart, the museum is unmissable. I think that the entrance ticket is valid for 48 hours: an arrangement we encountered at Upper Canada Village on the St. Lawrence, but which is at least uncommon in Britain.
There was an excellent vegetarian cafe/restaurant in a kind of 'alternative' and 'crafty' yard, highly to be recommended. I would love to know whether the cafe/restaurant is still operating.
On our next trip to British Columbia, we shall hire a car and take our time exploring the temperate rain forests of Vancouver Island. I wonder if Claquot Sound has been saved from the ravages of the loggers.
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