My dogs are barking….

Today was a day of laundry. And a day of walking. A lot of walking.
As I type this I am nursing a very sore foot with a recently drained blister. The way it feels right now, tomorrow will not entail much walking. Which, of course, leaves an opportunity for riding. Something I did not do at all today. As a matter of fact, I did not even start my bike today. Something that has not happened since I put her on the road this season.
Sophia and I got up and hit the laundry-mat early this morning – a classic little Chinese laundry run by an elderly couple – him seeming to do everything wrong, and her chattering away in Mandarin, or Cantonese, or I don’t know – it’s all Chinese to me.
We were all done within 90 minutes. A quick trip back to Sophia’s to drop off our newly cleaned garments, and then we were off on an adventure into the down town lower east side – DTES – Gastown and Chinatown. Those who know me well know that I am one of those odd men who actually enjoys shopping. Walking through a crowded, eclectic district full of shops and store-fronts can occupy an entire day for me – and it did so today.
We started out by walking into Chinatown and then onto East Hastings street – the heart of the DTES. We dropped by InSite and spoke with Ashley, the young lady working behind the desk who is the point of contact for the person coming in off the street who has decided to use safely. I congratulated Ashley and her peers and co-workers for the work that they are doing – in the face of some hefty odds – to help save lives.
InSite
I have heard so many different stories, tales and interpretations of what the DTES represents and embodies. Most people have described it to me as a street full of pain and despair; of ruined lives and waiting death; of danger, horror and darkness.
I have a different take on the picture that I saw unfold before and around me.
I saw a community. One that has pulled together and does what it can to support those lost within it. Lost to us. Once within this community, I get the feeling that most ‘individuals’ feel found. Feel part of. Feel like they too, are no longer alone.
The community that I am referring to is, of course, made up entirely of the disenfranchised and the desperate. Addicted and afraid. Sickly and suppurating. Skittish and sketchy.
Those are the terms that we hear – and use – when we are trying to describe what we feel when we walk the DTES.
We forget to describe what we see.
I saw a community of men and women – boys and girls – young and elderly – black, white, aboriginal and native – doing what they can to help each other out. Pulling together to get a brother what he needs; to provide a sister with whatever it is that she is screaming to find; directing a an addict who is dope-sick to the guy who has what he needs. I saw two full length city blocks lined with the wares of gypsy marketers'-  blankets laid out and filled with objects that you and I would toss into the trash. Things we think are no longer useful. Because in our lives, these items no longer serve a purpose.
But in the lives of this struggling, hard-scrabble community, every trinket has value. Every item has a use. Every possession has a price.
The trading was brisk. Almost every blanket had an individual attending to the sales end of the exchange, while several potential buyers jostled with each-other to get that ‘must-have’ item into their own hands in order to begin the bartering banter. Money changed hands at every square. When money was not visible, cupped palms and hushed voices indicated that more illicit forms of payment were being offered.
Sophia and I walked the 6 block length of the DTES without even once being approached by a panhandler. Not one individual tried to sell us anything. No one even asked me for a smoke. As a matter of fact, the only question that I was asked was when an guy with an unlit joint in his mouth asked me if If had a lighter.
There was not a single moment when I felt unsafe. Or uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, there were times during our walk when I noticed that it was I who felt invisible. It is not a nice feeling. To correct that, I made eye contact, and said things like ‘what’s up’ or ‘hey man’ – and found myself acknowledged in return.
A lesson in humility.

Here is a link to an article about a man who also see's more in the DTES than most...

http://www.insidevancouver.ca/2012/01/18/reality-show-gastown-gamble-tells-save-on-meats-story/

We travelled from there on into Gastown. A very hip, chic, artsy part of Vancouver. We walked in and out of so many different shops that I cannot possibly remember the number or the names. And I shopped. And bought stuff. And walked more. And took lots of pictures. And discovered a city that appeals to me as much as any city ever has – and much more than most.
Gastown

I am a visitor here in Vancouver. And I feel at home. What the hell do I do with that?
Pictures from today DTES and Gastown