Vancouver revisited
Then.
Glass towers still to be imagined.
Tallest and most imposing structure: Hotel Vancouver.
I walk by the main entrance, wearing a suit and tie,
like everyone else, it seemed then,
imagining myself a guest of the hotel,
seeing, as in a dream,
a young girl in a sleek leather outfit
stepping out of the hotel, laughing,
alongside of an impeccably dressed man…
Now.
Glass towers all around, no longer just imagined.
Hotel Vancouver,
like an old suit taken out of a closet for dusting,
still shows an aging elegance,
but a young pretty girl no longer
walks out of its main entrance in ostentatious elegance,
nor is she accompanied by a suit and tie.
She is of course as pretty as ever
but instead of a sleek leather outfit
she is wearing jean cutoffs,
as on this splendid summer afternoon
they dazzle in the streets below
as the glass panels do on the towers above.
The city’s major churches
once towered over the city,
and through their imposing size
and artistry of design
they heralded authority
and spiritual comfort.
They are still there these ancient relics,
though smothered and scrunched,
no longer doling out
but seeming to beg for compassion,
like crumpled up homeless
in the streets.
And the people—
speaking in a babel of languages,
with a yes and an ok sometimes audible
to the attentive ear;
with fingers feverishly tapping away
at an iPhone or a Samsung;
searching for something, anything…
No sign of newspapers
or newspaper stands anywhere—
the answer to all the tapping?
I remember, in the days before
the world became pocket size,
the international newspaper store
(Ezio and I were regulars there)
in a drabby part of East Hastings—yes—
but a true www even so,
where the old world met the new.
Then and now,
with now the more
soul-less of the two—
and yet
on Thursday night,
a sultry summer night,
in a square on Water’s Street,
the Vancouver Metropolitan
freely and feelingly entertained
to strains of the Sound of Music
tourists and residents,
and rich and humble alike.
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