People tend to have good things to say about their hometown. Unless they're from somewhere patently unpleasant, it's hard to catch people talking down about the city they grew up in.
Because of this, during my time at Queen’s, I never took the complaints from my west coast friends about Ontario too seriously. I love Toronto. It has set my bar for what a liveable city looks like and spoiled me on qualities that I can't unsee when I'm elsewhere. Great representations of food from many cultures and distinct neighbourhoods with unique character are two examples of this.
So, over the last month, I've been astonished to observe my worldview of what makes a good city shattered and reformed by springtime in Vancouver. This place is incredible. The morning ocean spray, amber tones from the snow-capped peaks at sunset, and mind-blowing diversity of blooming flora have all made me reconsider what my west coast friends have been saying all along. In Toronto, there are fifty cherry blossom trees in High Park and thousands of people swarm them when they bloom every year. But here, they're everywhere! Entire streets are lined with them. They're by gas stations and next to bus stops. It's hard to imagine taking cherry blossoms for granted, but it feels like they're as much a fact of life here as the beaches and the mountains.
In Toronto, on runs or bike rides or park hangouts, being outside was the by-product of the activity I was keen on doing. Here, the activity itself isn’t important as long as it gets me out of the house. My hobbies have become the piece of toast (breadstick, finger, etc.) to the Nutella that is being outside. On nice days, the time I would have spent watching TV, reading, playing piano, getting crushed at Dominion, or writing has all been repurposed for this new “being outside” category.
Vancouver is rainy and grey for much of the year, so when the good weather rolls around, the whole city comes alive. There's no collective spark in cities like Barcelona or LA on a beautiful day — it’s just a part of the daily grind and life goes on. On a sunny day in Vancouver, I've never been among so many walkers, runners, bikers, or beachgoers. The seasonality of this city nurtures everybody's appreciation for good weather when it comes, has been a great influence on me to spend more time outside.
The beauty here also has the enchanting effect of making everything else in the city seem better. We've been going to this neighbourhood joint by Kits beach called Nook — it'd be harder to imagine up a more typical, "modern-ish" Italian restaurant. The menu is absolutely fine (the kind of "fine" you offer a telemarketer when they ask how your day is going), but the beach views and people-watching opportunities have softened my neuroticism about going to a restaurant that I don’t absolutely love. If Nook were to be transplanted anywhere in Toronto, I never would’ve gone back a second time, but we’ve had several memorable meals there and I kind of miss it now as I write about it.
The same goes for lots of other things: coffees, bakeries, ice cream shops; any store in the business of making people happy feels like it has a leg up here because of how conducive the environment is to that. The gears have been turning about later-life lifestyle business opportunities in Vancouver.
Until getting here, I didn’t appreciate the opportunity that many have had in the last year to pack up and live somewhere else. To rehash an old thought from exchange, at the expense of sounding like a dumb North American whose entire personality has been built around their semester abroad, there's such a difference of experience between visiting a place as a traveller and living there. As a visitor in Paris, there's pressure to fit in visits to as many culturally and historically significant attractions as possible. It's an exhausting experience, and the process of doing so is at odds with the spirit of the city. Paris is the city of the flâneur, and it's best enjoyed slowly — strolling by the river, stopping at a cafe, people watching in the park, getting lost in an old bookstore, popping into a gallery. It's hard to sample the local lifestyle with four nights booked in a hotel. I imagine the same has to be true with most other cities in the world. I wouldn't be spending every evening at Kits beach if I was just visiting.
Catching morning and sunset rays from the beach have filled my days with a fullness that might be tough to find in Toronto. On these walks, I've been catching myself imagining what a longer stay out here would be like. Right now, like my favourite archaeological doctoral summer intern, I can't help but feel aware of the finite nature of my stay and the halo effect it brings. I wonder how long the sheen of my new surroundings will last before the abrasion of everyday life catches up to them.
In any case, I think it's best to keep moving. Vancouver has been a beautifully enriching experience, and living here has given me new features to look out for in my ideal city. After a year at home, I feel a renewed sense of purpose to spend the rest of my twenties building the library of lived experiences in new cities. Even if I end up back in Toronto at the end of it all, it will have been a more intentional decision than if I never left.