8 Arts and Culture SAMANTHA FARROW ARTS EDITOR I was born in Maple | Ridge, however, when I was two, we moved to Smithers because of the Clifford Olson murders. My parents wanted a safer life for us and who could blame them? After their separa- tion nine years later, my mother, brother, and I moved back to the Lower Mainland. At first, we lived in Port Moody. In the summers, my brother and I used to trek down to Rocky Point Park and swim off the pier. I would also spend a lot of my time in the Coquitlam Centre, and after we moved to the other side of Coquitlam, Lougheed Mall, I was a mall rat. At the age of fourteen, my mom decided that she wanted to go back to Smithers and we left the city. This was not an easy move for me; I loved the city, and didn't want to go back to a place where tractors drove up the main drag and people still wore tight bottomed jeans. I went to visit the city and my friends quite a bit over the next couple of years. Flash forward fifteen years; I had left Smithers three years earlier and was now living in Prince George. I headed down to Vancouver during the summer by myself, after not being there in twelve or so years, to visit friends and family. Getting into the city of Surrey, I was overwhelmed, Go- The Adventures of Ca a Ce Meanwhile on the Pirate Ship oF Ne gative | § Falling in Love All Over Again ing through Coquitlam was even worse; there were houses where there were never houses. I didn't recognize anything. There were people everywhere. Downtown Van- couvet, where I spent a day wandering with friends, was a nightmare; I looked down for two seconds at a crosswalk and went I looked up, there was huge wave of people coming at me. One could no longer swim at Rocky Point Park off the pier, it was too polluted. Instead there was a pool on shore. The ocean was a yucky brown colour. I left for home with an acrid taste in my mouth for the city I used to love so much. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go back down to the city I no longer loved. My man-friend was going down for the weekend, and we rarely see each other, so I decided to join him, Instead of leaving on Thursday or Friday, I decided to leave on Tuesday, skip class, and jump on the bus. There was no class on Wednesday, due to Remembrance Day, and hey, it’s at the end of a hellish semester, I deserve a holiday. I had some reservations about going to the place I felt disillusioned with the last time. My first couple of days down there did nothing to alleviate that. My friend and I hit up the Guilford Mall, we got there by bus, a very crowded bus. I thought that if HINI1 was going to spread anywhere, it would be on this bus. Guilford Mall was just as crowded; it was also bright, gaudy, (Opes aha Beal Over Awesome's Perelarin Y t repare va Captain > \S B ge. ees OF rk s a and distracting. People were bumping into each other everywhere and this small city girl was feeling lost and out of place. How do these people live like this? Do they not understand personal space? I was starting to feel the old resentment for the place leap forward again — mind you I was in Surrey, and I have never liked Surrey. All of this changed on Friday when I jumped on the Skytrain in Surrey to meet my man-friend in Vancouver. The minute I saw him, all the feelings of being out of place and lost disappeared. After getting everything settled with our hotel room with a great view, we wandered the streets in search of somewhere for dinner, along the way taking in the sights. It was glorious; the buildings, both old combined with new, the people dressed in all different styles and ways, the smell of the ocean combined with the city smells, and the shopping; GUESS, BCBG, Louis Vuitton, Gucci. It was like I had died and gone to shopping paradise. We mostly window shopped, only going into one or two stores so I could touch the beautiful fabrics and ogle up close, and so his eyeballs could pop out of his head at the prices, When we got back to the hotel, I was in for another surprise. It was now dark, and the streets and buildings were all light up. Being so high up, we could see for miles. The noise was a dim hum of activity; traffic, yelling, sirens, music. I felt like the x re ght Connon | \) Back on The S. 5. Fantastic cael . Queen of the World, not in a Leonardo De Caprio way, there was no way I was climb- ing onto the railing, but in a way that made me feel the slight niggling of love creep back into my heart. By the next day, I was getting used to the hustle and bustle. On almost every street corner, there were panhandlers and homeless, people with signs as to why they needed money: food, because they were blind, one man had no legs. Most of the people just walked past without a sec- ond glance; I wondered what their life stor- ies were. More window shopping and go- ing into the odd store; The Rock Shop on Granville is the coolest store, it has every- thing: T-shirt, flags, lighters, key chains, incense holders, coffin purses, you name the band, they probably have it. Cannibal the Musical was playing at the Commodore Ballroom on Granville, but there were too many other things to do. That night, I had some time by myself, so I left the hotel and wandered by myself. There were people everywhere, just like during the day, but the crowd was a little more eccentric, Of course, it was the night of the KISS concert, so there were Gene Simmons look-a-likes everywhere. I saw punks with Mohawks, girls with purses that cost more than everything I was wear- ing, the odd business person just heading home, groups of men, groups of women. 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