A walk through life - THE COMMENTARY
By Joseph Planta
Good Thursday morning. Before the main Commentary, a thought on a movie I happened to see yesterday. Save The Last Dance, opened to the number one spot at the box office last weekend. It’s a veritable mix of hip hop, ballet and the inner-city. It’s weaved well and Julia Stiles pulls in a decent performance. The story is awfully cliché, but it’s worth watching if you’re in the mood for melodramatic schlock and/or some nifty choreography. One that is not from the ghetto or the ‘hood, would be hardpressed in understanding the dialogue however. Ah, the miracles of an MTV film...
VANCOUVER -- The one thing that irks me about going to school is the travelling I have to do. I do not drive (nor do I plan to anytime soon,) so it is reliance on the public transportation system that I invest in at least twice a day. So on Friday, I was waiting at the bus stop on 49th in front of Langara College. It is not unusual to see a couple dozen folks at anyone time waiting for a bus that is either full or too full, when it finally gets there. I never kept count, but I remember one evening last semester when three buses came to the stop, but not one did I board because there was absolutely no room.
On Friday, I sensed that it could be one of those days again. I’d probably be waiting for at least two buses. So I decided I would walk east from the College to Fraser Street (I live on Fraser, then again it’s a long street.) From the College to Fraser, it’s a distance some 8 or 9 blocks, but I decided to do the trek as I didn’t feel like waiting and hell, I needed the exercise. I do not exercise. I walk the block from the house to the bus stop and the other block when I get Langara, from the bus stop there. I walk from class to class and that’s about it. I make no apologies about my lack of physical activity. I guess it hasn’t interested me.
I felt like a drink. I was walking along 49th, the sidewalks uneven at best. At Main, I notice there’s a pickup abandoned and with its hood open. How embarrassing it must be to have your car breakdown in the middle of a busy intersection. Perhaps that’s why I don’t drive. Maybe the fact I may cause road rage in fellow drivers, with my automobile backing up traffic; say back about 2 blocks.
I make myself a deal. Self will get that drink if self can walk a certain distance. Having an appetite for a milkshake, Self makes a deal and decides that if he can walk to Fraser and 42nd - a milkshake it is. I schlep to 49th and Fraser clocking in some 9 city blocks. I’m getting lazy and I spot the Fraser bus. It’s about 7 or so blocks from where I stand, which would be a 10 minute walk at least. Do I take the bus, cutting the trip from 49th to 42nd to 4 minutes max, or do I just walk? Walk it was. Exercise, being the virtue.
Fraser Street is much different from 49th Avenue. 49th, besides being a major thoroughfare east to west, is actually residential. Fraser, much more major of an artery, is bustling in comparison. The street is littered with grocery shops, barbers and banks; drug stores and dentists. On Fraser, while there are cars, it’s the people that provide the cacophony of life. If you want to see Canada, it’s probably on Fraser Street. East Indian merchants trim their vegetable wares for purchase, while Caucasian matrons - the blue rinse set - move along the street running errands. Elderly Chinese hauling bags of stuff, leaning as they lift, are cheerful; while kids of all kinds of races walk ever so youthfully with their packsacks flung over their shoulders. Gossiping, laughing, complaining about school. Living.
I pass those barber shops and those dental offices. Humble they are as this is Fraser not Howe or Georgia. Come to think of it, because it isn’t Howe or Georgia, Downtown Vancouver, is in solitude of its own. They both are Vancouver, but perhaps only in name. I see signs. A haircut is $8.00. Downtown, where I go it’s $13.00. (Maybe it’s a different kind of trim?) Shoes are for sale at one store, cross the corner and chicken legs are on sale. A jewellery store, no Birks, is adorned in guard rails; while across the street a video store, no Blockbuster, is the same.
A public library, I spot. It’s a newer edifice, yet it looks worn. Compared to its surroundings it’s new - say a decade old - yet I was growing up when they built it. Now it looks old. I guess because I too am older.
The MacDonald’s is a block away. The walk that would seem hellish on a wet, cold day seems all the more worthwhile on a milder, pleasant day. I live life, yet on this walk of mine - all in the pursuit of exercise - I see life lived by my fellow citizens. The diversity is uplifting and all the more to be thankful for that I live in Canada, not somewhere more polarising.
I get into the MacDonald’s and it’s about 3:00 now; kids are due to flee the high school a block further. I get in line ready to put my order for a chocolate milkshake. I also order a couple sandwiches for take out as I sense a bit of guilt in simply sitting with a mere beverage. I drink and I notice that I’ve relegated myself to a section composed of elderly folks. They too sit with their small meals or light snacks.
I head home. The bus stop is a walk away and I wait for the bus. It’s time to bus home now, but I have learned a bit. A walk rewarded a cool drink is always pleasant. A walk is good for the soul. A walk can bring out a bit of patriotism. Life certainly is beautiful.
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