library book baskets

The Central Branch of the Vancouver Public Library, located downtown at the corner of Georgia and Homer, is absolutely stunning. With the government office tower mirroring the arc of the coliseum-like edifice (it's the office tower that completes the building, in my opinion), you can't help but feel the centrifugal forces that make you want to sprint around the building, running your hands along the curved spine.

But it was not Moshe Safdie's building that impressed me the most upon my visit to the public library, but rather the simple black book baskets that welcomed me at the door. They just scream with subliminal suggestion: "you're gonna read SOOOO much that you'll need me to hold all of those books!"

CONSUMED: Vancouver Public Library, Central Branch; 350 West Georgia Street, Vancouver

singing wires

We were standing on the sidewalk of West 4th, trying to figure out what to do next, our stomachs revolting for having been promised fried chicken only to have it frustratingly yanked from our metaphorical grasp. Suddenly from behind, the wires above the street started to thrum and sing, followed promptly by the distinctive crackle of trolley poles. My mind raced in a sharp moment of recognition and confusion, suddenly picturing the red and white of the TTC. A streetcar? In Vancouver?! Listening hard, I was half-expecting the inevitable rattle of the rails that come just before the streetcar passes.

My heart dropped as an electric trolley bus hummed passed us, taking with it with my moment of dislocation. Despite my disappointment, I remained impressed; this was either a grand example of my quixotic sentimentality of all things Toronto, or the brain's remarkable ability to remember life's most random ephemera.

CONSUMED: West 4th, between Maple and Cypress; Vancouver

Camper Locus BCN sneakers

Two years ago, I bought my first pair of Campers, and things have never been the same. While standing still, they looked unremarkable: black laces on a black sneaker. The sly surprise came when you walked: bright yellow soles with the inscription "where do you want to go today?" Thanks to this, these shoes easily became my favoured ones.

There was only one problem. Never before have I ever grown so attached to a shoe. But after two years of nearly daily wear, the shoes have slowly disintegrated, with much of the top layer of the soft leather worn away and with soles that soak your feet from the bottom up when you walk in the rain. I've conducted extensive searches for replacement shoes, something with the universal-use quality of an all-black sneaker, but also something with the same subtle style. And every time I find a candidate, I'm always quick to shoot it down.

The solution? I re-bought the shoe. Camper is known for regularly rotating its stock; thankfully it has held onto this model, at least for one more season. And while re-buying shoes feels a little bit like a symptom of getting older and "set in my ways," this time I am willing to make that concession.

CONSUMED:
1st pair - Camper; Avinguda Jaume III, Palma de Mallorca, Spain
2nd pair - Freedman Shoes; 2867 Granville Street, Vancouver

Chad VanGaalen :: Soft Airplane

Maybe it's because this guy is from my hometown, which some may describe as a "cultural wasteland." Maybe it's because he exudes awkwardness: he's tall, lanky, his voice sounds like it's always on the edge of cracking, and he's always hermitically making music in his basement!

Or maybe it's because he's making music unlike anything that's coming out of Canada right now. Rather he's been blazing his own trail and wooing Canadians since 2003. But now with this third album under his belt, Chad VanGaalen has proven that he's not going anywhere anytime soon (and thank goodness for that).

With just enough quirk (he went to art school after all) to appease the most discriminating of music critics, and just enough catchy hook to keep him really accessible, he definitely deserves a listen. (There's more of his tracks on the CBC Radio 3 website, if you can figure out their not-so-intuitive music player.)

CONSUMED: Zulu Records; 1972 West 4th Avenue, Vancouver

terimayo dog

Surely it's been blogged to death. But I couldn't pass up the opportunity to speak from personal experience. I had heard about Japadog long before my trip to Vancouver, the city of proud Asian ex-pats. The simplicity of the whole concept boggles the mind: Japanese toppings on an all-American beef hot dog.

I arrived on my bike at Burrard and Robson, just as I was instructed. I approached both hot dog stands on the corners of that intersection, only to be rebuffed by the (now) pedestrian menus containing polish sausages and veggie dogs. Where was the Japadog stand? My eyes scanned the other corners, only to confirm that the Japadog man must have already packed up and gone home, after a sold-out day on Burrard. Duly stowing my discontent, I jumped back on my bike and pedalled for the Burrard Street Bridge.

!!

I braked and turned my bike onto the sidewalk of Smithe. There he was at the corner of Smithe and Burrard: Mr. Japadog, smiling widely. Within 5 minutes, I had a secured myself a tastebud-twisting terimayo dog ("the classic," I was told). Two more minutes, it was gone, down the pipes. Who knew seaweed, teriyaki-simmered onions and a good ol' wiener could work so well together? (The wasabi mayo was an added treat.)

CONSUMED: Japadog; north-west corner of Burrard and Smithe, Vancouver

"walk buttons" ... for bikes!

The good people of Vancouver don't understand how much of a good thing they have. Streets designated as bike routes? Traffic calming measures that stop cars but allow bikes to go through? Buses with bike racks hitched to their fronts? All of these speak to the fact that the people upstairs not only understand but also actively encourage cycling as a viable primary form of transportation.

But I am most amazed at the traffic signal push buttons for cyclists. They're stationed exactly where they need to be: at all major intersections on designated bike routes, accessible directly from the street (complementing those on the sidewalk for pedestrians), and just a little bit higher off the ground to compensate for the height of a bike. I'm also partially addicted to the satisfying beep they make when pressed. (And they really work, unlike the push buttons in some other cities!)

Oh Vancouver, if only you knew all the kinds of envy you would inspire in the cyclists of New York.

CONSUMED: all over Vancouver!

Shad :: The Old Prince

For three years now, Canada has been the home to the Polaris Music Prize. The award is based on actual artistic merit (as judged by music broadcasters, bloggers and journalists) and not music sales (see: Grammys and Junos). And so the nominees represent the best music that has come out of Canada over the past year.

This year, the award shortlist contained some up-and-comers (Holy Fuck, Two Hours Traffic, Plants and Animals) mixed with heavy hitters (Stars, The Weakerthans, Kathleen Edwards). But after giving everyone a brief listen, what caught my ears were not the indie rock/pop outfits, but rather the lone hip hop album on the list.

Shad's style of emceeing falls under my personal classification as "hip hop" and not "rap," which means that he lays down rhymes about personal and political issues rather than bling-bling and bitches. The best example is in "Brother" where he talks through his frustration of how black youth are tied up in a form of "mental slavery" where the only images of black identity they see involve "makin' tracks or...hoops...or movin' packs for the loot." He calls on black activists to not try to "match any image of blackness" but rather just "do what you're passionate to." In layering his lyrics over a piano/vocal riff not unlike those used by Common, Shad makes this track is one of the sweetest on the album.

But my favourite track is definitely "The Old Prince Still Lives at Home," in which the beat sample cuts out two-thirds the way through the song. "I couldn't afford the whole beat," he says on the track. Then he spits another verse on top of hand claps and a chorus of "hollas!" Even if he didn't win the Polaris Prize this year, he definitely deserves the acclaim afforded by the nomination.

CONSUMED: Red Cat Records; 4307 Main Street, Vancouver

rooibos latte

"We're out of cocoa." I think I must have pouted a little, because the barista was quick to react: "But you're looking for something non-caffeinated? How about something off-menu?" Intrigued, I asked him to expound on his suggestion. Rooibos tea put into the espresso basket and brewed like espresso? Then filled up with steamed milk just like a latte? Yes please!

And after adding half a pack of sugar (as I am wont to do with rooibos), I sat down and sipped the warm concoction, down to the dregs, accompanied by a good friend and healthy serving of laughter.

CONSUMED: Agro Cafe; Granville Island (in Railspur Alley), Vancouver