VANCOUVER - The Next Life

VANCOUVER - Why Do the White Gulls Call?

An interesting turn in the slightly tedious process of job hunting. Conventional wisdom dictated that, the year's travels over and money to be earnt, the forseeable future would be spent in Britain with travelling relegated to occassional jaunts. But I despise conventional wisdom. I loathe it. It is anti-action, anti-adventure and anti everything I believe in. Also, it depends on you being *wise* and I resent being humilated like that. Therefore, when the chance to shun conventional wisdom rears its head to me, I am always one to refuse it.

Which is why this week, almost exactly a year after my first visit, I was back in Vancouver. And this time, for a job interview which would not only see me leaving British shores again; but this time with a one way ticket. I sense some further clarification is in order here...


Greater Vancouver. From the airport, through Downtown to the North Shore then the mountains beyond. "One day, lad. All this could be yours!", "What? The curtains?..."

Regular readers will recall that, during my last visit I was rather taken with Vancouver and, especially, with the parish of St. Francis-in-the-Wood, home of the Stuart family. As Charity reported back in July, Angus was back in Bristol this summer for a visit and reportage of how wonderful all Canadian things are. And, also, that the church was currently searching locally for a Youth Worker without success. Being unemployed and having Charity (the mistress of vocational mischief) at my side it didn't take long for the two conversations to merge. So we had a quick chat about Visas, the awesomeness of Vancouver and my fabulous no-money and left it at that.

A few weeks of dreaming, pondering and serious consideration (including a particular moment of clarity during a train journey from York to Bournemouth) later; an application was made. And soon after that, I was back at Poole Bus Station with my trusty rucksack having been invited for an all expenses paid trip in one of my favourite cities of the world for the first stage of a Phil's Phworld reunion tour. With the added bonus that, this time, there might only be a week and a few interviews standing between me and developing a more permenant interest in ice hockey.


Pilot Cove; one year on. Still immensly pretty, only this time with bonus blue sky.

When you're having a bad time travelling or, indeed, anywhere, you do have to have a few happy places to mentally retreat into and to remind yourself how lovely the world can be. West Vancouver was one of those places; so wandering back along the shores a year later was a familliar experience. No seal this time but, instead of a light drizzle, plenty of bright sunshine. Indeed, apart from one day of torrentiol rain I was treated to the full summertime vistas of Vancouver for the entire week. Which, of course, did give everyone a natural point of cross cultural introduction ("Just wait until you're here in winter. Rained for thirty days straight last year!") but also opened up some good hiking oppotunites.

Last time around, Angus and I had to content ourselves with a short jaunt across some of the cross country sking runs in Cypress Park. This time, we set out on a major day long trek to the downhill ski runs and to the summit of Mt. Strachan. Cypress Park is primo skiing territory during the winter months, and is currently being dug and clawed at by the diggers in preparation for the 2010 Winter Olympics (another good reason to hang around town, methinks) When the snow melts away, though, the peaks are still just as awesome. A readjustment of our original plans took us on a three, rather than one peak, hike. Covering nearby Hollyburn Mountain as well as the Southern and Northern peaks of Strachan. The latter, a fifteen minute rock climb from the south peak, was easily worth the five or so hours work. A rocky plateau, surrounded by views of Vancouver, Vancouver Island and the Cascades mountain ranges.


Angus on the summit of Mt. Hollyburn. Interesting sidebar; there's a hewn wooden bench up there dedicated to a mysterious 'J.R.'...

Following that; a gruelling descent through a wet gully (with Danger! Do Not Proceed! sign helpfully already crashed to the bottom where it couldn't be seen until at least half way down) followed by a quick jaunt into West Vancouver for some house hunting in gorgeous basement apartments and a round of dinner and poker... Angus will tell you the story of how he came to equate his little corner of Vancouver as home long before he was considering moving there. My experience was slightly different; leaving Vancouver I had a profound sense that I was going to miss people I'd met, less than a week after having met them. And geographically having already established my favourite emotional spots in a place I'd spent relativly so little time in.

You'll notice that there is little mention of the interview process, the community of St. Francis or really even the job itself here. ("Youth Worker!? Weren't you a writer last week? Or an activist? Or in student ministry?") The reason is simple; I want to go there so *very* badly that writing about it and then not getting it would be torturous. I'm expecting a decision at the end of the week and, of course, you'll all hear about it when I do. For now, I just have to hold my breath. And, seeing as how its so quickly and powerfully captured my imagination, I'd like to think there's at least one peak or valley in Canada which is doing the same for me.


The view from the top. Lions' Rocks to the left, Mt. Garibaldi covered with snow just to the right. Maybe it looks like a biscuit?

DORSET - Four Score

Current Statistics on the Phil's Phworld job hunt -

Number of potentiolly good jobs offered: 1

Number of potentiolly good jobs turned down: 1

Number of potentiolly amazing jobs not offered yet: 1

Potentiol stupidity for passing up real good jobs in favour of fabled amazing jobs: A lot.

Why Gentlemen Don't Prefer Blondes

Princes Charming, Charming and Charming were surprised
one Tuesday night,
When they all met each other whilst speed dating, at
the exclusive Club Twilight.
They knew about the divorces, they'd read about them
in the papers,
But until this night they could not realise,
the similarity of their respective capers.

Cinderella and Charming had lasted about a month.
About as long as it took for that 'glass slipper'
anecdote to lose its punch.

Snow White was beautiful, to be sure.
But, sadly, she turned out to be rather a bore.
When exploring Fairyland's romantic wharfs,
all she could talk about were those blasted dwarfs.

And poor Sleeping Beauty was doomed from the refrain,
which signalled the Court Jester's arrival to entertain.
She giggled innanenly at puns about meats and bread,
But the ironic references to insomina just flew right over her head.

The Prince Charmings ended up sat together during the lull,
exhausted from discussing hair extensions with Rapunzel.
And finding; as they drowned their sorrows, a shared wish
that there could be more to fairytale girls,
than rosy red lips and golden curls.