Metrotown

Photo credit: 604now.com

I went to a shopping mall today called Metrotown.

Actually, its official name is Metropolis at Metrotown and it boasts over 450 shops and services and bills itself as the largest mall in British Columbia.

While I don’t consider a trip to a shopping mall all that exciting, it’s what I felt during my visit that made me want to tickle the old keyboard.

When I had enrolled at BCIT (British Columbia Institute of Technology) as a full-time student, I had rented an apartment across the street from Metrotown.

Photo credit: vancouversun.com

At the time, the mall played a pivotal role in my life not just because of its proximity to my home, transit and school, but because of poignant memories that I can still derive from walking-by certain merchants that I had patronized all those years ago (some of whom are still there to this day).

While I’m sure the folks at Kwik Images & Metrotown Postal don’t know me from Adam, I will never forget using their services to send out my demo reels to prospective employers, hoping that one of them would say, “Yes”. And indeed, one of them did! After casting my net time and time again through Kwik Images & Metrotown Postal, I finally caught my catch in the form of a facsimile offering me a new job and a chance to start a new adventure in a different part of Canada.

But that adventure was made possible thanks in part to my employment at Rogers Wireless (who have been a tenant at the mall for over a decade).

Photo credit: wikimedia.org

With their logo affixed on top of one of the looming office towers, its sight brings me back to a time when my productivity (and value) as a proletariat were measured and assessed by metrics such as the duration of my service calls and the number of sales I could acquire per shift.

Photo credit: moddb.com

I am also reminded of a time when I sought comfort and camaraderie amongst my team-mates as we battled the hordes of “zombies” that would invade our phone lines every shift. And while I was fortunate enough to move on to a different career path after my stint with the “Walking Dead”, some of my former colleagues chose to stay on and a chance encounter in the food court nearly a decade later proved to me that some folks make better "zombie slayers" than others.

Gawd Bless Em’!

If there is one thing that I have learned thus far, it is that nostalgia isn’t limited to just photographs and keepsakes. A whiff of cologne or even a visit to a shopping mall can unleash a flurry of memories that may have been buried like an ancient artefact – only to be unearthed by a sensory synapse.

Like item #12 at Kim Bo Ting!

Still cooking up my favourite dish after all these years, you will find Kim Bo Ting in the food court next to Tim Hortons. As a frequent customer back in my college days, the staff at the time knew my order from memory and would always greet me with a warm smile. Even though they have all since moved on, item # 12 can still be found on the menu and the recipe hasn't changed at all. So if you're ever in the neighbourhood, stop by Kim Bo Ting in the food court and you may find me there as well:

Photo credit: urbanspoon.com

Eating my Korean Udon noodles and reminiscing of a time long since past. 

The Alcoholic

THE ALCOHOLIC

I see him on my way to work from time to time

The alcoholic.

Clutching his umbrella, staring out the window

The unmistakable stench of fermented dreams wafting from his body

His being.

I don’t know his name nor his story

All I know is his scent

It is the smell of decay - of sorrow - of neglect - of emotions suppressed

Gangrene of the heart.

It is the repugnant aftershave of a man on skid row

The scarlet letter of those who just can’t get it together.

As he’s about to leave, our eyes meet

I feel a stirring within me.

A sensation that I cannot articulate with words, only with synapses.

Of a familiar stranger

The alcoholic.

JAMES RHA 

Corner of Granville & Davie Street, Vancouver, B.C.

There, amongst the dumpsters, cigarette butts and alley refuse is a mural that is a visual parable for those who choose to see it as such.

Tucked away off of a busy street in the heart of Vancouver, this hidden gem of street art remains, for the most part, ignored and isolated - just like the rocks and islands who pass by it.

Insulated in their cocoon of phone apps, tweets and ear buds, the dwellers of the electric city march-by, yoga mats in hand, eager to chase that elusive bliss that always seems to be, just beyond their reach. 

Eventually, the colours will start to fade and this city scape will be no more. And the only memory of its existence will be in the minds of those who chose to stop and open their eyes to the world around them.

I was waiting for the bus today when I noticed a lonnie and two quarters lying on the pavement.

I was going to pocket the change but then all of a sudden, I had second thoughts.

The way the coins were arranged and the fact that they amounted to exactly $2.50 made me suspect that their presence wasn't entirely by happenstance.

Someone had left them there on purpose.

All of a sudden, I looked up and saw a man walk by. His dishevelled hair, soiled clothing and a gait that is so common amongst the down-and-out made me want to rush up to him and press the coins into his hand.

But I didn't.

Instead, I silently watched him walk away until he was out of sight.

The bus came at its appointed time and I got on. 

As I watched the scenery go by, I silently hoped that the man would come across the coins and claim them for himself.

I wonder if I would have done the same had the money been the kind that folds...

...probably not.