Solos of the Lams

Another week, another perfect summer's weekend. My time at Mercer had come to the end, so I celebrated in time-honoured fashion of drinks at the nearest pub to the office. Gratefully, I didn't spend a penny as I was treated to a great wind down with a great bunch of people. Mitsubishi and coal mining awaits.

My luck with weather continuing, the sun blazed down on David Lam park in Vancouver's trendy Yaletown for the second installment of the Vancouver International Jazz Festival. Before I even reached downtown on Saturday, my skin was reddening. Maybe it was in preparation for the Spanish celebrations in Euro 2008 the following day. I set up my spot on the vast grass seating area, and whiled away the hours with the solemn trumpets of Zapato Negro, the folksy trappings of Newfoundlander Duane Andrews, the offbeat and disappointing African vibe of Ezeadi Onukwulu, before dancing the night away with the fun beats of Five Alarm Funk. If that wasn't enough, I could retire to the Festival Hall just a few short steps away, and hear Billie Holliday's old protege 'Red' Holloway on his fantastic saxophone, with John Grisham picking up any slack in between, with intermittent visits to the ice cream stall, and fish 'n' chip stand also in order.

More of the same for Sunday, please. And granted. Today I was joined by Astrid, Anna, and at times Laura and her Quebecois friend. We moved around much more, sitting on steps that slid down into English Bay, with the waves licking our feet, and the sun kissing our necks. When the fire spray relieved itself of pressure water into our relaxed corner, we were treated to rainbows and even more celebratory mood from the crowds gathered for the jazz.

As the evening moved on into the night, the mood once again moved towards the Southern Americas, and the salsa rhythm danced through the melody of people. All races of humankind were gathered together, demonstrating the full power of the unity of music, and in true Vancouverite style, many were letting themselves go with the beats of the drums, the power of the trumpets, and the joy of the vocals. Splashes of red, yellow and blue were spread throughout the day, as cars tooted their horns to celebrate Spain's win. I was spending the day with two Germans. But football was unimportant. Today was too perfect to upset.

Sax and the City

Eclectic beats, ad lib notes, South American flavour and Rat Pack suits - the Vancouver Jazz Festival is in town.

With over 1,500 bands assembling in the city, it is a dream for someone like me, who loves the medium and pinches pennies at every opportunity. Walking down the steady slope into Gastown, the festival unfolded in front of me. I have come to know Vancouver for it's unpredictability - volatile and faceless one moment, edgy and relaxed the next. This Jazz Festival exposes the latter, and I love it.

At the top of Water Street, the pianist of English jazz quintet Empirical wafts out a mixture of chords and arpeggios, while his fellow entertainers jump in and out with scatterings of saxophone, trumpet, drums and double bass. The smooth grooves are only interrupted for a few short words just once in an hour, and spectators soak up the evening warmth as they lie back on the floor, drifting away with the music.

Along the road, there are the standard collections of hotdog stands, lemonade stalls and street performers, but the crowds gather at two ends of the street, where two stages are erected. After taking my heartbeat down close to flat-line, I picked myself up and made my way towards the opposite end of the celebration. A coffee and newspaper stop in between (I had to feel cool on a day like this), I arrived to the magical sounds of samba beats, Spanish song and South American salsa. A very different proposition from the Londoners preceding them.

Here, different races from Caucasian to Chinese to African to Latino were mixing in a fanfare of colour and energy. People danced with people they had never met, old with young, shy with extrovert, there was no-one left out. Here, the power of music was evident, as people embraced in the fun. The lead singer in this band spoke not a word of English, but he still had the crowd at breaking point, as he raised the temperature with his chants which, from what I could surmise, were along the lines of:

"Do you want this?" ("Noooooooooooo!" comes the reply from the crowd)

"So you want this?!" ("Ciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!")

Another man was alive with dance, as he supported the lead with his own vocals. A hysteria descended upon the spectators as they moved in ways they probably never knew possible (me included!).

After offering great entertainment for two hours in an evening fit for a fiesta, the group finished off with a conga, South American style (I know what you're thinking, and there was no 'Let's all do the con-ga!'). The trombonist, trumpeters, drums, and vocals all seeped into the crowd, leading hundreds of people on a fantastic snaking line around the dance area.

The Jazz Festival has already impressed with only the first two acts I have seen. With over a thousand still to go, in the next ten days, the city will be sca-ba-bado-bob'ing for some time yet!

The Numbers Game

My activities, divided by days, multiplied by friends and subtract one splash of rain, and there is a very positive result. It's been a numbers game these past seven days:

1 week, 2 sports

I knew I would be going to the 'ball game' for a while, as it was a SWAP organised event. As a sport, the American version of rounders is particularly dull. As it happens, the game we watched was a particularly dull example of a particularly dull sport. Luckily, baseball isn't about watching the game (which Vancouver lost), it's about drinking beer, eating popcorn and peanuts, and having fun with your friends! The match was followed by a great fireworks display, to celebrate the first game of the season. Also, as 114 SWAPers attended the event, Irish rowdiness was everywhere, and a group of Scottish rugby lads bounced off the IRA chants by removing their tops, crowd surfing and generally creating a fantastic atmosphere. The robotic chants (to music), and the fascist demands ("Make noise now!") of the Canadian supporters were sunk and drowned by the traditional European fandom.

After experiencing what I thought was my sport fix for a week, and was welcomed with a fantastic prize today- tickets to the BC Lions Canadian Football team!So, my second sport of the week.

Almost on the halfway line, the tickets I received from a prize draw were much more expensive than what I would have been prepared to pay to watch the CFL, and so I was ecstatic! I raced back home after work to pick up my camera, and then Maisie accompanied me to the game.

The BC Place stadium is an impressive, indoor, 60,000 capacity all-seater stadium, and we had prime seats. With American football being one of my favourite sports on this continent, I found the game of great interest, especially as there were some great plays and some great scores!

3 downs, 4 bases

The German girls (Astrid and Anna) had never encountered anything like baseball before, so it took some time to explain the rules. Gradually, through a mixture of my distracting explanations and Maisie's direct facts, the combination of pitchers, fielders, home runs and bases gradually became clear. It didn't make the game any more interesting, though. So we stuck to amusing ourselves with Mexican waves and loudness.

As for the Canadian football, it is different from the more widely known NFL, in the fact that it only has three downs to reach ten yards, not four. This made for more passing, a faster game and more excitement.

5 friends, 9 innings

The first couple of innings went pretty fast in the baseball, not least because the score was 0-0, with no hits, no runs and no errors after 5 rounds of pitching. Finally, it was Tri-City who broke the stalemate, hitting in two home runs and four altogether as they took a 4-0 lead. As it wasn't our team, we weren't impressed. I was lucky that I had some good company to help me through this hard time.

After nine innings, we were aching for the fireworks to start. They were marvelous. I had expected a five minute fanfare. Instead, we were barraged by a blitz of light and explosions. I struggle to think of a display that has matched it in recent memory!

20 cheerleaders

Just wanted to get them mentioned.

39-35, 5-1

Scores by which BC Lions won, and Vancouver Canadians lost respectively.

Lots of food, endless fun

Even though I have attempted to be healthy, I treated myself to a steak after the football, and chomped on at least two hot dogs in the past few days. Add to that popcorn, beer and peanuts and it hasn't been a wonderfully balanced diet. Now, I am shattered, and ready for bed. I need to conserve energy for swimming tuition with Astrid tomorrow, and then Jazz Festival on Saturday! Non-stop I tell you!

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Picture a perfect Sunday afternoon. The sun is shining, the community is buzzing, the BBQ is flaming, the bands are playing, and there no work to do at all.

That is the Sunday I have just had in Vancouver. Perfect. Commercial Drive, the coolest, edgiest street in town, was holding a ‘Car-Free Festival’, where they closed off the roads, and replaced noisy cars with brilliant entertainment.

Every block there was a jazz band, country group, Latin dance group, Moroccan drums or Jamaican reggae. In between, there were stalls selling anything from headscarves to Indian Head Massages. Restaurants and cafés spilling out into the streets, offering grilled salmon, ‘smokies’, ice cream and fresh watermelon.

This year, the Car-Free Festival had spread from just Commercial Drive, to other areas of Vancouver, including Kitsilano and Main Street. Each location had its own style- and I visited Main Street later on in the day- but the Party on The Drive was head-and-shoulders above the others. In the park, as the reggae band floated out their relaxed and rhythmic Caribbean tunes, spectators laid back on the grass while others danced in front of the stage or took advantage of the hula-hoops laid out for people to use.

The added bonus was that we were enjoying our hottest day for a fortnight, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Laura (French), Astrid and Anna (Germans), Priscilla (Brazilian) and I (English- quite a mixture!) whiled away our afternoon on the Drive, enjoying the music, sights and sounds. Afterwards, Astrid and Laura made their excuses, so Priscilla, Anna and I headed over to UBC for some food and a drink. We found a nice pub near the University campus, where we sat out in the sun and enjoyed as much of the day as we could muster. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to end a great Sunday.

Vancouver Art Gallery

Today, I took advantage of 'Donation Tuesday' at the Vancouver Art Gallery. Taking in the Krazy! exhibition, I managed to while away most of my evening in the grand old building on Georgia Street.

Find out what I thought at http://grahamreid.blogspot.com

Whiling weekends away

It wasn't such an action packed weekend for me these past couple of days. To be honest, I just fancied lazing around for once! Plus, the sun has gone back into hiding again, like a timid mouse, peeping its head out for a second and then disappearing into the depths of the floorboards.

I did tick off one item from my list of tasks, which was the Chinatown Night Market. I was hoping for a vibrant celebration of Far Eastern culture, peppered with dragons, historical warrior dress and szechuan sauce. Instead, I was greeted with "Bra and panties for $10", some dry and sticky chow mein, and kitchen knife sets. The only promise of entertainment was a large stage erected near the bottom of Keefer Street, in the heart of the Chinese area of Vancouver. Set on the stage was a bronzed, lifeless pig. I had visions of an anti-Semitic, primeval sacrifice to the gods, but it wasn't to be. The only thing that was killed that night was the couple of hours it took me to walk from my apartment to downtown and back. I hung around a long as I could bear, and then headed home.

I was greeted with an proposition to hit the town from Jackie when I made it back to my room. Never one to negate an invitation, I changed into my only dress shirt and met everyone at Kris' house, which was surrounded by the now familiar sight of drunken hobos and vociferous crack-whores. Their apartment block was, to my relief, a beacon of light within the dingy neighbourhood it sat.

To cut a long story short, I was much too drunk, and I parted with much too much money. But I had a good time, and I don't go clubbing too often, so I am not too distressed. The most annoying point was waking up the next morning with a sore, bloody knee and torn jeans, the aftermath of a stumble on the way home. Oh, to be a proud drunk!

Tired wolves and treetop adventures

I had been hoping to make it up to Whistler this weekend. Conor, Fran and Adam had said I could squeeze into their rental car as they moved up North for the summer. Alas, it was not meant to be. When they packed their possessions into their vehicle, there was no room for a small(ish) addition.

No problems, although all my pent-up excitement had to be spent somewhere else instead. I made a rush decision, and headed for Capilano Suspension Bridge. Tom and Astrid had already visited a few weeks ago, and had returned with glowing reports, so I thought it would be an adequate replacement.

It took four modes of transport, by land and sea, to finally arrive at the park, which was also well known for its Native influences. I caught the bus down to the Skytrain, which shipped me to downtown. There, I hopped on the SeaBus to North Vancouver, and then one more short bus ride finished the journey.

It was my first time on the SeaBus, which was amusingly named "The Burrard Beaver" (seeing as I have witnessed hookers on Burrard Street in downtown Vancouver). The journey over the Burrard inlet offered some great views looking back at the main city.

Once at Capilano, I had to use my pathetic blagging skills to convince the entrance clerk that I was a BC Resident. For once, I wasn't actually lying; but I had no proof of residency, didn't know my postal code and barely knew my address. Childish assurances on my part (like "I really am, honest!") seemed to do the trick, and I entered with a half price admission!

The Capilano Suspension Bridge Park had much more to it than I had anticipated. There were guides dressed in turn-of-the-century (20th, that is) attire, offering enthusiastic histories of the soil I was standing on. First, there was the colonial section, where I learned about adulterating Victorians, and wealthy prospectors.

Next, I met an aptly named member of a First Nations' tribe, John. He explained the way that Natives had come to give the park its name (Kia'palano, which means 'beautiful river'). He then educated us on 'story poles', more commonly named as Totem poles. There was one particularly interesting rendition depicted a fable of a tired wolf, and something and something (I admit, I can't remember what happened).

After Kia'palano, I experienced the main attraction, the bridge. It wasn't particularly terrifying, but it gave a great vantage point to see along the canyon, which it crossed. Many excited fathers rocked the bridge to the terror of their young children, and creaks were alarmingly loud in the centre of the structure. However, I have been assured that it can hold the weight of two jumbo jets.

The fun didn't stop at the other side of the bridge. Not only was I relieved I had made it with my life still intact, but I was amazed at how much more the park offered than I had expected! I strolled through the forest canopy on the 'Treetop Adventure' and walked along the Cliffhanger Walk.

After a couple of hours of exploration, I discovered that I needed to attain novelty stamps at all the sections, in order to get a Capilano Suspension Bridge Certificate! So I redid all the sections, and stamped my 'passport'. Some of the stamp stations were well hidden, and I imagined they were designed to test childish adults like myself.

In other news, I had my first Chinese takeaway in this, the most Chinese of all Canadian cities. It was exactly the same as Chinese meals I have had in England, to my dismay. At least it was half the price!