This was a difficult question for me as I don’t usually love cities. So I thought I would talk about Vancouver, the city I moved to on January 8, 1976. I had quit University in November, and decided I need to move to a different city to be “independent”.
I remember my aunt drove me to the airport, and missed the turnoff. I wondered if my great trip would falter that same day. However, luckily she was able to get off the highway, turn around and get me to airport on time.
When we arrived in Vancouver, it was cloudy with a little bit of rain. But it was much warmer than Toronto that day. I somehow made my way (a bus?) to the YWCA in downtown Vancouver and booked a room. That had been my plan from the beginning. Then I went out to explore. I walked from the Y to an apartment on Davie Street where Doug and Sharon, two friends I knew from school, had moved to that summer. Doug opened the door and said “You’re here already?”, and welcomed me.
It was too cloudy to see the mountains. That came later, but as I walked up Granville Street and along Davie, I remember the great excitement I felt as I walked by all the small stores and street action as I passed by.
I think I fell in love with Vancouver because of the people and groups I met later, but those first days of wandering around, checking out the library, finding a temporary apartment near Robson St. to live in, exploring the Sears Mall at Robson and Granville, and taking my first trips on the Vancouver buses were intensely exciting. I didn’t know what I would do, or where I would go, but I knew I was on the move. I had meant to stay for a year or so, but I never went back to live.
I love these first person stories. It is such a great way to take time off from the insanity. You were very brave Morgan and please identify yourself on the post in future. I can guess it’s you. ~ Radiance
Nice website!