Photo by Colby Stopa | Flickr

The journey preceding my arrival in Vancouver almost five months ago was nothing out of the ordinary. Nonetheless, I think it is central to understanding how I have been feeling since arriving in the distant patch of land that is Vancouver.

I come from Catalonia, a small European nation in search of independence. I have had the opportunity of living abroad for several years, most notably in Estonia, a small but dynamic state searching to erase all traces of the former Soviet Union, and then in France, a large, ancient state currently questioning its many social and societal exceptions. Canada, by way of Vancouver, now represents a fourth reality that I will rub shoulders with for a while.

Up until now, my impression of these countries were strongly connected to ideas of homeland and nation. Popularizing the emancipation cause of the Catalonians, understanding the haste of the Estonians for hyper-modernization and assimilating the Franco-centrism of the French, were not only givens of daily life in those countries, but also specific ways to understand the roots people had put down in their territory.

Since arriving in Vancouver that previous life experience seems outdated. Words such as homeland and nation are almost devoid of any meaning. For the first time in my life I’m dealing with a country where national (re)affirmation is neither a necessity nor a desire. The tie to the nation is so tenuous that sometimes even I forget that I live in a country called Canada.

I’m aware that these lines might have been different had I written them in Saskatoon, Laval or Iqaluit rather than Vancouver. But it so happens that I write them while in Vancouver, a place of otherness without precedent, where all the world’s geography is represented. I would say that people here are Canadian almost by default. Since so few people were actually born here, it seems that to live here, more so than other places, is a career choice. Aside from highlighting the differences between Canada and the USA, the question of national identity doesn’t seem to propagate any attachment to the city and the country experienced by its inhabitants. When all is said and done, people here are Canadian and that’s it, end of discussion.

However, I never cease to be amazed by the countless people who have chosen to drop everything to come and live here in Vancouver, where it is impossible to just come by chance. As a person with the tendency to act on impulse, I was unaware of the socio-demographic idiosyncrasies of Vancouver and doubted the reality of this kind, tolerant and calm welcome that the city seems to offer to everyone.

Based on my previous experiences abroad, I was ready to systematically explain which nationality was behind my awkward accented English. Instead, I find myself in a position where people find it completely irrelevant whether I have an accent or not. So, I am just one of the crowd and for once I don’t see that as a sign of mediocrity.

That being said, I remain a little divided about my Vancouver experience. I have trouble taking part in the general infatuation that the city seems to spark. I certainly understand that a work in progress such as this city, with its dynamism and constant reshaping, will generate enthusiasm among its citizens. But I must admit that I miss having a conceptual foundation of homeland and nation, where there would be an essence of cultural ideals and values to preserve and pass on to new arrivals and future generations. Oh well, don’t take me too literally. I suppose these are just the usual trials and tribulations that an individual from the old continent must confront when he arrives in the new world.

 Translation Barry Brisebois