I often doze in public transit. When I say often what I really mean is: all the time. Up to now, as a matter of fact. But one evening, I was feeling thoughtful and took a look at my traveling companions. And feeling a big curious, I watched…. The readers, the professionals, the students, and all the other passengers. How many different origins were there? Not an easy question.. and one certainly more magical than mathematical.
They are all there around me.
Vancouverites.
Vancouver is known for the diversity of its’ landscape. Its’ mountains, its’ beaches and its’ buildings: what a pretty combination! But do you know this very diversity is to be found within the city’s inhabitants? Here differences are shared. Here one glimpses different faces. Here we hear all sorts of languages. Asia is not very far and we can even meet Filipinos. More rare are the Europeans but there are many Americans. Within the confines of the downtown area, it takes only a few seconds to tour the world. Yet I learned racism was indeed present. How can I believe this, seeing what I am seeing?
I usually don’t particularly like sports. But it all depends on the context. To experience the World Cup in Vancouver means meeting all sorts of supporters: the bars overflow with all the nations, proud of their countries but without real competition. We meet, we share, we joke, we cheer. The streets become a rainbow for this occasional event. Flags and face-paint of all colours brighten up Downtown at all hours. English is not their mother tongue, but not hearing it would be a bit weird! To be without the English language would be an irritant – like trying to communicate without being noisy.
A mix of cultures, traditions, habits and distinctions: a child would compare it to a vegetable stew, in which gurgle the most beautiful vegetables without any bitterness. Basically, the immigrants are the majority and are so well integrated. What a beautiful lesson in humanity.
A smooth ride. | Photo by Oran Viriyincy
‘Thank you’ cry out [Vancouverites] as they exit the bus.
Easy to say: it’s a running expression, respectful and courteous – and yet so rare where I’m from. This Canadian custom would be surprising in my daily life. In Paris, everyone shouts insults and rails against the subway; and lives a rat-race. In Vancouver, one gives thanks and smiles, one forgets the sadness of the overcast weather. I only needed to hear that phrase to realize where I really was. To realise I am nicely starting my four months stay in a new place. The kindness of Canadians has worked wonders on me. I feel so – well – welcome, before I have even made friends.
‘How are you?’ is something a stranger will say to you.
Finally, I let go of my suspicions a bit. I appreciate the good atmosphere. And I become aware of an omnipresent tolerance. I prefer to appreciate rather than compare. I want to meet, to give, and to share. The people are very pleasant and it’s nice. It’s not annoying – it’s rather encouraging. Loneliness has no place here: one must have a tad of audacity. And one’s personality suddenly rises to the surface. Not so much to reinvent oneself, but simply to nourish oneself with these new acquaintances. The meetings are enriching and they are abundant. It’s perhaps enough to leave in order to discover oneself.
They teach us about ourselves.
These Vancouverites.
Translation by Chris Herron
