Beauty and the Beast. What Lies on the Streets of Lockdown.
It was important for me to go explore our city centre during quarantine, while it was still uncharacteristically quiet. Today was the day, before it’s too late.
I live in a suburb about an hour away, and I have heard that the city on quarantine was a must-see. What does a typically vibrant city look like during a pandemic? Let’s find out, because it won’t last long.
As I wrote about recently in The Gift of Time, I believe it will be all too soon when Covid-19 is a distant memory and we are back to ‘normal’ — a normal of busyness and crowds and stress and traffic. So off I go to discover the abnormal.
Boy, was it.
First of all, traffic going into the city was non-existent. Very few cars on a Friday morning, no congestion, no traffic jams. I was enjoying it so much that I actually drove slower than the speed limit to enjoy the luxury (my husband won’t believe that).
As I headed into Gastown, a funky area in the downtown core, it was eerie. The streets were empty, and there were very few people about other than the ones who actually live on these streets. I also quickly began noticing many images of closure signage, boarded up buildings, and artwork. As I parked my car and was plugging the meter, I was aware that I was feeling very uneasy. I was alone and felt vulnerable to any passerby that may want to cause me harm.
It is important to point out that I am not a fearful person. I take risks all of the time, and enjoy the excitement that goes with the unknown. This was different for me.
I had my phone in my hand, as I was using it to take pictures of the amazing imagery surrounding me. This in itself seemed somewhat unsafe. My heart was racing, and I was looking in all directions simultaneously in case any danger was lurking. Even as I write this, it sounds stupid. I would have felt safer if there were thousands of people around me.
As I was taking pics of the iconic Cambie Hostel, I struck up a conversation with the only person around, a delivery truck driver. I wanted to connect with someone and calm my nervous system down for a moment. I was in a somewhat sketchy part of town, and this well-dressed working man was solace for a moment. Believe me, I know how judgemental that sounds. Again, not like me at all.
I had purposely started in the Gastown area as I had heard that there were some cool paintings of Bonnie Henry and Elizabeth Tam — which I did find. The delivery driver commented on what a lovely day it was to enjoy the art, and that more was to be found on Robson Street. So off I went.
Robson, Vancouver’s Rodeo Drive, was also relatively deserted but not as much. There were a few more locals and a handful of tourists who were doing the same thing that I was — snapping photos of the soon-to-be forgotten.
Aside from fear, I also experienced a profound sadness. I felt teary experiencing the effects of a world pandemic, the thousands of lives lost, but also felt sad that we probably won’t change our behaviour as a result.
Why can’t more people continue to work from home and free up our roadways, creating less congestion and pollution? Why can’t we continue to go out less, spend less, and enjoy our homes and families more? So many hidden benefits are resulting from this crisis. The silver linings in a dark time.
