How real do you want it?
Jul. 13th, 2006 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
"Downtown and in the rich areas, people can be completely cut off. They only see the prettiness of this city," David, my British co-worker muses, "I like working here because it reminds me of what's really happening."
"Can I have a banana?" there's a skinny woman at the gate. She holds the gate with both arms, her body bowing and swaying away like a windsock with the tip caught. She's either on drugs she shouldn't be taking, or off drugs she should be on.
"Sure," David grabs a banana from an open box and takes it to the gate. She mumbles a "thanks" and stumbles away.
"When you bus through the downtown Eastside, you see our poorest, our most desperate citizens. You know, it, uh, keeps it real," David smirks at his word choice, "and here, working here, with the crack and the prostitutes and the bottle collectors... it is real."
How real do you want it?
I live and work on the edge of the bad neighbourhood of Vancouver. The most notorious corner in Canada, Main and Hastings, is less then 10 blocks from my house. On my way to work, I pass a homeless man sleeping in the park and a prostitute waiting on the corner for her next customer. A group of addicts shoot up in the doorway outside my workplace. The vacant lot on the corner is an improvised dump where pilfered garbage bags have been ripped open and emptied of any useful or slightly valuable contents.
At home, we keep our recycling box under the deck. We used to keep it on the deck, until the morning where I walked into my kitchen to see a stranger on my deck, checking the box for returnables. We leave all our returnables in the alley where a man with a liberated shopping cart picks them up – the East side recycling system at work.
To me, this sums up how un-romantic the real reality is, when you are here:
On top of a cupboard on my back deck, I had stacked a couple of old litter boxes. They were clean, in that Russ had sprayed them with the hose, but they hadn't been soaped or scrubbed. That's why they were still outside, actually. We had bought the cats a shiny new box, with a roof and a filter, and the old ones were just sitting waiting a need.
They were stolen.
"Can I have a banana?" there's a skinny woman at the gate. She holds the gate with both arms, her body bowing and swaying away like a windsock with the tip caught. She's either on drugs she shouldn't be taking, or off drugs she should be on.
"Sure," David grabs a banana from an open box and takes it to the gate. She mumbles a "thanks" and stumbles away.
"When you bus through the downtown Eastside, you see our poorest, our most desperate citizens. You know, it, uh, keeps it real," David smirks at his word choice, "and here, working here, with the crack and the prostitutes and the bottle collectors... it is real."
How real do you want it?
I live and work on the edge of the bad neighbourhood of Vancouver. The most notorious corner in Canada, Main and Hastings, is less then 10 blocks from my house. On my way to work, I pass a homeless man sleeping in the park and a prostitute waiting on the corner for her next customer. A group of addicts shoot up in the doorway outside my workplace. The vacant lot on the corner is an improvised dump where pilfered garbage bags have been ripped open and emptied of any useful or slightly valuable contents.
At home, we keep our recycling box under the deck. We used to keep it on the deck, until the morning where I walked into my kitchen to see a stranger on my deck, checking the box for returnables. We leave all our returnables in the alley where a man with a liberated shopping cart picks them up – the East side recycling system at work.
To me, this sums up how un-romantic the real reality is, when you are here:
On top of a cupboard on my back deck, I had stacked a couple of old litter boxes. They were clean, in that Russ had sprayed them with the hose, but they hadn't been soaped or scrubbed. That's why they were still outside, actually. We had bought the cats a shiny new box, with a roof and a filter, and the old ones were just sitting waiting a need.
They were stolen.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-14 06:34 am (UTC)I would like to share with you this dream a friend of mine had about Vancouver. Quite powerful. When I find the letter I'll send it your way.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-14 11:47 pm (UTC)I would love to read that letter if you find it. You could email it to
no subject
Date: 2006-07-14 02:14 pm (UTC)I live just off of Commercial Drive, and right next to Hastings. I work the graveyard shift at a 24 hour gas station that is closest to the downtown east side.
We deal with people, and what remains of people after years of drug use, all night long.
What I find odd, though, is that the people in this city that cause the most problems aren't those who have no money, but rather, those that have too much. I have had more issues with upper middle class people than anyone else. They, in general, think they are better than everyone else, and are above the laws and rules.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-14 11:57 pm (UTC)That must be... interesting.
I guess it depends on what you mean by causing problems. I definitely agree that the people who are rudest on the street, the most aggressive drivers, the most "entitled" customers, etc., are those with a lot of money. And rich people tend to donate a smaller proportion of their money to charities.
However, my apartment was broken into a couple of years ago, my lawn chairs and Russ' bike were stolen at other times, and it wasn't the rich who did those things. Of course, it isn't so simple as poor = criminal, and poverty doesn't occur spontaneously... there's context to be considered.
I don't know where I'm going with this. I guess I agree with you that the people who make day-to-day life in Vancouver less pleasant are the rich, entitled people. However, there's no ignoring that crime is another part of our fair city.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-15 12:01 am (UTC)Dragging death from gas station guy?
Hard drug dealers?
Hit and runs?
Street racing?
There are a lot of things that only happer to those of middle or upper class people.
Murders kinda range all over the place, and theft is usually by the poor, or near poor.
But if you take incedent by incedent, the rich do more crime per day.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-15 12:32 am (UTC)You have a good point there. Especially when you consider "white-collar crime", which often hurts hundreds or thousands of people through lay-offs, dropping stock prices, etc. Oh, and political corruption is a rich person's crime too.
I think my original response shows one of the problems of rich people's crimes: they are less noticeable, less publicised, and so poor people get more then their share of blame.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-15 06:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-16 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-15 07:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-16 12:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-16 03:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-16 05:33 am (UTC)