The Embassy

February 12^th -16^th , 2010

I left Hope late morning on Friday. I was overwhelmed with the fact that I would get to reach the Pacific ocean, the destination in mind since early October. I had been on the road for 4 months, 1 week, and a day. My friend Matt who rode his bicycle from Guelph, ON all the way to Vancouver had actually done it in less time, which made me chuckle as I was exiting the mountain ranges of the interior.

I didn’t even bother powering up the GPS as I drove into the heart of Vancouver, I just wanted to get to the ocean. Downtown was getting ready to start the opening ceremonies for the Olympics but it wasn’t my objective to take part of it just yet, this day was about more than that for me.

I looked up at the compass in the van and pointed myself west. I figured that if I drove west long enough, I would happen upon the ocean and I did. It was like seeing the mountains for the first time, the immense feelings of accomplishment, relief, and humility were too much to handle as I made my decent towards the untamed beach. I thought I’d go dip my toes in the water, but realized that it wasn’t enough to just get my feet wet, as it never is, and decided to submerge myself in the cold February waters because I would only be here, for the first time, once.

I must say it was cold; but, what kept me warm momentarily was the flood of memories going through my mind: sitting in my grandmother’s living room and learning how to play the guitar I had been carrying with me this entire journey; nights spent with my uncle as he taught me how to sing and be more than a hobbyist with my music; writing the songs with my friends in Toronto which fuelled my vehicle, my body, and my passion while bartering my way through the country. I felt like a reborn musician. I sat on the beach for a while, looking out to the city from a distance and with Olympic security helicopters flying overhead, patrolling the coast, I made a quick sandwich lunch and enjoyed the moment.

I managed to get a hold of Carson a little later, after walking back up the hill to the van. He had gotten a hold of me a few weeks prior after receiving an email from a friend saying I was in town. This is an interesting story I must say….here goes.

After meeting Suzie in Thunder Bay, back in October, at Colissimo’s music store where I’d bought my guitar 9 years previous, she was kind enough to take it upon herself to contact some of her good friends in the Vancouver area and let them know about the Good Faith Tour. Her good friends then took it upon themselves to contact the band Jackie Treehorn to let them know I would be coming to town. Carson, drummer and extraordinary human being, took it upon himself to look up my myspace and listen to my music. He then sent me an email through my website saying that I was welcome to come and jam with him and the band during the Olympics. They had a few gigs lined up and if I needed a place to stay, I’d be welcome in their home. I quickly responded to this random act of kindness and informed him of my approximated date of arrival.

I called him that afternoon after my swim. I drove through downtown to see some of the excitement of the opening day and then drove over to “The Embassy” where I could have a quick shower and some dinner.

The Embassy is the name given to the house which used to have Thunder Bay tenants. That night I met his awesome girlfriend Lindsay/lead singer/artist, and roomates Kyle/last of T-Bay tenants and Lindsay K., or simply Zee. I met some more band mates that night too: Chelsea/vocals, and Loric/saxomophonist. Bass, keys, and guitar couldn’t make it out until the next day for the gig but we still jammed, ears wide open.

The next day we were getting geared up for a house party, Jackie Treehorn was one of the bands set to play that night. I found out through the guys that the city has quite the house culture. People get together at each others’ homes instead of meeting at the bar all the time. An old idea but a great one at that, I found it made for a huge circle of friends as they round robin each others’ places for hosting.

I met the rest of the band, Kirby/Keys, K-man/guitar, and Geoff/bass. All the guys were really great players and equally great people. We had a blast jamming some more all the while inviting musicians up to play. I soon realized that everyone was invited to the party, from hipsters to punkers, point dexters to lawyers, programmers and seniors. Nobody cared about the walk of life you’re from or how you look while you’re there, they’re just happy you’re there! The night’s event was called the “Bro-lympics” and some were dressed in athlete attire for a little satire regarding the protest that revolved around the games.

Photo by: Steven

I wasn’t able to go see sporting events during the games because they were a little out of this barterer’s budget; but, we went downtown quite a few times during the week. The sky trains and streets were always full but this only meant the party was still going on downtown.

The first night we went down was for one of the many free concerts being offered. By the time we got in line and stepped on to the grounds we caught the Vancouver act Mother Mother, a pop rock band which has been acquiring some fame in the area in the past few years. Still wanting to walk around the festivities, we decided to keep doing so after their set. The energy buzzing through the downtown core was inexplicable. Everyone was in their best of moods. We met so many people that night just walking around. Strangers making friends as friends met strangers. In a way it was bittersweet because, though you hoped this would never end, the Olympic spirit would probably leave with the games for most, unfortunately.

One evening, Carson and I decided to go do some busking on the streets to pass the time and hopefully make a bit of money. Busking passes had been issued for the events but since we knew we didn’t suck, we thought we’d try our luck anyways. No one came to shut us down, even the cops were stopping to enjoy some of our songs. I think the passes were a way to evict unwanted pests who might be bothering the city’s guests if this were the case. We, on the other hand, ended up making enough to cover our expenses for a few more days but it wasn’t the best of busking scenarios as people were mainly walking by to get somewhere specific, not having enough time to stop and listen like on a leisurely Sunday stroll. We needed a different strategy, so we set another busking day with hopes of trying a better spot.

For any musician reading this who hasn’t tried the street side of their art, I highly recommend it. Imagine playing in a bar where the crowd is changing every 5 seconds. You only have five seconds of your music to engage them and sell them on your craft. It makes showmanship and performance depth much more pertinent, though we would catch a bit of a break on this end of things later on that week.