Vancouver Diary, June 2025.
Yesterday was full of complex emotions. We took an Uber downtown to Slowside studio to get tattoos. The driver politely let us out in a side street saying this was the safest spot for a drop-off but we were a block from the Main Street address. As we walked down from East Hastings, the street people density increased - drug addicts, the homeless and destitute filling the sidewalk. A couple of times we had to step in the road to avoid snappy dogs or people pushing laden carts. It was oddly quiet, apart from the dogs. Several times we stepped past prone bodies lying in spilled coffee and piss. Many of the street folk were hunched over, lost in an internal world, squatting, leaning or in a huddle sharing gear. Tourists, locals cyclists and kids walked past as we did. Sirens were heard se
veral blocks away and a couple of ambulances cruised past, paramedics at the ready. One parked on East Pender, the other circled slowly.
Inside the doorway of the studio, we punched in the code and were let inside. On the first floor corridor, a row of black doors had signs for a fashion house, a GP, Chinese herbalist, IT consultant and Slowside Tattoo. We buzzed again and entered a crisp white studio, with a corner aspect and wide wall-length windows overlooking the crossroads with it's Chinatown dragon gates. Soft music was playing. Water dripped from recently watered ferns and houseplants. There were framed prints and flash designs, and shelves with books on art and tattooing. The contrast was acute.
We took turns to get tattooed. Lounging on sofas to wait our turn, we debated last-minute changes of designs. As Jessie prepped the thermal tracing paper for the first tattoo, I studied the pattern of slick white ceiling tiles. Being on a different continent seemed to be encouraging global reflections. How much are humans influenced by our immediate environment? Those people that everyone passed by like silent grey street trees; how easily we were able to turn away from their predicament? The welcome relief of the white studio. Imprinting art on our skins to carry familial totems with us.
The chill vibe in Vancouver had settled over us, infectious as the laid-back accent, lilting up at the end of sentences with an optimistic 'eh?' Neighbours at the apartment had informed us there were really no unsafe areas of Vancouver. Even the dodgier streets of downtown were patrolled and monitored to provide medical help and advice to those willing to take it. Prostitution, drugs and illegal activities were coralled into a square zone that received targeted attention from the city.
We pulled t-shirt sleeves over second-skin and gathered our belongings, snack boxes and drinks cartons. Wiser to the street layout, we skipped streets to emerge in central tourist Vancouver, full of cosy cafes, vinyl stores and museums bordering green parks.
The bus to Kitsilano was packed with end of the day commuters, hanging straps to chew the fat with bus neighbours. They threw us knowing looks - you may be tourists but we're all world travellers here.
We walked a few blocks of Kitsilano at night collecting mental snapshots of ideal homes with gardens strung with fairy lights versus Halloween hangouts for doomed kids. The scale of construction plots made us feel like hobbits. It was as though Canadian Redwoods set the tone for the size of home-building. One plot covered several acres of forest bordered by ornamental hedges and gates with barely a glimpse of the monstrously-large block-sized residence and sweeping driveway beyond. It had to be owned by a millionaire/rock star/property magnate. But it was next to another of the same scale. And another, in fact there were several blocks of immense homes amid tree-rich landscapes. The ruler-straight streets and zoned blocks were still a novelty, having grown up amid England's higgledy-piggledy medieval villages.
Leaving Kits soon to explore the wider landscapes of Canada. We'll be taking the trails that wind through the Rockies, en route to Kelowna, Banff, Jasper and Edmonton. Places almost mythic since I first watched Roxanne and Northern Exposure in the 80's, and gorged on dudes in lumberjack shirts, with liberal immigration sentiments and a fondness for maple pancakes. Okay. Let's go myth-busting....
#tattooparlour #vancouver #kitsilano #canadianconventions #travelwriting #canada2025
