Steps of Ancestors

This street musician was bagpiping on the site of an old graveyard in Stanley Park yesterday, here in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. My mother's family spread across the continent when they immigrated from Scotland in the 1920's. Some settled in Halifax, Nova Scotia on the far east coast; some out here in Vancouver, on the distant west coast; the rest of us in Detroit, right at the center of North America.

Having now visited both of the far-flung Canadian cities, I see I can easily feel at home there, especially Vancouver.
Everywhere I looked were traces of the Scots, from the bagpiper, to meat pies in the delis, top Allsorts licorice and shortbread in the shops, the plaids of the clans here and there, and of course the ruddy faces so familiar, each looking like they could be one of my long-lost aunts or cousins or grandparents.

Vancouver is such an easy-going, friendly, pretty city with lively cafes, pubs and parks. The population is a diverse outpost of the Pacific Basin, with many Asians arriving in recent decades. Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, Korean, Tagalog, Punjabi, and Vietnamese all can be heard on the downtown streets.

The harbor is busy with both commercial and private boats. Downtown is crisscrossed with bridges and ferries connecting the islands and peninsulas that make up the greater Vancouver area. The "public markets" are filled with fresh fruit and vegetables, lots of it organic produce. The hotel's policy is to only change sheets and towels if guests request it; cards in the rooms note how wasteful this practice is around a globe that faces increasing shortages of vital resources. The hotel also urges guests to recycle.

All this was part of a refreshingly progressive local culture, tolerant and supportive of the many interracial couples; friendly and curious about visitors, safe, clean, cheerful. The seafood is subperb. The drinking water is sweet and fresh. The air feels pure. It is my first visit but only the first of many, I hope.