Well, little did I know that the snowy streets and clear sunny skies would predict something good happening in my life. The giant whale that swallowed Serge will finally spew him from its great belly onto our frozen shores this Saturday evening. China lost its appetite for him, apparently not so hungry for April, either that or they craved someone else. There is a God.
Despite all the traffic hassles and slippery hills, the snow really is pretty to look at. The normally barren, scrawny tree branches are thickened with marshmallow puffs. Ugly mud hills in abandoned lots are prettied by clean, white blankets, deceptively resembling giant snow piles. The snow even sticks to the barbed wire fences, weaving a wall of fluffiness, softening their sharp metallic edges. I feel like I’m living in a city of gingerbread houses, with gumdrop chimneys and smartie sidewalks, icing-sugar clinging to the sides of telephone poles, and dallops of whip cream resting on rooftops. Mmmm, now I’m getting hungry.
Why does snow always resemble food? When I was a kid, I used to imagine that the dirtied slush in the gutters was mashed potatoes and gravy, the bits of rock and mud were the meat and spices. Don’t worry, I never ate them. Balls of icy snow became mint patties and sticky coconut flakes. We used to make snow pies and cookies, baking them in our tree-stump ovens. We also used to make dirty snowpeople, with coal-packed genitals and snowball boobs. Food and sex, that’s always on our minds even as kids. Self-gratification is so instinctive by nature.
Back to our weather patterns, it was raining, snowing and slushing from a coat of dark, low clouds that enveloped the mountains when my brother landed last Tuesday. For all he knew, he was still in Ontario; the weather was no different. He asked me if it was always this dark, even during the day, and if it affected my moods. I told him how quickly you get used to it since you don’t have a choice. I tried to convince him that a pretty sunny day here makes up for all the dreariness. He only brought a thin coat and regular shoes, expecting milder weather. I felt for him when we walked to the restaurant in the blowing wet snow that stuck to our faces and hair, causing his lower lip to shiver. I hope he got to see the mountains today when he took off on the airplane. As I was travelling to work on the skytrain, I saw a plane floating out of the horizon, tilted upwards. I wondered if that was him, so I silently waved goodbye in my mind. It was so good to see his gentle face, his friendly smile, and laugh at his jokes, relieving all the tension in my shoulders. I was glad he did get to see how glittery it can get here. I hope he saw the ocean too. Our waterfront is so much more stunning to look at than Toronto’s.
Vancouver
Versus
Toronto 
Enjoy the brightness while it lasts!
Try not to fall on your ass or slide into oncoming traffic. The forecast is calling for more snow on Saturday and Monday. What is happening to the land of constant rain and green pastures?
blaak sheep 
Comparitive analysis
Somehow, I missed this post. It’s funny how much a person can not appreciate what they have. I’ve always lived in the Lower Mainland, and therefore I am extremely accustomed (some might say bored) with the Vancouve skyline. When I visited my cousin in Toronto this summer, I found so much more that was interesting and beautiful (in my opinion) than what I see in Vancouver in that city’s skyline. In fact, I have a remarkably similar photo taken from Toronto Island showing the CN Tower and the Stadium (complete with a roof…how novel).
But after seeing your post, I now see the difference. Mountains, glorious mountains. And not the wee ski hills of Ontario. My cousin drove out of his way to show me the most inappropriate ski lift. The hill up which it lifts skiers is so small that the laws of physics and perspective don’t even come into play. I walked up a bigger hill to go to school every day.
Toronto…you may be the centre of the universe, but we have terrain, dammit.
Biscuit