The soliloquy lady and her mom from last year. Their recent visit made me smile.
I hadn’t intended to resurrect Tank’s View this year. For a variety of reasons. I came to believe my tales lacked fair context. To exclude this was to portray my street as a bit of a circus starring an ever-changing gaggle of shady characters.
They are people, of course, with complicated lives. No one aspires to live on Vancouver’s downtown eastside.
I’ve lived in this area for more than a decade — walking, running, shopping and riding my bike. Main and Hastings (google it) is three blocks from my street. Never have I been harassed, cat-called or made to feel uncomfortable or scared. Residents of Canada’s poorest neighbourhood give me a thumbs up and a smile when I run past them. They call out ‘good morning’.
The worst ‘resident’ of the area, in my opinion, is rich guy Bob Rennie. He hosted an out of control party last year at his nearby corporate office. A party that broke noise bylaws. The Vancouver Police fielded dozens of complaint calls. Shame on him.
Rennie’s contempt for the neighbourhood
I’d love to live here forever (despite Rennie and his ilk). Not likely given Vancouver’s over-the-top real estate prices.
Things are different on my street this year. It’s quieter. Some of the folks still visit. The soliloquy lady was back this week. Topless and arguing with her mother. I’ve not heard or seen the shouting couple who used to pass by my place several times a week. I always wondered what kept them together when it seemed like they never had a civil word.
So, where is everyone?
Fentanyl. Just a guess. No where more evident to me than on my street.
Here’s a photo gallery from last year:
Tank’s View 2016
Tank’s View 2016
Tank’s View 2016
Tank’s View 2016
Tank’s View 2016
Tank’s View 2016
Tank’s View 2016
Where has everyone gone? I hadn't intended to resurrect Tank's View this year. For a variety of reasons. I came to believe my tales lacked fair context.