Canadians like to believe we're united by a few sacred institutions: Tim Hortons (fair), politeness (debatable), and a shared, blood-deep obsession with hockey (not really).
The reality? We are wildly different depending on where you grew up — and nowhere exposes that faster than Vancouver. A real none-of-these-things-is-quite-like-the-other situation.
Because, despite technically being part of the same country, Vancouver operates on its own, slightly damp frequency. The culture is different. The survival skills are different. And what may seem exciting to some (Hollywood North) is truly just a nuisance and a traffic detour on the way to school for most.
I can spot someone who was born and raised here from a mile away. Partly because Vancouver is secretly a small town disguised as a city, and partly because certain shared experiences quietly give us away within minutes of conversation.
So, if you think you understand Vancouver… consider this a test. Here are eight truths only locals will fully recognize.
"Vancouver" and "Vancouver-Vancouver" are not the same thing
If someone says to you they "grew up in Vancouver", there's a strong chance they're lying to your face. They mean Surrey, Langley, Coquitlam, or even, outrageously, Tsawwassen — all fine places that are absolutely not Vancouver-Vancouver. Technically, these places would be considered the Lower Mainland. But nobody outside of B.C. knows what that means, so for ease, these fellow Lower Mainlanders lie. I can't blame them.
Vancouver-Vancouver, by my definition, is anywhere within roughly a 25-minute drive of downtown. Unless you're in North Van or West Van. That's within a 25-minute drive (depending on bridge traffic) but doesn't count as Vancouver-Vancouver either.
People who actually grew up here instinctively make this distinction within seconds of meeting you. It's less about geography and more about a vibe verification: I grew up in the city, not the suburbs. (Even if it's barely a city at all).
Our hockey fandom is situational
I'll tread lightly here because hockey fans can get a bit heated, but other Canadians truly cannot comprehend the fair-weather relationship this city has with the Vancouver Canucks. Leafs fans may be permanently miserable, but by God will they be sticking by their team — watching every game, wearing that jersey, and clinging to every shred of hope until the end of time.
When the Canucks are winning? The city unites like never before. Strangers hug, and it takes over Vancouver in an overwhelming, sometimes dangerous way (see the 2011 Stanley Cup riot for reference).
When they're losing? We boo. We walk out of the arena. We emotionally detach and instead drink a trillion beers while watching the lacrosse game.
Give us time. It's a young franchise. Emotional resilience takes generations.
Coyotes were part of our childhood education
A core memory from my youth was learning that my elementary school teacher (located within Vancouver-Vancouver limits) was surrounded by a pack of coyotes on school property. (If my memory serves, he survived). We had an annual assembly where we'd gather to learn how to protect ourselves during inevitable coyote encounters.
As you can imagine, this was terrifying for eight-year-old me. We were taught to make ourselves "big", "loud", and to "bang pots and pans". Thinking back, I guess this was a metaphor of sorts, seeing as there was obviously no space to carry a pot or pan in a JanSport backpack.
All this to say, if you did not grow up with the imminent threat of a coyote attack at recess, you're not a true Vancouverite.
Bald eagles are basically crows to us
We don't get excited by the sighting of a bald eagle.
This was radical to my boyfriend when he moved here, and he felt it necessary to point out every time he saw one. If you didn't know, the Fraser Valley hosts the largest gathering of bald eagles in the world.
At this point, it's basically (sorry for bird people or staunch Americans), just like seeing a crow.
Vitamin D is a required supplement from November to March
I'm not joking around about this. I know people from back East will roll their eyes. You're complaining about rain?! Have you ever experienced a -100,800 degree blizzard where your eyelashes freeze, and hair snaps off? I hear you. It's colder there.
However, as a born-and-raised Vancouverite, I advise everyone not to underestimate the power of the B.C. gloom. It is so much more than mere weather — it is a psychological endurance test ranging roughly from November through March.
Everyone I know owns vitamin D supplements, and most have tried at least a few iterations of SAD lamps.
Film sets are entirely unimpressive to us
Elsewhere in Canada, spotting film trailers can be cause for excitement. Here? You can probably text your friend, who's in said trailer, and they'll tell you how brutal the lead of the show is in real life.
The reality of Hollywood North consists of about 1% glamour and 99% generators, catering tents, and people asking you not to walk through a shot while you're late for your hair appointment.
Trust me on this one, the sparkle fades around your third fake New York street corner.
Light layers are necessary
It's scientifically impossible for me to have hit menopause, and yet, Vancouver weather during the shoulder seasons makes me question it.
You leave your house to face frigid sideways rain. By mid-afternoon, it's grey and mild. By sunset, it's 5 degrees warmer, the sun is making it feel 10, and the sky looks like a tourism commercial.
True Vancouverites understand the power of the thin layer — an entirely foreign concept to our other Canadian counterparts. The thin layer promises comfort throughout the day without ever having to sweat through a sunset.
We love sustainability but will complain about bikers at every turn
Fun fact: Vancouver has one of the largest urban cycling networks in North America. This is very on brand for us. We support green living. We believe in sustainability. We compost. We even have little glass jars for our pastas and such.
And yet... Anyone who grew up here will, at any chance they get, complain about the bikers.
That biker came out of nowhere. It took me three times as long to get where I was going because I was stuck behind a biker. How many times do I have to say, a bike is not a car?
We would never admit this publicly or in a crowd. But you should know, maintaining this hypocrisy is integral to being a Vancouverite.
The views expressed in this Opinion article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the views of Narcity Media.
