vancouver life

Even as a true Vancouverite (born and bred in the suburbs and now a city-dweller), I like to think I'm relatively self-aware. Vancouver – and the people who inhabit the city — comes with a specific set of unique quirks.

There's a lot to love about this city, and a lot to make fun of (yes, we complain about the rain while the rest of Canada is under 10 feet of snow, I get it).

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Rain gets blamed for a lot in Vancouver. And sure, it's adequately miserable and grey half the year.

But here's the thing: rain comes and goes. Some days it pours, some days it randomly stops and gives way to a winter sunset where everyone sprints outside to post an Instagram story like vitamin-D-deprived houseplants.

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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.

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For many Canadians, the idea of "Canada" looks something like this: a Tim Hortons drive-thru surrounded by snowbanks, a not-so-polite consensus that Edmonton is the worst city, a few small pockets where people actually say things like "eh" and "aboot," and Quebec doing its own phonetically aggressive French thing while filtering maple syrup.

Out here on the West Coast, we offer a slightly different idea of "Canada." One riddled with fresh air, too much athleisure, and staggering mountains that make you feel like you can do anything — until you try to climb one and realize that in fact, you can do nothing.

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People who move to Vancouver from other parts of Canada love to throw on a matching Lulu set, visit the Capilano Suspension Bridge, and take a sunset photo of Kits Beach captioned "can't believe this is my backyard." What do all of these things have in common? They indicate, in bright neon letters, that you are not (I'm sorry to say) a true Vancouverite.

Speaking as someone who was born and raised in Vancouver proper, if you've never been personally victimized by a dive-bombing crow, frequented Bimini's on Wednesday nights, or experienced a snow day after one single snowflake hit the ground, I regret to inform you: you're just visiting.

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