7 uniquely West Coast things that would shock people from the rest of Canada
Life hits different west of the Rockies. 👀
These West Coast things would send people from the rest of Canada into cardiac arrest... probably.
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.
Our version of the country is more expensive, wet, and slow. However, it's also a place that lets you exist in multitudes.
If you haven't been, it's time to experience this essential (and objectively superior) side of the country for yourself. But before you do, here are seven things that make the West Coast unique and that'll almost certainly surprise newcomers from other parts of Canada.
The water
You'd think this one would be obvious but when I asked my boyfriend (an Ontario transplant) what most surprised him when he first visited B.C. he said "all the water."
If you don't know, Vancouver's downtown core is one slice from Science World to Gastown from being its own little island.
No matter what edge of the city you're on, you'll have a view of the Pacific Ocean, mountains in the distance, and a fleeting sense of peace that will almost always be interrupted by at least three people sprinting down the seawall with their dogs.
The sushi
When I lived in Ontario, I made the mistake of going to all-you-can-eat sushi. Suffice it to say, the salmon looked as if someone had drained the pink colour right out of it.
I learned that day that if you're going out for sushi in most parts of Canada, you have to strap on your heels and prepare to pay a hefty bill, because that's the only way it's going to be any good.
In B.C., however, you can show up in sweatpants post-hot-yoga to a little hole in the wall joint and have sushi that's actually fresh, actually tasty, and actually very cheap.
Here, chefs are working with seafood that was literally swimming that same morning. Think perfectly aged sushi, oyster bars where you don't have to worry about food poisoning, and menus built around what the tide decides to deliver. Yum.
The identity buffet
Vancouver is the ideal place for anyone and everyone who experiences decision paralysis — because you don't actually have to decide who you are.
In Calgary: it's country music or bust. In Toronto: you better learn to walk fast and have an opinion about condos. In Saskatchewan: learn to love the visual aesthetic of "flat." In Vancouver — and I mean this in the least-cheesy way — you can be whoever you want and change it five times before Friday.
You can be an artist that rents a live-work loft in Mount Pleasant. You can be a marathoner who wakes up at 5 a.m. to run the seawall before going to Georgia Street for your finance job. You can be a backpacker who camps, rockclimbs, and lives out of a van. And you can even switch aesthetics seasonally — snowboarder that drinks Guinness in the winter, sober beach yogi that meditates in the summer — nobody will bat an eye. This city is powered by multitudes.
The cost of living
Of course, there's a catch to living amongst all this West Coast beauty and it's called the cost of living.
The price of rent in Vancouver alone, I imagine, could send someone from Winnipeg into full-blown cardiac arrest.
Groceries? You don't want to know. A parking spot? You could probably buy land in New Brunswick for less. But on the flip side, when your backyard is nothing but mountains, ocean, and at two bald eagles soaring dramatically overhead, it usually feels worth it.
The religion of rain
The rain on the West Coast is terrible, gloomy, and mildly soul-crushing — there's no sugarcoating it. And if you've never been here between the months of October-June, it'll most likely come as a depressing shock.
However, every so often, there's this moment right after the rain stops that feels cinematic. It's like the world was built for my teenage Tumblr-era self: the air thick with petrichor — that earthy, intoxicating smell that rises from the ground after the first rain.
Everything suddenly feels richer, cleaner, alive. The trees glisten, the pavement steams, and for a few fleeting minutes, the city looks like it's been filtered through nostalgia. This is when you put on an emotional playlist, go for a neighbourhood walk, and scoff at yourself like girls do in movies.
Before you visit the West Coast, just try to buy into the religion of rain.
The unspoken uniform
You'll notice quickly upon visiting the West Coast that everyone dresses like they're prepared to spring into action at any moment.
Leggings, fleece and windbreakers are among the things we've all come to terms with wearing that are objectively unfashionable. Even if your biggest climb of the day is the steps to a coffee shop, you'll look like you're ready to summit Everest. And that's perfect.
The year-round golf
I can't personally speak to this one. But apparently you can golf here pretty much year-round due to the mild climate. So if you're into visors, polos, long walks, and hand gloves, welcome to your new promised land.
The West Coast isn't just a region — it's an energy. One that smells of cedar trees and smug well-being.
Come for the scenery, stay for the sushi, and don't forget your rain jacket (and your second job).
The views expressed in this Opinion article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the views of Narcity Media.