My first day in Vancouver and my first thought was to head
down to the waterside that I could clearly see down an adjacent side road, it
also excited my curiosity that the waterway looked wide and there were
mountains a short distance beyond, some with snow on. Now this was more like
it, sun, city, sea, mountains and snow, what more inspiring and delightful could
I hope for. So off I went and soon found myself on a wide promenade snaking
between the water and the great towers of apartment blocks, hotels and office
blocks. Calling them blocks seems a little unfair to them as they were nearly
all tall and slender, almost elegant. Standing there taking in the view across
the water my assumed sense of being able to easily orientate myself let me down
yet again. I thought I was looking out westward and the land and mountains over
the water were Vancouver Island. It was Jim of the lovely couple Jim and Kew
who, a couple of days later when we met up, would take me by the shoulders,
point me at those same views and mountains, inform me that this was north, that
I was looking at North Vancouver and Grouse Mountain behind it, and that
Vancouver Island was way off to the West and way beyond anything I could see
from downtown Vancouver. Aside from not really knowing what I was looking at I
was fascinated by being there and soaking up the beautiful and fascinating
world around me. I may not have been impressed by the hotel but it was, for me
in an ideal location with easy walking distances to city centre, the waterside,
the beauty of Stanley Park and its setting as well as the more ‘small town’
feel of the West End district of the peninsular, and that chunk of land is the
commercial core of Vancouver. So down by the waterside on the morning of that
first day I did my best to drink it all in. Seaplanes taking off and landing
with surprising frequency for sightseeing flights, boats heading in and out,
people out enjoying themselves amongst dramatic scenery, there was plenty to
drink in. I quickly clocked a bar/restaurant in the style of Joey that was
located on a pontoon adjacent to the promenade, I went to it that evening and
had a very enjoyable meal of wild salmon and a glass of local wine. My idea of
a healthy meal.
Another welcome aspect of
the more domestic side of this part of town was that it held out the hope of
finding a laundrette, laundromat, coin operated laundry, even on such a mundane
level language can lead you astray, and it did, or at least got me and others
confused. After not being able to do any laundry in Toronto and then being 4
days on the train with more than another week of my trip to go, I needed to
launder some cloths. I could have taken the easy route and handed them over to
a local dry cleaners and paid a fortune for someone else to overdo the task,
but I wanted to do it myself. I was capable, had done it before, and just
needed that coin operated laundry, so asked the hotels reception for where I
might find such an establishment. I made it clear I wanted a coin operated
laundry. First of all they could not work out what I meant by a laundrette but
then they directed me to a street a block away with, allegedly, two such
establishments. Off I go to scout out the area and find two dry cleaners.
Enquiring in one they did not know of any such place as I was seeking but would
act as a go between for the type of laundry cleaning I was seeking, for a fee.
In an email back to my travel agent contact in the UK she went on the web and
found two establishments that advertised themselves as said coin operated
laundries. I also enquired in the local Wholefoods store if they knew of any
such place, there ensued a chain reaction of questions amongst some staff and
customers. They and the travel agent came back with similar suggestions in one
particular small area well away from where I had walked so far, one place even
had “coin operated” in its title. So, the following morning, two bags of
washing in hand, I set off for the longish walk to this provided location,
marked up street map in hand. It was an interesting if a “where the heck am I
going” walk but getting to the general area it looked promising as it was
clearly a community shopping hub in a not particularly affluent area. Walking
up and down the relevant street twice and finding one dry cleaners, I gave up
and sought help. The first person I asked was, just like me, a visitor to the
area and so did not know of such a place. Then walking on I found one of the
places, but it was closed down and clearly out of business now. I asked a second
person about the supposedly second such laundromat, I was asking a postman on
his rounds and so was pretty he of anybody would know. What I had not reckoned
on was that he was profoundly dumb so, with hand gestures apologised and
pointed me at a fortuitously adjacent door. I thanked him and turned to see
that the door gave access to the local community policing unit, so in I went. A
longish discussion ensued where the three people discussed which shops had
closed, moved, or did not exist. They went on line for me and found what I was
looking for, marked up my street plan for me, and wished me luck. I was
beginning to feel that sheer luck was the only thing that might tip the scales
of my search. The new location was as far on from the hotel in the opposite
direction as this area had been in this direction. But I had the washing with
me and, although frustrated and wearing of the search, I set off. Getting there
after yet another not quiet magical mystery tour, I then started looking for
the city block number sequence to suit the shop unit number I had been given.
Also I was clearly going to be looking for the shop front that looked like it
might be a laundrette, and saw none, even when I was sure I was on the right
block. This is where the habit of very many shops, offices, etc, not
putting their street number on their doors or shopfronts is a real issue. There
was a community centre where I thought the laundrette might be so went in to
ask if they knew of the laundrette. They had no knowledge of it but said that
the number was in the middle of the block opposite where there would be a
doorway to accommodation above. Going over the road and looking around the
doorway I eventually spotted an old faded sign down to one side for said “Hot
Sox Laundrette.” At last, so through the door, up the stairs, round several
corners avoiding false turns, the siren call of a tanning lounge and there it
was with that distinctive smell and sounds. The lady that ran it helped me
understand what the system needed from me, and I was away, relieved to be
getting that necessary laundry done at last. There was an amazing story that
the laundry lady told me about her grandfather, but that is for another day. So
back to the hotel to drop of the laundry, and out again the Wholefood
supermarket because I had already spotted that they had delicious lunch offers.
That was going to be my preferred place for a snack lunch with a wide variety
of offers on all sorts of foods.
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