03.02.2008

vancouver day

It's an unfortunate tendency in life that if you go on a long, interesting and somewhat tiring expedition in search of something and then eventually find it the expedition feels rather more glamorous and rewarding than if you do not get what you were after. I know, "it's all about the journey" but actually I would much rather have found the Tennessee Williams play I was looking for yesterday morning than not have found it.

The expedition was, notwithstanding all of this, a reasonably good one. I began by walking towards the water (in a different direction to that which we had gone the day before when we went on a small trip on the cutest little tug boaty type thing you have ever seen over to Granville Island for doughnuts.) I went towards the port proper and the downtown railway station, and then over towards Gastown (where the sailors and their ladies used to hang out in the old days.) I was going to the slightly unfortunately named "Biz Books," specialists in books about the performing arts.

Alas, they only had the Williams play in a rather huge and heavy tome entitled Great Plays of the World Stage or something like that and it cost $44.75 before tax and so it was not really ideal for the travelling artiste. I was then directed to a second hand bookshop called Macloud's, but before I got there I found a handsome building to photograph, was asked three times for money, and discovered another second hand bookshop called Criterion Books, where I had to climb a flight of rickety stairs. When I got to the top the bookshop was so stuffed to the brim with books, not just on shelves but all over the floor, that the only path was a windy body-width gap between all the piles. It kind of looked promising, especially when the man behind the counter took me unerringly to the theatre piles. I let him do the looking. My play was not there; well, probably not.

Macloud's was great, really quite a large shop filled floor to ceiling with books. It was rather reminiscent of Foyles in London. I was assisted by a very friendly woman who had to fetch and then climb a rickety wooden ladder to peer through the Tennessee Williams selection. They had quite a few of his plays, but not the one I was looking for. She then directed me to another second hand bookshop, also not too far away. This shop sold books and jazz. Nice, although the man behind the counter was having trouble with the record player. They also did not have the play.

The final recommendation I had been given was a remainder shop for books. I had actually questioned this recommendation as I know very well that in my country sending someone to such a place in search of a play would be silly. She had insisted however, and so I found the shop and discovered that remainder shops in Vancouver are spookily similar to those in Melbourne and that indeed it did not have my play.

Enough. I was aware of the beginnings of fractiousness at the edges of my mind. I abandoned the search for the play, hard though that was, especially because I was not successful, and set about finding something to eat.

Walked back down to Gastown in a leisurely manner, heading towards a couple of places I thought might be interesting for lunch. I was enjoying the fact that this neighbourhood was older and more seedy than anything I'd seen in Vancouver so far (except perhaps the basement toilets at the library where we're performing in which crack is smoked in the cubicles) (seriously) when I suddenly found myself in a really nasty street and feeling quite nervous. It's the middle of the day I told myself, but it didn't help. It was scary; felt like I could've had a knife pulled on me at any moment.

One of the places I had thought to investigate for lunch was down an alleyway near there, so I abandoned that plan and quickly and firmly headed towards what looked like a nicer street in the distance. Just as suddenly I emerged into a street selling designer furniture at ridiculous prices. I found my other restaurant and replenished myself with a really delicious spaghetti with broccoli, fresh tomatoes and toasted pine-nuts in a gorgonzola sauce.

Made my way back to the library via Chinatown and a truly beautiful building called the Sun Tower, which was built on a hill, in 1911 (when it was the highest building in the British Empire) with odd angles, half-naked nymphs supporting the cornice half-way up the exterior, and a really pretty blue roof.

The show went well, we are now much more at home in this new space, understanding how it feels and works for the play, and we had a large crowd due to a good review yesterday in the Vancouver Sun. It is a complete contrast to the chaos of the Eaton Centre in Toronto, being less busy, less noisy and more focussed. As a result the show feels quite intense and intimate, and towards the end, more menacing. It's a bit like we're working on a film set, whereas the Eaton Centre was more like television. Daytime television.

The day ended with a wonderful meal with Sarah and two of her friends from Vancouver at a place that does modern Japanese tapas. It was really wonderful food and lots of fun. I was so relaxed upon my return to the amada that the one hundred or so dolled up and revved up teenagers on the footpath outside the nightclub and the thumping music from within the nightclub made not a ripple on the sea of my serenity.