YVR6: The Last One

It seems entirely appropriate, given the fact that I actually live in Vancouver now, to cut it out with the YVR posts, so this is the last. And a grab-bag it is.

Contrary to the beliefs of some unscrupulous commenters, I’m loving Vancouver. L-O-V-I-N-G. I mean, when I’ve been able to get out of the apartment, that is. I’m working remotely (same company, same job as in YYZ) but not on my own PC — still in transit between there and here and not due to arrive for another week — on a borrowed laptop with limited memory and processor power. So a normal, 8 hour workday takes about 12 hours to achieve (as opposed to the regular 10).

I only today got out to do a bit of exploring and gym-inquiring and arrived home with a big smile on my face. Loving. The weather’s been great — cloudy, off and on, but some sun every day since I arrived. Those of you who love sushi will not want me to gush unnecessarily about the awesomeness of the fish here, so I won’t. But I will say that Champ has begged me not to drag him for another tapas dinner at +α until at least next week. Try the Toro Garlic Pepper there. No, really. The staff are warm and awesome, as is the music, all accompanied by a big pitcher of Sapporo.

I found a barber and got a good cut. Trading an old Korean guy in  Toronto for an old Greek guy in Vancouver? Painless.

I’m loving the complete absence of dry skin here, though I forgot until last Monday how crappy every shave I’ve ever given myself in Vancouver has been. I have no explanation for this phenomenon. Maybe the water?

Oh, speaking of water… Until our stuff arrives next week (fingers crossed), Champ and I have been living a superspartan existence, very John and Yoko (minus the giant Dakota suite (and, hey, me being the elder makes me the Yoko, right?)), sleeping on an inflatable bed on the floor. Anyway, on Monday night I got up to get a glass of water and ran the cold in the kitchen sink. Only it was warm. Then hot. Then hotter. “Oh,” I thought (sleepily), “maybe I just don’t get these Euro taps and I’ve pulled when I should have pushed.” Nope, hot in both directions. Dang.

Next morning, the plumber arrives. Looks like they attached the cold water line to the dishwasher and the dishwasher-hot line to the cold tap. Grrreaaat. This makes one who tests for a living exceedingly cross, as it could have been averted by… testing after installing. A half-hour later, he’s installed a new fitting and we have cold water.

Next next morning, we’re standing — no table — having our coffee and I notice water on the floor. Did we drip while transferring the Brita jug to the fridge? Um, no. Stepping on the kitchen floorboards caused water to bubble up between the joints. Uh-oh. Plumber comes and this time the fitting he installed the day before was not crimped properly. Did he test that? But now the floorboard joints are warped and buckling. The contractors arrive and decide the waterlogged boards need to be taken up, the concrete dried and the boards replaced. And this is what that looked like:

Water, water, everywhere

Then they haul in an industrial dehumidifier and two industrial fans to run all night. Like trying to sleep on an airport ramp, it was.

Morning comes and the concrete is dry. But the contractor decides the new floorboards probably won’t match the old ones closely enough. So? The entire floor is pulled up. Bang, bang, bang, saw, saw, bang, saw, bang. I am, by the way, working in my office while all of this is going on, or trying to.

Day three sees some truly amazing and professional floor installation, and they get it almost all done. They finished today. The trim will be done on Monday. Fingers crossed. I can only imagine the nightmare had our stuff arrived this week. Fingers crossed.

So today I was able to get shitloads of testing done for work, giving me license to do some touring and the checking-out of a swank gym named after a basketball star which looks like it’ll be the one for me. And some errands and diversions:

Substation (Burrard Street, Vancouver, 19 June 2009)

Now, I’m no fan of streetmeat — and don’t tell Champ I did this, since I kinda felt like I was cheating on him while doing so — but when I passed the lineup-free Japa Dog stand in front of the Sutton Place Hotel, after passing it in the car every couple of days and seeing huge lines, well, I had to, y’know? Japa Dog is famous, in a tourista kinda way, for their Japanese take on hotdogs. It was good. Really good. Not quite orgasmic, although Ice Cube came ten times! No, really:

Ice Cube Came Ten Times!

I’d have another. I mean, when your servers offer a restaging of Godzilla v. Mecha-Godzilla, who can resist? Big smile on my face.

Japa Dog Girls Do Godzilla v. Mecha-Godzilla