The air was hot, right from the moment the sun peaked over the mountains.
We started out on our daily pilgrimage and as we rounded the corner to the bustling
street, it became apparent that we were the minorities here. We passed the sweet shop and the tall, lanky man with a long grey beard and white turban arranging the produce in front of his shop. Two men with bad comb-overs sat at a table in front of the small barbershop, speaking quickly in a language I didn't understand, inside a radio loudly played Punjabi music and it spilled out into the street.
I smiled at each of the Chinese ladies I passed, they stood solemn faced in their sunhats waiting for the bus but avoiding eye contact.
We followed a beautiful young east indian woman as she turned off the mainstreet and strode under the towering chestnut trees. I eyed her enviously in her green and blue sari, the ribbons of fabric around her neck dancing with the wind. I was dressed in suffocating denim capris and a thick t-shirt. It was stifling and I longed to float in the breeze and feel the coolness of the shade.
We passed a house still in the beginning stages of construction, Andrew commented that it would make a fine museum. He pointed out he large curved wall at the front of the house that would soon hold a multitude of arched windows. A museum. I smiled, enjoying the wonderous workings of his young mind.




This morning the air was cooler than yesterday and that was a welcomed relief.
We had finished the day before with a trip to Granville Island in hopes of finding a most beautiful gift, and we were successful.
This morning we started chipping away at our daily 38 block trek. I paused to wait for a sprinkler to move off the sidewalk, Andrew, feeling uninhibited, chose to run right through it. I laughed at his exuberance.
As we neared the church he began singing "Oh Canada". I instantly "sshhhhed" him, and then wondered why I had. I told him never mind and he carried on all the way to the steps of the church.
On the walk back I savoured each piece of shade on the tree lined sidewalk. I turned north and headed towards town. This was my neighbourhood now, my neighbours, my street. I was comfortable.
The old brick schoolhouse stood three stories high and in the arched doorway stood two teenagers. A boy and a girl, facing each other with their arms wrapped around each other whispering secrets. Through the window on the second floor, a man in shorts and a tank top taught summer class to uninterested students.
A man in a wheelchair asked if I wanted some reading material and tried to hand me a religious pamphlet. I politely declined and thought I should bring this man a bottle of water, it was sure to get warm sitting on the sidewalk.
Regretfully, I did not bring him any.
The last stop was to Starbucks. As I walked in I noticed a familiar face. Tamara Someone-or-other, perhaps from the news? She was very obviously pregnant and an older woman stood next to her giving what she felt was very useful advise on pregnancy and childbirth. Tamara was gracious and chatted politely, then put on our sunglasses and slipped out the front door.
I was grateful for my anonymity.
As I reached for my frappucino, the young girl behind the counter handed me a second. She explained that she had made it by accident and asked if I wanted it. I told her I wouldn't know what to do with it. She smiled and said "give it to a friend". I don't actually have many friends here, I thought. My face must have given it away because she continued with "make a new friend."
Unfortunately my house is less than a block away and the only people I came across were older men with stern faces who would not make eye contact. So I popped the frap in the freezer and opened the front door to let a cool breeze blow through before the afternoon heatwave hit.......