Steam clock. Brick-clad buildings. Cobblestone paths. And the lustre of shop windows enhanced by their sleek, black frames.
Gastown is an absolute dream. Kinda New York, yet wonderfully west coast (walking along Water St. you still get a peep of the mountains at the end of each block of buildings).
Its elegance characterized by the depth of rich browns and rusty oranges surrounding you from head to toe. Explore the area on foot and once in a while you’re sure to be hit with bursts of bright colour found on painted walls and, later, the cluster of shipping containers as you leave the buildings and walk over the Main St. overpass towards Crab Park.
For me this area represents the feeling of instant travel to another destination, not unlike teleportation. Growing up, admiring the beauty of Vancouver as a whole was one thing, but Gastown was truly something in itself. Upon getting a glimpse of brick each time I’d come here, I’d get that all too familiar east-coast-Americana feeling. My heart would feel giddy. My mind picking up cues from a little dirt here and there, the hustle and bustle of taxis carrying busy people, and the piercing whistle of the steam clock somewhere far off would transcended time and space to land me instantly in New York. It was truly like any 90’s television show coming to life. Or that image I’d had in my mind — perhaps inspired by cinematic masterpieces and magazines — about art, artists, anything world-class and generally everyone with creative purpose living and breathing a city that reflected so much of their hard work and culture. Imaginative personalities all in one place, and for this very moment, I was there too.
Here is a collection of images from a sunny walk, once upon a time, through my favourite piece of Vancouver.
