Vancouver - Past and Present
As your coffee roaster … and as a writer, I suppose it would be impossible to not project a touch of my experience into the coffees I roast for you and to the blogs I write for you. Inevitably, our experiences shape our future actions.
Nearly three years later since Dad passed, June still feels a little heavier than the other months. In Seattle, the weather fluctuates between short-lived bursts of sun and the sort of dreary, cooler-aired cloud cover unaffectionately referred to as June-uary. But, it’s also Father’s Day month and Men’s Mental Health Awareness month. Given the life experiences I have collected, I have felt a little more emotion of late and I would say that my coffee roasting has skewed a little into the heavier, fuller-bodied chocolate bombs with the coffees offered at the shop. How interesting that emotion can integrate into a craft so subtly.
Even more perplexing is that this journey to Vancouver, BC actually happened over my birthday weekend in March. But, I couldn’t quite get myself to write about it until now. We hold on to many experiences and perhaps even unintentionally bury them. And sometimes, without our conscious control, they surface, ready to be shared.
Nemesis Coffee | @nemesis.coffee | https://www.nemesis.coffee
Nemesis was most recently ranked as one of the Top 100 Coffee Shops in the World, and specifically, came in at #15. Visiting was definitely a surface level reason for choosing Vancouver for this trip.
Using the technique I’ve spoken about on when to arrive at a café, we were ushered to a corner table as we began enjoying our pastries. I would say that the pain au chocolate and The Queen rivaled what we experienced in France. One can’t earn a spot on this Top 100 list and not take their craft seriously. A flat white from Ethiopia and one from Guatemala arrived at the table. Two sips in and I started thinking about how many years it had been since I was last in this city.
Memories are fleeting and can make us feel all sorts of things can’t they.
You see, the last time I was in this city I was married to the wrong person. I didn’t go into that marriage knowing it was the wrong person — that would be crazy. Instead, time passes, people change, and the wind sort of caught our sails in opposite directions. Man is it hard to fight nature and the passing of time. You can try of course. But Mother Nature and Father Time are undefeated.
Perhaps then it would be in our best interest to learn to see and accept the signs of change.
Shortly after our morning pastry and coffee, we decided that we could use some brunch. I normally do a lot of research on a city prior to visiting. I study the coffee shops, the bakeries, and the neighborhoods so I can get an idea of how to navigate through a trip. This tends to work pretty well, but not always. Sometimes, barriers are placed along your chosen path to test your resolve.
The walk to brunch was not a walk in the park. The condition of the infrastructure and people living along the way was a reminder that we are all only one, maybe two, decisions or life events away from a life that looks nothing like how yours is right now. This 15 or so minute walk reminded me of my Mom. There was a point in high school when my Dad came into my room before school and told me she was gone. She had spiraled to the point where she was thrown into prison for running a drug ring. I had no idea this was going on. Demons lurk in the deepest shadows of our hearts.
I have forgiven her, and we speak occasionally. But the scars are there and they will always be. We grow around them. And hopefully, we a little luck and enough discipline, we can find our way to something worth discovering.
Nelson the Seagull | @nelsontheseagull | https://www.nelsontheseagull.com
We all have light and dark within us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. A phrase spoken by one my favorite Harry Potter characters.
When you walk into this dim lit bakery, you will fall in love with the craft I promise you. The wood floors creak with every step. The smell of baked goods wafts with notes of caramel and if you look closely, I swear you can see flour in the air dusting the wooden tables and chairs. Order anything you like, and I do recommend the avocado toast. It brought to mind a similar breakfast in Edinburgh.
Halfway down the street on the way to Nelson the Seagull, a different version of me would’ve turned around and found another place to eat. But this version of me? I prefer to experience the reward of seeing something through. The detours and reminders along the way keep us grounded.
I have been struggling with the changing times lately.
I remember the first time I visited this city was nearly 30 years ago. Born in Bellingham, WA it was easy to make the sub-30 minute drive to the Canadian border and given my families’ favorite sport was hockey, it made for easy trips to see the Canucks. Somehow, before the internet and viral geo-tagging, my Mom was able to figure out the exact time and place where her favorite team, the visiting New York Rangers, would be exiting the facility after their morning practice. There were high hopes of securing autographs.
My Mom is a fighter I’ll tell ya. A multi-stroke survivor now, she grabbed my Rangers hat and stuffed it in the face of each player as they walked slowly from the stadiums’ exit in their three-piece suits to the team bus. After all was said and done, I had a hat with 7-10 autographs on it. A job well done where determination was rewarded.
You see, I remember a simpler time in this life. Before noise and TikTok and staring at the fucking screen all day. I remember a time when AI wasn’t writing peoples blogs and when we appreciated hard work and art more. A part of me will always ache for this time. I suppose I am happy that I can say I lived through it.
We spent the next couple of days driving and walking through the many neighborhoods and parks. Vibrant and full-bodied I’d say.
The trouble with visiting a city of this size is the inevitability that you’ll miss something. FOMO can really kick in if you let it so you just do the best you can with the time you have. Select a few coffee shops and neighborhoods to explore and spend your time in those places. The other strategy is to bounce from corner to corner and see as many things as possible, which I find to be exhausting. You end up with a trip that feels more like a checklist than an adventure worth remembering.
Before we set out for the day, we stopped for coffee about 15 minutes or so after they opened their doors.
Pallet Coffee Roasters | @palletcoffee | https://palletcoffeeroasters.com
Pallet does a really nice job of being a people pleasing café. It’s like a medium-roasted coffee. You get a little of the sweetness of the terroir of the coffee and you also have that subtle chocolately note that most people enjoy in a milk-based espresso drink. They have coffees that bookend this style as well. So, if you’re somewhere in the middle of the bell curve in terms of how you take your coffee, I think you’ll feel right at home here.
The breakfast toasts were well done, and I sensed a good day on the horizon. I learned a long time ago that a good coffee can prep you for what’s to come.
It must have been around 2003. My senior year of high school when my Dad was around and teaching me how to drive. Sometimes, memories can blur if we don’t bring them to the surface every now and then. I believe it’s important to share them.
We came up to Vancouver for the day, spent some good time together and hung out at his girlfriend’s house. We stayed a little past dinner, and pops had a few Canadian lagers to say the least. To be safe, Dad asked me if I could drive us home. No big deal I thought as I pretended to not be nervous. I didn’t have a driver’s license and had only just begun to learn how to drive. No time like the present to embrace being uncomfortable. Dad reassured me that I’d be okay.
We got in the car, got oriented to km/h the best I could, and he mentioned all I had to do was keep with traffic and I’d be golden. Now completely dark outside and roughly 20 minutes into the 2-ish hr drive, the heavens opened up and a torrential rain storm borrowed from the Twister movies splattered the windshield. I don’t think my knuckles could get any whiter. Somehow, Dad wasn’t panicking. He just sat there in the passenger seat and talked me through it … guiding me home.
I couldn’t help but feel emotional on the final evening of this birthday trip.
We just finished exploring a park and waterfront area and, feeling nostalgic for the tapas we had in Barcelona, decided to find a Spanish tapas restaurant. We had reservations and decided to head to dinner early. Off to the side of the street, I saw an older man stumble over himself and fall forward. It didn’t ‘feel’ right so we stopped, got out, and headed over to him.
After some thorough questioning from Lauren about history and medications, we felt comfortable enough letting him go without the need to call for medical assistance. We watched from our car as he walked away to make sure he’d be okay. Now late to dinner, we spoke to the hostess and after some light jabbing and telling her what had happened, we got lucky enough to be seated. The owner was working head of house that night and we got to talking to a couple sitting next to us who so happened to be locals. We talked fashion, life, art and travel.
Aside from the incredible food that rivaled anything we had abroad, the experience was stellar. After our new friends had left, the owner came by our table and let us know they had paid for our dinner in secret.
The next morning we packed up our bags, got in the car, and started along that same drive I made with Dad over 20 years ago. But this time was different.
No rain storm. No pitch black sky. And I’ve driven, and learned the rules of the road, in more countries than I can remember. This city has changed a lot since all of those memories so many years ago. I suppose I can’t be sad that they’re over, even if some are painful. I’m just happy that I got to live through them, and now, live with them.
We headed back to our city, and although there was a different person in the passenger seat this time, I could still feel his presence there. Guiding me home.
Happy Father’s Day.
