Victoria

I had a huge post here, about my home city.  About how it is a city of two personalities.  A city of the rich alongside the streets of the poor.  A place where a homeless shelter is only a block or two away from a private superyacht moor.  A place where a denny's sits across the street from a posh mall.  Where everyone's concerned about the environment but ignore the people that sleep in bus shelters every night. 

It was a post about how much I love my city.  About how, even though there are a fair share of silly tourists, 99% of them are awesome, and make me love this place even more.  And how, each time they ask me to take a photo for them (and I've been asked twice this week alone, and it's the middle of november), a part of me feels pride that I live in a place that illicits such excitement.

But that post didn't convey the wonder I have for my home.  Neither does this one.  I guess I just wanted to say that, while I sometimes rag on my city in this blog (and other places), describing the homelessness, the police paranoia at times, the crime, the drugs, and the grunge, it's only because I know that everyone already knows about the beauty. 

The tourists stop and pose before the Empress hotel.  And the Parliament buildings.  And they bring those photos home and say "this is Victoria."

A little over a month ago, I saw a crazy homeless man screaming until he was beat red in the face.  And I laughed when I saw two japanese tourists snap a picture.  But thinking back on it, I wish more people would do things like that.  So that, when they go home, they can show a picture of a mentally unstable man in front of a grungy strip club and say "this is Victoria,  too".