If we all had a personalized paradise, mine would replay on a loop the six months I spent in Vancouver during high school.
The first thing I noticed upon getting there was that every color looked more vivid, like the memories we all have from childhood: trees were greener, buses a brighter yellow, and, most of all, the sky had a more intense, brilliant shade of blue.
It’s not just perception. There’s a long list of articles and Quora threads wondering why the sky is so blue over British Columbia, attributing it to factors like low pollution, lower humidity, and the effect of the ocean and mountains.
Personally, I think there’s something magical about Canada, something that makes everything feel better than it would anywhere else. There, you don’t mind standing in the snow with only a sweatshirt on; it’s not embarrassing to dance in a parking lot with your friends; a three-hour trip taken one afternoon to visit a new place feels normal, and the rain never stops you from going on adventures. In fact, you barely even notice it after a while.
Perhaps it’s the awareness that your time there is limited, that there are only so many moments to share with your new friends, skiing on Cypress Mountain as the sun goes down over the Pacific, falling in love with the view over Lions Bay, partying at Lahm Park, taking the ferry to Victoria, or getting lost downtown.
Maybe it’s the endless novelty of it that makes this place so memorable. At the beginning, everything is new: new language, new people, new habits. It takes a bit to get used to it, but even when you do, it’s still impossible to get bored. Every adventure offers something different, and there are so many experiences to live and places to go to that it’s almost impossible to complete your bucket list.
Let me tell you what my routine in Vancouver looked like: I would wake up, have breakfast, be late for the bus, run after it with my host brother, still miss it, and be late for first period. After the first two periods, we would have a long lunch break where I’d meet my exchange friends and eat the food we’d packed from home. We usually would buy a scone from the cafeteria for dessert and talk about the next place we would visit on the weekend or which party we would hit on Friday night.
I’m very lucky to have met two of my best friends in Canada: Clement and Florian. I met them on my first day of school, when I was alone at lunch, looking for someone to sit with. I’d arrived a week later than everyone else because I got Covid – which delayed my departure – and at that exact moment I was feeling very lonely. Fortunately, I remembered Clement from an online presentation the school had arranged with all the exchange students before we’d left our home countries. I had noticed him because he had a very ugly moustache and, lucky for me, he still hadn’t shaved it off when I arrived to school. As soon as I recognized his face, I desperately launched myself in their direction and said, “Are you guys exchange students?”. Later, they told me they were a bit weirded out by this random guy who showed up one week after everyone else and basically forced himself into their group for lunch but, fortunately for me, they were polite enough to give me a chance.
From that moment on, we shared every moment, memory, and experience. One of our last and most memorable trips was to Lake Alouette, an immense lake lost in the middle of a great park that is quite far from downtown Vancouver. After a couple of hours on the bus, we started hiking without really knowing how long it would take us to reach our destination. We’d organized this trip with a group of seven friends, who started asking how far the lake was, and we must have lied at least fifteen times assuring a very swift arrival to destination. The time passed as we walked along a beautiful road lost in the middle of the forest, with yellow dotted lines on the dark concrete and green mountains.
After another couple of hours, and having pissed off the whole group because of the unclear schedule, we finally arrived at the lake, only to be met by a menacing grey front closing in from the other shore. We could actually see the clouds moving toward us at a considerable pace, and, with no chance of going back before being hit by the storm, we decided to meet it by swimming in the water. Everything was fine until we realized that what was falling on us were hailstones the size of walnuts, at which point we quickly sought refuge under the rudimentary picnic structures. Once the hailstorm was over, we were able to enjoy the lake in total solitude, exploring and enjoying the splendid view that Golden Ears Park offered us, reflected in its now peaceful waters.
When it was time to return, we realized that there was no way we could make it to a station in a reasonable time, considering the long walk needed to get back to civilization. The only solution was to hitchhike, but, given our group size and the nearly nonexistent traffic, we didn’t have much hope. Of course, we had underestimated the stereotypical Canadian kindness, and we managed to get a ride after no more than three cars. The group was split up, and I ended up in the vehicle of a couple of young locals who were traveling around the country and living in their van. They shared some of their stories and showed interest in our origins and our experience as exchange students in British Columbia.
What I take away most from this story is that, in Vancouver, the unexpected quickly becomes the best part of your day. Plans fall apart, the weather turns, and yet somehow everything feels right. Maybe even better when you just let it happen. This is totally antithetical to my life here in Milan, where every bump in the road, every detour, feels like an exhausting and unnerving obstacle to be overcome as quickly as possible in order to achieve my goals.
Looking back on that day, soaked and freezing, surrounded by friends and strangers who felt instantly familiar, I realized how carefree and light we really were. This is probably what I miss the most about those endless lands that once belonged to the First Nations.
Maybe this is why, in this land of Tim Hortons and hockey, every sight is sharper, brighter, and more intense. Maybe it’s just nostalgia, maybe the atmospheric conditions. I don’t really know the reason, but truly, the sky is bluer in Vancouver.
