Hoping to improve my photography skills without actually entering a classroom, I recently joined a photo-walk group and it’s turning out to be an amazing opportunity to get my creativity flowing, meet fellow photography buffs as well as see my town through brand new eyes.
On last weekend’s walk through Chinatown, between the scents, sights and sounds of the market and the beautiful, peaceful zen of the Chinese Gardens, I slowly but surely fell under the neighborhood’s spell.
At the end of our walk along Pender Street, underneath Chinatown’s dragon-gated entrance, sits what once was Vancouver’s first opium den, now reincarnated into another life as a slightly run down diner. I peered through the smudged windows with my nose against the glass and I swear I could hear, in the shadowy corners, the stories whispering through the layers of flowered wallpaper. Stories waiting oh so patiently for someone to finally stop and hear them. I thought for a moment, then swung open the restaurant door, making the bright, hanging bells jingle and dance, found a tiny table in the corner, sat very, very still…and listened to the whispering walls.