moving house — literally!

Wednesday morning, up early to catch the 7:55 ferry, making sure I had everything packed for a day of teaching and an evening in Vanc’r taking in a concert, I spotted this out the window and moved fast to grab my camera and get outside for a few shots. I’d heard rumours that a reclaimed home was being moved onto the island and suspected that’s what I was seeing.
If you look closely you’ll see that there are two trucks and a long flatbed and you’ll see that this is a big house. Last weekend when out on a run, I’d noticed trees being hacked at all along the boulevards and wondered why. Walking with a concerned neighbour this week, I’d heard that the chopping was to accommodate the house’s move to an interior lot on the island. On Wednesday morning, though, it was all I could manage to get these shots and be on my way.

The last few days have been whirlwind: I took my students to a First Nations film symposium being held on campus on Wednesday. One of the films particularly, Finding Dawn (about missing or murdered aboriginal women), was very emotional, and I found myself unable to stop crying afterwards although I managed to be fairly discreet about it. I was so grateful that one of our First Nations program’s resident elders spoke afterwards, drummed, sang, prayed, and helped us put our sadness into a manageable frame. The sadness clung through the day, but was considerably soothed by the seaplane flight to Vanc’r. One of those magical days when the West Coast comprises more shades of grey than seems possible — with the softest complementary yellows and blues topping any of the Spring Collections’ sophisticated colour groupings. However clichéd it may sound, I did feel as if I were suspended in a Toni Onlypainting.

On the other side, Paul met me and we walked back to the apartment so he could change, then we grabbed the concert tickets and headed out for a quick bite at the sushi place up the road. We got to St. Andrews Church on Burrard about 6:50 with doors scheduled to open at 7 and there was a long line snaking ’round the building with hundreds already waiting in the rain. And we quickly confirmed our suspicions that we might be the oldest folks in this crowd. Some waiting in the rain, some hustling for seats once inside, and then an hour of sitting and waiting — a church is not a great venue for that part of the show (and two women’s toilets with a crowd of 12-1500!). But for acoustics it was wonderful and well suited to showcasing Corrigan’s impressive voice. (Hawksley Workman’sreal name is Ryan Corrigan; I know, I don’t get it either). Some call his music bluesy-roots, but I’d go more for cabaret-pop-rock — if you know Rufus Wainwright’s music, there’s some similarity. The church pews, unyielding, restrictive, didn’t allow for as physical a response as the music deserved, but the crowd was attentive and appreciative from first song to last (in fact, continuing their applause and pew-thumping to demand–and get–a second encore, arguably challenging Corrigan’s vocal health for the next concert!). Many songs were from the new album which I only picked up after the show, so unfamiliar to me, but we were both really glad we’d made the effort to see this guy (and his musicians) live — so much fuller a sound than the recordings. Seated more than halfway back, as we were, I missed much of the lyrics and most of the between-songs chat, frustrated as my seatmates laughed — hearing aids are little help in this kind of situation, and at times like this, I realize how much I rely on lipreading.

I flew back to Nanaimo at 8:30 yesterday, taught my 11:30 class, visited the physio, had a yummy bowl of Pho with Paul, and then we finished watching Firefly and Serenity. What a shame this series wasn’t allowed more time to develop some of the characters, just hitting their stride by the end of the single season. I’m grateful the movie at least brings the series to a close; I’m still smarting at the abrupt end to Joan of Arcadia.

I’ve been out today photographing the barged house now that Nickel Brothers Moving have set it down at its new site. Click on the Nickel Brothers link to see photos of the house in its original setting. And then look at where it is now and imagine the work it will take to get it looking as if it belongs here. The big yellow plastic container in front is the septic tank — we are on city sewer here, but we have holding tanks where solid wastes break down, and we pump the blackwater to the city system. That pile of rock was excavated for the house’s basement-to-be (a recent innovation on the island — very few of us have basements here).

And here, as in the next few shots, you can see how the house is propped up, waiting for its foundation to be built around it.

Over the next few days, I hope to show you some of the shots I took suggesting why my fellow islanders are so dismayed about the way this new home was brought on the island. While the technology is impressive, the wide swath such development leaves in its path dismays many of us, symptomatic as it is of a growing preference for 2400+square feet, where 1700 was once considered huge.