Farewell to Vancouver

I've left Vancouver. I've moved out of my apartment, posted my valuables home, assembled my luggage, sold a few things, given away others, and thrown out a whole pile of junk. The Scotsman in my genes was particularly peeved about the giving away and throwing out parts, as I was sure I could make some cash by finding the right buyer or three, but my departure date wasn't swayed by fancy and desire. It was an implacable, irresistable boundary, and there was nothing else but to burn baby burn.

I was aided in my tasks by my ninja moving crew, Ryan and Wes. I called five different thrift stores and none of them wanted my furniture, so we were reduced to stashing the remaining pieces in various alleys, industrial bins and abandoned haunted houses around Vancouver. I hope the hobos, ghosts and hobo ghosts make good use of them.

I'm stopping into Van one more time on the rubberband back to Japan, so there wasn't a final moment of closure and psychic transformation, but I did feel a bit emotional looking out the window of the plane as it wheeled over the city. Two and half years is a significant chunk of my life, and I've had some really good times. It was the right time to move on though. Next stop: London.