People watching is so fresh for me in my repatriation from Dubai — especially in Vancouver’s quirky cultural pockets. For the last two years in sterile Dubai there has been; no 40 somethings at the skateboard park, no men pushing prams, no pets, no lesbians kissing on the bench, no 19-24 year old demographic, no elderly walking to the grocery stores. No overgrown lush greenery, or cool breezes in the shade of the trees. No Richmond ditches, no swamps, no frogs.
Dubai has no dog culture. (The very few pets are seen getting a walk by the Filipino nannies.) Enjoying the dog humor in Pixar’s “Up” at a Dubai movie theatre felt odd. But Dubai is a city that has no walkways, or sense of pedestrian traffic. In Vancouver you could enjoy only driving on the weekend — to Whistler.
I can enjoy wearing my heels on Robson Street — but in trendy Yaletown — my style better be one up on those highly groomed Pomeranians at the Cafés. The middle class dog culture on Commercial Drive doesn’t compare. (Children actually seem to rate higher on the class system.) I am enjoying my culture shock coming back to something familiar, but at the same time feeling out of place.
I trade my heels for rubber boots as we dog-sit my brother’s Cairn terrier. We watch young families throw dog toys at Trout Lake’s shallow end. Children wearing Crocs and socks giggle, making their innocent mistakes in dog obedience with no judgment from the adults. “Dog humor is so much nicer than people humor.” says a passerby.
My son finds more interest in the swamp today. He has been asking for nets since we swam in the Arabian Gulf. As he peers in the sludginess, he is excited about tadpoles that could have featured in X-files. The little dogs cool off prancing in the yucky marshy bog of muck my 6-year-old considers Heaven.
“Mom! Look a frog!!” he says to me.
I leave the safe gravel and climb down onto muddy bank. A frog patiently looks at us from the surface.
“Can we catch it?!!” My son is so excited, I can’t help but try.
I step on one log in my tall waterproof rubber boots and try to reach the frog. I step across on another log, but it is not secure, it’s floating. I step back and the frog skims the very surface towards us. Closer, but still out of reach. My sons and I are quiet, focused, a still life. I must help them see their very first frog.
The frog sits calmly infront of us. We persevere. I can see his whole slimy green warty body in the clear water. Beside him is some peat moss. PERFECT! I think. Slowly, quietly I step over him onto the peat moss that immediately gives way — and PLOP!!! I am chest deep in absolutely cold stinky Yuckiness! Dis*gust*ing, Aagck! I realize quickly there is no help coming and we laugh our heads off at Mom in the muck. “It’s ok Mom. We’re not going anywhere special today.” says my four year old.
I get over myself as quickly as possible and give my son my wet muddy phone from my pocket before I climb out of the reeds.
Walmart Fishing Nets 18.99
Rubber Boots 9.99
Catching a Frog – Priceless.
Catching frogs at Trout Lake Vancouver