Vancouver Nightlife

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This Time Was Different

Usually when I go to an iF3 event I am on my feet filming for at least 10-12 hours per day, talking to people, climbing over stuff, walking back and forth from end to end of a stadium, wandering around the athlete staging/warmup areas, and maybe trekking back-and-forth to the track or the pool. Add to that the time in the morning and at the end of the day spent charging batteries and offloading footage. This means in the nighttime there's scant time left to find whatever food spot is still open and have a nice, chill dinner with someone from one of the national federations or teams, then crash at my hotel for as much sleep as I can squeeze-in before getting up and doing it all again the next day.

But this time around it was different. Yeah, I was still working, talking to people and showing clips, but that's not nearly as exhausting as filming the whole event. And now my wife was with me. Anytime Chelly and I go to Vancouver, we have to make it a nightlife thing. Remember, Vancouver is not very far away from us, and we actually get up here a couple times a year. We have been all over this town for live music and parties. Our go-to spots are Gastown, the old-timey historical downtown area, and Granville, the new-timey party street.

Punjabi Party

After the event on Saturday, our neighbors invited us to a party. I say "neighbors", but this was our host family, actually, the ones who owned the BnB and the big, beautiful house on the high street above it. One of their nephews had just become the father of a newborn baby boy and they were throwing a big backyard party to celebrate. This meant LOUD Punjabi music and a delicious Indian buffet (3rd time eating Indian food on the trip, keep counting). Javan and Chelly came over, grabbed some food, made a few minutes of smalltalk, but disappeared back into the house pretty quickly. They said it was just a bunch of drunken men dancing around, so why would they stay? I felt differently.

If dancing with a bunch of drunken old men to celebrate the birth of a newborn boy didn't sound fun to my wife and son, it sure sounded like a lot of fun to me! I had a blast. Sure, they were drinking a lot of alcohol--but I wasn't--and ever since I quit drinking in 2007, I have had no problem resisting the offers of alcohol whenever I go out. Partly it's because I see the way people act when under the influence and it just reminds me of all the reasons I quit. The new father, also named "Nick" (that's my name too, for those who are keeping track), asked me my name on three separate occasions and still couldn't remember what to call me! One man peed himself... while we were dancing. I watched him do it. He had a huge smile across his face and everyone was laughing, doing fun Punjabi dances with our hands in the air. I don't even think he knew what happened.

It was fun, what more can I say? These total strangers invited me in and treated me like a relative. We hugged and laughed and danced. Based on my prior experience of Punjabi dances going back to the University of Washington days, I pretty much knew what I was doing and I got a lot of compliments for it. I ate a lot of food and they were some of my favorite dishes, like Palak Paneer and Butter Chicken. I met one of Nick's cousins and correctly guessed his Manchester accent (well, I guessed he was from the UK anyway), we talked about the legends of the Curry Mile. It was a nice little bit of cultural immersion and an impromptu adventure before the real adventure began.

Gastown

After the party with the neighbors, I came inside, washed up, and dressed to go out. Chelly and I put the boys in the hands of their grandmother and headed off to Gastown. This is an interesting neighborhood of crooked little streets and old brick buildings that's seen better days, for sure. Sadly, the COVID pandemic lockdowns seem to have left a negative impact on the place. Many of the old buildings are on their way out, to be replaced by new high-rises. But, there's still a lot of character here, and a lot of fun to be had.

Our first stop was the Cannabis Culture Lounge. This local landmark is the brainchild of Marc Emery, a longtime Cannabis activist in Canada. We've been coming here for probably 15 years and we've had a lot of good times, like the New Year's Eve a decade-or-so ago that we spent chatting with Marc and burning a big fat blunt. Sadly, this place is not nearly as fun as it used to be. Maybe it's a result of Cannabis legalization taking the shine off of these old, illegal speakeasies. Maybe it's the post-COVID economic stagflation. When we walked in, the staff member at the desk was loudly threatening to kick another couple out. Not a fun vibe. We walked around, but the place felt grimy and dull and we didn't want to stay.

So we went back downstairs for the New Amsterdam Cafe. This was quite the contrast. I remember this place being the grimy and dull one, but now it's gotten a lot nicer. The staff told us there were new owners, and they have an actual cafe with food and drinks, as well as a club in the basement. I did buy some edibles... But, they were done serving food and drinks by the time we got there, and we were not trying to rent a bong, so we bounced.

From there it was around the corner to the Cambie Hostel. This is a classic backpacker spot and college hangout--another place we've been visiting for years--around 100 years old, with all the cool brickwork and wooden beams. It was packed, as usual for a Saturday night. While we stood in line the DJ played some afrobeats and we were hooked. But, we actually jumped out of line when we heard what he played after that... Then, a couple songs later we reconsidered and got in the line again. The music was hit and miss like that for a while, some songs we could dance to and some we had to laugh at and walk over to the bar. But, steadily, the selections went downhill. There was more disco (yeah, 70s disco! who's listening to that? not me), more new "pop" music that I've never heard (and can't believe is really all that popular). Then he played the YMCA song and we headed straight toward the door. In 2023, that's just beyond corny.

We wanted a better DJ. I asked some guys in the line if they knew where we could find an African club or Afrobeats night. They told us about a spot on Granville called Cabana that was usually a Latin club, but was supposedly having an Afrobeats party on Saturday nights.

Granville

Granville is a street that's basically designed to be a party neighborhood. It's one of those long drags, lined with clubs and bars, restaurants, and hotels, where some stretches are just complete walking streets that are restricted from cars entirely. We've had a lot of late nights in this neighborhood and we know which places have the good Donairs and which ones are trash.

We found Cabana pretty easily, and actually got good parking without too much hassle, which is a real blessing in this neighborhood. There were entertaining things that happened--I don't remember them--but you can imagine, I'm sure, the kind of nightlife shenanigans of girls tripping over their stilettos as they rush to keep up with their friends, boys slurring loudly as they tell their friends something about the girls, people acting out of character, out of sorts, or just plain out of it.

When we got to the door of Cabana, we heard music coming out of the club, but it was neither the Afrobeats we were expecting or the Latin music the club is known for. We asked the security crew what was up with that? They said the Afrobeats night is actually a different night (Friday? Sunday? Who remembers?) and this night it was a hip-hop thing. What kind of hip-hop, you ask? Not the kind that we could get into. So, we stepped away. That's one thing with being in your 40s, what passes for "hip-hop" today is not the same party-rocking music we remember.

So what now? Well, lucky for us, two doors down was Latinos Unidos, a Columbian joint, and they had a live Salsa band! We went in there, had a few drinks (waters for me), danced the Salsa music, and had a good time. They actually played a couple Reggae songs, which was fun and unexpected. We stayed there until close and then went home quite late, laughing, talking, and telling stories until about 3am.

That, in my opinion, is the right way to enjoy Vancouver.

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