City, City

I've lived in Kelowna now for just over a year. It's smaller than Vancouver, more laid-back, more relaxed, more low-key. Hardly anyone dresses up and it's not unusual to bump into someone I know at the grocery store or walking down the street.
I like it so much that I didn't realize how much I missed Vancouver, until Canada day last week.
Robin and I drove downtown (about 10 minutes away) to check out the Canada day festivities. There were people everywhere! Booths with things for sale, food, music, a group of break dancers, face-painting, but most of all: people, in large quantities. In the evening we went downtown again with Bob and Marlene and two of their grandsons and their niece, to watch the fireworks. I remember being in English Bay as a teenager and hanging off a lamppost, and as far as the eye could see, people- a churning, milling mass of humanity that was all caught up in the same excited frenzy.
This was reminiscent of other Canada days: although on a slightly smaller scale. I was beside myself with excitement. Kids were waving glowing light sabers around and I could smell mini donuts and hotdogs and teenagers were painted red and white and everyone was waiting for the show. I breathed deeply of the scent of all the people. It was a familiar mixture of bodies, cigarette smoke, food, dirt, just people.
There were two little boys having a sword fight with their glowsticks and there was a young couple that looked about sixteen pushing their baby in a huge stroller. There was a woman who was much too large to be wearing her tight red and white outfit. There were hippies with their hair in dreadlocks and henna tattoos snaking up their arms. There was an old man with a hat almost covering his face, playing guitar with the case open in front of him for some change. There were families of all types and sizes sitting on the grass and the sand and the sidewalks .
We bought light sabers (I couldn't resist!) and sat on the edge of the waterfront, our feet dangling over the water. Off the shore was the barge for the fireworks and the excitement was palpable. We waited for what seemed ages, looking at people. There was a bit of misty rain and the speaker above us kept cutting out, and a beaver and a huge fish and someone's lost shoe all drifted past us in the water. Finally the music started with a rousing rendition of Oh Canada, and the lights shot off the barge like colorful stars lighting up the sky. The crack of the explosions made my chest hum and I joined in the oohs and aahs of the crowds.
When it was all over we walked back through the pressing crowds, stepping over broken beer bottles, and trying to keep track of each other so we wouldn't get lost in the gathering . We got in our vehicles and joined the throng trying to get out of the downtown core. Same old stop, go, stop, go. (Except in Vancouver I would've taken the Skytrain, and packed in with all the other passengers, sweating and laughing and talking.)
I remember being at University, buried in the chemistry lab and the library, feeling disconnected from the world. I would get on a city bus once a week just so I could smell smoke and bodies and look at interesting people and feel connected to the web of life I was part of. Something in me would miss the people, the humanity of it, after spending so much time with books and beakers as my primary company.
There is nothing like a city. Perhaps if I'd been raised in a peaceful, tiny farming community with cows as my neighbors I would be overwhelmed and bothered by the masses of people. But I wasn't. And being part of the crowd and assaulting my senses with the smells and sights and sounds of a whole pile of people all excited about something- somehow it grounds me, and makes me feel content within myself.