Who Is Nanaimo? Do Tell? Okay.

This post is in response to my dear friend Moody (Moodlilicious as I refer to him - if that's even his real name) who asked me who is a Nanaim. Or maybe it was this Nanaimo. I forget. But whatever. It made me think about all of the people who read this lovely and compelling (if I do say so myself) blog who would have no idea as to what a Nanaimo was and why it's so tragic that I've come to actually like the stinking cesspool of a town. So here we go.

Nanaimo is the armpit of Vancouver Island (not to be confused with Vancouver the city which is on the mainland of Canada, a 2 hour ferry ride from Nanaimo). It's been the same population for as long as I can remember (which is actually since I was 12) 75,000. Roughly. Of those 75,000 people who are unfortunate enough to call Nanaimo home approximately 50,000 of them currently sport a fine mullet (hockey hair, business in the front party in the back, whatever you want to call it at least it gives you something to hold onto) or are currently having sex with someone who sports a fine mullet. Which is worse you ask? It's a toss up I'd say. Case by case. The remaining 25,000 people are composed of aging hippies who never quite made it out to one of the smaller islands before the property values sky-rocketed and are now sad and bitter and hang around downtown bars trying to pick up young women vastly out of their league, people who wear sandals with socks and dance like they're being electrocuted, bewildered asian exchange students (no doubt thinking to themselves "how the hell did I end up here?! it so didn't look like this in the brochures"), people who came from the smaller towns on the island and refer to Nanaimo as "the big city" (many of them also fit into the mullet sporting group), suburbanites who live in big, ugly houses in the north end with breathtaking views of their neighbours equally ugly houses and the Costco and Ricky's right down the road and "don't go downtown" because there are too many weirdos down there, and an assortment of various other decent human beings with reasonable fashion sense who ended up there for work or family or purely by accident. These people often suffer from depression. Oh, I forgot to mention the old people. There are a lot of old people on the island. Everywhere. They can't drive. And yet still they persist in pretending they can. It's a beautiful and natural part of aging that I look forward to immensely.

Nanaimo is a city of malls. And crappy malls at that. I think there may be 50 Tim Horton's along the highway (okay, maybe only 4 or 5 but it's not that long a stretch of highway), and a zillion fast food outlets. That number is accurate. There are also a fair number of movie theatres. Also conveniently located along the highway. Usually in malls. It offers an assortment of liquor stores and cold beer and wine outlets. Also in malls. Which is, as far as I"m concerned a damn good thing. But they all seem to close around 6pm which is not such a good thing really. Okay, 9pm. Whatever. There are also a large number if trucks. Everywhere. All the time. With stickers in the back window of Calvin (Calvin and Hobbes Calvin) pissing on the logo of whatever truck company didn't make their particular truck. There are also a lot of people who seem to consider sweat pants as a valid fashion choice. For work, for dinner, for pretty much everything. What's sexier than sweat pants? I certainly don't know.

So why do I like Nanaimo suddenly now after years and years of unabashed hatred? I have no idea. Maybe it's because I'm living in Duncan which is arguably a smaller more concentrated version of all that is evil in Nanaimo. Perhaps. Maybe it's just because I don't live there. I can go there and do the few fun things there are to do and then leave. Leaving Nanaimo is always a lovely thing to do. Leaving Las Vegas has got nothin' on leaving Nanaimo. Maybe it's because they have a drive thru Starbucks that makes it possible for me to have my chai latte without having to haul my hungover ass into the actual store thereby showing off my bloodshot eyes and greasy hair. That could be a big part of it. Or maybe it's just that I never go to Nanaimo anymore unless I have something (or someone - ha ha) fun to do. I don't go and hang out at the mall (ah, junior high) or smoke pot in the field behind the high school (ah, high school - actually that sounds kind of fun, maybe I'll do that next time) or shoplift candy from 7-11 (as if I would ever do that anyway) or any of the countless stupid things I did over the years that I lived in Nanaimo. I won't even go into the college years.

In any case Moody (and whoever else needed the info) that is Nanaimo. A simmering cesspool of bad fashion, big trucks, ugly malls, crappy restaurants and really boring, suburban people. And for some reason unknown to me, I actually kind of like it.
Damn the city of totems (Duncan)! Damn it to hell!