And everything I eat here, everything within a 10 block radius of the hostel, the Subway, the Donair, Pizza, Tacos, Pub-grub, it's all the fucking same, taste, texture, Soylent Green, and I find myself staring down the countless rats that run down the alleys, big ones, juicy, is this the reason everything here is so bland, food flavored like the weather, is this what they're serving? Who knows, it wouldn't be a surprise, really, at this the end of days.
I've come to the conclusion I hate Vancouver. I don't know why, the weather, buildings, slums or wealth, there's no single thing I can put my finger on, only that I hate it. I try to imagine improving it - maybe if I found a permanent place to live here, or a job I enjoyed more, but even if I were independently wealthy, a gentleman of leisure, nothing would improve it. Nothing would make it better. And I don't know why that is.
So get to work, make the best of a bad situation, set the target on the end of May, I need a jeep, a great metal detector, $10,000 Fisher or Minelab, a pocket full of cash and an off-road map to the Yukon, this city has been it's own adventure of sorts, only one I rather haven't enjoyed and I need to find some new adventures more to my taste...