Out with the Old, In with the New...

Points North

By James Fife

Recently, there were renovations going on at either end of Belleville Street. One project was very much exposed to the public eye, while the other was not. One involved an outlay of massive sums of money; the other (mercifully) was far more modest in its economic- stimulus effect. The one provoked some very vocal debate about the general idea and the specifics of the plan. The other, because it was something my wife Marilyn meticulously researched and planned, was getting a far less mixed response among those who knew about it.

Yes, we were having our new home in Victoria worked over. And though it was not as extensive or controversial as the ongoing remodel at the Empress, it nonetheless provided ample opportunity to learn something new about ourselves and the way things are done in Canada.

It started with our experiences with the local contractor we hired to carry out the remodel. We once learned about something called "Hawaiian time." My brother, who lived there for years, experienced it; I think I had the same experience when I lived in Ireland. Most Americans maybe have felt it when going abroad. Things just seem to take markedly longer to get done than in the US. I don't think it's true that there is less dispatch in those other places; it's just that Americans are so impatient, time drags for them in a way that they mischaracterize as "Third World." But knowing a thing and living up to it are two different animals. So, when our initial completion date for the renovations passed, and no work had even started, we couldn't resist the bred-in-the-bone tendency to attribute it to something malign, either fraud at worst or "Canadian time" at best. But after our contractor freely gave up almost two whole work days to escort us around to materials suppliers located in every corner of Victoria (so that we could finalize the selection decisions, which was probably the real reason for the delayed start), we felt entirely different about things. What we had darkly built up as a do-nothing procrastinator now turned into someone who was calmly dealing with the complications of long-distance owners having trouble making up their minds. That and good old Canadian bureaucracy were seemingly behind the lack of progress.

As a result, I felt chastised. I realized I was letting my Americanism show, instead of going with the flow. "Be like a Canadian," I said, "and take it easier." But then the row that brewed up over the renovation at the other end of Belleville made me realize how un-laid-back Canadians can get. If there is one building in Victoria that can be called a "landmark," it's the Empress. And Canadians feel strongly about their heritage buildings, I've found. So, when the ivy was removed, and the weeping sequoias (what Marilyn liked to call Sasquatch arms) were uprooted, I could sense some ire rising. And then when the rose bushes were removed, not just for winter, but, reportedly, permanently, the seething reached a boiling point. But the final straw seems to have been the decision to close down the Bengal Lounge that drew the firestorm. Almost immediately after the announcement was made, an on-line petition started to oppose the closing. The comments posted by those signing voiced some strong feelings about betrayal of heritage, putting venal business calculations ahead of community sentiment, and the view that it was not even good business sense, given the Lounge's popularity. Lots of hard words I did not often hear from Canadians before on both sides. Then others fired back, and the whole thing got quite contentious: from political name-calling to accusations of ethnic insensitivity. Whew.

I can understand the feelings of those who disagree with Nat Bosa's more sweeping changes. Like many, Marilyn and I of course have an image of the Empress in our minds that was part of the whole-picture charm that made Victoria attractive to us 15 years ago. And the Bengal Lounge was part of that. Marilyn loved to sit in the comfy chairs near the musicians and stay all evening. Me, I could eat Indian food five times a week, so it was a must-visit spot every time we came. And the drinks were quite potent and exotic. Yes, I signed the petition, because the change meant a loss of something that was in the tapestry of all we loved about Victoria, and we never wanted that to change.

But when I got over the initial shock and thought about it more rationally, nothing, not even Victoria, can always stay the same. Nor should it. I don't want it to change, but it will. Because all of us, Marilyn, and I, and Nat Bosa too, want things the way we want them. No one is likely to ever speak out and regret the alterations we made to our home to make it the way we want it. I don't believe that Mr. Bosa's thinking was much different from ours. If his changes are more public, they are no less valid. After all, as I read in a re-printed Times article from the 1960s, here were also people regretting the change from the old Coronet Room to the (then new) Bengal Lounge. It's a circle.

Life, I realized, is a constant case of out with the old, in with the new. That is one thing that will not change, ever. The trick is to learn how to tolerate and adapt to the flow of events, not try to eliminate it. As much as I'd like Victoria to remain fixed, like a scene in a never changing snow-globe, it moves, and I have to move along with it to continue to enjoy all it has to offer, the old and the new.

Even as I typed these thoughts, an email of listings arrived from the real estate agent who helped us find our Victoria home a year ago. It reminded me that our decision to buy a home in James Bay was also a change, a radical change in course from what we thought were our plans for the future. That change too is one we have to adapt to and absorb. We will try to do that, even as the city of our life-change changes around us. It'll just take making the effort to discover a new source of chicken tikka masala. I can do that.