Coincidences do not exist

Definition of coincidence according to WordReference: “a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent causal connection”.

I never believed in coincidences, as I try to give a rational explanation to everything, but apparently such a definition would fit perfectly what happened to me in the afternoon.

I was on my way home, after an interview for an internship in West Georgia Street, when I noticed a girl walking the opposite way looking vaguely familiar. She may have thought the same, as she gave me a look and a smile.

We turned around simultaneously and… surprise: it came out we knew each other.

She’s a French girl who was my colleague in Ireland, working in my same department.

I had no idea she was in Canada since we lost any contact maybe 4 years ago. To meet again in Vancouver it was as probable as to win the lottery.

She’s settled down here now, with permanent residence and a baby almost ready to be born.

She told me she came to Canada with her partner because it was her dream. Totally understandable, given that many people have a romantic vision of Canada as the land of the big open spaces, wild nature, bears and beavers, and so on. And this is a valid reason to attract people.

But then I started thinking on the number of Italians I met here so far, with less romantic, probably more practical and surely more important reasons to travel so far from home: the hope for a better future.

As economically Europe is literally going down, more and more people come to Vancouver with the not so secret hope to remain here with a stable job. An Italian I’m going to take the place of at work said it right: “We are refugees”. Yes, in some way we are refugees, victims not of an ethnic conflict like the ones you hear about on the news coming from distant lands, but rather victims of an economic war we didn’t want, we cannot fight, and we can only flee from.

As this war is going to have more and more losers, it might actually happen again to find some old new face on the streets of Vancouver. Maybe I am right: coincidences do not exist.

A matter of balance (another rock on the pile)

Having the privilege to live now very close to English Bay I took advantage of the August sunny weather to enjoy walks, fresh air and a magnificent view.

It’s been during my walks I first noticed something I had never heard of: bounces of stones in a sort of precarious balance.

At a closer sight the mystery was unveiled: nature has an artistic side, but in this case the patience of man was behind that little work of art.

You can actually spot people who, mindless of the warmth and the sun, with infinite patience put stones upon stones, one on top of one other, building a sort of tower, a pile at a time resistant and fragile, simple and beautiful.

They do it with no hurry, with care, having as “ingredients” only hands, patience, creativity and of course rocks. No glue at all is used. They just live a sign beside the sidewalk asking for a contribution.

Willing to know more I found out this art is called rock balancing and is practiced in several countries, therefore not being an exclusive of Vancouver.

It’s impressive how people can use even simple things to make something creative, but what I mostly like is to see people walking by just standing and admiring the performance, or maybe taking pictures.

A silent sign of approval, when I’m sure in Italy the idiot on call would try to make fall the pile down.

Someone could say they’re just bounces of stones, but I’d say you can find art in Vancouver as well, not in the shape of a medieval castle but in a tiny thing like a stone pile, a rocky hymn to perseverance.

Something where the balance is everything: balance for the stability of the structure, but also balance between the challenge to something as natural as the gravity and the respect for the beauty of the landscape doing something non-intrusive.

I feel a little bit like those stones: I know I can be strong, fighting for what I want to achieve, but the balance is always shivering and could get broken at any time, as anything here is still so temporary to me.

A part-time job I am about to start after a short period of unemployment is only another rock on the pile; I would really need some glue to make it if not artistic, at least stable.