St. George Marsh

Bored, awaiting a shopping spouse, I grabbed a copy of the new Vancouver Magazine, or at least the year end issue. Shocked, I noticed some familiarities within the glossy pages. There was Michelle from Antisocial! And Black Mountain! They also did a feature on Alex Henderson, who is the artist that did our shower curtain. Then there was St. George Marsh. Wow. I peeped this magical speakeasy last summer with Nick from Happy Accidents and was determined to do a huge post on them. Alas, the prospect seemed daunting, as Nick did a rad job on his site. Now I must avenge myself. I must.

There are places lost in the fog of youth that thaw from the glacier of nostalgia, bringing forth rich springs of patchwork visions stained red with aged wine. Gently faded linen sheets on your grandmothers rock hard dusty mattress or that spot in the woods where you made a fort with the neighbour that who moved away too early. A shiny quarter from a dull uncle and the ensuing bikeride to the corner store to buy a surprise pack. holy shit, remember those? Or Thrills? Or man...Pic A Pop? Yeah yeah my youth is branded but whatever, there was something magical everytime you walked into that store, having earned it with genuine toil and sweat. A bag of hickory sticks never tasted so good as after you mowed the lawn while your older brother scoffed on his way to work at Le Chateau, with his skinny black tie and over hairsprayed black hair.

You thought your grandpa's house was boring, but now you miss the strange eclectic mix of Austrian paraphernalia and Vancouver memorabilia. Sort of like a chalet on top of Grouse mountain; old Canucks collectibles and antique cross country skis and a freaky raccoon pelt. And all those stuffy books about art and birds. You'd give anything to go back there.

There used to be a marsh, who knows when, at the head of where Brewery Creek would've been, at St. George street and 29th. It was possibly a place where coast Salish peoples traded pelts for moonshine. And also maybe not. But its nice to think that St. George Marsh continues a long tradition of bartering for goods and services. Their General Store/Museum is a smart and cozy throwback to a time before capitalism had run amok. Back to when renting a movie was a big deal, when your parents would even buy pizza and you could stay up til 10.

Get strange things. Get birds nest soup. Get Collon Creams. Get pig's feet in a can. Get Arabic gum that tastes like bark. Rent a strange video. Or book. Touch the hot rock for a penny. Buy two tapes for 5 bucks. See the marsh. See a Lego chessboard. See wooden headphones. See it all.