A bunch of us went downtown to eat this supposedly very famous ramen. We were lucky going in before dinner time, so we just had to wait for 10 minutes, whereas those people who came in just after we came in must wait about twenty minutes just to be served menus. And of all places in this big city, we met B, his girlfriend and C at that small little tiny ramen restaurant. I guess it was that popular. Or this city is just a boring place.

As if the sea is calling me (not that I'm making it up), we parted ways after dinner. I was waiting for Husky as we planned to walkabout. I windowshopped. These days my nostrils are really good, given the city's minimal pollution. I smell water as I paced faster towards names of streets that are distinctly familiar. I discovered lines of cafes and local eateries, pubs and small shops, and Beard Papa!! Of all things!

And after seven blocks away from Robson, I found it: English Bay.

I tell you, I was so damn happy that I swear I'm going to move to West End. It was beautiful and quiet. As if the people take care of them. It's really different when you are forced to keep it clean, because homeless people will be ushered away. But there I saw homeless people staring blankly at the setting sun. It might just be the right place for me.

Of all things that have gone wrong and will possibly gone wrong, at least the Lord showed me one thing that is right. ...