Dear Vancouver, I love you but we need to talk about the rain

Rainfall / Shutterstock

Dear Vancouver,

We’ve been together a long time now, and you know I love you. I love your people, your skyline, your food, your easily accessible outdoor pursuits.

But we’ve got to talk.

Now I know you’re called Rain City or Raincouver for a reason, and I’m not trying to change you, but your weather is starting to be a bit too much.

I mean, I’m seriously beginning to worry that I’ve forgotten what the sun looks like.

Image: @cayleyorman/Instagram

I have faint recollections of course. Hazy memories about a glowing yellow orb in the sky that made things warmer and brighter, made people happier, and generally made life more enjoyable.

I seem to remember a time when the arrival of this aforementioned orb would have us flocking outdoors, firing up barbecues, jostling for space on your patios, eating your ice cream without crying at the same time or enjoying some time your beautiful beaches.

But those days seem like a distant misty eyed memory. Better times when I could overlook your months of predictable precipitation because I knew that right around the corner there would be endless sun soaked stretches that we could enjoy together.

Yet here we are a month into spring and I can count on one hand the number of days where you’ve given me a much needed dose of vitamin D.

It’s like spring hasn’t even sprung.

Image: Michael Thornquist / Flickr

After all, there’s almost nothing to differentiate April from what has been one of the dreariest winters on record, a seemingly endless procession of grey skies and desperate dreary drizzly dampness.

It’s like every day is the same monotonous meteorological slog, and a far cry from the sun-soaked springs we’ve enjoyed together in the past.

Now I get it, you’re a temperate rainforest so I went into this relationship knowing that our time together would be punctuated by precipitation. And I can accept that. In fact I welcome it. One of the things that first attracted me to you is that you have four distinct seasons.

Except they’re not so distinct anymore. You’ve changed and I’m beginning to worry that it’s going to have an impact on our relationship.

I don’t look at you like I once did. I don’t get as excited when I come back to you after a few days away. And I find it harder and harder to defend you when my friends make snide comments about your climate. I’ve even caught myself glancing in the direction of sunnier cities when I used to only have eyes for you.

It’s not even like you’re the first rainy city I’ve been with. I mean I’m English – my entire culture has been built on bad weather. But there’s a reason why I broke up with Blighty, and I’m worried that I’m repeating the same pattern all over again.

So please, for the sake of our relationship, I’m begging you. Let’s take a break from the rain and remind ourselves why we fell in love with each other in the first place.

Yours as always,

Daniel

PS. can you remember to pick up some milk, I think we’ve run out.

Opinion: Dear Vancouver, I love you but we need to talk about the rain

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