No man is an island.

Zoée has an eye for colour and design.

Their entire place is impeccably decorated. There are so many things to look at, but everything has its place. Even creepy Santa.

Zoée is officially my “second opinion”. I know what I like, but I often am unsure whether it’ll work with my pre-existing decor. The theme I currently have going in my living room is dark wood and bright colours, lots of wall art (modern and illustrative), and a sensible number of plants. I’ve completed a Lego version of Starry Night, which has yet to be mounted on the wall. I have ONE scented candle.

I am slightly embarrassed to admit that I spent about 30 minutes of my Vancouver visit sniffing candles. I have smelt some outrageously expensive candles, which I will not be purchasing. They all smell like burning money.

I need to find an AliExpress version of this robe.

Before settling indoors for the Fall and Winter, I put myself through some discomfort. On Sunday, I did the Seymour climb on my bike, then several hill repeats around Burnaby mountain the next day. Cycling season is coming to a close for me, and I felt so well-trained that I was excited about improving upon last month’s Seymour attempt. When I did it last month, I put in a respectable effort but didn’t go all-in, as it was super-hot, and I was unfamiliar with the climb. August 14’s time was 56:06, whereas Sunday’s time was 50 minutes flat. This time, I was not alone.

I’ve made several new riding buddies this summer. The last person (probably) to get on my list of riding buddies this year is Ryan, who competed in the 2005 Deaflympics for cycling. Until now, the only other deaf person I knew whose passion for cycling matched mine was Ed, who has the audacity to live halfway around the world.

Anyway, Ryan’s just across the Georgia Strait. He’s not even someone new: we knew each other as kids. We attended the same elementary and high school. His mom was even my interpreter for one year in elementary school. Although our social circles overlapped, we weren’t friends.

The friends of my teen years and I no longer have much in common. It’s fun catching up with them, but a friendship cannot thrive on nostalgia alone. This fact has bummed me out for years. I’ve lucked out with Zoée and Ed, both of whom I met as an adult, but it often feels like I’d exhausted my options, as if I’d never get back the sense of community I had as a teenager. Instead of mourning these fizzled friendships, it would be better to remember I’m not the only one who has picked up a few new hobbies since then. I think it’s time to reintroduce myself to the Vancouver deaf community.

The other ride I did was with my uncle, who is not deaf; however, he is another person I’d let redecorate my place. He does silkscreens of vintage images on wood. A creepy Santa would not look out of place at his home.

I was to meet him at his downtown studio then ride around Stanley Park. The plans changed when Uncle realized he left his cycling clothes at home. Instead, he took me and my bike to his Burnaby Mountain neighbourhood (which is actually a pun: UniverCity.) “We’ll be doing some climbing,” he said.

No problem, I excel at those!

There were many climbs, and many fast descents. Even when in a tuck, I could not catch up to Uncle. He was going so fast that trying to keep up with him put me on the women’s leaderboards on Strava. Keeping up with him on the climbs was easier but not necessarily easy. He’s 63. He gives me hope that I’ll still be a strong cyclist for another 20 years.

Yet, I often question whether I got the best of my family’s genes. A visit with my oldest relative was also on the schedule. After our ride, Uncle dropped me off at his dad–my opa’s place. I learned then that my oma was severely asthmatic, to the extent she struggled to walk uphill. Is this what’s actually in store for me in 20 years?

Opa got one of those “I’ve fallen and can’t get up!” electronic adornments. He hates it. He’s only had false alarms where he accidentally presses the button while leaning over the dining table, resulting in a separate alarm unit going off. Before anyone rushes to his aid, though, he receives a call in which he assures the person he’s still vertical.

The visit lasted just an hour. Most of us understand that old people tire easily. Still, when one witnesses it, it’s jarring. I do not look forward to experiencing that level of fatigue. In spite of that, he’s healthy. And unlike me, he is not lactose intolerant. Uncle surprised Opa with a Dairy Queen milkshake when Uncle came to pick me up. “Is nobody else in this family lactose intolerant?” I asked Uncle.

“I don’t think so.”

Lucky me.

I’m lucky in other ways. I didn’t lose to Marianne in Scrabble this time. Of course it was because we didn’t even play. Marianne was kind enough to let me spend two nights on her deceptively comfortable couch. I am also slightly embarrassed to admit that I accidentally gave her the taxi driver treatment after she picked me up from Zoée’s. After dropping off a friend, Marianne spent the next 10 minutes driving around with an empty passenger seat. I didn’t bother getting in front as we were only a block from her place, yet it felt so wrong.

The Vancouver in me is fading away, as is the Vancouver I once knew. Many of the once familiar storefronts of Burrard Street have shuttered. I had some trouble remembering the north to south streets in the grid, resulting in giving Ryan bad directions when he dropped me off at Marianne’s. Likewise, I was late to my hair appointment because I couldn’t figure out how the bike lanes linked up.

I’m an island girl now.