In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts

I was in Vancouver for one night while travelling between Canada and the U.S. I was on a really long trip, used to spending about $100 a night and getting pretty decent sleep when I needed to book accommodation — staying with friends a lot of the time. This particular night I’d booked in advance, probably a few weeks ahead. What I hadn’t connected was the location. It was downtown Vancouver, on the east side of East Hastings Street, if I remember correctly.

I got the shock of my life. My friend dropped me off in the Gastown area and I walked a couple of blocks up to the hotel. People were dropping in the street like flies. Cars were just driving around prone bodies in the road. These people weren’t necessarily dead — they’d collapsed — and ambulances were swinging in to pick them up. Others were selling whatever they could on the sidewalk: a pair of jeans, a couple of cigarettes, used underwear. I was just like, “Holy Jesus” — a bunch of people walking around like zombies.

I go into my hotel, which was run by a musician who’d been a heroin addict, and he explained the history of the place. At night I could barely sleep. The hotel was not great — no aircon, so I had the windows open. It was a warm summer night, and all I could hear was the band playing downstairs and the sound of people screaming in the silence. I ended up downloading this book on Audible and listening to it. It had been recommended by a friend who’d connected with it in Squamish. And yeah — it painted a picture for me.