Beautiful British Columbia Traveller

Summer 2000, by Diane Bailey & Drew McKibben

What They Said About Commercial Drive

The scene at Norman's Fruit and Salad shop is typically chaotic. Long line-ups snake through the store's narrow, jumbled aisles. Outside, under the bright green awning, shoppers squeeze between tables laden with a kaleidoscope of fresh fruit, vegetables, and herbs. Around the corner, by the loading bay, a cluster of customers gathers among the crates of melons, tomatoes, and lettuce that clutter the boulevard, hoping to catch the attention of one of the stock boys. They're in perpetual motion, tirelessly hauling boxes of produce to replenish the ever-dwindling stands out front. Even owner Norman Ng barely pauses as we talk. "Commercial Drive," he observes, "is the only place to be."

The Drive, as locals call it, is the hub of the city's working-class east side. A dozen blocks east of Chinatown, Commercial intersects East Hastings and runs south to Broadway. At first glance it looks like little more than the slightly rough-around-the-edges blue-collar neighbourhood it is. Down at street level, however, The Drive reveals itself as one of the hippest strips in town. Here, multicultural meets countercultural. urban bohemians, radical youth, social revolutionaries, gays, and lesbians line, work, and hang out alongside the Italian, Portuguese, Hispanic, Caribbean, and Asian immigrants who have arrived in waves to add to the neighbourhood's ethnic mosaic. On Saturdays, especially, the masses make the pilgrimage to prowl Commercial's funky fashion underground, root around its vintage stores, sip espresso in its old-world coffee bars, and enjoy its varied eateries. They have discoveredwhat the denizens of The Drive have always known – this street has a heartbeat.

As we walk south from Norman's, little more than a block away, the pungent, almost sweet aroma of smoked meat at J, N & Z Deli draws us from the sidewalk into a scene right out of the European countryside. Long chains of smoked sausage links, slabs of bacon, and succulent hams hang from the ceiling and storefront window. Fat, fresh kielbasas and wursts lie heaped in the glass-fronted cooler.

Through the door leading to the meat smokers and butcher table in back, we glimpse pink sides of pork hanging by the hooves. Ivanka Jeremic pulls down four links of spicy beef surguk, our favourite, and bundles them in brown butcher paper. We've heard that J, N & Z's Berliner hams and smoked pork chops are renowned, but Ivanka won't play favourites.

"Everything we do is special. Dry smoked, old fashioned. Like they do in Europe," Ivanka and her husband, Savo, brought their sausage secrets with them from Yugoslavia a quarter-century ago. They opened their first deli in one of the city's more upscale neighbourhoods, but found their true home on Commercial Drive a dozen years ago. "We used to have a beautiful store in West Vancouver, but everyone there in on a diet," remonstrates Ivanka. "Here there are working people who have to eat."

Ivanka may have touched on the one thing that sets Commercial Drive apart from Vancouver's other popular shopping spots. At its core is a real community. A recently published walking tour of The Drive, produced by the area's Our Own Backyard project, calls it a "thriving urban village." Small, locally owned businesses and turn-of-the-century brick buildings, constructed when the neighbourhood was, quite literally, being carved out of the bush, lend a personality that contrasts with the faceless retail chain stores that proliferate elsewhere.

Back in the 1870s and "80s, this area was part of a timber stand feeding the Hastings Mill on Burrard Inlet. Commercial Drive, although it didn't rate a name at the time, was a skid road with paths running off into the trees. It was the arrival of the inter-urban railway connecting Vancouver and New Westminster, completed in 1891, that began to transform the area from a wilderness into a settlement of mainly British tradesmen and shopkeepers. The face of the community changed after the First World War with an influx of Italian, Chinese, and East European immigrants. But it wasn't until after the Second World War, when a huge wave of Italian newcomers arrived, that the commercial Drive of today began to take shape.

When Peter Olivieri opened his ravioli store at Commercial Drive and Third Avenue in 1957, Italian businesses were few. There was an Italian shoe-repair shop a few doors south and, at the street's northern end, Nick's Spaghetti House. By the late 1960s, however, Little Italy was beginning to imprint itself on Vancouver's consciousness. And by 1982, reports Kevin Griffin in his Vancouver's Many Faces guidebook, more than 70 Italian restaurants, delis, pastry shops and coffee bars lined the street.

When Bruna Olivieri was hired by her future husband in 1973, she says, "if you didn't speak Italian, it was tough to work here." Today, that's no longer true. As the Italians drifted to the suburbs in the late 1970s and "80s and new arrivals settled in their place, the atmosphere of The Drive became more multicultural. Little Italy has become Little Everything.

Not to say the Italian influence has disappeared. Far from it. Olivieri's, now called The First Ravioli Store, is still one of Vancouver's most popular Italian supermarkets. On weekends, shoppers crowd its aisles, browsing the shelves of imported pasta, marinated vegetables, and Italian tomatoes.

Behind the wall-to-wall glass deli case, where steel shelves bow under the weight of bottled olive oil, Bruna and staff scoop fresh stuffed pasta and olives fro the bins, slice up prosciutto and provolone, carve wedges of Parmesan off massive wheels, and slip easily into Italian to chat with customers who have been coming in for more than 40 years.

Nick's still there, too, unpretentiously serving up huge platters of steaming spaghetti, meatballs, and spare ribs. At Abruzzo's cappuccino sports bar, it's standing room only when the Italian first-division soccer games are aired live via satellite. But today, the handful of fovourite Italian restaurants offering traditional fare on The Drive are just one ingredient in an eclectic stew that includes an almost dizzying array of cuisine: vegetarian, Cuban, Chilean, Spanish, Greek, Chinese, Jamaican, Hungarian, Middle Eastern, Japanese, Mexican, and Vietnamese.

Leaving The First Ravioli Store with our bundle of eggplant-and-sundried-tomato ravioli, we decide it's time to take a break. Finding a good cup of coffee is not a problem on The Drive – selecting which of its dozen or so cappuccino bars to visit is. Today, we decide on the legendary Joe's Cafe and head north. In the early 1980s, when artists, musicians, and the local left began to filter onto The Drive, Joe's, with its battleship linoleum, chipped Formica tables, laundromat lighting, and black-velvet bullfighting scenes, became the hot place to hang out and argue politics into the wee hours. Vancouver postcards featured an artist's rendering of the cafe's crowded sidewalk tables, and a one-man musical titled On Life and Death at Joe's Cafe was a minor hit in the city.

The crowd has changed somewhat from those heady days, but the place remains much the same. The billiard tables are less busy since Vancouver banned smoking in public places, and increased competition, including the arrival of two of the city's ubiquitous Starbucks outlets, has cut into business. But, says Tony Fernandes as he brews two cups of fragrant, frothy liquid, "We still do the best cappuccinos and lattes." The secret is in the foam, he confides, as we sip the strong, exquisitely smooth elixir.

Fortified with caffeine, but still hungry, we move on. Commercial Drive seems a street made for walking, and in that spirit we decide to graze on the go. First, a 99-cent slice of pizza, topped with spinach and feta. Throughout the day, in homage to the neighbourhood's polyglots personality, we snack on spicy samosas at the all-natural Sweet Cherubim, and savoury vegetable-and-cheddar panini brioche at Pasticerria Carmelo's. For those who prefer a seat on the street. The Drive's many outdoor patios offer a delicious alternative to strolling.

As we wander, we discover more of the diversity that is The Drive. There's the jumble of 1950s nostalgia that spills onto the sidewalk from Attic Treasures, and the richly coloured fabrics and assorted paraphernalia at the local Rasta shop. Clothing stores here eschew trendy Tommy Hilfiger for unique local, African, Asian, and hip-hop designs. A bookstore window display, featuring not Stephen King but Sartre for Beginners, speaks to the street's cerebral side.

In the tiny Magpie Magazine Gallery, it would be easy to lose an afternoon dipping into the 2,000 titles jammed inside, everything from Just Jazz Guitar to Covert Action Quarterly. Strolling past Womyn's Ware – established by two self-described lesbian witches and specializing in erotic accessories for women – we satisfy our curiosity with a quick peek through the window.

Moving from store to store, we are serenaded, in turn, by the drums and cymbals of Hare Krishnas, the raspy baritone of a lone busker, and the laid-back beat of canned reggae music. Across the brick wall outside Carmelo's, someone has spontaneously scrawled "We Love The Drive" with chalk. It's not hard to imagine why.

As the day winds down, Drew decides to squeeze in a haircut at Continental Barbers, slipping into one of the shop's well-worn vinyl chairs. Owner Gino Albergo talks as he cuts, his hands moving with the swiftness and sureness of more than 30 year's experience. Over the years, the wide storefront windows here have provided Albergo with an ongoing panorama of life on The Drive.

"It's like a movie," says Albergo with a thick Italian accent. "Everything goes by my store. Everything. And it's getting more interesting all the time."

Amen to that