The yellow machines on wheels look more like prehistoric creatures than modern day construction machines, and for about nine hours a day, starting bright and early at 7 a.m., they grunt, squeal and flatten out every shred of material in the caged area, preparing the foundation for yet another high-rise condominium building.
When I attended the Damien Rice concert at the Center for Performing Arts a few months ago, Rice commented on the monotonous architecture of Vancouver's downtown skyline. He called the buildings "grey, glass boxes" that make one want to kill oneself. While building landscapers have fancied it up by planting rooftop gardens and enclosed courtyards, it seems that every newly erected building in Vancouver's downtown core follows the same formula: Grey, glass, big.
My condo building sticks out like an oriental poppy in a field of daisies. Its red brick walls and emerald green siding are tell-tale signs of pre-2000 architecture, and there is no fancy techy remote-sensor that quickly lets you into the resident parking garage. Instead, I use a card-key that is placed on a metal sensor, and then slowly wait and watch as the rustic cage chugs its way up to let the car in.
Driving down the Cambie, Granville, or Burrard Bridges, however, is pretty enthralling, because you can actually tell where it is you live. And since there are no other red and green buildings in this area of town, you can include a physical description of your building when giving directions to visitors and not confuse them.
This new mono-culture of grey condos however, doesn't seem to be affecting the thirst for property. People are buying fast, and sometimes complexes will sell out before they're even built.



