Jul. 05, 2011 - Issue #820: Bestest of Edmonton

Bestest of Edmonton

Simply the bestest!

For years now Vue's been giving you our picks for the bestest of Edmonton—the things we feel make this place feel like home, for better or worse, and which give it character. But this year we decided to give that format a slightly different slant: we asked some of the best and brightest people we know, those whose engagement in the City of Champions spans everything from municipal politics to street art, about the places in Edmonton that make it more than just a place they live. The answers they gave are as diverse as the city's urban sprawl, from the concrete to the metaphorical, tucked-away businesses to historic landmarks, the nostalgic to the brand new. 
This is hardly a complete list of Edmonton's bestest, either in people or places, but it should make for a nice little cross-section of what makes this place where we all live feel a little more like a home. Welcome to Vue's Bestest 2011.

 

Don Iveson
(city councillor, Ward 10)

VW: You'd mentioned the [Saskatchewan Drive] dog park and the trails off that as the place that makes Edmonton feel like home to you.
DI: I wouldn't want to describe it as the dog park, because that's not how I see it. It's the very top of the river valley in Belgravia, looking west out over the river and out over the city. I live nearby now, but one of the reasons why my family chose it is that I grew up not too, too far away from there—two neighbourhoods over—but when I was a kid we were running around those trails that lead to Hawrelak park and lead west into the equine centre, and back over to Whitemud creek. We were carrying around in there on our bikes, and playing flags back in the '80s when we were kids. So I've always really been attached to that natural space there.
But it's kind of the boundary: the thing that I find really compelling about it is that it's an edge. It's a boundary, between the city, the neighbourhood and the built environment we spend most of our time in, and a natural space, where you can be in nature either by the river or in a forest. That's very calming.

VW: Almost the best of both worlds. DI: Exactly, and you can move back and forth between them, and you can be alone there, if that's what you want. But if you stick around for more than 10 minutes, you're going to run into a neighbour as well, usually with dog, and we know each other by our dogs' names in a lot of cases [laugh]. So it can be both a reflective place and a very social place—it's kind of the intersection of urban and natural, and social and seclusion. And there's something about that boundary between all those places occurring in one location. I treasure it, I guess.

 

Darrin Hagen
(author, drag artiste)
DH: Oh my God, the Bistro Praha. It's gotta be the Bistro Praha. And I'm so glad they're open again. There's a lot of reasons—I've been going there for 20 years; it was where Kevin and I had our first date—before we were official, he took me to the Bistro Praha. And I remember them bringing the tomato-and-onion salad, and I kind of went, "Is this it?" and he went, "Wait till you see how much food is coming," because he of course had ordered the courdon bleu.

VW: It's just reopened?
DH: Yeah. We were in Mexico with friends of ours, and we were talking about restaurants in Edmonton, and I mentioned the Bistro Praha, and they had never been there. And I was like, "Oh my God, it's my favourite restaurant in the world, we have to go,"
and we came home, and the week later was the fire in that building and it was closed down for two years. So I was just crushed, because for 20 years it's been the place where like closing night of the Fringe after we've packed up all our gear, we go have dinner at the Bistro, and anyone's birthday, we have dinner at the Bistro, my mom's in town, I take her to the Bistro—she loves the cabbage soup. It's just one of my favourite places to take people. Everyone feels welcome and friendly and the food is never less than amazing.

VW: So not only is there quality of food, but there's atmosphere around it.
DH: I love the fact that it's upper crust without being elitist or stuffy. I was really happy. Have you been to the new one? Well, there's a good story about it actually. Because one of the things that was remarkable about the old bistro was that big old mural they had on the back wall, of the Austrian hillside. And there was even a little spot of grease up in the sky where someone had tossed their fried cheese. Who knows? Could've been a greasy forehead and some brill cream—hard to say. But when they were opening up the new restaurant, some people who had been long-term clients of the old bistro said, 'Y'know, we've been looking in our basement and we used to have one of those old murals.' And they looked and it was still in the wrapper. So they've got a new version of the mural of the European countryside on the back wall again. And they've got the same lamps, the same furniture—they've been recovered—the same art on the walls and exactly the same menu. They actually had a chance—this is all gossip—they had a chance to open up on 4th Street behind the Sobey's and that new bunch of buildings there. And they would've had to raise the prices on the menu, so they waited another year, so that they could find a place that could keep the restaurant menu exactly the same. So in this day and age, that just is impressive, and I got to back within three or four days of opening. ... I don't think I've ever experienced a restaurant where I've had such a close relationship with the staff and the food and the experience.

 

Brian Webb
(dancer, choreographer)

BW: The space, and it's my favourite space, is the empty John L Haar Theatre at the MacEwan Centre for the Arts. And the reason that's my favourite space is that it's the space of potential for me. That's where almost all of my dances since I moved to Edmonton in 1979 have been premiered. It's like home for me.

VW: Was there a time when you realized it was this special?
BW: Well, I've always thought it's a great space. I present a season now of national and international contemporary dance, and many companies feel it's one of the very nicest spaces for contemporary dance in the whole country. So, you start hearing this, and I've always liked the space, and you start to realize this is a very good facility.

VW: What's kept it so good?
BW: It's a house of 350 seats, so it's intimate, but it's got a good-sized stage, and all the sight lines in the theatre are perfect. So a very well-equipped theatre, so I think it's just amazing.

The Bandit
(public artist)
TB: For me, it's Whyte Avenue. I just think it's the heart and soul of this city. All my favourite shops are there, all my favourite people are there, my favourite restaurants. It's probably the one place in Edmonton I keep going back to and gravitate towards over and over and over again.

VW: When did you realize it was special to you?
TB: I think I've always kind of known. It probably started early in my teens; there were a bunch of different record stores that aren't there anymore that you could go to find stuff that you couldn't imagine finding anywhere else in the city. My love for Whyte avenue just stemmed from there.

VW: Given that Whyte Ave has started to go in a different direction—not as many used record stores, and that sort of thing—is it still special to you?
TB: Yeah, it is. I think especially what I'm doing now with my art, you kind of find new places and new spots. In the last little while, I've started walking down the back alleys of Whyte, and it's just interesting how many beautiful things you'd find: spots, and fire escapes, and balconies. It's almost beauty where you wouldn't expect to find it. I didn't realize until recently half the stores on Whyte Avenue are just old houses. You walk down this back alley, and they're all houses. It's really neat. You'd never tell from looking at the storefronts, but it's all these rows and rows of houses which I think is really cool. I don't know if people ever take the time really to walk down those back alleys and discover all the little surprises and art and stickers and people and stuff that you can find back there.

Gabe Wong
(graphic designer)
GW: For me, the waste management plant really encapsulates Edmonton and the people who come into Edmonton, what we're all about, in a way. The thing about the Edmonton Waste Management Centre is it's one of the leaders in North America and in the world of waste management.
[It's] diverting 60 – 70 percent of our household waste from the landfill, and this is way above other cities in Canada, or even around the world. For instance, Vancouver, who always touts itself being like a really green city, is only at 52 percent, Toronto's at 40 percent. Calgary's only at 20 percent of their waste, And London—in England, not Ontario—is at 22 and New York City at 33. And the target for Canada is just 50 percent ...  but, we're going to be opening a new facility that turns all of the waste that we can't recycle or compost into a biofuel station which will divert 90 percent of our waste from the landfill. And that is insanely high; I think it's going to open next year or 2013.
I feel like Edmonton isn't really known for taking a lot of risks because not many people know about how awesome this facility is, and how much waste we actually divert, and how we're a leader. And I think it all has to do with Edmonton's inferiority complex. The people who come into Edmonton often aren't from Edmonton; they're from small towns, rural areas, immigrants or from the north. These people are general risk-takers, that's the reason why they're coming here, and a lot of them are leaders, too, because a lot of them are the first ones to come to the city to go to university, all that kind of business. So we always have huge amounts of talent coming into Edmonton, and we don't really have a way of keeping them. And I think it's because the same people who make everything great are the same people who refuse to talk about how great we are. They're always risk-takers, they like to look forward, all the time, and they don't really pat themselves on the back for a job well done, or not for long, anyway.

There's always a new, next thing, and Edmonton sort of falls into that trap where we don't like to talk about ourselves all that much. We're not like Vancouver, which is like, 'Oh, we're so great, we're so green.' It becomes over the top after a while. And I appreciate that about Edmonton, how we're pretty humble, but it's kind of a double-edged sword, so we have this really great stuff going on, but no one outside of Edmonton knows of it, and no one inside of Edmonton knows of it. So what's going to attract people to stay, or people to come in? So it kind of puts us in an awkward situation—I think that's exactly the strength and the problem of Edmonton, and how the waste management facility is a metaphor of that.

And just to finish it off, it's kind of a marketing problem. We just need to tell people sometime, at some point, and celebrate what makes us really good to ourselves and to other people, so that encourages people to stay, to have pride in the city.

 

Michael Kennard
(clown [Mump, of Mump & Smoot], instructor at the University of Alberta)

MK: I was thinking one of my favourite places was down in the Millcreek Ravine, where I take my dog for a walk. It reminds me a bit of Northern Ontario. I was born and raised in Toronto, and didn't move here until about four years ago.
VW: When did you discover it?
MK: In the first year I bought a house in Ritchie, and one of the reasons I bought the house was 'cause it was close to the ravine, for taking my dog for a walk.

VW: It just feels like home?
MK: Yeah, 'cause there's water. I have a cabin in Ontario, and it's on a river. And just that sort of attachment to being in the wilderness.

 

Mitch Holtby
(musician)
MH: Personally, the place I do spend the most time is in my studio. I know that's not as interesting as some other places. ... It's the place to hide during the winter months, and to come out of your shell during the summer months. For most of the year, for me, it's just where I can feel more creative. I do like having it in my house, because most of the times I use it, it's after two in the morning.

VW: Is there something about the late-night hours that strikes that inspiration?
MH: Yeah, I've definitely noticed it for myself, and everyone I've talked to would feel the same way. It just puts me in a certain mindset, being up at like 3 or 4 am, I guess. It seems to be the creative mindset. I think a lot of people experience that sort of thing.

VW: Anything else about it that makes Edmonton feel like home?
MH: I would just say mostly the winter thing. Everyone has to find their own spot to hibernate and hang out during the cold winter nights. Mostly for me, it's like winter at 3 am. There's nowhere else I'd feel more at home than at home, I guess.

 

Alice Major
(poet)
AM: There's so many parts of the city that mean a lot to me, but one of the parts I actually really like is that drive, you know when you come up Calgary Trail, you're coming into the city, there's that sort of crochet-hook bend of Victoria, and it goes down the hill, and you can see the High Level Bridge, and you can see the panorama. I love that spot because I feel like I'm coming home. And that, on a summer evening, is to me just the most beautiful sight.

VW: Can you think of a time when you realized that was such a special view?
AM: There was one time I remember coming back; you know, I never expected I would stay in Edmonton. I was leavin', this was just a pass-through place. And somehow or another, you can drive back and forth across the North Saskatchewan and never really notice it. For many years, it was hard to access the river, it's not like it's there on your doorstep a lot. And so I would just drive back and forth, and I knew there was a river running through my city, and I just didn't quite register emotionally with it. And then this time, I was coming back from Toronto, where my family still lived—it was late summer, the leaves were maybe starting to go a bit of that sort of golden-green that they get at the end of the summer—and it was the first time I thought, 'This is home.' And I couldn't put a year on that, I just remember very distinctly that view. All of a sudden, I had left what I thought was always home in Toronto, and all of a sudden, this was home.

 

David Berry
(expat, former Vue staff writer, current copy editor at the National Post)

DB: I often, especially now that summer has finally rolled around, find myself thinking about the High Level Bridge an awful lot. Just all the times that I crossed it one way or the other, whether that was like 25 degrees outside and the sun was coming down, and just biking across it on my way from one thing to another, or at night, usually coming back from one very specific thing. But I find that really reminds me of home, I guess because, without insulting the rest of Edmonton, most of my Edmonton experience was in the one interesting part of town, which is like downtown and Whyte Ave, joined up by the bridge. I spent a lot of time even thinking about how I was going to cross that, or crossing that.

VW: When did you realize that it was this special thing for you?
DB: I think it was when I found out you could rent the street car to have like a party on top of the High Level Bridge. I heard you could do that once, you could get it for a couple hours, and I thought that would've been awesome, 'cause I always really liked taking that little thing. It was like the LRT route we should've had that never materialized. So I think then I realized, the fact that that appealed to me so much, it made me realize I liked it. And then being here, and thinking back to that, really gets to me. It's just one of those things that I really miss now that I can't be on it at all.

VW: Had it changed in your mind at all since you left Edmonton?
DB: I think it's taken on this mythic, romantic-like layer, I guess. I don't ever have to think about choking on exhaust as I walk up the hill or anything like that. Now it's perfectly preserved in so much sentimental amber. That's probably changed, but yeah.

VW: Any more places come to mind?
DB: In slightly more practical terms, I really miss the Garneau Pub. Basically since I officially moved into the city until when I left, I was always fairly close to going there, and it smells like home. I can still smell the stale beer and sadness that made it so appealing. And also, the Dutchess Bake Shop, because there really isn't a bake shop as good as that anywhere else that I've found. Seriously. Totally delicious. More delicious than anything else I've come across.

VW: Even in Toronto?
DB: Yeah. They don't know how to bake here. That's the conclusion I've come to.
 

Melissa Thingelstad
(theatre performer, co-artistic director of indie5)

MT: One is Mandolin books, the place that I kind of came across last year when I was working on a project, and I've found I don't go there often enough for them to know my name, but often enough that it feels familiar. It's where I go when I'm obsessing about a project in a creative way, and I sit there, and inevitably every time I've been there I've gotten into a little bit of a neurotic state in my head, gotten up, wandered around with the books and found a book that had to do with whatever I was working on. So I kind of feel that there's a little bit of synchronicity, you could say, in the place. It's the home for my creative spirit, I guess.
And the other place, coming from a place of pure honesty ... there are lots of places that are Edmonton to me, where I look forward to coming back, go to this restaurant or that. But what feels like home for me is the Fine Arts Building at the University of Alberta. Because that's what brought me here, that's where I became more of an adult, where I got my two best friends, where I found my boyfriend and fell in love, so there's ties of my own personal life in that place too.
And it's more just about neat little areas. There's this great place behind the city market building, behind the parking lot, and what I love about Edmonton is that it has its random back alleys and backs of buildings that are living stories that are aching to be told.

VW: When it comes to the bookstore, when did you realize it was special to you?
MT: I was there when I think ... I'd finished working on Hedda Gabler last year, and I was milling around with certain ideas about other projects to start working on. We had been, I think, at either Culina's out there or another place, and just decided to walk in and check it out and sit down and do some work. And I was kind of obsessing about the bad girls of theatre a little bit, and I started thinking about what has been the notion of a bad girl over time in fiction, and non-fiction and started to wander the store and came across Anna Karenina, and I was like, 'Well there's a bad girl.' And that's actually been fueling an ongoing process with a dear friend of mine that I collaborate with, which we're still working on and contemplating—it's been a year-and-a-half love affair with searching for this information. And that's really where I think it got started. It also feels like it's home to other people, which I like. It's got that community feel, and then over time it's just been spark after spark, and every time I want to be creative, that's where I think of going.

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