A Demographic Nightmare

When I first moved to Ottawa I was told that there aren't really good and bad parts of Ottawa, because you can't walk more than two blocks in any direction without crossing the poverty line at least once. At my old place if I wanted to go grab a Coke at the Korean Grocery it meant walking through the white-trash, low-rent ghetto (evidinced by wifebeaters, ghetto booty, and children playing unsupervised at all hours) and into Chinatown, but I'd only cross one street.

The new place shows this situation even more dramatically. From my door, If I walk three blocks west I will be on the doorstep of the American embassy, and will have experienced the nicest pedestrian mall in Ottawa. If I walk two blocks east I will be stabbed by a drunk homeless man who speaks an English/French dialect that is unique to Gatineau called Franglish. If I walk to the north I'll find myself in an area of quaint family homes and shoveled front walks. If I walk two blocks south I will find myself at Rideau Street which is populated by drug dealers, drug users, and about a thousand cases of teenage pregnancy waiting to happen.

If I was a police officer in this city, I would go to the Rideau Street McDonalds and arrest everyone that walked in the door. Go there sometime. You'll see what I mean. I'd feel safer in Iraq.

The street that I live on is even divided. On my side of the street there is a soft-rock radio station, vintage clothing stores, and a horse stable. On the other side of the street are three bars and a strip joint. There are police cars parked out front all hours of the day. Guess which side of the street they're watching.

If you are at the Governor General's residence and take a couple wrong turns you will wind up in Vanier. Remember the homeless Franglish-speaking man who will stab me if I go two blocks East? He had to leave Vanier because he didn't feel safe there and couldn't understand what anyone was saying.