(photo: rutio/flickr Creative Commons)
Heather and I were walking back to our cars on the Sunday after folkfest, passing all sorts of walkups (that must be the walkup capital of the city), and I started thinking back to all my friends who lived in walkups at a specific time in my life – a few years after University, it seemed.
Jacquie and Joanne in a little place near Heritage Mall.
Gary near Calgary Trail (after our basement suite got too depressing for him). I can’t remember his roommate’s friend for the life of me.
Margaret and Anna near mid-town. That was the coolest one, and perfect for two single girls, with the main living space in the middle, and Anna at one end (with her own bathroom), and Margaret at the other (with her own bathroom).
Kim and Chevy near Southgate.
Here’s the thing about walkups. They have all the downside of apartment living, and very little upside. Sure, you’re closer to the ground, but that also means more street noise and crappy views. Elevators are rare, so moving stuff in and out will make your friends curse long and hard (because none of us could afford movers at that point in our life – that’s for sure). And while I’ve seen some pretty swanky apartment buildings, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a swanky walkup.
I avoided the walkup phase myself, starting out in a basement suite, then moving into this cute yellow house near University with my good friend Marilyn. That house was a lot of fun. It got a little weird from time to time, like the summer an acquaintance of ours rented out the garage to live in. Or our rule about not having sex on the couch, but it was okay when our friends did. Weird times. But good times.
I don’t miss those days. Yeh, I’m lying.
