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Feature - Dysfunction Junction

You can get there from here, just don't ask for directions

'Tis the season. 'Tis the season to cram the busses, to not sweater your dogs and to camp out at the post office. 'Tis the season to reconnect with your roots and your family, but moreover to reconnect with how directionally dysfunctional this village is. Whistler was designed by a man with a penchant for curvy, inaccessible structures and improbable flowing organic designs. It is pretty - don't get me wrong - but it is dysfunctional junction.

"You can't say 'go down two blocks', cause everything is round. The buildings are round. It is impossible." - resident of 1.5 years

A couple approaches me outside The Brewhouse. They are looking for The Westin. Can I help them? Yes, I can help them, I live here, I can see The Westin clear as day in my little head. I take a breath and my eyes dip momentarily for the snow. Okay, I can do this. First, I need to ascertain:

If they are walking or driving.

If they are familiar with the village.

If they know where the liquor store is in the village. Then I need to be sure that it is the one that is open more often, the one opposite a grocery store, but directly opposite, not divided by a parking lot.

Failing these, I ask, "You see this red building?"

"I usually say, 'you see this building in front of us? Okay. Well, pretend it isn't there, and go straight." - resident of six years

The couple line up behind me to follow my sight line. "Go to the other side of it, and carry along down the road."

"To the right or the left?"

"Left is better, but both are fine. Main Street is a horseshoe," I reply, and then psycho-kick myself for complicating this arduous process for these nice people.

"And then you want to go left. That is Northlands Boulevard, and just keep going. You will come to a light, cross the road, then turn right on the road that comes up. You will see a Royal Bank, and then you know you are on the right track. Carry along past the Crab Shack and The Westin will come up on your left."

In my mind's eye I have attained my goal. I am at The Westin, I can picture the lobby and the friendly guys outside. I turn, triumphant to the visitors. Their mouths are shut, they sustain weak congratulatory smiles, but their eyes communicate distress.

"Just go that way and ask along the way, it is a big hotel," I attempt to pacify them as well as myself. They leave, and turn left onto Village Stroll. They don't cross over to Main Street. From my spiel they retained that The Westin is quite a long way to the left. I shake my head and think about writing about how frustrating giving directions can be in this place.

Whistler is a small village. Maps abound; good maps are scarce. The old Tourism Whistler map was classic. It should have been bronzed or shrink-wrapped and permanently displayed for its topographical genius and its complete absence of logic. If you had the great fortune to locate the business of your choice, you would soon recognize that there was no correlation between the adjoining code and any symbol anywhere else on the map.

The new Tourism Whistler map, however, is much better. It is a map, it is "a representation (usually flat) of the surface of the earth, or of part of it." The only small item that you require to comprehend this revamped Tourism Whistler map is your doctorate in origami to reassemble it once you are confident in your bearings, nothing more.

"When people ask me for directions all I can do is sympathize. This helps no one, of course, but it allows me to chit chat and talk and analyze my deficiencies for at least 10 minutes." - resident of four years

There is an appealing flow to Whistler in my head right now, while I am not giving directions. Roads, paths, alleys and buildings have ebb and flow, a crossover, a natural course. In 1989 Whistler won The Best Overall Resort Design in Snow Country Magazine, (at which time there was no Village North, no Marketplace and no Benchlands). "Whistler is in a class by itself," The RMOW Web site elaborates. "The design principles of the village - the gateways, views, pedestrian corridors, solar access (as opposed to lunar?), building scale and form are a model for alpine village design and have been emulated by many other international resorts." I wax proud and then feel sorry for other lost people in Whistler-stencil towns.

"I think 'he' wanted people to wander around aimlessly - and feel inadequate, then buy things." - resident of four years

Granted, Whistler's design is pleasing, intricate and curious to look at. But as a resort town, it presents innumerable challenges to the direction giver and the givee. Blackcomb Way is parallel to itself, for goodness sakes. Whistler's design is stymied by the romanticism of the focus on nature and not nurture. The designer was an American by the name of Eldon Beck. The master plan was extremely detailed, from the pedestrian village concept being modelled after European mountain twins, to the specification of building heights and shapes to allow light to get to Village Stroll and to maintain sightlines to distant peaks, to the type of building materials used. I heard that the design was intended to inspire discovery and exploration: people would not find everything the first time and would want to come back. My feeling is that there needs to be an element of practical application to those late night bong revelations.

Granted, some of the inadequacies in design cannot be attributed to Mr. Beck. Let's reflect on the very secret bathroom location situation in Whistler.

"The most embarrassing thing is when visitors ask directions to the washroom. I break out the GPS and breadcrumbs.. Who came up with the bizarre, distant, shared facilities idea? But by the time I explain where the loo is, they usually have to pee so badly that their back teeth are floating and their front teeth are hauling sandbags." - resident of four years

Then we have to look at the accommodation check-in situation. The visitor can have a map in-hand, (there are a few that are actually incredibly map-like and useful), so thankfully, they think they know where they are going. They do not, however, know where they still have to go. There seems to be a custom for setting up check-in desks as far away as possible from the holiday hearth.

"Even I get confused. There are strips of buildings, not blocks. Nobody knows what side they are on." - resident of four years.

Considering the Olympics and the attention Whistler accumulates the focus may tilt towards locals and their customer service skills. It is always easier to give directions when you have a good map on-hand. I could probably count the number of map-toting locals on a stump. Perhaps a short reflection on personal direction-giving disgruntlement might lead to the consideration of packing a map or two, just in case. It would be a coup; Whistler would bask in the eternal light of the customer service gods.

"They want to know where to park for The Whistler Golf Course, and you have to explain that you turn into the parking lot off the highway. You have to turn right, (away from the course) and then right again, and then veer right as you go under an overpass." - resident of 25 years

There are two different camps vis-à-vis giving directions: the "Skip the Village" approach and the "Trust the Path" approach. The former is more accessible, but usually takes longer. Arrival to destination is secondary to the latter. "Trust the Path" is more shop scenic and better for people watching, but dicey.

"I tell them to click their heels together and say, 'There's no place like The Westin, There's no place like The Westin.'" - resident of 21 years

I once overheard some young man spout, "These tourists asked me directions and I gave them false directions. It was so funny." I was dazed. I had no appreciation for the humour of the prank, but I also recognized a poor reinvention of the wheel. This young man could have given perfect and good-conscience directions and still somehow been satisfied with the knowledge that these kind folk would probably get lost regardless. Whistler is the Venice of Canada.

"I tell them to ask directions every 20 seconds." - resident of four years

I hadn't realized when I first started thinking about this piece that I could conceivably come out of it with a greater appreciation of the whimsical meandering layout of Whistler. But these thoughts float to the surface when I am at home, relaxing, and not failing to give solid directions through no real shortcoming on my own part. I would rather feel responsible for just being bad at giving directions. But I can't own that. Whistler was not built for manoeuvrability. The interpretative direction dance goads us from the village into the mountains, where nobody needs to get anywhere but up and down. Perhaps that was part of the plan.



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