Falling for victoria's quiet grace
My wife Sheila and I have lived through a lot in our fifty-plus years together – many addresses, many homes. Yet Victoria stands out like a red rose among a bed of white ones. We’ve been here only a few months, and already this place feels like it was waiting for us. I’ve mentioned before I feel a certain magic here. Not the kind that dazzles with tricks and deception, but the kind that sneaks up slowly and refuses to let go. A magic that wants you to stay. This is our experience living in Victoria, British Columbia as an expat and repat — less about arrival, more about learning the rhythm of a new place.
a city that keeps its secrets
Sometimes I wonder if Canadians are deliberately keeping Victoria to themselves. It lies tucked on the south end of Vancouver Island, an enchanting place to explore. You can only arrive by boat or by air. Victoria is back there behind hedges and old trees, cherished by the people who live here. Walking downtown on wide clean streets, I expected a mix of new glass towers and throwaway architecture. And a lot of cars. Instead, to my surprise, I found history—real history—still standing and still cherished. The Empress Hotel sits like a dowager Queen at the edge of the harbour, greeting visitors, while quietly refusing to leave her seat. The Legislative Assembly Building, Craigdarroch Castle, even a totem pole—they’re not just landmarks, or subjects in tourist photos, they are woven into the city’s rhythm. And it’s a very strong beat. These things people walk by every day, the harbour, the beautiful sailboats, the water taxis, the ambience give the impression this city is special. I think the locals know why they live here.
This isn’t nostalgia, or some mindless hold on the past. It’s Canadian stewardship. It’s Canadian management. A recognition that yes, a bold new future is coming but our past will not be forgotten. It’s a rich history. We build upon it and around it, not over it. We choose to preserve what came first, and hand it over to the future without sanding away its edges. Surely we can’t ignore our past. I feel that certainty as I walk the streets. Even as I see the cranes rising over the city and building going on. Victoria has a strong anchor to her past as she sails toward the future. This is rarified earth.
weather reimagined
We arrived braced for Canadian rain, not knowing what to really expect. You wouldn’t believe the typical Californian’s opinion about your weather. And frankly, it doesn’t matter for most of us which region of Canada you’re talking about. It’s all white to us, and green Christmas trees and maple syrup. Throw in a steep roof overloaded with three feet of heavy snow and a hockey rink and you understand many American’s impression of Canada. Of course it’s crazy and only half true, but in all seriousness, I expected gray skies and relentless drizzle. The kind of damp that soaks into your bones. Sticky toes in wet socks weather. What I found was quite different.
The little rain that did fall the month we arrived was minimal and gentle, almost companionable. It didn’t weigh me down; it lifted me! A light misty curtain in brisk air makes a hot cup of coffee taste better. This rain makes a walk seem like an invitation to get out and see what’s out here. I tell you even the air feels different—crisp, clean, never choking with haze or dust. Coming from cities where exhaust and horns form the daily soundtrack, the quiet here is almost unsettling. Almost. Soon I learned to recognize it as calm. That took my blood pressure down a tick or two.
HISTORY THAT LIVES WHERE IT WAS PLACED
Victoria dazzles but she doesn’t put on a show. She isn’t rash. But she ambushes you with small wonders. One evening last week, while walking our dogs along a wooded path near the water, I turned a corner and froze. Rising in a clearing were three towering totem poles, weathered and gray, carved long ago and placed there more than a century ago by First Nations people. They stood like guardians—scarred, monumental, breathtaking.
I had stumbled across an actual monument in the woods, a reminder that history here isn’t tucked into glass cases. There are museums and halls and art houses. But Victoria’s streets and trails, its waterways and its people boast a history I can see and smell and feel all around. In a real way Victoria’s history lives where it was placed, asking nothing. When you walk around the City Centre you can’t help but stop and notice where you are.
Later that same week, nature wandered closer still. Six deer appeared on the hill outside our condo at dusk. A six-point buck stood watch while the others grazed as calmly as if the grass belonged to them. Perhaps it does. They hardly looked up when people passed by. It felt less like wildlife and more like neighbors stopping by to check on things.
NATURE, JUST PASSING THROUGH
Later that same week, nature wandered closer still. Six deer appeared on the hill outside our condo at dusk. A six-point buck stood watch while the others grazed as calmly as if the grass belonged to them. Perhaps it does. They hardly looked up when people passed by. It felt less like wildlife and more like neighbors stopping by to check on things.
grace in daily life
Victoria doesn’t pretend away its challenges. Neither does it hide them. There’s a visible homeless population here, but the response feels different than in the States. Not hidden, not punished. Not attacked. But addressed. Food banks, sharing programs, community kitchens—all of it suggests a society that recognizes dignity, even in hardship.
Healthcare here is a right, not a battleground. That doesn’t mean it’s flawless. Nothing is. But the innuendo and critical commentary we hear in the US about Canadian healthcare is laughable. Interestingly, there’s an openness in how Canadians discuss it—listening, acknowledging, debating without venom. For someone who has navigated the American system as a disabled veteran, that openness alone feels like grace.
a new chapter
For Sheila, this is homecoming and getting reacquainted. For me, it’s an introduction and an exploration. Already, Victoria has gotten under my skin. You know how I feel about this capital city. There is a lot to do and see here. I haven’t even mentioned Butchart Gardens, a municipal botanical feast for the eyes, the seaplanes, the water taxis that dart about, the many restaurants. If you come here, don’t expect fireworks, but I could be wrong about that. Pyrotechnics might be a big deal here. But I would say expect something quieter and more enduring. Expect to feel, as I have, that you’ve accidentally stumbled into a place you were always meant to find.
Until next time, Cheers.
From someone living in Victoria British, Columbia as an expat.