When it comes to describing Stuart and Emily's suburban home on the outskirts of Vancouver, I almost find myself lost for words. I think the expression I'm looking for rhymes with Plucky Dastards. Seriously, once you get out of the downtown area, suburban Vancouver - at least, the bit of it I've seen - is very much a collection of leafy tree lined avenues on gently sloping hillsides, filled with those curious gable-end houses with extra floors and attractive extensions bolted on at strange angles and those single room loft extensions that stick up out of the roof and jut out from the main house like a private watchtower. Some of the properties look as though they would be more at home in Switzerland than in Canada, and each appears to be built at an angle so that they remain straight even through the street underneath slopes - one entire end of each home is actually propped up.

As we drove out of the city and into the suburbs, I began to feel more and more as though I just wanted to stay here and not bother with the rest of the trip - without the skyscrapers or office blocks to block the skyline, this was suddenly a different side of Vancouver altogether - a sleepy suburban town with basketball hoops in every driveway and kids bouncing balls along the streets. The sight of a car driving past was clearly something of a novelty in this part of town, and no matter which direction I looked the view was full of mountain vistas and clear blue water off in the distance - I have no doubt that they were quite some way away, but the wonderful thing about mountains is that they're so high that they can seem to be on your doorstep even if you live miles away. We pulled up in front of Stuart's house and I got out, looking around in stunned silence. The street sloped away toward the distant city, but I couldn't see another car anywhere. The houses were each concealed among a maze-like collection of trees and bushes growing around each property, and there was almost total silence. I knew straight away that this was going to be better than even the best hotel I could've booked downtown. Obviously, I can't imagine that every suburb of Vancouver is like this - like any city, there must be places where all the houses are falling down and people try to kill each other on a regular basis, but this wasn't one of them. Just up the street, the campus of the University of British Columbia was a glorious example of excess and a small town in it's own right (more of that later), and in the other direction it was just tree lined avenues all the way down to the edge of the city. To make things easy for me, I was told, arrangements had been made for a bus to stop outside the door and take me whenever I wanted either up to the top of the hill where the University was or straight down into the hustle and bustle of downtown Vancouver. I think they were joking - but people always seem so helpful to tourists over here that is was really quite hard to tell.

The main part of my first evening was spent at the kitchen table, while Stuart and Emily laid out extensive maps and guidebooks for me to pore over. They really had done a superb job of preparing for my arrival, so much so that they were nearly arguing over what each of them thought I should see first and what I should avoid like the plague. From my bedroom window, I have one of the best views of the surrounding mountains that I could wish for, and as the house is just about on top of a large hill it seems as though I'm the king sitting up in his castle and everything just slopes pleasantly away from me in all directions - I almost don't want to go to sleep, preferring to place a chair in front of the window and sit up all night watching the boats sailing up and down the Strait of Georgia far below. On the first night, sitting on my bed, I laid out all of the guides and brochures I had been provided with and attempted to sort them into some sort of sensible order with the things I'd been told I absolutely must see see on one side and the things that didn't look so great on the other. In the end, I just ended up with a huge pile of things I absolutely must see, and a very small pile of things to avoid - and I only had a handful of days to cram in as much as possible. Finally I just gave in to exhaustion, placed everything carefully on the nightstand and drifted off to sleep.

I've really enjoyed my time in Vancouver. It's been a real pleasure to be able to wander aimlessly around the downtown area, with the almost surreal presence of the snow-capped mountains at the end of every busy city street. The whole atmosphere is that of a friendly happy place, not at all the atmosphere that comes across in some of the big cities down in the US where people avoid your gaze or take a gun with them wherever they go just in case. People smiled as I passed them on the street and actually looked pleased to see me, starting conversations at bus stops without even having to hear my accent first. It's strange, because I've always been under the impression that people are generally friendlier in places where the weather is hotter, but that certainly isn't the case here - you don't want to go out without a coat in Vancouver, that's for sure. The bus drivers seem to double as tour guides, and every journey I've made has been accompanied by constant announcements over the tannoy saying things like "If you look to your left, Ladies and Gentlemen, you'll see the famous downtown markets where you can find anything you'd like at bargain prices. Oh, and to the right there are some mountains." I really can't imagine bus drivers back home agreeing to give a running commentary as they drive along their route - sometimes, it's hard enough to even persuade them to stop for passengers.

On the subject of markets, I'm told that there is a large one underneath one of the main intersections downtown - a sort of market under the road - but I've tried on several occasions to find it without success. In the end, Stuart began to look at me as though I must be slightly mad. Every day, he would explain carefully to me exactly where the market was, how to get down to it, and what time it would be there - and every day, I would get the bus downtown, hop off at the specified point, march down the steps leading to the collection of squares and wide open concrete spaces below the busy junction, and find nothing. I did, however, manage to make my way on the bus up to the rather serene campus of the University of British Columbia, which just made me want to go back to school again - only over here, this time. Cushy doesn't even come close. In the UK, higher education very much involves carrying around heavy books, living in halls of residence in a busy city and fighting traffic to get to a classroom somewhere - oh, and complaining about not having any money but still somehow managing to get off your head on alcohol every single night and waking up wearing a traffic cone. Over here, there appears to be very little point in ever leaving the University campus - the students have their very own town up on top of the hill, which includes shops, a cinema and theatre, museums and extensive parks and gardens. I found it quite bizarre that I was allowed to just wander aimlessly through the streets and past the old buildings on campus at will - you certainly couldn't just walk onto a college campus back home and start examining the architecture. As I walked across wide open concrete squares dotted with statues, students sitting on wooden benches would briefly take a break from snogging each others faces off to look up and say "morning" at me, and there was a queue of young people lining up to go into the cinema as I passed. All of the buildings were perched on top of the hill with nothing but stunning scenery to look at in all directions, and the halls of residence and lecture halls appeared to be arranged along leafy lanes which branched off from the main squares. I'm told that residents of Vancouver use the campus as a park and often ride the bus to the top of the hill and sit on benches looking out at the mountains - I've only been in the country for a few days, and already I feel as though it's where I was always supposed to be. If I go back to London and find that I can't see the Alps when I look up at the Post Office Tower, I reckon I'm going to be disappointed from now on.

I wandered right through the campus, came out of the back gates, and found that I was now walking along a twisting road which ran along the cliff top. On one side, there were either wide expanses of tree covered gardens or sheer rock faces, and on the other it was just a sharp drop down to the Strait of Georgia and the mountains on the other side. It wasn't quite the wild natural Canada I am hoping to see over the next couple of weeks, but it was as close as I am likely to get before I leave the Vancouver area in a couple of days. For a good two hours this afternoon, it was clear that I had left the city behind and was getting onto the mountain roads out of town - perhaps if I'd carried on walking, I might've ended up crossing a bridge and finding myself closer to the scenery. I eventually sat myself down on a bench on the grass by the side of the road and spent a peaceful moment looking out across the water - occasionally a couple of people, probably students at the university, would ride past on their way up the hill towards the campus, but other than that it was almost silent. It was hard to believe that I was so close to the city, and all I had really done was make my way up a hill and across the University grounds. I really didn't want to have to turn around and make the journey back up the hill to reality.

About Simon and Burfords Travels:

Simon Burford is a UK based travel writer. He will be re-publishing his travel blogs, chapters from his books and other miscellaneous rantings on these pages over the coming weeks and months, and the entry on this page may not necessarily reflect todays date.