I wasn’t the only one to write this story about Fraser Street. The Georgia Straight floated the idea that it could’ve been called “Little Portland,” thanks to the tide of other hip new businesses sprouting up. It was more than a place for a scoop of ice cream, with a burgeoning scene of artisanal coffee shops and downtown restauranteurs emigrating to this part of the eastside to make their mark serving cocktails, pretty pastas, and experimental dishes like foie gras torchon and chicken liver parfait. One of those restauranteurs said the openings had brought a “distinct bounce” to the area. Another said it was “a little bit edgy … a little bit rugged, but that gives it character.” Vancouver Magazine’s guide to the area also commented on its transformation. This was a “boggy” place, a “no-man’s land” that was “of the beaten path” until these adventurous creatives came along. A realtor interviewed said that people “used to joke about needing passports to come this far east.” Somewhere in the thick of all these arrivals, a name was given to the “up-and-coming” area: Fraserhood.

One day, long after my piece was published, I was strolling down Fraser Street when I noticed banners hanging from the lampposts overhead. On those banners was a name: “Mountain View.” Eek! I had ignorantly written that the area did not have an established name. And now I was learning from banners that had been there for years that it did indeed have one.

Years later, with more journalism experience, I was determined to revisit Fraser Street. At that point, I had my own reported column called Urban Scrawl in the commuter daily Metro, which chronicled snapshots of urban life. It was the perfect place to publish my penance: a piece on the Mountain View I had ignored.

Mountain View began as a working-class streetcar suburb not too far from downtown. After the world wars, it developed a rich history as a landing place for immigrants, mostly from Poland, with a scattering of those from Germany and Austria. In the 1980s came Vietnamese newcomers, followed by those from the Philippines. Somehow, I missed all of this: that the Vietnamese newspaper Thời Báo had its newsroom in the neighbourhood and that a number of Filipino businesses – from remittance centres to turo-turo cafeteria-style restaurants – dotted the Fraser Street strip.

The Polish society building, completed in 1959, was still around. Its president, who arrived in Vancouver in 1979, told me he loved the multicultural mix of his street: “We’d run across the street from the society to grab a coffee or sandwich from the Polish deli, then go next door to have a soup from the Vietnamese place!”

How did I miss all this? I was no stranger to strolling Fraser Street, but somehow, I had ignored the elements of the Polish, Vietnamese, and Filipino communities because I’d never had a reason to visit them as an outsider. On top of that, I was too caught up in the excitement during my first attempt at spotlighting what I thought to be the “new” that I did not bother to consider what was there before.