Maple Syrup
Beavers
Sock&Sandal Hippies
The NDP
Gretzky
Curling
This Hour Has 22 Minutes
Don Cherry
Passive-Aggressive Politeness
Prairie
All these things make up something uniquely Canadian. Now, some people won't identify with the prairies, or they may have an aversion to maple syrup, or they may see Jack Layton as a communist conspirator. Nonetheless, these things combined create something uniquely Canadian, whether we admit it or not.
A few quotes from Will Ferguson's Why I Hate Canadians should be appropriate here...
"The border between Canada and the U.S. was forged in geography, trade routes, blood, war, threats and ultimatums. It was not a psychological yearning that kept us clinging to the border, it was the combined threat of frostbite and Manifest Destiny."
"Could Canadians have chosen a less inspiring emblem? The Russians have a bear, the Americans a bald eagle, the British a lion rampart - and Canada? Canada has a beaver. If you want to play a round of Could'a Had, the list is long. We could'a had a timber wolf. Or a polar bear. Or a bison. Or a lynx. Or even the conveniently named Canada goose. But no, we got stuck with a 30-kilogram, bucktoothed rodent whose most heroic trait is that he thinks to slap his tail to warn his buddies before he runs away."
One thing I noticed last night (that may or may not be unique to other parts of the world at night), is that Canadian towns all look the same on the drive through. I was out on the Westside last night hanging out with a few friends when I came through the city's downtown. For a few moments, I wasn't sure where I was. I saw the fast-food neons, vacancy signs, the obvious Wally's World (a.k.a. Walmart), and side streets that slipped quickly and quietly into the suburban neighbourhoods off the highway strip. It could have been Kamloops, or Regina, or Winnipeg. The annonymity was a bit overwhelming, as I rolled down my window and wondered when this place had become so strange but at the same time so familiar.
It is still strange to me why certain things feel like home. When I return back to Lethbridge, it's the coffee shop. The familiar trips across the river. It's the recognizable faces. It's the dogs greeting me at the door. My family, friends, former acquaintances. Ex-girlfriends, ex-teachers. But once again I wonder... what's changed? The town may have grown a bit, and the staff at the local grocery store has probably turned over a time or two. I used to wonder why everything didn't just look so different, but why it felt so strange. I think I realized that the scenery doesn't change... just the eyes do.
I think about the coast in the same manner, and I yearn for that sense of what I know. I knew the ferry schedule really well. I knew exactly how long the #14 bus took to get from the stop across from my apartment to the school, and what days I should make sure I'm early in case one is too full to pick me up. I knew that the Moka House in Cook Street Village was a place I could always go for an escape. Even though I knew people that frequented the shop from time to time, I also knew that I could preserve my annonymity through headphones and a quiet table in the corner. I could also enjoy the fact that downtown was a mere 10 minute walk, and if I needed a taste of the ocean, I just had to hop on my bike for 10 minutes for that much-needed indulgence. I've been here in the valley for more than six months, and I still don't know my way around. I don't have a hangout (other than my sponsor school), and I'm still not sure what the best way to get to downtown is. Much of this has to do with the fact that my schedule doesn't allow such indulgences right now, but I'm hoping that it'll come. I do like it here... but it's going to take some time for me to make it feel like home.
- T
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