much of a Canadian I became after all, I
read the
first one.
What follows is
a glimpse of Canada through my eyes.
“Hey buddy,
wassup?” Robert said picking
up his cell.
“Jeez, I
haven’t heard your voice in
years. Not much, not much, dawg,” his friend, Paul, answered.
“Cool, cool!
Let’s hang out tonight at the
Timmie’s, eh?”
“For sure. See
you later, buddy.”
And so it goes.
Day after day, in Canada, whether you are planning on falling in love,
seeing an old friend, or running into your
neighbor, it is all easily done in one single place: the local shopping
mall.
You don’t have to search the Internet for local dates or ride your bike
far and
wide. Shopping malls get the folks together, keeps the cold away, and
the
wallets light. And the shopping mall Food Courts are the Mecca of any
true
Canadian. After the usual retail therapy, here comes the big choice:
where to
eat. The options are countless: Mexican or Greek, Indian or Japanese,
Italian
or Chinese, Thai or Vietnamese, not that I could ever tell the
difference
between the last two. The way I always made up my mind was by comparing
the queues.
Although some would say longer the better, I say shorter, the better.
After all,
we might be eating Greek, but we are Canadians, time is money, no
bailout loans
for us.
While
walking around Canucks, you should never
worry if you look
presentable, a bit flashy, or just plain. On the native land of
beavers, there
is no such thing as fashion and everything goes as long as it’s comfy
and warm.
The wardrobe of each Canadian consists of at least a dozen flannel
shirts and
another dozen of touques. You can wear them at work, at the mall, in
the summer
or winter; it really doesn’t matter, because all you are saying is: I
am
Canadian!
Even if
you find it difficult to part ways with
your pajamas, rest
assured, you may still enter any place you’d like. There will be no
fingers
pointed at you and no gossiping behind your back. Just don’t expect any
heads
to turn around in admiration. But this is something most of us are used
to
anyway.
The only
problem is that even if you look
ridiculous or hideous, no
one will do you a favor and tell you. People are polite and politically
correct
to the point of doing you a disservice.
What
better example of this than Canadian road
manners? If you are
at a pedestrian crossing with no traffic lights, the pedestrians will
invite
you to go, while you will invite them to cross. And the story might
take a
while. So, if you are in a hurry, just drive, for God’s sake.
But, when
it comes to blocking the traffic,
pedestrians are by far
the least of the evils. It seems to be a dark spell over all the
highways in Toronto. Once you enter one, you’re stuck there for a long
time and at rush hour each one
of them transforms into a huge parking lot. To use the time
efficiently, you
should take a driving lesson book and start reading. You might get your
chance
to practice one day.
Canadians
might be polite, sweet, helpful, and
all that is good and
beautiful in this world, but not when it comes to Americans. Americans
were,
are, and will probably remain their worst foe, at least the one they
openly
admit having. For whatever reasons, Canadians and Americans cannot
stand
each other.
It might
be the proximity. Now, if you were
stuck for hundreds of
years with the same partner, wouldn’t you hate him? I know I would.
Or it
might be the bad habit of Americans to
import the entire
Canadian stock of large and extra-large outfits, which forces all the
Canadians
to stay fit while their friends over the border indulge in “all you can
eat.”
Whatever
it is, it’s there to stay, so learn to
play neutral.
I loved
the Canadian flag, because it’s red,
simple, and close to
nature. However, I found it to be quite deceiving. It shows a maple
leaf, which
you rarely see considering most of the year is winter anyway. However,
what you
always see, no matter where you travel in Canada, winter or
read the
first one.
What follows is
a glimpse of Canada through my eyes.
“Hey buddy,
wassup?” Robert said picking
up his cell.
“Jeez, I
haven’t heard your voice in
years. Not much, not much, dawg,” his friend, Paul, answered.
“Cool, cool!
Let’s hang out tonight at the
Timmie’s, eh?”
“For sure. See
you later, buddy.”
And so it goes.
Day after day, in Canada, whether you are planning on falling in love,
seeing an old friend, or running into your
neighbor, it is all easily done in one single place: the local shopping
mall.
You don’t have to search the Internet for local dates or ride your bike
far and
wide. Shopping malls get the folks together, keeps the cold away, and
the
wallets light. And the shopping mall Food Courts are the Mecca of any
true
Canadian. After the usual retail therapy, here comes the big choice:
where to
eat. The options are countless: Mexican or Greek, Indian or Japanese,
Italian
or Chinese, Thai or Vietnamese, not that I could ever tell the
difference
between the last two. The way I always made up my mind was by comparing
the queues.
Although some would say longer the better, I say shorter, the better.
After all,
we might be eating Greek, but we are Canadians, time is money, no
bailout loans
for us.
While
walking around Canucks, you should never
worry if you look
presentable, a bit flashy, or just plain. On the native land of
beavers, there
is no such thing as fashion and everything goes as long as it’s comfy
and warm.
The wardrobe of each Canadian consists of at least a dozen flannel
shirts and
another dozen of touques. You can wear them at work, at the mall, in
the summer
or winter; it really doesn’t matter, because all you are saying is: I
am
Canadian!
Even if
you find it difficult to part ways with
your pajamas, rest
assured, you may still enter any place you’d like. There will be no
fingers
pointed at you and no gossiping behind your back. Just don’t expect any
heads
to turn around in admiration. But this is something most of us are used
to
anyway.
The only
problem is that even if you look
ridiculous or hideous, no
one will do you a favor and tell you. People are polite and politically
correct
to the point of doing you a disservice.
What
better example of this than Canadian road
manners? If you are
at a pedestrian crossing with no traffic lights, the pedestrians will
invite
you to go, while you will invite them to cross. And the story might
take a
while. So, if you are in a hurry, just drive, for God’s sake.
But, when
it comes to blocking the traffic,
pedestrians are by far
the least of the evils. It seems to be a dark spell over all the
highways in Toronto. Once you enter one, you’re stuck there for a long
time and at rush hour each one
of them transforms into a huge parking lot. To use the time
efficiently, you
should take a driving lesson book and start reading. You might get your
chance
to practice one day.
Canadians
might be polite, sweet, helpful, and
all that is good and
beautiful in this world, but not when it comes to Americans. Americans
were,
are, and will probably remain their worst foe, at least the one they
openly
admit having. For whatever reasons, Canadians and Americans cannot
stand
each other.
It might
be the proximity. Now, if you were
stuck for hundreds of
years with the same partner, wouldn’t you hate him? I know I would.
Or it
might be the bad habit of Americans to
import the entire
Canadian stock of large and extra-large outfits, which forces all the
Canadians
to stay fit while their friends over the border indulge in “all you can
eat.”
Whatever
it is, it’s there to stay, so learn to
play neutral.
I loved
the Canadian flag, because it’s red,
simple, and close to
nature. However, I found it to be quite deceiving. It shows a maple
leaf, which
you rarely see considering most of the year is winter anyway. However,
what you
always see, no matter where you travel in Canada, winter or
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