Notes from a Large Country* - Chapter Three

Everyone is So Nice&

Gotta love such a simple but meaningful design.

Back to Canada. Keep in mind that this is my perspective of my experiences in a very small part of a very large country for a very short time. At another time and/or in another locale, I might disagree with myself and probably with you.  

Here in the Maritime Provinces, everyone we meet has been calm and cheerful and helpful leading us to think that we are in a foreign country. Oh yes, we are! One morning Mike and I stood aside on a park pathway as a string of preschoolers traipsed by on their way to the pool. It was like looking at a litter of puppies and being told not to touch. You want to take one home until you think about temper tantrums, potty training, fourth grade social studies dioramas, driver's ed . . .

The string waddled along, decked in swimsuits and colorful beach towels, heads covered with adorable hats. "Have fun in the water," we cheered. OMG, every one of them said thank you. Temper tantrums, potty training, fourth grade social studies dioramas, driver's ed. . . . Got it.

Just to extend politeness a little too far, our rental car from Alberta dings every so often asking Mike how he feels and suggesting he stop for coffee. Although repeatedly we remind the car that Mike doesn't drink coffee, she persists in interrupting. It would be helpful if she produced  a fresh glass of iced tea.

The car radio turns on spontaneously and frequently to startle us from our meditation of trees and water. Static-covered voices interrupt our silence, raising our suspicion that Big Brother is listening. We are confident he isn't hearing much. I suspect that the Google map lady went silent out of resentment or fear.

I have always thought of Canada as an older sibling. She rebelled against her parents but eventually reconciled, now sharing a monarchy with them. How mature. Canada is the land of sanity, a safe haven for our young men. So it was with skepticism that we listened as my friend Joan talked about how their house had been burglarized when they lived in Canada years ago.

There are burglars in Canada? Perhaps an illegal immigrant from the States didn't know the rules. Or husband Andy accidentally broke the lock and procrastinated fixing it and you misplaced your grandmother's rings. (I have no idea whether the lock was broken or what was missing. You get the idea.)

Joan is calm, cheerful, and helpful, possibly from having lived in Canada at one time, and not prone to exaggeration. We believe her in our brains but have difficulty wrapping our minds around the idea of crime in Canada.

A few years ago, for many reasons contemplating moving in with our older sibling to the north, I subscribed to a Canadian news feed and read some history of this beautiful country. It turns out that its history is as ugly as ours, culture decimation the name of the game. As for modern politics, they are as crazy as we are. I canceled the newsfeed.

Which brings me to the flags. Along with a heart-rending national anthem, Canada has a simple but very attractive flag, the deep red maple leaf on a white background signifying unity. Many homes fly Canadian flags. Cities display them on their lampposts. We see them on the sides of barns and buildings in town, draped over porch railings. Which begs the question: are these right-wing Canadians or are they just telling the orange-headed pres to the south to bugger off?

I'm afraid to ask although confident the response would be offered nicely.

*A nod to a favorite author, Bill Bryson.

^&A nod to Baby Sis who finds everyone so nice.