Dear reader, you will find below the first entry in a…well I’m
not sure how long it will be yet, but let’s just say…multi-series tale about my
recent trip to Canada to visit a friend who lives in Edmonton aka central
Canada. Although this is quite a jump in time and life since I last spoke to
you – my last entry was written during my bar study period – I plan to write an
update soon about the bar and what has been going on after very soon. In the meantime,
here are some travel experiences I will share…
Early Friday morning on the last day of August (that sounds
a bit more poetic than: on August 31, 2009 at 9 am) I left the comfort of my
home in Portland, Oregon (well, Lake Oswego actually, but no one but a
Portlander and the US Postal Service notices or cares about the difference, so
we’ll just go with Portland) to visit my good friend Zenia whom I became close
friends with while travelling to SE Asia two years ago. (For more on that trip,
see my SE Asia blog: Adventures of a Bookworm Abroad.) Somehow we had let two
entire years slip by without seeing each other, keeping in touch only through
monthly phone calls and the internet. But finally, following the end of law
school (a topic for another day) and taking the bar (also for another day), we
were able to find some time for me to fly to Canada for a visit. So, ready for
the long weekend and a long anticipated reunion, I headed off for the country
we Americans often refer to as: “Oh yeah, Canada. I forgot it was up there.”
(It’s often amusing to consider how your country thinks about surrounding
nations. For instance, Canada is often a secondary thought to Americans and
most of the time we consider it a non-entity, somehow not worthy of American
concern or any real consideration. This probably has something to do with the
lack of real military – after all, we would pay much more attention to
Canadians if they were of a militant mindset – their stubborn retention of
pseudo-colonial status – the Queen of England is still on most their money, has
many of the roads named after her, and lawyers in Canada must take an oath to
the Queen before being admitted to practice the law despite their continuous
proclamations that they are independent from England – and the funny way they
say the words “out” and “sorry”. Countries often have very disparaging views of
surrounding nations.)
Zenia lives in central Canada, in Edmonton, which is in the
Province of Alberta and directly above Montana if you need a US reference
point. While I have visited Canada before on family vacations, my family and I
have always stuck to the edges of Canada, visiting the coastal regions of Nova
Scotia and British Columbia. Now, however, I was off to see something of the
rest of Canada (well, relatively the rest as Canada is quite large and I was
only going to visit two different cities in Alberta). The flight from Portland
to Edmonton is not difficult and actually quite quick, but with a transfer in
Seattle that takes just enough time such that the journey consumes most of one
day what with having to be at the airport two hours early for international
flights. Still, it was an easily accomplished journey.
Flying into Edmonton was quite an eye opener. I don’t know
why I expected Canada differ in looks from the United States. There is just something
about national boundaries that suggests the landscape and wildlife between two
countries should be vastly different. But if you consulted a map that didn’t
show the dividing line between the US and Canada you would see that those two
countries actually comprise a single continent and flow seamlessly into one
another and it is only our perceptions of them that split the area in two.
Thus, flying into Edmonton I was treated with views of verdant gently rolling
hills on the outskirts, a patch-worked landscape of farm land often dividing by
meandering streams, creeks, and rivers not so different from what I was used to
in the US. As we flew closer and closer to our destination the most telling
difference I could see between the US and Canada is that Canadian landowners
seem content to allow their water bodies to flow in any direction they so
choose. When you see the US from the sky it is immediately noticeable that,
except for the major rivers, all creeks and smaller water bodies are carefully
regimented to flow in straight lines. No longer do US water ways flow in gently
arcs and sharp curves, but rather they are forced to flow in straight lines at
the edges of plots, trapped within the confines of ditches and culverts.
Canadians have not followed this tradition and instead have built their
properties around the naturally flowing streams, allowing them to cut and bisect
their land into strange shapes and odd angles, often leaving a vividly green
buffer between the stream and the start of the farmed land. It’s a beautiful
picture, a gentle melding of nature and man’s use of the land.
We touched down in Canada and as this was my first port of
entry into the country I was immediately shuffled off the plane and toward
passport control. I can only assume after my experience there that I am an
incredibly shifty character. I have always assumed that I have a trustworthy
face, but clearly the Canadians do not agree. As I handed over my passport and
my declaration card to the passport agent I underwent a close scrutiny and asked
a barrage of questions:
Agent: Where are you from?
Me: Portland, Oregon.
Agent: Why are you visiting Canada?
Me: For pleasure.
*Long pause as Agent stares at me with a blank face*
Me (nervously): To visit a friend.(?)
Agent: Who?
Me: My friend, Zenia Toor.
Agent: How do you know this friend?
Me: We used to travel together in SE Asia.
Agent (more suspiciously): How long are you staying?
Me: Only 5 days.
Agent: Where are you going?
Me: To Edmonton and Banff for the weekend.
Agent: Have you been to Canada before?
Me: Yes, but only to the coastal regions so this is my first
visit to central Cana…
Agent (now realizing he’s made me so nervous that I won’t
stop talking until he lets me into the country): Fine. You can go. Next!
I’m not sure if the agent actually believed everything I
said at the end of our conversation or if he just wanted to get rid of me at
that point since I had clearly started on a long saga of my trip plans, but
whatever the reason I had arrived in Canada and cleared the first hurdle.
Having packed smart for this trip, I had no checked baggage and simply had to
hand my now stamped declaration card to the folks at baggage inspection and I
was ushered through a set of doors that said “Welcome to Edmonton” clearing the
second and final hurdle into Canada in no time. I had arrived.
Zenia was there waiting for me and after a long hug and some
giddy exclamations we were off. Our first point of destination was Zenia’s
house, located a mere 30 minutes from the airport, just south of Edmonton. I
was informed on the plane and upon arrival that summer really ended last week
in Canada and I was coming during the no man’s land of in between summer and
fall. This would make the weather somewhat unpredictable and it was entirely
likely that it could go from pouring rain and freezing temperatures to sunny,
warm weather in just a couple hours. Basically, the weather would be very
similar to Portland. When I arrived, however, the weather was beautiful and
Canada seemed to be welcoming me with open arms. We drove toward Edmonton and
went to Zenia’s house which is located on the southern edge of the city in a
suburb. Although I had heard a great deal about Zenia’s family and had even
talked to them a time or two on the phone during our travels to SE Asia and in the
two years since then, this was our first meeting. Her immediate family living at
her house in Edmonton consists of her two parents and her grandmother. I was
greeted with warm smiles and hugs all around upon arrival, but Zenia had plans
to go out that couldn’t wait and I was quickly shuffled back out after placing
my bag in my designated room.
We headed back out to the car and were off to the city,
heading to an area known as White Ave, shorthand for the main street White
Avenue, located near the University of Alberta where Zenia went to college.
Evidently most Canadian kids tend to go to college in the same town in which
they were raised, rarely venturing out to new parts of the country until
graduate school or for travel if they ever leave their Province at all. This is
quite a difference from what I was used to. In the US kids almost always go to
a new city or even a new state upon leaving for college and it is incredibly
rare (and somewhat frowned upon) to go to a college nearby unless it is a
community college. And so, after a quick look at Zenia’s alma mater, we parked
her car and headed to White Ave for dinner.
We ate at what can only be called a hipster bar. “Hipster”
is a term that has been coined fairly recently and is somewhat difficult to describe
although very easy to spot. Generally, a hipster is someone around 20-30 years
old, who is decently well off, secretly uptight, pretends to be easy going,
drinks a lot of beer, and wears a lot of plaid and skinny jeans. Just keep this
term in your mind and even without knowing an exact definition, you’ll know a
hipster when you see one. The restaurant, Sugar Bowl, was a great deal of fun
and had excellent food. Being so closely located to a university it was
naturally packed, but after only a short wait we were shown to a table. There
can be no complaints about the foot in Canada. I have found that often Canadian
restaurants offer a blend of cuisines, incorporating American food, various
European foods, some Asian, and, occasionally, Mexican options on the menus. I’m
not sure what Canadian’s consider to be purely “Canadian food,” beyond maple
syrup of course, but often the local restaurants offered this blend. The
Canadian’s do have one failing on the food front, however – like the
Portlanders, the Canadians are obsessed with dairy and try to incorporate dairy
into almost everything they make. At one restaurant during my trip…but that story
is for another day. For now, we’ll leave it with a simple statement that Canada’s
dairy love makes it very hard to have allergies in this country.
After eating a hefty meal it was quite late and after a long
day of travel that had begun at 9 am in Portland and concluded at 5:30 pm on my
arrival in Canada, I was tired and ready to head home. So back to Zenia’s home
we went. Zenia and I did manage to stay up late, however, watching Bollywood
movies in her basement, much to my delight. (If you have yet to experience the
delight of Bollywood, you are seriously missing out and should spend some time
rectifying this deficiency in your education as soon as possible.) While the
first day of any trip is generally sparse on news as it usually involves a
great deal of travel, it can also offer insight into how the rest of the trip
will likely progress. In this case, my travels had been easy and smooth and so,
with three and a half more days to go, I was sure to have a great deal of fun.
