“America is my country and Paris is my hometown.”
~Gertrude Stein
Well, Gertrude, I’m Canadian. But I totally get what you mean.
As I write this now, I live in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada – just a 20 minute drive from the house I grew up in, where my parents still live to this day. I did escape for a while, and spent a few years living in beautiful Victoria, BC, loving every minute of it. Then, the former boyfriend and I parted ways and, because I wanted to be on my own for a while and needed to put a little distance between myself and the ex, I moved back to Edmonton.
“Temporarily”.
That was 19 years ago.
I spent my last night in Victoria at the beach with friends. 24 hours later I was back at my mom’s house.
It snowed.
In August.
I joked that it was an omen.
I no longer think that joke is funny.
hoar frost
Returning to Edmonton, I was quite content living on my own, being an independent young woman working at a job I enjoyed – a job which had international transfer possibilities that I was keen to take. I fought the girls I worked with, who saw my lack of a boyfriend as some kind of disability and insisted on dragging me out to the bars (a place I’ve never felt comfortable) and even set me up on one disastrous blind date. I was on my own and happy that way. In January the following year I lost my job, but I rebounded and shortly after started a new one. A few days into my shiny new job, I was minding my own business, being given some instruction by my new boss, when everything changed. We’ve all heard about “the lightning strike moment” – that uncontrollable jolt you feel when you meet “the one” – well, that’s what happened to me that day. I heard my boss say “Have you met Daniel?” I looked up, extending my hand, and our eyes met. That was all it took. He shook my hand, I mumbled “hi” and a moment later he was gone. I tried to brush it off, tried to ignore the huge smack in the head that cupid had just delivered to me, but I realized later that it was no use. For the next two months, we chatted and flirted but maintained a simple friendly co-worker relationship, until one day when we discovered that we lived quite close to one another and he gave me a ride home from work. The rest, they say, is history. More than 18 years later, we are still together, married, with two dogs and a beautiful home.
So, you might ask, what’s the problem? I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful home, dogs I adore and family close by – isn’t that what we all work towards? Well, the problem is I hate winter. Actually, go be more specific, I hate Alberta winters. And Edmonton gets a LOT of winter.
ugh... winter
I hate having to put on 9 layers of clothes (yes, I’ve counted), just to take the dogs for a walk. I hate being in a place that frequently reaches temperatures of -27°C or lower (-37°C or worse with the windchill). I hate scraping windshields and starting the car 10 minutes before you want to go somewhere. I hate slipping and sliding and wrenching my back because I have to walk on ice and snow for months at a time – though this keeps both my chiropractor and my massage therapist plenty busy. And, each year, when spring finally arrives, I hate the fact that everything in the entire city is brown and muddy and gritty from the repeated sandings the roads have received to keep the roads driveable. In short, winter makes me cranky. And I’m tired of being cranky 5 months of the year.
Don’t get me wrong – I am proud to be Canadian, and I am very thankful that I have grown up in a country that has all that Canada has going for it. It is a very peaceful nation - a safe place to live, and politically stable, yet where we are all free to complain about our government (and do we ever!) without fear of retribution. We also enjoy a relatively low cost of living, the people are kind, and opportunities are plentiful. I’m proud to be of a nationality known the world over for being polite, kind, fun and peaceful. I wear the maple leaf proudly and cheer for Team Canada at every Olympics.
Go Canada!!!
That said, aside from the winters, there are other things about our life here in Edmonton that I would like to change. We live in a huge, sprawling city that takes up more land than New York City, yet has only 1,000,000 residents (yes, we’re spoiled for personal space – Canadians in general are) but all this space means you have to get from A to B, and here, that means having to get in a car every time you need to go anywhere or do anything. Run out of bread or milk or eggs? Get in the car. Want to go to the farmer’s market? Get in the car. Want to go to a bookstore? Get in the car. The closest amenity to our house right now is a Starbucks, and it’s 1.5 km away. 6 months of the year, we get up on the weekends and take the dogs for a nice walk to said Starbucks, get a coffee and sit on the patio for a bit before walking home. In fact, it’s one of my favourite things to do; sitting at a café with the dogs at our feet, chatting or reading or just people watching. I want to live someplace where that can be a year-round activity, and where there is more than one café to choose from within a 1.5 km radius. I’d really like to live someplace where I can walk more, or heck, even ride a bike without fear of being mowed down by some dude in a pick-up truck.
Tower Bridge in London
As a child, I was always drawn to images and stories about Europe. While my sister was daydreaming of beaches and life in sunny California, I was envisioning green hills, castles, cobblestone streets and town squares surrounded by cafés and shops in buildings hundreds of years old. Yet it was not until just four years ago that I had ever visited Europe. Our dear friends, Shannon & Josh, took an opportunity and moved to London for a year so he could get his Master’s degree, and invited us to visit. We jumped at the chance, and headed over for 2 1/2 weeks – my very first trip across the Atlantic, but certainly not my last! Seeing as we were going to be just a train ride away from Paris, a city that I had dreamed of many many times, we decided to take a few days out of our UK visit and get a taste of Paris. As excited as I was to be seeing the UK, I was absolutely over the moon about three whole days in Paris.
Shannon and my husband had each been to Paris before, and were a bit concerned that I might have set my expectations so high that I was destined for disappointment. Dan told me that some people consider Paris to be a fairly dirty city, that the French have a reputation for being somewhat rude. I appreciated his concern, but told him that I was envisioning a historic and charming city, patinaed by centuries of history. As for the people, well, I’ve always believed you get what you give. If you’re rude and obnoxious to them, then it should come as no surprise when they dish it right back to you. I felt I was prepared for what Paris would be, but admittedly hopeful that I would not be disappointed. However, what I was not prepared for was the immense feeling of “Home” that I experienced when I first set foot outside the Gare du Nord and we began walking to our hotel. My entire soul became peaceful and light, and at that moment, our life in Canada felt a chill run down its proverbial spine. It was like the lightning bolt moment all over again…
outside Paris' Gare du Nord
Julia
