Canada pt. 4



Sunday, July 2

We drive at least 3 hour drives every day, with some drives as many as 16 hours. Civilization is so spread out here that we have to fill the gas tank as soon as it hits the half-empty mark, because we don't know how far the next gas station will be. I've spent most of my time on the road looking at the Canadian scenery, which is very impressive. From the rugged Canadian Rockies, to the unbelievably flat prairie (the sky is really something at night--alas, no aurora borealis sightings, though we did see quite a lightning storm in the distant sky one night), to the heavily wooded and lake-filled area approaching Lake Superior, Canada is just loaded with natural beauty.

I am now officially the furthest East I've ever been in my life. Until a couple of days ago, before we left the Regina, Saskatchewan area Denver had been the marker for me. Edmonton, Alberta is now the furthest North I've ever been.

I've been in Canada for a week now, and have quite a bit to say about it. Many of my observations will be old news to people who have been here, and some will probably be offensive to those who are from here (referred to as "Canadians" or "Canucks" south-of-the-border), but fuck it. It's all in good fun and full or irony and satire and all that disclaimer shit. Also, anything I say doesn't apply to my pals in Choke (Sean, Jack, Clay, Stefan and Graham) or to any of their friends or family.


Tuesday, July 4

It's Independence Day, and I'm in Canada. Doesn't look like I'll get the chance to see 'The Patriot' starring Mel Gibson today. We're driving from Sudbury, Ontario, on our way to London, Ontario. London is 100 miles or so northeast of Detroit and about the same distance in the other direction from Niagara Falls and the New York State border. Hopefully, there will be some kids from one of these places at the show tonight, and I can ask them to tell the U.S. happy birthday for me. I won't be seeing her again for another five or six days.

Ah, Canada. It's really nothing but scenic views and conversion ratios to me. For someone who hasn't traveled outside of the U.S., it's like being in an alternate universe where the rules of reality are eschewed and the inhabitants talk the same language, just a little off. It's essentially 'Bizarro' America.

For one thing, space is measured differently. Instead of the mile, they have something called the "kilometer." The effect is that the actual distance between two points is 2/3 the number displayed on the roadsign. Unfortunately, this doesn't help you get anywhere faster, as no major city in Canada is within half-a-day of another major city. A second complication of the Kilometer Effect is that it decreases your speed. When we first passed over into British Columbia, Smiff read the speed-limit sign and thought it was telling him he could go seventy miles-per-hour on a two-lane country road. Fortunately, he was reminded of the new rules before we rocketed over an embankment and/or got ourselves deported.

Another thing that's different is the money. The Canadians use Monopoly Money, which is about one-third less valuable than Real Money (what we lose in our diminutive distance measurement, we make up in the value of our legal tender). The Canadians seem to be somewhat upset about the relative worthlessness of their cash. At a 7-11 in Vancouver, Smiff light-heartedly referred to the multi-colored bills as "funny-money." The clerk's response let us know this was a touchy subject--"It's not funny to us." How can these people come off like their money's not a joke when the $1 and $2 coins (they don't have bills for these) are called "loonies" and "toonies"? Oddly, this money is adorned mostly with images of celebrities rather than great historical figures. In fact, the only bill featuring a Canadian is the $5 bill, with it's picture of Canadian national hero and king-of-pedophilia-movies Gene Wilder. Just to be confusing, they put a guy with the same first name--Gene Hackman--on the $10 bill. I had to study the tiara-wearing guy on the $20 bill for a considerable amount of time before finally figuring out who he was. When I asked a nearby Canadian kid why their twenty featured Richard Simmons, he responded "That's the Queen, dude!" I explained that I was aware that he's a queen, but what's he doing on their money? I also had trouble recognizing the figure on the $50 bill, until Jade took a look at it and exclaimed "J. Edgar Hoover insinuated himself onto the Canadian fifty!" The $100 bill features Western icon Sam Neil. I haven't seen the $500 or $1000 (assuming that much Canadian money would ever be passed around at one time), but I sure hope that the greatest person ever to escape Canada--John Candy--is featured on one of those bills.

These and similar changes in the basic elements of existence made it especially hard to adjust during the first couple of days in Canada. In Vancouver, we went to a barbecue where some skater jumped what appeared to be a fifteen-foot gap between two ramps. I wasn't sure how impressed I should be, as that distance up here could be anywhere from half to twice as long as it appeared. I was also confused when a professional masseuse showed up at the barbecue and we started discussing paying her for massages. Her rate was $10/minute, but I wasn't sure if she meant American or Canadian dollars, and I didn't know if Canadian minutes were the same as American minutes. People assured me that Canadians measure time on the same scale as Americans, but I remain skeptical; in some places in Canada, it's still daytime at 10 p.m. We all decided to get 10-minute massages, which were incredible. The masseuse had an extra pair of hands, which she unveiled only when the massagee was facing down on the table and too relaxed to investigate the anomaly. While discussing the massages later, we discovered that Smiff was the only one of us whom she had asked "Is there anything else I can do for you?"