The illusive winter followed me to east Texas

(Wednesday Feb 12th, 2014)

  So I am beginning to realise that if my goal is to become more Canadian, I might as well stay here in Texas.  At the moment, Texas is competing to be it's own Canadian city.

  Coldness.  Ice.  Dare I say snow?  Giddy to see the white stuff, I venture outside to experience the cold that evaded my winter thus far.  (I experienced one snow day in Victoria this year.  Only about 1/2 inch actually stuck to the ground.)  Well Texas is making a good effort to compete. 

  




  A dusting of snow has settled on the forest floor.  It meanders over the curvature of pine cones.  Patches of crunchy frostiness cover the grass.  Persistent cycles of freeze - warm - drip - freeze - warm - drip have shaped unreal icicles.   They dangle from the eves-troughs like tinsel on a tree.  A few decorative pansies that bring vibrant colour to the landscape have frozen solid - pigmentation sealed in a shellac of ice.  

How has Texas trained me to become more Canadian?

• As long as the east Texas weather remains icy, I can acclimatize to a cold winter location (as opposed to sub-tropical Victoria).  As a Canadian, I am expected to have an impermeable skin that does not feel the cold.   I need to work on that...

• Grade school french classes have decomposed in my brain.  Here in the great state of Texas I have discovered 'duolingo' french lessons and I am embracing my bilingual heritage.

   

• I have a severe lack of winter sports skill.   I lack the talent of balance.  Skating, skiing, snowboarding all require the ability to stand on the white stuff for longer than 5 seconds.   As I grew up in Victoria where snow is mostly a myth, I did not have the luxury of a permanent frozen pond in my backyard.  My house was not situated on the side of a ski hill.  The snow and ice didn't come to Victoria to play with me, so I didn't bother seeking them out.   Thus the winter sport skills didn't develop.   If this Texas winter weather keeps up, we could see some ice accumulation.  The 'parking rinks' will provide a much needed location to cultivate balance and find my winter feet. 

Yes, I think by the time the month is up, I should be a true Canadian bilingual winter Olympian.   Perhaps I should take up 'skeleton'?  We have the perfect track right outside our door.  Let's just hope the cars keep away...

I am Canadian!!!

 Two weeks ago,  I flew out of Canada my plane touched down in Texas, USA.  (A strange, foreign land.)  How did I know that I had landed in America?  

• As we wait to exit the plane cabin, a voice can be heard above the bustle of passenger movement.  With sincere gratitude a man honours his plane neighbour of the past 3.5 hours, “Well thank you kind sir for your service to our country.” For whatever reason, I have never heard this sentiment spoken between strangers in a public venue in Canada, unless it is to a veteran on Rememberance Day.  

• Waiting for my connecting flight in the Dallas Fort Worth airport, I appear to be a ‘homeless’ traveler as my flight has not yet been assigned a boarding gate.  Any stretch of wall will do.   I hunker down next to my bags for a few hours with a subway sandwich, ready to people-watch.  And people-listen. 

  My ears perk up as the intercom comes alive with some foreign dialect that I have not been exposed to before.  Oh wait – it’s just English.  So the rumours are true – this is in fact the way a percentage of the population articulates my language!  The exaggerated southern drawls stretch out like a mound of pulled taffy.  “A-tay-an-shun play-as.   Laaaaaa-feeeeeee-eeeeeehtd naaa-ow ba-owr-daaaaing.”  It is amazing how diverse one language can be!  If the exchange students that live at my parent's house have a difficult time understanding the fast pace of the English language, they would be in for a real dose of confusion if you threw a North Carolina accent into the mix.  (No, I am not in North Carolina, but so far that is the accent which has seemed to be the farthest from my 'normal.')  

• The words “sweet-tea” and “soda” mean nothing to me.  I find my foreign language skills improving as I make the mental leap to “iced tea” and “pop.”

• Gun culture.  Hot-pink rifles for sale at Walmart.  Totally normal.  The opinion of gun usage ranges from person to person.  Some have an uncomfortable hesitation to exercise the legal right to be armed, while others confidently embrace the gun as a means to protect their family and belongings.  Some of these views are bizarre to me, but I have kept my mouth shut in order to gain an understanding of this place that I find myself in.  After listening to many conversations, I am beginning to see some reason behind these mammoth cultural differences. 

   We are all unique - that is for sure.   Such a diverse group of personalities, cultures and lifestyles.  I'd love to speak up and make it known to the masses that West Coast Canadians do things the 'right' way, speak with the 'correct' accent and have the 'best' ideas; but, if I stop and just listen to other people's stories and try to understand where they are coming from, I begin to learn about the complexities of life, and how they can shape us as humans.  In the end, no one way is the correct way to speak.  There is no one perfect way to cook an egg.  My preferred lifestyle may not be appealing to others, just as I may not share their preferences.  I may not be used to the gun-toting culture and the values that surround it, but I am trying to understand my fellow humans, and try to get a glimpse of their perspective. 

      
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  As the token Canadian in my class, I feel the entire reputation of Canada resting on my shoulders. 

So far I do not represent well.

• I have not been caught saying "Eh," or "aboot."  
• I do not yet speak fulent French.  
• I come from the only area in Canada that basically never spends it's winter months in a snowy deep-freeze.  
• I do not play the all-Canadian game of ice hockey.

   The other day, I found a way to redeem myself.  Along with the mid-morning break came a crystal serving dish of glazed donut-holes.  Eureka, I found it!  Even though it was break-time, I began to teach a lesson on Canadian cuisine.  "In Canada, we call these 'Tim Bits.'"  "Ten bits?" "Tam Bats?" "Oh.  In America we just call them 'Donut Holes.'" I'm informed.
  Oh, such a rich culture you miss!  I launched into a verbal serenade of the history of this donut chain.  "It is like a Canadian version of a toned-down Starbucks.  Tim Horton, the founder of this iconic donut shop used to be a professional hockey player..."  But these are the only facts that flowed from my memory.  Nothing else to share with the class.   As much as I had wanted to impart a touch of Canadiana, I actually don't know too much about my own Tim Hortons!  Ce la vie.

  I have discovered a healthy addiction.   "Duolingo.com"   This language-teaching website is somehow managing to refresh my brain in the french department, and I feel as though the games have become addictive.  Just as I would spend hours playing tetris, so these games keep my focus glued to le Francais!  Perhaps, if I continue to feed this addiction, I could become a more well-rounded ambassador of Canada - a bi-lingual citizen.  Well, there is a goal to shoot for.  (He shoots he scores!!!)