My, my, my. That moment when you crest the Coastal Rockies and drop down into the Greater Vancouver Lower Mainland – destination Vancouver. After having carved its way through the Rocky Mountains for the past thirty minutes, the plane banks to the right and begins its descent into YVR with the valley laid out like a patchwork quilt below. On the left, the Pacific Ocean splits Vancouver Island and mainland British Columbia in a wide tract of blue and green hues interspersed by the many Gulf Islands. On the right, Seymour, Grouse and Cypress Mountains begin to rise up out of the vast pine forests to frame the view. Dead ahead, the high-rise city of Vancouver nestled in the deepwater harbour.
I’d arrived. More than 5 weeks ahead of ‘the gang’, I had officially emigrated to Vancouver, BC. Leaving behind family, friends and any creature comforts, I was all alone in a foreign country that was now my new home. This place was so different on the surface to my UK home but it was just another English-speaking country – how different could it be?
Scenery
Arrive in Vancouver. Meet my extended Canadian family. Journey from the airport to their house. Blown away by my new environment. Picture snow-capped mountains running parallel to the freeway, majestic fir trees in abundance, the frequent sighting of an American bald eagle perched atop said fir trees, and thrill-seeking kiteboarders riding the waters of the Pacific Ocean to one side. This place seemed so wild, so extreme and so very different to the ordered, well-kept farm fields and village gardens of southern England. I had never felt so far from home but I loved it.
Language
The English and Canadians pretty much speak the same language, so you’d think, but I was quick to spot a few choice differences. There were the obvious ones such as ‘rubbish’ became ‘garbage’, ‘Mum’ became ‘Mom’ (this became tricky when trying to find a birthday card for your Mum back home), and your ‘washing’ turned into your ‘laundry’. But nothing prepared me for the Canadian use of ‘eh?’. Kind of like ‘okay?’, ‘eh?’ is used frickin’ everywhere. Oh, and there’s another difference – no swearing please, just use ‘frickin’ wherever and whenever you want to. But “eh?” was truly Canadian. “Coming for a beer, eh?”, “Looks like it’s going to rain, eh?’”, “I’m having a crappy day, eh?”, “Canada, eh?”. My other favourite was ‘wets’, aka an alcoholic drink or three. A favourite used by the Canadian armed forces, you’d regularly be asked out for a couple of ‘wets’. And you’d get wet, no doubt about it.
Driving in Canada
I was familiar with the compact European cars such as Peugeot, Renault and Citroen but nothing prepared me for the monstrous Sport Utility Vehicles (SUVs) cruising up and down the (wrong side of the) street. Largely driven by the pretty wives (cougars?) of men off working in the city, they were also largely driven very, very slowly. Goddammit, I craved for a frantic Frenchman screaming out of control down the freeway or for a manic Italian careening around the corner literally on two wheels. Instead, I got careful, cautious, simple driving at a ridiculously simple pace and often in the ‘overtaking’ or ‘fast’ lane (it’s called that for a reason, Canadians!). No amount of horn-blowing would elicit the slightest of reactions. Somebody once told me that I should appreciate this relaxed attitude to driving. As I was reminded at the time, “In Canada, you sound the horn and you get a gentle glance in your direction or sometimes, if the driver’s having a bad day, you might just get the middle finger. If this was America and you sounded the horn, you’d get your head blown off”. Fair point.
These were the first of many ‘subtle’ differences we’d experience over the three years of our Canadian adventure… and embrace as part of the transition to our new life. Differences aside, for now the journey was all about Vancouver, Vancouver.
Love your posts Russell! We don’t all say “eh”, but I was told my use of the word “awesome” was unique in Australia when I was there.
I remember some of the differences I experienced when I first arrived in Australia! Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was in Darwin in the rather hot and humid season, but I could not find a regular coffee anywhere! I didn’t want instant coffee (these were everywhere), but a decent brewed coffee. Well, when I found a place that made them, espresso style only (no brewed coffee to be found), I had no idea how to order it: What the heck was a short or long black, or a short white? … Finally worked it out, and of course great coffee it was.
Other differences were fun to discover: instead of “store hours”, they were called “trading hours”, “no standing” instead of “no parking”, “witches’ hats” instead of “traffic pylons”, “heaps” instead of “lots”. And I loved the slang too! I thought I was used to it as I’d had a lot of Australian friends in Vancouver, but I had to tell the first guy I met in a bar in Darwin that I was sorry but I had no idea at all what he was saying to me!
Looking forward to more of your stories.
Hi Lisa, coffee differences will most definitely be a future topic for discussion on this blog! I had the very same problem with coffee in Australia, coming from Canada, and can sympathise with you re. the long black/skinny latte versus a decent cup of regular brewed coffee!
Another important word came to mind when reading your comment – the word ‘brutal’. I loved hearing it – everything was ‘brutal, man’. My personal favourite was ‘sasquatch’ meaning someone big and hairy (aka BigFoot or Yeti). Here, someone similar is a big ‘Unit’. Always makes me laugh thinking about it.
As for understanding the guy in Darwin… that’s probably a lost cause whether you’re Canadian or Australian. I think they speak a different dialect up there!
Cheers…