Ok, I admit that like many Americans I know next to nothing about (aboot?) our large neighbor to the north. I think the Canadian government’s policies concerning the GWOT are short sighted at best. I also take some issue with Canadian criticism of U.S. foreign policy when Canada has grown feeble militarily while living under the protection of the American defense umbrella. I wish Canada had maintained the moxie of her Anglo cousins the Aussies and the Brits (ok, Quebec is French, but you don’t want to get me started on the French). To be honest, I guess I just don’t see the relevance of Canada in the grand scheme of things.

But I do tend to like almost all the Canadians I meet, and there are lots of them in Korea. Some of my favorite expat blogs are written by Canadians. I think I can even name most of the provinces (as I was challenged to do one night by some Canadians I was drinking with). I just wanted to be clear in distinguishing my criticism of Canada to my generally positive regard for the people who reside in that beautiful country (I’ve seen pictures).

I actually tried to visit Canada once but they wouldn’t let me in. It was 1974 and me and a friend had hitchiked from our southern California homes to Montana. For the return trip we thought we would enter Canada through Idaho, go west to Vancouver, and back down the coast home. We both had long hair and were looking a little scruffy from our time on the road. And the potato farmers in Idaho weren’t much on giving rides to strangers (at least strangers who looked like us). Which meant we had walked the last 11 miles from Bonners Ferry to the little border crossing of Eastpark (fork?).

The crossing closed at 2100 and we got there around 2050. The Canadian border guards asked us where we were heading, and we explained our objective. They seemed skeptical and were looking at us like the vermin many folks of the time considered long haired hippie freaks to be. Then they asked how much money do you have? I recall we each had 35 or 40 dollars, which in 1974 would have kept us fed for the week we expected to spend hitching home. The guard smirked and said “that’s not enough money to get into Canada”. After the aforementioned 11 mile march I was tired, hungry and in no mood to be dicked with. So I said, how much do I need, I will wire home and get it. The guard got right up in my face and said “son, you will NEVER have enough money to get into Canada.”

Well, I figured I would just wait till the border station closed and sneak in (it’s not exactly a secure border with barbwire fences and landmines like the one just north of Seoul). I guess that border guard was reading my mind because about that time the Bonner’s Ferry Sheriff just happened to arrive. After conversing with the Canadians he says “boys, I’m going to have to take you in and run a records check on you, so just climb into the cruiser over there”. He then drove us back the 11 miles we just walked to the Sheriff’s office. Of course, we had no wants or warrants. He even offered to let us sleep in the jail that night if we wanted. We declined and slept with the mosquitos alongside the Burlington Northern railroad tracks.

Anyway, I haven’t made it back to Canada since then, but when I do go I intend to cross the border from Idaho. It’s a matter of pride.

You may be asking yourself is there a point to this post? As if not having a point has ever stopped me before. But I actually do have a reason for regarding Canada today. I found this post at Assymetrical Information on the political situation in Canada fascinating. Which is saying a lot for me given my general who cares attitude about the Great White North. Give it a read and let me know what you think or even if you care. I would especially enjoy the perspective of my Canadian reader (that would be you Jenn).