One thing about the expat lifestyle is you get to meet and interact with lots of folks from other lands who are also on a quest of discovery. I have certainly encountered more Canadians here in Korea than I did in all my years of living in relatively close proximity to the Great White North. And having made some friends amongst these strange and mysterious people I have learned that the stereotypical view many Americans hold of our northern cousins just doesn’t hold up on close examination. In fact, I have found that Canadians are in many ways people in their own right. Go figure. (that was intended as satirical humor, just in case you missed it. Don’t want this post to be used as motivation to fire up the Blessed Bulls prior to our Monday matchup).

What prompted this post was a couple of things. First, I find this link to a story about a survey being conducted to determine “the worst Canadian of all time”. Seems that some folks want to establish that not all Canucks are polite, kind, and generous. The article says that Celine Dion and Shania Twain are in the running, but of course the leader is some hockey guy named Harold Ballard. And if you have heard of him, I expect you are Canadian (or at least related to one).

My vote, if I had one, which I don’t, being as how like most Americans I know little of that mysterious land (although I expect I could name at least five provinces if someone held a gun to my head), would be for the Canadian English teacher I encountered on last week’s river cruise. Now, this wasn’t really a hoity-toity affair, but most people dressed appropriately for the occassion. And the young cadre of ill-groomed, blue jeaned and t-shirted young people hanging out at the stern just screamed English teachers. Hey, live and let live and all that. I even borrowed a cigarette lighter from one of them. Now, they weren’t being particularly rude or loud or anything. But their wimpy facial hair and goatees just screamed liberal and their superior attitude reaked of disdain for anything as uncouth as an ignorant American. I knew they weren’t french (lack of capitalization intentional) as there were no berets and the women had shaved their legs and armpits. So, they had to be Canadian, right? Or maybe I just read too much into it. Whatever. (and yeah, I am still being satrical. Although, I guess if you have to continuously point that out, it nullifies the satire, doesn’t it?)

At the end of the cruise we had docked but folks were still milling about drinking wine, chatting and enjoying the fine April evening. Then one of the aforementioned individuals, a male in his early 20s, began removing his clothing. There were at least 50 people on the fantail plus another hundred or so walking along the Han riverside. He got down to his boxers, climbed up on the railing, and announced he was going to do a backflip into the river. And to the shock of the more reserved patrons and the amusement of his friends, he proceeded to do so. It was pretty insane. He swam around a little and I walked over to the rail and noted there was no way he could climb back on board and given the height of the dock (and lack of ladders) and the flood levee that constitutes the banks of the Han, he was going to have to be swimming for quite some time. Given his apparent state of inebriation I had visions of a tragic end to an otherwise pleasant day.

After 10 minutes or so, one of his friends climbed over the railing and perched precariously on the small outcrop at the stern and offered his arm, which was taken, and then another gent helped hoist him out of the water and back on board. The swimmer stood there grinning and dripping on the deck and must have enjoyed the attention, because he then jumped back into the river. You know, I’m sure he imagined himself the cool daredevil, but if he had heard the comments being muttered by the passengers standing near me, he might have been ashamed even in his drunken state of mind. Meanwhile, all these Koreans are lining the riverside snapping photos. God only knows what they were saying, but I don’t expect they were impressed. Eventually he was again pulled from the river and someone asked his friends where the swimmer was from. One of the gals loudly proclaimed “today he is an American!” Which kind of pissed me off and confirmed my earlier suspicions regarding his country of origin. I’ll bet he also has a maple leaf on his backpack.

But in all honesty I will say he is the exception to the otherwise fine cadre of Canadians I have had the pleasure of interacting with here in the land of the morning calm. So, here’s a shout out to Jenn of I’ve Got Two Shoes fame. My first Canadian buddy who I hope decides to stay in Korea, takes a job in Seoul, and joins the dart league. And Von Jackass, a smart and witty guy. Then there is Keel, the online novelist. Here’s a taste from Chapter 4 (which I hadn’t read before writing this post, but makes me feel less bad for good naturedly ragging on those who remained loyal to the Crown):

Although terrorism had not yet made a mark on Canada, it had sickened him to see what had befallen his historical brothers to the south – the brothers that had rebelled against the King – the black sheep of the family. They were still family though, even if they didn’t know it and acted like a spoiled kid sometimes. Keel had worked with American Special Forces in his past and had made lifelong friends with some of them. They were his brothers in arms and he felt the two countries were brothers as well. Brothers that had a common historical background, even if one had broken away from the empire at an early age while the other hadn’t.

And finally a guy I actually admire, The Goat. Of course, he is from Alberta which from what I’ve heard is not much like the rest of Canada, at least in attitude. You need to check out this video on his blog which is funny as hell and is exactly how I intended to introduce myself to Jenn should we ever meet in the 3D world.

The Goat is also a real creative guy and a fierce dart competitor. Leave a number open with him in cricket at your peril. His update of a Johnny Cash song (left in my comments to the previous post) is classic. In fact, it deserves posting in its own right:

(sung to the tune of “Don’t take your guns to town”)

A young shooter named The Goat grew restless on the farm
A bovidae filled with wonderlust who really meant no harm
He changed his clothes and shined his shoes
And combed his light hair down
And his wife cried as he walked out

Don’t take your darts to the ‘Twan babe
Leave your darts at home Goat
Don’t take your darts to the ‘Twan

So, who says Canadians don’t have a sense of humor?

UPDATE: Jenn contributes this interesting link of popular Canadian misconceptions…