In preparation for the visit of an American friend, I compiled the following guide to being a visitor in Canada. While by no means comprehensive, it’s a start. I figured I’d leave singing the national anthem in French until he arrives.
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The last letter of the alphabet is zed. Thus, we refer to the Camaro zed 28, the AIDS drug A zed T, and that immortal southern fried band zed zed top.
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Tim Horton’s is the utility coffee shop of the nation. Too harsh of a critique is unpatriotic, and possibly sacrilegious. Home of questionable coffee and acceptable food, it is the stalwart companion of all cross country road trips, and no matter how indifferent someone might try to look when you show up with a box of Timbits, they’ll inevitably have at least one.
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Our reputation for politeness isn’t exaggerated; if someone steps on your foot, apologize.
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Young Canadian men enjoy playing with dangerous toys and weapons as much as young men from anywhere else, but we like to keep in mind our strong history of peace keeping, and tell ourselves that those toys and weapons are deployed to keep girls safe on their way to school, or to protect voters in emerging democracies on their way to the poles.
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Though flawed, we have a deep and powerful affection for our socialized medicine; we particularly like to rhapsodize about it while eating french fries smothered in gravy and cheese curds.
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We really do often end sentences with the word “eh?” It’s a friendly way to invite others to agree with your statement by ending it on a faint note of inquiry, as in, “It’s wrong to go to a friend’s place and have only one beer eh?” Or “It’s really frickin cold eh?” As a historical aside, note the similarity to the Scottish “Aye,” which gets used in a similar way.
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Celine Dion and Brian Adams could have happened to any self-respecting federation, and they should not be held against us.