Here is some proof that i indeed am more Canadian than the majority out there.
As slippery surface as it is to define a Canadian, to be able to see, breath, and play with small town Canada is a unique experience. From Skookumchuk to Medicine Hat to Joliette.

So far I’ve spent first otto a mezzo-8 1/2 years of my adult life in Canada. I’ve seen and met tons of amazing people in small town BC, Alberta, Saskatchewan, Ontario and Quebec. Submersed myself into their life. smoked salmons, buggied in the dunes, climbed abandoned grain elevators full of sparrows, smoked joints, slept in the mountains, surfed the beaches, participated the grueling sport of ice fishing and even curled. Met some of the nicest and some of the meanest people. But even the mean bunch was only afraid of the city folks ruining their routine.

In these 8 years, going through the motions of an international student, a traveler, a worker and an immigrant, I’ve came to understand the way Canada works. Perhaps just as much as i know the way Turkey works.

Asking for forgiveness is much easier than asking for permission.


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