A big thing to do for Canadians is to go to the States and shop. Shop for what is pretty much irrelevant as everything is cheaper in the States. I realized this when I went home for a family vacation and saw 10 big Gatorade for $10. Cheap!
And I’ve heard of these shopping excursions from practically everyone I’ve met in Canada. I keep forgetting the States are a destination for Canadians. So when I got invited to go along this weekend, I went.
The border is surprisingly close to Vancouver. About a 30-40 minute drive, so the ease if getting there was made clear. The border wait can be a pain, unless you have Nexus which is a very involved application, buy it’s payoff is quick and near painless entry. It’s most useful if you travel to Canada a lot as few US airports use it. If I ever become a permanent resident, it’d be worth it.
There’s a bit of a drive to the outlets, and it’s immediately clear I’m back in the States. Speed limits are posted in MPH, mile markers, distance to the next three locations are in miles and the signs for gas and lodging are blue and normal. There’s an immediate sensation of being home, back where I belong. Back among my people.
I hadn’t realized it before but there is a strong yearning to talk with other Americans sometimes. Sitting in the back seat, listening to idle conversation I remembered coffee with Joshua Lenon a couple weeks ago.
We know each other via Twitter, and he was in town visiting in laws. He’s an American and wanted to check in on how the transition has been going. I found that a little odd as he reads this blog, but also nice. People don’t ask how things are going, as if I’ve lived here all along. So we got to talking, trading stories, challenges and quirks we didn’t realize our own country had. It was fun.
And in the car I realized talking to other Americans is important. They get it. They can sympathize and offer pointers and advice. Not that my new found Canadian friends don’t, there’s just something different have to learn it all from scratch versus being raised in how it all works. The little things they don’t think about my American expats do, and that makes a difference in adjusting and enjoying my time here versus hankering to get back to the familiar.
This all sank in by the time we arrived at the outlet malls outside Seattle, so I set it aside to enjoy and experience American shopping from the Canadian perspective.
And man do Canadians love US outlet malls. The parking lot was overflowing, and most license plates were from British Columbia. What was also obvious, once we got out of the car and started walking around the outlet mall, was the complete dominance of Caucasians.
I have gotten so used to being a minority it was a bit of a jolt.
We browsed, purchased some items from various stores, some of which I had forgotten I longed for. Clarks, for example. They sell the most comfortable shoes, and I have pretty much worn down mine. When I showed the non-existent treads on my shoes to my friends, and then what the treads are supposed to look like, they responded: “You do walk a lot.” Yep.
A stop in Clarks yielded a couple pairs of shoes since, just like the outlets back home, there was a sale.
The outlet mall was almost identical to the one back home, and again I realized what isn’t in Canada that Americans probably take for granted. It is such a rich, varied country it’s a wonder it hasn’t broken into distinct sections. Almost like there’s a collective conscious driving everyone, giving some slack on the leash to create such variety will tugging now and then to keep things in line.
And then there is Cabella’s.
I’ve heard of this store a few times. Vancouver people are big outdoors people. Camping. Hiking. Running. Sailing. Skiing. If it’s outdoors they’re into it. Cabella’s is a big outdoors store so, naturally, a favorite of Vancouverites, ans especially my traveling companions.
It looks eerily similar to Bass Pro. Might even be owned by the same company. And the first thing you see when you walk in is this:
How American. But for safety, really, as they have a full gun section off to the left, complete with repair shop, ammo purchase and new gun sales. They even sell crossbows and have a practice range.
I’m hard pressed to think of an outdoors store in the States that doesn’t sell guns, but I can’t recall seeing such a sign at the entrance either. Granted I always went to Bass Pro through the mall entrance. Or perhaps I’ve passed such signs so many times it stopped registering. After all, trying to shoot a ground hog was an Easter tradition when in was a kid. Guns are just part of the American fabric.
But being in Canada, where even alcohol is sold only in liquor stores and not in a special section of the grocery store, it’s different to step into an American outdoor sporting goods store. Things I found normal and thus paid little attention to now stick out.
All in all it was a fun trip. I usually hate shopping. OK. OK. I hate shopping. But perhaps going with an open mind, no expectations and good company made a difference.
And it was a new experience. I had to cross and international border to get there. And then cross again to get back.
By plane. And now by car. New experiences keep racking up!