Calgary, eh?
The person behind me has taken a phone call. Also, we’re on the honour system for landing prep due to turbulence. — From my journal, IAD-IAH, as the plane entered the final descent into IAH
After the SFO debacle I ran headlong back to DC and collected myself. I showered, I slept, I went for a day trip to Providence and had absolutely no flight issues with anything. I did some yoga. I had learned a lot quickly about flying standby, selecting flights, and handling uncertainty.
It was time to try Calgary again. I had been thwarted at every turn, first by flights then by my credit card locking down when I tried to reschedule. (It took my bank that long to realize someone was frantically booking flights around North America.) I was not going to be defeated, and by now it was a point of pride just to get there.
My initial vision for the Canadian leg of this trip was to start at one side of the country and head east. When I saw the cost of the flights I balked, especially considering I wouldn’t be able to crash with friends or family. I still wanted to cross the border, so I ended up choosing Calgary for the seemingly random but entirely cromulent reason that 1. I’d never been there before, and 2. It appears to be the Canadian version of Denver. I love Denver. So Calgary it was.
Instead of flying through SFO (a mug’s game), I went through IAH and had no flight problems. On the way to Houston the person next to me had a book on hydrocracking (of the professional variety, not general fiction) in the seat-back pocket in front of him, and I realized I might well be the only person on IAH-YYC who wasn’t connected to the oil industry. (In truth I am, but we’ll leave xaosseed out of this, he had nothing to do with this trip.) Thinking of Calgary as a Canadian version Denver was helpful in some ways, but the truth is that it’s a combination of Denver, Texas, and Dublin, dipped in Tim Horton’s coffee and well chilled.
A body of water so cold that it can sustain ice along its banks strikes fear into my heart.
I had one full day in Calgary, from waking up to going to sleep, and it was my first day away from my base in DC with no planes. Thanks to a poor choice of hotel, it was also a day without data access. Calgary free WiFi in a lot of the downtown core, but when I strayed away I was entirely unplugged, free and untethered in a way I don’t usually experience on the ground. It forced me to pay attention to what was going on around me rather than splitting my attention between the world around me and the virtual world in my wee magic device. I wandered through a new country with no guide and listened and watched.
For example, I learned that in a place where it’s possible to get snow every month of the year you do things like plant gardens inside your malls:
There are few better places to enjoy a Tim Horton’s coffee.
Calgary was beautiful but cautious in its welcome. It was friendlier than many other places in the US, and the small talk felt more genuine. But I felt odd. Not as out of place as I do in the US, but certainly not the homelike belonging I feel in Dublin. The traces of Dublin I felt were in the friendliness and the light (Calgary’s latitude is 51°N, Dublin is 53°N, so our seasons turn the same way). The constant and visible presence of the oil industry as well as the tourist-friendly cowboy hat branding from the Calgary Stampede (not happening at the time) reminded me of what Texas might be like if it was Canadian and freezing. And the proliferation of health-conscious runners in Eau St. Claire park, as well as the general runner-friendliness of the city, reminded me of my experiences running in the cold crisp air and piercing sun of Denver.
I found everything I was looking for: postcards, wool, a good run, and a little time in a country I quite like but rarely have an excuse to visit. Calgary delivered, simply and beautifully, on everything it promised. Flying back through the loud and excessively rude environs of Houston highlighted the differences a little friendliness can make to the entire culture and feel of a place. The most striking similarity between Canada and Ireland was, in the end, that the people I met and the conversations I had were the best aspect of the entire experience. That’s not to imply the place itself wasn’t lovely (it was) but that the people were that fantastic.
I get a profound sense of oddness when I travel to the UK, because it’s so near, culturally and geographically. It makes the small things stand out all the more. I imagine a trip to Canada could be a similar experience for a United Statesian.
It seems to me that you’d be even more interested in a palm-frond jungle garden indoors if you’re in a City that gets snow every month, especially if your job’s what brought you there.
I felt less odd in Canada than I do in the US, and the feelings are different. But going to Canada doesn’t involve quite as much baggage (literally and figuratively) as going to the US does, for me at least.