Canada Inside vs. Outside, Part 1

The United States has a definite bumper sticker culture. You can easily entertain yourself on long road trips in the US by learning intimate personal details about those fellow travelers with whom you share the road for only a tenth of a mile, or however long it takes to pass or be passed. The guy in the GMC Jimmy supports the troops and the Denver Broncos. The girl in the Chevy Cavalier listens to 104.1 Country Classic and brakes for garage sales. The old man in the Buick LeSabre believes that “You Can’t Be Catholic AND Pro-Choice.” The lady in the Ford Expedition says that if I’m out of a job, it’s because I’m buying foreign products. The guy in the Jeep Cherokee voted for George W. Bush and then, probably regretting that decision, was unsuccessful in removing the entire sticker. The old couple in the Ford Escort believe that marriage equals a male symbol plus a female symbol. The young guy in the Dodge Ram is a SCUBA diver and thinks that “vegetarian” is an old Indian word for “bad hunter.” The couple in the Toyota Sienna have a daughter who is on the honor roll, a son who was student of the month, and love their Cocker Spaniel. The young man driving the Cadillac has a last name of Ramirez and wants everyone to remember his friend Diego Juarez who died on December 8, 2006. The couple driving the Mazda 626 believes that Darwin is a fish who eats other fishes. And, the guy driving the Ford F150 endorses NASCAR, the National Rifle Association, and little boys urinating on Chevy logos.

I don’t know if Americans have always been quite so enthusiastic about broadcasting their beliefs to all others on the roadways. I can remember, when I was quite young, the first time I saw a chrome fish symbol on a car. I asked my mom what that was, and she said, “I don’t know. They are probably a minister.” Well, certainly, if the numbers of fish symbols on cars in the US now are any indication, there is a significant proportion of the population who are ministers.

I’ve always found it puzzling why people in the US are so anxious to express their (often controversial) views on their vehicles. Maybe they think that others will let them cut in during heavy traffic if they indicate on their vehicle that they are Christian or because they voted Bush Cheney 2004. Perhaps it was the political climate of where I lived in Michigan, but I always was a bit afraid of putting any political bumper stickers on my car for fear that someone who disagreed would vandalize my car. While I was still in the US, I did affix a Canadian flag, a St. George flag, and a Red Wings decal to my car—all of which were not controversial in the US.

When you drive to Canada from the US, one of the most notable differences after you cross the border (other than speed limits in KM per hour and bilingual signs) is the lack of billboards. The countryside seems so much more beautiful and vast, but that may be due to the lack of billboards. The other notable difference is the lack of bumper stickers. My car, still sporting its three decals, is quite gaudily decorated by Canadian standards.

I’ve found that I experience a significantly lower amount of stress when driving in Canada because I don’t have to sort through emotional baggage. Let me explain. When driving in the US, if another driver cut me off, I would get mad. But then I would get even more angry when I saw the McCain for President bumper sticker. My sister once even lost her temper when she pulled up to a stoplight--she rolled down her window and angrily chastised the couple in the car next to her for their anti-gay bumper sticker.

This whole element of the driving experience si pretty much missing from the Canadian roadways. You hardly see any bumper stickers, and those you do see are always innocuous—usually something like “Gimme My Timmie’s and No One Gets Hurt” or a Canadian flag.

After a few months of considering this striking difference in the cultures, I have concluded that it is actually the result of a much larger cultural identity, something I can only describe generally as Inside vs. Outside.

With a few notable exceptions, Canadians generally keep what’s important to them, whether it’s their opinions, beliefs, their decorating expertise, or their personal mementos on the inside. This characteristic is in direct opposition to the general tendency of Americans to show their opinions, beliefs, decorating expertise, and personal mementos on the outside.

Over the first few months I was in Canada, I began to gradually notice that Canadians do express their political, cultural, and religious beliefs on the road—they don’t use bumper stickers; instead they hang a variety of objects from their rear-view mirrors! While some Americans will have items hanging on the rear-view mirrors, it seems a really large percentage of Canadians do. If you look carefully, because you do have to look inside cars, you’ll see miniature soccer balls, rosaries, icons of religious figures, flags and banners of countries, flags and banners of sports teams, and crystals and other jewelry dangling and swaying with the movement of the vehicle.

A couple of friends from Michigan were visiting us in Ontario recently, and we were on highway 401 near Toronto. We were discussing the lack of bumper stickers, and I told them that the Canadians more than make up for what’s not on their bumpers with what hangs from their rear-view mirrors. As soon as the words left my mouth, we were passed by a mini-van with what appeared to be a moderately-sized chandelier hanging from the rear-view mirror. There are times when I wonder how some drivers have an unobstructed view of the road because of all the things hanging in their front window.

In some ways, Canadians are probably smarter than Americans with their auto decorations. I know that personally, when I lived in the US, if someone was trying to merge into traffic in front of me and he had a Bush Cheney bumper sticker on their car, I wasn’t giving an inch. Here, I have no reason to resent Canadian drivers unless they are just bad drivers. Why Americans feel that everyone on the road should know their intimate personal feelings has always been beyond me. But, the lack of in-your-face political and religious expression on the road in Canada is part of the reason my stress levels have fallen dramatically over the past year.

Just this past weekend, Sarah and I were walking into the ice arena and walked by a van with an Ontario license plate, an anti-abortion bumper sticker, AND an anti-abortion license plate frame. Back in Michigan, this type of expression would have been the norm. But, walking by the vehicle that day, we were quite surprised to see this. I even commented loudly enough for the driver, who was approaching her vehicle, to hear, “Wow, it’s like being back in West Michigan!” The significance of this remark was lost on the vehicle’s owner, but it was a reminder to Sarah and me of one of the most noticeable differences between our old life and new. Back in Michigan, I might have resented this vehicle owner for her in-your-face politics, but in Ontario, I actually thought it was curious, and slightly foolish, that she was so bold to proclaim her controversial beliefs to the world.

Canadians are known for being more tolerant of others' beliefs, but I wonder if this tolerance is at least partially due to the fact that they are less likely to hear others audaciously broadcasting their feelings to strangers.

No Introductions Necessary

When I first moved to Canada just over a year ago, I started my new job within two weeks. I negotiated the terms of my new employment over the phone while I was still in the US with someone I thought was from the Human Resource department. After all, the person calling and offering me a job was not one of the people who had interviewed me when I had been in Ontario for my interview a few weeks earlier. I spoke with her about salary, and I also asked her about benefits. She said, “Well, you know, there’s a pension plan, and things like that.” I thought that was a pretty odd answer from a HR representative.

Shortly after moving Canada, a few days before I started at the new company, I met with this HR rep to sign papers and fill out various forms. I asked her about vacation days, sick days, hours of work, and any other perk that came to mind. The answers I got were vague and general.

I cannot understate my horror when I reported to work on the first day only to find that the person I thought was from HR was actually my boss. I was extremely embarrassed—I realized that, to her, I must have appeared to only care about the pay and benefits rather than any other aspects of the job. During our form-filling-out meeting, every time she said, “What other questions do you have?” I responded with more questions about benefits. A couple of months later, I ended up apologizing for coming across as uninterested in the actual function of the job when I first started.

Thinking about the whole thing later, I wondered what ever gave me the impression that my boss was an HR rep. Apparently it was a natural conclusion on my part because my boss had never explained when she called to offer me the job that she would be my manager. I’m not sure what else I would have been left to think.

Looking back now, over a year later, I see that this incident was only indicative of a larger pattern that I have encountered in Canada—Canadians don’t bother with introductions. They rarely introduce themselves to you, and even worse, they don’t introduce mutual acquaintances to each other. (Of course, this could just be something at my company or something in Southwest Ontario or something with the Canadian insurance industry, but I suspect it’s deeper.)

This issue has been additionally complicated for me, as I was one who was poor at introductions while I was still living in Michigan. While there, co-workers and family members would chide me for forgetting to introduce people to each other at work and social gatherings, and it was always a nerve-racking effort to properly introduce myself to others if such a self-introduction was needed. Well, wouldn’t you know it, I am the absolute specialist on introductions in Canada.

I’m not even going to recount the details of the numerous business meetings where I’ve had conversations with people who I had no idea who they were. I could have had lunch with the CEO of the company and not known it. Social functions have been little better, and again, I’ve found myself in heated hour-long discussions about Sidney Crosby vs. Alex Ovechkin with people who could as easily have been a famous actor or a hardened criminal. (And going back to one of my most fundamental observations about the difference between Canadians and Americans, I’ve learned that it appears nosy and rude to ask someone personal questions such as “Who ARE you, anyway?”)

I’ve tried to determine the cause for this apparent lack of what I always considered a common courtesy in both business and social situations. I can’t imagine what makes it so difficult for Canadians to remember to introduce someone new to others. Of course, there are exceptions, and a few of the Canadians I work with are great about introducing me to others. Where I am from, it was ingrained that it is downright inconsiderate to not immediately introduce someone that you know to others you encounter. In fact, in most of my business and social interactions in the US, introductions were completed with immediacy, even to the point of interrupting to make the introduction so that the unknown party would not have to stand there feeling uncomfortable during a conversation. Even I, with my poor introduction skills, had to make this the first item of any personal interaction involving someone new. As well, in the US, I NEVER had to introduce myself to someone when a mutual acquaintance was present.

Knowing that stereotypes of Americans being loud and brash abound in Canada, I can get away with some behaviors that Canadians can’t. (More on that in a future post.) One of these allowances is introducing myself to others in business environments. Introducing yourself to others in the US, especially in business situations, is somewhat of a faux pas because it draws attention to another’s failure to introduce you. I’ve stopped worrying whether this is inappropriate in Canada because if I hesitate, the meeting starts, and no one knows who the heck I am—I can see it in their eyes when I first speak up.

I’ve decided that I can accentuate my US accent and introduce myself in a loud and friendly American way as soon as I realize no one else is going to make the effort. As uncomfortable and unnatural as that seems to me, I’m going to have to get used to it because otherwise I will continue to be that anonymous person who says “about,” “tomorrow,” and “dollar” funny. Polite Canadians won’t ask me, “Who ARE you, anyway?”

Seeking Margaret Atwood

My first attempt to become a cultured Canadian has been an utter failure. The local newspapers were reporting that Margaret Atwood, the famous Canadian author, would be appearing and reading a part of her new book at the local library. Tickets would be limited and given out on a first-come, first-served basis starting at 9 am on Saturday morning.

I had known, since approximately 2001, that chances were fairly good that Sarah would not be able to secure a visa in the United States and that if we were going to stay together, we’d either be moving to Canada or the United Kingdom. We worked on securing our Canadian residency as a backup plan knowing full well that it would most likely be needed. So, I began my quest to learn as much about Canada as I could. I subscribed to MacLean’s magazine, despite the expensive foreign subscription rate, and read it diligently. I set my homepage on my work and home computers to Yahoo.ca so I could keep up on the Canadian top stories. And, because I was an English major in college and had never read any Canadian literature, I started buying classic books by Canadian authors. I discovered a list of the so-called 100 Most Influential Books in Canadian History and bought and read several. As any Canadian knows, if you research Canadian Literature, Margaret Atwood’s name will be mentioned very frequently.

In the four years prior to moving to Canada, I also took a year of French at a local college, and Sarah and I visited various cities in Canada as often as we could in order to get a better sense of the country and to determine exactly which locales appealed to us if we should have to move. My goal was to be very informed about Canadian culture, history, geography, and politics before I moved—I didn’t want to contribute to the mostly true image of Americans as being only interested in what happens in the US and oblivious to other countries’ plights, even countries that share a border. And I knew this was the prevailing Canadian perception of Americans because I read about it so much online, in magazines, and in books.

I believe I achived at least a minimum level of familiarity with Canadian culture by the time I moved, but I have also been avidly continuing my research. I record every documentary about Canadian history I can find and I have continued reading the books I purchased. I really wan tto show the Canadians that Canada isn’t just a place I escaped to and am living as a second-best option, but that I have an interest and appreciation for their country.

So, when I saw that Margaret Atwood would be at the library, I thought, “What an opportunity!” Something told me that tickets would be hard to come by, so I decided to get in line at the library well before 9. I figured either there would be no one there, or there would be hundreds of people clamoring for tickets.

I left home about 8:15 and headed to the library. After getting stopped by every red light on the 12 mile journey, I arrived at the library about 8:50. I figured the library wouldn’t open until 9 am, so I guessed I’d have to line up outside the door. Well, so did about three hundred other people! As I walked past the people already in line on my way to the end of the line, I tried not to look at them because I could sense their smug expressions of “Well, I’m glad WE were in line early enough!” I did see, out of the corner of my eye, that some people had even brought lawn chairs, evidence of exactly how early they had lined up.

I fought off the feeling of futility and stood in line with the little old ladies, professor types, and students thinking, “Don’t they know I’m only here to become as Canadian as possible?” believing that if I thought that hard enough, someone might actually read my thoughts and allow me to move ahead in the line. No such luck. After waiting in line for twenty minutes, we realized that the library had run of out of tickets about one-quarter of the way through the line and were now just handing out flyers for an online videoconference.

I went back home empty-handed and dejected. So now, I’m looking out for my next opportunity for the quintessential immersion in Canadian culture. Perhaps I will secure tickets to a Neil Young concert or have lunch with Don Cherry. Once I did see Jim Balsille walking through RIM park and talking on his cell phone, but still, I don’t think that tops a live Margaret Atwood reading.