by Stephanie McCarthy of South Australia
Steph continues to record her observations of Canadian culture while attending her son's wedding in Saskatoon....
July
1st at the University of Saskatoon.
Our first week was spent in an air B&B
in Saskatoon on the wrong side of
the tracks (the river to be exact). The house we were in and others in this
area tended to be basic and tired, as if the winters had taken their toll and
their owners had no finance for repairs. Most of these homes were of wood,
because there is little stone to be had near Saskatoon, a city built on such
flat vast plains that it is said that if your dog runs away you can see him
running towards the horizon for three days!
The streets were beautifully shaded
with the leaves of gracious elms, and every now and again we’d come across an
upraised vegetable plot bursting with healthy herbs and tomato bushes, and the
entire plot OUTSIDE on the verge, sometimes even on the median strip. ‘How come
no-one is stealing from these gardens?’ we wondered as our eyes searched for
one or two basil leaves to go on our pizza that night. ‘And how come there are
no snails and slugs ravaging these gardens?’
On the median strip, trees, sans flowers
Soon we noticed the hanging pots of flowers, bright petunias or
geraniums, not just outside almost every house no matter how small or run-down,
but lining streets and bridges. ‘What is this wonderful obsession with
colourful flowers?’ we asked ourselves. We decided that the answer to the first
question did not reflect well on Australians (our community plants are often
stolen, and occasionally our private ones are too, but then again, we are a
land founded on the British need for somewhere far away to send its riff-raff
convicts).
As for the second question we began to realise there are no bugs
because they simply could not withstand winters of minus 30. (my son insists
there are bugs in Canada, but we saw none, so there!) The problem for the
houses and cars of Saskatoon is that they too, find it hard to withstand the
flexing muscle of ice and snow, and some cars were rusting while most houses
were, as I said, looking worn and tired.
Then we tried to imagine this flat district
covered in white, with no greenery lining the streets and no flowers adorning
every doorway and light-pole, and no garden plots in sight – and we shuddered. We
realised that we are not made of the stern stuff needed to survive winters in
Canada. But we also had the answer to our third question – of course the Canadians
cherish flowers in the summer, because on the winter landscape there’s little
colour to delight the eye.
Below, an indigenous group in Saskatoon
On
the morning of Canada Day our marijuana-smoking alternative B&B hostess
packed up her car and headed for a nearby heritage national park to join an
indigenous group who had organised a ceremony certainly NOT designed to
celebrate their lands being taken over by the British Empire.
Jim throws a hatchet!
The
day after the wedding the bride and groom had arranged some events which we
hadn’t bargained on – the weirdest was the axe-throwing in a ‘lumber jaxe’
gallery. The boys hurled the axes hard and fast at the maple leaf painted on
the wooden log targets (imagine axing your national emblem!). The noise of
thuds and clangs and crashes echoed violently around the building. The older
men threw in a more measured way and often scored the best. After the first
throw I needed to downscale from heavy ax to something the size of a tack
hammer after nearly dislocating my shoulder, but that aside, I won’t be taking
up the sport of ax-throwing any time soon, unless Maurice commits a misdemeanor
of course!
More of Steph's Canadian adventure soon....
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