The less I'm doing, the more time I have to write about it

It's hard to be unhappy in a Canadian city. At least if you're me. The reason is a very simple one.

Jaunty Canadian walk signs.

Wherever the dude on the walk sign is going, he is absolutely thrilled to be going there. Look at the upturned toes, at the energetic set of his arms. This is not a walk sign, this is a strut sign.

Last night I took a walk around the waterfront. The hostel is right next to the part of the harbor where the cruise ships dock. It's really a beautiful city. I wish I had more money, because I kept walking past really nice smelling, but rather expensive restaurants. Today should be my last day of aimless wandering, reading, and writing. Staring at pigeons and reading Proust (no, really) may be good for the soul, but I could have done that in Missoula for cheaper.

I mentioned yesterday the odd feeling of being an American abroad. I couldn't quite put my finger on it then, and it's still a little elusive, but I'm going to try again.

Basically, everyone has an opinion on America: American politics, American culture, American celebrities. If you asked me for an opinion on Canadian politics, whether I thought the Liberals or the Conservatives had a better policy, or whether I thought the Bloc Quebecois had strayed from its separatist roots, I would shrug and say I had no idea. Most people here have a good idea of what's going on in the American political system, and they have an opinion.

The Canadians seem to regard us like you might look at a twin brother, who gets a lot more attention, and while you're a little jealous, you're mostly relieved that you're not getting all the bad attention. The metaphor is a little off. Jealous isn't the right word.

Can't put my finger on it. What a failure I am, can't summarize a whole culture after a week and a half.

Tomorrow, then.