It’s funny how we like to call ourselves Travellers, or even Adventurers, whenever we go somewhere new, but we call all those other people who come to the same spot – Tourists.
I’ve sometimes wondered what it would be like to write like a “real” travel blogger. Who knows, I might immediately get offered perks like six free nights at the Paris Hilton – or not.
Whenever I told anyone back home in Oz that we were coming to Canada for Christmas, they all said the same thing. “Wow, you’ll have a white Christmas!” I didn’t exactly say “Bah, humbug”, but I did perhaps say “well, maybe – if it doesn’t rain.
I’m standing all alone in an empty schoolyard, well, all alone except for a little dog. It’s cold. Where is everyone? Anyway, more about that later.
Where do squirrels go in winter? Their legs are really small, so there’s no way they can head all the way to Florida to sit on the beach sipping tiny cocktails, with even tinier paper umbrellas.
I always feel that a place is truly defined by its food because, in the words of Cesar Chavez, “the people who give you their food, give you their heart.”
The words you never want to hear in any section of the hardware store are – “Wow, I haven’t seen one of those for a long time!”