I have become quite obsessed with comparing England to Canada and observing the cultural differences between the two. I guess it’s because I feel different from everyone else; I sound different, I dress differently and I don’t fit that in with that “British look”. I feel truly Canadian. The moment I arrived in England, I was astounded that I could tell who was British. And not just by the way they walked or talked, but by how they looked. As I mentioned in my second blog entry, I felt absolutely out of place. I have continued to explore why this is, why I feel so “Canadian” and not just “different”. As I began to think about this more and more, I was reminded of Will Ferguson’s novel Why I Hate Canadians, a part of which I studied in my grade 11 Canadian Literature class. Though I have never been patriotic, or put much thought into what it really means to be a Canadian, I feel like all the stereotypes that define who we are (beavers, Tim Hortons, hockey, etc) are written all over me, as if those are what compose my genetic make-up. Though I can wear the fashionable clothes that are all the rage here and pick up the British lilt, I have come to the realization that I will never actually be able to fit in here completely. The countries we grow up in ultimately define who we are, how we act and what we find socially acceptable. These subconscious social manners and behaviours are what unite countries and citizens together.
In Canada, we pride ourselves to be a very multicultural country made up of all different ethnic races who are all united, who are all “Canadian”. In London there too, are many different people who have come from so many places all over the world. But unlike Canada, all of these groups of people are not united; although they live in the same areas, they shop at shops run by people from their country, they all visit the same places and stay grouped together. Not all people in England consider themselves to be British. I feel that this is different in Canada though. We are all so obsessed (subconsciously I think) with Canadian culture. We are proud to be Canadians, no matter where we originated from. I have to admit, I do feel some of this pride when people comment on my accent; I like feeling different from everyone else, I feel proud to be a Canadian.
It’s strange for me to be thinking about things like this that have never crossed my mind before.
Anyways, there is a sweet shop on the high street that I went into today. The owner was adamant that we were friends, continuing to ask me where I had been until I opened my mouth and told him I was from Canada. Apparently I have a long lost twin that often visits his shop…I don’t think I will be going back there again. After all, you should never accept candy from strange men (okay, I bought the candy obviously but still).
I hope everyone is well! xoxoxo
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