O Canada Part I - The Falls, The Family, and Driving Ms. Laisy

My mom's first reaction upon seeing Niagara Falls from the top was, "If you fall into the water, don't bother swimming.  You're pretty much done."  And they wonder where I get it from.

As you might guess, our first stop in this trip was the world-famous Niagara Falls, Ontario.  I had planned some odd months ago with my mother to set aside a few days to visit the area.  She had wanted to visit, partly out of nostalgia, partly to see my relatives in Toronto, and partly on a whim.  It had been 20 years since my last sojourn out that way, when I was all pigtails and frills,  so I said why not.  Canada is lovely.

Traveling there was not.

Me:  "So, How are we getting there?"
Mom:  "Driving."

…

I live about 800 km away from Toronto.  If I were driving, that would equate to about 8-9 hours.  Driving with my mom puts it at about 11. 

"Victoria, why didn't you just drive, then?" I can hear you ask.

Well, dear readers.  There comes a point in a person's life when she comes to realize that all stereotypes are formed with a single grain of truth, no matter how badly she wishes it weren't so.

My moment came at about the age of 16.

Several months later, he hired an actual instructor.

It's like he was prepping me for the horrors of following in the footsteps of bad Asian driving.  Anyway, from the time I got my license until about age 20, I hated driving with a passion.  I avoided it at all costs, bumming rides when I could, and taking the longest routes to get anywhere, just to avoid busy streets.  In recent years, I've grown out of it, and while I don't love it, I can take to the freeways without gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.

I unfortunately can't say the same for my mother:

I would not call my mother the calmest of drivers.  In almost any other situation, I would take the wheel, but she also has the handicap of not knowing how to use a GPS or being able to give good directions, so I played navigator for the entirety of the trip.  On the one hand, I might have lost a year off my life from sheer anxiety, but on the other hand, it gave me a chance to take some nice pictures from the passenger side window:

And, as much as I make fun of my mom, I was looking forward to a few days off from work to spend a little time with just her.  But after a long drive up to the Falls, and another 3-ish hour jaunt to Toronto, it was finally time to meet my uncle.

"Hang on.  Meet your uncle?"

Yes.  Meet. 

Remember when I mentioned that it had been 20-ish years since my last trip to Canada?  I'm exaggerating a little bit on the "meeting" bit, but I might as well have been.  I have very few memories of most of my relatives, really, and my uncle from Canada is no exception, despite being the closest in distance. 

But, as far as estranged family goes, it was a pleasant "first" encounter.  And, despite some language barriers, we had a nice long chat as we strolled the grounds.

Canadian Geese.  Can't get much more quintessential.

And no - despite living in Canada for nearly 30 years, neither my aunt nor uncle ever dropped the phrase, "Ni hao, ey?" let alone spoke Chinese with a Canadian accent.  Yeah, I'm a bit disappointed, too.

My uncle, or my father's oldest brother, has a bit of an eclectic background.  From what I know, my father's family wasn't exactly wealthy, so my aunts and uncles did what they could to save on money.  My uncle was quite a bright man and ultimately went to college to become a teacher, as degrees in education were paid for by the state.  I think this was a sticking point for awhile, because he had had high enough university entrance exam scores to go a prestigious school for medicine, but didn't want to put the financial strain on my grandparents.  So he stayed in the teaching gig for some time, until at some point, he switched into business.  The details on that are a little fuzzy to me, but he eventually became a rather successful manager of a plastics supplier, traveling between Asia and North America for years until his retirement. 

Apparently that kind of thing runs in the family - you may not always reach that final goal, but do what you can, do it well, and life will be good.

I've heard these little snippets of history from my parents a dozen times, but it's always far more compelling from the original source.  Given that nearly none of my relatives live in the United States, and only a handful live on the same continent, I don't really get that chance often. 

So maybe that's what I hoped to get out of this trip - a chance to connect.  Not just with my mom, but with the people who share my blood and my history. 

Until the next.