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Walking down Las Ramblas, in a part of Barcelona noted for its scams and street crime against tourists, I saw it coming.
Three nefarious-looking chaps had shown up on my mental radar – two were closing in from one o’clock and ten o’clock, while the third had been tailing us since the Lyceu. In a split second I took inventory of what we were carrying and where, then looked around to assess whether the situation would allow a safe exit from the vicinity, or if more drastic action was necessary.
As the triangle converged to within a few meters, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the guerilla traveller’s preferred weapon of self-defense.
Flat and flimsy, the 3”x4” patch couldn’t very well be thrown or fired at the enemy, but then it didn’t have to be. The stitching on the Maple Leaf reflected the street light from above, sending dagger-like beams at our would-be assailants. They stopped in their tracks, simply in awe of the most revered flag in all the world.
“Sir,” the leader said, “I deeply apologise – we thought you were American. We would never rob or harm Canadians.”
“No, no,” I replied, equaling the humility as any good Canuck would, “I’m sorry to have caused any confusion. We should have put even bigger patches on our backpacks to show everyone where we were from.” And shame on me for even thinking of these people as the ‘enemy’ earlier – Canadians don’t have enemies, they just have people whose lands need peacekeeping.
Declining their offer to buy us coffee at a nearby Starbucks, figuring a contribution to that American bastion of imperialism might somehow make us lesser people, we went on our merry way into the Catalonian night, thankful we could walk the earth without fear simply by the graces of citizenship.
Of course all of the above is bullshit. Except for seeing nefarious-looking individuals on the Ramblas, but even that wasn’t altogether different from, say, Toronto’s Yonge Street.
So why the chip on the shoulder, you’re asking, did Canuck-bashing suddenly become stylish?
The fictional account serves a point, this coming from a transplanted Yank in Canuckistan. (And was it ever out of style?)
My dear cohorts in this land – and granted I may be generalising, so to the couple in Mississauga who eschew the flag and travel with proper luggage, this one’s not about you – love to display the Maple Leaf when abroad. Everywhere you go, from Banjul to Bali, Tierra del Fuego to Thessaloniki, Canadians have a wonderful way of expressing their patriotism. It seems that travelers from Canada are divided into two distinct camps: one who wear a Maple Leaf on their backpacks; and those who opt to sew on the JUMBO-sized flag.
We needn’t ask why – its purpose is to say, “I’m not an American.” And at the end of the day, what could describe Canada better than “we’re not American”?
Well, lots of things, actually. Canada is a land of hard-working, industrious types who have a society built on immigration, ethics, and mutual respect. Canada is a country that devotes precious resources, not only billions of dollars but also human life, to making the world a better place. Canada is a land of extraordinary beauty, with dramatic landscapes and thousands of miles of amazing coastline, as well as vibrant cosmopolitan cities. Now take out “Canada” from each of those sentences and replace it with “The United States”. If you think for a minute that any of it is not applicable, please see me about the homework assignments you’ve missed.
I have nothing against Canada. I live in Canada, work in Canada, pay taxes in Canada (and some in the US), get health care in Canada, and vacation in Canada (especially if you count connections at Pearson or Dorval to destinations abroad).
At the end of the day, however, I am an American living in Canada, a ‘landed immigrant’ by means of marriage to a Canadian. That doesn’t make me any less of an American, and doesn’t make me any better of a person. If I hadn’t been open-minded before coming here to live, being in Canada would not have somehow miraculously enlightened me. Let’s be frank: closed-minded people litter the planet in every corner of every country – even the Great White North.
In fact, a bit of this closed-mindedness has crept into the thinking and lifestyles of these otherwise open-minded, accepting people. Could wearing a Canadian flag really be a deterrent for the woes of travel? Let’s take a look.
Would one be any more likely to be upgraded on the flight or any less likely to have lost luggage? Of course not.
Will pulling out a Canadian passport mean less hassle at immigration or a greater chance to get to know the ‘real’ locals when they see that you’re not American? It’s actually a running joke among non-Canadians about how silly Canadians are for thinking that wearing the flag will make everything all right.
And will those who take advantage of tourists worldwide, from ‘gypsy’ thieves in Europe to the shell game in Manhattan, be any less likely to target you? Money is money, especially with the strengthened exchange rate for Canadians.
Am I saying don’t wear the flag? No. Wear it if you like, whether it’s a fashion or political statement or simply for peace of mind, that’s up to you. But to think that doing so will enhance your travel experience does seem a bit of a stretch.
As for the Americans reading this, my message to you is simple: lose the complex. Yet it may not be the complex that many have come to expect.
We’ve all seen the ‘Ugly American’ here or there, the shmuck who feels entitled to anything and everything by virtue of his citizenship and (alleged) status. Just watch the “Waldorf Salad” episode of Fawlty Towers and you’ll know exactly who I’m talking about. It’s a stereotype, and, like most stereotypes, this one is also based in truth. But stereotypes become exaggerations, and the hyperbole of the American tourist now overshadows the real deal.
The majority of Americans who venture beyond their borders – and granted this number should be much higher at our point in civilization – are an amicable bunch, wanting to experience different cultures, scenery, cuisine, and whatnot. Some carry a backpack and stay in hostels, while others take tours or enjoy five-star accommodations. All in all, they differ little as a lot from their Brit, Canuck, Aussie, German, French, or Italian counterparts.
One needn’t either flaunt his/her citizenship or hide from it.
Seldom do we see the question “where are you from?” asked in any way other than an interrogative*. An honest answer with a neutral tone will more often than not allow for open and enlightening discussion about your respective cultural differences. For Canadians, this is an opportunity to present your country as something other than “we’re not the USA." Americans, meanwhile, can rest assured that most people around the world do a fine job (far better than we usually do) of differentiating between governments and people, and will go out of their way to engage you in conversation that is seldom rooted in anything but curiosity.
Travel is not a state of citizenship but rather a state of mind.
* certain border crossings are exempted from this discussion
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