When I fell in love with Canada

I kind of knew that would happen. Even my dentist said something along the lines of “Caroline, I don’t really know you, but I just came back from Canada, and Vancouver has your DNA written all over it.” Alrighty! But let’s start with the Toronto area for now. One Friday night my friend asked whether I’d fancy a weekend at some of his mates’ cottage by the lake. What? How do people have cottages by the lake? That’s awesome! I even skipped the trip to the Niagara Falls for that. They are a really ‘boring and commercial tourist experience,’ I’ve been told.

But then things went so amazing that I really got into the idea of having my own lake cottage. I would subscribe to all magazines and newspapers I like, even have enough time to read them, swim to the other side of the lake in the mornings and shout at people who try to jump from my cliff. That’s right, my cottage would be built right on a cliff. The one we stayed in certainly did. And we jumped right off it, 10 metres downhill… rather unforgettable. In case I’ll still be blogging at the sweet age of 60-something, you might have to get used to a daily recap of those morning swims, feature reviews of the ‘Cottage Life’ magazine and the dreadful youth that knows no manners. But for now I should better get some photos ready to show my dentist!

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2 responses to When I fell in love with Canada

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