the true north, strong and free.

O.k. Here it is. My home away from home for the last 3 weeks. The Maple Leaf. Yes, sometimes I wonder if they hired me because of my resume or if it was simply because I was Canadian – but what does it matter? A job is a job. A home is a home. Since I don’t have a “home” to call my own at this point in time, The Maple Leaf is the closest thing. I work a lot, yes, but I feel like since I’ve been working there, I’m part of something.

The worst thing about moving to London has been this overwhelming feeling that I am nothing in the middle of this busy and crowded city. A feeling that I don’t really belong here. I’m not British (despite the fact my UK passport says I am – I AM CANADIAN, and very proud to be!) I don’t know the areas of London, I have yet to visit in infamous Camden Town Markets or Brick Lane. I’m still learning the Tube (although, getting quite good), have no idea which night bus to catch home to the hostel after work and ask for directions at least once a day.

Maybe it’s the fact that all of the girls behind the bar are Canadians (except for one, who’s from NY) but I’ve met a group of people who I can generally relate to and who have been where I am. Not only do we relate on a level that we share the same pride for our home country, but they’ve been through the hostel life, looking for a job, looking for a flat… I find myself wanting to go there, even on my days off.  

Today was a long day. I worked a double shift (lunch shift until close at 10:30 pm on a Sunday night). Usually, on a Sunday, I am engrossed in the “football” – I’m trying my very hardest to get into it … and my boss has threatened my job if I don’t cheer for Chelsea. I don’t know the rules of football, nor do I know the teams…I just know that Englishmen don’t take their eyes off the screen, even while trying to hand them a pint over the bar.

Tonight though, I looked around and the Leaf Game was on. I can honestly say, I almost cried. I sat down for my hour break and watched the game. I haven’t “watched the game” in what feels like forever… and there is nothing better then watching your team play with a bunch of Englishmen. They really have no idea when it comes to hockey… “Where’s the bloody puck?!” “Are there any rules to this game, at all? They just hammer each other?” It’s refreshing to feel like I know what’s going on in a city of constant "moving and shaking" resulting in a constant feeling of uncertainty. 

Although it doesn't happen too often, it being London and all, but tonight we had a group of Canadians in. When a Canadian walks into the Maple Leaf, you can almost feel them relax. The hockey commentary on in the background, with a pint of Sleeman in hand and an order of poutine on the way, what could be a better way to spend an afternoon? Right now, I fail to think of one.

So yes, I am Canadian. Yes. I am from "Taaarrrroonnto" and yes, when I tell people that, they almost ALWAYS mimic my accent (yes, apparently, I have an accent)

So, if you're in the area (and I hope most of you who know me, will someday visit me in my new city) drop in and "watch the game" with me.

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