Canada, Oh Canada
On the long cross-country flights to and from California, I read The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. (I allowed myself to give up digesting the drivel of the Dirty Girls Social Club.) Two thumbs up for this enchanting tale based in Canada.
I’ve traveled to Toronto and Montreal. I long to explore New Foundland and Vancouver. But once my nationality is revealed (Gasp, she’s an American), the conversation always relapses into cliche.
I went to my cousin’s wedding a few years ago and made quite a few new friends during my sojourn in Ontario. In the course of conversations they wanted to know why Americans don’t take more of an interest in the Canadian way of life? After all, they learn about the political system in the United States. In school, they’re taught American history, and sometimes know it better than their counterparts across the border.
Americans are ignorant, self-centered oafs.
Of course, the stereotypes flow both ways. Canadians are slow, unsophisticated, American wanna-bes.
Why can’t we all just get along?
Jeff Dvorkin, formerly managing editor of CBC Radio News and Information, currently with NPR has this to say about the Canadian ABC reporter who broadcast a story from Iraq that “infuriated” the Bush administration.
White House officials scrambled to find the best way to hit back, says the NPR ombudsman.
Should a reporter’s nationality matter? Does it matter?