CAROLINE'S CORNER: ODESSEY INTO CANADA

This is the first article in a two-part series.Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day in Canada, and I am certain that the citizens of the provinces of British Columbia and Alberta are grateful that two U.S. travelers are no longer wandering in their land.Last month, Cousin Connie (my cousin, adopted sister and soul mate), and I were in northern Idaho on Labor Day weekend and we decided to take a little Thelma and Louise trek into Canada.Canada is clean, there is a $2,000 fine for littering, there must be three million window boxes full of luscious blooming flowers, and the Rockies are magnificent.Our only problem was that we had not planned to go to Canada and we were not thoroughly prepared for the adventure.As we passed through customs, we were asked the usual questions. It is important to note here that Connie and I are from a long ancestral line of relatives who do not know how to answer a question simply and to the point. A family tradition is to expose every skeleton in the closet and each gory detail.The first question was, "Where are you from?" When one is asked that question where we grew up, it means, "Where were you born, where do you live now, and what does your daddy do?""We are from Alabama and Missouri, we were both born in Mississippi, and our daddies are retired from TVA and Coggins and Nabers Furniture Store," we answered. "Do you have any fruit with you?" the agent asked next."We don't have any fruit but we do have 3 1/2 Snickers, a bag of Fritos and part of a sausage biscuit left from breakfast," we answered in unison.The agent carefully explained that the fruit question was due to a fly that the Canadian government did not want brought from the U.S. Those who had fruit with them were required to give it to the customs agent or stand on the border and eat it. He gently explained that we were not required to stand on the border and eat our snacks."Where are you going?" was his next question."We don't know. We are just going to Canada," we replied. "We might try to get to Lake Louise if altitude sickness doesn't affect us.""Do you have any guns, knives or Mace with you?" was his last question. "We don't have any guns, nor do we belong to the NRA. We have one L.L. Bean Swiss army knife. We don't have any Pepper Mace, but we do have one box of black pepper which we bought to give to Aunt Sula with her gift of Idaho potatoes."The agent, thoroughly disconcerted by this time, shrugged his shoulders, shook his head and waved us onward.Had we known that we were going to Canada, we would have brushed up on the metric system. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since we memorized the system in high school, and we found that we had totally forgotten how many meters are in anything.The speed limit was posted in kilometers. Luckily the speedometer of our rental car was marked in kilometers as well as miles, so we traveled happily northward. When we stopped to get gasoline, we found the price posted in liters. Being one who wants to know what she is buying costs, I asked the attendant how many liters are in a gallon."A Canadian gallon or an American gallon?" he asked.I decided to forget the conversion, because it costs what it costs.While Connie pumped the gas, I went inside to pay. "Are you paying in American or Canadian dollars?" the clerk asked.Having forgotten the money thing, we went to a local bank to exchange money. By the time the bank clerk explained the conversion to us, she was the one who was confused, but I understood that if it cost us $20, it didn't really cost us $20.Leaving the bank thoroughly happy because we would be getting a bargain, we drove for miles alongside a crystal clear lake with no overlook. Connie found a not-so-legal place to stop. She drove through a farmer's gate, one-half mile through his pasture, and she stopped and exclaimed, "Let's go!"We ambled along the lake with our own private view. We sat and watched Canada geese and discussed how two southern girls were sitting in a private pasture in British Columbia and who'da thought it would have ever happened to us.I did not want to rain on Connie's parade, but I never felt quite comfortable on our personal observation point. "Connie, if the fine is $2,000 for littering, what do you think it is for trespassing?" I whispered.

Part two of the Odyssey will be printed next week.

We are pleased to announce that Caroline Simpson's "Caroline's Corner" has been added as a regular feature in the Jackson U.S.A. Signal. Her columns and human interest stories appear in other Rust Communications publications.