Culture shock

We went over the border into Canada yesterday. It was exhilirating to finally see the signs and get here. A moment we had been waiting for since we left the beauty of Bryce and started our marathon drives across the mid-west. For the first bit, the sun was shining brighter, the grass grew greener, and the road seemed like it was paved yesterday. I missed the desert, but was excited to see lakes and rivers and dark rock.

Then we got to the cities.

Out of nowhere, I had a strong urge to do a uwie and drive back to the southwest. Back to sparseness and empty highways. Hamilton and Toronto are nice cities for the most part, don't get me wrong, but what's with everyone running around trying to get places and driving like idiots and commuting every day to a job they hate in this humidity? And ten-lane highways? And urban sprawl? And strip malls?? I immediately recognized my unhappy feeling as urban culture shock.

Before we left the station, all my daydreaming about Ottawa revolved around going to exotic restaurants, sitting on patios, going to the movies, and being able to get what you want when you want it... Having seen urban life again and being reminded of its hectic noise and frantic rat-race attitude, my daydreams are mostly about Algonquin Park, friends' cottages, and walks through the Gatineaus. And, more importantly, the possibility of getting out again and returning to dirt roads and fitting in when wearing a cowboy hat. This feeling will likely dissipate when I am reunited with the town and people I love, but for now my car is pointed east, but my soul wants to go south.