The Ryndex

There are so many reasons why Canada is better than France.

For example, I went to go get my driver’s license renewed. I walked into the license centre, and there was a woman at a desk who looked straight at me and said “Hello, can I help you?”

I didn’t have any supporting documentation but my BC driver’s license and my passport. I explained that I had moved to France, but my permanent address is in Alberta. She said, “OK!” and typed for a second, confirmed my last Alberta address, took my photo and $67 dollars and gave me my temporary license. My new license will be arriving in the mail in two weeks.

She didn’t ask for any passport photos or medical certificates, and she didn’t tell my that I couldn’t have what I needed because I didn’t have the right supporting documentation. I didn’t need to go through a security airlock, or face a dark oak door with the sign “DO NOT KNOCK.”

Then I went to the mall. We have stuff in Canada — good stuff. Of course, material goods aren’t the most important thing in life, unless one day you decide that you want a pepper mill or spatula. It’s insanely inexpensive in Europe, and then you don’t have anywhere to put it (present company excluded, and I’m alone right now).

I started crossing the street by the co-op, and a pickup truck stopped for me three lanes away.

The co-op has such nice, wide aisles. It’s so clean. In Europe, I typically do my grocery shopping in a basement. Except for bread, of course. But even the bread in Canada is kind of nifty — rows and rows of plastic wrapped spongy white bread.

I went to a Vietnamese restaurant in downtown Medicine Hat. It was easy to park.