My Canadian Working Holiday experience – PART 1 – Departure
Into your luggage, then, must go the excitement of discovering a new country, the experience of immigration, separation from family and friends, joy, the pain of leaving your city, the irrational fear of flying, and a few clothes.
Then fly far from your Mediterranean cradle.
Nice the beautiful is now far behind me. I fly towards new landscapes. Having already travelled to Canada, but to its French-speaking part, I have a bond with this country that reaches back into the unconscious of childhood.
My first trips to Canada were part of my dreams. I imagined this place as my own country. Having been born under the sun of Nice, nobody really understood why I was drawn to a country that seemed to embody the most extreme cold. Even today, many Canadians do not understand what I am doing here; Nice seems more idyllic to them than Vancouver.
Yet after a first smiling, cordial exchange,
we manage to agree on one point! Vancouver has no reason to blush beside Nice. The two cities have a great deal in common. If it is not the 300 days of sunshine a year, then what is it?
Chapter 1
Between sea and mountains
Just as in Nice, opportunities for outdoor outings are many and varied in Vancouver. The panoramas are breathtaking and life is gentle and warm. Many visitors arriving in Nice are unaware of the beauty of the Mercantour National Park and the proximity of the ski slopes just as in Vancouver.
In less than an hour and a half, you can leave the sunshine for the snow. The ski areas are not as huge as Whistler, but you can vary the resorts in the Mercantour and the Alpes-Maritimes, to broaden your experience of skiing on the Côte d’Azur.
My twin nieces and my nephew in Valberg in 2015 enjoyed abundant snow with my brother and me, with nothing to envy in the largest ski areas on the planet. The only difference from Whistler may be the day ski pass for less than 35 euros. So do not miss out if you visit the Côte d’Azur in winter.
Having to leave Nice for my new Canadian life, however, I will talk again about Nice and its many similarities with Vancouver from time to time, like pinpricks of nostalgia entering my dream come true. Here I have arrived in:
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.
With my Canadian Working Holiday visa freshly issued, here I am following in the footsteps of the Haida and other First Nations, the first settlers and other modern adventurers, letting myself be charmed by this intriguing place, rich in diverse and restful atmospheres. That grandiose landscape between sea and mountains helps.
Discovering local Indigenous art, other similarities with my hometown leap out at me. The red and black colours used, sometimes the representation of an eagle standing proudly on its legs, its chest puffed out.
If the colours of our Nice football club are
red and black, I also learn that the sport is as popular here as it is at home. We see the signs we want to see, but this anchors my steps in a certain visual comfort.
One thing is certain: the art of the Haida First Nation bewitches and fascinates me. Though taken up by many in the region, I must admit that only a visit to Haida lands could offer me the happiness fulfilled by meeting these people.
“I hope that my future sailboat can proudly display the colours of the Haida. Other elements will also allow my boat to pay a triumphant tribute to my hometown. Without revealing everything here, you can discover a few clues on this page: ANITA.”
Let us return to my arrival in Vancouver. I arrived alone, like an explorer on reconnaissance, searching for my eldorado, my lair and my future.
The city of Vancouver first invited me to admire English Bay. Another sign, with the Promenade des Anglais in Nice?
Without a second thought, I put on my roller-skates and twist my way at speed along this magnificent bay, with a view of the Pacific at my feet, snow-covered mountains and cargo ships neatly lined up.
Sunsets here are popular. In fine weather, people let themselves be intoxicated by the spectacle and settle on the beach as in a cinema. When everyone is seated, the film begins, delivering a different scenario each day. That day, I will call the film “Between Dog and Wolf”*.
*At dusk, the French expression “entre chien et loup”
Twilight surrounded the silhouettes there that day. I did not say a word, and at no point did I feel alone, despite the presence of very closed groups, laughing at bursts of words I did not yet understand.
Granville Island
The next day, I discovered Granville Island. A space of disconcerting intelligence. If our French politicians and architects could take inspiration from places like this, tons of ugly places could become charming and useful to the urban community, creating jobs and life where there is little, or none left.
Granville Island deserves more than one chapter among many others. It must also open part 2 of my journey.
Part 2 (in preparation)
English 
French
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