Jamie Broker

I had a wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime experience earlier this summer: I left the United States for the first time!

My best friend and I (we’ve been buddies since our college years) decided we’d take off on a road trip to Niagara Falls. Funnily enough, the most efficient way to get from where we were to our hotel was to go through Canada, so that’s what we did. In fact, we ended up crossing the border multiple times; we wanted to see the Falls from both sides, and we also wanted to investigate several historical sites in the area (we’re nerds).

It’s difficult for me to explain how much this meant to me. Before we made these plans, even up to the moment that we got in line at the border, I genuinely believed that I was going to die without ever setting foot in another country. There wasn’t anything externally huge about it, but the effect of all the little things was moving and powerful: the Canadian customs agent kindly walking me through the process of crossing the border. Signs in French (that pulled no punches on how deadly it was to drive stupidly!). Switching the car’s speedometer to KPH. Calling the bank to tell them I was in out of the country, could they please unlock my card? The $60 in bright Canadian bills that popped out of the ATM once said card was unlocked, and the loonies and two-nies I got in change from Tim Horton’s. And, on the last crossing into Canada, the kind agent who agreed to stamp my passport, even though the stamp technically isn’t necessary.

So now I know for sure: I want to leave the country again! I want to see more skies and more signs in other languages and get different types of change back from my coffee order. I don’t know when or if it will happen again, but damn, am I grateful that it at least happened once.

Thank you, Canada! Maybe someday I’ll see you again.