my dad has come to visit me in canada. it's great having him here. but it's also interesting.

we went to niagara falls today, the canadian side. as he was walking back to my car in the parking lot, he was talking on his cell phone. he didn't realize it, but he was walking in the middle of the street. a man in a minivan came up behind him, and tapped his horn to get my dad to move. later, when we were driving away, he said 'he wasn't happy about me walking there...well, he was a foreigner'. huh? hello, dad, one: we are in canada. my car has california plates. his car had ontario plates. meaning: we were more foreign than he was. two: everyone in canada is FROM somewhere, it seems...i've never heard anyone here use that term. plus, when does darker skin make you a foreigner?

he has seven (yup, 7. ridiculous) cars in california. the one he takes on long road trip vacations is a pontiac transport minivan. car looks like a dustbuster. he loves it - it's plastic, so he doesn't get door dings. honestly, the sole reason he still has that car is they don't make them in plastic anymore. god forbid you get a door ding. (he'd never survive with a car in argentina...) in california, land o' the new (bigger, bigger, bigger) car, nobody drives them anymore. here in canada, everyone has them. they're plastic, they don't rust. plus, people in canada seem to hang on to their cars for much longer than in california. he is amazed at how many there are around here...it's a miracle! people keep their cars more than 2 years! on top of that, i told him many houses only have one garage. if that. he'd never survive. i still think one day i will go to visit him and my old bedroom will be turned into the 4th and 5th car garages!

i think some people were just meant to be some places, and he was meant to be a southern californian. i hope i'm finally getting him to understand why i am *not*.

i just started reading bill bryson's 'notes from a big country'. hilarious. funny how different america looks from the outside. even when the outside is just 2 hours over the border. (i always told my family i lived 'just over the border', which i consider two hours to be...when they came to visit they said, 'but i thought you lived 'just over' the border. it's over 100 miles away!'

um, yeah. that's close enough for me!!