I am a poor ambassador for Saskatchewan.
Even after living in the Prairies for over a year, I’m hardly an expert on western Canadian life. I’ve explored a fraction of Saskatchewan, only experiencing a small portion of what this province has to offer. Locals still have to explain customs and traditions to me. I’m hardly anyone’s idea of a Saskatchewan spokesman.
But, nonetheless, I found myself in the position of Prairie ambassador last week. I didn’t exactly rise to the occasion.
I didn’t plan on being an ambassador. I visited my home province last week to eat cheap donairs, swim in the ocean, and sweat profusely in the humid temperature. I wasn’t expecting to represent Saskatchewan; it just turned out that way.
During my stay in Nova Scotia (the greatest Maritime province, don’t even try to debate me), I met with several East Coast friends. Our conversations sprawled from college memories to political debates to discussions over the necessity of Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again. Inevitably, all conversations led to my adopted province of Saskatchewan. My Atlantic Ocean-bound friends wanted to know what life was like out west.
I tried my best, I really did. I tried to explain Saskatchewan without using Corner Gas analogies. I tried to paint a picture of life in the Prairies. I’m pretty sure I failed.
My description of the infinite stretch of highways and farms were meant to evoke images of imposing silos and dazzling horizons. Based on my friends’ reactions, I think I made Saskatchewn sound like a nightmarishly flat wasteland.
But worst of all, my greatest ambassadorial sin, I failed to properly describe the wonders of taco in a bag. Out east, it’s rare to find someone filling a Doritos bag full of delicious meat. My friends were incredulous when I described the dish. I couldn’t persuade them to see the ingenuity behind stuffing a bag with taco ingredients. I failed as a Saskatchewan ambassador.
Of course, I’m not much better as a Nova Scotia ambassador. During my stay in the Prairies, I’ve yet to fully convince anyone that the donair is the greatest culinary achievement in the history of mankind (no hyperbole). I’ve also failed to make my case that poutine can only truly exist on the East Coast. I’ve let my home province down.
So, if you need someone to represent your culture and customs, I would recommend anybody but me. However, if you need someone to pedantically debate movie trivia, I’m your man.