Farewell to Nova Scotia

My snowman and me.  My hat fits him perfectly!

 It's hard having to say goodbye, but Belén was expecting me in Spain, and all too soon it was time to say goodbye.  I had a lovely time rearranging the crèche with Léo every day (he likes to drive Baby Jesus around in his firetruck); learning to sing Feliz Navidad with Léo's papa, Edwin (because he's from Ecuador, he can sing Christmas carols in Spanish and Kichwa); and reading more Christmas stories with them both while Nadine went out to play soccer. 

We played outside, too.  One day Léo and I made snowmen in the backyard.  I couldn't find a hat that fit my snowman, so I gave him mine.  He was rocking my hat, so I decided to let him keep it for a while.

I was really, really sorry that I'd let him keep that hat when Nadine and I went out the next morning to visit Nadine's Mi'kmaq friends on land held by the Eskasoni First Nation.  They live by the Bras d'Or Lakes, which are much saltier than our lakes.  I couldn't understand what Nadine meant until I tasted the water.  It really does taste salty!  She says that the ocean tastes even saltier, and that the Bras d'Or lakes are salty because the ocean water got into the lakes.

My peaked cap keeps me toasty warm beside Bras d'Or.

The wind was absolutely frigid when we started our walk.  I so wished that I haven't left my toasty hat behind.  Luckily, a Mi'kmaq elder came out of her house to say that she had a present for me.  It was a cozy hat, lined with red flannel and toasty warm.  The Mi'kmaq people used to wear these all the time (now most of them wear toques in the winter unless it's a special occasion).  She said that it would remind me of the First Peoples of Nova Scotia, and that perhaps I could come back in the summer and learn more about their culture. 

I asked her whether she wore hats like this when she was a little girl, and she said that yes, she had.  She didn't grow up here, though.  When she was a little girl she lived in a different part of Nova Scotia.  The government made all the Mi'kmaq people in the area move to this reserve.  After her parents left, an Indian Agent burned down their house so that they couldn't go home.  I wish I could go back in time and fix things so that they didn't have to leave their home.

Our visit had certainly given me new things to think of.  I thought that people on Cape Breton Island were just Canadian, but they speak English and French and Gaelic and Mi'kmaq and they wear kilts and jingle dresses and eat pizza and pickled herring.  Edwin speaks Spanish (he taught me how to say "Buenos días" so that I could surprise Belén).  I even heard a language called Punjabi in the  Farmers' Market.  People seem to come to Cape Breton from all over the world.  Hmmm ... maybe doing things differently and sharing that with each other is what it means to be just Canadian. 

Memere and Pepere taught me a song called "Farewell to Nova Scotia" before Nadine, Edwin and Léo took me to the airport.  You can listen to it here.  I'm going to sing it to myself over and over again on the plane on the way to Spain. 

Now I'm leaving Canada behind, and not just Ontario.  Here I come, world!

love,
Katie