In case you hadn’t yet noticed, I’m now living in Toronto. I can’t stop talking about how much I love it here and feel like the ultimate “smug married” and don’t even care. Last week had the first day this year that it felt like Spring had truly sprung. The sun was shining. The sky was bright blue. The playground was dry and Tim’s Iced Capps* were sweet. After school we hung out all afternoon in the park, enjoying the Vitamin D top up and the relief of the changing of the seasons.
On the way home, I called to my kids to pay attention when the lights changed and it was time to cross the street. Now anyone familiar with road traffic signals in Europe will know that on pedestrian crossings we have a red man for stop and green man for walk. In Canada it’s a red hand for stop and a white man for walk. In England when it’s time to cross the street I, like many other mothers, would say, “come on kids, it’s the green man, time to cross the road”. On more than one occasion since hopping the pond I’ve heard myself say “come on kids, there’s the WHITE man, time to cross the street”. Now you see my dilemma.
And every time I say it I tell myself not to and yet that seems to make the situation worse. If anyone around us has overheard this then they’ve not said anything. Canadians are generally way too polite for that. The last few weeks have demonstrated just how far you have to go to trigger Canadians en masse. But my mind burrows down into catacombs of terrible scenarios where I have to reassure a passing stranger that I’m not purposely putting traffic between him and my children. Where there’s a WTF moment where I have to start googling images of British pedestrian crossings to reassure someone I meant green man not white man but we are in Canada now so it is in fact a white man.
I actually think the white man is a good idea. It differentiates the green light for the traffic from the green light for the pedestrians. It’s a very small thing but it represents what I’ve enjoyed about the transition to Canadian life. Even the things that are different make sense. Now I just have to work out how to stop yelling “look – white man, let’s go!” in public.
*Tim Horton’s Frozen Coffee… see how fucking Canadian I am now
