You cannot make this stuff up Exactly a year ago today, I had the most Canadian moment of my life.
Think of a Tim Hortons beavertail, in the shape of a maple leaf, with the icing engraving a hockey stick. Then take a bite out of the treat, and belt out an "Oh yea eh." That was this moment.
And, funny enough, it took place in a Catalunyan city known more for Gaudi than going top shelf and where hockey is a foreign word.
I was living in Paris, was robbed a few weeks prior, and had two weeks of vacation. Naturally, I needed an adventure. I flew from Paris to Rome airport for four nights, then from Rome to Barcelona for three nights.
My time in Barcelona will be some of the craziest three nights of my life. This story is the first chapter in a series of events where I saw amazing architecture, went on a pub crawl/tapas tour, spent the night wandering the streets of Barcelona with--wait for it--a girl from Alberta, had an allergic reaction to nuts, overdosed on medication for said reaction, had extremely vivid hallucinations in the streets due to said overdose, and sleep-talked while freaking out my hostel mates.
I arrived at El-Prat in the afternoon, ready to explore the city. I was also conscious that it was, in fact, the gold medal ice hockey game at the Winter Olympics. Canada was playing Sweden.That entire tournament was real memorable for a guy from an anonymous city like Edmonton. I saw the quarterfinal game between Canada and Finland at the Great Canadian Pub in Paris, watched Canada beat the United States at Scholars Irish Pub in Rome (while getting acquainted with a jaw-droppingly beautiful Montrealaise), and was in Barcelona for the gold medal game.
The weather was amazing, almost no need to wear a jacket. I got to my hostel, which was on ronda Universidad and very close to Plaza Catalunya. Then, off to find somewhere to watch the game.
I stumbled upon George Payne Irish pub, a good 15 minute walk from my hostel. Their sign on the outside was a signal; I had to go in.
Again, how Canadian was this moment? These random people who I'd just sat with at this Irish pub in Barcelona were--wait for it--radio producers at the CBC! Sometimes you cannot make it up. Here I was, a journalist, drinking in Barcelona with producers for Canada's national broadcaster.
The game was surreal. Every intermission, we'd go out for cigarettes, while basking in the Barcelonan sunshine.
Canada-Sweden, gold medal game of Olympic ice hockey.
A moment that stands out was after the second goal. We had some lovely Swedish gals with us, playfully chirping and drinking along. Canada had scored (some lad named Crosby, I believe). Of course, the bar--chalk full of Canadians at this point--went nuts.
One of my new friends had his hand up. I thought it was for a high five, so I put down my beer and struck his hand. In fact, he had a beer in his hand, and wanted to toast. The beer spilled--wait for it--all over the Swedish gals. A champagne shower of sorts.
Canada won, and the bar went insane. It was as if someone had belted out, "Free maple syrup."
We all celebrated, there was a massive Canadian flag someone had brought. Then, as our co-patriots in Russia began singing our song, so did we. We linked arms, all 100+ of us, using what little voices we had left.
The anthem ended, and we all just savoured the glory of it all. A lot of people filtered out. I stuck around, talking to other Canadians about what brought them to Barcelona. Some were there on work, others lived here. Prior to arriving and while at El-Prat, I actually met a man from Edmonton who owned enterprises in Barcelona. The world can be a small, tight-knit place sometimes.
That afternoon will always be special to me. I've been to an awful lot of hockey games and curling rinks and towns with barns and outdoor rinks. And yet, thousands of miles from my home country, I'd never felt like more of a Canadian.
Canada is nowhere close to a perfect country, but that afternoon symbolized why we are still pretty darn good, eh!
A group of a hundred puck-talking, beer-gulping, fun-loving hosers singing Oh Canada in an Irish pub in Barcelona after we won gold in ice hockey.
As the cliché goes, sometimes you really cannot make this stuff up.
