On the Road 2011 blog #9

If someone had asked me, before this trip started - "who doesn't pick you up?" I would have immediately said "Asians, recent immigrants and families". There have been some exceptions to the bit about families and recent immigrants. By my count in all of my years of hitchhiking, four recent immigrants have offered me drives and only one family who were tourist from Australia have. I would have probably bet money on those rules remaining consistent this trip if I could have found anyone silly enough to take the bet.
 
I crossed the highway at the set of lights, dropped my pack and waited patiently for a friendly driver that hopefully take me out of Manitoba. In particular I have had the odd problem getting out of Brandon the next city down the road. I did not want to be stuck there. Nor did I want this trip to be a series of short drives with long waits in between. As of yet I wasn't exactly stuck in the middle of nowhere. There was a gas station across the road and there was certainly lots of traffic going north up the Yellowhead Highway ( how I love those two words) .... but not a lot going my way west. Maybe I should have gone with Jack... I could have gone all the way to the west coast on that highway and I would have be able to write "Yellowhead highway" a hundred times.

I was at that spot for no more than ten minutes when a van pulled over,a young person got out of the front, helped me load my pack into the back of the van and invited me into the front seat, while he along with a younger and older sister sat in the back seat.They were a Chinese family, who as I later found out had immigrated last November. It is a good thing I never found someone silly enough to take that bet...I would have lost money.

In spite of the fact that they had picked me up to practice their English, there was initially not a lot of conversation. I think they were shy about their language skills. I do not think that they knew what questions to ask. Their young son acted as translator, with me asking him questions, him translating the questions into Chinese, getting the answer and then passing the answer back to me. I was surprised at this in part because every once in a while Dad would answer a question directly to me in fairly clear English. Two small conversations remain in my mind. One was about dandelions. They wanted to know what those nice yellow flowers were in their front yard. It took me some time to make myself clear what they were called. It was my fault. They were having some difficulty pronouncing the word....I separated the word into two syllables. When I said "lion" they got quite animated..... and confuse. Why was I talking abut animals -they were talking about flowers? We eventually got it sorted out. Their real questions seemed to be "why were their neighbours so upset about the beautiful spring flowers?". I suspect me telling them that they could eat the greens and make wine from the flowers will do nothing to make their neighbours happy next spring.

The second topic started of with me asking the father how he was allowed to have three children. I told him that it was my understanding that in China families were only allowed to have one child. They were confused by my questions...where did I get three children from, he only had two. I had mistakenly seen the older female in the back seat as a daughter when in fact she was his wife and the mother of the two kids. I covered my embarrassment by saying she looked far too young to be a mother.It was the truth but the fact that she was in the back seat had strengthened my impression. Their answer when it came was quite simple...in the northern and more rural parts of China two children are frequently allowed

The little girl who had been quiet for much of out ride asked me what I called my facial hair. She knew the word for mustache, but not beard. The all seem to have fun pronouncing the word until they had internalized it. I am not too sure if I would have been so dedicated to learning another language. 

All of a sudden my driver pulled of the road and started down a poorly paved country road. I was surprised to say the least....they had told me they were going to Brandon. I was being abducted by Chinese immigrants! Their son perhaps because he saw the panicked look upon my face quickly explained. They were going to take a few minutes to look at a cafe that the father wanted to buy. It would be charitable to call Austin, Manitoba a one horse town. There was, if I remember rightly a feed store, a small grocery store and a closed cafe. I didn't see the horse but it would have fitted right in. The two parents and their little girl walked around trying to look in the windows while the son stayed with me. His mother was not that keen on them moving to a small town and running  business but the dad thought that it would be a good way of establishing themselves. When I asked what they knew about business, they admitted they knew very little. (Dad was some sort of professional designer in China).



Fairly shortly afterwards they let me out at the east end of Brandon. I wish they had driven me to the west end, but that is being picky. It was not that far to walk and I was very grateful for the ride. They were an amazing family. Canada continues to be blessed with immigrants who chose to come here and who are committed to not only becoming Canadians but as well to contributing to our/their society. I was honoured to have them choose my country to be theirs. I told them so. As they drove away and I started my brief hike down the road I wondered if in five years they will pick up hitchhikers, or whether they will have become so completely Canadian that they too will share the paranoid view that all who are on the road are dangerous.

It would be a shame if they became that Canadian.