Beyond the Icy Curtain

The Canadian National Symbol

The U.S./Canadian Border Checkpoint

The Canadian Flag

It was a cool day in November of 2001 when my friend Clay and I decided to travel from the American industrial city of Buffalo to the mysterious country to our north--The People's Republic of Canada. It's a short drive from Clay's abode near the Buffalo Zoo to the border with Canada. Much to our chagrin, the line of vehicles to get into the country was long and moving slower than warm Nutella. As we slowly crept forward, we strained our necks attempting to discern what the holdup could possibly be. Had someone tried to smuggle Western goods in? Bibles? Firearms? Eventually, after an eternity of 5-10 minutes, we reached the border. The guard waved us to a stop as Clay rolled down his driver's side window. Much to my surprise, the guard was a shapely and attractive woman--the opposite of what popular American media has lead us to believe the typical Canadian woman looks like, which is fat and ugly with a thin mustache and hairy legs. But then again, if Russia can produce Anna Kournikova, then why couldn't there be attractive Canadians? She began to question us:

"Where are you traveling to, eh?"
"Niagara then on to Toronto," replied my friend.
"What is the duration of your stay in the Republic, eh?"
"Don't know, yet," said Clay, as we hadn't decided on how long we wanted to stay in Toronto.
"One day, no longer, eh," replied the guard, making the decision for us, "Are you bringing any of the following into the Republic, eh?"

She then began to recite a long list of banned goods--a list no doubt burned in her mind from countless repetition to would-be visitors to "The Republic", as she curiously put it. The list--as far as we could recollect later--went something like this:

Firearms
Cocaine or its derivatives
Opiates
BC Headache Powder
Pornography
Religious tracts, including, but not limited to: The Bible, Book of Mormon, the Talmud, Koran, Dianetics, the Torah
Pre-recorded videotapes, audiotapes, CDs or DVDs that we were intending to giveaway or sell
Fruits, vegetables or other plants
Wildlife
Breakfast cereals
Computer software
Any other items which could possibly go against the ideals of the People's Republic of Canada

All the while she was questioning Clay, I was watching her, entranced by her beauty. I had to get a picture of her to prove to my friends and relatives that there were indeed attractive Canadians. I removed my camera from its bag at my feet and began to bring it up to my eye when she interrupted herself--

"No photos of government personnel, or I will be forced to drag you from the vehicle and wrestle you to the ground," she stated.
While normally I wouldn't have had a problem with a beautiful girl wrestling me to the ground, I thought that it would be best if it wasn't a Canadian border guard--I'd heard horror stories of their prisons here--soft, comfortable beds, three good meals per day and no sodomy--the exact opposite of what I look for when I'm incarcerated. I put the camera away, saddened that my only memory of her would be just that--a memory, growing fuzzier and dimmer by the day. Satisfied that we weren't a threat to the national security of Canada, she finally waved us through the checkpoint. We were finally in Canada--finally beyond the Icy Curtain.

Much to our surprise, the ground wasn't covered with the permanent snow and ice that we'd been led to believe were constant factors of the Canadian environment--after all, all American schoolchildren are taught that all of Canada is tundra and glacier, but apparently this is wrong--we were to later find out that the tundra doesn't begin until about 15 miles north of Toronto and that everything south of that was only seasonally covered by ice and snow.
Our first stop was Niagara Falls--a massive public works project and tourist area on the Niagara River along the border with the States. These magnificent falls were built in 1934 to prevent American ships from freely traversing the river to various inland U.S. ports and instead forced the ships to take canals through Canada where they are made to pay massive tolls and where their cargos are routinely searched and seized by crack Canadian Navy commandos. Unfortunately, the average Canadian citizen is unaware that the Falls are man-made, for the Canadian government's propaganda machine is so efficient and effective that nearly all Canadians (and quite a few Americans, for that matter). are convinced that these waterfalls are natural phenomena. The effectiveness of this propaganda machine is quite amazing--much like in Korea, where the people believe that the Great Leader Kim Il Sung invented the automobile, went to the moon and so forth, the Canadian people are led to believe that the Glorious Dictator Jean Chretien invented the airplane, beer, the toaster and so on, ad infintum--forgetting that it wasn't too long ago that they were collectively believing that the previous dictator
Brian Mulroney had himself done all these things.

We parked Clay's Nissan Sentra--a car that is rarely seen in Canada--in a government controlled parking lot near the Falls. As we hadn't exchanged any of our dollars for Canadian currency, we were forced to make payment with our own U.S. monies. This was fine with the official in charge of the lot, as he seemed eager for hard currency--no doubt this made it into his pocket rather than the governments coffers. By the time we'd parked and put our jackets on, the Sentra had attracted much attention from passerbys, no doubt amazed at the advanced technology and design of the Japanese import. This must be what it's like to drive a Lamborghini in America on a daily basis--oohs and ahhs from the masses at your wondrous conveyance.

Our first stop in Niagara was the Skylon Tower--a tall building overlooking the Falls that is a former factory and testing center for Skylon B nerve gas, which the Canadian government has used against its enemies in the past. No doubt that the inspiration for this chemical weapon was the Nazi's Zyklon B gas used against the Jews during the Holocaust. Much to our chagrin, no cameras were allowed inside the building, so we were forced to check our's with the guard at the entrance--almost certain that they wouldn't be there when we returned to retrieve them. The museum was minimalist at best. Exhibits consisted of old gas masks and hazardous chemical suits, along with a large model of a molecule that was said to be a Skylon B
molecule, but for all we know could've been something completely different. About the only interesting thing that we learned in the museum is that the top of the tower is ringed with large nozzles for dispersing the gas. This is in case war were to ever break out with the U.S., the Canadians could release the gas and hope that most of it would drift across the border into the States, killing Americans and giving Canada a minor victory.

After leaving the Skylon tower, we made our way down to the Falls. They are truly magnificent and the sound of millions of gallons (or, since the Canadians use the bizarre système métrique, cubic meters) of water per second pouring over the lip into the chasm below is astounding. Yet at the same time, it's hard to shake from my educated mind that these are artificial and that they seem somewhat contrived--like the giant squid in the submarine ride at Disney World or Pamela Anderson's breasts.

We then walked up the hill into the town of Niagara proper--it was still morning and we hadn't had anything to eat since the night before. We soon found a restaurant called "Roi d'Hamburger", which seemed to be a ripoff of Burger King. Since it at least seemed familiar, we decided to eat there. A sign above the counter invited us to try their poutine, which sounded dirty but turned out to actually be a rather repulsive dish made with fried potatoes, gravy and cheese curds. We passed on this and settled on sausage biscuits with egg sandwiches, which at least seemed familiar to our American palates. The clerk rang me up and told me the total was 5.21. I absentmindedly handed him a $20 in U.S. currency and was surprised when he told me my change was 25--how could I be getting back more than I'd given? My excitement was dashed when he gave me my change in Canadian currency--multicolored and festooned with pictures of famous dictators and generals. We proceeded to eat, but our food was cold and bland--apparently the way that Canadians prefer their comestibles.

After eating breakfast, we decided to wander around the area. Everywhere we went, we saw this symbol of a face:

We asked a helpful Canadian what it was and they responded that it was the symbol of Canadian nationalism and was to remind the People that the government was ever-watchful--kind of an Orwellian "Big Brother" from what I gathered. We also found a Hard Rock Cafe--the first behind the Icy Curtain. I later read that it was heavily-regulated by the government to ensure appropriate blandness to the food and that it only featured memorabilia from Canadian musicians. Peering into the windows, it looked like it was mostly stuff from artists with odd (to me) Canadian names: Alanis Morrisette, Shania Twain and Bryan Adams. We visited a few gift shops--their shelves stocked with Canadian goods such as moose antlers, hockey pucks (hockey is a strange Canadian sport played on ice in which players bat around a hard rubber disc with sticks), and maple syrup.

Finally, we decided to move on to Toronto, having grown tired of Niagara. We left the town in Clay's Nissan and hit the only highway in the region: the Queen Elizabeth Way. The Queen Elizabeth Way is analogous to an United States Interstate Highway--divided and well-kept. Built in the 1960s, it is named for the monarch of Canada who's now in exile in Great Britain. At first I thought it was odd that they would name something after an exiled monarch, but I later learned that it was named so to be a constant reminder of how wretched Canada was under her rule so that the people may never want royalty again. QEW follows the shore of Lake Ontario, taking travelers through manufacturing towns such as Hamilton, Burlington and Mississauga. The chief industry in these towns seems to be dirt farming. Dirt is the chief natural resource of Canada and is used in construction, manufacturing and for food. It is gathered in huge open strip mines, which scrape the dirt from the surface down to the permafrost. It is then refined and shipped to customers all over Canada. A large portion is loaded onto ships and sold to dirt-deficient countries such as Norway and Sweden. Some is also sent to various Middle Eastern countries whose loose, dry sand doesn't have the same traits as dirt. Following the shoreline of the lake around towards Toronto, we are amazed at how deserted the road is, but then it occurs to us that the average Canadian doesn't own a car and the waiting list for one is several years long. The cars that we do see are typically Canadian-small, poorly-made with their headlights permanently on.

After a couple of hours, the skyline of Toronto looms in the distance. 4.3 million people call Toronto home--almost all of Canada's population. The skyline is dominated by the 1800 ft. tall CN Tower, which rises in the center of the city near the lake shore. As we get closer, we can see the Toronto Skydome at the base of the Tower. We decide that we want to inspect the Tower closeup, so we find a public parking area nearby and leave the Sentra. The Tower is a short 1/4 mile walk from our car and up close it is truly amazing. A kiosk run by the propaganda agency at the base of the Tower gives us more information. It was built in the 1970s as a symbol of the Great Republic and the prowess of the Canadian people. The Canadians claim that it is the tallest structure in the world, but I have my doubts--surely there are taller buildings elsewhere. We are informed that for a small fee, we can ride an elevator
to the top, where there is an observation area and a restaurant. Since the fee is a mere pittance to us rich Americans, we pay and soon find ourselves in a rickety elevator slowly making our way to the pinnacle of the Tower. The tour guide--a dark-haired Canadian with a thick accent, informs us that the elevator is one of the few in the entire country and is powered by three mooses walking on a turntable in the basement of the Tower. He is proud of this fact--the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the Canadian people knows no bounds, at least in his mind.

The view from the main observation deck of the Tower is breathtaking. On a clear day, you could supposedly see New York's World Trade Center--or at least your could before the terrorist attacks. All we see is the Greater Toronto Area and the never-ending expanse of Lake Ontario, which is impressive in its own right. Below us is the retractable-roofed Skydome, which is used for sporting events and political rallies. We can also see the Air Canada Centre nearby, which is apparently the headquarters for the national airline of Canada, but at the same time, we were told that they play hockey there. This confused us, but Clay and I concluded that it was just misinformation spread by the government to perplex the citizenry and any invading armies, much like North Korea's capital, Pyongyang, not having any street signs in an effort to baffle South Korea if they should ever invade. We checked out the glass
floor, which is a section of the main observation deck that has thick glass instead of a metal floor and you can look straight down the Tower 1150 ft. to the ground below--it was kind of scary, especially after experiencing the questionable elevator ride to this point. We then ascended another few hundred feet to the 1450 ft. level to what is called the Skypod. This serves both as a tourist attraction and as an observation center for the ever-present Canadian military. Rumor also has it that it is also a launch tower for ICBMs, but I saw no evidence of this, though it is apparent that it is used to broadcast propaganda to Canadians and the U.S., much like Radio Habana in Cuba. Having tired from viewing the tenements and skyscrapers of Toronto, we descended down the scary elevator to the ground.

View from Skypod towards ground (notice main observation deck a few hundred feet down)

We considered what to do next. We'd been told that the center of hubbub in Toronto was Queen Street, only a few city blocks from the Tower area. We got our bearings and began to walk towards Queen Street. The streets were filled with people going about their daily lives and seemingly indifferent to the oppression and tyranny that they live under--unknowing of the land of opportunity and freedom only a short way to the south, past the frontier. Perhaps the Canadian propaganda machine really does work. Or maybe the Canadian people are just too ignorant and stupid to know better. We thought about taking the streetcar, but it looked poorly-maintained and over-crowded. It was of an Eastern-European design, no doubt a castoff
from Prague or Krakow, bought cheap and repainted by the Canadian government.

It was a good thing that we didn't take the street car to Queen Street, otherwise we would've missed an interesting find on the sidewalk: An inlaid star honoring William Shatner. The name probably seems familiar becaue he was the star of the 1960s TV series "Star Trek". He's one of the few Canadians well-known outside of the Icy Curtain and the story behind "Star Trek" is an interesting one, which I'll summarize here:
It was the mid-Sixties and America was in a Space Race with the Soviet Union. Both were vying to be the first to the moon. Word of this Space Race leaked into Canada and the people were intrigued. The government soon became worried that the people would lose faith in the Republic since the Republic was apparently not trying to reach space. As funding and resources for a space program was non-existant, it was decided to make a series of films about the Canadian Space Program to show the people that Canada was even more technologically advanced than the Americans or Soviets. Thus, "Star Trek" was created as a series of "documentaries" about the Canadian efforts in space, centering around the life of the dashing Captain William Shatner. Shatner and the other cast and crew took a vow of secrecy, but his fellow Canadians would never know that the whole thing was fake and that there was no "Captain" Shatner, or Enterprise, or Tribbles or Klingons--they were convinced that it was real. Seeing a chance for revenue, the Canadian government packaged the show overseas and in the U.S. as a sci-fi adventure series, where the people knew that it wasn't real. Outside Canada, the Shatner character was named Kirk and certain scenes had to be re-filmed to maintain the continuity of the Kirk character rather than Shatner. To this day, Canadians are convinced that their space program is wide-ranging and has contacts with several other alien species and can fly their starships faster than the speed of light, while the Americans and Russians must be content with just an orbitting space station that doesn't go
anywhere.

We continued on to Queen Street, where we encountered the MuchMusic studios. Since MTV is banned in Canada because of its "corrupting Western influences", the government set up MuchMusic to quell the demand for a 24 hour music video network. Only Canadian music videos are played and there are strict guidelines for their content. Next to the MuchMusic studios is the ChumCity building. Chum, while sounding funny, is the biggest propaganda broadcaster in Canada, broadcasting on both TV and radio. The programming is mostly boring, consisting of political speeches, hockey games and manufacturing reports ("Prime dirt production was up 3.9% for the month of August while tractor production was down 1.34%..." and so forth).

We were beginning to grow hungry, so we found a small cafe that claimed to server American-style food, which was welcome news to us. We didn't want to try native Canadian foods after being repulsed by the poutine earlier in the day. I ordered the chicken sandwich with a side of french fries with the dirt on the side while Clay ordered a steak, dirt also on the side. Our beverage was a strange brew called Molson, which is apparently the national drink of Canada. The Greeks have ouzo, the Russians have vodka and Canadians have Molson. It's an unremarkable beer-like beverage with a decent alcohol content. As it was the middle of the afternoon and the restaurant was deserted, we began to converse with out waitress. She told us her name was Sue Ellen.

"Sue Ellen?" I asked, "That's a Western name...where'd you get it?"
"My parents used to watch Dallas and liked the name. I suppose if I'd been a boy, they'd have named me J.R., eh?"
"They showed Dallas in Canada?" asked Clay.
"Yeah," Sue Ellen replied, "They still do. It shows us the corruption and unnecessary opulence that you Americans must suffer through."
Clay and I both laughed.
"Dallas is hardly true to life," I state.
"Sure it is," replied Sue Ellen, "it's a documentary about Americans and the corrupt capitalist system."

It's obvious that the government has passed off Dallas as a documentary much the same way they did for Star Trek. One can only assume that they've done the same with Dynasty and Knot's Landing. Perhaps even Sesame Street--maybe Canadians are told giant mutant talking yellow birds wander our streets.

The waitress brought out our salads, which are coated in an unidentified dressing that is too sweet to consume. It tastes like Italian dressing infused with a bunch of sugar. The Canadians must like their food sweet--an idea that is confirmed later when I dip my fries in the ketchup and am instantly sickened by it's sweetness. It's a good thing Canada has nationalized healthcare, otherwise most people would be wandering around with a mouthful of rotten teeth.

After our meal, which only cost us around $12 U.S., we check out some of the shops in the area. Most sell odd and ends, such as hardware, pharmaceuticals and tobacco, but there are a lot that specialize in garment needs. Apparently, most Canadians are forced to make their own clothes as there isn't really a Canadian fashion industry and Western styles are frowned upon. We also encounter a lot of people living on the streets--no doubt finding it better than living in the depressing high-rise housing projects and tenements of Toronto. Soon, it is time to head back to the States. We are more than ready to get back to the land of the free and home of the brave. Our nighttime trip to the border is long and boring, our only company a box of donuts and Chum Radio, announcing the latest agriculture reports and shoe production. The lights of the border welcome us, and we are heartened to see a giant Old Glory flying above the border checkpoint on the U.S. side. We are back in America. Back home. Back where we belong.