CBC Global Header Navigation

 
CBCnews
EMAIL | PRINT | REPORT TYPO | SEND YOUR FEEDBACK | Bookmark and Share

Maple leaf on backpack: A Canadian tourist finds it's best to leave it at home

Submitted by Andrew Unger

AndrewUnger.jpg

About/Bio: I'm a resident of Steinbach, Man. and I went to Europe this summer. While abroad I discovered that it's best to leave the Maple Leaf at home.

My take: Before venturing off to Europe this summer, my wife and I laboriously stitched red Maple Leaves onto our backpacks, having fallen under the spell of a Tim Horton's commercial we had just seen. Back home in Canada, flag touting is rather rare, but Canadian travellers, however, are somehow transformed into consummate patriots, plastering our belongings with our iconic Canuck plant. It is Canada's unalterable law of international travel — thou shalt adorn thy luggage with the red leaf of the Maple tree. But I think it's time we expose this commandment for the delusion that it is.

I suppose that one common rationale behind wearing the Maple Leaf when abroad is to avoid being mistaken for an American. More than simply stating, "I am Canadian," the flag also says, "I am not an American."

Though the recent election of Barack Obama has done much to dispel global anti-American sentiment, nevertheless, for many years, there was an impression among some Canadian travellers that to be mistaken for an American would be, in this line of thinking, a grave error. The Canadian flag was the essential shield against the slings and arrows of outrageous American misfortune. An English-speaking Canadian, sans toque, might be indistinguishable from the average American, which is why it was absolutely essential for Canadian travellers to clearly identify themselves as non-American, and is also why some American backpackers were even appropriating the Maple Leaf for their own protection.

So, with our red and white backpacks in tow, my wife and I travelled from London to Paris to Amsterdam, and all the way our nationality went more-or-less unacknowledged. It was only when we got to Istanbul, the jewel of the Bosporus, Turkey's majestic ancient city, that we knew he had to do something. It was there that the flags we had so carefully affixed to our luggage were so hastily ripped from their stitches.

Sultanahmet is the historic centre of Istanbul, home to the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, and Topkapi Palace. Nearby is the Grand Bazaar, a covered marketplace of four thousand shops, selling typical Turkish wares such as carpets, lamps and water-pipes. Walking the evening streets, we were greeted by innumerable friendly restaurateurs trying to lure us into their dining establishments, many offering gorgeous rooftop terrace views of the architecture that has made Istanbul famous.

At first we took it in stride, politely replying to each and every one that we had already eaten, or that we were not interested in having our shoes shined, or consuming anything called "Turkish Viagra." Soon, though, the shouts became as incessant as the sound of the Marmara waves, but not quite so soothing to our ears. We noticed a trend among these calls; they all claimed exclusive and unbeatable deals specifically for us, "the nice Canadian couple."

"Ah, Canada. Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver," they would say.

Or, "Hey, Canada! Look, look," dragging us into their stores.

Or, one man was even so bold as to say plainly, "Hello, Canadian sir, would you like to spend money in my store?"

It was all a little too friendly. And we discovered that our only means of survival in a place like the Grand Bazaar was to ignore the calls, completely shut them out, and walk on by. As a stereotypically-polite Canadian I found this difficult, but we just did not have the time, energy, or will to stop and talk to every peddler selling cheap copper earrings. So, our flags came off.

These flags had given the sellers a point of contact with us and, more than that, proof, in their minds, that we spoke English — now all that was gone. The second day, as we walked the cobble-stone streets past the grand Topkapi walls, we left the vendors a little confused. They shouted in English, but we did not reply. They tried German, then French, and, still, we did not reply. As absurd as it might sound in these times of near universal English, we convinced ourselves that we could pass off as some generic unilingual non-English-speaker, and then shrugged our shoulders in feigned ignorance when asked, in English, to buy a three thousand lira silk carpet.

By removing the flags, we had broken one Canadian travel law, but we had also discovered another — do not stand out as a tourist. Often it's unavoidable, but a Maple Leaf on a backpack quickly becomes a giant flashing neon sign screaming "tourist." It's as bad as traipsing through Rome in blue jean cut-offs and flip-flops. We learned it was better to blend in as much as possible, and flags all over our belongings certainly didn't help to do that.

As far as I'm concerned, Canadian travellers can leave the patriotism at home. Sure, we might risk being mistaken for Americans, but heck, maybe that's okay, Obama is pretty popular right now.

Do you have travel tips to share? Tell us your best tips and tricks and in the comments below.

Comments

  •  
  •