Life

1. Jasper National Park 

Jasper National Park was most definitely tranquil but it also was much larger but significantly less crowded and commercialized than its famous neighbor Banff. It was also stunning with its sprawling landscapes consisting of towering mountains, sparkling lakes, pines, spruces and firs all spectacularly set against the backdrop of the rugged Canadian Rockies.

I couldn’t help but not embark on an epic hike here so I opted for the steep 5-mile Sulphur Skyline Trail which I managed to complete in just over four hours before I sunk myself into the steaming Miette Hot Springs at the trailhead! I also managed to take a boat cruise on Maligne Lake to Spirit Island (the glacier-fed water was just such an unreal milky-turquoise color!) and ride the Jasper SkyTram too!

2. Banff National Park

Banff exceeded all my expectations of being a seriously breathtaking beauty spot and had all the crazy beautiful scenery to match – scenery so dramatic that it almost feels staged — jagged peaks, lakes that glowed brilliant turquoise and a faint aroma of pine resin everywhere! There was also a small but fun town that felt adventurous, peaceful and wonderfully cozy all at the same time!

I found ticking off all the big hitters was surprisingly easy as everything was handily clustered close together and connected by well-maintained roads and trails. Of course, I have to mention the kayaking on Lake Louise, waterfall-hopping through Johnston Canyon, steaming away the miles in the Banff Upper Hot Springs but I actually found the quirky gift shops to be a great draw too, especially the Tie-die slogan tees at Cool As A Moose.

3. Toronto – a quieter alternative to New York!

I have to admit, Toronto really surprised me, yes like any major city it had its grittier parts but overall I personally thought it was vibrant, characterful and handsome, with a superb shiny skyline dominated by the CN Tower, layers of both old and new architecture and a breezy lakeside setting along Lake Ontario. The city’s dynamic energy reminded me of New York, it was just a little calmer, cleaner, and more compact.

Hanging out at Cineforum was just one of the unique experiences I had here. Local eccentric Reg Hartt showed me short films and animations in his living room and even talked about his colorful party lifestyle past with a can of Labatt Blue in hand! Other off-the-radar gems included the historic Distillery District, foodie-focused St. Lawrence Market and soaking up the creative vibe in Kensington Market.

4. Johnstone Strait

I discovered the waters here were home to the largest populations of resident killer whales! I also thought it was a stunningly beautiful place, with silvery clear waters surrounded by untouched coastal scenery and forest-covered mountains and the curious resident orcas just added to the extraordinary natural drama of it all!

It wasn’t that hard to get to either and when I staying on Vancouver Island, I drove 1 hour 40 minutes from Campbell River to the tiny community of Telegraph Cove to get here. I stayed a few days and took an orca-viewing boat tour to Robson Bight Ecological Reserve, took a kayak out on the waters and dined on glossy linguine in The Old Saltery Pub while watching the cute and playful sea otters on the planks just outside. The whole place felt wonderfully zen and very nervous system healing!

5. Prince Edward Island

This was just my kind of hidden gem. It was a little off the beaten track but also worth the extra effort to get here, I discovered quaint maritime towns, historic Victorian architecture, green hills, and pristine sandy beaches which ranged from white to red sand. I was also charmed by its welcoming small-town vibe and very slow pace of life! There were warm smiles everywhere I looked here!

After crossing the Confederation Bridge from New Brunswick, I slowed right down for three days and eventually decided on exploring red-cliffed Cavendish village, paying a visit to the pretty home of Anne of Green Gables and padding across Basin Head’s “Singing Sands” beach.

 

Across Canada, a surprising new trend is making its way from living rooms to television studios. TV talk shows and lifestyle segments are increasingly discussing the growing popularity of creative hobbies — especially relaxing forms of art like oil pastel drawing.

Wellness experts say more Canadians are turning to simple artistic activities as a way to reduce stress, spend less time on screens, and reconnect with creativity. Programs about health and lifestyle frequently highlight how even beginners can enjoy artistic hobbies without special training.

One activity gaining particular attention is working with oil pastels. The technique is easy to start, requires minimal materials, and allows people to create colorful illustrations in just a short time. Many participants describe the process as calming and almost meditative.

Lifestyle magazines across Canada are also reporting a surge of interest in do-it-yourself creative kits designed for beginners. These kits typically include pastels, paper, and step-by-step guidance that helps anyone create small artworks at home.

Experts say the appeal lies in simplicity. Unlike more complex crafts, oil pastel drawing allows people to relax and experiment without worrying about perfection. For many Canadians looking for a healthy way to unwind after busy days, this creative hobby is becoming an accessible and enjoyable option.

As talk shows continue to feature the trend, it’s clear that creative self-expression is becoming an important part of everyday wellness culture across Canada. Whether for relaxation, mindfulness, or simply fun, artistic hobbies are finding a growing audience nationwide.

Television often projects an image of perfect control, especially during news broadcasts and live programs. That is why moments when this well-oiled machine doesn’t work flawlessly attract so much attention—not as scandals or dramatic events, but simply in a human and often amusing way.

One such incident occurred during the evening news on France 2, hosted by Anne-Sophie Lapix. As she introduced a somewhat unusual segment, the presenter briefly smiled, tried to continue reading, but was suddenly overcome with laughter. She paused, looked down, apologized to the audience, and eventually finished her sentence. In a format where emotions are usually carefully restrained, the spontaneity of the moment surprised viewers.

During the pandemic, these kinds of “human” moments became more common, particularly when journalists broadcast live from their homes. In a France 2 news segment, a correspondent was reporting live from his apartment when a cat suddenly jumped into the frame, walked across the camera lens, and partially blocked his face. The journalist froze for a moment but then continued his report without reacting, maintaining a completely professional expression.

Some of these mishaps are also minor technical errors. During a weather forecast on France 3, the labels on the map of France were placed incorrectly. The names of several cities and regions did not match their geographic locations, and some infographic elements appeared shifted. The presenter continued the explanation without commenting on the visual mistake, which viewers quickly noticed.

Live broadcasts are also vulnerable to unintended interruptions. On BFM TV, a presenter began a live segment with a correspondent on location and announced an upcoming live interview. However, the connection was not established immediately. For several seconds there was silence and the image froze, before the journalist finally appeared and began the report as if nothing had happened.

Entertainment programs are not immune to these situations either. In one episode of “Don’t Forget the Lyrics” (“N’oubliez pas les paroles”), host Nagui misspoke while explaining the rules of the game, accidentally changing the meaning of what he said. He immediately stopped the show, laughed at his mistake, corrected himself, and continued the program. The clip was broadcast and regularly appears in compilations of the show’s funniest moments.

Sometimes the organization of a broadcast itself can lead to unexpected situations. On the program Télématin, the camera once turned on before the live broadcast officially began. The hosts were chatting, checking their notes, and not looking at the camera. Only a few seconds later did one of them realize the program was already on air, and the broadcast began abruptly, directly from behind the scenes.

Language nuances can also create slightly humorous moments. On France 24, during an interview with an English-speaking guest, the interpreter translated an English idiom literally, resulting in an unusual French sentence. The host cleverly rephrased the statement without pointing out the mistake, and the conversation continued normally.

Even the end of a news broadcast can sometimes be surprising. On TF1, during a news program, the closing credits began playing too early and drowned out the presenter’s voice. He paused briefly, waited for the music to finish, and then concluded the broadcast with a final sentence before saying goodbye to viewers.

None of these incidents caused controversy or called the authenticity of the programs into question. On the contrary, they serve as a reminder that behind the scenes are professionals who must deal with the unpredictability of live broadcasting—and that it is precisely this element of surprise that makes television so engaging.

Almost every Canadian dreams of a cottage. Not necessarily a mansion with a pool, but a simple cabin by a lake, a rustic place in the woods, or even just a well-loved cabin on a rented crown land lot – anywhere that’s quiet, has a bit of land, and offers the chance “to be alone, but not lonely.” This desire isn’t about wealth – it’s about freedom.

The history is clear: for generations, the cottage or camp has been an escape. It was often built with salvaged materials, by hand, without fussy permits, but it was *yours*. Today, we don’t have the same constraints, but the desire remains.

The garden is sacred. That’s where you grow tomatoes, herbs, maybe some zucchinis. Not because they’re cheaper, but because they’re *yours*. And when you give someone vegetables from your garden, it’s a greater gift than store-bought flowers.

The BBQ isn’t just a grill – it’s a symbol of community. A Saturday afternoon: friends bring over some craft beer, kids run around on the lawn, someone is at the grill with burgers and sausages. No one’s watching the clock, no one’s counting calories. It’s a pure, uncommercial moment.

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“Well, it is what it is.” This phrase is the Canadian equivalent of stoicism. It’s not about giving up – it’s about realism, often with a hint of wry acceptance. Canadians don’t necessarily believe the world can be changed with grand gestures. We believe it can be gotten through – with humour, resilience, and a healthy dose of practicality.

This attitude has roots in our geography and history: vast, often harsh landscapes, the legacy of colonial rule, the quiet endurance of being a middle power navigating a world of superpowers. We learned that huge expectations often lead to huge disappointments. It’s better to expect a little – and enjoy the small pleasures.

At work, this shows up as “do what you have to do, but don’t hold your breath for promises.” The boss hints at a bonus? “Yeah, right…” No one holds their breath, but everyone does their job. Not out of blind loyalty, but out of personal pride.

In politics, this fatalism is strongest. Elections? “They’re all the same anyway.” Protests? “Who actually goes to those?” And yet – when faced with extreme injustice, Canadians will stand up. But only when they really have to.

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In Canada, there’s a neighbourhood paradox: a neighbour is someone who’ll lend you a cup of sugar, but might not know your last name. Our neighbourly relations are pragmatic, but often bounded. We’ll help when needed – but we won’t pry into why you needed the sugar in the first place.

In smaller towns, it’s different. There, a neighbour knows when you’re going on vacation, how many kids you have, and what kind of car you drive. And if you need help fixing a fence, they’ll show up – no need to call. But even there, a rule applies: don’t interfere unless you’re asked.

In the city, the distance is greater. In a condo tower, you might go years without knowing who lives next door. But when it snows, suddenly everyone is outside – each person clearing their own little section of the sidewalk. No one says it out loud, but everyone knows: that’s your part to do.

This culture has roots in our history, from the quiet resilience of early settlers to the more reserved nature of Northern climates. We learned to be self-reliant. Today, we’re not suspicious, but a certain cautiousness remains. We don’t often ask about politics, religion, or salary. These are personal matters – and about those, we are quiet.

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For a Canadian, a beer isn’t just a drink – it’s a part of the social fabric. Every region has its favourite: a local craft IPA, a classic lager from a big brewery, a Moosehead from the Maritimes, a Sleeman’s from Ontario… But the brand isn’t the point; the ritual is. The Friday afternoon “beer o’clock” after work, the Saturday get-together at a friend’s place or a local pub, the Sunday afternoon “cold one” while watching the game – these are the pillars of our week.

The local pub, tavern, or legion hall isn’t just a place to drink. It’s a “third place” – between home and work. That’s where you debate politics, plan a cottage trip, or commiserate over a hockey loss. The bartender knows everyone: what they drink, the names of their kids, when their birthday is. And crucially – they don’t intrude unless you engage them.

Sunday has a special, sacred quality for many. Stores have different hours, the pace of life slows down, and a sense of calm settles in. Canadians often do very little – and that’s perfectly acceptable. A walk in a ravine or park, a barbecue on the deck, a family dinner. Sunday is a time for doing nothing with dignity. Whoever works on a Sunday (outside of essential services) is either new to the country or has serious problems.

This rhythm is deeply rooted in our history, shaped by pioneer resourcefulness and a cultural appreciation for work-life balance that has become a modern hallmark. Canadians carved out their own islands of leisure and defend them fiercely. Even today, in the age of constant emails, many people “save themselves” for the weekend.

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In Canadian society, a great deal is said between the lines. We aren’t a land of grand gestures or loud declarations. Instead, we value modesty, a certain self-deprecating humour, and the ability to “get to the point.” When someone talks too much, it automatically raises suspicion. It’s better to be quiet, listen, and act. This approach is deeply embedded in our mindset – from a small town in the Maritimes to a boardroom in Vancouver.

“Straight talk” is often mistakenly seen as bluntness. In reality, it’s honesty without embellishment. A Canadian might say, “That’s not going to work,” instead of “Perhaps we could consider an alternative approach.” It’s not rudeness – it’s respect for the other person’s time. Similarly, care is often communicated through actions: a neighbour brings over a casserole when someone is feeling down, or a friend shovels your driveway without being asked when they see you’re swamped. Words feel unnecessary.

At work, this style manifests as “stop talking, start doing.” A boss who walks around making small talk is viewed with suspicion. Real respect is earned by the person who can quietly and effectively solve a problem. Meetings? Better keep them short and on-topic. PowerPoint presentations? Only if absolutely unavoidable.

A similar dynamic plays out in families. Fathers are often known for “the look.” Kids know that when Dad raises an eyebrow, it’s worse than yelling. And partners? They know that when one says, “Do whatever you want,” what’s often meant is, “You’ll do what I’m thinking, and we both know it.”

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