It took us 30 minutes to cycle from our apartment in Junction Triangle to the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE), Canada’s largest fair with a history of almost 150 years and counting. It has its own exhibition grounds on the shore of Lake Ontario. On our way, we stopped along the Martin Goodman Trail by the lakefront to watch an aerial performance of jet fighters swooping just above the water, above the masts of idling yachts.

It was a bright, warm day at the end of August, and the grounds, over 200 acres of land, were heaving. Held since 1879, CNE has historically been a showcase for Canada’s agricultural and technological advancements. Today, it is replete with rides, areas cordoned off for alcohol consumption, a range of overpriced fun fair snacks and even a casino. 

Long queues were par for the course at the more popular rides. The livestock expo was particularly popular with kids. The fire station that was part of the grounds was open to the public, the fire engine proving a palpable hit for photos. Small stages everywhere provided opportunities for lesser-known bands to strut their stuff. They were mostly older white men in their 60s rocking out to a crowd that mirrored their demographic. We signed up for a free walking tour of the grounds, with a focus on the historical buildings. It was marginalia at its finest, with small factoids that gave brief glimpses into longer histories. 

For new arrivals such as us, the CNE seemed to be a best-of presentation of the glories of Canada; from its robust agricultural pedigree to its artisanal produce and pop-culture cuisine. But it felt a bit too commercialised—and not “real”. It even felt a little tired, almost as if the same things were on display every year, and people went out of habit and a sense of duty rather than in anticipation of something new. 

We’re here for at least the four years that I (Carolyn) will need to complete my PhD at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education or OISE (pronounced “oi-zee”) in the University of Toronto. That’s quite a bit of time to work on this jigsaw, which also means our strategy isn’t to attend lectures, cook rice and plan trips to Singapore every six months. We need to feel the contours of each puzzle piece. We need to sit and stare. 

Marc and I have decided that not all Canadians are very nice. Also, not all of them are very sure what it means to be Canadian, much like how Singaporeans and Singapore struggle with that notion. And whilst this isn’t a postcard about nice or not-so-nice Canadiana and Canadians, it is a collection of experiences and encounters we’ve had so far that will continue to guide us as we figure out which piece of the puzzle goes where. 

According to Marc’s friend, who so very generously drove us around sprawling Toronto, the essence of Canada is more pronounced in regions like Quebec, with its logging, fishing and maple syrup industries. It’s also in the general, hands-on DIY nature of people who live in more rural areas.

He added, “We’re losing that Canadian-ness because immigrants are allowed and encouraged to be themselves.” Our friend also talked about the doing aspect of Canadian-ness, which is a trait he seems to embody; he’s open to exploring change, to debate, to difference. He’s also polite, helpful and giving. A nice Canadian.