There's something about saltwater cowboys I like

Where to from here -

Apparently, all 12,000 residents of Stony Plain, Alberta drive. This is the only explanation for my recent experience. You can walk for hours in the town of Stony Plain (further referred to as Stony) without ever encountering a convenience store or another human being on foot.

Sure, dogs were barking at me as if they had never seen a person walk on the sidewalk before. I supposed these animals assumed people must in fact climb aboard a motor vehicle before setting off anywhere, ever. Gas consumption is an afterthought while driving is an obvious necessity in the picturesque town just 30 minutes outside of Edmonton. I visited Stony this past July for a cousin's wedding and it was the fracturing of my favourite sunglasses that sent me in search of Crazy Glue. I had intended to resuscitate the black and white retro shades purchased in Montreal (only ten bucks!) but feared, after nearly two hours of walking in the western midday sun, I might be the one in need of resuscitation. I was really that thirsty. And lost.

I did, however, find water and Crazy Glue that day, but it took me 90 minutes before stumbling upon a Seven Eleven. Never was I happier to see a symbol of American capitalism in my life. My first and strongest impression of Alberta was that it is a province with a highway fetish, wide and far reaching labyrinth style roads, an obsession where trucks reign high. Literally, they reign high. They're all jacked up on these Transformers meets monster truck tires. It's intimidating as I am sure it was intended. I was perfectly prepared to despise the province who I personally blame for displacing my brethren. Childish, I know. Misplaced, indeed, but we all need a direction to point the finger and sometimes (rightly or wrongly) I point mine at Alberta.

In my mind, Edmonton has become the old witch from Hansel and Gretel who has lured some of my favourite people into her gingerbread house. I constantly fear she's going to eat them. Such was my perspective when I flew into the city of champions, so ready was I to dislike the place that I jeered a little when our pilot signed off saying "stay classy Edmonton." As if I thought at the time.

Even now, I can barely believe that I went to Alberta for vacation. I'd always had this notion that people only went there as a last resort, a last ditch effort at keeping the house from the bank. Images of men leaving their families on the evening news seem to seep in no matter what positive aspects are recounted. So I was as surprised as anyone to discover I didn't hate the place at all. I'm not currently packing up my clothes and my cat to shift out west, but I actually...kind of...enjoyed it.

Sitting in a hot tub after a beverage or two with our heads tipped back to watch the Northern Lights toss glow stick goo across the night sky was pretty enjoyable. The sun showed up every day as forecasted and people seemed genuinely friendly and approachable. Mind you, a farmer did try to run us off his land with a crop duster but I'm gonna let that one slide on account of the amazing pictures of Canola I took. That and we were probably, definitely, trespassing.

Thing is, I have been strongly opposed to even the notion of Alberta for so long without ever considering that many of these important people to me, to many of us, were building lives out there. They were demonstrating the tenacity characteristic of Newfoundlanders, the adaptability that allowed us to become Newfoundlanders in the first place. This courage to try, this commitment to community and a proof is in the pudding sense of humour above it all.

There was a point in our not so distant past that we were all come from aways: English, Irish, Scottish, what have you, most of us started somewhere else. One particular evening of laying sod in a fellow Newfoundlander's backyard comes to mind when I consider everything positive I discovered in Stony. A group of us far away from the rock were still connected enough to lend a hand. Brilliant. Simani had it partially right anyway, a Newfie's a Newfie wherever he goes. Whether he's figuring as best he can at home or away we owe it to one another to keep on an open mind (even if Crazy Glue retailers are few and far between). So from now on, when it comes my turn to point a finger, I'll just do what everyone else does and point it at the government.

(Megan Coles is a writer originally from Savage Cove. She can be reached at megcoles@gmail.com).