I like being in Canada in December because it’s cold. The cold makes me grateful for being warm, which makes the extreme heat around the world easier to bear because I can remember those December days in Canada when I was cold. The cold has other advantages: when it’s cold outside, you feel obligated to do indoor activities like puzzles, cooking, video games, sandwiches, and Simpsons marathons. You can’t do these things on a clear conscience when it’s sunny and warm outside. December in Canada is also a great time to get into the Christmas spirit because there’s likely to be snow somewhere around, and even Christmas markets. Within Canada, Winnipeg (aka Winterpeg) is a perfect December winter destination for all of the above, and the two weeks I spent there with Marce (who could only spend a week), and I spent there
The only thing that wasn’t so Christmas-spirited about Winnipeg was the arrival at the airport. Marce and I were treated like narco drug traffickers by the local immigration agents and taken into a back area after picking up our checked luggage. After 20 minutes of answering questions about my employment, proving my finances (logging into my bank account’s website and showing them my balance), and explaining my relationship with Marce and the reasons for visiting Winnipeg (“it seemed cool”), they let us go. I suppose I shouldn’t have been so surprised or alarmed by the frigidity of Canadian hospitality, but I was surprised that exploring Winnipeg, a place I had never been before, made them suspicious. Trust me, if these immigration officers had ever spent two weeks at summer Boy Scout camp outside of Osceola, Missouri (ticks, lots of ticks), they would have understood the appeal of Winnipeg, Manitoba.
Marce and I made the most of our time in Winnipeg. The extreme cold (-19 Celsius) was a novelty, and we had fun doing a puzzle we bought at a local tabletop game store and making the most of the couch and TV after we finished work each day. We visited local museums and loved the indigenous art that was on display. We visited a curling rink a few blocks from the Airbnb I had rented and ventured to a highly suspect Vietnamese Banh mi restaurant that was only marginally gratifying after a sub-zero 15-minute walk (the parking spot I found was farther away than it should have been).
For the second time in two years, I failed to purchase professional hockey tickets through a Ticketmaster reseller Website (one of the top 10 most infuriating user experiences on the web), and so my dream of attending a Winnipeg Jets game was not realized. If I can find a way to return to Canada again in 2026, I’ll give it a shot then.
