Canada 2025, Part XI: A Canadian Wedding

 We were told, very early on, that the wedding attire was "cozy and casual," so after my shower, I put on my tan/fawn Columbia zip-up jacket over a Sun Records t-shirt and a pair of thick Duluth Trading Company jeans, with my normal sneakers. This is, essentially, a standard outfit for me and really isn't anything different than I'd wear at home. I'd also worn variations on this theme, sometimes with my corduroy baseball cap, pretty much the entire time we were in Canada.

Daisy put on comfy pants, a nondescript top, and her new black Canada hoodie, fixed her hair, and off we went to meet her aunt and uncle downstairs and then go to the wedding. 

I will mention here that we'd not seen Daisy's cousin or her husband-to-be, nor had we heard from them, the entire time we'd been in Canada to this point. I am in contact with Daisy's cousin on a pretty frequent basis, actually -- Daisy is pretty close with her, and I've gotten to know her well over the course of the past few years. She is a wonderful person, very kind and sweet, and I talk to her back and forth a lot over Snapchat. We have bonded over our love of cats as well as the normal family stuff. Her husband-to-be, as I've mentioned here before, is a Navy man, and is one of the greatest people I've met in Canada as a whole -- incredibly fun, funny, and open with a kind and thoughtful personality. I adore them both, and would have never missed their wedding. They knew we were there in town and knew we'd been up at the family homestead for the week prior, because I'd told Daisy's cousin before we left. And I had texted her from the hotel room to let her know we were there in Dartmouth and were excited. Aside from that, I knew they were finalizing a wedding and I did not disturb them as they made their final preparations to be wed.

When we got downstairs to the lobby, we met up with Daisy's aunt and uncle and were the only ones in the lobby bar in the middle of the afternoon, so we got to have a nice little sit down time with them. Daisy's aunt produced a bottle of wine from a bag she was carrying with her -- I found this hysterical, but said nothing -- and her uncle asked me if I drank alcohol.

"Not at all," I said.

"Yeah, I seem to remember that," he replied, "so we brought this--" and he produced a four-pack of Guinness zero alcohol from the same bag. 

Daisy laughed. "We just saw a commercial for this last night, and Brandon mentioned how much he wanted to try it."

This was true. In my beer-drinking days, Guinness was a perennial favorite of mine either at a bar straight from the tap or in the draught tallboy cans. But, because I haven't drank in years, it was something I no longer could have -- and I made the mental note, aloud, when we saw the commercial that I wanted to pick some up to try it once we got back home to the states, as long as it was available there. 

It was delightful. Like, you can tell there's no alcohol in it, because of course you can, but the flavor of the beer itself is on point. I was thrilled. 

We sat and chatted over drinks for about half an hour or so, catching up. Turns out they're at least casual fans of the Hip, and spent time in Bobcaygeon, Ontario (which Gord Downie sings about in one of the Hip's most famous/popular songs). 

"I hear that's where the constellations reveal themselves one star at a time," I said with a smirk.

Daisy didn't get it; she had not, at that juncture, heard the song or that lyric. When we got home, I not only played the song for her, but held up the artsy t-shirt I have with that very lyric written in fancy script across it over a field of stars.

We talked about many things in that short time; our new jobs, the cats, how grandma was doing, our love of Tim Hortons, the troubles in exchanging cash in Canada, the American Tax Daisy was charged for her haircut, etc -- it was like a half-hour long recap of our lives and our entire trip up to that point. It all seemed so far away yet so close at the same time, and throughout the conversation I was so very happy and relaxed -- of all places all of us could be catching up, we were doing it in a hotel lobby bar in Dartmouth, far away from each of our homes, in town to see the wedding of other family members. It was so intimate yet so disconnected from our normal lives, for all four of us sitting there. 

Eventually, of course, it was time to leave to get to the wedding venue, as we were told beforehand that parking would be at a premium because it was a small location. Both of us had our own vehicles, both rented, and Daisy's aunt and uncle offered to let us ride with them. We declined as in the event we needed to leave early, if one of us got sick or something (Daisy's POTS had been acting up from time to time over the trip) we wanted our own vehicle there. 

The drive to the wedding venue took us out of the civilization of Dartmouth and onto a number of woodsy forest backroads, past ponds and lakes and pond/lakefront homes and communities, and we quickly learned again that if you head away from any city or town in Atlantic Canada in any direction, you are quickly thrust right back into wilderness for your drive, with an occasional clearing of the trees and rocks where you can get a glimpse of the wide-open ocean and scenic coastline. 

The wedding venue was in a town called Mineville, which (I assume) was so named because there was once a mine there. It's a small community in a cove a bit back from the southeastern coast of Nova Scotia, northeast of the Halifax area, and it is heavily forested. The venue itself was an old barn converted and updated into a small resort area/event center and restaurant -- at least by the way it looked, anyway. I don't recall the name of the place right now, honestly, but I know it was about two miles or so "as the crow flies" away from where Daisy's other aunt and uncle, parents of the bride, lived. They'd originally wanted to do the ceremony in their backyard, so this place appeared to be the next closest approximation that could hold the number of people the bride and groom wanted there. 

That should have been the first clue that original plans had changed quite a bit.

It turned out, once we arrived, that a lot of assumptions had been made based on our original invite that ended up being wholly inaccurate. The first was that parking was limited. Well, it was, especially near the entrance of the venue where we crammed the Bronco into a woodsy corner of the driveway, but it turned out that at the bottom of the hill there was a large field with all the parking that could possibly be needed.

The second was the attire.

Remember, we were told and reassured multiple times that the dress code for the wedding was "cozy and casual," as it was supposed to be a small gathering with a ceremony and a bonfire.

We got there and it was very clear this was a far more formal affair than originally planned -- we're walking by many friends and family of the bride and groom, friends and family who are dressed to the nines in suits and ties, with flowers on their lapels and generally, the works. And not just people who were part of the bride or groom's parties either -- normal people, wedding attendees.

And here we were, the Americans, looking very American in our hoodies and jeans, feeling like we were the only ones who got the "cozy and casual" memo, or at least thinking that meant something completely different in Canadian parlance. 

The venue area was massive -- it was not a small backyard affair. There was the building itself, a large yard with music pumping (thanks to Daisy's uncle's sound system) where the propane bonfire fire pits were, a cigar bar, tables full of drinks and snacks, and a huge tent with tables and chairs halfway down the hill. I foolishly assumed that the tent would be where the wedding would be held, but I was wrong -- the tent was set up for the after-wedding dinner. It was a tent big enough to hold probably 200 people. 

We met up with the parents of the bride -- Daisy's aunt and uncle -- who were both dressed very formally (almost as if it were their own wedding), and they relayed that the logistics of setting up everything had been a nightmare, especially the few days leading up to the wedding day. The caterer had abruptly canceled and they had to get an entirely new caterer, for example -- on Thanksgiving weekend, and one who could feed the number of people expected to attend -- and that had been incredibly difficult. We then learned that the couple originally wanted to get married in onesie pajamas, an idea that (presumably) Daisy's aunt had shot down. 

The bride later let us know that her mother had basically forced her to go dress shopping and pick out a dress, something that I found quietly amusing. They'd compromised on getting married in traditional attire for photos and the like and then changing into the onesies after the ceremony and photos had ended. Spoiler alert -- the onesies did not make an appearance while we were there.

Once everyone had gathered and were mingling -- meaning, once all those who planned to attend were there -- strangers, friends and family alike to all of us -- it was announced that we were to follow a long path down into the woods, through a swampy grassland area, to the very bottom of the hill, where the ceremony would take place.

I will add here that if Mama had come with us on this trip, this part of the wedding would've been terrible on her for her mobility. The path was beautiful, winding through tall grasses and trees, but it was just wide enough to walk normally on and not wide or smooth enough for a scooter or walker. We were all essentially single file for most of it, and it was probably...oh, 200, 300 meters from the building down to the actual spot where the wedding would take place. 

Eventually we came to a little opening in the trees -- and there, under the canopy of thick trees and on a bed of freshly-fallen fall leaves, were multiple rows of benches and an archway made of twisted vines wrapped in black lace. I immediately thought "yep, that's [cousin's] aesthetic." Because, really, it was. I don't claim to know Daisy's cousin better than I do, better than Daisy or the rest of the family knows her, because I don't -- but I can tell you I know her well enough to where I did not expect a fully traditional wedding ceremony from her. Aside from the black lace wrapping around the archway, traditional is mostly what was being presented here -- and I was sure that the black lace was her choice.

All of us found places to sit...while there was room, anyway. Daisy and I crammed onto one of the benches near the middle, along with her aunt and uncle who'd come up from Ontario. It soon became apparent that the wedding would quickly become standing-room-only, as there were far more people showing up than there was seating for at the ceremony. People began to line both sides of the benches and a crowd gathered at the back of the forest area, standing behind everyone else. Most other attendees were also dressed to the nines. 

The ceremony itself -- officiated by the twin sister of the mother of the bride -- was beautiful and very, very traditional. The couple did not write their own vows, opting for the more traditional ones, there was no grand speech by the officiant. The bride's dress was gorgeous, traditional and white (it actually reminded me quite a bit of Daisy's dress) and the groom's tuxedo was deep emerald green, which was the perfect choice for him and went really well with the nature backdrop. Everyone in the bride and groom's parties filed in, played their parts, and filed back out afterwards, and it was done -- they were married. It was announced that the bride and groom, their parties, and immediate family would be taking an hour or so to do pictures, and the rest of us should saunter back up the hill to get some drinks before everyone would gather for dinner.

So that's what we did. As we went back up the hill, we could see that there was a flat clearing area to the side of the trails -- you would've missed it coming down if you weren't paying attention -- and that's where the formal photos were being done as the sun was beginning to set -- they had planned that timeframe perfectly. 

Now, here's the thing you might not know, but would probably assume about Nova Scotia in October -- even when the weather is beautiful and warm during the day, and it was about 65 or so degrees without a cloud in the sky on this day -- once that sun starts setting, you are reminded that you are in Canada in the fall and normal Canadian fall rules apply -- it gets chilly AF. And in Atlantic Canada, the sun sets fast. We went from full light to full dark in the span of less than an hour.

During the time between the ceremony and the call for dinner, Daisy and I mingled around a bit -- sometimes together, sometimes separately. I met the groom's sister and her boyfriend, both of whom were wonderful people. I met the groom's stepmother as well, who was also very sweet. At dinner, we sat with one of the bride's childhood friends and the groom's two cousins from Newfoundland who had come down for the wedding, but seemed to be professional adventurers/travelers who had been all across Canada, Europe, and the states as well. 

The dinner itself was fine; just like our own wedding, it was the basics of spaghetti, sauce, and salads -- something I appreciated. When Daisy and I planned our wedding, the catering was done by Fazoli's -- yes, the fast-casual Italian place -- because they could do vegan spaghetti, sauce, breadsticks, and salad for 200 people for $400-something. This wedding wasn't much different. I appreciated the simplicity of all of it, honestly. I appreciated it more when I remembered that this particular caterer had been able to throw all of this together and make it work in the span of a few short days, since the other caterer had canceled.

Eventually, everyone had finished eating, and while a lot of folks sat at their tables in the tent and kept chatting down there, the cold of the unheated tent was enough to make me lean over to Daisy to tell her I could not feel my fingers and I needed to go back up to where they'd fired up the propane bonfires. 

If you're wondering why the fires were propane-based, it's because Nova Scotia was, and likely still is, under a burn ban because of the wildfires that have plagued the province (and country) over the past few years. You can turn a propane fire pit off -- you can't turn off a bonfire. 

Daisy hung out with "the Newfies," as the groom called them, for a bit longer. I came back up to the main building, where I found multiple family members to relax and catch up with, some of whom I had not seen since the death of Daisy's grandfather in 2022. Eventually, the bride and groom both came back up and we got a little time with each of them -- they made sure to spend some time with us since we'd come so far away, and sincerely expressed their gratitude for us being there. We did not want to take up a lot of their time, because of course, this was their day and we were just two people of many, many people who'd shown up to see them be married. Believe me when I say I wish we could've spent hours just with the two of them, but we knew that wasn't going to be something we could do.

The parents of the bride, Daisy's aunt and uncle, did spend a lot of good quality time with us. They missed us and are always thrilled to see us when we're there, but this time around they made no bones about it that it was time for us to come home. Meaning, figure it out, get Daisy's parents on board, and get the fuck out of the states and come back to Nova Scotia for good. 

We, uh, actually discussed this opportunity with multiple family members when we were there, both at the wedding and outside of the wedding, and all of them had the same sentiment -- it was not hard, in their eyes, to move from the states to Canada, and it appeared far more difficult than it actually was primarily because of the US media's efforts to keep everyone from trying. Because, of course, if Americans knew how easy it actually was, they'd be abandoning their country in droves.

I took all of this with a grain of salt, especially after having numerous discussions with Mama over the years about just how much average Canadians dislike Americans and discriminate against them in housing and job opportunities -- and this was long before the ruffling of feathers between the countries over the past year or so. 

But, we were told, there's a support network for us. And there is -- our Canadian family is wonderful, they love us and would do anything they could to help us. Daisy's aunt and uncle point blank told us their home is open to us at any time for any reason when and if we need to escape or decide to pull the trigger. The groom's stepsister, upon hearing that I've worked in telecommunications for over a decade and was a college English professor before that, flat-out told me I'd have zero problems finding work that would allow me to establish residency -- Canada looks for people who can contribute to Canada, and singles out those who can provide a service and expertise to fast-track them to permanent residency/citizenship, apparently. Everyone seemed to agree that with Daisy being a Canadian citizen, it would be much easier for me as her husband to get all of that established and locked down were it to come to that. 

I honestly don't know how far off we are from that possibly becoming reality, to be frank with all of you here reading this. 

Daisy's aunt introduced us to friends and family we'd not yet met as Canadians -- I am an "honorary Canadian." I am Canadian by marriage, much like someone is a brother-in-law or son-in-law by marriage. According to the family, Canada is as much my home as it is theirs.

I wish I could put into words how that makes me feel; how welcomed, how included, and how actually loved knowing that feels. It is a feeling of deep comfort I can't exactly describe.

Eventually, but not before many other people, we did say our goodbyes and depart. It was a long, tiring drive back to the hotel that seemed to take forever in the dark, but once again I noticed that for a Saturday night in Dartmouth, the town seemed mostly deserted. There was a little traffic here and there but the plazas were empty, the highways were sparsely dotted with other cars, and it was a ghost town compared to what you'd see in Omaha on a Saturday night.

We arrived back at the hotel, very tired after the long day, and ate cold leftover pizza. Shortly thereafter, completely drained, I fell asleep first. Daisy followed at some point, and with our missions accomplished and all objectives taken care of, our trip to Canada essentially ended that night.