Fulbright Canada

One of the things I have missed since returning home is writing on my blog! I've decided to keep the name of my blog and its focus on "place" and cross-cultural encounters and writings, but expand beyond my experiences in Hong Kong.

In the spirit of this change, I share here, an essay I wrote this past week on the experience of my last Fulbright Fellowship. It was for a contest--if I win I get my way paid to Ottawa, Canada for the 20th anniversary of Fulbright-Canada! I'm always open to going somewhere new :)

**I won second prize but can't make it to Ottawa. I'm hoping they send Ontario Maple syrup in place of the travel grant.

My Fulbright Experience
Janel Curry, Fulbright to Canada, 1995.

Just last week a friend of my daughter asked me why I still used a particular serrated paring knife, now bent with use (and abuse). He wanted me to get rid of it, replacing it with something new. “But,” I said, “I bought it at Canadian Tire when I was on my Fulbright to the University of Guelph, Ontario!” Never mind that this was in 1995, fifteen years ago. Such small things, everyday items, often appear insignificant. Yet they are evidence of living, not as a tourist, but as a resident, in another culture. This is the profound gift that comes with a Fulbright Fellowship.

In 1995 I had a Fulbright research fellowship to the University of Guelph. My older daughter finished kindergarten there and my younger daughter turned three. Every day I look at a photo that hangs on my wall, of the two of them together, sitting on our “chesterfield” in the living room in Guelph.

Since I am a geographer, knowledge and attachment to place define my sense of being at home. In my experience in Canada, this attachment was shaped by everything from learning that milk came in bags, to figuring out the Ontario Hydro was not a hydro-electric plant, but a utility company. And of course, it was learning that you usually didn’t go to Canadian Tire to buy tires. These are pieces of knowledge that help you understand how to navigate in another place and feel comfortable in a place. It is part of the process in geography that we call “interpreting an ordinary landscape.” But something deeper happens in the process of that navigation. You begin to develop deeper knowledge and attachment to a landscape.

The Niagara escarpment forms the frame for my Fulbright experience. Not just the physical feature but the human landscapes it shaped. Prior to going to Guelph, I thought of the Niagara escarpment only in terms of Niagara Falls. Now, it provides the structure for my thoughts, my remembrances, and my understanding of the geography of Southern Ontario. These included a visit to a peach orchard along the fruit belt near St. Catherine during harvest season—a relative of a classmate of my daughter. It meant that Niagara Falls was no longer defined in my imagination by just the falls. New friends told us to visit the Welland Canal with a view of at least three sets of locks in the distance as Great Lakes vessels bypass the falls. There we stood next to large vessels as the water poured into the lock with only inches to spare. Then there is Rattlesnake Ridge, where my daughters and I exited the yellow fields of Ontario and disappeared into the forest as we hiked up to a beautiful view of the countryside. And a one day fieldtrip organized by my hosts along the southern end of the Georgian Bay where apple orchards were giving way to ski resorts. And finally there is the memory of a glorious day we spent on a long, shallow shoreline and beach on the west side of the Bruce Peninsula. We joined the crowds armed with cameras in search of Lady slippers, learning about the unique environment that creates habitat for orchids. My daughters played on the beach and flew kites for hours. In the late afternoon I attempted to wash the sand off their bodies, drove to Tobermory, and had supper as the sun went down, on a second floor of a restaurant that overlooked the harbor. I remember seeing the ferry to Manitoulin Island below, imagining the Niagara escarpment as it extended on beyond our reach, and thinking that life did not get better than this.

These are a few of my memories, shaped by landscapes. These memories have shaped my teaching. Every year, when I teach my course on the Geography of Canada and the United States, I get to share that intimate knowledge of the Ontario landscape, and the many others in Canada I have explored since then. And this teaching is shaped not just knowledge but by attachment. These memories have shaped my career. My Fulbright research involved a cross-cultural comparison between U.S. and Canadian natural resource policy. This research stretched my imagination in terms of the range of possible policy structures available to a society—it expanded my view of “all possible worlds.” I have gone on to carry on such research in other cross-cultural contexts, ranging from New Zealand to Hong Kong. These memories have shaped my family. My daughters, though young at the time, will forever identify with being partly Canadian. Their identify formation, begun with this experience in Canada, has continued to be shaped by the international experiences that have followed. I see them comfortable with people from around the world.

But of course, as all geographers know, landscapes can change your life.