Our 30th Canada Day

In front of the 2010 Winter Olympics torch near the Vancouver Waterfront. 

On our very first Canada Day, Jay and I were still living out of a hotel as we hadn't rented an apartment yet. We were intensely concentrated on that task, having just arrived from Dubai via Hong Kong a few days prior on June 26, 1996. It is rather hard to comprehend that thirty years have passed so successfully and quickly since those initial, unsettled days.

That first, rather unplanned, experience marked the 129th celebration of Canada's birthday, and here we are today celebrating the 159th. More than forty percent of our lives and seventy percent of our time together has been anchored in Vancouver.

Heading to the waterfront on the SkyTrain today was a delightful way to say thanks to the country that has provided so much to us. 

Happy Canada Day!

Tomorrow's Canada Day!

I am actually a bit embarrassed to have to spell this out. It just dawned on me that some of you, specifically those unfortunate enough to not find themselves living in Canada, might have missed the memo. Some may wonder why the entire upper portion of North America is draped in red and white this week, eh? Sorry about that.

 

For folks south of the 49th parallel, who may be unaware, July 1st is Canada Day. Tomorrow is essentially our equivalent of the Fourth of July, just without the musket fire, the dramatic declarations, or ruining perfectly good tea by throwing it into a harbor.

While your national mythos is built on a violent, chaotic kerfuffle, ours is built on the triumph of polite, rather boring, administrative consensus. On tomorrow's date in 1867, the colonies of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and the Province of Canada (which immediately, and politely, split itself into Ontario and Quebec) simply got together on the chesterfield, drafted some paperwork, and quietly asked London if they could consolidate into a single Dominion. London essentially said, "Sure, sounds good," and we said, "Thank you very much."

We still celebrate with the standard North American protocol, but buy our two-four of beer with a pocketful of loonies and toonies.  We do fire up the barbecue, and set off evening fireworks too. We just try to make sure the explosions aren't too loud, so as not to bother the neighbors. Sorry again for interrupting the preparations for your 4th with this bit of trivia.

An Accidental Hooligan

I am not exactly a devoted follower of the FIFA World Cup; in fact, my knowledge of the tournament is exceptionally limited. However, a completely pragmatic decision to spend my final, unexchangeable dirhams at the Casablanca airport last week has inadvertently turned me into a partisan football supporter.

 

I purchased this branded bucket hat strictly as a financial transaction to avoid dragging useless currency back to New Westminster. Yet, serendipity has intervened. Tonight, Morocco faces the Netherlands in the knockout stage. If my newly adopted Atlas Lions manage to win, their next opponent will be Canada.

It seems that a simple airport impulse buy has left me entirely prepared to sit on the balcony and face a profound crisis of national loyalty over a sport I rarely watch. The true winner of this tournament might just be my effort to avoid foreign exchange fees.

Full Circle in the Tracking Wars

I am a total sucker for gadgets. On occasion, this trait has had me jumping into tech trends a bit too early. Six years ago, back in July of 2020, I polled a few Facebook friends about Bluetooth trackers. The response was a resounding silence, but I could not resist. I ended up buying a four-pack of Tile Mates via Amazon Canada. At the time, my concept of trackers was a vague jumble of GPS devices and FBI vans, but I quickly learned they were just little speakers you could summon from an app. They proved their worth a year later during quarantine when that high-pitched little tune guided me to my car keys buried deep inside a backpack that had travelled with us all winter.  The initial thrill faded and was replaced by a distinct logistical annoyance. Keeping tabs on the tiny fleet of Tiles meant managing a miniature battery supply chain. The biggest hassle was keeping multiple coin-cell batteries replaced across different form factors. 

Then, Apple arrived in 2021 and hijacked the entire market with the AirTag. They utilized their massive network of a billion iPhones and left Tile's community network completely irrelevant. Google was paralyzingly slow to counter. They chose to delay their own Find My Device network until 2024 to ensure cross-platform safety protocols were in place. Because I always own Google phones, my early Tile purchases were marooned in a tech landscape dominated by Apple.

My new purchase today feels like hitting the sweet spot at exactly the right time. Now that Google’s global tracking network is mature, I can finally use the ecosystem natively from my phone. I have officially ordered a yellow Chipolo LOOP, which completely solves my old Tile grievances with its USB-C rechargeable battery. No more hunting down tiny watch batteries or tossing plastic squares into the landfill. Furthermore, navigating a mixed-hardware household is a delicate balance. I am currently running the new Pixel 10 Pro, while Jay is on a Pixel 7 Pro. If I had chased the newer Motorola Moto Tags for their fancy directional tracking, Jay’s phone would be locked out of the feature entirely. In the end, my tracking journey has gone from premature plastic squares to a democratic, rechargeable powerhouse. The Chipolo LOOP treats both of our Pixels as equals with its deafening 125-decibel siren; let us just hope it is loud enough to find our keys without triggering a noise complaint from the neighbours.

Just Down the Road a Bit ...

I have spent decades cataloguing our surroundings, yet even with nearly fifty thousand images sitting on my Flickr account, I can never quite capture enough to satisfy my retrospective curiosity.

Today, while haphazardly clicking through the photo library, I stumbled across a single frame taken exactly twenty-one years ago today: June 27, 2005. The shot looks out from under the concrete belly of the SkyTrain tracks at the McInnis overpass, right here in New Westminster.

Looking at it now, my only real regret is that 360-degree cameras weren't tucked into our pockets back then. However, this static frame still manages to capture some solid urban geometry. The concrete guideway perfectly frames the mid-2000s quay skyline, complete with a SkyTrain caught mid-transit. 

The downtown corridor was a very different beast two decades ago; there was certainly nothing that resembles the current New Westminster SkyTrain station in that era. In fact, if I were standing in this exact spot today, rising right behind me would be the massive residential towers of Azure I and Azure II, completed in 2008 and 2009 respectively. The modern station practically tunnels through them. Back then, the area was rougher around the edges, heavily industrial, and completely devoid of the towering glass condominiums that dominate our waterfront today. This single image serves as a gritty reminder of the city we knew before the modern development boom swept the old skyline away.

Still, looking back at these snapshots makes me realize just how nice it is to be home. We have just returned from a month visiting Morocco, making the familiar concrete and glass of our own neighbourhood feel especially grounding. While I immensely appreciate that our retirement allows us to travel to warmer latitudes during the winter months, New Westminster has proven to be a thoroughly interesting and dynamic location to call home since 1996.

Authorized Generic Ozempic

​For the past two years, Ozempic has been highly effective maintenance; it dropped my A1c from a pre-diabetic 6.3 to a perfectly normal 5.6. While the clinical results have been steady, the financial relief that I experienced today at the local Walmart was a milestone I have been tracking for months. The generic rollout has been highly anticipated, and this morning, the supply chain finally delivered those savings directly to me.

​Because of Canadian government involvement, the cost of the brand-name drug here was always substantially cheaper than south of the border. It averaged around 250 CAD a month, which is a stark contrast to the punishing 900 USD (roughly 1,250 CAD) out-of-pocket costs routinely seen at American pharmacies.

​However, the real tipping point came down to an administrative blunder. Canada recently became the first G7 nation to authorize generic versions of semaglutide. This happened largely because Novo Nordisk notoriously failed to pay a 250 CAD patent maintenance fee back in 2019.

​That single missed payment caused their Canadian patent to lapse permanently. It opened the door for Health Canada to approve generics years before the US patent expires in 2032, and the financial impact on the ground is immediate and quite staggering.

​Let us look at the raw math for the standard 1.00 mg dose pen, drawn directly from my own purchase history at my uptown Walmart:

• ​March 2026: 246.12 CAD (173.53 USD) for Brand Name Ozempic
• ​Today: 89.39 CAD (63.02 USD) for Apotex APO-Semaglutide

​That is a 63.7% price drop. For anyone paying out of pocket, this changes the calculus entirely. Apotex clearly entered the Canadian market to aggressively undercut the brand name, rather than just offering a token discount. It is a brilliant bit of market disruption, and a very welcome break for the wallet.

A Tiny Bit of Routine is Healthy

Jay and I are officially back in our New Westminster apartment. After a month of navigating a time zone eight hours ahead and unpredictable transit systems, a little bit of routine is genuinely comforting. Waking up in our own bed and knowing exactly how the coffee maker works feels like a sudden luxury.

There is a distinct difference between enjoying a routine and living in a rut. I realize that people are entirely different and require different things from life to feel secure. Many individuals have strict financial, work, or family obligations that demand anchors in one specific place. Those realities are completely valid. However, I often think that living in a permanent rut is simply a life choice for a large number of people. They find a comfortable groove and eventually stop looking over the edge.

We appreciate the familiar rhythm of domestic life today; it started with running a few loads of laundry and hanging the clothes to dry in the sun on the balcony. Once that chore was underway, we made a run to the Langley Farm Market. Jay and I needed to restock our depleted supply of vegetables and fruit. I was delighted to discover we had returned right in time for fresh cherry season. Although the BC Okanagan is on the other side of the mountains, their harvest is readily for sale here as a local specialty, so we happily bought a lot. On the way back, we stopped at the uptown Walmart to purchase a few specific items missing from the refrigerator. These simple errands help us reset and unpack our thoughts along with our bags.

Got this because of the name. My paternal grandmother used to bake twisted bread called this. 

Yet, Jay and I always know that this comfort is merely a temporary pause. We actively decide to avoid the rut by choosing to live many different lives instead of just one. Our recent month in Morocco allowed us to discover new perspectives and rhythms that will always remain a part of us. These constant additions to our personal history mean we lead a richer existence than if we had simply stayed put. The absolute comfort of a predictable day and freshly dried laundry are certainly wonderful things. They just happen to be the perfect foundation for building whatever life we choose to live next.

The End of the Journey

We were first at our hotel buffet at 5:50 am.

Day 28 - Jay and I concluded our Moroccan journey on the tarmac in Casablanca with a textbook IT error. The airline swapped our aircraft but failed to transfer the seating manifest. This resulted in a two-hour delay and a fascinating display of administrative confusion. First, everyone waited an hour in the concourse while ground staff struggled with their screens. Eventually, those who had already boarded were forced to return to the terminal.

The captain came out to address the crowd during the initial wait. He bravely attempted to soothe the passengers but only spoke English; almost everyone else on the plane spoke French or Arabic. It was quite a choice in communication. The rest of the delay unfolded after the manual boarding system also failed. It is hard to believe the aviation system operated smoothly before the era of widespread IT networks.

Over the Atlantic two hours late out of Casablanca. 

This delay actually worked in our favor. We had a tedious four-hour layover scheduled in Montreal. The delay ate up that extra time, leaving us with a much better one-and-a-half hour connection. It was just enough time to collect our bags from the carousel and immediately hand them to a waiting attendant for security reasons. Going through the Montreal security check again was not a big deal.

A completely full flight from Montreal to Vancouver.  

The final, five-hour flight to Vancouver was packed. The transcontinental push is always an endurance test. However, it felt good knowing the two of us were finally heading to the West Coast.

Since we officially entered the country in Quebec, we sailed out of YVR after just a few minutes of waiting for our bags in the domestic section of the airport. Our Uber driver dropped us at our door in New Westminster at exactly 8:13 pm. Now the only things left of the trip are the new memories and a few loads of dirty laundry.