Just because you've seen it before, doesn't mean you shouldn't look again.

When I was a kid, we didn't take a lot of long distances travels. It's not that we were a poor family, in fact in retrospect I don't think I realized just how "upper class" we actually were. But there were bills to pay, things to buy, especially for that spoiled brat of a kid my family had (read: me) and Dad's job kept him busy. So there weren't that many "Big" trips. That said I have a lot of family in the surrounding provinces, so there were a lot of trips to those places. With the exception of Newfoundland and Labrador (which for you Non-Canadians is only one province), I'm pretty sure I went to all the maritimes provinces once a year until I got to High school. And even then I know I visited Nova Scotia and many parts of New Brunswick every year, probably right up until I got here to the other side of the world. So I saw a lot of the Maritimes, and car rides started getting less interesting until I developed the two great talents of falling asleep in a moving vehicle (this got sketchy when I got my license) and more important to me, reading in a car.

One of those "larger" trips that my family took was to Cape Breton. My father's old stomping grounds. I was only somewhere between 8 and 10 and had already started on my lifelong obsession with swords, sorcery and spacemen. I remember Mom and Dad, Dad especially, being really excited about being able to show me some of my roots and the land my family came from. Unfortunately it didn't work out quite right, as demonstrated by one of my most famous quotes of childhood. We were driving along a winding highway with rolling green mountains on either side, and Mom turns to the back seat, where I'm thoroughly involved in the adventures of Luke Skywalker or some other equally fictitious world, and tells me that I should look out the window for the beautiful view. The conversation went something like this.

Jamie: (Still not looking up from his book) Is it a Mountain Mom?

Mom: ...Yes...

Jamie: Does it have trees, Mom?

Mom: ...Yes..

Jamie: I've seen it before.

And That conversation pretty much sums up how I felt about the Maritimes. Don't get me wrong here, I LOVE where I'm from. I'm proud to be from New Brunswick, I love the culture I grew up in, I mean I spent my last four summers working in a park that preserved and cherished just that. But at the same time, you get so used to it that you don't bother to look.

So here I am on the other side of the world, and I'm thinking about that mountain. I'm thinking about walking downtown Fredericton on a sunny Saturday afternoon after a trip to the Famer's market, listening to the snare drums of the city guard in Officer's square while I breeze comes off the river. I think of the days wandering through Citadel Hill or Halifax harbor. I remember running through the woods with Matt, or diving off the roof into the snow as a kid. The smell of the ocean or the site of the boats docked, The stars from my backyard. Kitchen parties and diving into the river at the Landing with Luke after hours. God, the Landing. Walking that sleepy little farm village in the nighttime was awe inspiring, the stars reflecting off of Lake Fundy. I walked by all of these things everyday and I thought they were great and beautiful but I never took the time to stop and appreciate them. And now I'm on the other side of the world and I love it, but I miss hearing the snares in the square. I miss seeing the sails on the water and hearing the fiddles and guitars.

My brother Kevan is a musician, and In my early teens he started to make a switch from rock and jazz influenced works, to more celtic, folk rock and definately maritime inspired works. I didn't get it back then, even after I fell in love with Kev's work in my college years, It seemed like just a choice of preference. I get it now.

So this is my advice. Wherever you're from, wherever you're going, take some time with it. Realize how unique and special that it actually is because you might find yourself in a place where it will be a long time before you can see it again.

Just because You've seen it before, doesn't mean you shouldn't take the time to look at it again.