Breakfast With a Hurt Friend

The Canadians at the B&B breakfast table had just finished telling us that the Eastern Townships were one of the crown jewels of their country when they realized my wife, Diane, and I were American, not just inept French speakers.

There was a pause as everyone at the table decided what to say. It was our first morning at Auberge La Raveaudière, a small inn in North Hatley, in the corner of Quebec just above Vermont.

Around the table were two couples and twin sisters, all in their 50s and 60s, all exploring the region. Someone acknowledged the difficult period between our two countries, and the floodgates opened.

They talked about a country they had always felt close to, and how baffling it was to hear about tariffs and the talk of Canada as a 51st state. They used the word betrayal. They also told us they were working hard to direct that feeling at the government in Washington and keep it from Americans. Mostly we listened. It felt like sitting with a hurt friend.

Maple Syrup and Hockey Sticks

Their frustration has specifics behind it. In August, the United States put 50 percent tariffs on more than 500 kinds of Canadian goods, from cheese and alcohol to maple syrup and hockey equipment. The president has said tariffs on Canadian cars and auto parts will double to 50 percent on January 1. In a Pew Research Center survey earlier this year, 35 percent of Canadians called the United States a reliable partner, down from 83 percent in 2022, and only a third viewed it favorably. Most Americans don't feel the same way. In a poll this summer, 81 percent of Canadians described the relationship as negative, compared with 31 percent of Americans.

These were strong people, proud of their country and clear about its long history with ours. The hurt came from how much that friendship had meant to them. They made their point, and then they moved on. Within a few minutes, the table was telling us about their own towns and what we should go see.

That happened all week, in Knowlton and Sutton, in restaurants, coffee shops, and the bars where we stopped for a drink at the end of the night. People wanted to express their hurt, frustration, and anger, then tell us where to eat.

The Chairlift

We reached Sutton on the last weekend of the mountain's fall festival. We took the chairlift up Mont Sutton, hiked to the campground near the summit, and walked back down. We talked with people the whole way, which is hard to avoid on a chairlift. When it came out that we were American, the same conversation followed, and then everyone went back to the mountain.

There are smaller signs too. As expected, we couldn't find a bottle of American bourbon anywhere we went, and we looked. Quebec's liquor board pulled American alcohol from its shelves in March 2025, and aside from a one-time sale of older stock last winter, it hasn't returned. I love a great deal about Canada. Canadian whisky is not on that list.

The welcome is there for anyone who goes. Last year, hotels in the Townships were taking calls from Americans asking whether they were still welcome, and the region answered with an ad campaign inviting them to come hug it out. More Americans are making the trip now. According to Statistics Canada, their trips to Canada have risen year over year for eight straight months. Canadians have been coming back too, but more slowly. Their car trips to the United States in September were still down almost a third from two years earlier.

The Breakfast Table

The people we met did us a courtesy. They kept their argument with our government separate from us. We try to do the same when we travel to countries whose governments we disagree with.

Governments set their own timetable, and travelers don't have to wait for them. We can keep going. We can listen when someone needs to say something hard, and explain what we can about where we come from. Those conversations, at breakfast tables and on chairlifts, are how people in two countries stay connected while their governments argue.

Diane and I have been to Canada many times, yet we still feel as if we have only begun to explore this wonderful country. We left the Townships with a long list of places people told us we had to see. We got to about half of them, which seems like a good reason to go back.

by Paul M. Rand, founder and editor of Nomadic Spirit