The wind tugs my hair out from under my hat and whips it with a snap across my face. The wind is arctic, condensing my breath into tiny ice crystals which cling to my eyelashes like icicles hanging off the eaves of a cottage, also inconveniently making my nose do an instant Rudolf impression, lighting up like a light bulb. Welcome to Canada After going through the usual palaver of the airports such as ambushing your bag on the conveyor belt and being jostled by others who are also trying to waylay their luggage as it disappears down the conveyer belt,
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