Highway Hotline

For The Arbiter

We spent a week in Wakaw and enjoyed every bit of country living we could find. Home to roughly a thousand people, including our eldest sister and RCMP officer, the small town north of Saskatoon is nestled between scattered marshes, brightly coloured canola fields, and dusty roads.

Our days were jam-packed with local activities, but always began with a sleepy view of our parents weeding the dying garden early in the morning. Days usually ended by contemplating the meals we had consumed, some of which featured fresh lettuce from the neighbour’s vegetable patch, the darkest and fluffiest Russian bread we’d ever seen, Vietnamese vermicelli bowls from Mama Maria’s Pizzeria (one of the two local restaurants), zucchini marmalade, homemade perogies, and apple pie.

And when we weren’t eating, we got to float in the “Dead Sea of Canada”, shop at the Saturday farmers’ market, climb onto trains, see the new Spiderman film, sneak into a car junkyard near the Wakaw grain elevators, and jump onto a pile of torn up tires.

All and all, we left with full bellies, beeswax moisturizer bars, a hand-woven rug made of recycled Salvation Army clothing, and a whole bunch of mosquito bites. But it was worth it.

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