Tears trouble my nights. In the darkness of my room, every night, my last moments in France come back to me. Like birds signs of ill omens, there are haunting me. You are haunting me.

It has now been a week that I left home. My host family is welcoming and friendly; oddly, I already feel at home after I only spent three days here.

For my first day, I had a chance to breath Whitehorse’s open air by wandering around the paths in the surroundings, the ones which lead to the biggest wooden fishes’ ladder of the world. When you first come to Canada, everything seems disproportionate. Their roads are as large as our soccer fields, their cars can fit one of our cars in theirs trunks… and so their salmons are, while we are at it, as big as baby sharks! And by experience, I can tell that they are going farther than that… they seem to have delusions of grandeur. But in the meantime, they have enough materials to do so.

For my second daylight here, I was able to get a real first overview of the city, overview that keeps me quite skeptical. Concretely, there is to admit that the city itself has no charm. Lost somewhere in between Gold Rush and globalization, Whitehorse has the appearances of an industrial city. If the “downtown” kept -according to me- signs of the past with its hotels and bars, the place was gradually invaded by food chains, huge grocery stores… Somehow, it is a small town with a big city look; that is to say, nothing attractive. But as soon as our eyes go farther than the limits of the city, magic makes an appearance! The city is surrounded by small mounts on either sides. If the city is dull, its surroundings are shimmering.

Whitehorse is a grey stain in the middle of a greenery ocean.

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