-by Sanna McGregor

Tourists don't often get the chance to really get a feel for the places we visit. Brief stops are defined by visitor centres, crowded attractions, absent sign posting, and the people we meet in shops and hostels. That has been much of my Canadian experience so far. As a visitor to this country I have the claim to an outsider's more objective lens, as well as a disclaimer for imperfect vision. In visiting Owen Sound I've had the good fortune of staying with local friends deeply involved in their community and the world at large. Conversations suddenly expand beyond the 'where are you from' and 'how long are you visiting' pleasantries to comparative questions of social norms, penal systems, or electoral structures. These discussions are often hinged on observed differences in lifestyles and communities, sparking reflection on how my perspective on Owen Sound yields insight.
First impressions of people supposedly form in eight seconds; roughly a day can show the superficial characteristics of a town.Upon arrival, after riding up with a stranger's homeward bound family, the sunshine showed the quaint, friendly core of Owen Sound. Teens dove into the shimmering blue bay, petting dogs made small talk easy, and all was abuzz with the upcoming Summerfolk. This is the quaint idyll presented by a town overtly proud of its heritage – with industrial landmarks a European city would have long since demolished and information boards about even things that are gone – and its role as a homey hub for all those who decided to leave. Perhaps Summerfolk is the annual pinnacle of this migratory behaviour, but it impresses a stranger nonetheless with locals' strong sense of roots and belonging. A sense that was present in many of those I met as a volunteer at the festival, which was filled with characters as diverse as the history of this town.
Whether they were attending for the first, fifth, or fortieth time, Summerfolk is characteristic of Owen Sound because people return to it. And at it they mix with familiar and foreign faces. I met broke Germans, famous Christmas Clauses, radio personalities, lots of people with heritage in my homeland of Holland, and innumerable variations on (mainly male) facial hair. People who sport NDP, Liberal, or Conservative signposts in their yards stood around chatting over beer and a 'happy Summerfolk'. These are the celebrations that bring communities together, though it is perhaps the kind of environment in which difficult conversations are avoided. It's when arson comes up over a supermarket till that even a tourist can taste the effect of individual actions on a community, and its deeper personality shines through the first impression.
First impressions don't show the half-empty malls, only picturesque down town. These impressions don't show internal dissent, only the smiling group photographs. Just as they don't show election results, only campaign adverts; they don't show post-penal integration, only judgement. They don't show community, only city. Straying a little longer here has allowed me to hear of these things, form second and third impressions, and engage in conversations about issues of local importance. It's clear to me, at least, that Owen Sound has its presentation down to a T: first impressions are welcoming and exquisite. What I couldn't yet say is whether a better acquaintance, or a deeper conversation, especially in such community-defining times, would foster a more or less positive picture.

Sanna McGregor is a recent university graduate from Amsterdam visiting Grey-Bruce this summer.