San Funcisco

As a proud Canadian, I often find myself comparing my home and native land to our neighbours (yes, I said neighbOUrs) to the South. I devour beaver tails, end my sentences with "eh," and wear toques with pride. 

Fresh from our national day of bragging (July 1^st),  I traded in my Canadian gear to live life like a California girl—the Beach Boys type not the Katy Perry type. 

Our beach boys at Half Moon Bay

My family, and I mean the whole family, descended on Fremont, California for an engagement party of epic proportions. As they say, everything is bigger in Amurrica and in traditional American style, this reunion was supersized. 

My mother comes from a family of four sisters, one brother, and a whole lot of love. What this adds up to—aside from enormous phone bills—is family reunions that feel like an invasion of people of all shapes and sizes, ranging in age from two to 81.

We rode roller coasters on the Santa Cruz boardwalk, braved the hills and chills of San Fran and wandered into the fog on the Golden Gate Bridge, but the main attraction of this trip was the family. 

Getting that many people together is just a recipe for happy chaos. My little cousins made music videos on their iPods while my aunts chatted excitedly about any and all things at maximum volume. My uncles shared beers and business talk while first and second cousins crammed in as much catching-up as the night would allow. All together, the dull roar of conversations, laughter, and the occasional argument that accompanies our family get-togethers is a noise that can make anywhere, whether it's Canada, or California, sound like home.