Is this how they feel ALL THE TIME?

I'm a Canadian who was born in Vancouver, and a have been a BC resident all my life. I've never lived further than 20 minutes away from the Pacific Ocean, and always in sight of the Coast Mountains - here in south-western BC: truly the most beautiful place on earth.

I enjoyed the past few weeks more than I ever thought possible.  The Olympics, the athletes, volunteers and organisers have inspired me more than I can describe.

I feel so darned patriotic.  So proud and lucky to have been born and live in this great country.  The flag makes me happy; the national anthem makes my heart swell; and I think that the rest of the world must be jealous.  Everyone must want to live here now.  How could they not?
I want to wear red and white every day.  I want to tell everyone in bloggie land which country I come from, and I fully expect the congratulatory comments to come rolling in. (Tongue only partly in cheek)

This plethora of pervasive patriotic pride is a true delight;  it has seeped into my bones, filled my heart, and lightened my soul.
As I ponder this magical and unaccustomed glow a thought strikes me....

Is this how Americans feel ALL THE TIME?

The Accidental "O" Fan

In case you were unaware of it, the 2010 Winter Olympic Games are being hosted by Vancouver and Whistler BC, Canada.
I was fairly neutral about us hosting the Olympics - I liked the thought of showing off our beautiful province to the rest of the world, but I knew the cost would be extraordinary.  The  security budget alone would be enough to run a small country.  We have homeless people here, and goodness knows the money could be spent on them, or on healthcare, education, etc.
BUT

I am a bit of a sucker for amazing athletes striving to be the best, national anthems (especially sung by children),  medals, crowds, excitement, tears, jubilation, triumph, understated national pride (well we ARE Canadian), and all that good stuff. 

Today I was messing about in the kitchen, listening to my Ipod.  Suddenly, above the noise of my tunes, I heard a noise outside.  Some sort of loudspeaker, coming from behind our house.  There is a small ravine and forest between our house and the main street behind it, so most of the normal traffic noise is buffered, but the loudspeaker broke through - right through my closed, double-paned kitchen windows.

At first I thought the neighbour kids were playing the radio on their outdoor speakers, but I soon realized that the sounds I heard were LIVE.

I wondered what it could be, and then had an epiphany.  Turned off the stove, grabbed my house keys and camera, and went out the front door.  I was still wearing my slippers, but didn't want to take time to find socks and put on shoes.

I walked around the block towards the main street and noticed that a crowd had gathered. 

"Did I miss it?", I asked a man who was holding his two young sons.
"No", he said, "Here it comes now!"

And there it was.

First this:

and then this:

and then people started to step out into the street...

and then THIS!

Holy Cow!  An Olympic torch bearer.  Running with a torch - carrying a flame that's burned continuously all the way from Athens, Greece.  For thousands of miles.  Carried and shared by hundreds of people.

He was 10 feet away from me.  Wearing that white (for snow) suit, and those red (for Canada) mittens, with traffic stopped in both directions, and hundreds of people cheering and taking pictures.

It was kind of special.

and then he was gone.  Running on to pass the flame to the next torch bearer.

I felt a surge of emotion, and fought to hold back tears. 

Tell me, is this national pride....

or have I started menopause?