If you go to Nova Scotia

Here’s how to blend in:

1. Don’t eat lobster at a restaurant. That’s all butter, no sea lice taste. You get lobster off the boat. You eat the whole lobster, not just the claws and tail. Suck the juice from the legs because you’re a goddamn savage and don’t want anything to go to waste.

Always comment that you ate it all except for the poison sac behind the creature’s brain.

2. Do not wince as you tear into dulce. Don’t call it seaweed if you expect to go undetected. As you chew, always comment that it’s full of iodine.

3. Acceptable banter for any dining occasion: “I’m so hungry, I’d eat the ass out of a skunk.” If in a rural area, you may call the utensils forks and knives, but call them “eatin’ irons” and they’ll never suspect you weren’t born in Caledonia.

4. Don’t say you love fish. Say halibut, trout, or smoked salmon. When someone smokes you a salmon, by law you are required to say, “Tastes like cake!” Do not ask for a Montreal bagel to put under said salmon. It’s not the same thing and you’re in Nova Scotia now.

(Note: It tastes great, but it does not, in fact, taste like cake.)

You will be attending many bean suppers to support your local volunteer fire department. The towns may be small, but they’re decked out with firefighting equipment to rival any major city. The firehall siren will go off each day at noon to (a) test it, and (b) let you know it’s noon.

5. You do not go to the store. You go down to the store or up to the store. Also, locations are not “across the street.” They are always, “right across the street.”

Nova Scotian roads wind, so however long you think any trip will take, it’ll take longer and maybe all day in the winter. In rural areas, you will be required to navigate your route by barns, as in, “Take a left at the old Seliq barn and turn right again before you see the Rawding’s place.”

Yes, getting a direction by a landmark you do *not* see is considered helpful and neighborly. Be careful about asking for directions. You live here. You should already know who everyone is and where everything is, anyway.

6. You go to the woods, not the bush. At a beach party, you will be required to comment that a campfire smells better using driftwood for fuel. If by the Bay of Fundy, you will have to mutter, “highest tides in the world.”

7. Sure is not pronounced “Shur.” It’s pronounced “shore,” with emphasis on the “ore.”

When agreeing with an Acadian, don’t say, “Oui,” as if you’re in Paris. In Acadian French, it’s pronounced more duck-like. “Wheh, wheh, wheh!” Always thrice, and sell it with enthusiasm.

To appear agreeable after any assertion, say, “Yeah,” once or twice, but rising on the in-breath. This takes practice, but you’ll hear it everywhere.

You’re trying it right now, aren’t you?

Note: While always acceptable to appear agreeable, new information is to be treated with suspicion. A good rule is, if you haven’t heard something many times, don’t introduce a new thought. You’ll blow your cover.

8. To throw minor shade: “He’s come from away.” This means, “not a Maritimer for two generations.” You could be born in Toronto and live in the Annapolis Valley for 20 years and you’ll still be “that Tronna fella.”

More shade: Call someone an S.O.B. (*not* son of a bitch). This is never to be said to someone’s face, always behind the back. That would be considered impolite unless they’re family, in which case you can be as cruel as you want and call it “just teasin’.”

Highest compliment, “He did well.” “Did well,” means somebody is an S.O.B., but with money.

9. Speak quickly from the back of your throat. Acceptable topics: The weather and town gossip. Until you die, throw in, “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.” (This is the height of hilarity.)

That’s about it for topics, though knowing the names of several varieties of apples not commonly found in stores is good. Talk about grafting and you’ll end up marrying someone from Nova Scotia who wears tall rubber boots every day.

10. To really fit in, memorize “Farewell to Nova Scotia.” Sound wistful. Call it God’s Country a lot and enthuse about foghorns. They’re also suckers for Stan Rogers singing “Barret’s Privateers.”

Okay…*everybody* should be a sucker for this song. It’s great!