My first time in Canada, the customs/immigration folks were stereotypically polite on our way in. We were an eclectic group, two Americans two Australians and a Brazilian. Canada was very welcoming. We got on the bus to go into town and the Brazilian guy for some reason had a Canadian $20 bill which he dutifully slid into the automatic fare box thing and then stood there, waiting for change. The bus driver pointed out the sign that says no change is to be given, which was of course upsetting. It was a 45 minute ride into the city. The bus driver had us sit in the front of the bus, and every time somebody got on at a stop, he stopped them from putting their fare into the box and asked them to hand it to my friend, explaining that he had accidentally overpaid. 100% of the bus riders did this without hesitation, and by the time we got to Victoria Paolo had all of his money back. No bus driver I've ever encountered in the US would have gone to that much trouble to get a foreign guy his money back.
Then, while wandering the city, the Aussies ran out of cigarettes. I don't recall the specifics, but apparently the types of businesses that you buy cigarettes in is different in Canada? We struck out at a couple of places and were standing on a street corner trying to figure out where to go when someone crossed the street to get to us, and said "Excuse me, do you all need to buy cigarettes?" She then helpfully pointed out the two closest businesses to buy them. She actually crossed the street to help strangers buy cigarettes. Who does that?
Everyone we met was friendly and welcoming, like disturbingly so, even the San Francisco-level amount of panhandlers in Victoria BC in 1999. One panhandler gave us directions after we declined to give her any money. Then it was time to go home. Canadian customs on the way out somehow became convinced that we had made the trip to smuggle cigarettes back to the US, and spent fifteen minutes loudly repeating variants of "yeah right, where did you hide all the cigarettes?" at us. We spent the ferry ride back to Friday Harbor talking about how disconcertingly polite and helpful everyone was, and also drinking beer. We were a little drunk when we finally got off the boat, but honestly it still felt just like home when the US immigration official at the dock grabbed her gun while cursing at us to stay behind the line until she told us to cross it.
Also, Boots is gonna fucking hate you when he sees you said something nice about Tim Horton's
So we're on our own for poutine pretzels then?
Just kidding, I love you, Boots!