The Diceman Does Canada: Poutine, Pints & Polite Chaos
It started, like always, with a roll of the dice.
1–3, I head somewhere warm — palm trees, piña coladas, and questionable sunscreen decisions.
4–6? I go north. Way north.
Flannel shirts. Moose crossings. Pancakes with patriotism. The Great White Bloody North.
The dice rolled a six. So I packed my thermals and my thirst for trouble and headed straight for Canada.
Day 1: Toronto – Welcome to the North, Baby
I land in Toronto, Canada’s biggest city and home to skyscrapers, street art, and locals who’ll apologise for bumping into you.
Roll of the dice:
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1–3 = visit the CN Tower and take in the skyline.
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4–6 = find the most chaotic dive bar within walking distance.
Six. The Diceman doesn’t do scenic when there’s chaos on offer.
I end up in Kensington Market, sipping some experimental Canadian craft beer with a hint of pine and regret. A guy named Tyler tells me he once saw Drake at the gas station. I pretend to care.
At 2 a.m., someone hands me poutine from a food truck. Fries, cheese curds, gravy. I weep. It’s beautiful.
Day 2: Niagara Falls – Nature’s Waterpark on Steroids
Time for a proper sight. The dice demand motion.
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1–3 = take a respectful, scenic boat tour of Niagara Falls.
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4–6 = hop on the front deck, get absolutely soaked, and yell like a lunatic.
Five. Obviously.
Within minutes I’m on the Maid of the Mist, wearing a blue plastic poncho, getting power-washed by the gods. I scream, laugh, and possibly swallow part of a rainbow.
Afterwards, I hit a casino across the border, lose $40 at blackjack, and win two friends from Saskatchewan who invite me to a barbecue “next time I’m in the prairie.” Deal.
Day 3–4: Banff – Mountains, Moose & Madness
Time to get wild. I fly west to Alberta, roll the dice again:
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1–3 = rent a cabin and write poetry by a lake.
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4–6 = hike until something bites me.
Six. Glorious.
I hit Banff National Park, and it’s like Mother Nature’s showing off. Mountains so sharp they could cut through your hangover. Lakes bluer than my ex’s texts. I join a group hike. Everyone’s fit. I pretend I don’t want to die.
Later, I jump in Lake Louise because the dice tell me to. It’s glacial. My organs file a complaint. Worth it.
That night I find a bar in Banff town where the locals serve whisky with a side of "moose stories." I roll to decide if I should ride a mechanical bull. Six again. Let’s just say I didn’t last long, but I made it memorable.
Day 5: Montreal – Croissants, Chaos & Confusion
Final stop: Montreal — where French meets Canadian and the result is cheese, chaos, and hot people smoking hand-rolled cigarettes.
The dice offer two paths:
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1–3 = take a food tour, eat sensibly, behave.
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4–6 = chase live jazz, drink strong cocktails, and mispronounce French badly.
Six. My liver groans. My soul rejoices.
Montreal by night is a fever dream in neon and saxophone solos. I end up in a speakeasy with velvet wallpaper, drinking maple syrup Old Fashioneds and pretending to be a travel writer named François. It works.
At 4 a.m., I eat a smoked meat sandwich the size of my head. I’m not okay. But I’m happy.
Reflections from the Land of Moose & Mayhem
Canada isn’t just polite. It’s massive, messy, and mischievous if you scratch beneath the maple glaze. From ice-cold lakes to lava-hot dancefloors, this place has it all — and it delivered it straight to my pint glass.
The dice didn’t lead me wrong. They led me very right into waterfalls, whisky, wild animals, and weirdos I’ll never forget.
Next stop? Who knows.
But if the flag’s waving and the bar’s open, you can bet the Diceman’s rolling in.
— The Diceman