I booked my flight thinking I'd already seen snow in Tokyo, so how different could it be? Then I stepped outside in Montréal, and the cold went straight through me like my coat wasn't even there. Yuuki flat out refused to leave the backpack for the first two hours, which was honestly the most reasonable reaction of our whole trip.

What surprised me was how alive the Canadian winter is. People are outside, the markets are open, the patios are heated and packed. In Québec City, I walked through Old Québec under a light snowfall, the lit-up facades reflecting on the frozen cobblestones, and I understood why Quebecers are proud of their winter instead of embarrassed by it. The secret, someone once told me, is to dress in layers. I swear, it changes everything.

I waited three nights in the cold before I finally saw the northern lights. On the fourth night, by a frozen lake in the Laurentides, they appeared out of nowhere, green and silent. Yuuki had finally agreed to come out of the bag, and the two of us just stood there without moving, his ears pointed at the sky. I don't know what he made of it all, but he didn't move for ten minutes, which for him is an eternity.