Hamilton Spectator

I'm sitting in a small, dirty room, on the floor, swigging a cola and chatting with a Yemeni I see for Arabic lessons. It's my first visit to his place, and he's given the pop -- in one of those old, glass bottles from the '70s -- to make me feel welcome.

So where were you on the Sunday when Canada took back a piece of its soul? I heard you danced on that bright afternoon when our boys struck hockey gold for the first time in 50 years. Coast to snowy coast, 10 million of you including Parliament itself, waltzed in the afterglow.

One has to admire Pontius Pilot, the Roman procurator who may share responsibility for history's biggest execution, but who also wouldn't budge when pressured by his editors wanting him to change his headline.

Today is Day 8 of my life as a foreigner in Yemen. I'm in a dilapidated cargo office at the international airport in Sanaa, a capital city that sits on a mountain plateau 2,000 metres above sea level. Almost one million souls live here in what is one of the oldest inhabited regions of the world. I think I'm the only one wearing a Team Canada cap.