Canada | #05 | Can More

Last updated on September 1, 2026

17th of June 2026 to 31st of August 2026

Approximate reading time: 20 minutes

Lets get it started

It has been quite a while since I’ve updated this blog.

And honestly, it has been quite a rodeo.

Arriving here in Canmore, starting my new job while still living in a tent, never really knowing if or when I would find a place to stay. A place I could actually afford. A place with a proper shower, a proper bed, and walls around me. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to sleep in a tent that is actually smaller than your average toilet.

Sleeping between a railway and a highway. Solitude par excellence for just 35 CAD a night.

Camping seems to be about the one thing we are all looking for.

Silence. Nature. Homemade coffee.

And fresh-caught salmon cooked in a pan, looking like something straight out of an Instagram post.

Well… I usually had ready-to-go sandwiches from the store and a can of beer. Canmore Brewing Company, of course. I am loyal — and I also want to know the product I’m packaging.

But more about this whole camping setup soon.

Right now, I’m sitting in this apartment in Canmore that I kind of found. Or maybe it somehow found me. More on that later, too.

I’m sharing it with Sammy, my partner, and Annika, a Canadian girl with Danish roots. And we pay 2,600 CAD per month, which translates to roughly €1,600.

I remember supporting a friend years ago when he moved from Jena — the town where I studied and lived for nine years — to Erfurt. He moved into a huge old Altbau apartment, and he told me they were paying roughly €2,000 a month.

Back then, I was absolutely shocked.

Now we’re paying almost the same amount of money for a much, much smaller apartment.

To be fair, we have an amazing view. And we are incredibly lucky to have found a safe place to stay in Canmore. Looking for accommodation here feels a bit like playing the lottery — and the odds are definitely not in your favor.

We see the enormous mountains. The sunsets. The nature.

And the highway.

The highway that seems to want to tell us:

“Hey guys, nature is amazing! Just crossing your way here and making some noise to affect your sleep and peace – you can not avoid human technology and the way forward. Always forward. Faster. Louder. Higher. Bigger”

Well, it’s a downer, for sure.

But it takes me five minutes to get to work by bike. Second-hand, of course. The brakes don’t work properly, they squeeze. But it does the job. And I’m definitely not taking it downhill or off-road.

So there’s that.

Right now, I’m sitting in this very apartment, windows closed, looking at those very mountains and that very highway.

I’ve just come back from a big party at my workplace. They call it the Backlot Bash. An annual event with live music, lots of people, lots of beer, and lots of fun.

An open brewery.

People actually walk through the very place where I work day by day. The place we spent days cleaning up, making sure everything was organized, tidy, ready to show, ready to go.

A place that is usually filled with three people.

Today, there were 300. Maybe even more.

And I went there after a week of hustling. A week of working towards this very event. A week of being excited about it.

And today?

I was exhausted. Sick. Completely drained.

I stayed for about an hour.

Then I went home.

Overwhelmed. Stressed out. Feeling like the world was just a little too much.

And now I’m sitting here, listening to the background noise of horsepower, looking at these gigantic piles of rock, and feeling something I can’t quite put into words.

Somewhere between wanting to run away and wanting to run towards something.

And maybe that’s the weirdest part of all of this.

Because from the outside, this whole thing probably looks amazing. From your phone. While sitting on the toilet, or checking while watching a movie you have seen already ten times. Or just after waking up and still having this kinda dust in your eyes.

Canada. Canmore. The Rocky Mountains. A new job. Camping. Beer. Sunsets. Adventure.

All the things you see in those „carefully“ selected social media posts.

But let me tell you something about those posts:

They don’t show you shit.

They just show you a small part of reality – like every other social media post out there.

They don’t show you the struggles.

The arguments. The sleepless nights. The financial stress. The day-to-day work that somehow never seems to stop. The exhaustion. The feeling of being rejected.

Of not being enough.

Of loosing friendships and family.

Of trying too hard and, at the same time, feeling like you’re not trying hard enough.

They don’t show you the constant doubt that somehow exists alongside a strange kind of confidence.

The endless thoughts about what comes next.

Where do I go from here? What am I actually doing? What am I working towards?

Would the things I think I am working towards to actually become reality and if so, will they make me „happy“?

Those social media post don’t show you the me searching for something to do after work that I can actually afford.

The visa struggles of my partner.

The uncertainty. The waiting. The frustration. The additional expenses out of the sudden.

And on and on and on.

Social media is a bitch.

Social media is a lie.

Social media is, if it is something, just a minor, fucking tiny part of something we call reality.

Of something bwe base our next steps, our feelins, our thoughts, and mostly important, our decicions on.

It doesn’t show you shit.

And the worst part?

I know that.

I know that the picture is never the whole story. I know that the people I see travelling, exploring, living their „best lives“ are probably dealing with their own shit that I know nothing about. I do not know shit either.

And still, I envy them.

I scroll through their posts and think: Look at them. Look at where they are. Look at what they’re doing. Look at what they have. Why am I not doing that?

Even though I know better.

Even though I know I’m doing exactly the same thing.

So here I am, writing a blog update about how social media do not show you shit — while secretly „wishing“ my own life looked a little more like the shit people post on social media.

What a hypocritical way to start a blog update – but this blog is not classic social media. Lets be classic German. Straightforward.

Honest.

And talk stuff people do not wanna hear – but probaply need to hear, including myself.

Camping in the right spot

But let’s get back to the start — back to where we left off in the last blog post update.

I arrived in Calgary in mid-June and, after some hassle at the airport getting my luggage, stayed in a hotel for a couple of days. After that, I made my way by bus to Canmore, around one hour away from Calgary. Without any accommodation sorted.

And I had already been looking for ages.

So, I had to stay at the local campground, which is located peacefully at one end of town, squeezed between the railway and the highway. And this local campground has a policy: first come, first served. You are only allowed to stay for five days — plus an additional two if you behave. After that, you have to leave for a couple of days before coming back. And then you have to be lucky enough for a spot to be available again.

Fortunately, I was lucky. Tent spots were available, so I set up my shelter. Fortunately, I had brought my tent with me.

My companion. My home. My shelter. My roof.

Just enough space to sleep in. Just enough to protect me from the outside dangers and the wildlife.

And yellow!

And waterproof!

And I paid $35 CAD per night. Not for the comfort. Not for breakfast buffets or graveyard silence. But simply for having a space to stay.

Fortunately, I ended up talking to the staff member who was living next to me and explained my situation. I was then allowed to stay until I had my accommodation sorted — which was only two weeks after I arrived in Canmore.

However, this experience was a real eye-opener. Being between jobs, living in a tent and trying to spend time outside while also eating healthy, smelling decent and staying clean is a huge challenge.

I never really felt like I wasn’t sorted, washed or fed. But I could definitely feel how much I was longing for silence. For privacy. For my own hot shower. And for a washing machine.

And I was lucky enough to find accommodation here in Canmore from July 1 onwards.

An apartment.

With a washing machine. A dryer. A dishwasher. And a bed that had been left behind by the previous tenant.

When I moved in with the help of my colleague Stacey, we also found a free leather couch!

And I do not kid you — I stayed home for the whole day when I moved in.

And I am still so very grateful for that washing machine. That dryer. That dishwasher. This comfort. This shelter. This safety.

This home.

A place where I can cook, bake and snooze. Somewhere I can sort myself out, organise my stuff and store my food. Somewhere I can stay inside when the weather outside is shit, shit, shit.

Which, to be fair, does not happen very often here in Canmore. But here is the pitfall – apparently Canmore is one of the most expensive towns in whole Canada – of course. Why should it be different this time?

Brew-Tality

I never thought I would be working in a brewery.

I never thought I would call myself a Cellar Hand / Brewery Assistant, working in a mountain town, surrounded by huge fermentation and brite tanks. Filled with thousands of litres of different beers.

Being in between.

And the start was so very exciting.

I learned a lot about the brewing process. About the packaging process. About how much you actually move stuff over and over and over again. And about how to set up all the different lines.

From the hot water tank towards the tanks. From the tanks towards the packaging line. Towards the canning machine. The kegging machine.

And then from there into the cans and kegs.

And into the cold room.

Sounds easy.

But it is a shit ton of work.

They say working in a brewery is 10% about the actual production process and 90% cleaning, moving, filling and manual labour.

And about moving stuff in and out of the cold room.

In and out.

In and out.

Playing Tetris with pallets full of cans or kegs, weighing around 1,000 kg. Lifting them up with the forklift while you do not really have a lot of space to move — either with the forklift or with the pallet.

If you do not pay enough attention, you might lose a pallet.

Worth thousands of dollars.

You might hit some walls. Knock over even more cans and kegs.

Well, at least the forklift has a stable roof made out of solid metal that hopefully keeps me safe and alive. 🙂

After a couple of weeks of learning, working and also drinking them beers, I can finally feel some kind of day-to-day routine developing in the brewery.

I can work by myself now. I do not need to ask for every single task what needs to be done, how it needs to be done and why. I understand the processes, can support with brewing and quality control, and can set up the whole packaging line myself.

Of course, every now and then I still need to ask about a process. About the why.

And sometimes I just need a hand.

Or a break.

Packaging days can be long and exhausting.

Even though the process is mostly automated, we still have to watch the canning line, move the heavy kegs, refill the can filler, put lids on each pack of four cans, move them by hand into a cardboard flat, stack them onto a pallet, wrap them up and move them.

All while the canning line, the vibration of the can platform and the filling station play an orchestra of different sounds.

And you smell the beer.

Consistently.

And when the canning line does not want to work, there is beer everywhere.

It is sticky.

And at the end of a packaging day, you are covered in beer.

You are the sticky one.

And probably also the stinky one.

Working in a brewery sounds romantic, exciting and diverse.

And all of those statements are true.

But it is also a tough, repetitive and sometimes seemingly endless job that requires a lot of attention, a lot of hygiene and quite a bit of brainpower.

Because you want to make sure that you do not open the wrong valve. That your pipes are properly sanitised. That your beer is carbonated. That you do not package yeasty beer. And that you try to make the most out of every single tank.

There is a lot going on behind those cans you eventually see in the fridge.

And somebody has to make sure the beer actually gets in there.

The Outdoor Life

So, while I started working at this very brewery, I was already getting the apartment ready for Sammy to arrive.

Sorting out some furniture. Some household items. And, of course, some decoration.

Fortunately, a friend of mine from Germany was visiting Canada and came over to Canmore for a couple of days. We went for a hike, had some beers at the brewery, and she used the opportunity to go on some paragliding missions around the area.

And in exchange for giving her some free accommodation for a couple of days, I asked her to help me pick up Sammy from the airport.

Fair deal, I would say.

So we waited for her with a huge banner covered in some Shrek-related statements, before bringing her safely home.

Into our new home.

For now.

Again surrounded by huge mountains. And living in one of the most expensive towns in the country.

Which is something we were already used to from New Zealand, so I guess we kind of know this rodeo by now.

And from then on, Canmore became a little bit more exciting for me as well.

We would sometimes hang out by the river after work. Go for a cold dip. Ride our bikes. Or just grab a coffee somewhere in town.

And while we used the weekends for little trips, a big bike mission to Banff and back, some hikes up into the mountains, and even being tourists ourselves while sitting on a bus with 50 other people…

Sammy recently started another journey.

Since a couple of weeks, we have been running together and training towards a half marathon that will take place here in Canmore on September 13th.

And right now, we have been training for one month.

One month only!

And she is doing so very well.

Not the fastest. Not the furthest. But steady and consistent.

Not giving up when feeling shitty.

Having some good running shoes.

Hoka, of course. What else?

And some fucking bloody nice running socks. Dinosaur style.

And she even gets up early in the morning to go for a run with me.

To be fair, I have not been running for a very long time either. And training with Sammy gives me an excuse to go for a run.

Motivation is definitely the better word.

And yes, her pace is much slower than my comfortable pace.

But we run together.

And I see her struggle.

I see her fight. I see her sweat. I see her when she is about to give up.

But I also see her win. I see her keep going.

And I am looking forward to finishing her first half marathon side by side.

And having some good food and drinks afterwards.

And probably keep training for something more?

Who knows.

What else to say?

Looking back at the beginning of this blog, there were quite some intense statements.

About what people do not see.

What we usually show on social media.

What we do not show.

What we do not share.

What we do not put out into this world.

Maybe because of guilt?

Because of shame?

Because of this narrative we have about ourselves?

Because of what we think other people might think about us?

And because we feel like we have to keep this picture alive?

Maybe because we want to see ourselves the same way we think other people see us?

The more I keep writing about this, the more confusing it gets.

Maybe most people think much less about others than we think they do.

Not out of arrogance.

Not because they are not interested enough.

But because this is just what we do.

We focus on our own shit.

Our struggles. Our demons. Our narratives. Our doubts.

And our challenges with life.

Right now, our challenge is another visa and immigration challenge.

Which also becomes a financial challenge.

And somehow a challenge for our relationship as well.

Because it puts a lot of pressure on our shoulders.

We decided to stay longer than originally planned. And since Sammy is here on a visitor visa at the moment, she is not allowed to work in Canada.

Fortunately, she is still allowed to work remotely for New Zealand companies as a landscape designer.

However, welcome to the reality of life: this is not a full-time option. And socially, it can be quite challenging as well.

So, we decided that it made sense for her to apply for a Working Holiday Visa for Canada. And we would simply stay until my own visa expires.

But Immigration was probably already laughing in the background.

It would not be our first immigration, what the fuck? story.

If you apply for a Working Holiday Visa while already being in Canada, you have to physically leave the country and come back in order to activate the visa.

The United States does not count.

Which means she has to fly somewhere like Europe or Mexico and then come back to Canada in order to activate her visa.

Which does not make sense from so many perspectives.

Financial perspectives included.

So here we go again, Immigration.

Just another brick in the wall.

This visa situation, combined with her current work reality and the financial challenges of living in Canmore, has already put us in several difficult situations.

And arguments.

With both sides having their own reasoning.

And both sides having the right to be heard.

But since I have been in Canmore, I have been facing the reality of providing for two people.

Of providing for „my family“.

And feeling the pressure on both of our shoulders, while our backpacks are simply filled with different weights.

And while feeling this pressure, trying to navigate work, a healthy lifestyle and an outdoor life, I can feel how it takes away important energy.

And joy.

And somehow it creates even more pressure.

Because on our weekends, I try to make sure we have adventures.

That we get out of town.

Which is not always easy without a car.

And that we make „the most“ out of our Canadian adventure. While sometimes „the most“ could be actually just a walk by the river, a morning run with a coffee afterwards or a movie on a rainy day staying inside and eating burgers, chips and chocolate all day long.

So, back to the beginning.

And back to social media.

We usually do not show the struggles.

The challenges. The stress. The arguments. The doubts. The exhaustion. The tears.

We show the nature.

The smiles. The good food. The adventures.

We show the things we would probably envy if we saw them in somebody else’s story.

And yet, we envy those very people while looking at their stories, even though we know that this is only part of their reality.

And reality in Canada is that it is a beautiful, exciting and unique adventure.

It is full of learnings.

Possibilities. Good people. Good food. Good drinks. And good moments.

But it is also full of challenges.

Stress. Doubts. Sleepless nights spent figuring out visa and immigration issues.

Dealing with additional financial struggles.

Trying to navigate an international relationship.

And eventually facing the question:

Where to?

Because maybe that is what this whole journey is really about.

Not just finding another beautiful place to live.

But trying to figure out where we want to be.

Where we can be.

Where we are allowed to be.

And whether those places are actually the same.

And for now, I honestly do not have an answer.

And maybe that is okay.

Maybe the answer will come.

Eventually.

See you next time

Your DingyInternational
Felix