VANCOUVER — Canadian customs agents didn’t know what to make of me.

“You came all this way… for just one night?”

Her tone said it all. Behind her cubicle, doubt rose. No business trip. No wedding. No family reunion. Just a solo traveler with a small suitcase, a backpack and a weirdly specific mission: get to Vancouver, even if only for 24 hours.

She wasn’t wrong to question it. A one-night international trip, squeezed between hostels, work shifts and parenting duties, isn’t exactly normal.

But that was the point.

The customs agent couldn’t grasp the curiosity that had lived in me for two decades . Neither could the special agent she sent me to — the one who gave my luggage the most thorough search I’ve ever experienced.

I hadn’t realized how intimidating border crossings can be whe

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