Visiting Canada has always been a planned part of my project. The most important part of my research is speaking with the Ktunaxa community, hearing what they have to say, and grounding my research in their lived-in experiences. For months I anticipated my visit, waiting for it to finally arrive. Finally, not too long ago, I stepped off a plane in Calgary and boarded a connecting flight to a small city in the Canadian Rockies called Cranbrook. Population: 20,000 — and lots of trees.

I won't pretend the first few days were easy. Cranbrook is beautiful, but it is also, and I say this with great affection, very much not London, my home. The infrastructure assumes you have a car. The distances assume you have a car. Everything assumes you have a car. I do not have a car, and won't be eligible to rent one for another two years. Beyond the logistical culture shock, there was a quieter unease that comes from being somewhere unfamiliar, completely alone, for an extended period — especially as this was my first solo trip ever. No familiar faces, no familiar rhythms, just me, my laptop, and a research project that suddenly felt incredibly large and incredibly daunting.

Whilst uneasy in the first couple of days, I've learned something crucial about discomfort: it is not a signal to retreat, rather, it is a signal that something real is happening.

The Laidlaw programme talks about the three Cs — curiosity, collaboration, and courage. I came with curiosity in abundance and a genuine desire to collaborate. What I didn't anticipate was how much courage the whole thing would require. Not dramatic courage, but a quieter kind: the courage to walk into a room full of strangers and introduce yourself, to ask questions you're not sure if you're qualified to ask, and to trust that the preparation you've done is enough, and that you're up for the task.

After some time here, I'm happy to say something has shifted. What initially felt like overwhelm, stress, now feels like engagement. What first felt like isolation now feels like focus, and the uneasiness of those first few days has given way to something I can only describe as purpose — the quiet confidence that comes from knowing why you're somewhere, and believing the work matters, something I'm grateful to the Laidlaw programme for giving me.

Cranbrook is still very much a strange new world. But increasingly, strange new worlds, in my experience, are exactly where the most interesting things happen. It might be diplomatically questionable to quote a US President here, but to echo Theodore Roosevelt — nothing worth having comes easy.