I thought I knew what to expect when I moved from Kyiv to small-town Ontario, but I was wrong.
Four years ago, I swapped high-speed European city life for St. Marys, Ontario. I was convinced that life in a small Canadian town would be slow, quiet and predictable. I knew the postcard highlights — like the famous St. Marys Quarry and historic river trails —but behind the scenic views, I pictured endless monotony and early retirement.
But small-town Ontario life has more to it than that, and a lot of it came as a surprise. It turns out local secrets and culture shocks were waiting for me around every corner.
Driving is practically a wellness retreat
Strolling through the charming stone-built streets of St. Marys.
Public transit isn't a thing in St. Marys, so having a vehicle is a non-negotiable. This meant I had to completely relearn life behind the wheel.
Driving in Kyiv felt like playing Mario Kart on hard mode with endless traffic jams, zero patience and scary lane changes. In St. Marys, driving is so gentle it's practically a wellness retreat. Drivers actually smile and wave you ahead at four-way stops, nobody rides your bumper, and the most aggressive driver I've encountered so far is a Canada goose casually blocking traffic on Main Street.
Where are the fences?
Trying to slow down in Ontario small town.
One of the funniest culture shocks was the total lack of front yard fences. In Ukraine, a solid fence around your home is standard for privacy and personal boundaries. Seeing houses with open green lawns running straight to the sidewalk felt super weird at first.
When I sent photos home, my family immediately went, "Wait, where's your fence? Isn't that unsafe?"
Over time, though, I've fallen in love with how open everything looks. Without physical walls, the whole neighbourhood feels so friendly and welcoming.
Plus, watching my husband get obsessed with our lawn has been hilarious. Back home, grass was just grass. Now, he stands on the porch with his morning coffee, inspecting every blade and silently judging our lawn against the neighbours'.
Business hours don't exactly make sense
Finding an open coffee shop is like hunting for a rare treasure.
Whenever I head downtown at 1 p.m., craving a caffeine hit, I reach for the coffee shop handle, only to find it locked. Even though it's still early afternoon, a cute handwritten sign in the window will read: "Done for the day!"
Back in Kyiv, keeping a spot closed during prime daylight hours is considered a financial crime. If your doors are shut, you're losing income, end of story. So discovering that local restaurants here operate on part-time hours — like opening three days a week for four hours, or whenever the stars align — feels like a wild social experiment.
Finding an open coffee shop on a Tuesday now requires a master's degree in detective work.
Seniors live different lives here
Discovering that local seniors are way more active than I'll ever be.
When we first moved, I checked out the local community centre guide, hoping to find a Pilates class or something to help me settle in. That was the exact second my idea of "sleepy small-town life" fell apart.
Flipping through the pages, I noticed that almost every cool activity, club, and fitness class had one big disclaimer: For ages 50+.
Back home, older generations usually shift into a much slower gear, focusing on home and quiet routines. It was definitely a bit of an adjustment for my brain at first. I was amazed to see seniors here living such incredibly active lives — signing up for language courses, local clubs and even tango dance classes. I really love this active Canadian approach to aging.
Saturday mornings at the market look different
Stepping back from the race to enjoy the slow moments.
Stepping into the St. Marys Farmers Market was quite a culture shock for my fast-paced brain.
In Ukraine, markets aren't a weekend hangout. Farmers certainly bring their produce and dairy to sell, but it's pure business and never a relaxing moment. You go with a strategy, pay and flee. So I brought my usual "get-in-and-get-out" energy, only to find people strolling at a tortoise pace, drinking fresh coffee, listening to live music and casually catching up with neighbours every three feet.
It took me a few visits to realize that nobody here is in a rush, and honestly, that's the whole point.
My big-city "safety radar" has retired
Whether it’s day or night, peace of mind is just part of the scenery here.
When we moved, my first priority was simple: find a safe home for my family.
In a huge metropolis, choosing a safe street requires a full background check and constant street smarts. Here in St. Marys, my big-city "safety radar" has completely retired.
I can go for a late-night walk whenever I want without checking over my shoulder — unless a rustling bush reveals the scariest thing in town: a local raccoon asserting dominance over a green bin.
Moving to a tiny Canadian town has come with its fair share of changes, but as you can see, most are for the better (aside from the shovelling, of course...).
The opinions expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect the views of Narcity Media.