Hard Telling Not Knowing tries to answer your burning questions about why things are the way they are in Maine — specifically about Maine culture and history, both long ago and recent, large and small, important and silly. Send your questions to [email protected].
Any Mainer over a certain age will remember the phrase, plastered on front doors and next to cash registers at local businesses, and repeated in commercials and newspaper ads: “Canadian cash at par.”
Back in the day, so many Canadian tourists came through Maine that, for local businesses, it made sense to accept Canadian money at par, or at face value — one Canadian dollar for one American dollar. For many years, CAD tended to fluctuate by just a few pennies above or below USD, so for the amount of business that came through, it was all worth it.
The gas stations that fueled up vehicles that crossed the border. The motels that put Canadian tourists up for the weekend. The Maine shops and restaurants — whether in downtown areas, or starting in 1978, at the Bangor Mall — that welcomed them with open arms. Some even came across the border just to grocery shop. Mainers want their money, and Canadians want the stuff you can’t get in Canada. Hell of a deal.
Since the mid-2010s, however, the Canadian dollar has lost much of its value. Right now, one U.S. dollar is worth around $1.39 Canadian. Something that costs $20 in Maine costs around $27 for Canadians. Couple that with stricter policies at border crossings after the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks, and the flow of goods and people between Maine and Canada has slowed.
It’s not just changes in exchange rates and border policies, however. The rise of online shopping meant that items that were once only available in the U.S. are now much more readily available in other countries. Why drive across the border, when you can order a cute new outfit or piece of home decor online and have it delivered to your doorstep?
Still, some things have maintained the flow of people and commerce between the borders. The Maine Savings Amphitheater in Bangor brought a new wave of tourists eager to see bands and artists that wouldn’t otherwise tour through Atlantic Canada and rural Quebec. And anyone who’s ever seen a literal busload of New Brunswick shoppers pull up to T.J. Maxx or Target in Bangor knows that our neighbors to the east still love to shop in the Queen City. Maine’s tourism office estimates that between 700,000 and 900,000 Canadians still visit Maine each year, spending more than $400 million in the state.
Besides, there’s always one thing you could count on when it comes to Canadians coming to Maine: the siren call of Old Orchard Beach, a summer vacation spot beloved by Quebecois tourists for generations. The soft, sandy beach and tolerable water temperatures; the cheap lodging; the amusement park to delight the kids. It’s a half-day’s drive from Montreal, and there’s nothing like it anywhere closer to Quebec. Even currency fluctuations haven’t greatly affected its draw. Surely nothing could change that?
Think again. The day President Donald Trump was sworn into office, he promised to enact tariffs on both Canada and Mexico, though as we’ve seen in more recent weeks, those promises have fluctuated and flip-flopped quite a bit. Then came the whole business about making Canada the “51st state,” and various inaccurate things Trump claimed about Canada’s trade, defense and banking policies. It’s still unclear what exactly is going to happen with any of it.
One thing that’s for sure, however, is that it really made Canadians mad. Turns out, all that goodwill between Maine and Canada can survive currency and fuel cost fluctuations, changes in tastes and practices, and lots of other things. It might not survive Trump.
And that would be a real shame. Direct proximity aside, Maine, the Maritimes and even parts of Quebec share so many things — from many cultural traditions to a deep connection to the landscape that surrounds us. We even share two languages, English and French, between the St. John Valley and New Brunswick.
It would be a fundamental change in summer culture in Maine to not see a flood of license plates from Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Quebec heading down Interstate 95 or to not overhear conversations in French as you browse in a shop or to not find that the people sitting next to you at a restaurant or concert are from Saint John, Bangor’s sister city. The boardwalk at Old Orchard would be a lot less lively without our friends from up north.
