The walls are filled with Indian dolls. On one shelf, they are adult men and women, inches tall, staring out at the world with blank curiosity or crouched in fear, chests bare, clubs in hand. On another shelf they are dark skinned, black-haired, wide-eyed children. They wear hide-clothing and beaded headbands, or sleep nestled into cute little moccasins. The most expensive of the bunch is adorned with feathers. One little doll, hands raised as if asking to be picked up, has maple leaves painted on her buckskin dress. These Indian dolls, along with maple syrup and hockey jerseys, are souvenirs of Canada. As a tourist, I am presented with a “continuation of the West’s assumed right to use native figures, myths and visual arts for various purposes­– including the colonization of native culture–in a search for its own ‘roots’”(Crosby 1991:271-272).