By Kunle Solaja.

For every journalist, travel in the line of duty is both a privilege and a dream. It becomes even more rewarding when it takes one beyond familiar borders and into new worlds.

For me, that dream first came true on 20 November 1986 when I joined a contingent of Nigerian journalists, football officials and members of the Nigeria Football Supporters Club aboard a Nigeria Airways flight to Cairo, Egypt. Our mission was to cover the return leg of the FIFA U-20 World Cup qualifying match between Nigeria and Egypt.

That journey ignited a wanderlust that has never left me.

Barely a year later came an even greater adventure, one that would take me across the Atlantic Ocean to North America, fulfilling not only a professional ambition but also a long-held academic curiosity.

Through what I still consider a fortunate twist of fate, my application to ITT Nigeria for sponsorship to cover the second edition of the FIFA Under-16 World Tournament in Canada was approved. My excitement knew no bounds. It was to be my first trans-Atlantic journey and my first visit to North America, a continent I had known only through maps, atlases and geography textbooks.

Having excelled in Regional Geography at both the West African School Certificate and Higher School Certificate levels, I had spent years studying the physical and human geography of North America. Yet nothing could compare with the prospect of seeing it with my own eyes. The thought of breathing the air of a continent I had previously encountered only in classrooms was exhilarating.

That assignment to Canada in 1987 became much more than a reporting engagement. It marked my debut as an international sports journalist and the beginning of a journey that would eventually span 28 major global sporting events.

Blast from the Past: My first visit to Canada in 1987 during the FIFA World Under-16 Tournament, the assignment that launched my international sports journalism journey and introduced me to North America for the very first time.

Those assignments would include ten FIFA World Cups, four Olympic Games, seven Africa Cup of Nations tournaments, the inaugural FIFA Women’s World Cup in China, and numerous other international competitions.

Now, nearly four decades later, the FIFA World Cup 2026 has brought me back to where it all began.

This tournament is my tenth World Cup. More importantly, it has offered me the opportunity to return to the country that launched my international reporting career.

A Different Journey, A Different Perspective

In 1987, I travelled to Canada with the boundless excitement of a young journalist embarking on his first major international assignment. Every airport, every city, every cultural encounter felt new and magical.

This time, the journey felt different.

Flying from Paris to Calgary, I found myself reflecting on the passage of time. As the aircraft crossed the Atlantic and traversed multiple time zones, memories from nearly four decades earlier resurfaced.

Outside my window stretched an endless panorama of cloud formations illuminated by daylight. Beneath them lay vast landscapes that once existed only as names in geography lessons. The journey was no longer merely about reaching a destination. It had become a bridge between the young reporter of 1987 and the veteran journalist embarking on his tenth World Cup.

Unlike my first visit, when I entered Canada through the eastern gateway of Newfoundland, this time I arrived through Calgary in Western Canada before continuing to Vancouver.

The contrast was striking.

The prairies of Alberta seemed to stretch endlessly towards the horizon, while the majestic Rocky Mountains stood in the distance like silent guardians of the Canadian West. It was a different Canada from the one I first encountered, yet equally captivating.

St. John’s: My First Encounter with the New World

The memories of St. John’s remain vivid even after 39 years.

The journey to the 1987 FIFA World Youth Championship represented far more than a professional assignment. It was my first trip outside Africa, and every moment felt like stepping into a geography textbook brought to life.

As our aircraft approached Newfoundland, I looked down upon rugged coastlines and mist-covered Atlantic waters that had seemed impossibly distant during my school days.

When we landed in St. John’s, Canada’s easternmost city, I was immediately struck by its quiet charm.

The city appeared modest and tranquil, a colourful patchwork of wooden houses set against the grey backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean. At the time, St. John’s was undergoing gradual urban renewal, carefully balancing modern development with its centuries-old maritime heritage.

What captivated me most was the air.

It was cool, crisp and astonishingly clean. For someone arriving from West Africa, where dust was a constant companion, the difference was remarkable. I soon discovered that some of the items I had carefully packed from Nigeria were unnecessary.

One of them was a tin of Kiwi shoe polish.

Throughout my stay, it remained untouched.

There was simply no dust to dull my shoes. The roads were smooth, the pavements spotless, and even the breeze felt purified.

One morning at the Park View Inn, where I was lodged, I opened my curtains and found myself looking directly at a cemetery located just across the road.

Rows of white crosses stood neatly arranged amid lush green grass.

Rather than appearing sombre, the scene radiated serenity.

Bathed in the gentle morning sunlight, it looked more like a peaceful garden than a burial ground. I remember quietly saying to myself: “Those buried there must truly be resting in peace.”

Despite its relatively small size, St. John’s projected an unmistakable sense of prosperity.

My hotel room cost 75 Canadian dollars per night—a considerable sum at the time.

An evening spent in a local pub provided another cultural lesson. While disco music dominated Nigerian airwaves, popular music ruled here. The melodies were softer, more reflective, and perfectly suited the relaxed atmosphere.

Even simple details fascinated me.

I was intrigued to discover that bottled drinks required no opener. A simple twist of the cap was enough.

Such small discoveries became cherished memories.

Standing Where History Was Made

Curious to learn more about the city, I accepted an offer from a friendly local who volunteered to show me around.

Our drive eventually took us to a high ridge overlooking the vast Atlantic Ocean.

“There,” he said, pointing towards an old stone structure. “That’s Signal Hill.”

It was there that I learned one of the most fascinating stories in communications history.

In 1901, Italian inventor Guglielmo Marconi received the world’s first transatlantic wireless signal at that very location. The Morse code letter “S” had travelled across the Atlantic from Cornwall, England, to this remote corner of Newfoundland.

Standing atop Signal Hill, gazing across the endless ocean, I imagined that historic moment.

The invisible signal that connected continents seemed symbolic of my own journey—from Nigeria to Canada, from a young reporter seeking opportunities to a journalist covering a global tournament.

There was a profound sense of connection between the history of global communication and the global sporting festival I had travelled so far to cover.

Returning to Canada

My 1987 memories are not limited to St. John’s.

Montreal also left a lasting impression, although most of my time was spent in Newfoundland.

Today, Canada presents itself differently.

The country is larger, more connected and more cosmopolitan than the one I first encountered. Yet the warmth remains unchanged.

This time, my arrival in Vancouver was made even more special by the presence of my younger brother, Femi, whose family has made the city their home.

The reunion was deeply emotional.

A special family reunion in Canada as I reconnect with my younger brother, Femi, whose family now calls Vancouver home. Nearly four decades after my first visit to Canada, football has once again brought us together.

Like me, Femi followed a path into sports journalism, serving for decades on the sports desks of Champion Newspapers and ThisDay. Sitting together in Vancouver, thousands of kilometres from home, we reflected on careers shaped by football, journalism and countless shared experiences.

As I settle into another World Cup adventure, I cannot help but marvel at the journey.

From that young reporter who first crossed the Atlantic in 1987 to a journalist now covering his tenth FIFA World Cup, the road has been long, challenging and immensely rewarding.

Families reunited in Canada. While covering my 10th FIFA World Cup, I had the joy of spending time with my younger brother’s family, as Femi has built a new home with his family in Vancouver. Some journeys are measured not only in miles travelled, but in family bonds renewed.

In the coming days, I will leave Canada for the United States—the epicentre of the biggest FIFA World Cup in history.

But before the matches, the deadlines and the stories that await, I find myself appreciating a simple truth:

Sometimes, the greatest journeys are not the ones that take us to new places.

They are the ones who bring us back to where it all began.

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