July 2007

So I’m back home, snug as a bug in a rug. I arrived to the smiling face of Earl around 7:15 p.m. last night, confirming my suspicions that Québec is about eight hours from our home, not including the 1.5 hours I spent waiting at the border to cross back into the United States. Sitting at the border was an absolutely fascinating opportunity to people watch. I was in the left most lane of about eight lanes waiting to cross. All lanes were backed up for about one mile. Three lanes over there was a man with a toddler sitting on his lap, allowing the child to steer the minivan full of people. I wish that I could have worked it out so that I could watch him try to get through customs without the child in a car seat. When I was a kid, we were often entertained by being allowed to sleep in the back window or sit in the steering wheel. Today kids are strapped in and forced to watch a DVD. Hmmm, we survived just fine.

The man at the border crossing was surprisingly very amicable. I think it’s because I willingly gave him both my passport and my driver’s license. “Are you bringing anything back into the United States?” “I have less than $100 in souvenirs, you can take a look if you want.”, was my reply. I think he liked that. He thanked me for my passport because he just had to scan instead of typing the information into the computer. He also had a blond version of my mustache. I like to think that we bonded in some way. He has my number if he wants to call.

Earl and I haven’t traveled in Canada very much since 9/11, mostly because I find the treatment of people coming into the United States rather disconcerting and I don’t want to deal with the hassle. But since this latest excursion, I can say that I plan on visiting our neighbors to the north a lot more. Plus, looking at a map I found a very small border crossing in northern New York that we’re going to start using so we don’t have to wait in the long lines on the interstate.

Here’s some of the observations I made:

1. Talk radio in Canada, both in English and French, discusses a wide range of topics with varying points of view. They talk about the environment, they talk about the upcoming gay pride parade in Halifax, they talk about nuclear power, they talk about crime rates and they talk about their health care system. As soon as I crossed into the states, talk radio was all about terror, terror, terror and more terror, the war, some more terror, the war, terror, the damn liberals, terror and a general “the sky is falling” attitude. I spun the dial several times trying to find something a little less bleak but all I found was more terror, terror and terror.

2. The number of SUVs on the road in Canada is only about a tenth of what we have here in the states. There are some cute little two seat cars, which look like half of a Cooper Mini. I don’t know what they’re called but they look to be quite fuel efficient. I also saw several electric cars, especially around Montréal. While I’m talking about driving, Canadians still use sensible lane discipline for the most part, meaning they still heed “Keep Right Except To Pass”. Here this little law is all but ignored, especially in New England and Upstate New York.

3. I was able to walk through Zellers (think K-mart) without seeing a person on one of the motorized carts that I think should be banned from stores (at least in all but a few extreme circumstances). I also noticed that waistlines are generally somewhat smaller on Canadian citizens. There’s still a lot of husky, but there’s not a lot of grossly overweight going on.

4. Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick seem to be very environmentally conscious in that there are no “trash cans”, there are recycling stations with “garbage”, “recyclable” and “compost”. Everywhere. McDonalds, Tim Hortons, the mall, the street; everyone is intent on recycling. This is good.

5. I confirmed that Americans as a whole are surly and depressed. Canadians seem much more chipper. Every clerk or cashier was friendly, smiled and accomodating. I never left a store without hearing “Merci beaucoup, au revoir!” (Thank you very much, good-bye). And they sounded like they meant it.

Our friends Sean and Jeffrey are going through the necessary red tape to move to Canada and become Canadian citizens. I must say that I applaud their efforts and I completely understand their reasoning. Given the opportunity, I would love to live in Canada full-time. Ten years ago or so, Earl and I discussed retiring to Southern Québec and last night I confirmed that game plan with him.

I love our neighbors to our North. I look forward to visiting them again soon.

So tonight I am in the gorgeous city of Québec, Québec. I haven’t been here since 1983, when I was here with my high school French class. It’s as beautiful as I remember it, with a unique blend of old and new. I love the province of Québec because it has it’s own culture and you definitely feel like you’re not in the States when you’re here.

One of the reasons I chose to come through Québec on the way home, which by the way added over three hours to my trip, is because I’m always looking to break out of my shell a little bit and by spending the night in a city that doesn’t have English as it’s predominant language I figured that I would be forced to be a little more outgoing.

I’ve startled a few people with my attempts at speaking French.

First of all, I don’t know why the New York State Education Department insists on teaching it’s students France French. Half the northern border of the Empire State is with a French speaking province, you’d think they’d teach us functional Québecois instead of France French. From what I understand (and I know Thom in Va. can chime in on this), the folks here speak a more proper dialect of French than the French do. It’s as different as American English versus British English and then some. No offense to Mlle. Hallinan (my high school French teacher), but the maitre’d does not care that Je m’appelle Jean-Patrick nor do they care that “Michel! Anne! Vouz-travaillez? Non, je regarde la télevision, pourquoi?” (We had to recite that last bit from our french book on enough occasions that it has stuck in my head to this day.)

I believe that when you’re visiting a foreign country, you should at least attempt to speak the native language before asking/demanding/jumping into your own tongue. I will make every possible attempt to get through a conversation completely in French, but I’ve been a little wary since that time I told the woman in Montréal that I was in heat (I meant to say it was hot). Now, when greeted with a cordial “Bonjour” at an establishment, I return the same and then try to muddle my way through some French before saying, “Je regrette, parlez-vous anglais?” There’s usually a sigh of relief when I get to this point. Said sigh is usually preceded by startled looks.

The “parlez-vous anglais?” bit worked perfectly at the front desk of the hotel, where the very attractive desk attendant went from perfect French to perfect English without so much as a bat of an eye. I think she was relieved that I wasn’t going to give her the “Michel! Anne!” speech nor was I going to quote Lady Marmalade.

Feeling quite cocky, I got myself gussied up and drove into Québec without a map or GPS at my side. I ended up in the gayborhood! Whoo hoo! I walked around a bit, hoping to find some little place that I could get une table pour un (cringing yet Thom?) and enjoy a little dinner. Unfortunately, that neighborhood seemed to be all about the sushi and/or Vietnamese food. As good as I was feeling avec mon francais, I wasn’t about to dive into some oriental version of the language nor was I going to try to bark out a number off a menu. So I did some more walking and enjoyed the crisp air before deciding I head back to the hotel.

Calorie starved and a little dizzy when all was said and done, I found a 24h McDonalds and decided to give it a shot. I walked up to the counter and did the Bonjour! response and my “Parlez-vous anglais?” to the young lady when she responded “Eh?” I asked if she spoke English again, this time a little slower when she responded with a meek “Non.”

Ugh.

So much for my cockiness. Time to muddle through another order and hope I don’t end up with McYak or something.

“Numero Huit.” I blame Earl for the Spanish I threw into the mix because I had just cleared my voicemail of him babbling in Spanish in response to my French message.

“Huit!” she said.

“Grande”, I asked, hoping to god that’s how I got to supersize.

She looked at me blankly, so I tried again. “Grande?” “Large?” “Super-Sized?” “Mondo Mondo?”

She made “large” motions with her hand and said “Trio”.

“Trio.” Who the hell cares if I was about to get three meals. (I’m thinking that the super sized meals here are called “Triples”, hence the “Trio”.)

When all was said and done I got what I intended and ended the transaction with a sweet merci beaucoup exchange between us. I like to think that the cashier and I had a moment.

After a good night’s sleep I was up relatively early and headed into Charlottetown, which I believe is the only city on Prince Edward Island. After a brief stop at one of the local markets, Sobey’s, for some breakfast fruit, I did some touring of the downtown area and the harbor.

Here’s the obligatory self shot.

I found the downtown area to be quite nice. It reminds me a bit of Portland, Maine and Burlington, Vermont to some to some extent. Everyone seems quite friendly and the sidewalks were busy. There’s all sorts of shops and businesses. There’s a pedestrian mall area with a large selection of restaurants and bars. There was even a brass quintet performing, as they give a free recital twice a day during the week.

Being an island and all, PEI has a lot of marinas.

After touring around a bit, I decided to relax in some air conditioning a little bit, so I went to the local mall which is anchored by a Zellers. Reminicent of K-mart back in the good old days, I was delighted to see that Zellers still has a “K-mart Cafeteria” / Woolworth’s “Harvest House” type restaurant, but I skipped that culinary delight since I was meeting up with my sister Jennifer and her boyfriend David to do some sightseeing this afternoon.

Once I met up with them, our first stop was in Cavendish, home of Anne of Green Gables. Jennifer insisted I try on Anne’s hat and pigtails, so here’s a photo of the event. It’s a little blurry but there’s no spirit lost.

I also snapped this picture of Jennifer and David as we were getting ready to move on to our next adventure.

We then went onto the beach (there’s a lot of water around here!) where the ocean is clocking in at 17-degrees celsius, which is a chilly 62.6 degrees fahrenheit. We stuck our toes in and found it to be cold. I could swim in it after my body numbed up, I suppose. We opted to walk along the water instead.

Now I’m resting up a bit before meeting with Dave and Jennifer and their friends for a dinner theatre tonight. We might have a few drinks afterward. I don’t think we’ll be out exceedingly late though, since Jennifer is catching a plane home tomorrow morning around 6:30. It’s funny to think that she’ll be home way before I will.

Last night I mentioned that I was going to take a long road trip this week. With Earl’s best wishes and encouragement, I hit the road this morning looking forward to exploring parts of the world I’ve never been before. I knew where I was going along, as did Earl, but nosy people read my blog and I wanted to surprise a few folks. So here I am, sitting in an Econo Lodge. I snapped a picture before I reached my intended destination.

My sister spends a lot of time on Prince Edward Island, as her boyfriend and his family lives here. Tomorrow is her birthday and I thought I’d surprise her and take her out to lunch.

So I’m in Charlottetown, PEI.

She’s in Halifax, Nova Scotia, getting away for a few days.

Oops.

I’ve talked to her and she’s planning on being back on “the island” tomorrow, so this spontaneous plan will work out.

In talking with various family members trying to coax information out of them without giving my intentions away, I’m discovering that some find it odd that Earl and I are not together on this trip. I’ve always said that few “get” us and this is one of the aspects of our relationship that I’m referring to. Earl knows how much I love roadtripping and since our vacation schedules aren’t meshing this time around I embarked on this little adventure alone but with his blessing. It’s probably a good thing he’s not along, as I drove about 950 miles today.

A few quick observations and then I’ll call this is a wrap:

1. Maine becomes very, very, very rural north of Bangor along Interstate 95. It also becomes wildly beautiful and I loved driving along this portion of the roadway.

2. I’ve never been to New Brunswick or Prince Edward Island before as my Canadian experience has been limited to Ontario and Québec. I must say that like Maine, N.B. and PEI both have a rural beauty that is quite rare in our part of the USA. From the little I’ve seen, I absolutely adore it up here. And where else could I get a McLobster Sandwich?

3. I might have to hit Nova Scotia on the way home, just to add another province to the roster.

So we were on our way to Hillside Campgrounds this past Friday when Earl said to me, “Since it looks like you’re going to be working in a week or so, why don’t you take a couple of days next week and go for a little road trip?”

Holy crap.

He knows that I’ve been wanting to take a trip in the Acura and just explore some area of the country that I’ve never been before. I have to admit the thought is quite tempting, though I am a little sad that he can’t join me for the fun. When I mentioned this to him, he reminded me that I would probably drive 15 to 20 hours in one shot and he wouldn’t enjoy that long of a ride.

So I’m leaving tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. I’m just going to drive. I’ll post late tomorrow night and then we’ll both know where I ended up for the night.