July 22, 2010

Aoi a bhfuil fáilte roimhe coimhthíoch oilithreach. (Welcome foreign pilgrim.)

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A few of my previous posts have been part of my Canterbury Tails series about interesting people I meet along the pilgrimage of life. There were no shortages of them in Nova Scotia.

Our first character was Wayne. Wayne was our waiter in the café where we stopped for lunch in Truro, Nova Scotia. The seafood chowder was delicious and on this rainy day it really hit the spot. And so did the conversation. Wayne was the kind of guy you just have to love. He loves life, loves people, and is just plain pleasant to be around.

During our short time at the cafe this is what I learned about Wayne. He was once a sailor and traveled the world. Scotland was his favorite place. He knew since he was kid that he wanted to retire and travel. In eight years when his wife retires, he’s going to put his Harley on the back of his RV and they are going to go to Europe and travel around for a few years. Then they’ll pick another place to travel.

He has two German Sheppards and has their pictures framed and sitting on a shelf in the restaurant. He doesn’t own the restaurant but you wouldn’t know that unless you heard him talk. And come to think of it, you’d probably hear him talk if you met him so you’d probably find that out. Okay, anyway. Wayne has been putting money away for his retirement since he was young. He brought up his kids as a single parent and is happy to be at work at 5 a.m.

Seriously, we were only there for less than an hour and I haven’t told you everything. What a great guy—good luck and bon voyage, Wayne.

Another character who I didn’t get to meet for that long was our innkeeper in Pictou. When I called to make reservations and asked about a confirmation she said, “Well, I’m the innkeeper and this is your confirmation.” Maureen took us down to the house we rented and made some recommendations for dinner. She checked to see if the place was clean but I was much more concerned about the 20 degree angle of the house. Seriously. My mom and I slid halfway off the bed during the night. The leaning tower of Pisa has nothing on Maureen’s inn overlooking the harbour. But she was nice and hard working. Got to love the attitude.

Another one of our innkeepers was Barbara who ran a B&B in her townhouse. Driving up through a neighborhood that could have been mine, I was a bit concerned. But she was very helpful and kind. After she suggested we leave for the airport at an ungodly hour, I was sure that she and my dad had been hatched together. She was a bit cat crazy, which of course I loved because they were so cute and I was missing my furry babies. When not teaching her cats how to do a “high five” she was sleuthing on the computer—looking me up and checking out where I lived. All in all, it was a nice place to lay your head.

Our final character was Ben our waiter at the Mic and Mac restaurant. Awesome place outside Halifax by the way. He had this strong voice and a very friendly manner. At one point he came out with a cupcake and sang happy birthday with a beautiful, operatic, loud voice. This is the kind of guy who is comfortable in his skin and can really make you smile.

Many more lovely people were met on our pilgrimage through Nova Scotia and we enjoyed our time with all of these very friendly people.

Slán agus beannacht leat. (Goodbye and blessings with you.)

I don’t have photos of our new pilgrims so here are some funnies from the trip.

Me in the scarecrowe village

Mom and me in Pictou

A stuffed Pilgrim

 

July 20, 2010

Riding the tidal bore.

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One of the main reasons I wanted to go to Nova Scotia was to visit the Bay of Fundy. This area boasts the world’s highest tides. At one point they reach up to 55 feet. That’s akin to a five story building.

So here’s what happens that makes it kind of interesting. The tide comes in from the ocean and gets funneled into the bay and then into the Minas Basin. It then gets funneled further into a narrow river called the Shubenacadie (Shoo bin ack uh dee). When the tide goes out, the river is almost drained dry—lots of sand can be seen and the water that is left is extremely shallow. Then, when the tide comes in, it meets the water that is receding and forms what is called a tidal bore. A wave.

My parents and I arrived at the Tidal Bore Rafting Park and Cottages and sat on the deck of their restaurant overlooking the river. It was dinnertime so we ordered the Lobster rolls and took some photos of the dry river bed. Just a little while later we noticed a very fast moving body of water filling up the river. It was amazing to see. Seriously, the river was filling up before our eyes in less time than it took to have dinner.

The next night we hopped on board the zodiac and took a nice serene trip up the river. We got to see a few bald Eagles way up in the trees and the banks of wet mud on either side. Travis was our guide and he was a nice local kid who I would characterize as someone who lives for today. Travis just bought a house on the river in the flood zone with no flood insurance. During really high tides his basement floods and they fish right off his deck. When he told us the river widens by two feet each year I teased him about how in a few years he’ll just have to open up his refrigerator door to catch fish. Travis was a good guy though. I must attribute some great wisdom to the guy. He said, “You never know what’s going to happen when the tide comes in.”

And with that we hit the fast running water and he proceeded to drench us in the waves. The last bit of dunking managed to throw me and another camper off the side of the boat. I don’t remember much—just that Travis said not to hold on to the boat or we’d get sucked under. That was precisely what was going through my mind when I was under water. That and getting caught in the motor. But my Dad, who was halfway out the boat after I went over, said I “popped” right up. Yeah. Popped. I swam very hard to the surface with a ton of waders and wet shoes on. But all was well. I got into the boat and up the mud banks back to our warm cabin all safe and sound. Funny how the pulled muscle in my back didn’t hurt until much later.

All in all, it was a really fun adventure and I’d recommend it for all. But try to go during the mid cycle of the moon. If you go during a full moon you may end up getting more than dunked into the “Shubie.”

 

This is a YouTube clip of a rafting trip. It’s not mine but halfway through it you can see what it’s like on the river.

 

July 18, 2010

Things aren’t lookin Gouda for Evangeline.

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Next stop on the Nova Scotia tour took us to Blomidon Look Off. The haze kept us from looking off at much but we did get to see an entrepreneur working the system the best he/she knew how. At this blip on the map there was the “Look In guest room,” the “Look & Put,” the “Look and Lick (ice cream of course),” the “Look and Eat” take out, and the “Look Around” gift shop. The only thing missing was the view. So mom and dad and I went up to the nearby national park and hiked a trail (a long, long trail) to another look off. Finding nothing we headed out for what really mattered—the CheeseHouse.

Another marketing ploy. I reasoned that the Foxhill CheeseHouse would offer us a tour of a cheese processing plant or a chance to milk a cow—something. Nope. But once she brought out the sampler tray all was forgiven. We bought lots of yummy Cheddar, Havarti, Gouda, and other stuff along with a loaf of delicious bread and went away from said Fromagerie happy campers.

Next stop was the Acadia Heritage site. This was a nice surprise in our quest for historical and cultural enlightenment. We learned all about the Acadians, a group of French people that settled Nova Scotia around the time the Pilgrims were claiming a rock in Massachusetts. These people built dykes to deal with the huge tides that drenched the land and were neutral in the continuous struggle between the European powers that were fighting over the land. In the mid 1700’s the British instituted an ethnic cleansing campaign and deported all the Acadians—many of whom suffered and died after their belongings and homes were taken and destroyed. Some of these people migrated to various regions, one of which was Louisiana where today they are called Cajuns. Sound familiar? It’s too bad the army corps of engineers didn’t learn how to build dykes like the Cajuns’ ancestors or maybe Katrina wouldn’t have destroyed the levies. Hmmmm.

While at the heritage site we went to a memorial church where Evangeline the cat sprawled out in the window sill allowing all of us to pet her if we wished. She is named Evangeline (just like my Aunt Vangie) after the Evangeline in the story by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Evidently her character represents the horror of the deportation and brought it out in the open for everyone to see and to remember. I bought a copy and will be reading it soon. Too bad we are still doing this kind of thing today.

Stay tuned as the adventure heads toward the tidal bore and my near drowning. Okay, I’m exaggerating but I did fall into the rushing waters of the Shubenacadia River. If you think you know how to pronounce it, I’ll give you a prize.

 

July 16, 2010

Taking a stroll down Lobster Lane.

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Okay, so in this second installment of the Crowe’s 2010 Nova Scotia cross-province adventure, the trio travel to Peggy’s Cove. This is a quaint little village with a nice little lighthouse atop rocks that were formed by glaciers millions of years ago. Personally, I liked the random “street” signs they had—see photos below. This being the first day and my mouth was watering with the idea of getting to eat lots of lobster, I was immediately in like with these locals who named a path, Lobster Lane. There’s a story about the name of this town. If you want to you can read it here.

After an obligatory stop at the gift shop, we walked back to the car and made our way over to Lunenburg. Lunenburg is also a quaint town where the shops all close really early and if you want to buy a toothbrush, you’ll have to wait until the following afternoon because the next day was Sunday and the only thing open was the Fisheries museum. Of course we went there and learned all about the famous tall ship of Nova Scotia, the Bluenose.

Well, just a note on Lunenburg. If you know of the actress Ellen Page (star of a very cool movie called Whip It), she did some Cisco commercials set in that town that aired last winter. Reportedly, the town mayor said about the production company, “They certainly spent a fair bit of money here during the time they were in town. It was quite a big production. The money from the production company was used to upgrade playground equipment in the town.” According to an article by Roger Taylor, Business Columnist, the mayor said the town will probably put up some links to the www.cisco.com website, where the ads may be viewed, but he doesn’t know if Cisco would link to the town’s site, www.explorelunenburg.ca.

I hope that last part puts this town into perspective for you. So…after eating the fish and chips and a local beer, Keith’s—both yummy—and having a nice night sleep, we headed out for the Annapolis Valley. By the time we got there, we were hungry for lunch so naturally we ate in the German Bakery. For a province that is part French, part Indian, and is named “new Scotland,” I was admittedly thrown a bit by the German invasion into this area. But I did find it funny that my health-conscious father did not skip a beat when ordering strudel for dessert.

After lunch, we strolled through the lovely Royal Historic Gardens, and then went off to explore Fort Ann where we got to see an exhibition of the Highland Regiment. It was all nice until they showed us how they practice spearing people with their bayonets. Fun with bagpipes and gunpowder, eh? That night we stayed in a really nice B&B that’s on all the brochures—the Queen Anne Inn. We spent the evening celebrating our American Independence Day quietly in our room while watching the fireworks on TV. Because naturally, while in a foreign country there are plenty of American TV programs to watch.

That’s all for now. Next time we visit the cheese farm. Yum.

 

July 13, 2010

Welcome, Bienvenue, Kwe, eh.

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A tale of New Scotland.

I’m back from vacation and ready to share my experiences from Nova Scotia—that province in Canada near Maine that takes its name (New Scotland) from my ancestors in the old country. Having said that, I learned quite a bit of Nova Scotia’s history and discovered that it was originally settled by the Mi’kmaqs, an Indian tribe belonging to the greater Algonquin nation. And the first white folks who came around to settle the area back in the early 1600’s were the French—who called themselves Acadians. They got along with the locals and made the tidal-drenched lands very fertile. The Scots came along later and claimed the highlands, as it reminded them of their lovely home.

But I’ll get to all that later because it was very interesting learning about this little island’s history. What I’ll start off saying is that the current locals—made up of my favorite cousins, the fun Canadians—are friendly and good natured people. My parents and I enjoyed our tour of the island and came back enlightened about the Nova Scotian people and the various cultures that have made up this endearing place.

The only Canadian on this trip that I didn’t like was the customs guy. He kept asking me questions as if I was a danger to his people. Now just before leaving for vacation I heard an expert on national defense discuss the latest policies of the TSA. He rightly criticized the organization for bowing to public fear and political correctness instead of doing what works. What doesn’t work is making us all take off our shoes so we have to walk barefoot on the disgusting airport floors and spending time questioning the girl who has been called “wonder bread.”

But whatever. On another note, I just want to say that I refused to go into the “naked” machine. You know what I mean—the new security x-ray scanner that allows TSA agents to see you the way only doctors should. Not-uh. That’s my line in the sand boys. Ok. Just had to get all that crap off my chest. I probably just put myself on some government watch list. I can only hope my blog gets that many readers. Wow, I’d be like some kind of travel-screening rebel. “Hell no, we won’t go…without our shoes, water bottles, toothpaste, and lighters.”

Moving on…having passed inspection, we got into our car and headed off to our first stop, Peggy’s Cove. I’ll continue on with the vacation diary next time. Until then, remember that there are now nawnstop flights from Halifax to Bawston. That was the first sign we saw driving out of the airport. The second one was for ice cream. I’ll get to that later. Stay tuned for Peggy, Ann, and the German girl with Strudel.

Scenes along the way…

Hiking along the Cabot Trail near Ingonish

Cabot Trail

Nova Scotia coast

 

June 25, 2010

Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez

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Let the good times roll. A perfect theme for the city of New Orleans. The people of N’Ahlins are as spicy as their food and have a character that is unique in America. As I was visiting their fair city this week, I got to speak to a few cab and bus drivers as well as hotel staff. All were polite and friendly and upbeat. That must be hard to do when the temperature is 98 degrees and as John Stewart says, “The people of Louisiana’s gulf coast are cleaning the tar off their beaches to get ready for the next disaster.”

I only went down for one night on business, but of course it’s New Orleans, so there is plenty to talk about. When I got off the plane I climbed into a taxi and within a few minutes realized that my driver was probably the guy who back in 2005 during the height of Katrina was probably standing in the middle of Canal street screaming, “Is that all you got?” Seriously, it was a death ride to the hotel. But the driver kept calling me bébé (baby) in that cute Louisiana accent so I forgave him. At one point he asked me, “You aright bébé?” I’m not sure why he asked. Maybe the color had drained from my face, who knows.

During the day I got to hear President George W. Bush speak. I know many people don’t like him and that he’s not the great orator, but I like him and his speech was wonderful. He was humorous, down-to-earth, and spoke from the heart. During his time as President, he led us the best he knew how and stuck to his principles—not bowing to mob mentality or popularity contests. Anyway, it was enjoyable and a great experience.

In the evening I went to Mardi Gras World (yes, this was all “work”). Walking through the warehouse was fun as I got to see some of the floats—big and over the top for sure. After listening to a few songs from the awesome swing band Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, I called it a night. My only regret was that I didn’t have time to get a Po Boy from Mother’s.

That was my third trip to the Cajun city and I chose to skip the whole Bourbon Street experience—been there and am done with that. But the music was great—and I even got to wake up to a CD of New Orleans-inspired music. The cab ride back to the airport was uneventful—thank God. And my little neighbor Cayden was thrilled with the Mardi Gras beads I brought home for him. Let’s just hope that the oil doesn’t ruin the charm of N’Ahlins. They’ve had enough trauma—even for the most laissez-faire among them.

 

June 21, 2010

Really!?!

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I thought I’d start a series inspired by the very funny couple Amy Poehler and Seth Meyers called, “Really!?!”

Today’s segment of Dawn’s version of “Really!?!” is about the oil spill in the Gulf.

On the radio the other day, one of the many politicians elbowing in for airtime about the Gulf oil spill made a remark that I thought was so typical of blowhards. He said, “We don’t have a minute to waste. We don’t have an hour to waste. We don’t have a day to waste.”

“Really!?!” If any of you are as cynical as me, you can see the ridiculousness of that statement. Dude, if you don’t have a minute to waste then why did you waste time making your statement longer than it needed to be? If you don’t have a minute to waste, it stands to reason that you also would not have an hour (60 minutes) or a day (1,440 minutes) to waste. And why are you talking so much anyway? Just take action man!

Next time the media can skip the long-winded finger-pointers and just show everyone this video:

If you were expecting more intense perceptions from me regarding the Gulf oil spill, I’m sad to disappoint you. Too much pain on that subject—and it’s been covered pretty well so far. But I think it’s worth noting that we can cry at the horrendous photos of our planet being destroyed, yell at and blame greedy executives and companies, and ridicule the politicians repeatedly, but like the cat said—we want our oil so in the end what will change?

While you’re pondering that, view a clip of Seth and Amy’s “Really!?!” segment. Got any “Really’s” of your own?

 

June 5, 2010

I move to have these crazies committed. Second?

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So last weekend I attended an HOA meeting for my beach house community. Honestly these people are the epitome of the crazy, motion-happy, spend-happy, too-much-time-on-their-hands dysfunctional community. You’ve probably heard the HOA horror stories and I’m here to tell you that these crazy things actually happen. Many communities are healthy but this is not one of them. I don’t know how many times there were endless comments made about a motion and then after 15 minutes one of these bozos would say, “What’s the motion?”

It’s sad really because I am so frustrated by the ridiculousness of these people I cannot and will not attend any more of these meetings. Yes, I am giving up on democracy as it relates to this HOA. Seriously, how long do you think a conversation about a ramp that some crazy bat wants built should take? Five years and two hours? Yup. The construction contractor came and was so frustrated he was about to fire us as a customer. I wish he would have. Then maybe I wouldn’t have had to sit through 26 minutes of the slope ratio and drainage discussion.

So enough. Next year I’m abstaining and enjoying the beach—before the board makes us pay a toll to cross the dunes. Some of you may be saying, well then get involved if you want to change it. I saw another guy try that. He’s a good guy, reasonable, well-liked, and did a good job. These people drove him to quit. So I’ll keep my sanity and let them squabble over the size of the trees near the gate that costs thousands of dollars and gets left open all winter. I will say one more thing. If they tell me I can’t take my afternoon daiquiri on to the beach, I will lead a rebellion and it won’t be pretty. So there. All in favor? Aye!

 

 

May 29, 2010

The Good ol’ Hockey Game.

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I’m watching an exciting first match of the Stanley Cup Finals. I checked Facebook earlier and of course there were cheers, waves, and shout outs. And because my friends are intelligent and enlightened, there were many well wishes for the Flyers.

Our boys are keeping up but they had me shouting something nasty when they let the Blackhawks score shorthanded. That’s a no-no and if they were in Philly the fans would have let them know they won’t be putting up with that. Flyers games are really fun to attend in person. I remember being at a game once and thinking after the first ten minutes that the team was moving slow, getting beat to the puck, and generally stinking up the ice. I wasn’t alone. The next minute what started as a low rumble-like sound escalated into full blown boos from the crowd. I’ve been a Philadelphia fan for a long time but even I was a bit shocked. Just for a second though. Because my hard earned dollars were paying to see those boys work for the win.

Whether they win or lose tonight I’m proud of them. (Except that shorthanded goal thing earlier—let’s forgive but not forget.)

Tune in on Monday night for game two. And until then, sing along…

 

May 25, 2010

May the cup runneth over on Broad Street.

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There is just something special about playoff hockey. The checks are a little bit harder, the skating is faster, and the puck handling and passing is like watching a ballet of sorts. The goaltending is superb. In fact, you really can’t win the holy grail of hockey—the Stanley Cup—without superior goaltending. And finally, the boys all look extra gruffy. There’s an unwritten rule that hockey players don’t shave during the playoffs. Those boys are so superstitious they make gypsies look like conservative pragmatists.

I used to work for a hockey team. And I did some internship work for the Flyers Skate Zone. That meant going to all the Flyers and Phantoms’ home games, sitting in incredibly awesome seats, and working a table during the intermissions. During my stint in sports, I met some famous people, slipped on the ice once or twice, narrowly missed being caught in fights, and fractured my hand after being hit by a puck going, oh, maybe 90 miles an hour. It almost hit my face, so I count my blessings. Funny thing was—I got to claim worker’s comp for that.

Anyhoo. My all time favorite team in my favorite sport is in the Stanley Cup Finals. The Flyers won Lord Stanley’s Cup a couple of years back in the 70’s. That team was called the “Broad Street Bullies” and Philly loved them. A few years later, my dad took us to a game and I was hooked. I managed to convince him to get us some season tickets. So my dad and I would go to the games together, and sit in the first row of the nosebleed section. It was awesome. I’m glad he wore headphones to hear the play-by-play because the guy sitting next to us threw the f-bomb around like … well a Philadelphia fan would.

I’m calling on all my friends to root for the orange and black. Here’s to the Broad Street Boys! Let’s go Flyers, let’s go!

P.S. I’ve gotten to kiss the cup. Twice. Visit the hockey hall of fame and you can see it too!

Flyers Fan Zone. All are welcome.

 

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