Surprises Abound

Good morning Mr. President, you need to get up and get dressed, the press will be arriving momentarily, we just got word that you've won the Nobel Peace Prize! Who knew that Obama was even nominated for this honour. With this award a man who has carried on his shoulders the expectations of America is saddled with those of the world as well.

 

Stephen Harper plays the National Arts Centre, who knew he had an artistic side. Look what his public music career did for Bob Rea.

 

Canada Post, the people who deposit my monthly pension are again announced as one of Canada's top 100 employers. For once I have to agree with the CUPW, our equally self-serving union, HUH¿ One of the criteria, it seems, is getting the most out their employees in this poll set up by MacLean's.

 

I'm still trying to get my mind around the concept of the provincially run park at Hopewell Rocks hiring as information officer a person from Saskatchewan, one of only two provinces in the dominion totally lacking in seashore.

 

I was just digesting the fact that my Brother-in-Law was leaving his job when word arrived that he and my sister are off down-under. And they just keep coming.

 

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The great thing about democracy is that it gives every voter a chance to do something stupid.

Art Spander

 

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Saint John, New Brunswick is a grimy city not even three days of rain could wash clean. Getting out of Saint John is easier said than done. Every road I took seemed to end in a cul de sac created by the building of yet another new highway. When I finally decided my GPS was lost and took my own head for it I found the road West. It isn't all that far to Saint Andrews from Saint John but the inland route winds up and down through uninspiring woods and rock past the roads to Blacks Harbour with its Sardine Factory and the ferry to Grand Manan; Point Lepreau with its nuclear power plant currently mired in the cost over-runs of refurbishment; and numerous other fishing ports and points of land on a crenulated coastline. There is no shore road as most of these points of land are accessed by a road that leads only in or out and so it is with St Andrews by the Sea.

 

Beginning life as a seaport on the Saint Croix River which marks the boundary between Canada and the State of Maine and accessed by Passamaquoddy Bay, itself ringed by a chain of islands which includes Campobello and formerly served by railroads the highway in appears to be an afterthought being narrow, winding, hilly and rutted by heavy truck traffic. On a day of torrential rain such as I drove the highway, if you can call it that, was inches deep in water and a treacherous drive. A haven for the idle rich the coastline is almost entirely in private hands and one does not see water until one reaches the point of land at the end of this peninsula where the Kiwanis Club has established an RV Park. Judging by the number of service worker's cars and trucks parked at the lots overlooking the Bay at noon time many of the town's less affluent residents can be thankful that someone had the forethought to keep this area free for the public's use.

 

The town which began life as a shipping port for British entrepreneurs displaced by the American Revolution transitioned to a resort for the rich and hypochondriacal. It was CP who built the chateau-style Algonquin Hotel and promoted it as a spa for the well-heeled residents of East Coast and Upper Canadian industrial cities. When the automobile put travel within the means of a growing middle class the genteel summer residents who spent the season here became inundated by a lower class tourist. I would definitely fit in this class.

 

Despite the fact that I can afford to camp here and am not made to feel totally out of place the reminders of that genteel past are everywhere to be seen in the magnificent architecture, the six story hotel, the gracious dining clubs and inns, the golf course. It is interesting to note that All Saints Anglican Church has daily matins and evensong worship services.

 

My Oceanfront Campsite looks out at Passamaquoddy Bay and when the fog lifts sufficiently I can actually see the offshore islands. Yesterday it was worth being awake to see the sun rise over the bay and colour the breaks in the cloud-cover a brilliant scarlet. Pity the area sees so little sunlight. By the time I rode up to explore Kingsbrea Gardens the clouds had closed ranks yet again. This late in the season only a few things still bloom and the warmest welcome in the park was granted by one of the resident cats, Garfield I believe. I got home just ahead of the next shower. The gardens close for the season today, Saturday, October 10, 2009.

 

With a dependable Wi-Fi connection I have finally managed to empty all my E-mail folders of new mail. Now I suppose I should get back to my book which I've neglected since I got back online. Actually I picked up a book on St Andrews that I'll finish first. Put on my winter coat today to walk uptown to have a Thanksgiving Dinner. As the sky clear the temperature drops and white stuff is in the forecast for later in the week.