May 11, 2010
The Saint John River is at full flood but in testimony to the dryness of the season running barely above its banks. After a quiet night stopped on the way out to get gasoline and resumed my trek along Highway 2 past Moncton and on to the Nova Scotia Border. There I stopped to visit the tourist bureau, pick up a Halifax Chroncle, and make lunch. An hour later I was in Halifax at my sister’s home.
I was welcomed first by their neighbour’s two dogs which I and my Brother-In-Law ended up walking daily until the weekend as their owner had a sore knee. My Brother-In-Law guided me to a parking spot beside his home. My sister’s home is as close to home as I can get any more in Nova Scotia and indeed there is much I recognize from our mutual native home in her house. Everyone should have a Brother who is a consummate handiman. Getting my laundry done is a definite bonus.
For a week I got to fall into the rhythm of the Joudrey’s life. The places they shop, their neighbourhood, their neighbours. On Thursday we drove out to the Annapolis Valley to Berwick and to Richard’s Homestead on South Mountain to mow the lawn and air out the house. Then to his sister’s home after a visit to the graveyard and a few other nieghbours. Home is where one is treated the best and complain the most. Actually I’d say I get spoiled. My youngest neice dropped in to visit and earlier I got to see my Sister and Brother-In-Law’s pictures from Australia and New Zealand along with a few shots of their latest grandchild in England. Saturday night we drove into the city and I treated to them to a Dinner Theatre performance of Nunsense.
Sunday morning saw us walk to church at the nearby Saint Thomas Anglican Church. Highlight of the service was the puppetry presentation given by a visiting professor. Walter, it seems ate three pans of lasagna at the latest supper and needed help getting dragged from his bag. One of the best lines aimed at the adults in the audience involved the existance of dinosaurs and the fact that anyone who doesn’t believe they exist hasn’t been to an Anglican Synod. In the afternoon we got to visit with my first cousin Joan, her husband a cousin via our Mother and her daughter and grandchilren--two active brothers.
Monday we got back to the big city to wander through the Public Gardens, visit a book store, and get pan handled while we sat beside the Rhododendrons. Lunch was at Cousins, a local Greek institution and later coffee at Fair Trade. A tour of two local second-hand shops suggests that Haligonians have better than average reading habits. Halifax still supports an independent book store.
On Tuesday, the 18th, I drove down the South Shore to Bridgewater. I was fortunate on two accounts; the winds were light and I wasn’t held up in construction traffic; indeed, on my return journey I miraculously hit every light green. Spent most of my time with my 91-year-old Aunt--I’d rather spend time with the living than visit graveyards. Made it to the county offices just in time to settle my land tax accounts.
When visiting relatives it is important to leave while one is still being told one is leaving too soon. Wednesday morning I geared up, filled my gas tank at $1.04.2 a litre, dropped into Sobey’s for groceries, and headed out for Truro and then Cape Breton Island. A few hours later I stopped at the Cape Breton Tourist Office which had copies of this year’s Newfoundland Guide and Map. From there it was an hours’ drive to Kelly’s Mountain and the KOA skirting the west side of the Bras D’Or Lakes. Just once I’d like to see them lit up like golden shoulders. There was a hours’ sun to illumine the red cliff face of Kelly’s Mountain and the bridge opposite before clouds and rain settled in.
May 20, 2010
Anyone who has listened to CBC programming will remember, “and half an hour later in Newfoundland.” Tomorrow that becomes a reality in my life as I have spent the day crossing the Gulf of Saint Lawrence on a Marine Atlantic Ferry. Ferry travel as with air travel teaches one to accept one’s low status in the scheme of things. The ride can be much bumpier and the motion sickness bags are prominently in sight, the decks seem to make odd movements under one’s feet that tend to throw one off. And then there are fog horns and that warning of seven blasts from the ship’s horn that would announce, “Abandon Ship!”, a thing no one would ever want to hear. One is required to arrive a minimum of one hour before sailing and then hurry up and wait. Learning that the ferry coming the other way has not left port due to high winds is oddly discomforting; fortunately the winds abated and we backed into the dock seven hours later.
Welcome to Newfoundland. Met a couple from Saint Johns on the ferry who gave me their take on the Rock. The word Newfie, from the mouth of someone from away such as myself, can be interpreted as a term of dirision. Getting off the boat calls for more patience. The big trucks on our deck got off the boat first before smaller vehicles got their chance. Later we passed the trucks lined up at the weigh scale. Fortunately although the fog hid the spectacular scenery around Port-Aux-Basques it was not thick enough to prevent my 30-minute drive up to Grand Codroy and my campground there. It just strikes me that while I was enjoying the use of slow Wi-Fi onboard ship the ship was playing Master and Commander--which features a shipwreck; something more soppy; and finally Avatar. The language in the latter is not family rated. The tiny screen and scratchy sound system did not motivate me to go watch it.
I was welcomed first by their neighbour’s two dogs which I and my Brother-In-Law ended up walking daily until the weekend as their owner had a sore knee. My Brother-In-Law guided me to a parking spot beside his home. My sister’s home is as close to home as I can get any more in Nova Scotia and indeed there is much I recognize from our mutual native home in her house. Everyone should have a Brother who is a consummate handiman. Getting my laundry done is a definite bonus.
For a week I got to fall into the rhythm of the Joudrey’s life. The places they shop, their neighbourhood, their neighbours. On Thursday we drove out to the Annapolis Valley to Berwick and to Richard’s Homestead on South Mountain to mow the lawn and air out the house. Then to his sister’s home after a visit to the graveyard and a few other nieghbours. Home is where one is treated the best and complain the most. Actually I’d say I get spoiled. My youngest neice dropped in to visit and earlier I got to see my Sister and Brother-In-Law’s pictures from Australia and New Zealand along with a few shots of their latest grandchild in England. Saturday night we drove into the city and I treated to them to a Dinner Theatre performance of Nunsense.
Sunday morning saw us walk to church at the nearby Saint Thomas Anglican Church. Highlight of the service was the puppetry presentation given by a visiting professor. Walter, it seems ate three pans of lasagna at the latest supper and needed help getting dragged from his bag. One of the best lines aimed at the adults in the audience involved the existance of dinosaurs and the fact that anyone who doesn’t believe they exist hasn’t been to an Anglican Synod. In the afternoon we got to visit with my first cousin Joan, her husband a cousin via our Mother and her daughter and grandchilren--two active brothers.
Monday we got back to the big city to wander through the Public Gardens, visit a book store, and get pan handled while we sat beside the Rhododendrons. Lunch was at Cousins, a local Greek institution and later coffee at Fair Trade. A tour of two local second-hand shops suggests that Haligonians have better than average reading habits. Halifax still supports an independent book store.
On Tuesday, the 18th, I drove down the South Shore to Bridgewater. I was fortunate on two accounts; the winds were light and I wasn’t held up in construction traffic; indeed, on my return journey I miraculously hit every light green. Spent most of my time with my 91-year-old Aunt--I’d rather spend time with the living than visit graveyards. Made it to the county offices just in time to settle my land tax accounts.
When visiting relatives it is important to leave while one is still being told one is leaving too soon. Wednesday morning I geared up, filled my gas tank at $1.04.2 a litre, dropped into Sobey’s for groceries, and headed out for Truro and then Cape Breton Island. A few hours later I stopped at the Cape Breton Tourist Office which had copies of this year’s Newfoundland Guide and Map. From there it was an hours’ drive to Kelly’s Mountain and the KOA skirting the west side of the Bras D’Or Lakes. Just once I’d like to see them lit up like golden shoulders. There was a hours’ sun to illumine the red cliff face of Kelly’s Mountain and the bridge opposite before clouds and rain settled in.
May 20, 2010
Anyone who has listened to CBC programming will remember, “and half an hour later in Newfoundland.” Tomorrow that becomes a reality in my life as I have spent the day crossing the Gulf of Saint Lawrence on a Marine Atlantic Ferry. Ferry travel as with air travel teaches one to accept one’s low status in the scheme of things. The ride can be much bumpier and the motion sickness bags are prominently in sight, the decks seem to make odd movements under one’s feet that tend to throw one off. And then there are fog horns and that warning of seven blasts from the ship’s horn that would announce, “Abandon Ship!”, a thing no one would ever want to hear. One is required to arrive a minimum of one hour before sailing and then hurry up and wait. Learning that the ferry coming the other way has not left port due to high winds is oddly discomforting; fortunately the winds abated and we backed into the dock seven hours later.
Welcome to Newfoundland. Met a couple from Saint Johns on the ferry who gave me their take on the Rock. The word Newfie, from the mouth of someone from away such as myself, can be interpreted as a term of dirision. Getting off the boat calls for more patience. The big trucks on our deck got off the boat first before smaller vehicles got their chance. Later we passed the trucks lined up at the weigh scale. Fortunately although the fog hid the spectacular scenery around Port-Aux-Basques it was not thick enough to prevent my 30-minute drive up to Grand Codroy and my campground there. It just strikes me that while I was enjoying the use of slow Wi-Fi onboard ship the ship was playing Master and Commander--which features a shipwreck; something more soppy; and finally Avatar. The language in the latter is not family rated. The tiny screen and scratchy sound system did not motivate me to go watch it.
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