Halifax, Nova Scotia 2004
Halifax and St Johns
September 2004
Hello from Eastern Canada. I have one week in St. Johns, Newfoundland to go after completing two weeks in Halifax, Nova Scotia.
One Sunday afternoon we headed up to the Bay of Fundy. Although this sounds like a Six Flags water park, the Bay of Fundy is known for some of the most extreme tides in the world. We came up over the hill that overlooks the Acadian Valley with the sea in the background…only there was no sea. It looked as though someone had pulled the pug on the bay just before we got there. It wasn’t until then I remembered about reading the about the 20-30 ft tides. We went by a boat dock with 3 large boats sitting on mud next to the dock. And the dock was a good 12 feet above their decks. I guess if you tie your boat up too tight, it would dangle off the end of the dock like a prize tuna posing for a picture next to a tourist fisherman when the tide rolls out. By the time we headed back, a scant three hours later, the tide was back and had completely refilled the mud plain that we saw when we arrived.
The primary sport for has-been athletes in Canada is curling. Curling is the equivalent of bowling to the physically fit in the states. I noticed several trophies around the Halifax office with the statue on top holding a broom instead of a hockey stick or a baseball bat. I asked the materials administrator, who had the biggest trophy, if he had cleaned his office better than all the others. He looked at me like I was crazy. (I get that a lot!) “You’ve never heard of curling?!” He asked incredulously. It seems curling is played on ice and with a 40 pound stone (probably with “Rawlins” or “Wilson” carved in the side.) that is slid by a team member toward a target under the ice. The ice is “pebbled” with water sprinkled on to make the stone slide irrationally, kind of like Michael Jackson at a competency hearing. To combat the pebbled effect, two team members, called “sweepers”, run around with brooms and sweep the ice to make it heat up or cool down in an effort to speed up or slow down the stone as it approaches the target. Another sad example why people who invent new sports should not be allowed near alcohol.
It was cool while I was in Halifax, fluctuating between 48-65 degrees. When we landed Friday night in St. Johns, Newfoundland, the pilot announced it was 2 degrees Celsius. Multiplying 2 times 9/5ths, adding 32, subtracting the square root of 3, dividing by the hippopotamus of a triangle, and eating a pi substituted for x, I found out that 2 degrees Celsius converted to Fahrenheit is “really, really cold.”
I ran into the Indian Chief Accountant at lunch in St. Johns on Saturday. I just realized that the way I wrote that, it sounds like Chief Wampum from Oghakupa wears a headdress and chants over the ledgers, applying war paint when the budget is exceeded. Actually, the Chief Accountant is originally from India and moved here from our Kuwait office three weeks ago. He and his family insisted I come over for dinner. I reluctantly agreed. Then he said it would be an Indian feast. I suffered on India food in a remote part of India for three months in 2000 and I developed a loathing for it. True Indian food is nothing like you get in a Indian restaurant in the USA. I rather be hanging upside down over a growing bonfire having huge poisonous scorpions and tarantulas placed in bad places by Chief Wampum than eat Indian food. I knew my friend had a dog. My plan before I went in his house was to see if there was any dog-do in the yard I could use to cut the taste of the Indian food. For hors d'oeuvre (French for “dish of horse”), however, his wife had a wonderful platter of ham, pepper cheese, and shrimp. I thought, if this was the predecessor of true Indian food, and not that curry revulsion I was served in India, then “bring it on!” However, the main course was curry-racked chicken and beef tongue and, if you like Indian food, would have been a treat of rare palatial delight. In the end, I somehow survived, and, although they had unknowingly tried to kill me, very much appreciated the hospitality of the entire family.
And speaking of culinary splendors, while in St. Johns, there is a mountain about half a mile from the hotel that is a national park and has a severe 6 kilometer walking path that ends up at the peak overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and St. Johns Bay. I have walked this the last two mornings and noticed some town people in some areas with brush stooped down and picking something. Today, no longer able to stand it, I approached an elderly man and asked him what he was picking. “Those purple berries there are blueberries,” he commented as he paused long enough to toss a large handful of red berries into his mouth. “What are the red berries?” I asked when I saw him start refilling his hand with more. He just shrugged and said (and I am not making up one word of this), “I have no idea, but they taste pretty good.” Although I have always avoided unknown berries because of the potential delusional or terminal effects, these were tasty and effects no side me had. Later…sky green purple…brain hurt…pain bad…Indian food need out… Just kidding. It would have taken more than watching an old man eat unknown berries to get me to pop some in my mouth. At least a $5 bet or a dare.
Both Halifax and St. Johns are really nice and very old cities. Halifax is where they buried the Titanic survivors. And, if I might add, that was terrible thing to do to those people after all they had been through to get out of the Titanic. I meant to write “Titanic victims”, but for some reason, I keep wanting to say, or write in this case, survivors. Both places have lots of light houses, including the famous one at Peggy’s Cove east of Halifax. The leaves are just beginning to turn, but I think I will miss the bulk of the color. The Irish settled large parts of St. Johns and lots of Scots settled in Halifax. No surprise there, since Nova Scotia means New Scotland. Saw a few kilts being worn about town.
Take care,
-Keith of the Royal Canadian Mounties