Friday, September 13, 2013

Hopewell Rocks, Bay of Fundy, New Brunswick

I had great plans for my trip to the Maritimes. Flipping through my trusty guide showed a few things that flew to the top of my to do list, like Green Gables House (which I've since heard is not the former home of L.M. Montgomery as many locals say, but reproduction of some distant relative's house. Mental note: Google the details of this, self). I planned days to take the ferry to PEI, as well as hike the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia.

Not planned was the kind of chest cold that makes asthmatics like me cower in bed with an inhaler in one hand and a tube of Hall's cough drops in the other. A few days into my trip, my only goal was to make it home in one, breathing piece.

I did, however, manage to visit one spot on my list: the Bay of Fundy, in New Brunswick, which boasts the highest tides in the world.

Low tide

High tide (...holi-tide inn! If your woman starts acting up,
then you take her friend!)
We made our way to what I thought was the National Park mentioned in the book. My first inkling that it might be the wrong one is that my trio paid $24 to get in, as opposed to the $2 per person mentioned in the book. However, even if we had made it to the right park, the fees have gone up since my edition was printed.

At any rate, we missed walking along the ocean floor, thanks to some other tourists, like the kind who are told the admission rate and - in spite of the various large signs proclaiming the same information - seem surprised by the amount, and then have to express their puzzlement while retrieving their funds with a slowness that makes ketchup stuck in a bottle seem like it qualifies for the Indy 500. (There was also a couple who were arguing with the gate attendant because access to the ocean floor is closed off during high tide, and that couple wanted to walk along the floor, dang it! Seriously, they were arguing as if the attendant could just stop the tide from coming in. It was...something.)

The trip was still worthwhile, since the areas we could approach were very pretty. I'm hoping we make it back next year so I can walk along the shore at low tide.

The husband is good at so many things. Taking pictures is not
one of them. Here is a picture of me racing to the shoreline after
setting the self-timer. Obviously, I didn't run fast enough.
Yay, ocean - even if it is the Atlantic (which will do, but I am
from California, after all. Of course I think the Pacific Ocean is
the best. Because it is.)
   

Obligatory tourist-y shot.

Oh, wait! I glanced at my guide and realized that the entry for Nova Scotia is about Cape Breton Island and the Cabot Trail. So, I got one half of it done:


From a boat (answering the eternal question, "Would you, could
you, on a boat?" - as long as we're talking about taking pictures).

By the way, the Atlantic is freaking COLD.



Montreal, Quebec

Greetings from Vieux Montreal...about two months after the fact.
Well, I think I look good, considering the heat and humidity from that day.

Since I waited so long to make this post, I lost the exuberance I had during this visit. Even so, I know that Montreal is one of my favorite places to visit. There's a feel to the city that just captivates me, and I can't quite explain why. It's almost as if the place has a life of it's own: a soul that slumbers beneath the streets, its breath rising and falling to encompass the ground and air above, making me feel as if I've somehow been welcomed in, and please help myself to anything I find in the kitchen.

I found poutine. It was yummy. The curds were squeaky, which I mention only because a former co-worker from Quebec City would reminisce about the poutine from "home," how it tasted better in her province, and the curds squeaked.

Classic poutine.

Bug was not impressed, which just meant more for me.
In spite of the oppressive heat, we wandered around. It was pretty. Did I mention I can't wait to go back?

Oh, rats. This picture didn't turn out like I'd hoped. See that splash
on the lower right hand side? That was one of the birds trying to
cool off because it was so dang hot.
It's not a throat hug, but who wouldn't want a hug from a creepy looking doll?
There were a lot of buildings with the provincial flag.
"And this is why I told you not to touch that! Now
your hands are filthy!"