Deal, or no deal?

Las Vegas :: USA

About these young brothers in the city of sin.

Places: Las Vegas, Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon.

Coolest thing I did: Drove a convertible out to the Grand Canyon to watch the sun set.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: There are even poker machines in the airport in Vegas. The airport.

To be honest, besides gambling, prostitution and booze I didn't really know what to expect from Las Vegas, the home of my first annual 29th birthday (not one American has gotten that joke yet...). You first get an idea of what's in store for you when you pull up to your hotel and it's shaped like Camelot. Grant and I stayed in the Excalibur, whose theme you can probably guess from it's eateries having names like the Round Table Buffet and the Sherwood Forrest Cafe. If you like tack, you're in the right place. We then took a stroll through an Egyptian pyramid made of black glass and guarded by the Sphinx and a Malaysian garden. Giant golden Lions, the Eiffel tower, the statue of liberty, fountains that dance to adult middle of the road adult contemporary music: this place has it all.

I'm not much of a gambler, so Grant, who seems to be a bit of a blackjack guru, did most of the gambling for us on the first night. The Star Wars pokies were just the start. Here's a tip for those going to come here, it's very expensive to go out after half a litre of Vodka each. Despite many deleted scenes (more from memory loss that anything else) we managed to work out we blew quite a bit of money playing blackjack at the Bellagio and got separated when I went to the toilet and couldn't find my way back to the table. To be fair, these places are designed to get you lost when you're sober, so being drunk makes it impossible to find out where you were before you last turned around in a circle. We did discover that people will bring you “free” beer when you gamble, but I reckon somehow the Casinos come out ahead. The rest of the first evening involved Grant being asleep at McDonalds and me being thrown out of the MGM Grand for sitting on the escalators. And asking lots of people if they'd seen Grant, usually responded to by “who the hell is Grant?”.

There were more nights like this. Besides our best intentions I learned that it's not a good idea to make your first meal of the day a buffet lunch. I don't care how hung over you are, pork ribs and fried chicken for breakfast is a terrible idea. We went for an ill considered walk to find the famous Welcome to Las Vegas sign but gave up once we got to the end of the strip and had entered deep into dodgey-ville (pop. 1.5million). Despite the fact that we were staying in what we thought was white trash city, it gets far worse the further north you go. Lots of people with 19 kids trailing behind them with no shoes and mullets. Despite the rumored glamor of the place, the whole city lacks any level of class at all, even in the high end places. It's just more concentrated at one end.

The weather was tops and we actually spent some time in the sun by the pool during the days. The day after Grant left I also managed to find a golf driving range and hit a few balls without having to front the $500 it costs to do the same thing in the Wynn hotel. It was nice to think we didn't spend 24 hours a day in front of a poker table or slot machines, as appears to be the done thing here.

My actual birthday was probably the quietest night we had, being in bed by 2am and having drunk very little. I guess there's only so much you can take if you aren't a huge gambler. There is a definite lean towards the male here, meaning nightclubs are pointless as the only women in them are topless waitresses, many hired because they are women, not because they should be topless. I did have the best steak of the trip on the evening of my birthday, which is good because the night after Grant left I'm pretty sure I had nothing but Margaritas for dinner, which would explain my trying to get into nightclubs by tacking myself on to the end of big groups going in the VIP lines and fighting off hookers by asking them for outrageous acts for unreasonably low prices. Drunk single men seem to be a pretty good target so I think I had more women talk to me that one evening than in the rest of the week. In a place that prides itself on the fact you can order strippers to your room out of a catalogue I guess you can expect that.

I wonder about the fascination with animals though. If it's not caged tigers it's sharks or lions. I'm sure it's not good for them to be exposed to all the bright lights and noise, even if they are in a show or two. I guess that kind of explains why the eventually turn on their handlers, ala Sigfried and Roy.

I hired a car for the last day and thanks to a $10 upgrade, ended up with a convertible. As you make your way out of Vegas you can see just how barren the country this place was planted on is. Jagged cliffs and boulders jut out of miles of scrub and sand, and after a few hours of eating dust I decided that the convertible wasn't that good an idea after all. Still, it makes a cool story and I have sunburn that will soon look like a tan. The first stop was the Hoover Dam, which as far as I can tell was built so people who didn't need electricity in the depression due to being too poor would have jobs to provide electricity. It is, however, a pretty cool dam, as dams go. You can tell it was built in the 1930s by all the art deco touches everywhere, its kind of like the Chrysler building but rather as a feat of electrical engineering than a commercial tower. I was impressed, but didn't stay long as I woke up far too late and had to drive far and fast to make it to Le Canyon Grand.

Another 3 hours through the desert and I found myself face to face with another one of those tourist attractions that's either going to live up to the hype or suffer from the Mona Lisa Syndrome (“I thought it would be bigger”). It's hard to describe the place, especially at sunset but I was so glad I went. The colours are just radiant and almost seem to glow when reflecting the red in the background. It's a pity I took all my pictures a half hour before sunset and didn't remember to recharge my camera battery, but it's going to be hard to forget all those torn up cliffs and rifts glowing in the deepening sky. Oh, and it's also bigger than you think it's going to be, which is a nice change.

I have to say, after all yesterday's driving, I'm not as up on the whole Las Vegas thing as I was even 48 hours ago. I'd say a weekend is about all you can expect to stay here and keep your dignity intact. I guess when you found your country on the protection of liberty above all else, you're eventually going to end up with a Las Vegas at some point. It's one of those places that point out the frailties in human nature, the need for pure decadence and just plain sinning that we all have inside us, but some of us repress better than others. Practically anything you want to do that is bad for you can be done for a price here, sometimes in combination with other bad things. It's a spectacle thats worth seeing, but probably not for this long.

Charlotte airport is full of Nascar fans

Breckenridge :: USA

First a capital, then onto the snow.

Places: Washington DC, Charolotte, Breckenridge & Vail.

Coolest thing I did: Came to play in the snow.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: You can't even get within spitting distance of the White house but you can almost breathe on the original constitution.

Despite showing up to Washington DC on a long weekend, when much of the cities business has closed down, it did manage to live up to the hype of being a lot like Canberra, only less crap. If America is as much a set of ideals as it is a physical place then Washington is where these ideals are carved into stone. It's easy to admire the purity of the basic tenets of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness that are the basis of the American nation, and looking up at all those monuments to the key figures in the countries history it becomes even easier to get swept up in the seductive simplicity of having hard, fixed principles govern a country.

Well, that's how it works in theory, anyway.

Neo-classical seems to have been the order of the day when the three big arms of government were getting their homes set up, and despite not being able to get at all close to the White House you can't help but be impressed that so much of the world's business is decided in that one little building. I guess it's also a tribute to the strict separation of powers that the Capitol building and the Supreme Court are housed at the other end of town, with the court sitting on top of a hill, kind of fitting for the final arbiter of the laws made and executed in the other two.

That the great monuments (and the associated reflecting pools) are all either to presidents or war dead says a lot about the country. It's history has been forged into a complete narrative that can be used to tell school children the heroic and often bloody story of how the country came to be and what had to be done to keep it from all falling apart during it's many crises. I liked the elegant simplicity of the Vietnam war memorial and was most taken aback by the Jefferson memorial, even though it's less popular than Lincoln's due to location. All those enlightenment ideas that flowed from the man's pen into the founding documents of the US are emblazoned on the walls and despite having read quite a bit about his being a slave owner sprouting large about freedom and liberty, I admire those words.

The Smithsonian isn't so much a museum as a small town of museums. It's the repository of the nation's history, and like most nations, also it's spoils of war. I only went into the original institute and the American History museum but both have an impressive line up of stuff. I've read they are showing about 1% of what they have in their archives so what's in storage must be impressive. From Lincoln's top hat to the puffy shirt from Seinfeld there really is a large chuck of American history to learn about. What I did learn is that despite the positive narrative, when you look into the details the Americans have done just as despicable things in their history as many nations, they just choose to tell these as footnotes to the main story. I think one of the best things about Australian history is the self criticality that's built into it. I'd hate to see us end up with a grand narrative of our own, despite what Mr Howard would like.

The best thing I saw there was the national archives, which house the originals of those magic documents that house American's ideals. In one small rotunda is the Declaration of independence, the Bill of Rights, the Constitution, all it's written amendments and just outside is one of the four remaining copies of the original Magna Carta. If this is a country built on ideas then these are the blueprints.

Washington also has a nightlife of Saturday night, which surprised the hell out of me.

It also has a staggering homeless problem. In the shadow of all these halls of power, hordes of people struggle around in the cold, pushing shopping trolleys and begging for change. Without the politicos in town it becomes obvious that everyone is either a tourist or homeless and these people get very aggressive if you don't give them your loose change. It's a reminder that despite the lofty ideals set in stone in this place, the reality is that in practice, they don't work to enrich everyone.

So, my next stop was to the ski fields just outside Denver. Grant has set up shop in Breckenridge this year and has been kindly putting me up in the large household he's acquired this year. The town itself is large enough to support a whole ecosystem of shops, eateries and nightlife so it's a damn site easier for someone to live in than little Banff would have been. Despite only having got a few cm of snow on the first night when I arrived there has been a record base this year and I've spent day after day boarding down these ultra wide runs under a brilliant blue sky. I was impressed enough with Breckenridge itself but we also borrowed his mate's car and took a trip out to Vail, which is a world of it's own. It took us about 2 hours to get to the most distant mountain in the park and the scenery is just breathtaking. While Breck is very windy, and it's soft white peaks appear smudged at the edges due to powder drifting off into the wind, Vail has a variety of scenery that takes the breath away. From soft hills to jagged peaks that look like British teeth, brittle twigs of deciduous trees to lush pines covered in snow, it's what you expect from the Rockies.

I'm intrigued by the seasonal lifestyle that all these guys and girls live, mostly doing jobs they'd never consider otherwise for a lift pass. I feel a little inadequate trying to keep up with these people when I can barely link my turns, but I have to say that trying to keep up with Grant at slow pace has forced me out of the comfort zone I built up in Tremblant and improved me no end. Breck is much younger than Vail as far as workers and visitors go, so I feel a lot like an old man going out at night, but the fact you can get a jug of gut rottingly horrible beer for a mere $4 more than makes up for it. I can't help but people watch as these early 20-somethings go about eagerly making the same mistakes I did back then, just starting out on their irresponsible globe trotting runs. All that enthusiasm helps remind me why I started doing this in the first place.

And another one

Washington DC :: USA

More from the town of smoking manholes.

Places: New York, Washington DC.

Coolest thing I did: Saw a one woman, 13 part play "off-broadway" as they say in the industry.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The Smithsonian (off the institute fame) never set foot in the US, he just wanted to make sure their new country got off to a good start.

Since last we spoke I have been far more cultured, having gone to not only another art gallery, but also the theater in the space of a few days. Despite my usual dislike for modern art (including a legendary spat at the Tate Modern where I just ended up walking out it was all so stupid) I decided to go to the Museum of Modern Art (from here on in referred to as the MoMA). I'm glad modern meant from the late 19th century on as this means I ended up seeing loads more Van Goghs, Monets and the like. I have decided that Picasso used to be able to draw real good around the turn of the century but then obviously got his hands on some ketamine or something because everything after that looks like he's either looking at it through a broken window or a broken mind. I'm going to guess with all those pictures of absinthe bottles about the same time it was the latter. It was only towards the end that I saw all that really weird performance and installation art, some of which wasn't too bad. Then again, some of it was absolute nonsense so I felt vindicated.

I hate musicals. This fact coupled with everyone else on Earth seeming to love them no end meant I had some trouble locating something to see to tick a Broadway show off my tourist to do list. I ended up scouring the ultra liberal nonsense of the Village Voice looking for something to see that wasn't avant-guard nonsense put on by arts students and came up with a one woman show they'd panned called Bridge and Tunnel. I lined up for the half price tickets for that nights show (for anything that's not selling out months in advance you can get tickets for if you've got an hour to line up in Times Square) and wasn't sure what to expect. It turns out the woman is a genius of impersonation and she goes through a mock poetry reading done by New York immigrants. I swear she did a dozen different characters and each one was spot on and very bloody funny. There was also minimal singing, which was tops. I once saw Les Miserables and I swear to god that there wasn't that much singing in the French Revolution.

So running out of famous landmarks to gawk at I did a couple of visits to some themed areas. First day I did “rockstars that met untimely ends”. I had some trouble locating the unmarked Dakota building which saw the end of John Lennon but managed to figure out that all the tour buses were stopping out the front and everyone pointing at it. Say what you will about the man, but Mr Lennon has some impeccable taste in living arrangements. The building is amazing and right over the road from Central Park. I then took a rather long walk down to the Chelsea Hotel, which is famous mostly for lots of people who wrote stuff writing it there. It's also the location of the infamous death of Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols and his chick Nancy. As Chelsea was the hip place to have an art gallery a couple of years ago they now show lots of paintings by up and coming artists in the lobby.

The hip place now to have an art gallery appears to be Williamsburg, which is just over the river in Brooklyn. Williamsburg was once a complete hole and the fact you can see the towers of the Marcy projects that gave the world Jay-Z (and if his lyrics are to be believed, led to a lucrative career in selling crack cocaine) tells us that it's renaissance is rather recent. It's a whole load of run down warehouses and decrepit buildings being given splashes of paint and being turned into trendy cafes and loft galleries. While it is all very hip and happening it did seem a little two hip and happening for me. I'm sure I'll be wearing some of the nonsense I saw people got up in two years from now and think nothing of it, I'm going to bet 90% of the stupid getup these people are trudging around in trying to look trendily miserable will never make it to the mainstream. Thank god. One tip girls, you'll all be wearing ballet slippers within the next 12 months, mark my words.

I also decided to see how the other half lives up in Harlem. I started walking up posh arsed Park Avenue at about 86th street knowing that I'd reach Spanish Harlem just over 96th. It's amazing how it goes from mansions to housing projects by crossing one street. Once you hit the 120s you end up in the Harlem of legend, and despite the assurances that money is being pumped into the place to sort it out it still reeks of poverty. I can't see how anyone is surprised when you put people that are mostly poor into high densities in a very small space and give them a view of the richest people in the world and be surprised that there's some tension. I know they had to come up with something but the very design of those housing towers lends itself to problems. Putting four of them around an enclosed park that can't be seen from the road seems like a very bad idea. No wonder even the police were scared to go in there at one time.

Speaking of which, the reason crime seems to be down is that the police presence in the area is staggering. While standing on 125th street taking a photo of the Apollo theater (ground zero for much of the black musical talent of the last 40 years) police cars came screaming in from nowhere and demanded that everyone clear the block. One old man grumbled to me as I past that this happens all the time and that they just do it to stop the young blokes gathering on the street corners in groups of more than 3. I'm actually glad someone spoke to me because despite trying to be open minded the regular stares at me being the only white face on the street were getting unnerving. I'm sure these people are just trying to get through their problems like everyone else but when those groups of young 50 cent look a likes come down the footpath in front of you can't help but tense up. I even found myself trying to guess just how many handguns there would have been in one street alone. You can try and rationalise all you want, but it is a bit terrifying.

So my final stop in tourism land was to take the train up to the South Bronx and see what must be the soul of the city, Yankee stadium. While I'm no baseball fan I was in awe at the amount of history tied to the place and the hardened looking Italian local that took us around while explaining everything in an accent that you only hear on the Sopranos made it far more authentic. I guess the Americans know enough about marketing to make that team and ground world famous. I can't imagine someone who knew nothing about cricket being as impressed by the MCG.

The view from the stadium, as an added bonus, takes in the biggest, baddest housing projects of them all, dominating the skyline of the South Bronx. This, despite what some people claim, was the birthplace of hip-hop, and despite Brooklyn and Queens providing far more of the stars you've heard on the radio, it was the reaction to the sheer hopelessness of life in those towers and the required inventiveness to overcome it that gave us the rapping and scratching that now seem to colour all popular music.

What more can I say to you? New York has exceeded all expectations I'd placed on it. I now really do wish I'd been able to get out of Toronto on time so I could have spent another couple of days here but time has run out.

The view out on the bus was just as good. Once you get out of the tunnel on the New Jersey side and look back you can see the whole extent of the island, two massive waves of skyscrapers breaking over the low rise of the villages and Harlem. From the 5th avenue stores that look like museums (and make Oxford street look like Parklea Markets) to the streets full of yellow cabs and steaming manhole covers, it just is an incomparable place.

Believe the Hype

New York City :: USA

This is a Brooklyn bound L train.

Places: New York, New York.

Coolest thing I did: Watched kids snowboarding in the Park.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: People here are far from rude, in face I can't recall the last big city where people talk to strangers so much.

I'm going to try hard not to resort to hyperbole when describing New York City, but it's going to be hard. To try and hold it off for a short time, I will describe my day today, just to give you a taste. I spent the morning walking over the Brooklyn Bridge and wandering around the brownstones of the town of Brooklyn Heights, which includes a spectacular view over the North River to Manhattan. I had a pasta lunch that could only be described as spot on (I assume this is because this is where the actual Italians all moved once the Lower East Side became decrepit) and took the subway back to Manhattan to spend the afternoon lost in Greenwich Village before going up the Empire State Building to take the whole place in at miniature scale. That rates as a rather slow day since my arrival four days ago as I'm writing this instead of bar hopping around the East Village, which is where I happen to be staying.

As you can tell, I'm having the best time.

I've been in hyper tourist mode since I got here as there is no city I've ever been to that's been so good at promoting itself and every time I do one thing I find a vaguely remembered reference to something else very close by. My first day was spent wandering around the canyons of lower Manhattan, which alternates between the very old and the ultra new. Just around the corner from the brass bull statue out the front of the neoclassical facade of Rockefeller's Standard Oil building lies the NYSE and Wall street, the very heart and aorta of the capitalist animal. While the gold and cash have been replaced by innumerable electronic signals, it is no less the hub of our globalised financial system. There is no place on the planet, London, Frankfurt and Tokyo included (or even combined) has the feel of an unrestrained free market as Wall street, which must be why it gets to be the only logically straight road in the incongruously random streets of lower Manhattan. While the rest of the city follows the logic of vertical Avenues at right angles to Streets, the layout near the tip of the island looks almost Old World.

I took the Staten Island Ferry out for a close look at the Statue of Liberty and wasn't disappointed by either the view or not taking the option of walking on Liberty Island itself. If you were still able to climb the statue, I'd have paid to do so, but no one seems to see the ultimate irony of protecting the very symbol of liberty from the “evil doers” by taking away...erm...the liberty of the people to climb it.

I also went to look at the world's most evocative hole in the ground, where two towers originally hated by New Yorkers stood. It's hard, even now, to engage in conversation with someone who has lived here long enough to call themselves a New Yorker and not have the subject of those twin cavities or the saga of their replacement come up. Everyone has an opinion here, and isn't afraid to give it out. I love that.

I spent a day in the middle of Manhattan looking at all those skyscrapers that make the place famous. In stark contrast to the business like nature of the Downtown, the beauty of some of the structures just south of Central Park can't be denied. I was fascinated by anything art deco even before coming here but seeing the Empire State, Chrysler and Rockefeller Center up close has moved me to almost make this a love letter to all things with vertical bars and gods on them. Sure, there are some monstrosities. Take the UN building, or even better Donald Trump's love letter to both extreme capitalism and himself. Looking at the GE building compared to the gold and red marble edifice that is Trump Tower only shows that there's no accounting for taste, and that the old money of the 30s at least left us something beautiful, whereas I can't see too many people falling in love with the debris of the 80s.

Having said that, the ode to the combination of capital and labour written by John D Rockefeller and engraved outside his eponymous Plaza is pure gilded age piffle that could have easily been penned by Ayn Rand (in fact, I wonder if the Atlas statue out the front in any way inspired her book title?). As a man that spent his life running an empire provided by his father by engaging in business tactics that are now illegal in most of the world it seems a bit rich for him to be telling us about the beauty of humanities achievements through the sweat of it's own brow. It's a reminder that just like the monuments left by every other civilization before this one, it's the veneration of the rich and powerful that leaves the lasting mark on the world. I guess that's the price we pay.

The Met also lived up to the hype. While they have none of the most famous artworks from any particular artist, period or culture, the sheer number of works can easily fill a day or more to see. My only regret is the most famous picture, of Washington crossing the Delaware River wasn't on display because the extensive American wing was closed for some reason. However a whole truck loads of Rembrandts, Dalis, Van Gogh and Monets more than make up for that. The Americans don't seem immune from the prestige projects of the late 19th century that saw the Met end up two entire Egyptian temples taken from their home land and reconstructed on US soil. I'd assumed that was a European kind of arrogance but it seems that in the struggle to define itself as a real country, the game of oneupmanship that infected Europe at the time crossed the Atlantic too.

As an added treat, the winter that never came ended on Saturday night with almost a meter of snow falling on the city. This left Central Park blanketed in snow and the Sunday afternoon crowds out to enjoy it as best they could. There were cross country skiers, tobogganers mixing it up with snowball fighters and snowman builders, but by far the coolest thing was the snowboarders. These kids built a jump at the bottom of a stair case and were going down at full tilt over the jump to the applause of a waiting crowd. All nominally in the middle of a city. This place is beyond unique.

So the hostel is a dive, but it's got a good crowd and it's located on the border of the East Village and the increasingly less dodgey Alphabet City. When compared with the gentrification of the world famous Greenwich Village on the other side of Washington Square, the East Village is a combination of down and out and hip. I've been going to a different cheap restaurant, bar or club every night (sometimes several bars) and there's no end of new ones in sight. I'd have thought going into these hip places would leave me feeling like an outsider but I reckon I've yet to get more than 10 mins after ordering a beer without a conversation starting with a complete stranger. God, these people love to talk. I admit, it's about work more often than not, they do seem to take an interest and love the chance to talk about themselves to a foreigner just as much. Pity the bar staff are so universally surely. Perhaps they'd rather be out on a Saturday night.

It does, however, seem like a tragically hip and naive part of town. Whilst sitting at a Belgian bar at about 3am, myself and an English bloke I happened to be out with noticed two blokes started slapping each other and rushed out into the street for a fight. It was like no one had ever seen one before. While we gave it a subtle glance over our shoulders and continued drinking the place emptied to go and watch. I guess when everyone is dressed like it's a Napoleon Dynamite conference you don't get many fights.

Right, my love letter to my new favorite city (sorry Berlin) has to end for now, but more is sure to come soon.

Game On

Boston :: USA

Where everyone is Irish.

Places: Boston & Salem.

Coolest thing I did: Superbowl Sunday. The commercials alone were worth it.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: No one was actually burnt at the stake during the Salem Witch trials. Several hangings, one pressing but no burnings. What a cop out.

I was supposed to leave Toronto the day after my work and lease ended but events conspired against me at the very start of my US trip. Thanks to several delays along the way I ended up being stuck in TO for an extra 4 or 5 days, but had a very good time being there and not working. It's hard leaving all those people I've met over the last 12 months, it's been a good time in my life. There's the downside of having to build up a whole new bank of conversation with new people but then there's the upside of all my jokes being new again. On the balance I'm pretty happy to be starting my big trip in the US.

So the background is I have a flight from LA to Dublin on the 16th of March and the time in between is all mine. At almost the last moment I booked myself on a Greyhound from Toronto and Boston (as opposed to New York), not recalling the last time I was on a long bus ride just how dull it can be. Thirteen and a half hours is a long time to spend on a bus through lots of dead tress and abandoned farm houses but it beat the $500 plane ticket option. I have to say that it's not the upper echelons of US society that catch the bus and it was pretty obvious from the get go that there were some weirdos on my bus. At one point the bus driver stopped the bus because this woman was screaming at her to turn the lights on and we had to wait while the police came and picked her up. Add to this I'd only eaten from Dunkin' Donuts, Subway and McDonalds in the last 12 hours and all my preconceptions of the US were being fulfilled. Thank god that ride ended.

The first thing that strikes you about Boston is the city is a mix of very old and ultra new being torn to pieces to make it more livable. The rump of Boston itself (wedged between the Charles River and the harbor) has been riven open with new freeways and had big tunnels poked through it. Apparently it's been going on for about two decades now so no-one seems to notice just what an unfinished state it's in. You kind of get used to the juxtaposition of freeways, parks and buildings as you walk along but it makes it very hard to navigate.

My first day was spent doing the tourist walks and learning just how little I know about American history. Here is the site of the Boston Massacre, here is where the Declaration of Independence was first read out, and so on. I'm trying to catch up quickly, but I'm constantly hearing new names and events and just trying to mash them into some kind of narrative in my head. I think the idea of conservation of historical sites came very late to Boston as there tends to be two story historical buildings wedged between a couple of skyscrapers of at least 20 odd floors. It's not a bad thing, it shows that the city has continued to progress and be a centre of commerce for the US but it does make it very hard to take pictures that just aren't all black.

The strangest thing is the turning of old public buildings into commercial sites to help fund their preservation. The beautiful old stone town hall was replaced by a concrete structure that redefines ugly and the old site has actually been taken over by an upmarket Steak House. I'm not sure if that's admirable or not but at least it's still there.

I've noticed that this is a city of joggers. I've been unable to take a picture without getting either a random jogger or an American flag in it.

It was pointed out to me last night that by mingling with the locals strictly at bars I'm only going to meet the local drunks. While this is true I can't think of another way to do it. The nightlife has been excellent, even if the beer is American. Some of the local pubs brew their own, which has been quite acceptable but if that's not on offer then it's all the generic crap that passes as beer here. The best night out so far was Superbowl Sunday. I didn't realise so many of the places would be holding organised parties so I ended up in a row of pubs on Union Street and found the first one that would let me in. I ended up propping myself on the bar between a couple of blokes from South Boston and a couple of girls from North Boston and much merriment and Guinness resulted. I learned that most people from Boston claim to be Irish but that none of them actually are. I also learned that people have been browbeaten into thinking their accent is ugly that they've just started to accept it. I have to say I find the broad accent far easier on the ears than the ones you get on TV and was quite popular for saying so. I also learned that telling people from South Boston that Guns and Roses are a second rate AC/DC is dangerous. Lucky I don't think anyone understood a word I said.

The US ads for the Superbowl are a contest in who can be funniest. I can't describe most of them but I hope they get played wherever you are as there were some gems.

I spent a day walking around Cambridge and the jewel of the US education system that is Harvard. When you come from a Uni that has such a utilitarian feel as UTS and it's 28 story office block then you can't help but be gobsmacked that people actually study in nice looking places. My head was telling me how elitist the whole place is but my heart was all for all the thinking that must go on there. I also found myself back there at night hearing the philosopher Kwame Appiah talk about his book Cosmopolitanism in the Harvard book store. I felt pretty inspired to do some hard thinking about stuff but didn't manage to do much. Instead I went to the pub for tea and watched basketball.

Just down the street from the beauty of Harvard is the pure geekiness of MIT. I had planned to walk around the buildings much like I did at it's more humanities based cousin but you get lost very quickly and soon I found myself wandering around the basements of the buildings watching people in lab coats weld things, shoot things with lasers and things like that. It was like watching people go for their PhD in Mad Science. I didn't see any very big computers but it was still very cool.

I should also mention my trip out to Salem. I went out there for the witch trial related tourism but found out that it's all a bit of a scam. All they want to tell you about is their proud maritime history. I didn't want to hear about boats, I wanted to hear about (and if possible see) witches being burnt at the stake. While I learned some stuff by reading plates nailed to walls I didn't really see all that much witch-related stuff. It was, however, a nice town, but that didn't really justify the trip out. I did learn that the whole thing was a bit of a cock up. Apparently one of the local preachers became a sort of expert on witches and published THE textbook on witchery in the late 1690s. This inspired two young local girls to have a bit of a joke and pretend to be possessed by the devil. When they were cornered they fingered a local slave (a half black, half Indian woman) who was hung for witchcraft. The girls then decided to see off quite a few more people and the accusations started flying thick and fast as everyone in town got in on the act. It was only when the governors wife was fingered by someone in some sort of plea bargain that the madness stopped (can't be hanging any rich people, after all). I especially liked the fact you could have "spectral testimony" meaning if you were the only one who heard a spirit tell you someone was a witch then no one could dispute you. Funny if it still didn't happen, only now you call people 'terrorist' instead of 'witch'.

So far the only history I've put together is there were these blokes called the Puritans, who didn't like the king of England persecuting their religion so they got on a boat and came to American where they could have the liberty to persecute whomever they liked. Then something happened and there was a war with the French. Then the local high-and-mighties got annoyed at the English for taxing them to pay for this war with the French so they dumped a whole lot of tea into Boston harbor. Then there was a war with the English. Then the US was a country. I'm sure I'm missing some bits but you get the gist.

Oh yeah, one of these local high-and-mighties (Sam Adams) has a beer named after him.

On balance, my first stop in the US has been pretty good to me. Tomorrow I'm on a bus to the city that never sleeps and I'm sure there will be lots more to write there.

Happy Holidays!

Toronto :: Canada

The paradox of keeping religion out of Christmas.

Places: Blue Mountain, Toronto Intl, Mount Tremblant & Montreal.

Coolest thing I did: Took a punt on going into the strike zone that is Mount Tremblant this year and had the best time boarding ever.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Poutine is only considered the real thing if it uses chicken gravy. Beef gravy is considered a pernicious Anglo-Saxon addition.

Oh, how the Canadians like to make fun of their brethren down south, with their lack of insight into the world, their poor public services and their downright silly litigate-everything-in-sight mentality. One thing, however, that they can't claim to do differently is how tightly they have embraced political correctness in the face of common sense. People quite happily wish you a "Happy Holidays" and products such as "Holiday Trees" and "Seasons Decorations" line the shelves at Wal-mart. I understand not wanting to offend people with different religions but I doubt very much anyone is offended by the observance of what is a Christian tradition. No matter how much you try to separate the profitable gift giving part from those pesky religious overtones that tradition still stands. Pure silliness.

Due to being overseas at Christmas and the fact that the Canadians I know would all be home with their parents the decision was made amongst the Working Holiday ex-pattery that I know here that we should hire a condo in the snow and have ourselves a Christmas lunch. This was a fine idea so the venue was chosen as a small ski resort a couple of hours north of Toronto at a place called Blue Mountain (unlike Sydney, they only have one Blue Mountain). After an unexpected night on the cheap red wine with the Japanese neighbor downstairs the night before I got on the early morning Greyhound and out we went.

While the mountain itself does not actually live up to the title (it's more of a hill, it even has parking at the 'summit') it does have lots and lots of ski runs available and I can see myself taking another trip up there to do some actual boarding. This time however, we dropped our bags off and proceeded to down some hamburgers and plant ourselves at the pub to entertain the other patrons. Not much snow sports got done except for rides on something called a magic carpet, which is really a small sheet of plastic with handles. Oh, and all the boys worked tirelessly on turning someone else's half finished snow man into a snow woman. There were disagreements on how busty to make her and the amount of padding on the booty but the results were a little too good in the end. Once this was done we moved on from Gin and Tonics to shots. Keep in mind this is about 5pm on Christmas Eve.

In a pattern that would repeat itself for the next week we found ourselves in a ski resort nightclub populated by people roughly half our age. I don't know what it is about these places and underage kids, but I'm taking it it's a trade off between filling the club with people willing to pay money and legality. What happened next is a bit hazy but I'm sure it was a good time as I woke up rather early to the sounds of a turkey being prepared and was still drunk enough to cook everyone breakfast. I think the general chipperness around the place pointed to everyone else being in a similar state of mind.

There was a hard crash somewhere around noon and the food preparation suffered a little. While I didn't think things turned out too bad the general consensus turned out to be that everything prepared was a bit crap and no one really had the stomach for solids by the time we ate. A sign of a good night before if ever I've seen one. I returned on the only Christmas Day bus to Toronto, ate my baked beans on toast because I was too forgetful to remember I had no food in the house and went to bed early for my 6am start on boxing day.

I've had some rough trips on my travels, as this diary is testament to at times, but Boxing Day this year is up there with the worst. I arrived at Toronto airport at about 7am for my 9:40am flight only to have to line up for a couple of hours to reach the checkin desk. By the time I get there I'm informed my flight has been canned for mechanical reasons and my flight is now leaving at 5:30pm. The $20 voucher the compensated me with did little to offset the boredom of Pearson International airport, buying me nothing more than a slice of pizza and two beers. Man, that must be the dullest airport in the world. So I check in at 5pm and go through security to find out the flight has been pushed back until 7:30pm. This made it a physical impossibility of me getting up to Mount Tremblant as the last bus left Montreal at 8pm. At this point I found myself a random employee of Westjet, the airline at fault and hold them hostage until my demands were met. Oh she tried to fob me off and give me 1-800 numbers but I was having none of it. In the end I got myself $100 refund and a charted bus up to Tremblant whenever they managed to get me to Montreal. On arrival (the plane was further delayed so I ended up getting to Montreal at about 10pm) I found out that so many people were late the charter company had managed to get $150 per head from Westjet for a 2.5 hour bus ride. Pretty good work. I ended up convincing the girl working at the hostel to wait up for me an climbed into bed at about 1am, in my clothes and not bothering with sheets.

I had been told there was industrial action going on between the resort workers and Intrawest that own most of Canada's ski resorts so I was more than prepared to not get up to the mountain the whole 4 days and reduced service and runs. This turned out, however, to not be much of an inconvenience at all. There is only one mountain with lifts on it an a gondola goes all the way up to the summit from the base, meaning they can keep most of the mountain open with a skeleton crew. Add to this the fact that sticking to blue and green runs (that's about the level I can handle) it takes close to 40 mins to get from the summit to the gondola station in the village below. While the lines at the bottom were longer than they should have been this was partially offset by the droves of people who were scared off by the strike and went elsewhere to ski. It was a real gamble coming up but it paid off in spades.

I can't say enough good about Mount Tremblant itself. We had either clear blue skies or foggy mornings followed by clear blue skies in the afternoon and fresh snow three out of the four nights I was there and the conditions couldn't have been much better. The physical beauty of the area is a completely different kind to that in Banff, relying on snow covered pines and frozen lakes in place of jagged peaks as far as the eye can see. You get to some of the turns that overlook the valley below and can't help but stop to take photos. I've also been told it's usually closer to -20 than the -5 it was most days so even the weather wasn't too bad (though no the last day it dropped considerably, registering a -25 ambient temperature at the summit) and you didn't need to cover your face to protect against frostbite.

I think the fresh snow and lack of crowds also helped my snowboarding no end. I made more progress on these 4 days than I probably did in the previous 15 days of learning. While I'm still no expert I found myself in that zen moment when you stop thinking about what you are doing and the body takes over. Instead of looking at my feet or a metre in front I was looking well into the distance and even planning my route down the mountain in larger terms of where to position myself at the next turn or steep incline. I also found less and less points I had to feather down the mountain rather than linking sharp turns to slow myself down. It was a brilliant experience as it's probably the only physical activity I've attempted to learn from scratch in years. It also fed my confidence enough to listen to music all the way down, which only adds to the ability to let your mind wander away from trying to control what you are doing with your conscious mind. I miss it already.

The Tremblant village actually refers to the original village, which is where I stayed as opposed to Mount Tremblant, which is a replica Alpine village used to hold the hotels, boutiques and restaurants that bring Intrawest it's money. Oh, and of course the bars. Once again the order of the day was either the very young or the very old and I doubt greatly the effectiveness of ID checking going on up there. Still, the real village was very quiet and even if you missed the bus into the resort someone always seemed to be around to give you a lift. From riding in the back of a pick up truck (which was bloody freezing) to getting a lift home at 1am from the staff of the local sushi restaurant, some of the trips home were better than the actual nights out.

The reaction to the strike reminds me of Camus' The Plague. Everyone seemed to believe they were by far the most inconvenienced by the whole thing and required some kind of retribution from both the strikers and Intrawest. Demands for discounts and special treatment abounded and I'm quite glad most of the 200 management staff who were actually working told most of them to use their common sense. You can either have someone groom an extra run at night so you can go skiing or have that person make your bed. I saw very little sucking up, but that may have also been the two weeks of 14 hour days the staff were all working. I doubt there was much energy left for toleration of fools. I'm not too surprised that the users of the mountain were mostly anti-striker. I heard all sorts of foolish justifications on why they should accept they weren't getting a pay rise and go back to work. I was far more sympathetic to the strikers demands, which may have cut into Intrawest's profits but on balance pushed the wage for the workers somewhere closer to sensible than it was before. A $13CAD an hour average pay rate, much of which is for skilled work smells a bit like exploitation to me. But then again, not many people who can afford to go to Tremblant skiing (myself included) know what it's like to work for peanuts. Seeing as Intrawest make a fortune paying the non-union labour at places like Whistler-Blackcomb even less I think they can afford to give a little here.

So I went back down to Montreal for New Years Eve due to a lack of initial accommodation in either Tremblant or Montreal. I was told it was the party capital of Canada at the end of every year and from what I'd seen on past trips I had no reason to doubt it. I decided to give the idea of paying a single huge cover charge ($70+) for a single club and go crawling around the city to see what I could find to do. As it was bloody freezing outside I chose to put my bags in a locker at the bus station overnight and catch a movie until things started livening up a bit.

Syriana is a very, very complex movie. I walked out of there more confused than impressed, but after a couple of days to think about it I can see the brilliance in the story. Highly recommended.

I started off in a couple of pubs along the Crescent and soon enough hooked up with a random bunch of drunk Americans up from Boston. This would later prove to be my undoing. In a rapidly moving night we shifted to the St-Laurent part of town via some outdoor fireworks and at least two separate visits to fast food restaurants. The St-Laurent area is far more trendy but this did mean cover charges, even after midnight but everyone was a bit too drunk to care by then. Along the way the yanks were doing their best to pick up random women and by the end of the night we were in a rather seedy looking pub with nothing much going for it except the fact that it was still serving alcohol. A small subset of the group remained doing shots of Vodka when last drinks were called (I was obviously oblivious to the fact I had to be on a plane at 7am) and one of the girls suggested we go to a house party of a mate of hers who lived in the area for more drinks. This seemed like a fine idea until we hit the cold outside and one of my new mates tried to get a bit of a kiss from this girl but inadvertently vomited all over her. Pure class. Needless to say that put the breaks on the whole party idea and I found myself with probably the only sensible yank left eating smoked meat sandwiches until 4am.

It was a long, cold and rather sobering period between 4am and getting into my bed in Toronto at 9am. A sign informed me that the temperature was hovering at around -23 and despite wearing long underwear and all the clothes I could get out of my bag and put on the hour wait for a cab at the bus station was pretty miserable. If you are standing still your snot freezes and any exposed skin hurts like it's being whipped. With hindsight a 7am flight was rather foolish this time around. I managed to be in a pretty foul mood by the time I got back to Toronto and proceeded to spend all of New Years Day in bed. I look back at the night and I had a great time but it would have been made perfect by having somewhere to crawl home to at 4am.

So now I'm in the home stretch for Toronto. Everything going to plan I should be finishing up working here at the end of January and I should be heading to New York the day after. I'm just waiting for my passport to come back with an Irish visa and them I'm away.

I think I like snow

Toronto :: Canada

Brrrr, it's cold in here.

Places: Toronto.

Coolest thing I did: Went for my agency Christmas drinks on top of the Manulife Centre. Pity about the view.

(un)Coolest thing I didn´t know: Canadian elections are even more boring that Australian ones.

After a blink-and-you'd-miss-it autumn, winter has arrived in it's most pleasant form. While the nastier winds I was promised have been intermittent over the last month or so the snow has been falling in great big, slow falling flakes and it's quite spectacular. After wading through grey slush and having wet ice fall on me in the UK I was a little skeptical that snow was anything like it was on TV, but I've had my faith renewed by the last few weeks. Last night was the heaviest single fall we've had and I walked through the softly falling flakes from the subway and was surprised at just how pleasant it was. Add to this the novelty of the snow capped houses and skeletal trees and I'm really enjoying this.

The Canadians appear to take some perverse pleasure in telling me how much worse it's going to get. When I say I'm enjoying the winter they boldly laugh and go on to tell me about the time so much snow fell the army had to come and plow the streets. Or how it's going to get to -20, -30 or even -45 at some point soon, which to someone where the winter gets down to +10 sounds pretty close to the point where atoms stop moving. The Ontarians are not the worst though, anyone who comes from the flat cold middle bit of the country love to tell stories about digging out meters of snow from their doorway before going to work on their snowmobiles.

I'm starting to doubt the authenticity of some of these claims. It's kind of like when Australians tell people we all surf and wrestle crocodiles for fun.

I had my work Christmas party and the band was Kool and the Gang (yes, THE Kool and the Gang), which meant I did lots of not knowing what any of the songs they were singing were expect for Jungle Boogie. I'm assuming they all get together with John Travolta, Uma Thurman and Sam L Jackson every Christmas and give thanks to Tarantino for rescuing their careers. There would be no black Jedi without him.

I had my agency party last night, which was a far more noteworthy affair. They hired out the restaurant at the top of the Manulife Center on Bloor Street, from where I'm told the view usually competes with that from the CN tower. It also coincided with the biggest snow storm we've had thus far and I thought that they had pulled the blinds down when I first got up there. No, that was the wall of snow limiting the visibility to about 10 cms outside the window. Anyway, there was an open bar which more than made up for the lack of view and the fact I didn't really know anyone there. My agent spent a bit of time introducing me to lots of other contractors and man, was there some money in that room. I was starting to wonder why I don't own a Porsche and go skiing in Switzerland but then I remembered I'm not a tosser. It was an interesting bunch but I have to say I'm kind of glad I don't hang out with rich people very often. The walk home from the subway station through the park in the snow was very nice, but I have a feeling it was made more pleasant by the fact I was drunk.

Christmas, as you are probably aware, is approaching with some speed. I decided to take the whole week off in between Christmas and New Years and there isn't going to be much sitting still done. As it common with all the working holiday ex-pattery, we're having an Orphans Christmas Party here and it's a mostly Antipodean affair. Some girls I know have organised an appartment at the Blue Mountain ski resort a couple of hours north of the city so I've decided to go up for Christmas Eve and come back on Christmas Day. I'd already planned a trip up to the resort at Mt Tremblant in Quebec over my week off so I'm fitting all that in. Blue Mountain is supposed to be more of a hill than a mountain so I'd rather go to the best place I can within striking distance of here and try and get some more snowboarding under my belt. My goal this winter is to go from shakey and crap to steady and crap on a snowboard and I think it will be helped by actual snow and long runs rather than hills you can walk up and long queues for the ski lifts. I have been warned Tremblant is very friggin cold so I'm going to go buy thermals and a balacalva this weekend. I'm a little concerned at how on earth you figure out what size thermal underwear you are supposed to buy as I doubt you can try it on.

Problems we just don't have at home, eh?

I'll end up on the note that the Canadians have decided to have yet another election, only 18 months after the last one. If you thought politics was dull at home you should see it here. Not only are half the debates in French, but the leaders have zero charisma and all the policies are so damn sensible. I guess this is the price you pay for good government, dull politicians.

Mouldy Pumpkins

Toronto :: Canada

Haloween appears to be a bigger deal than I thought, even for grown-ups.

Places: Toronto.

Coolest thing I did: Carved a proper haloween jack-o-lantern.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The of Jack (he of the lantern) was originally about a squash, not a pumpkin.

So Haloween rolled around and I was a little unprepared for it to be treated like a second Christmas. The amount of effort that goes into decorations and costumes for the big night is a little worrying, but both the kids and the adults seem to have a good time. While our own efforts were a little half hearted we did decide to get a bit of good old-fashoined pumpkin carving under our belt.

Has anyone else ever actually tried to carve a pumpkin? I don't think I've even cooked something with pumpkin in it before so it was an eye opener to see just what the hell is in one of those things. After hacking a suitable lid out of the stem and ripping the hole open you're confronted with a whole load of sticky, seed ridden goo, kind of like a big orange spider's web that's been smacked with a sunflower. While the actual carving is a whole load of fun the cleaning out of the goop is tedious. A tip is don't try and scratch it out with a fork. Once you work out this is a stupid idea you also have a whole lot more work to do with the spoon, which is the proper instrument in this situation.

Still, after a bit of work we were all standing around the kitchen table beaming proudly down on our new member of the household. We tried to name it but no consensus could be reached so it was forever known as 'the pumpkin' or alternatively, 'pumpkin'. The pride lasted about as long as it took to go to the Haloween party we had been invited to that night.

Some of the pumpkins that had been carved out as decorations in shop windows and even at the party made ours look, well, a little ordinary. How long must it take to carve out "Happy Haloween" in old English on both sides of a tiny little pumpkin? Too long to bother with, even if it does look a bit cool.

The party we went to last Saturday night saw myself and Yvette don rubber masks purchased from the chemist the day before, chosen mostly to not look stupid on the streetcar on the way there and to allow beer to be drunk through the cleverly placed mouth holes. We, once again, were a little underdone compared to everyone else. The costumes were all very well done, and some were even very inventive. One of our mates went as a vending machine and even gave you stuff when you pushed her buttons (oo-eer). As the night dragged on and her responsed got slower and more erratic they placed an 'Out of Order' sign on her, which was tops. All the backpackers we know who showed up put in quite an effort we thought. That is, until the Canadians started to arrive.

The best costume of the night had to be the "Danger Will Robinson" robot from Lost in Space who had blinking lights fixed on the front of it. We all felt a little shamed by the effort (well, more drunk than shamed, but there was some shame in there) but the Canadians didn't seem to mind. I was talking to a bloke who used to live out in Sydney and knew didn't give a toss about Haloween so was surprised some of us put in the effort we did. Despite the build up of saliva and sweat in my rubber mask, I tried to keep it on in recognition of those who put in so much mroe effort than me.

Much fun had by all.

Our landlord put up a sign on the doorbells directing all the kids trick or treating to his floor, which I thought was tops, but the girls in our house decided wasn't fair. However, once the 700th (or so) kid showed up looking for sugary treats it did seem like a good idea after all. I reckon if was faced with sugar hyped kids all night I would have become a bit sick of it but the locals seem to love the whole thing. It's either that or they don't want kids throwing eggs at their houses. I heard this one story of kids filling their SuperSoakers with wee and demanding junk food or the dousing of the householder in urine would result. I'm sure that could be classed as armed robbery and get you 10 years.

So I put our now furry pumpkin out last night for the garbage man. It only took about 12 hours for it to start smelling funny and the aroma of penecilin was unmistakable when walking into the house yesterday. I'm not sure how long they are supposed to last, but it seems to be a leading factor why people display them outside their houses, not like we did.

On a side note we indulged Yvette's culinary fantasies on her last night here by going out for dinner in the poshest Tapas bar in the world, Jamie Kennedy Wine Bar. No reservations are taken so you show up, they take your mobile number and you get a call back sometime in the next hour when they have a table. We ended up with a nice little number out the back where the really expensive wines are racked (and probably rigged up to alarms). The idea is that the menu changes daily so you just have a small plate of everything and they suggest a wine to go with each one. We tried this idea at first, but it was becoming rapidly too expensive so we went for a bottle instead with our last few dishes. Duck liver, Poutine with pork belly, rare beef and mushroom gratin, it's all pretty rich stuff. I enjoyed it more than I let on, but I think the range of food is more to do with the fact that most of us are too poor to eat there more than once, so we'd best get our try of the whole range on that one visit. Still, Yvette loves all that kind of gourmet stuff so was pretty happy with the whole thing.

Leafs

Toronto :: Canada

Another trip into the French bit. Includes whales.

Places: Montreal, Quebec City & Tadoussac.

Coolest thing I did: Saw whales with my own two eyes.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Whales mate whilst several metres above the water. Man, that sounds hard.

Whilst most of this post is about the trip myself and Yvette just undertook over the Thanksgiving weekend to Quebec to see things we wouldn't see in downtown Toronto it has to be mentioned that we've been hosting Grantos recently. He's returned to Canada for the very last part of his Working Holiday visa, but to do more holidaying than working. I was slighly embarrassed that he seems to know more Canadians in Toronto than I do but as a happy side effect we were introduced to another source of ultra cheap jugs of beer at a student pub called Eiensteins. Viva life.

Hockey returned to Canada last week and it's made people quite happy (well, those that give a toss about hockey, which is most men my age at least). Grantos and I spent and evening in front of the TV at one of the only real pubs close to my place observing the locals observe their national sport. Due to the year off and several rule changes as part of the deal to end the players strike they seemed just as confused about what was going on as we were. We saw the Maple Leafs (I know, it's a crime against English but that's how they spell it) play Ottawa into a penalty shoot out and no one in the bar could agree on the actual rules of penatly shoot outs. I felt a little less clueless as a result. Good fun and hangovers were the result.

As an incredibly subtle segue I'll now mention that we went on to Quebec mostly so Yvette could observe the leaves (not leafs) change colour. I admit to being initially a little unsuportive of this endevour but have since reneged my leaf teasing ways. It was something else to see the rolling hills of southern Quebec (the province, not the city) ablaze with various reds and oranges. The fact that different trees changes at different times means there is a whole splash of contrasting colours to observe. Ok, it's hard to explain but it is cool. It would want to be because the drive between Montreal, Quebec City and Tadoussac is a long one.

The return to Montreal really smacked me in the fact with just how utilitarian a city Toronto is. I've alluded to being able to find Toronto's hidden charms over time but Montreal is so obviously superior in every way that it's made me question again why Toronto was the place to settle. Then I remember I can't speak any real French and the pseudo French I do know is strangled so badly by my Australian accent that no one can understand what I'm attempting to stumble over anyway. But I digress. After dropping our bags off and walking up Rue Cresent for a beer you could see just how much the place had come to life in summer. It was a happening strip when it was subzero degrees and snowing but add decent weather and it was already pumping by 10pm. Better buildings, better beer, cool European stylings, just way, way, way better than Toronto. Come to think of it Vancouver was way better too, and the speaking French argument won't hold there. But I digress.

So the next day it was off down the senic route to Quebec City. I like Quebec City, but it has nothing in common with Montreal. It's the only walled city remaining in North America so should appear stuck in the past but it does have a certain cool added to it by a high student to real person ratio. It reminds me of all those old University cities in Germany that have populations of 40,000 and it's 80% students. In our two stints in QC over the weekend we did managed to leave the walls and go have some food and beers where the students do and it was a very chilled vibe to be hanging out in. Except for that crazy bloke hanging out the window yelling "I'm smoking the fucking drugs!" to passers by. That was more hilarious than relaxing.

QC has not one but several Chateux based on the Fairmont hotel school of architecture. In most Canadian cities you'll find a castle like structure that looks like it should be somewhere in the Loire Valley, only made out of grey stone with green roofing. These are mostly owned by the Fairmont hotel chain and used to be the stop off point for monies 19th century individuals who wanted to travel in luxury on these new fangled 'train' things. The one on Lake Louise is the most famous example but the one looking out of the St Lawrence river from QC is supposed to be the most photographed hotel in the world (the LP says building but I reckon the Pyramids or Taj Mahal would have to take that cake). Add to this the narrow cobbled streets at the base of the wall and it looks like the French did their very best to recreate post medieval France in North America. It's a nice attempt but you really can't create that layered effect of building one house on the rubble of another if you only start in the 1600s. It did, however, get many flashbacks of middle Europe while walking the streets. It's funny how these memories sit lodged somewhere in the back of your brain until a little cue like cobbled streets set them off. It was very nice.

The drive from QC to Tadoussac is a whole other expressionist painting. I mentioned the leaves were very nice to look at earlier, well north of QC they are nothing short of spectacular. OK, as spectactular as leaves can possibly be. Rolling hills stretch off to the horizon and these are just chock full of firery hues. You see less and less of the evergreens and more stark contrasts of red on orange and yellow so it looks almost unreal. Yvette just sat curled up on the car seat and said "pretty" a lot. I guess it was worth going up there for.

Tadoussac is a small little hamlet and was the first French fur trading post in North America (this may not actually be true, but thats what they told us) that is now really only famous for one thing: whales. While it is very nice, remote and must be reached by ferry I can't imagine too many people come up just for the scenery. I think it's a small miracle that it isn't more tourist-centric than it actually is. We stepped into the tourist information place (they use '?' instead of 'i' so it's a little confusing) and the woman got a bit of a smirk on her face when we said "we'd like to see the whales". Not too many people would come in asking for giraffes, would they? It took very little effort to get on a boat for the next morning.

Our host at the B&B we stayed at was very friendly and wanted to make sure we squeezed the most out of the stay. I've decided looking for whales involves lots of being cold. We hiked out to the narrowest point over the fjord that meets the St Lawrence at Tadoussac to watch the sunset and hopefully see some whales. We did not but it was nice. We then climed the hill overlooking the town to watch the sun rise and hopefully see some whales. We did not but it was nice. It did not, however, set me up to be that hopeful of actually seeing whales on the boat. We scoffed down a bread and butter pudding breakfast (which I didn't know as a valid breakfast item, but hey, it was nice) and then rugged up in all the clothes we had for the boat.

Lucky we did because it was the coldest I've been in a while. With nothing to stop the wind between Tadoussac and the Artic it was bloody freezing out there.

The whales (minkies apparently) did not disappoint. At first they are just sprays of water on the horizon but as the boats close in they seem to have no problem with the poeple around and will quite happily show themselves at the surface to breathe. It's not a "hey, take my picture" kind of happy, rather more like a striptease, with the whales not giving any clue as to where they were going to show up or what they were going to do. Lots of flashes of black followed by spouts of water and then slinking back under the water. I did learn that the blood rushes to the first bit of whale to surface so if the white belly is exposed to the air it can be quite pink, almost red. That was very cool.

We then had a nice cruise into the fjord. Either side has sheer stone cliffs with patches of plant life clinging to every vertical surface and the occasional waterfall trickling down in a narrow stream, slowly digging away. It isn't as staggering as the Fjords in Norway, I think the scale of it makes it far less dramatic but it has it's own charms. While the guide told us Fjord was a Scandinavian word meaning "narrow waterway formed by the movement of glaciers over thousands of years" I was somewhat skeptical. It's got to be too compact a word to say all that, doesn't it?

I would recommend Montreal (again), Quebec City and Tadoussac to any potential Canadians when they arrive, it was a weekend chock full of French accented goodness. It renewed my faith that Canada is made a far more interesting country by the loose coupling of the Provences, allowing each distinct group to retain their own quirks and culture (like speaking French for instance). I tend to see North America as a whole as a big, indivisible lump of US cluture and it constantly proves to me otherwise. I like being proved wrong in such ways.

Stark raving contrasts

Toronto :: Canada

Back to the Rockies - part the second.

Places: Banff & Edmonton.

Coolest thing I did: Stood atop Sulfur Mountain for possibly the best view of the whole trip.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The reason all those mountain lakes are that spooky light blue colour is the water is filled with minerals from the melted glaciers. I don't understand it, but that explaination sounds plausible enough.

It's funny how the memory can play tricks on you. I really recall the town of Banff being a rather small and cozy place but after Jasper and Lake Louise it seemed like pulling into a small metropolis. The caveat is that most small metropolises don't have such a perfect setting but still I felt a little let down (or perhaps forgetful). I guess it was that much colder in March to keep people indoors or out on the ski slopes so I didn't notice it being so large last time. I just don't recall their being THAT many ski shops and starbucks coffee houses.

As it's such a short drive from Lake Louise we pretty much had our last full day to do all things Banff. We chose to do the 2 hour walk right up the side of Sulfur Mountain and managed to overtake all comers and get to the top in less than 90 mins. As the only other option is one of the steepest Gondalas I've ever seen (both in price and gradient) it was a far more rewarding way to see the place. I'ts about 5km total trail with an elevation of 250m and the view from the top is like nothing else. There is an old weather station at the peak that has 360 degree views down the valley into Banff and over the border to the B.C. side of the mountains. If it wasn't for the Gondala disgourging thousands of loud, fat, smelly, baseball cap wearing, RV driving hicks at about the same time as we got there it would have been perfect. I love the Rockies but after 4 days I was kind of sick of most of the bus and RV people that seem to inhabit it. I think being in one of the range's most beautiful spots and having it chock full of humanity sums the whole thing up really. It's bitter sweet.

After the trip back down we went for a soak in the 40 degree stinky water of the hot springs that are powered by the sulfur that give the mountain it's name. The facilities that mean you have to pay are modelled in the old school 30s style, which is nice but again, all of humanity seems to have decided to find a gap on the side of the pool and take a seat. Still, after days of hiking it was all very relaxing and nice.

Instead of holing up in the Samesun we booked into for the night we decided to have a good old drink at the St James Gate in town, then authentic (you guessed it) Irish drinking establishment that must exist in every human settlement on Earth over 25 people. It was a goodun and the Steak and Guiness pie is highly recommended.

Our last day was spent trying to make it back to Edmonton in time to catch our plane. Three things about the day stand out.

Canmore is the first town just outside the national park and it shows. As development is in no way hampered as it is inside the park the town is growing and fast. It's worth a look, if only for the fact that everyone looks like they are out of South Park but I wouldn't stay unless it's ski season and staying too close to the slopes is out of your price range. The Three Sisters (which I thought us Aussies had copyrighted) which stand over the town are very impressive, again in a different way to every other mountain range we saw in the trip. The cool thing about the Rockies is the scenery keeps changing. You haven't seen all the variety your going to see even in the first couple of days.

The Alberta Bahn, the stretch of road between Calgary and Edmonton has to be the most boring peice of asphalt man ever drove an automobile on. It's dead straight, long and so flat you can still see the Rockies even hundreds of kilometres away if you look over your shoulder. You also get to see the joys that rapid urbanisation can bring. The treeless suburbs of Calgary are built in a uniform grey and the McMansions seem to go on forever. It's not something you can fully explain without seeing it but it does bring out a sense of despair for modern society. Only the pure pursuit of profit can produce something so truly uninspiring as this. Add to this our lunchtime stop in Red Deer, a single old street of vintage buildings surrounded by Walmarts, Safeways and Home Deports and you can see the way things are going out here. There is something to be said about cities that grow slowly and gain character over time, rather than a massive expansion that causes all this sameness and ultra effiecient design.

The last big gem wasn't Edmonton itself, as that's really a shell of a town now, but rather the West Edmonton Mall, one of the wonders of the retail world. It may or may not be the world's biggest shopping centre any more but it must be close if its not. Not only does it have 800+ stores but it has drawn most of the community activity out of the downtown and into it's muzac playing clutches. Inside the masses of space it's got a theme park, submarine ride, ice rink and even an indoor beach and water slide park. I know people don't want to go outside much when its 30 degrees below but there is something sinister about being cooped up inside where the main option is to shop. This much consumption quite frankly is scary but fascinating to watch at the same time.

The best thing about the mall is right in the middle is a bronze statue of three oil workers taping a well. None of what you see around you in that monument to retail would be possible without the rapid infusion of oil money into the communities of Alberta. It's like Dubai with cowboy hats. It will be interesting to see what happens when they eventually run out of the black stuff and whether that mall becomes a relic of a bygone era. I can just see people coming into the interior from the coasts of Canada in 50 years and seeing these ruins, kind of like the pyramids or Ankor Wat, poking out of the plains. I can see them scratching their heads wondering what on Earth those three blokes are doing.

All in all I think the Rockies was one of the best things I've done since arriving in Canada, both with and without snow. I think it's one of those places that could keep drawing me back as long as I am still able.

Compulsive Photography

Toronto :: Canada

Back to the Rockies - part the first.

Places: Edmonton, Jasper & Lake Louise.

Coolest thing I did: Went white water rafting for the first time ever.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Alberta has only been a place on the map since 100 years ago last weekend. I would never have known that had they not been celebrating when I arrived.

Let's be honest here, when you decide to drop everything and go to Canada you aren't going to see the cities. You get this idea in your head about snow-capped mountains reflected in crystal clear lakes and all lots and lots of pine trees. The cliches are endless. Since arriving in the country in March I've done a fair bit of going out into the touristed wilds to see all these things for myself but nothing compares to the Rocky Mountains national parks (both Jasper and Banff) in the task of providing the great Canadian outdoors. The only thing remotely like it I've seen is the Austrian or Slovenian Alps and even these seem like pale imitations when compared to North America's most famous mountains.

The plan was simple enough, give Budget a huge wad of our hard earned money and drive ourselves for 5 days in a round trip from Edmonton to see as much as possible in such a limited time. You could spend a lifetime out there and not see a fraction of what is on offer but the best bits that can be seen on a whirlwind trip are spectacular enough to leave you wanting more.

One thing that gets you is you start trying to take millions of pictures to get that perfect shot of mountains reflected in misty aqua lakes surrounded by pine forrests and it takes up a lot of time. You can't help yourself. Take a picture, walk 5 metres and the next potential masterpiece of a photo presents itself, usually the same thing as you last photographed, only at a slightly more impressive angle. It's crazy, but you feel like you will never be able to explain how beautiful the place is because every picture you've ever seen of the place (and trust me, you've seen lots, even if you don't realise it) doesn't do it justice in the flesh.

Glaciers were something new to me. I wanted to walk on a glacier in Norway on my grand European adventure but was unable to as I was a fortnight too early for the roads to be opened in Fjordland. However there are more than enough glaciers to go around in Jasper and walk on them we did. Halfway down the Icefields Parkway, which must rate as the most scenic road in the world, is the Columbia Icefields with no end of glaciers. The one most easily walked on can be reached from the car park in minutes and it's simple enough to trudge out onto it you could probably do it in ugh boots. To go out onto the glacier proper you need to get on a tour on this bus with monster truck wheels but that didn't appeal so much.

I like the sheer pragmatism of the Canadians. All the way up to the glacier are posted stories of people who didn't obey the warnings and signs, slipped into one of the cracks in the glacier and died of hypothermia before they could be rescued. No promises of liability, no one to sue, just if you do something stupid like cross the fence and get trapped in the ice we will try and save you but you will probably die. I prefer this approach to the American way of doing things ("These Penut M&Ms may contain nuts or traces of nuts").

Jasper is a nice place to stay, much smaller than Banff but with enough of a population to support actual commerce. This meant a choice of places to stay and eat, which was something Lake Louise suprised us with. The village of Lake Louise consists of a mall, a petrol station & a single resteruant. The rest is hotels. With hindsight we may have decided on two nights in Banff and one in Jasper. Still after entire days of walking up mountains and stuff like that being in bed by 9 is the usual rather than the exception.

After the experinces of deep fried everything in the back country of Ontario the food in Alberta is much more to my liking. Red meat abounds and I think I put away the best steak I've had in a long time. Add to that they get the real Kokanee beer right from B.C. made with proper glacier water (rather than the stuff you can get sometimes in Ontario which is made with Lake Ontario water...) and I was satsified with the fuel I was getting for all this hiking.

We took a day to go white water rafting on the Kicking Horse River in B.C. It's not something I've ever done before but I enjoyed it a lot. Though the water runs directly off the glaciers and is a balmy 4 degrees they do dress you up in wetsuits and jackets and stuff and work you hard enough paddling to make it so you don't mind so much. Though the low level of the river (apparently spring is far rougher, as the snows start to melt) meant we were going down some beginner level rapids I found the skills of our guide somewhat awe inspiring. With just an authoritive voice and a keen eye for quick changes in conditions he managed to get 6 complete newbies to guide a rubber raft down though tight circles of rocks and waterfalls without error or even a loss of temper or patience. I find it almost too rare to see people so good at what they do anymore, it's a sight to behold.

Of all the hyped tourist sights I though Chateau Lake Louise lived up to it's reputation. You're dumbstruck as you clear the trees to see this hotel perched on the edge of one of the most perfectly cliche ridden Canadian scene anywhere. If a Mountie rode up on a Grizzly bear under Aurora Borrealis then maybe, just maybe it would be more Canadian. The place is almost too good to be true.

The wildlife was a bit fleeting for us on this trip. We did see glimpses of deer and the squirrels and chipmunks were like pigeons in Trafalgar Square the bigger prizes remained more elusive. The fact that a woman was mauled by a bear in Banff National Park only a week before we left meant that this probably wasn't a bad thing.

More on our return to Banff and the trip back to Edmonton to follow.

Details

Toronto :: Canada

Appreciating the little things.

Places: Toronto.

Coolest thing I did: Managed to not get the chop from my contract when CIBC lost 2 and a bit billion dollars to settle with the Enron shareholders.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: There is a bit of the Berlin Wall under the middle arch of the Freedom Arches in Nathan Phillips Square..

Over the last string of Sundays I've had to do a couple of hours of work that I can't otherwise do during the week and it's had the happy side effect of letting me wander around the downtown of Toronto without the millions of suits that inhabit it during the week trying to crush me off the foot path and into oncoming traffic. When I first got here I didn't like the look of all the ultra modern glass phalluses that house the banks here but I've since decided some of them aren't too bad. I like the fact that nex to each one of them there is a neo-classical or gothic structure that has been left alone or incorperated into the new building, giving that cool blend of the old and new. I also have noticed a whole lot of the banks have either communist style heroic workers or classical gods and godesses carved into their fascades. What on Earth is that all about? Even in the 30s, when you could get away with saying the Nazis weren't such bad blokes in polite business circles in North America I'm wondering if people were still a bit wiered out by having Zeus staring down at them all day.

I'm also glad to see the old main railway station, Union Station could have been transplanted from Budapest or Prague, as smaller but no less fancy Grand Central. Also across the road is the Fairmont Hotel in all it's gothic glory and old world charm. While there's probably something wrong with thinking it's cool that the doormen still wear uniforms and white gloves I think there aren't enough of those kinds of places left (even if I won't pay what they are asking to experience it myself). I wonder where all these kinds of places went in Sydney, a contemporary city to Toronto. Why is Central station such a dump, don't tourists catch trains in Australia anymore?

When I first arrived here the Freedom Arches out the front of the town hall (in Nathan Phillips Square) were an ice rink and they have since been changed into a fountain. Though it's really non-obvious I did read quite recently a chuck of the Berlin wall is interned under the middle arch. I've been really meaning to see if I can see it before it all ices over again. I've also been meaning to find out a) why there is a great big statue of Winston Churchill in the square and b) why they chose to portray the great man trying desperately to hold his pants up. No one seems to know.

Sampling the obvious delights of College Streets Italian section, which happens to be walking distance from home, was an obvious thing to do during the summer nights but I've recently been introduced to it's real gem hidden in the back streets. Housed in what looks like a run down milk bar is California Sandwiches. It does what it says on the tin. Big fat sandwiches, no optional items, no table service for about $6. The Veal sandwich with hot sauce is as good as any single cheap meal I've had here. I've since had pale imitations but California is in a class of it's own. Highly recommended. Best meal I've had since we discovered Burrito Boys.

I've decided that the nightclubs in Toronto are very, very average. Our latest foray into one of the myserious-sounding-single-word-named venues was typical of the experience. Line up outside for ages with lots of unhappy people. Get inside and give anywhere between $10-$15 of your hard earned cash to an equally unhappy door bitch. Go inside and pay a stupid amount of money for bottled beer in a plastic cup. Listen to rubbish hip-hop and/or RnB. Leave and consume either a Burrito or hotdog (aka street meat).

While I had a good time at our last foray to one of these places, that was more due to the fact I was muy burracho before we arrived and there were so many cage dancers they even had to put one into the lobby to make them all fit. The music was crap by I chose not to care this time. It's funny to watch all these under age kids drive in from Markham and Streetsville to frown at each other and get into fights on the street. I guess its the same everywhere else in the western world, only usually with better music and the possible option decent beer being available.

To end on a high note I have to complement the city of Toronto on having possibly the best book shops anywhere I've been. After years of trying to find something worth reading down King Street or Shafstbury Avenue it seems impossible to do any wrong here. I don't usually bother with Chapters or Borders anymore as I can always find something worth reading in the musty stacks down Bloor, King or College Streets. I wonder if that's got something to do with all the time that gets spent indoors here? Winter must *really* suck, eh?.

Sorry.

Playing tour guide

Toronto :: Canada

It's only been a few months but already there are visitors to show a good time.

Places: Toronto, Niagara & Niagara-on-Lake.

Coolest thing I did: The Maid of the Mist, despite all it's tourist cache, was rather cool.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: The wineries here are so young that they make the Adeliade Hills look like Bordeaux for wine making vintage.

After a lull of normal life the visit of some of our friends from various parts of the Antipoean ex-pat world has given the tourism a lease on life once again. Lisa flew in from London on the red eye for Thursday morning, Kate arrived later the same night from Adelaide (which I'm told involves about 4 planes) and Paul arrived from Vancouver on Friday morning. While I was busy working the girls (and later Paul) managed to drink their way around town. Apparently the Steam Whistle Brewery just over the road from the CN Tower is worth a look but I'm just going to be left wondering, as by the time I got home from work on Friday afternoon the lot of them were stewed and happy.

So we decided to show them some of the best we'd learned about nightlife in Toronto in our short stay here. This was a good idea to start with but the big day of drinking mixed with all the duty free and our new found knowledge of how to make some tasty cocktails out of mostly Vodka, we only managed two bars. Eddies Pool Hall on College Street is a nice place to start a night out, as it is indeed a pool hall. It's got enough trendy decor and high enough drink prices to let you forget that it is, but as the girls say, it's "funky" which tends to mean if you're a bloke "Pricey but you don't mind too much". I made the fatal mistake of starting on the Rusty Nails (which are a concoction of scotch and dramuie and ice) and the night started to spin rapidly out of control. We then took the group round the corner to the converted car garage which is The Octopus bar and it all gets very hazy. I know I took Kates camera and reverted to my old trick of taking my picture with a lot of random strangers becasue the pictures left evidence. Apparently the drinks went into a mix of Heineken and Rusty Nails and that was about it. I went from the life of the party to comatose in about 30 mins but much fun was had by all.

The next morning was supposed to be a trip out to the Islands for bike riding but it turned out to be mid-afternoon. Yvette was nowhere near the top of her game due to the previous evenings festivities so she spent much of the afternoon asleep under a tree. The rest of us got the crappiest bikes left in the hire place and I regaled all with my witty Napolean Dynamite quotes ("go over any sweet jumps on it") despite the fact that the movie left me confused more than anything else. It was a nice day and the fresh air did me the world of good. If anyone else was suffering they managed to hide it pretty well and after a quick feed of chicken wings (a hangover's best friend, trust me) we were back on the beers in the lazy afternoon sun. The resteraunt where we ate also looks over the paddle swan boats from the Island's amusement park, which is lots of entertainment because the voices keep coming over the loudspeaker saying "number 20, your ride is over. Seriously, don't make me wade out there and get you. Guess you had to be there.

Sunday was a bit too much shopping in Kensington Markets intersped with some more drinking of beer. It's a trendy part of town and the streets are blocked off on the weekends, meaning people have table tennis and giant polo and stuff like that out in the street. There was also a band which I thought were pretty good, and I watched them for quite some time while the girls wandered in and out of the shops to get the shop assistants all excited with their trying things on and not buying them. Some beers in Sneaky Dees, some more in the Supermarket and some in between in some other place we found by accident and that was pretty much it for the day.

Sunday meant a hire car and the 5 of us going off to do the tourist thing in Niagara. The falls were just as spectacular (but not so special without the snow and ice) this time around, but I loved the Maid of the Mist, which didn't run last time I was there. It's a boat that gets right up close and personal to the falls, so close that it's hard to hold your eyes open in the spray. It's like looking directly into a storm, with all that power and energy so close you can almost touch it. Despite this apparent danger, you feel like you are on an amusement park ride, with it's long line up, being crammed onto the boat with as many people that will fit and the flash bulbs going off it's almost a bit too safe. Still, the plastic ponchos they give you to keep dry have more of a psychological impact than anything else. You still end up sopping wet and smiling.

For lunch and the way home we saw the posher side of Niagara, Niagara-on-lake. When contrasted to the garish sideshow that is Niagara Falls, the town is quaint enough, even if it's obvious that some business saavy has been mixed in with the rustic charm to make sure those cash registers keep ringing. With a bit more time it would be worth exploring, but all you would probably do is end up with lots of little trinkets and nick-nacks and teapots and stuff like that. Instead we decided to go and track down the free wine tasings of the surrounding valley. I abstained, having to drive our hire car, and wasn't that dissapointed after my last foray into Ontario wine. However, some wine was drunk, some more was purchased and all were happy. One of the places even let the girls taste ice wine which I didn't think they did. I like the idea of ice wine (picked at the right time, the right temperature to make the sweet desert wine taste) but I don't think I could bring myself to give anyone $60 for one of those tiny bottles, it just feels wrong.

All told, I think it's a lot like having to teach someone anything. As soon as you are forced to explain something out loud you really have to think about what you are saying and that's probably the first time you really get understand something properly. I got a better understanding of all the things I've learned about this town and am starting to think less of it as a faceless North American city and more to appreciate it's little touches of character and culture. It's not as pretty as Vancouver or as cultured as Montreal, but it is home.

Cottage country

Toronto :: Canada

A long weekend with the rest of the Toronto escapees.

Places: South Baymouth, Tobermoray & the 26.

Coolest thing I did: Ate something called a stretched pork sandwich. Possibly the best single thing I've ingested in North America.

Coolest thing I didn´t know: Live 8 was far far far less interesting in Canada than it was in London. Bryan Adams. Woo hoo.

With the recent danger of life becoming something like normal the Canada Day long weekend seemed like a really good time to get out of town for a few days and see some more of this country. With the collapse of one of the cheap airlines and record oil prices I've had to cut down on trips that involve flying in aeroplanes. Luckily it is cheap and easy to hire a car here and get out of town somewhere nearby. What I've learned from my yuppie banker workmates is lots of people own cottages around the shores of Georgian Bay, an extension of Lake Huron. Cottages can only mean one thing, scenery (or lots of guilable bankers with cottages facing concrete walls).

It seemes the weekend was a good one to go up to this part of the world. Every man and his dog heads for Ottawa for a massive display of patriotism and waving of maple leafs so the traffic up wasn't as bad as I'd first thought it would be. While seeing the Canuks go nuts on their national day in their capital would have been cool, I couldn't get the picture out of my head of what a similar celebration would have been like on Australia Day in Canberra. Yawn.

So we saddled up our Pontiac Sunfire (who the hell names cars in this country? yanks?) and headed for the northern shore of Georgian Bay. The plan was to head around to Manitoulin Island, which was supposed to be a picturesque bit of farm country with a few First Nations reservations (what they call them Indians here in PC land) on it. After a very, very long drive we arrived on a rather pretty but also rather dull island. We took a detour to see the local beauty spot, Bridal Veil Falls, which turned out to be so eroded they have been paved over with concrete so look more like a storm water outfall rather than a water fall. We spent the overnight in a town called South Baymouth which has a pretty little light house and bugger all else. When the local pizza shop cut us off from the beers at 9pm there was little else to do in the town of 500 but go to bed. Bit of a disappointment.

One ferry ride later the next morning and we found ourselves on the Bruce Penisula and a hopping little seaside town called Tobermoray. This was more like it. There's a dock that is a gateway to the nearby islands that wouldn't look out of place anywhere on the Med. Tobermoray also has the distinction of being Canadas primo diving site, but the idea of a surface temperature of around 5 degrees turned me off a little.

The surroundings almost seem out of place in Canada. The lake is so large you tend to forget you are looking at fresh water and the forrest lined beaches are postcard perfect. It's natural beauty is the kind of thing you expect when you come to Canada, only there aren't any mountains or polar bears.

We took a boat out to Flowerpot Island. Flower pots are what they call pillars of rock that have become detached from the rest of the island at some point due to some geological process that was written on a plaque I didn't really read. Lets just say they are pretty cool. It's the only island in easy striking distance of the port that has hiking trails and it's a easy 90 mins to circuit around the whole island. Spending the rest of the time waiting for our ride back while dangling bare feet in the crisp clean water in the setting sun was relaxation itself. To boot we managed to get a ride back on the jet powered Zodiac instead of the normal boat, which goes very fast and sits half out of the water. Good fun all round.

On the way home on the last day it was a lesiurely drive along highway 26 which has the distinction of housing peoples summer and winter cottages at the same time. On one side is the Bay and on the other side you can see the ski runs cut into the tree line of Southern Ontarios premier ski resorts. While the quality of skiing in Ontario can't be compared with the Rockies or Lautentians it's only a couple of hours drive from downtown Toronto so makes for an easy weekend away in winter. With this all year round use you can imagine that the land is in high demand. To make up for it the cottages that people build would be called small mansions by anyone else. Some rise 3 + stories out of the tree line and there aren't that many places you can actually get down to the lake. The exception is Wasaga beach, which we didn't have time to see but I'm promised is the Costa de Sol of the Ontario lakes. Perhaps next time.

With the abuntant natural pleasantness nearby it's little wonder Toronto is half empty at the moment. If I had the option of a month off I'd be up out there too.