Boy are my arms tired.
There's a whole lot of nothing to see out of the airplane window, for a very long time as you fly to Ottawa from Chicago.
as we got close, and started to descend, I really started to get a sense that I was in Canada.
Every creek, pond, river had squares of bare ice, where the snow had been cleared.
You'd think Hockey was a big deal here, or something.
And more so than the whole kilometer i/o miles thing on all the signs; and the gas prices listed per litre; it was the junior national Curling tournament on the TV at dinner that really hammered "You're in Canada" home to me.
Love nationally televised sporting events where there's, like... 150 people actually watching it at the sports facility.
Woe is the Canadian sports network that didn't get the NHL broadcasting rights...
Then it was my cable tv at the hotel. 40 channels, several in french, over half of the 40 are news, sports or PBS-like. A well informed, serious minded people, apparently. Sports channels in Feb. in Canada show things like re-runs of old CFL playoff games; worlds strongest men competitions, Curling and... pro wrestling. Woe is the canadian sports network that didn't get the NHL broadcasting rights...
TSN, by the way. It's the real life equivalent of ESPN 8, "The OCHO!!!"
And given the apparent country-wide lack of interest in giving a creative name to anything, I bet TSN stands for...The Sports Network. I bet they paid a marketing firm a ton of cash to come up with that name...
Lack of creative names... What am I talking about?
There's a historical old church, dating from 1840 along the drive home. It's light blue, and is the 2nd church built there, replacing the one from 1790 that burnt down.
What's the name of this quaint old church, surrounded by 200 year old grave markers?
The Blue Church.
And around the corner from my hotel, is a beer store. Guess what it's called!
The Beer Store.
Oddly enough, the huge processing plant with all the smoke and stuff billowing out of it, is not called "The Shithole" or "The blight on the landscape" or "Icky". It actually has a corporate sounding name out front...
I have been driving back to my hotel along the St. Lawrence all week. Since I'm not in a hurry, have no place I have to be after work, no plans, no ideas... might as well take the scenic route.
And it IS scenic. A handful of picturesque (but not financially well off) old towns right on the water. Glimpses of 1000 islands around every curve. And a ton of historical markers, due to the fact that the area saw a lot of battles during Canada's fight to end English rule in the 19th century.
And French fry stands.
At least three of 'em between Cardinal and Brockville. All of them closed until spring. Each of them no bigger than a farmer's road side fruit stand.
They take their fries pretty seriously, hereabouts. A culinary specialty is Poutine.
That would be fries with fresh cheese curds and gravy.
I tried 'em last time I was in the area, and I'm still full, so opted out this go 'round.
As you drive along the water, you come upon signs, welcoming you to Johnstown, or Prescott, or Florence township.
The usual artfully rendered wooden signs, with the name of the town, and a welcoming message underneath.
Like Johnstown's. "We're Glad You're Here!" might be your guess for welcoming message.
OR
"Try our fries!"
Nope.
Welcome to Johnstown.
"Smoke Alarms save lives!"
a few Kilometers further east, you're welcomed to Historical Florence Township.
"Home of the AA Jr. Curling Champions 1987"?
nope.
"You're already home"?
Nuh uh.
Welcome to Historical Florence Township
"No Smoke Alarm? NO chance!!!!!"
Unless you're driving the other direction, then the sign says "Have you checked your smoke alarm's batteries?"
And a bit later, you enter Brockville.
"Welcome to Brockville"
" Resort Liv..uh.. Do you smell smoke?"
Nah, I made that last one up.
It's been fun running out to lunch with my coworker, in Cardinal.
Town's small. REALLY small.
And it's been a company town for a century at least. At one point, 100% of the residents worked at the plant. She's lived here her entire life.
On the way to lunch today, she told me to watch out for the guy who was crossing the street, a block and a half in front of me.
"That's Earl. Earl takes awhile to cross a street."
And he did.
And everyone in town can spot him from over a block away, and knows what to expect.
And to me, that's kinda awesome.
You can keep your smoke alarm propaganda; your gut buster gravy fries; your lack of creativity in your naming of landmarks and retail outlets; and your lack of programming on your sports networks.
But I'll happily take the small town, the evening commute, and the idea of an Earl.
