tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47291619733859784022024-03-12T17:31:05.341-07:00Once, Twice, Three Times A CanadianDavid Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-34603706388471853742010-06-13T07:54:00.000-07:002010-06-13T11:30:11.893-07:00Vancouver to Halifax: The Final DayI'm not sure why, but since I've started flying around the world, I can make it to my destination without much trouble, but on the way back I always have a terrible time making it home without some series of issues making the trip difficult, no matter how well I try to prepare in advance.<div><br /></div><div>The night before I left, this time, I had set my alarm and packed my bag so that I would be able to easily walk to the Skytrain station and get to the airport on time. I don't typically pack my things the night before a flight, but it was a good thing I did, because it turned out that once again I had forgot to turn on the actual alarm, and so I woke up an hour later than planned.</div><div><br /></div><div>I quickly showered and grabbed my bags. I hadn't wanted to call a cab, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and so I was forced to part with $30 to make my flight. It was all for naught though, as my flight was delayed by half an hour, meaning I would likely have been able to reach the airport by Skytrain anyway. At least I was able to buy some breakfast.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had booked this flight three months in advance, which turned out to be a fortuitous move since the Boeing 767 booked for the flight was sold out and filled to capacity. The plane - the widest I've ever seen - had three seats even on the side aisles, so I still had to sit in the middle of two people.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fortunately though, my neighbours were quite interesting. The man on my left worked with Universities and Colleges around the country to help develop accounting textbooks for CASB. The man on my right was a Sea King helicopter pilot for Canada's Navy, who told me that every Sea King helicopter flies with a crew of 17 (6 to operate the helicopter, and 11 mechanics to fix it when it breaks down).</div><div><br /></div><div>When I arrived in Toronto's Pearson Airport, I thought I had a two hour break before my next flight. I sat down to have some supper and read some of my book, but I had misread the time of my next flight on my ticket on the plane, and by the time I noticed I was already late. </div><div><br /></div><div>To compound matters, Pearson Airport is one of the worst organized airports in Canada, and I could not find an arrivals/departure board until I had accidentally walked out of the main terminal. When I realised that my flight was actually in fifteen minutes I tried to rush to gate 148, but found that in order to go back in through the sliding doors I had just left, I would have to go through security again.</div><div><br /></div><div>I ran around frantically trying to find gate 148, and was directed in the "right" direction by an airport agent. I ran to the end of the hallway, but couldn't find any number higher than 145. At this point I found the following sign (below), and resigned myself to rescheduling my flight.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCbet3urTkGv4FpdIR8Epg6IBvqscdWVgCMNikXkNqn4CLEjnJ-1yRdamivRuj6rqMeukwVSUIVGnlqAvpmDpUpfOnC9makW2vyF6nDtYYK8BOeGYHgz4bhcDhocHgxxkLha47hISFFx8/s1600/No+Gate+148"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCbet3urTkGv4FpdIR8Epg6IBvqscdWVgCMNikXkNqn4CLEjnJ-1yRdamivRuj6rqMeukwVSUIVGnlqAvpmDpUpfOnC9makW2vyF6nDtYYK8BOeGYHgz4bhcDhocHgxxkLha47hISFFx8/s320/No+Gate+148" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482293361534450914" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>At this point I really needed to call my "ride" in Halifax, because he would be waiting at the airport without knowing what had happened to me. I tried 6 different Bell-Aliant pay phones, but none of them would let me connect to Halifax (they'd take my credit card though). I then tried a Bell High Speed Internet station, but that was so slow it cost me $4.05 and was only able to load three pages in ten minutes. The Bell Internet kiosk was so slow it could not even let me reach the e-mail composition page, and so after all of that I remained thwarted in my attempt to reach my friend by Bell Canada's simply awful service. </div><div><br /></div><div>Considering I had heard a story from someone in Ottawa, who had his mobile phone broken by a sms message sent to him <i>from Bell</i>, who would later refuse to fix his phone, and that I would later come across a Bell payphone in Halifax that would not accept any coins of any size or denomination, I am forced to conclude that Bell Canada is the worst phone/Internet provider in the world. But I digress...</div><div><br /></div><div>Somewhere over New Brunswick, on my new flight, I was approached by my plane's operations manager who told me that there had been a problem, and that someone in luggage at Pearson Airport thought that I was on my original flight, and so my bag had been placed on that plane. When it was realized that I was not on the plane, my bag was taken off, but had not made it on my new flight. This meant that my bag was actually four hours behind me, somewhere back in Toronto.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I reached the Halifax airport, Air Canada gave me a blue canvas bag with a new toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, clean shirt, and many other toiletry items to make up for my luggage mix-up. The only bright point in all of this was Air Canada's continued above-average customer service. Remember, Air Canada good, Bell-Aliant/Pearson Airport baaaaad.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually, after another cab ride, this one $60, I made it to my hostel and was finally able to rest... for one night at least. </div><div><br /></div><div>While this marks the end 0f my incredible cross-Canada adventure, it is also the beginning of my search for a job, and an apartment. When I satisfy both requirements for Halifax living, I will embark on my next project: a two to three year exploration of Nova Scotia, in which I attempt to visit every point of interest possible. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you for joining me on this most excellent adventure, and please visit me often at my new blog, <a href="http://epterranova.blogspot.com/">Ea-pea Dave's Terra Nova</a>, whenever you'd like to feel that you too are in New Scotland.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-52110916153927522972010-06-07T18:18:00.000-07:002010-06-10T18:05:03.210-07:00Vancouver Day 4When I woke up today (my last in Vancouver), I was elated to see that the sky was blue and the sun was shining. It turns out though, that the sky was just teasing me, for after I came back from my shower the grey clouds had returned.<br /><div><br /></div><div>After another excellent free breakfast in the kitchen (kudos to whoever has to prepare all the fruit, bread, bagels, oatmeal, milk, and juice), I set off to see Vancouver's famous four-season outdoor playground, Grouse Mountain.</div><div><br /></div><div>First hiked back in 1894, Grouse Mountain got its name from the plentiful Blue Grouse the intrepid hikers would hunt on their 3 day journey to the summit. Back in those days there was no bridge across the Burrard Inlet, or road up to the base of the mountain, so it was quite a trek.</div><div><br /></div><div>But this is 2010, and there is a bridge across the Burrard Inlet, and there is a road to the base of the mountain. There is even a gondola to the resort at the top, so I was able to make the journey in less than an hour.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had originally planned to walk up to the top on "Mother Nature's Stairmaster," the Grouse Grind, but alas it was closed for renovations during my visit, and so I was forced to take an eight minute ride up to the summit in the 45 person Skyride cable car.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHjWT4ASFA2qhHnU_pDb49edzVNUVKpQ_i3XCMwVqFbnkgaNdivUBRiwjNNCjt62io3rPHYoxGHGlQMgjSHpglSKtpVDCKc4wRIRmcXV4wDDtwE7WBEo8AGFY1zj02D6IvnFnJT4Hv3gE/s1600/Image00005.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHjWT4ASFA2qhHnU_pDb49edzVNUVKpQ_i3XCMwVqFbnkgaNdivUBRiwjNNCjt62io3rPHYoxGHGlQMgjSHpglSKtpVDCKc4wRIRmcXV4wDDtwE7WBEo8AGFY1zj02D6IvnFnJT4Hv3gE/s320/Image00005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480206355511979778" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Taking the Skytrain allows for absolutely stunning views of the valley below.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Once at the top of the mountain, there are seemingly endless activities to experience. I knew where I wanted to go first though, and made a dash to the Orphaned Grizzly Refuge.</div><div><br /></div><div>When a grizzly cub is orphaned, rangers will typically try to shoot it to save it from being mauled to death by an adult male grizzly. However, when Grinder and Coola's mothers were hit by vehicles in 2001, they became part of an experiment to create the first ever Endangered Grizzly Refuge.</div><div><br /></div><div>The original plan was to incage the two cubs inside a 5-acre electric fence so that they could be monitored and secretly slipped food so they would think they had foraged it themselves. However, because of a delay in gaining permission to build the refuge, Grinder and Coola had been handled too frequently by humans and would consequently never be allowed to return to the wild (they would approach humans looking for food).</div><div><br /></div><div>Subsequently, Grinder and Coola became part of the show at Grouse Mountain, and help attract more than one million visitors each year.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ITNRZJ611vnwdlKy7mcWFWaX6qIMQ8q51mBe6_Z2aYEbke8QfhsmQKd6pkcISuVBAznwo6j_eMr-lkD6vdJ7MHsz69Tds9puuf_dpCdYKHPgZL-fBbUeK_3RRnVbVQgSRAJGLqY-n2U/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ITNRZJ611vnwdlKy7mcWFWaX6qIMQ8q51mBe6_Z2aYEbke8QfhsmQKd6pkcISuVBAznwo6j_eMr-lkD6vdJ7MHsz69Tds9puuf_dpCdYKHPgZL-fBbUeK_3RRnVbVQgSRAJGLqY-n2U/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480208631208040098" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirv6-uUCdUO1kW6CWgK6GkWiOtoe9ZZmqSNIzJAtSvwyvolp3XvQXfOf3HXOWrxmchCVj4L8d3HgSqlfvDCwW_TuUEfHCtV2OqOkALIsMPtivVC7li8p68gyyCdNTl2rXgFybTXoC4LLk/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirv6-uUCdUO1kW6CWgK6GkWiOtoe9ZZmqSNIzJAtSvwyvolp3XvQXfOf3HXOWrxmchCVj4L8d3HgSqlfvDCwW_TuUEfHCtV2OqOkALIsMPtivVC7li8p68gyyCdNTl2rXgFybTXoC4LLk/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480208624696387074" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSv1cnHcJPRnsRSKZ7xRaFg3uiHvjbEt55CLV53OZ3zX34sU9EkhUdEvWOZOrhSW_h7n_ZEyk9rRgd-wxyfrRShE7oe0xfQloHE1FVsLJVSYdAwlh7uxjRvMLiF_atP6FkA1UTOsHINB0/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSv1cnHcJPRnsRSKZ7xRaFg3uiHvjbEt55CLV53OZ3zX34sU9EkhUdEvWOZOrhSW_h7n_ZEyk9rRgd-wxyfrRShE7oe0xfQloHE1FVsLJVSYdAwlh7uxjRvMLiF_atP6FkA1UTOsHINB0/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480208620898701906" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf0q1Dsv5opNNWebb2LBuTGIxeCwA_7aUrUqdPtMg86xOv5R_exXxqmHDrwlQBNHQnrb87Yb-rXCz0sL0JCAeP-cHjIF4tfv2uiWnOtH4CcgArCQNFRvJNx04gHisNdTO1FrG9t6gYJ30/s1600/Image00010.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf0q1Dsv5opNNWebb2LBuTGIxeCwA_7aUrUqdPtMg86xOv5R_exXxqmHDrwlQBNHQnrb87Yb-rXCz0sL0JCAeP-cHjIF4tfv2uiWnOtH4CcgArCQNFRvJNx04gHisNdTO1FrG9t6gYJ30/s320/Image00010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480208651848973090" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn91Qwvd8msAraK2pQPYbVr-oCey7CwJx-9hdZi0CmFVrdOD9Et_EFa0N0avMH0SD0piK9ns7etgYjetxprqwX7mnCWxw-8F6suCaAtjk1uJW_6OTPJvU5ZYOH33DxhudQdG2aV0eAHIk/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn91Qwvd8msAraK2pQPYbVr-oCey7CwJx-9hdZi0CmFVrdOD9Et_EFa0N0avMH0SD0piK9ns7etgYjetxprqwX7mnCWxw-8F6suCaAtjk1uJW_6OTPJvU5ZYOH33DxhudQdG2aV0eAHIk/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480208911455819682" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(I call this photo, "Bear In Thoughtful Repose By Lake On Mountain Top".)</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOxUFzQ5zta4PD2y59Tkt2fW3qHZU6LWG_f__ars0jBKAVrRDFua7UyAotV4sXIGLhyJjT5cbEaacURcRYNe-z5OcAILM6XXJ_B_SX7-ShpeKzmf-o8MVPoRiUrsGKXnQxRTABNR2u7A/s1600/Image00017.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOxUFzQ5zta4PD2y59Tkt2fW3qHZU6LWG_f__ars0jBKAVrRDFua7UyAotV4sXIGLhyJjT5cbEaacURcRYNe-z5OcAILM6XXJ_B_SX7-ShpeKzmf-o8MVPoRiUrsGKXnQxRTABNR2u7A/s320/Image00017.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480209593993612210" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(I hate this fence. It serves no practical purpose whatsoever, since the Grizzly Bears could easily tear it apart. The fence you see obstructing the view only exists to make scared tourists feel more comfortable. The bears are actually contained by only three thin, electrically charged wires on the other side of the fence.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Another big draw at Grouse Mountain is the Endangered Birds Show. Unlike Grinder and Coola, who were close to starvation when they were found, the birds in this show are healthy birds, and were bread for educational purposes to raise awareness for endangered birds in general.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbrVG_SzI2jHyKy-PWAan8vMATU7gMoui5ocT_Gt02a3L613EbgGIxAJA_CozobLkfIrF-SF_TIaZ9oBCkqu-hwRioL5TMDnIMFEJyOXR13r5PDvQAAmI1KcLFfSbGt2Qr88DPJ4zVGc/s1600/Image00018.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbrVG_SzI2jHyKy-PWAan8vMATU7gMoui5ocT_Gt02a3L613EbgGIxAJA_CozobLkfIrF-SF_TIaZ9oBCkqu-hwRioL5TMDnIMFEJyOXR13r5PDvQAAmI1KcLFfSbGt2Qr88DPJ4zVGc/s320/Image00018.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480209599621361698" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefmrY7nHtFhTPn7HqMp75zc1Dq3bDxFi12cyNvkXNFryYFlT7dNWc8M4HmRH6-8nsjMuFE7meuASoN9bSFseYfo9ICePrA_PzuFXOwzxh7av5i42l5Z4IBH33a5RXNhWuBmZ_ZSmDbDk/s1600/Image00019.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefmrY7nHtFhTPn7HqMp75zc1Dq3bDxFi12cyNvkXNFryYFlT7dNWc8M4HmRH6-8nsjMuFE7meuASoN9bSFseYfo9ICePrA_PzuFXOwzxh7av5i42l5Z4IBH33a5RXNhWuBmZ_ZSmDbDk/s320/Image00019.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480209604448556930" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(A red hawk. Any time you hear an eagle call in a movie, it's more likely to be a clip of this bird calling instead.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi45RW654tVgySaPX8VR5T8Df5g-CROn5OifYTndJDzz7cUkojnt6v_sSxQkdLHsFtB4FYCgJt8pjmQkR7xoSMExnqjCvo5ycWJwji3hiU-Zv4PZxVcw_LjgKE0Se7CwOUZNePQkOIADQQ/s1600/Image00020.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi45RW654tVgySaPX8VR5T8Df5g-CROn5OifYTndJDzz7cUkojnt6v_sSxQkdLHsFtB4FYCgJt8pjmQkR7xoSMExnqjCvo5ycWJwji3hiU-Zv4PZxVcw_LjgKE0Se7CwOUZNePQkOIADQQ/s320/Image00020.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480209606583290226" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The Bald Eagle, AKA, the bird everyone came to see.)</div><div><br /></div><div>My favourite show of the day had to be the "World Famous Lumberjack Show" - part athletic contest, part comedy show, and cast with World Champion Canadian Lumberjacks. I had so much fun watching the antics of "Johnnie" and "Willie", that I actually skipped taking a ride to the top of the wind power generator to watch the show twice.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0VMCSDi6ANKlO2b2_6gG0diS2_F8hV0NVLdB1lbwX3gZwVZmyiJnwJInrObzK182kgHHwxVkYkihQrSkF5_GE29utQU0CWZvqEJ3dq7EOHCS2v7ygBostC4q7jsHX4vQH20q2EkEGsM/s1600/Image00015.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr0VMCSDi6ANKlO2b2_6gG0diS2_F8hV0NVLdB1lbwX3gZwVZmyiJnwJInrObzK182kgHHwxVkYkihQrSkF5_GE29utQU0CWZvqEJ3dq7EOHCS2v7ygBostC4q7jsHX4vQH20q2EkEGsM/s320/Image00015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480208935972946418" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Willie tosses an axe at the target.)</div></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkOVnHntnK2tQnHaCCrjDaIPfkig3gp4dB1-wqC2GRfMnUZ7Ok3wWLUvHVDyU_pCEX1wfFflkYeyUjzsh8BUVeDaMa-f4yFLCxpPO8dSrf-j4PdNdrUBC4doPdUVkCN1n-lv4QaYiScw/s1600/Image00014.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkOVnHntnK2tQnHaCCrjDaIPfkig3gp4dB1-wqC2GRfMnUZ7Ok3wWLUvHVDyU_pCEX1wfFflkYeyUjzsh8BUVeDaMa-f4yFLCxpPO8dSrf-j4PdNdrUBC4doPdUVkCN1n-lv4QaYiScw/s320/Image00014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480208928465685970" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Johnnie prepares for his throw.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7To0yCCdJh0hqBNDgcFMcfgtOTZ0OlXSwItKDAIe-oyEz6Ezh58mvKx8r6pQdyaqw2zg3QC94aXcsrZM7NRAEnnIVfNEWZwDZdj2BZauhr9dHTMDaqXqhd-hIdokL6VaoIiW37-jlNCE/s1600/Image00013.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7To0yCCdJh0hqBNDgcFMcfgtOTZ0OlXSwItKDAIe-oyEz6Ezh58mvKx8r6pQdyaqw2zg3QC94aXcsrZM7NRAEnnIVfNEWZwDZdj2BZauhr9dHTMDaqXqhd-hIdokL6VaoIiW37-jlNCE/s320/Image00013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480208920781386962" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Willie makes mischief; Johnnie threatens to chop Willie with an axe.)</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxvgSIPi38LQ31UuiI1D1NM4zyKcTrbV0xtn7A7DGRvltNlAZ5YQB_R-3Ko8TJQLgbgGkeEkY_enpQntU8iPg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>(Johnnie hurts his back.)</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyGFiyNJqeF2Q_sdARQJXKf1NW64f9hJCHBHxbx6fisMQAH9rbqDb8t_zXbMST_RnvC97zpEGPIhJ0OMAEBFA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>(Johnnie and Willie have a sawing contest.)</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyblIllDZQ9Au2G12Stdmq-5J48xC74DYcbcoa4jqHDYqHcEx3o3hCf_SXrGb8B7t7K__tA69FCrY-LhlrdUQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>(Johnnie "cheats".)</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyg_FjjDBUuSBxChS74poH9dYkrZCVXkzOHVisfmxRwXI-omcEqMygvHrXgNRrm2hUi0u8umZ52VzDyJ1B6zw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>(Johnnie and Willie risk hypothermia.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPLl6HKHeWJol_zR1x6wqtb5viC0-KrAPWdDAUpmb0MbnL3DyY4vDlNfA7hAyuNjrAdext9Hw17ALvF0PeE2sWKy4gJOwImtRzlpRcp9L4dUBnFB8gEtqfxZrJhTiefOkzZoODMBgzQ0w/s1600/Image00016.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPLl6HKHeWJol_zR1x6wqtb5viC0-KrAPWdDAUpmb0MbnL3DyY4vDlNfA7hAyuNjrAdext9Hw17ALvF0PeE2sWKy4gJOwImtRzlpRcp9L4dUBnFB8gEtqfxZrJhTiefOkzZoODMBgzQ0w/s320/Image00016.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480209589550312610" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Johnnie smiling after his log spin victory, while a soaking wet Willie shivers in the cold mountain air and curses MC, Allie, for talking too much.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVogExVZIAOwBuCQLvREjYoLu86SulYdjlG1uWKF4p_4Q1dXv959XY_ypfnfcxL7sHvPUgtyZzFArqTJTkIzyUamGVq7heH6WLnvSJXgb4d0w1zBW2Ma_EKOHijBKW-jc3zqYT3xpcHOI/s1600/Image00024.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVogExVZIAOwBuCQLvREjYoLu86SulYdjlG1uWKF4p_4Q1dXv959XY_ypfnfcxL7sHvPUgtyZzFArqTJTkIzyUamGVq7heH6WLnvSJXgb4d0w1zBW2Ma_EKOHijBKW-jc3zqYT3xpcHOI/s320/Image00024.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480209922270789442" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The $47 Eye in the Sky ride - the only wind-power generator that you can actually ride to the centre of, in an elevator pod.)</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyz29bzTo8kTvD2x2iIriUxq_LxA3J0XK8XM30f3S4pXXloFOSlo64SrBiFgw8Kq6Y8l-rai5mODrOKDD9t_g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>(Riding this zipline costs about $105 a person.)</div><div><br /></div><div>At 4:00 PM I had to rush back down the mountain and get to the Capilano Suspension Bridge again to catch the last free shuttle back to downtown Vancouver. When I got back to Vancouver, I set up a reservation at a nice looking Greek restaurant, and then rushed back to the beach at English Bay to get some better pictures now that I was experiencing the first truly sunny hour since arriving in Vancouver.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzYrOb3OBmJJR3hOFnPa-O6-MIEvc_dK2jAH3GT6qivgnOB3UrQNU8iaGXIiD0O55TTWG0lhpC2vD-5E36hNIUjOebZN9N_q4AjX3QfAZcxbhOc4TawXGfe1Kmm0wf3ePn6mTTwy82wg/s1600/Image00027.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzYrOb3OBmJJR3hOFnPa-O6-MIEvc_dK2jAH3GT6qivgnOB3UrQNU8iaGXIiD0O55TTWG0lhpC2vD-5E36hNIUjOebZN9N_q4AjX3QfAZcxbhOc4TawXGfe1Kmm0wf3ePn6mTTwy82wg/s320/Image00027.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480211473388593058" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiUxS45rwKJfYK_gO2PFUJFLCraLDiAFk15EKmP0TVTYotJaHOr0FtBiyzHUJNpASBeLdBjTEsV80XETLjBotE8LWgcSZeoHHBfoTezzvbffN6y4oNF4kt4N9AeaFg-6nK5oN3iUkUqs/s1600/Image00029.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiUxS45rwKJfYK_gO2PFUJFLCraLDiAFk15EKmP0TVTYotJaHOr0FtBiyzHUJNpASBeLdBjTEsV80XETLjBotE8LWgcSZeoHHBfoTezzvbffN6y4oNF4kt4N9AeaFg-6nK5oN3iUkUqs/s320/Image00029.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480211482635568978" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrmDk6LGyfOzXccFAktTCVHjd-ZR_tEuzV9fYzuqnbBYWsOEIyiapJ7zMGOFJ-TAWwaQqnFDE3uMBgTEyLCGu2qji9sX3PQo0FBZBfyWpsx0ABjAUr8_xtZbTH9bEkkc1S7DIqu2d6I8/s1600/Image00028.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrmDk6LGyfOzXccFAktTCVHjd-ZR_tEuzV9fYzuqnbBYWsOEIyiapJ7zMGOFJ-TAWwaQqnFDE3uMBgTEyLCGu2qji9sX3PQo0FBZBfyWpsx0ABjAUr8_xtZbTH9bEkkc1S7DIqu2d6I8/s320/Image00028.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480211475350802418" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88igF4ZXMa63folfaeSQMvpPV95JgO5mUhWHHBKCxl8wYHGDk258VcbkuUI1vDnNibB-6OfjynCmoyGfisf-kW2OPfaEXxktRuK6T070kHBbR0rv3y8ougx81bBsAfSDZAYurTTxSVzM/s1600/Image00030.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi88igF4ZXMa63folfaeSQMvpPV95JgO5mUhWHHBKCxl8wYHGDk258VcbkuUI1vDnNibB-6OfjynCmoyGfisf-kW2OPfaEXxktRuK6T070kHBbR0rv3y8ougx81bBsAfSDZAYurTTxSVzM/s320/Image00030.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480211487515802434" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> </div><div><br /></div><div>At 6:00 PM I went to wait for my friend Hyo-young, whom I had met in Grande Prairie, and her friend Olivia, with whom Hyo-young was now studying English in Vancouver, at the Yaletown Skytrain station.</div><div><br /></div><div>The evening before Hyo-young, Olivia, and I had also met and eaten sundubu (spicy tofu soup) at a Korean restaurant downtown. Olivia had said she could "eat Korean food any time in Korea" and that she wanted to try Greek food, but had always been met with long lineups when she attempted before (hence my reservation).</div><div><br /></div><div>After stuffing myself to the lower esophageal sphincter, and paying for the meal, I walked my two friends back to the Granville Skytrain station, and went back home to prepare for my flight the next day.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNuL_EG022uDqoJEJzi2CuWny-6C_RvF6pcZa87kGXpf2T4oOtW52YxGPwZhAB0rgJNOxE63EE0iZA5bW50sRL3jMpXLdom-LR74keRuFgnor2vQpbKEeHFO4yaLUBWiRSdU5BeescsE/s1600/Image00032.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkNuL_EG022uDqoJEJzi2CuWny-6C_RvF6pcZa87kGXpf2T4oOtW52YxGPwZhAB0rgJNOxE63EE0iZA5bW50sRL3jMpXLdom-LR74keRuFgnor2vQpbKEeHFO4yaLUBWiRSdU5BeescsE/s320/Image00032.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480220988732771538" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(I've been in Vancouver four days. Do I look Korean yet?)</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-38473766646627748862010-06-07T11:40:00.001-07:002010-06-07T18:18:02.132-07:00Vancouver Day 3When I woke up today, the clouds were greyer than usual and had decided to drop their water harder and more copiously than usual. My two major attractions left that I had planned to see were Grouse Mountain and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Capilano</span> Suspension Bridge. Since Grouse Mountain is, well, on top of a mountain, and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Capilano</span> Suspension Bridge is in a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">rain forest</span> with massive Douglas Firs creating a literal umbrella to block the rain, I chose the latter to visit today.<br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjktwAhG2_M2jdsPEtPEay7dpiCwVQyIDXZzPwlj-rryC-WBKWlTtG4USAie1bdl1gNU5mCyzvi-aj2Riq_FRFjgcAMd1lDKiD1x_gNK_rMu9FS4gJU1HmOxWkOG4INoHR-uvkhyXrF6ao/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjktwAhG2_M2jdsPEtPEay7dpiCwVQyIDXZzPwlj-rryC-WBKWlTtG4USAie1bdl1gNU5mCyzvi-aj2Riq_FRFjgcAMd1lDKiD1x_gNK_rMu9FS4gJU1HmOxWkOG4INoHR-uvkhyXrF6ao/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104145224308114" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>As a giant cheap-o, I of course walked six blocks out of my way to catch the free shuttle bus to the entrance of the bridge. This was a great improvement over what the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Capilano</span> "Tramps" had to face back in the 1890s, when it was the first tourist attraction in the Vancouver area.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyP8w2vM3NYQbHNSrxnvW0D0KhdltxMMHk00TAZeJ74Oi8eIYN3DNNrMdx7hd1B9MmDeHSff5pQuyPjDxgLlT2ISKcUaYdMNnTUEe9IqGyBqjuvbs8P09ry1M2PMqJK_N1q13djkKaaE/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyP8w2vM3NYQbHNSrxnvW0D0KhdltxMMHk00TAZeJ74Oi8eIYN3DNNrMdx7hd1B9MmDeHSff5pQuyPjDxgLlT2ISKcUaYdMNnTUEe9IqGyBqjuvbs8P09ry1M2PMqJK_N1q13djkKaaE/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104150114072578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The inside of the shuttle bus was outfitted to look like a 1920s street car.)</div><div><br /></div><div>In those '90s, only wealthy people could visit the bridge, because it required the freedom to take an entire day off from work while you took a slow ferry across the river to North Vancouver, and then take part in a 10 km hike to the bridge. Today it requires $30 to see, so in a sense you still have to be pretty wealthy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Often the ladies in the group would shed and stash their large hats and frilly dresses, that they had to wear to ride the ferry, in the trees once they reached the other side. Unfortunately for them, the expensive dresses were often pilfered from their hiding places when the women returned.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bILPbm6PJDzA9kci7hPbOgPcCgI88EZ8pvUunacMG90cgX9dYEeVY_DWEZ9B42SBiSzMXm8ZbRIhnWDHkbhdqJ1Uy4PaNZNeVhBZF0k8cFcBgPplPHuImFV7n-i9H6FY1IKpA3xkNiU/s1600/IMG_7706.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bILPbm6PJDzA9kci7hPbOgPcCgI88EZ8pvUunacMG90cgX9dYEeVY_DWEZ9B42SBiSzMXm8ZbRIhnWDHkbhdqJ1Uy4PaNZNeVhBZF0k8cFcBgPplPHuImFV7n-i9H6FY1IKpA3xkNiU/s320/IMG_7706.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480124850320349874" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdnHGHHYznEteBtcRRmCRXuHE4spyoQNvSCeDzvBo9ixD5j7CNALI0ZexQVVM3yWf2NJq-yKjik_PJR4H6Ne3CtnOYx4oY_pQMesT07CRH_imrF7r-M_NbSmiHg7irNjSLxSWN5Bg7Z7I/s1600/IMG_7705.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdnHGHHYznEteBtcRRmCRXuHE4spyoQNvSCeDzvBo9ixD5j7CNALI0ZexQVVM3yWf2NJq-yKjik_PJR4H6Ne3CtnOYx4oY_pQMesT07CRH_imrF7r-M_NbSmiHg7irNjSLxSWN5Bg7Z7I/s320/IMG_7705.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480124848875883842" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>You might not be able to read the signs, but they say the bridge is nearly as wide as two Boeing 747 planes, and as tall as the Statue of Liberty's shoulders.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu9aU-SivlTukMT6x2x5k4f04RNLLk23sQ_O3mVOEd3cuCOyV_4xx6Pd_6ywJli_QKVn05qPDMo91zZ1dft8eBlIapqYPEmmS19GmMnBCZ8HZ9IzizZfqxG6ZdEN_f8qJkE4lj-9hmOy0/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu9aU-SivlTukMT6x2x5k4f04RNLLk23sQ_O3mVOEd3cuCOyV_4xx6Pd_6ywJli_QKVn05qPDMo91zZ1dft8eBlIapqYPEmmS19GmMnBCZ8HZ9IzizZfqxG6ZdEN_f8qJkE4lj-9hmOy0/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104909078814914" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The 747 Statue of Liberty bridge.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OWd4QIwbHOWLdJbrmUlfvNRdoX5vRZwKKSAPrvp-I4ix1hhsy8KCkPMQM121vm7-2mz2yslRTRzf1vTT0pQYVfu6Cp0NkY-0ag7ZnCb-HSuEFWKdFkXUQgOLRqpToXP4HLfrplLQZi0/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OWd4QIwbHOWLdJbrmUlfvNRdoX5vRZwKKSAPrvp-I4ix1hhsy8KCkPMQM121vm7-2mz2yslRTRzf1vTT0pQYVfu6Cp0NkY-0ag7ZnCb-HSuEFWKdFkXUQgOLRqpToXP4HLfrplLQZi0/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104154935802338" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Before I crossed the bridge I visited the totem pole park, and met Ben Spencer a First Nations artist working on a ceremonial paddle that would be sold and used in a dance of some kind later.</div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw0H8NJYrWi54a-v7tUl-R1GyMwlpNVrBRtUvUT63CPexyKkq4JWUfiWgTi2R3USL0O80I07LoKAbzojQEywg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>(Crossing the rapids, 200 metres up.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi44KEp5CiCPXg3Sn-CyD-cB4_YmBrFnkCBJ9J_x9Ynb2WZw0JH_l9WsN6aWzDP3aoDW7NQr8ztyNxr_m73d8Ssc-lMsPnuWYXR94Q1pxWVJ-oiSmr5Q4xF5lAWV_S71ZLiqH-Jmd1_Ef4/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi44KEp5CiCPXg3Sn-CyD-cB4_YmBrFnkCBJ9J_x9Ynb2WZw0JH_l9WsN6aWzDP3aoDW7NQr8ztyNxr_m73d8Ssc-lMsPnuWYXR94Q1pxWVJ-oiSmr5Q4xF5lAWV_S71ZLiqH-Jmd1_Ef4/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104503894187682" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLpzLzX09jQK3NUWTkeV6yyEiKJ8QszJ8QUNM1GDfBJgMi1__Qy1ocA18cmxVOa-XetpN81IMvnJcXqpW4S_RiVtgT12jTRQsAljf5W-uv33cKc0pjOTz00Owa5Opc1JIkBxOSKpdl18/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLpzLzX09jQK3NUWTkeV6yyEiKJ8QszJ8QUNM1GDfBJgMi1__Qy1ocA18cmxVOa-XetpN81IMvnJcXqpW4S_RiVtgT12jTRQsAljf5W-uv33cKc0pjOTz00Owa5Opc1JIkBxOSKpdl18/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104507628272930" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> </div><div><br /></div><div>Once I crossed the bridge I joined a forest floor nature walk, semi-safe from the rain by the massive Firs looming over head.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lpPr6cz7OSYvuDSSrdhJxXXyGQGlh2po92A2tZwbw3zVCLBTObi1I0TgT54w9LUKxmage9CYLz92-90Zifwjg6RlviHJmHmWdnf7rsmrGQypTWn6d2YXTQCVGDhxGqKhAjBD5gR_Gps/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lpPr6cz7OSYvuDSSrdhJxXXyGQGlh2po92A2tZwbw3zVCLBTObi1I0TgT54w9LUKxmage9CYLz92-90Zifwjg6RlviHJmHmWdnf7rsmrGQypTWn6d2YXTQCVGDhxGqKhAjBD5gR_Gps/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104503589844626" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After the tour, I ascended the trees to experience one of the best parts of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Capilano</span> Bridge adventure park, the Tree Top Adventure, the first of its kind in North America.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDDTlNh4Q1NM1W0b5Z5gM4GKUlj96X-2J-jtB4u6X3UDnnWgXdchpMNmV_CCu3TF9HBNC2fvXE77SeORArv0YOzylUkMs912R4VffdfAXFToEXjjR4jBfzwk8Q7Fo8DWRc2ZtG9WGtwU/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDDTlNh4Q1NM1W0b5Z5gM4GKUlj96X-2J-jtB4u6X3UDnnWgXdchpMNmV_CCu3TF9HBNC2fvXE77SeORArv0YOzylUkMs912R4VffdfAXFToEXjjR4jBfzwk8Q7Fo8DWRc2ZtG9WGtwU/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104160436330658" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Swaying on wooden bridges, 30 metres up in the Douglas Firs - even above some of the other trees as you can see in the above picture - the Tree Top Adventure is almost worth the trip to Vancouver alone.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfZ173uM_J4GZW9SiNbfGZL9V8AMcdzGpMS6L-72hnGb2YuMyWTrS3bmjNokMPmu8lagdgAgsuxUhN7QevtGVh1wr8o-N0xZ5fh8_5cgyDKWlfSHLNi1wz_-hwWq1YsmZQxdiXj1VatU/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfZ173uM_J4GZW9SiNbfGZL9V8AMcdzGpMS6L-72hnGb2YuMyWTrS3bmjNokMPmu8lagdgAgsuxUhN7QevtGVh1wr8o-N0xZ5fh8_5cgyDKWlfSHLNi1wz_-hwWq1YsmZQxdiXj1VatU/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104513805467842" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Or, you could come to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Capilano</span> Bridge for the amazing feeling of being above the mist and the trees.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEYow9hBoo19W52YfmvASq7B4dKxFVOcVWPcLqwht0WcDJaIbnzMPmDAoGqmRHP-He9eXGlwE1tzEOMCAfTHKGkT4-Jd4Wpp4Z5NXQK4YO8TAk99ObyB9SYP3MulxalxxFMBkyX0HziU/s1600/Image00013.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEYow9hBoo19W52YfmvASq7B4dKxFVOcVWPcLqwht0WcDJaIbnzMPmDAoGqmRHP-He9eXGlwE1tzEOMCAfTHKGkT4-Jd4Wpp4Z5NXQK4YO8TAk99ObyB9SYP3MulxalxxFMBkyX0HziU/s320/Image00013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104930710376658" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>When I returned to the totem park, Ben had finished his paddle. He told me it took him 2 weeks to make, but that other, more elaborate carvings like masks could take up to 6 months.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6RyGNTXcrKLRp4P4n_PKEdjnpixDVVsI0M7SCtME50RqgfW04ysBzQW2WJCrIfUzwz1J00awpmN7kHJdLlTdroRxW4H50y5h0NFpftJhX5L_cRtSPSj6mnS7OI7-KuDwb8DGFA4Nprfg/s1600/Image00014.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6RyGNTXcrKLRp4P4n_PKEdjnpixDVVsI0M7SCtME50RqgfW04ysBzQW2WJCrIfUzwz1J00awpmN7kHJdLlTdroRxW4H50y5h0NFpftJhX5L_cRtSPSj6mnS7OI7-KuDwb8DGFA4Nprfg/s320/Image00014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104937363894738" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>As if you needed more reasons to come to Vancouver, how about boulevards like this?</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJeoPe5SqtOXTCSmdY2pVnDbMseT00-2yqj-m3MqOoPnHCiQtIlCzLfH-YB5KtE2h0WnpsmF_DEMpFd7hnOBZSolVr-bGYlJ31kopjpqFlKInkVvQvfde8TM0C2cWI6x0FKH336D-L7Q/s1600/Image00015.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJeoPe5SqtOXTCSmdY2pVnDbMseT00-2yqj-m3MqOoPnHCiQtIlCzLfH-YB5KtE2h0WnpsmF_DEMpFd7hnOBZSolVr-bGYlJ31kopjpqFlKInkVvQvfde8TM0C2cWI6x0FKH336D-L7Q/s320/Image00015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480104939461627234" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Or, maybe you have cancer? I suspect there will soon be no KFCs in Vancouver (don't worry if you didn't get the joke, it was a South Park reference).</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTNaEkneN2AdgM5ULm8aXJCRssSL2h_8pEZ_mS1np9XM7BxUaqIOl6nFaPLAhj0ykgCv9bNJ992zeQlswQsg1RCKQZA-Gwg3wD3eofW9kU2SYCGpyRf-ZZb5o-QoYcKvMIq2t22wdv8Y/s1600/Image00017.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTNaEkneN2AdgM5ULm8aXJCRssSL2h_8pEZ_mS1np9XM7BxUaqIOl6nFaPLAhj0ykgCv9bNJ992zeQlswQsg1RCKQZA-Gwg3wD3eofW9kU2SYCGpyRf-ZZb5o-QoYcKvMIq2t22wdv8Y/s320/Image00017.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480105267537708178" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I prefer the big buildings though. This building would probably earn about a hundred fines in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Grande</span> Prairie for being too tall; you know it has to be good.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3w_77vqOupZDOxCGC9C0sK3efZCIK8OPlrbiIMulhd2vL6y4VTr-_AuqpITFxPyO2wYG6DU4D6xjqiM1sYbt2XKSXwpH9XQNs3HIIZqSI0fKbuEVQ2ZGX_g1wfYP56zBQVMcp2zXi-Io/s1600/Image00021.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3w_77vqOupZDOxCGC9C0sK3efZCIK8OPlrbiIMulhd2vL6y4VTr-_AuqpITFxPyO2wYG6DU4D6xjqiM1sYbt2XKSXwpH9XQNs3HIIZqSI0fKbuEVQ2ZGX_g1wfYP56zBQVMcp2zXi-Io/s320/Image00021.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480105380094054178" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Korea Exchange Bank? I haven't seen one o' them in... five months?)</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-71373532822023440052010-06-06T06:58:00.000-07:002010-06-06T12:12:20.287-07:00Vancouver Day 2With my new sight seeing day in hand, I decided to visit The Telus World of Science building I had noticed the day before when I walked by False Creek.<br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55tCZfU99WLhivswSzp9p9SvQ9xxOaamQpPXfWnP0PpGAechsdLUlawfJjCqNzdlRIufFY6i9zh5DDHkB6RWQ3rCvQ_dj92riicz4NzUizYzXp7uymg-T3AbSWOuts1ISf-ajGhiqZUU/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55tCZfU99WLhivswSzp9p9SvQ9xxOaamQpPXfWnP0PpGAechsdLUlawfJjCqNzdlRIufFY6i9zh5DDHkB6RWQ3rCvQ_dj92riicz4NzUizYzXp7uymg-T3AbSWOuts1ISf-ajGhiqZUU/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479660117777097058" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(This guy either really hated his bike, or really wanted to keep it safe.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJmbMdWvseg7LLOQOKG90YKV7LhX-7xnFXDQTDj8izgtiKl8I6i1qVP9eS7IF8hUGTpYoyn57rxtKnlHrJSvEYzK5i0vhyphenhyphenh9ywMvu0oazgNU32yN4qu6pXmvtFfSZWLvvUwnn7y9ORgU/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJmbMdWvseg7LLOQOKG90YKV7LhX-7xnFXDQTDj8izgtiKl8I6i1qVP9eS7IF8hUGTpYoyn57rxtKnlHrJSvEYzK5i0vhyphenhyphenh9ywMvu0oazgNU32yN4qu6pXmvtFfSZWLvvUwnn7y9ORgU/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479660125050534818" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The classic skyline of downtown Vancouver. Notice how the sky has really improved today.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Built inside a large geodesic dome, the Telus World of Science in Vancouver is more or less exactly like the Telus World of Science in Edmonton, with the exception that Vancouver's version has a stronger emphases on saving the environment. This is most likely because unlike Alberta, it's not illegal to care about the environment in Vancouver.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsmPTEjy0c1Y79JBUd2UvsZhKrXkMxpUaFSqkUPqAOzQlmiW3wconF9Hc6G06Z-H5yZRq8pkJR4CHYL5_P_4IwVgJIHfMDHTEVIDnYlK_TKPCjCB-H7Ln7rCEEso4ygIVuUZl_QMTM6nA/s1600/IMG_7606.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsmPTEjy0c1Y79JBUd2UvsZhKrXkMxpUaFSqkUPqAOzQlmiW3wconF9Hc6G06Z-H5yZRq8pkJR4CHYL5_P_4IwVgJIHfMDHTEVIDnYlK_TKPCjCB-H7Ln7rCEEso4ygIVuUZl_QMTM6nA/s320/IMG_7606.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479660761675395586" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenC7MzD4Yidr4T42obqQGDFcRxHS5n3yQEv0jKR1cuA7gpGS-PaixiFDDPn6JIP0cE729YbO3rYkD7gceG3Ho0pDQlZ2w4lPLHUR8-CprbzwUKdmzUsrS8Z87dNrGounQQ7jX3EM1JUo/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenC7MzD4Yidr4T42obqQGDFcRxHS5n3yQEv0jKR1cuA7gpGS-PaixiFDDPn6JIP0cE729YbO3rYkD7gceG3Ho0pDQlZ2w4lPLHUR8-CprbzwUKdmzUsrS8Z87dNrGounQQ7jX3EM1JUo/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479660137845640834" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvS47l4Z23KrlGKaDZ5mTSrN8awUM-lOqqPzQhKLBL4cDo7a-T7PBAAIwvXBl3ew1az33yVGTgzCNx0VsVs2NVCyMW6kSD5KD-iX5sjJUZPSdfYS27CMQI97vm98SDz9gYHBkMfLOJYM/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvS47l4Z23KrlGKaDZ5mTSrN8awUM-lOqqPzQhKLBL4cDo7a-T7PBAAIwvXBl3ew1az33yVGTgzCNx0VsVs2NVCyMW6kSD5KD-iX5sjJUZPSdfYS27CMQI97vm98SDz9gYHBkMfLOJYM/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479660126068078178" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PVmy7XU5puXHzdV7-_rRg8lQSA-JZ38t2H8pY-bor6XiGLGt574VVf3uZ32V2WFU7BvXDIRepxdwOpCsVeDk5troEcFHknwkiuiLrQZ3HuGxXVCxgXiSkhhi0u5t9DE8pVxIGmKlmdM/s1600/Image00020.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PVmy7XU5puXHzdV7-_rRg8lQSA-JZ38t2H8pY-bor6XiGLGt574VVf3uZ32V2WFU7BvXDIRepxdwOpCsVeDk5troEcFHknwkiuiLrQZ3HuGxXVCxgXiSkhhi0u5t9DE8pVxIGmKlmdM/s320/Image00020.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479679530483768226" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBdD6iA5jH-kZo4ZhbbVqAIwVF2VW3xa-zkYRGyg0pLsNJovZNCqy14JD0kKH5_Oqho-eT8geBQaEgJHJf6F6kSvLcX1mRYdphFmrRwwiLr1RzY3FPfU7ZHAOuzyMLuuq2oARKBfqamg/s1600/IMG_7604.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBdD6iA5jH-kZo4ZhbbVqAIwVF2VW3xa-zkYRGyg0pLsNJovZNCqy14JD0kKH5_Oqho-eT8geBQaEgJHJf6F6kSvLcX1mRYdphFmrRwwiLr1RzY3FPfU7ZHAOuzyMLuuq2oARKBfqamg/s320/IMG_7604.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479679893563148178" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>As you might have been able to read in the sign, the four globes above, are part of a larger, travelling public art display that has been around the world called Cool Globes that I found in front of the entrance. Designed by students, artists, and community groups, the one-tonne globes are meant to display solutions to/educate about Global Warming.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvd0MAnbLWN7yU8Qwc39OWPCttSlcyOvLLe_L1lTAGdmwQo-b0Azka-PNF1XM5vzzKbXP24_RTFfAgiVDr_DlzPWdppLtaLxhnUBSP8sufyxN76Ekn3_M8k41mak8auAwu4ytM03kvtFM/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvd0MAnbLWN7yU8Qwc39OWPCttSlcyOvLLe_L1lTAGdmwQo-b0Azka-PNF1XM5vzzKbXP24_RTFfAgiVDr_DlzPWdppLtaLxhnUBSP8sufyxN76Ekn3_M8k41mak8auAwu4ytM03kvtFM/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479660774454862818" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(With everything from giant, human running powered electric generators to air cannons, pictured above, the Telus World of Science has something for children and David's alike.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhHLKCiS99Rnj1HVxLJfXsm1YSn3Opn0ErG3oc_Ai_zw7vuJVdan3YUhDSzs28BbHtRvEblUBH06jzJnXl5K0PM0tib1AkXpOurcAjSRNThlxeZ9s9OuWkI59B0rBffYtseyiSiKLoy0/s1600/IMG_7608.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxhHLKCiS99Rnj1HVxLJfXsm1YSn3Opn0ErG3oc_Ai_zw7vuJVdan3YUhDSzs28BbHtRvEblUBH06jzJnXl5K0PM0tib1AkXpOurcAjSRNThlxeZ9s9OuWkI59B0rBffYtseyiSiKLoy0/s320/IMG_7608.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479719198062354834" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After exploring all the exhibits, and setting the record score in a reaction time test (above), I walked up a seemingly endless spiralling ramp to get to the OMNIMAX Theatre at the top of the dome to view a movie.</div><div><br /></div><div>OMNIMAX is like IMAX on steroids. Built by IMAX, the screen is about three times as wide as a normal IMAX screen, twice as high, and is curved in a half dome shape that extends over head. It offers 180-degrees of screen for your chiropractor's pleasure. </div><div><br /></div><div>I watched 9-time World Surfing Champion, Kelly Slater, travel to Tahiti to surf gigantic waves that literally looked like they would crash on my head. In between big waves, the film's producers tried to justify its place in the World of Science by explaining how waves were formed, but then it was back to the action.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXguwcyDBMpexK5jGh_3Y9nrqLnHVvUQfq8Nfo7CTsqQxIbUsuyaJao2atj4-f-lGwpk6xbXB5cHnXVdU3faGSRjUcbxobXcdw1VKxjqkJKyA7eTD1lgiLi1i6vcKE_grfbDAQASCE5RQ/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXguwcyDBMpexK5jGh_3Y9nrqLnHVvUQfq8Nfo7CTsqQxIbUsuyaJao2atj4-f-lGwpk6xbXB5cHnXVdU3faGSRjUcbxobXcdw1VKxjqkJKyA7eTD1lgiLi1i6vcKE_grfbDAQASCE5RQ/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479660780070269666" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The waves were so scary I aged 25 years.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I left the World of Science in the mid-afternoon because I had to meet a friend at 5:00 PM. On the way back along False Creek the clouds parted for a brief time, and I was able to capture for posterity (or at least the ten year before the file corrupts) what makes Vancouver one of the most beautiful modern cities in the world.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk2wX6DUU1Gt7EzxngbMrIuT6aneD2X8zz83rjvL9mja28Cgxt3WQlt6vi6i_yoE8P8GuqgURte9YxRLQtsxRbrjihagaLm0Tt5UAjL6WIY3O5-O4dPFkPaPe3G8vjA2YEPyJFp6gpFs/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk2wX6DUU1Gt7EzxngbMrIuT6aneD2X8zz83rjvL9mja28Cgxt3WQlt6vi6i_yoE8P8GuqgURte9YxRLQtsxRbrjihagaLm0Tt5UAjL6WIY3O5-O4dPFkPaPe3G8vjA2YEPyJFp6gpFs/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479660788077989154" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(False Creek again, but with a tiny bit of colour this time.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-i7KxPdmVjyExJj9WweTUyDASatnpUpjnpsz_y-sGIQGkmxZRYMKUQpZ1Jvl3tZnKvK3QZBuN0pBt-QgHx-AO9iPlRue4YWvUSCjwGhq3W6PFOQH-85KHMZwiNxhgRIkL_JYGJlk8Rc/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-i7KxPdmVjyExJj9WweTUyDASatnpUpjnpsz_y-sGIQGkmxZRYMKUQpZ1Jvl3tZnKvK3QZBuN0pBt-QgHx-AO9iPlRue4YWvUSCjwGhq3W6PFOQH-85KHMZwiNxhgRIkL_JYGJlk8Rc/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479660795241184402" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-i7KxPdmVjyExJj9WweTUyDASatnpUpjnpsz_y-sGIQGkmxZRYMKUQpZ1Jvl3tZnKvK3QZBuN0pBt-QgHx-AO9iPlRue4YWvUSCjwGhq3W6PFOQH-85KHMZwiNxhgRIkL_JYGJlk8Rc/s1600/Image00009.jpg"></a>(Some excellent looking, modern condos across from the casino on the False Creek water front. Pay attention Grande Prairie, these are what luxury condos look like. Don't be fooled by four-storey imposters.)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ySECp2qMMP7Lc64_HGPxNOe53VWHoI4BUXd6icVr1lOZJVoQGJrvB1JEkAADqciPFwLpxUUFALqn1sXC_o2HwTVIl6XVrUaDwUVVzYMqoHg7KpGGayhV66ENx1tQXs3_z9prLfgqn3Q/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ySECp2qMMP7Lc64_HGPxNOe53VWHoI4BUXd6icVr1lOZJVoQGJrvB1JEkAADqciPFwLpxUUFALqn1sXC_o2HwTVIl6XVrUaDwUVVzYMqoHg7KpGGayhV66ENx1tQXs3_z9prLfgqn3Q/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479661306525465682" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ySECp2qMMP7Lc64_HGPxNOe53VWHoI4BUXd6icVr1lOZJVoQGJrvB1JEkAADqciPFwLpxUUFALqn1sXC_o2HwTVIl6XVrUaDwUVVzYMqoHg7KpGGayhV66ENx1tQXs3_z9prLfgqn3Q/s1600/Image00011.jpg"></a>(Boats)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpSqMmpU9e64Y6If-rTmKu8wcSxGvQJVicUu1MiRmYOeCnVrydbrRgtItvY6v_bUSvWPB1IZgBAY2MfiqSPGaBC89gap2EZSEceAtej2a-0aOrBJ8d2yDN-kL7yXT_Jb98vUoUxRvF90/s1600/Image00013.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpSqMmpU9e64Y6If-rTmKu8wcSxGvQJVicUu1MiRmYOeCnVrydbrRgtItvY6v_bUSvWPB1IZgBAY2MfiqSPGaBC89gap2EZSEceAtej2a-0aOrBJ8d2yDN-kL7yXT_Jb98vUoUxRvF90/s320/Image00013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479661318675825922" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpSqMmpU9e64Y6If-rTmKu8wcSxGvQJVicUu1MiRmYOeCnVrydbrRgtItvY6v_bUSvWPB1IZgBAY2MfiqSPGaBC89gap2EZSEceAtej2a-0aOrBJ8d2yDN-kL7yXT_Jb98vUoUxRvF90/s1600/Image00013.jpg"></a>(More boats, and tall buildings.)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRu5dLIDG2jb8jbtN1yQ8DRvtFbePbtFKbZhB-erMhshZfva5UgCG8kHYhePuamgrPaPPgi1tB81aQIp0BzvTlRpUhoyXz4mGHVn87i3bp_i6rxR7MdWfLwct_4PlASDduJCKAepJKPMk/s1600/Image00015.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRu5dLIDG2jb8jbtN1yQ8DRvtFbePbtFKbZhB-erMhshZfva5UgCG8kHYhePuamgrPaPPgi1tB81aQIp0BzvTlRpUhoyXz4mGHVn87i3bp_i6rxR7MdWfLwct_4PlASDduJCKAepJKPMk/s320/Image00015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479661679351497554" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRu5dLIDG2jb8jbtN1yQ8DRvtFbePbtFKbZhB-erMhshZfva5UgCG8kHYhePuamgrPaPPgi1tB81aQIp0BzvTlRpUhoyXz4mGHVn87i3bp_i6rxR7MdWfLwct_4PlASDduJCKAepJKPMk/s1600/Image00015.jpg"></a>(Hip coffee shops and restaurants among the hip condos and offices of Yaletown.)</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlqTnEDretIGfPf089UdS4G2r0Rb8ZOwfyw0aukvX_8jXiHydeH9rk1EHCuH27Kzub5UlR54vzV8apWu3XqQild7rGsQAdNgkwcXk1kcF4CqDaeK6UPLLO10GrLZVAMCASq7ISh58BQI/s1600/Image00014.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmlqTnEDretIGfPf089UdS4G2r0Rb8ZOwfyw0aukvX_8jXiHydeH9rk1EHCuH27Kzub5UlR54vzV8apWu3XqQild7rGsQAdNgkwcXk1kcF4CqDaeK6UPLLO10GrLZVAMCASq7ISh58BQI/s320/Image00014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479661320723111666" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><br /></div><div>(A much better view of the Roundhouse Community Centre. Notice the child trying to "tight rope" walk the top of the black siding.)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUHHGntsT_EhTMAk3fKnQS-P10UAYyVbh_ft78ra7Rm9d5I9b7Cg6oEtaUui-xJbCgJowLi56cTPLxBetodbiu805Sya150mFslJwXJxSN0BtE-Vkz0XNmgouHq8K3cUpWMt4-1FSTFQ/s1600/Image00017.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUHHGntsT_EhTMAk3fKnQS-P10UAYyVbh_ft78ra7Rm9d5I9b7Cg6oEtaUui-xJbCgJowLi56cTPLxBetodbiu805Sya150mFslJwXJxSN0BtE-Vkz0XNmgouHq8K3cUpWMt4-1FSTFQ/s320/Image00017.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479661687475115538" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUHHGntsT_EhTMAk3fKnQS-P10UAYyVbh_ft78ra7Rm9d5I9b7Cg6oEtaUui-xJbCgJowLi56cTPLxBetodbiu805Sya150mFslJwXJxSN0BtE-Vkz0XNmgouHq8K3cUpWMt4-1FSTFQ/s1600/Image00017.jpg"></a>(I went five blocks out of my way for this picture.)<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fkfhtA6fLVif7_ltw_hwUKVQXFzaTVppGYlOygxwko5Kpspbg_hKVdhmwhoGLX6uJtU9PmhJnk64adHZOWw5FukKpYUMv9a1ma3dqlAy0pa3GDRQZPOTjW2Ic6RK8zp1pXlLIMDWM84/s1600/Image00018.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6fkfhtA6fLVif7_ltw_hwUKVQXFzaTVppGYlOygxwko5Kpspbg_hKVdhmwhoGLX6uJtU9PmhJnk64adHZOWw5FukKpYUMv9a1ma3dqlAy0pa3GDRQZPOTjW2Ic6RK8zp1pXlLIMDWM84/s320/Image00018.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479661693099029138" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>(Why is there a giant gas meter on the front of that brick building?)</div><div><br /></div><div>I was quite excited to meet my friend, since I hadn't seen her for two years since she moved to Vancouver from Grande Prairie. It's always nice to have a local friend too, because they know the cool places to go, like the beach at English Bay, only three blocks behind my hostel but somewhere I would never have gone without her, because I didn't know it was there.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNRja3lOEBVrrl3E-ckra_szHgOsqwuc_m1_pQxQM1qKMXG1QfWStV20WYwSMGfnhz8ovLFp6mmyaOlkOTFXEM-tnZzudsjaLg1ykqzRF-2DSveqRvoljqCtUSnTXpd-rluUlEVOhkVo/s1600/Image00019.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNRja3lOEBVrrl3E-ckra_szHgOsqwuc_m1_pQxQM1qKMXG1QfWStV20WYwSMGfnhz8ovLFp6mmyaOlkOTFXEM-tnZzudsjaLg1ykqzRF-2DSveqRvoljqCtUSnTXpd-rluUlEVOhkVo/s320/Image00019.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479661697965727522" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The storm clouds started to roll back in while we were on the beach, which makes this lonely lifeguard chair look even lonelier. Hmm... that's a good title idea for a children's book, now that I think about it.)</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-35582216589157613552010-06-05T09:33:00.000-07:002010-06-06T07:45:22.371-07:00Vancouver Day 1<div>Once again, for the third time in a row I arrived early at my destination (this time in Vancouver). Chris, a local who rode in front of me on the train, all the way from Toronto as well, helped point me in the right direction, and then I walked about forty five minutes along the False Creek water front to David Street, and then up hill to get to my hostel.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwTsF3IVkR5mbx3oBfAmlVoTZv-2WOaAJ4Av3WsqxPilr2LL2ErZIRgcORaQrTLIImQwWh2l2dhb245DF18pNs_qAJf7_YJDnE7qJNdefekRSjOmfC4-R7_en31wTCl2zqRwMESEre6I/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwTsF3IVkR5mbx3oBfAmlVoTZv-2WOaAJ4Av3WsqxPilr2LL2ErZIRgcORaQrTLIImQwWh2l2dhb245DF18pNs_qAJf7_YJDnE7qJNdefekRSjOmfC4-R7_en31wTCl2zqRwMESEre6I/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479457363553654626" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Patullo</span> Bridge, on the way in to Vancouver. That's the rest of my train on the lower bridge.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpMih6bPz00mE2Z7VJPaVnCuFjTUcvhdISxfqAIDfydKkOZ32Cq4myFuWr23KIXAhLHv6GAJBuPRcZsyoAnpvYw3L2-Jua3k-DVXjvAhgvnRQjlPwNXDcIbG3As4yHY9FYgI_ykUtD5c/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpMih6bPz00mE2Z7VJPaVnCuFjTUcvhdISxfqAIDfydKkOZ32Cq4myFuWr23KIXAhLHv6GAJBuPRcZsyoAnpvYw3L2-Jua3k-DVXjvAhgvnRQjlPwNXDcIbG3As4yHY9FYgI_ykUtD5c/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479457368844451202" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Have you ever seen a train wash? Also, there's a ghost on the left hand side of the picture.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYR9rbKt4blF1O9heTv5uQtjQ8erZu8qE_0BUzTH15WcyKDCgb8m3bWqKMdcO3_DZQQ062F6x2meFxFSCbdh8ypRhHvA3R_e_gjQDyN-dfTFPzVcIFFRwKOLZpDSujpwKibqtqr8QxfE/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYR9rbKt4blF1O9heTv5uQtjQ8erZu8qE_0BUzTH15WcyKDCgb8m3bWqKMdcO3_DZQQ062F6x2meFxFSCbdh8ypRhHvA3R_e_gjQDyN-dfTFPzVcIFFRwKOLZpDSujpwKibqtqr8QxfE/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479457376272521922" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(As you can see in this picture, the sky was depressingly dreary and grey.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzix6HtIjuf_1gMXuBl9teIVWh_aMXq5tM5nWB2p-laYM1r9V7bRJdsoUulqokaB_9xH4qz70QcTupfIBYmjQG6mqQ8XyciCuiOJVvNj5u94C1TG3-DZurEx7fdg-dQ6q_PL2PIl4sE2M/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzix6HtIjuf_1gMXuBl9teIVWh_aMXq5tM5nWB2p-laYM1r9V7bRJdsoUulqokaB_9xH4qz70QcTupfIBYmjQG6mqQ8XyciCuiOJVvNj5u94C1TG3-DZurEx7fdg-dQ6q_PL2PIl4sE2M/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479457745117997986" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(There are very few free ways in Vancouver, if any, but if there is a road that needs to be built, it certainly is not going to get in the way of a children's park.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7Pyn0bHzDrGVDHfjQioOsBnfdVzqEEq7yb_L21XidL1-Yw-wRZV9pkW7pnSPJzvj_7nQ5_jE0ibsbKfYDdKsdmNY1_6WcOEIbYopGp33QfBLH_tcVq1ScDJMgAX9JXyntRJpv_bIPTc/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX7Pyn0bHzDrGVDHfjQioOsBnfdVzqEEq7yb_L21XidL1-Yw-wRZV9pkW7pnSPJzvj_7nQ5_jE0ibsbKfYDdKsdmNY1_6WcOEIbYopGp33QfBLH_tcVq1ScDJMgAX9JXyntRJpv_bIPTc/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479457752198020626" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The Roundhouse Community Centre near Yale Town has a collection of neat restaurants, and was actually an old rail roundhouse.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27Hh4HKPIlIWzEvVtR_5z0hUHdl_t2VbVmcBdw0U37lICJhTu7cN9fWCkQZ_fhKDERJHPccFKwgT4zCX1Jf80eSM8zxv9SqNVZM_SVzhk1jNSfyngU9_BxzNeyh9p8AuIS8i40nS29S4/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj27Hh4HKPIlIWzEvVtR_5z0hUHdl_t2VbVmcBdw0U37lICJhTu7cN9fWCkQZ_fhKDERJHPccFKwgT4zCX1Jf80eSM8zxv9SqNVZM_SVzhk1jNSfyngU9_BxzNeyh9p8AuIS8i40nS29S4/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479457762601037042" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The actual street in front of my hostel.)</div><div><br /></div><div>After taking a shower I had planned to walk aimlessly around downtown, but it soon dawned on me that I had been gifted with an extra day of sight seeing, and I should not waste it unnecessarily. So, instead I turned north and walked to Stanley Park to see the Vancouver Aquarium.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6XU9FpusllTqk126B_9FoPnE7vWtTUZg1yG83OYBAYDJq8na_Ee-eqwpSQv9psZ5zL4Fv9o4F9GsccDcKvsfWffWR37egSd02PPnbPX5CRuHnu10_dAmjGV30h2G8h9PpkhnW3VI31E/s1600/Image00010.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6XU9FpusllTqk126B_9FoPnE7vWtTUZg1yG83OYBAYDJq8na_Ee-eqwpSQv9psZ5zL4Fv9o4F9GsccDcKvsfWffWR37egSd02PPnbPX5CRuHnu10_dAmjGV30h2G8h9PpkhnW3VI31E/s320/Image00010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479457764841157074" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Old buildings nestled amongst the modern one; a Vancouver trademark.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMy0etSCNEecYl7yGHGl4K2w08XNE2PHynsiylvwgxP_LeV46BiUf-IbHJu2Jm4v2nBjo598OkYU_2EB1dZjVGla369dwuDaWXgogjFA344aUvvoPUMH4nHYyx645jTEmcDGvLTSr8k0/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnMy0etSCNEecYl7yGHGl4K2w08XNE2PHynsiylvwgxP_LeV46BiUf-IbHJu2Jm4v2nBjo598OkYU_2EB1dZjVGla369dwuDaWXgogjFA344aUvvoPUMH4nHYyx645jTEmcDGvLTSr8k0/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479458316042458738" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Keep this statue in mind, because it will come up in a later post. Bonus points for anyone who can spot it when it does.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWE8bPIE-kCVZb4AXFniIIQsQPHri-WUYE1mBltJm2epRqFJxN6TYKcUq9H7IgfREYzRb0C73aO7o9Lz4JJe3zUJ86wgV6c_Gb5ce8IRf1G_BEbv_uTmfTu7BZQNgrB71i_RbG2i49Kxc/s1600/Image00013.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWE8bPIE-kCVZb4AXFniIIQsQPHri-WUYE1mBltJm2epRqFJxN6TYKcUq9H7IgfREYzRb0C73aO7o9Lz4JJe3zUJ86wgV6c_Gb5ce8IRf1G_BEbv_uTmfTu7BZQNgrB71i_RbG2i49Kxc/s320/Image00013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479458326433825554" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpH0PotUGSowGybVd5LwRcBqb_l6lv-XPx59OVWjiQzgCvyFWj1bpBHIHT4eBqCh6HUH9_q_ydpKp1Ixq9zpVUt1SKxxnw7azNdjIrM31fSDNoPfHv3I9YbF3KmqFfobw-Ow6hdyaPZ0Y/s1600/Image00012.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpH0PotUGSowGybVd5LwRcBqb_l6lv-XPx59OVWjiQzgCvyFWj1bpBHIHT4eBqCh6HUH9_q_ydpKp1Ixq9zpVUt1SKxxnw7azNdjIrM31fSDNoPfHv3I9YbF3KmqFfobw-Ow6hdyaPZ0Y/s320/Image00012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479458322138591826" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Don't you wish your city had interesting architecture too?)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnxtSwD62fsAaTm7R6oFfoF0itHaZ9P_DkJ_Rr1YTLOeR4m113BGogsubIqBZlcq6q6kEg3xUOxBeJ8RcWdFAfOMvJmk9l-RojcuNtVyUgIgaXSRIjQn6fMSFv74x8FGssFvnWMK89x4/s1600/Image00015.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnxtSwD62fsAaTm7R6oFfoF0itHaZ9P_DkJ_Rr1YTLOeR4m113BGogsubIqBZlcq6q6kEg3xUOxBeJ8RcWdFAfOMvJmk9l-RojcuNtVyUgIgaXSRIjQn6fMSFv74x8FGssFvnWMK89x4/s320/Image00015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479458337255148178" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Near the entrance to Stanley Park. You can see the masts of the ships in the background in Coal Harbour.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb6lbFruJWLscEDApA2dCp4tcGMSsLeBjIy7TdF6YLo3rLh8drC8FG4l3zF38HoW7tvyUwyGpejL9nm4gipTtCjaX6UO6KiaaxGcdRnTRcDZ4_nbWzTGAbf4H9dLQh1TmCvASWkDufy9E/s1600/Image00016.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb6lbFruJWLscEDApA2dCp4tcGMSsLeBjIy7TdF6YLo3rLh8drC8FG4l3zF38HoW7tvyUwyGpejL9nm4gipTtCjaX6UO6KiaaxGcdRnTRcDZ4_nbWzTGAbf4H9dLQh1TmCvASWkDufy9E/s320/Image00016.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479458647626690114" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Boats in front of the Vancouver Rowing Club - Vancouver's oldest athletic club.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb6lbFruJWLscEDApA2dCp4tcGMSsLeBjIy7TdF6YLo3rLh8drC8FG4l3zF38HoW7tvyUwyGpejL9nm4gipTtCjaX6UO6KiaaxGcdRnTRcDZ4_nbWzTGAbf4H9dLQh1TmCvASWkDufy9E/s1600/Image00016.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBwC-Ll7V7HcDcCIYlUp45RbKZBEOyuNVS7SBL7WMXN8Jh4tlLUlp1biSj6Zd_S83zPTcmL2YQwbkh5b61XwpLpWwqjrgMynfUHKO1VTXZMnOv8db_XHO0zX_HPg37pDr4dUD6R2kJS3s/s1600/Image00018.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBwC-Ll7V7HcDcCIYlUp45RbKZBEOyuNVS7SBL7WMXN8Jh4tlLUlp1biSj6Zd_S83zPTcmL2YQwbkh5b61XwpLpWwqjrgMynfUHKO1VTXZMnOv8db_XHO0zX_HPg37pDr4dUD6R2kJS3s/s320/Image00018.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479458655780860834" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Looking out at downtown Vancouver across Coal Harbour, from Stanley Park.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKix9zeZKI_chYSH4nWbT-UW-8Catuvxhz1fA1QuRSWfbVFUIUOxTKe4XrWKX_wkvfyoM_DovJ-brJ6tYkbdt2H9Yvzf4WLVpJuVrSN0m4vbFm0D-ApC7ISpGfUZFCSCNd8QswAk_CvFc/s1600/Image00017.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKix9zeZKI_chYSH4nWbT-UW-8Catuvxhz1fA1QuRSWfbVFUIUOxTKe4XrWKX_wkvfyoM_DovJ-brJ6tYkbdt2H9Yvzf4WLVpJuVrSN0m4vbFm0D-ApC7ISpGfUZFCSCNd8QswAk_CvFc/s320/Image00017.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479458650502271938" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Spider tree, spider tree...)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiayUn_Rfo1kX0IcH9aFxgP-AyrnPTkkElEOlzrw98IIbmIp-jFxY2haClG9E_4xZdPWdKulhR2vT-LDZtah3-5M4pq4Em-eil8zx5NtvfGUWAEH6VEWrbCBLuel6ItoZqvSONArCi8koY/s1600/Image00028.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiayUn_Rfo1kX0IcH9aFxgP-AyrnPTkkElEOlzrw98IIbmIp-jFxY2haClG9E_4xZdPWdKulhR2vT-LDZtah3-5M4pq4Em-eil8zx5NtvfGUWAEH6VEWrbCBLuel6ItoZqvSONArCi8koY/s320/Image00028.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479459431788317250" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Giant cactus tree, giant cactus tree...)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzD7D6rTQorYoOch46ikDzHIuBDF7jdFXDwuXNVFZkcLKkXOwPDD7UF8hRVXoJHjck4EW_UTKMHLmJNp8FhX_wB7bj2guKggOInFIDXR3TlM7YXgKtR_9CzNyiIRaeFvP6ViftDRvTkz8/s1600/Image00027.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzD7D6rTQorYoOch46ikDzHIuBDF7jdFXDwuXNVFZkcLKkXOwPDD7UF8hRVXoJHjck4EW_UTKMHLmJNp8FhX_wB7bj2guKggOInFIDXR3TlM7YXgKtR_9CzNyiIRaeFvP6ViftDRvTkz8/s320/Image00027.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479459432493034242" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(I'm still not sure how this statue stays upright.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Once at the Aquarium I was excited to see the animals, but disappointed to find that today was yet another school holiday (I just had one last week in Montreal), so the Aquarium was filled with school children getting in my way and putting their greasy fingers on the windows. At least these children had some parental control, unlike the wild children in school groups. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWqwP4DDcKNfWsiHvQzlxtGytvcncOncRHRsUNTtAtkOIoi7gy1RUWA9FAPUrAY6qKWiZNvC1GH9OvFEqKPvDDRDU_czgRaM6K7NhuKwLNapqU1fuUJkGm8xeSBSyONhKKBpePW0H-JM/s1600/Image00020.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWqwP4DDcKNfWsiHvQzlxtGytvcncOncRHRsUNTtAtkOIoi7gy1RUWA9FAPUrAY6qKWiZNvC1GH9OvFEqKPvDDRDU_czgRaM6K7NhuKwLNapqU1fuUJkGm8xeSBSyONhKKBpePW0H-JM/s320/Image00020.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479459192645263570" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvL1oJ6wve6kvWeKcbjnXPE6cMsQFK8Uq0baGpP3J8QBSED6MzlwRxaniiQ1-MbaywbHUumVw6LSvvK8CfThRjZQKuMr9a5WDGnDvfgobtlRu8mrr-3Dbii5QOdyWLhjvfaImTtraGSE/s1600/Image00022.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDvL1oJ6wve6kvWeKcbjnXPE6cMsQFK8Uq0baGpP3J8QBSED6MzlwRxaniiQ1-MbaywbHUumVw6LSvvK8CfThRjZQKuMr9a5WDGnDvfgobtlRu8mrr-3Dbii5QOdyWLhjvfaImTtraGSE/s320/Image00022.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479459203429389042" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidzscZdmi0x9WYiM0KAyz1FZ22Ke-ckjwuqxgFCcgLPLQDnwf2euZETAMelaNk3WBXf-RFQFcj5SdsUmRH2N5PhAQx2aVKVpfHCJAgyLXvrjoYt1Snd2RZwwNM91YHuUjklagny3Y5h9Q/s1600/Image00024.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidzscZdmi0x9WYiM0KAyz1FZ22Ke-ckjwuqxgFCcgLPLQDnwf2euZETAMelaNk3WBXf-RFQFcj5SdsUmRH2N5PhAQx2aVKVpfHCJAgyLXvrjoYt1Snd2RZwwNM91YHuUjklagny3Y5h9Q/s320/Image00024.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479459211294903730" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakhVG0e-oYBr5L3Gy1drZ2obSXMqVQscMM35anjEL-coEs1nP4qnGxI8sguDjz4LpaCm55nl9SnLmhuBnq05wRVEPczMOfPsMZ-dk4n87nnzZsLmLkEGEWthvvqZ4zsUtXBEFJai2Npw/s1600/Image00023.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakhVG0e-oYBr5L3Gy1drZ2obSXMqVQscMM35anjEL-coEs1nP4qnGxI8sguDjz4LpaCm55nl9SnLmhuBnq05wRVEPczMOfPsMZ-dk4n87nnzZsLmLkEGEWthvvqZ4zsUtXBEFJai2Npw/s320/Image00023.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479459209449827410" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlDAAyhfsJ1VvGJBzPedO8-znmG5a_0VVLxOxxaccepzbgQN1lrGLYtqIhLNMCyp-QGL-Xv4MS7N46SMCpOITAjmzZPQyjjkEtD80s6eUvp42qtJ8ygKOmfkuwPLlGXpiZftGGv-a_Qg/s1600/Image00021.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlDAAyhfsJ1VvGJBzPedO8-znmG5a_0VVLxOxxaccepzbgQN1lrGLYtqIhLNMCyp-QGL-Xv4MS7N46SMCpOITAjmzZPQyjjkEtD80s6eUvp42qtJ8ygKOmfkuwPLlGXpiZftGGv-a_Qg/s320/Image00021.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479459195765138866" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(There aren't just marine animals at the Aquarium.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjStm65bdvd9jmFW_RGj1bm8kKErn3Uglor9RjEM0D3ih0urp408nju3eH1QV2tmFeyhrqcbVavbEaVABpSPBG_PkjB4G8j01lgsV2fJT2URZ-iXjgvaFfkk2AbL7QBCUhU8eA04Ihv1Bk/s1600/Image00026.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjStm65bdvd9jmFW_RGj1bm8kKErn3Uglor9RjEM0D3ih0urp408nju3eH1QV2tmFeyhrqcbVavbEaVABpSPBG_PkjB4G8j01lgsV2fJT2URZ-iXjgvaFfkk2AbL7QBCUhU8eA04Ihv1Bk/s320/Image00026.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479459427278558866" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Have you ever seen a Beluga spit?)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXyNuT9zWGKm0lIoRNw3JZtpeo7d7IMBbWt5ypbhg0uCQQvq0EDgQboq4hnYVjxdvuhmQg1wf4ksB6rag0Ta1rwEH7c_G5xYoL4ML0zoXXAlaTM-s_xf7rsKsq9YVfwhfgAybW3E0piyw/s1600/Image00019.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXyNuT9zWGKm0lIoRNw3JZtpeo7d7IMBbWt5ypbhg0uCQQvq0EDgQboq4hnYVjxdvuhmQg1wf4ksB6rag0Ta1rwEH7c_G5xYoL4ML0zoXXAlaTM-s_xf7rsKsq9YVfwhfgAybW3E0piyw/s320/Image00019.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479458661141800738" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Incredibly smart dolphins showing off for the crowd.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Built in 1956, the Vancouver Aquarium is home to over 70 000 animals, and even does its own on-site animal research studies. My favourite part though is the amazing "4-D" IMAX theatre.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today's film was a 3-D showing of Planet Earth's "Shallow Seas." It had been edited down to only 20 minutes in length, and cut out the epic Great White Shark hunt for the squeamish seal lovers. The fourth "D" though comes in when water from hidden jets sprays you in the face, or blasts of air "shock" the back of your legs. There were even rods that poke you in the back through your chair. Now, if only these theatres could figure out how to make the chairs move and shake a bit more....</div><div><br /></div><div>With Stanley Park and the Vancouver Aquarium out of the way, I went home to rest and plan what I would do tomorrow.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-60292074970245215122010-06-01T18:16:00.000-07:002010-06-02T23:23:56.053-07:00Toronto to Vancouver: 4 169 Kms, 4.5 Days<div>My train to Vancouver was scheduled to leave at 10:00 PM on the 27th of May, and for once I arrived early enough at the station to be at the front of the line. While waiting in line I met a German man briefly who was travelling to Winnipeg as part of his "lifelong dream to travel on The Canadian" (the train from Toronto to Vancouver). He told me that he was travelling from Halifax to Vancouver, Vancouver to San Francisco, San Francisco to Denver, then to Chicago and eventually all the way to New York, all on trains.</div><div><br /></div><div>At 10:00 PM, the attendant came to open the gate and let us on the train, but as I bent down to pick up my bags everyone passed me, and so my 45 minute wait in line was for naught. Fortunately, there were so few people in coach it was possible to take up four seats to myself, had I wished (one jerk took up six).</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-9A8vVINyRRa3aoCrTDckV4ByyjUQ0-XhWX5TgYViV-PT0td3jtkKoNDujIWU3F43-c8IyduICQW_7dSSvvL5kfmmZnqQpPAD4AlVIPqoNilx93QQaqXcHF5GYaUDrX8YVEsGwvb7DI/s1600/IMG_7047-1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-9A8vVINyRRa3aoCrTDckV4ByyjUQ0-XhWX5TgYViV-PT0td3jtkKoNDujIWU3F43-c8IyduICQW_7dSSvvL5kfmmZnqQpPAD4AlVIPqoNilx93QQaqXcHF5GYaUDrX8YVEsGwvb7DI/s320/IMG_7047-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478314066851946818" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Our shiny, probably not so new, lead engine.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpdbujKfccaUC5zn_iwMJL1-gSLk9nAMXxpYBdt2dK2RfGWaeEKTcBZGd-FkhXbfPf2SuEj-C3vEvJzfXMbRGKxMt3tMKGUqp_GYvAo7Bb8325R8bo2eaF2tROr0Vixnvuwi9NkHZ7QA/s1600/IMG_7054-1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpdbujKfccaUC5zn_iwMJL1-gSLk9nAMXxpYBdt2dK2RfGWaeEKTcBZGd-FkhXbfPf2SuEj-C3vEvJzfXMbRGKxMt3tMKGUqp_GYvAo7Bb8325R8bo2eaF2tROr0Vixnvuwi9NkHZ7QA/s320/IMG_7054-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478319518504889314" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(After taking the picture of the engine above, literally every other person on the train decided to walk up and take a picture as well.)</div><div><br /></div><div>While lunches on The Ocean were rather expensive, on The Canadian the cost is surprisingly reasonable. For $12 I was given my main course of salmon/salad/bread, etc., plus a bowl of soup for an appetizer, a pot of tea, and a large slice of butter tart cake for dessert. I was genuinely stuffed after eating it all, and even while writing this I can't help but think VIA Rail is just waiting to charge my credit card with a secret fee after its accountants figure out that I hadn't been gouged enough.</div><div><br /></div><div>At one of the lunches I brought up the topic of what makes Canadians unique. I explained that out uniqueness is how much we say "sorry." When I travel the world most people are polite, but in my experience Canadians say sorry more often than any other nation's people. </div><div><br /></div><div>This became incredibly obvious when I was in Toronto, and I had to push myself to the back of a cramped, crowded street car in rush hour. As I knocked everyone out of the way with my large bag, I tried to say sorry, but before I could get the word out of my mouth everyone had already apologized to me first for hitting my bag.</div><div><br /></div><div>The waiter for our table overheard me telling this story and added that one time she was walking in a store, and when she turned she bumped a box with her bag. She turned around and said "sorry" to the box like a good Canadian, and the woman behind her (also a Canadian) started laughing and told her "that just made my day; I did the same thing before."</div><div><br /></div><div>We pulled into Winnipeg at 7:30 AM on the 29th (half an hour ahead of schedule), but the train had to be cleaned, and the crew changed, so I had four and a half hours to kill before the 12:00 PM scheduled departure. Unlike other passengers who sat in coffee shops for four hours, I knew exactly where I needed to go.</div><div><br /></div><div>It just so happens that in Winnipeg I was a young man, although not really down on my dough due to my excellent budgeting. I had also heard that as a young man there was a place where I could go, and that if I went there I was was sure to find many ways to have a good time. So, I asked the first homeless person I met to direct me to the nearest YMCA, and once there I had an excellent workout and a refreshing shower afterwards.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhgJxAi8-EX1b8Uh943kKGUrf3Ge5bawAT68jq_q2bre7VwyEK1GMugifHVuWIaJ_oYuuUgtsrBlAAb-AG5BU1ueKTtAyHkaDkegqmSnGsFbW5BduobojyYRWB69iBn0-Ov2ET-CoRxE/s1600/IMG_7059-1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhgJxAi8-EX1b8Uh943kKGUrf3Ge5bawAT68jq_q2bre7VwyEK1GMugifHVuWIaJ_oYuuUgtsrBlAAb-AG5BU1ueKTtAyHkaDkegqmSnGsFbW5BduobojyYRWB69iBn0-Ov2ET-CoRxE/s320/IMG_7059-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478319527046535890" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The Nutty Club building in Winnipeg, Manitoba.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Back on the train, with a new crew and some different passengers, I was asked by one of the train attendants if I would be willing to learn how to operate the train door in case of an emergency evacuation. Since the joy of responsibility comes with the burden of obligation, I agreed to be certified, and in exchange I had an extra orange piece of paper hung over my seat in recognition of my new VIP status.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtpA2qXR-bLHn0aLPhquUP6bL8xU7UCeKBalyZsGm3VE99VloepRLY6eHn0UhV6a6xyf0B8ot9xZYVlNFNMvaQyW1PcpHYsl39P5jp3118YMmvkV9dL_RO-B-DIpRddAyW1R4Qv4iyKA/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtpA2qXR-bLHn0aLPhquUP6bL8xU7UCeKBalyZsGm3VE99VloepRLY6eHn0UhV6a6xyf0B8ot9xZYVlNFNMvaQyW1PcpHYsl39P5jp3118YMmvkV9dL_RO-B-DIpRddAyW1R4Qv4iyKA/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478314060620615586" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBs5PBCxVVHNpCv9DUMh7nc7L1Sfn8_yCNjIPsWKPUxO1_tuYEpBqsOk4TBU2IJfpa1ZkyzQqaS_J37m1OLIj2DLlH00gQ3Jew56GvOs_6k-FajO193onmkY_QhIEApjwGaK4bwCurtCo/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBs5PBCxVVHNpCv9DUMh7nc7L1Sfn8_yCNjIPsWKPUxO1_tuYEpBqsOk4TBU2IJfpa1ZkyzQqaS_J37m1OLIj2DLlH00gQ3Jew56GvOs_6k-FajO193onmkY_QhIEApjwGaK4bwCurtCo/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478314048545092274" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYgNR02vgYRnnhhbzRG8Sjmrm-K9xb1QDi5LwdNHt0Ze1WB6caVdI8cNPZPYSxH21xb3hwhZRU_RrbQ0Mb0aX9oUKt5DBMbneeeYDgFb4qsfaNxZGaOewNl63wlpmZcke_UxX_M3GJKTE/s1600/Image00015.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYgNR02vgYRnnhhbzRG8Sjmrm-K9xb1QDi5LwdNHt0Ze1WB6caVdI8cNPZPYSxH21xb3hwhZRU_RrbQ0Mb0aX9oUKt5DBMbneeeYDgFb4qsfaNxZGaOewNl63wlpmZcke_UxX_M3GJKTE/s320/Image00015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478321376197107090" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Some artefacts from a "vintage car" heap in Melville, Saskatchewan.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Up until reaching Saskatoon, the weather had been lovely, save for a brief rain storm in Winnipeg. I went to sleep shortly after leaving Saskatoon, and when I woke up in Alberta I found snow everywhere. Since the snow disappeared as we entered the lovely Jasper National Park (which is run by the Federal Government, and is therefore not really a part of Alberta), I found this a fitting metaphor for why I am leaving Alberta in the first place.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxnOeUnAMrVscxvUL2PMbZDeWQI-8tM_WQtqCG-n9O08W3i6zWcKser2EK9-hLRnxQBplQoA73yOGYaenmmA7vFnItO0e_Q_TDN9anpqrGWPEEdb70Rkfy7WRC46I_Q3FWnvMiuoxZvq4/s1600/IMG_6998-1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxnOeUnAMrVscxvUL2PMbZDeWQI-8tM_WQtqCG-n9O08W3i6zWcKser2EK9-hLRnxQBplQoA73yOGYaenmmA7vFnItO0e_Q_TDN9anpqrGWPEEdb70Rkfy7WRC46I_Q3FWnvMiuoxZvq4/s320/IMG_6998-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478314040698204946" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(A beautiful sight: Dodge Sprinter vans coming to save Albertans from the tyranny of the pick-up truck.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXhhGMfCUp4W7oPEx0KCYqUYPPiSduCj4CsXBQs4oYhN9RaG0cD-tiVt4RzPwlprl7V7fQF1bxSczZ-SKQExxKnJjK_2y-0kC6zmBGW2hVfGuY4lpdT_Woyf67gctas5dUw_fDNliOyE/s1600/Image00021.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXhhGMfCUp4W7oPEx0KCYqUYPPiSduCj4CsXBQs4oYhN9RaG0cD-tiVt4RzPwlprl7V7fQF1bxSczZ-SKQExxKnJjK_2y-0kC6zmBGW2hVfGuY4lpdT_Woyf67gctas5dUw_fDNliOyE/s320/Image00021.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478322264683246370" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6gVAETb35_wQpM_4exRyEITvGycrRbY3IdDJzSnZuMUbN-deBc55yl1dW3apzFjk2o5Pjql1_AuzK4H-1rkvWgPaxoyaFcRP0BZ0gXI5eQOvR5k9Yo7lUogOIx9eAaEoYgi11i_N9eA/s1600/Image00020.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6gVAETb35_wQpM_4exRyEITvGycrRbY3IdDJzSnZuMUbN-deBc55yl1dW3apzFjk2o5Pjql1_AuzK4H-1rkvWgPaxoyaFcRP0BZ0gXI5eQOvR5k9Yo7lUogOIx9eAaEoYgi11i_N9eA/s320/Image00020.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478322261715892402" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNXX-hPUkbiKmJMcGiQfnrcQsbSQmxrpcNOISwcuCDbvJcat511vPvleoFu9usZ-G2fBzFjUOVRGf5Bqy_B4iL12TlaiPCtRKKKioIy27gcwMktIIxk94jHe8GwPS3AbCMF8xigrwEdTI/s1600/Image00019.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNXX-hPUkbiKmJMcGiQfnrcQsbSQmxrpcNOISwcuCDbvJcat511vPvleoFu9usZ-G2fBzFjUOVRGf5Bqy_B4iL12TlaiPCtRKKKioIy27gcwMktIIxk94jHe8GwPS3AbCMF8xigrwEdTI/s320/Image00019.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478321409989130514" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6SKUYFyuZvHTldivIapneK9fkWbOduBrIsRqYOE1wdRT4x_6Yjy1nPl4mBavhK3Biv8f0MP4KV3dEBBPSHhPvMi5i-T1hOtWVziCcj965oNG7Eu4BskENbPbfLvs9Sf3Y3ojzTr6AwMM/s1600/Image00017.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6SKUYFyuZvHTldivIapneK9fkWbOduBrIsRqYOE1wdRT4x_6Yjy1nPl4mBavhK3Biv8f0MP4KV3dEBBPSHhPvMi5i-T1hOtWVziCcj965oNG7Eu4BskENbPbfLvs9Sf3Y3ojzTr6AwMM/s320/Image00017.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478321396284118610" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRj-RkTAv-JkGA8BdSRWePSlKRqhkQ8dC3leCJHlbAqAGp3eoZ-Xf9tOinN4FvOTMv7FC_x5XFJTMm_zszeXW3P0MoNUwMySDM3GvJ-2rZEupfb8iE0W74dUcYoBV4vgL2vjFzvmTv9SM/s1600/Image00014.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRj-RkTAv-JkGA8BdSRWePSlKRqhkQ8dC3leCJHlbAqAGp3eoZ-Xf9tOinN4FvOTMv7FC_x5XFJTMm_zszeXW3P0MoNUwMySDM3GvJ-2rZEupfb8iE0W74dUcYoBV4vgL2vjFzvmTv9SM/s320/Image00014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478320938221996914" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3w6aC27wCsr9Ti4gXs7XjfMRwaDBDasM_ENEAMN9dEsC0YTE3Aea3oK5kpMtGhyphenhyphenzsYUHzZEjym1eW80LEV2aDlIdsWYMpd58l2Si1R-gaWsprIUFwn2maCGgNvnPauLmIF6DhWeX7Jbs/s1600/Image00018.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3w6aC27wCsr9Ti4gXs7XjfMRwaDBDasM_ENEAMN9dEsC0YTE3Aea3oK5kpMtGhyphenhyphenzsYUHzZEjym1eW80LEV2aDlIdsWYMpd58l2Si1R-gaWsprIUFwn2maCGgNvnPauLmIF6DhWeX7Jbs/s320/Image00018.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478321404745591826" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(More beautiful sights.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually I went back to sleep after crossing into Mt. Robson Provincial Park (the BC version of Jasper National Park), and slept through most of BC. When I woke up I was only two hours away from Vancouver. I made it! Four nights on a train - 데이빗 strong man.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4UK5_t_0V0AEg50wHdLCR4b9sW2j3KlTAQLsN5eSxf635-2_8O7Wt0wQOTydflVkveoljYaUyq2ahp41HYNu-8RyDmktwuvmFAtzzIuoaX7daPBM-ugZB7gPe5AvUDrkwqpLUb-ZEQhQ/s1600/IMG_7093-1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4UK5_t_0V0AEg50wHdLCR4b9sW2j3KlTAQLsN5eSxf635-2_8O7Wt0wQOTydflVkveoljYaUyq2ahp41HYNu-8RyDmktwuvmFAtzzIuoaX7daPBM-ugZB7gPe5AvUDrkwqpLUb-ZEQhQ/s320/IMG_7093-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478319529674731266" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Bonus Question: In which province was this picture taken? Write your answer in the comments section.)</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-3862257441219447282010-05-31T16:57:00.000-07:002010-05-31T23:42:06.187-07:00In Toronto, Again<div>Because of scheduling conflicts with VIA Rail, it is impossible to take a train straight from Halifax to Vancouver (or back for that matter). Rather, all travelers must spend one night in Toronto and catch the next "Canadian" train to Vancouver the next evening.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzy2V2H1uuIi_WY-4SiebwTTS0WCaxWiidEcKJQyOTHyNKnFevnL6kJjeO2B7JsZUnKhlZI8BtrktYsf_QdZQYPHofOMlf5b-Ta8UTjDXLBMKEU7phyphenhyphenPti2ZtJMj6rK7cqRFUhI8nxJfs/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzy2V2H1uuIi_WY-4SiebwTTS0WCaxWiidEcKJQyOTHyNKnFevnL6kJjeO2B7JsZUnKhlZI8BtrktYsf_QdZQYPHofOMlf5b-Ta8UTjDXLBMKEU7phyphenhyphenPti2ZtJMj6rK7cqRFUhI8nxJfs/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477682992108167618" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(View of Toronto from the train, on the way in to town. That's the steeple on St. James' Cathedral to the left of the crane, and St. Lawrence Market is building that looks like a barn to the right of the crane.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Before leaving Halifax I had wanted to wash half of my clothes, but I got in too late the night before to use the machines, and hostels typically monopolize the washers and dryers until late afternoon to clean all the sheets for the beds. In Montreal I had noticed that I only had enough detergent left for one load, and that if I had washed my clothes then, I would have ran out of clean ones before leaving Vancouver. However, through pure luck, I had randomly added just enough clean clothes to my travelling wardrobe to make it back to Halifax in a relative state of freshness... if I waited until Toronto to wash all of my clothes once I had worn them once, that is.</div><div><br /></div><div>In Toronto I literally took off everything I could, even using my fleece coat in lieu of a shirt, and stuffed everything into one load in an old Maytag washer. I was worried I would break it, but my clothes came out fine. However, in perhaps the only downside of the Canadiana Backpacker's Inn, in Toronto, for all 4 buildings, and probably more than 100 rooms, there are only two washers and two dryers, and one of those was broken during my stay. </div><div><br /></div><div>This meant that it took three hours to wash and partially dry (I overloaded the dryer too) one load of clothes. Regardless, I had completed my single-minded goal for this first night, and so turned my attention to my new goal: trying to survive the horrendous heat and humidity inside the hostel bedrooms (HI hostels may lack character, but at least they don't lack good air conditioning.)</div><div><br /></div><div>The next day at 10:30 AM, after the free all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast, I had to check out of my room. I was wondering what I would do with my bags while I waited for my 10:00 PM train, but the hostel was kind of enough to store my bags for free, and to let me bum around in the hostel all day.</div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't spend too long inside that afternoon though, because I had to find my way back to Kensington Market to try and pick up some organic snacks for the four day journey to Vancouver (or at least to get me the day and a half to Winnipeg).</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7EcwK_aAMXG-nFVduaYhelKju0EHBrFhcgmvdEF2ZdKwlCfabQWBS4s22QvjATCefQLXKbtlsOgiowk1bZtselstETyAavbRwgpaRLx-4EOuwQ_DSCAQdTtMuetmmHhMj4gKEo7pR1tM/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7EcwK_aAMXG-nFVduaYhelKju0EHBrFhcgmvdEF2ZdKwlCfabQWBS4s22QvjATCefQLXKbtlsOgiowk1bZtselstETyAavbRwgpaRLx-4EOuwQ_DSCAQdTtMuetmmHhMj4gKEo7pR1tM/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477682997331811938" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(A bustling Richmond Avenue, in down town Toronto.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I succeeded in finding some excellent 7-grain crackers, and organic granola bars, as well as picking up another bottle of cool and refreshing Ting to help fight the blazing hot sun. I couldn't find any organically grown fruit though, so on the way back I picked up a bag of nectarines from a market in China Town.</div><div><br /></div><div>Over lunch I had stopped in at a Korean restaurant in Kensington Market that was selling the most expensive bottles of imported Korean soju I've ever seen (see pic below). I had noticed that all the meat I had been eating over the course of the trip had not been doing my body composition any favours, and with four days of sitting on a train ahead of me, I thought I'd best order something vegetarian. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGMj1ia5ORoLVjbVUddBlUqEKEoC_TnbkSKRC624VanMgP7l7Rj6VCitVcexwqH8uaxQGheHiVQpwJBWcyHCdMnGljRbqEAI-bwjV0qNwEzsLN-F-osJUDXHQw14iz42ahnGfs4v2Vh8U/s1600/IMG_6987-1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGMj1ia5ORoLVjbVUddBlUqEKEoC_TnbkSKRC624VanMgP7l7Rj6VCitVcexwqH8uaxQGheHiVQpwJBWcyHCdMnGljRbqEAI-bwjV0qNwEzsLN-F-osJUDXHQw14iz42ahnGfs4v2Vh8U/s320/IMG_6987-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477690246377322434" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>While my kalguksu was delicious, if not entirely authentic (I don't remember round carrot slices in my bowls in Korea), I unfortunately left my tourist map at the restaurant. By the time I noticed that my map was gone though, it was too late and I was lost and couldn't remember where my hostel was.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I stumbled around in the heat of the afternoon sun, I was stopped by another tourist who needed directions. By this point I had more or less developed a rudimentary grasp of the lay-out of the streets in the Toronto core, so I was more than willing to give him the help I had received upon first arriving to Toronto. As I looked up to show him the way though, I noticed, standing there on the corner of Richmond and John St as if it were waiting for me to come across the country to find it, Canada's greatest treasure - the National Film Board (NFB) of Canada's Media Theque.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqj9XWFzDuvK8ulZ1ZD3xDp_OUXFdcjlVEZ1nrVheFpSWg2e8BTwxOYBG-L5tkrKmYoxa6JowylQBeZlN5mn8q8-xsI27PoNEOdLDE5Fhentqv1sUwkledCFyZG8JAbLnq3Lc6HDY9wM/s1600/IMG_6992-1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqj9XWFzDuvK8ulZ1ZD3xDp_OUXFdcjlVEZ1nrVheFpSWg2e8BTwxOYBG-L5tkrKmYoxa6JowylQBeZlN5mn8q8-xsI27PoNEOdLDE5Fhentqv1sUwkledCFyZG8JAbLnq3Lc6HDY9wM/s320/IMG_6992-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477690258490431922" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The Media Theque is essentially the physical version of the NFB's online free media collection, but with way more titles. There are over 5 500 titles from which to choose, all of which are viewable every day, for free, on personal mini-theatre viewing stations. The system is similar to the in-flight personal entertainment systems you may have seen on modern aeroplanes, but without having to wait ten minutes for the advertisements to finish before being able to view another film film. You can also buy physical copies of these, and any other NFB produced movies, from the Media Theque. On top of all that, there is a theatre which shows advanced screenings of unreleased NFB films every day. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Media Theque is air conditioned, and open until 10 PM most days, so I was able to escape today's heat by watching a french language, subtitled film called The Fight for True Farming. The film is about the struggle faced by Canadian independent farmers as they try to battle their own seemingly inept (or corrupt) government and the Monsanto corporation and other huge multi-nationals, in order to maintain their right to farm organically and sustainably. </div><div><br /></div><div> Apart from being wonderfully made, The Fight For True Farming was a frightening look at how dangerous our food really is (Monsanto's own tests show that its products cause cancer), and how the Canadian government often ignores the advice of the Canadian Food Inspection Agency when allowing products from American agricultural corporations to be sold/tested inside Canada.</div><div><br /></div><div>After finishing The Fight for True Farming, I selected another great documentary by a Canadian author and artist, Douglas Coupland, called A Souvenir of Canada. In A Souvenir of Canada, Coupland attempts to create a house, as an art exhibit, that captures what it truly means to be Canadian. The house in question was distinctly Canadian itself, since it was one of the tens of thousands of identically made 1950s Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC) houses made after World War II for the returning veterans. </div><div><br /></div><div>In his quest to find things that are distinctly Canadian, Coupland tries to first discover what it actually means to be Canadian. I thought it a fitting way to spend an afternoon in Toronto (perhaps the most Canadian city in Canada) as this whole cross-Canada adventure I am on, was a response to my own desire to discover Canada, and what it means to be Canadian.</div><div><br /></div><div>After watching a third documentary, I found directions back to my hostel which was actually only a block away. I had a "last supper" before being confined to the train, and tried to freshen up as best as possible.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqC6psI-QIocwbERW15dkxJ_VEukKKlmGMSLd-Qb8nf-65WSfqt9iwXryi-vAAbf5nli0DLraCXCgMOTohw-pMX-YWGaPVhPU8puFxQUQiaXn8Eh1z7gNCNHcItR5ED-KlwpswKwPePY/s1600/IMG_6989-1.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqC6psI-QIocwbERW15dkxJ_VEukKKlmGMSLd-Qb8nf-65WSfqt9iwXryi-vAAbf5nli0DLraCXCgMOTohw-pMX-YWGaPVhPU8puFxQUQiaXn8Eh1z7gNCNHcItR5ED-KlwpswKwPePY/s320/IMG_6989-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477690254490542882" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The outside of the Much Music/CTV building.)</div><div><br /></div><div>On the way to the train station I walked through the background as a Much Music VJ did some report outside the Much Music building. This was actually the second time I had inadvertently found my way on TV, as earlier in the day I walked through a report for a Naked News broadcast, while a topless reporter interviewed a random woman about her thoughts on Tiger Woods. </div><div><br /></div><div>While I waited behind the camera man for the light to change so that I could cross Spadina Ave, I was impressed with the reporter's courage and concentration. Not only did she have to stand there at a busy intersection literally half naked, but she had to be professional about it despite all the oglers, cat callers, and amateur paparazzi with their cell phone cameras. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can report happily that she made it through her segment without making any mistake or showing any sign of being phased, and I dare say she even sounded better than most professional TV news reporters while doing so.</div><div><br /></div><div>While I was standing at the light I also over heard two young women say "if you got it, flaunt it", in reference to the reporter. I got mad at them and said, "she's not 'flaunting' anything, she's doing her job. All you girls in your short shorts and tank tops are the ones trying to 'flaunt it.'" After this I felt much better.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-57012121747050613892010-05-27T07:31:00.000-07:002010-05-27T10:38:08.999-07:00Montreal: Day 2Montreal has a collection of four massive "museums" that are world famous. Three of these - The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Biodome</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Insectarium</span>, and Botanical Gardens - are all located in Olympic Park around the Olympic Stadium from the 1976 Summer Olympics. Exploring these museums was my goal for today.<div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikWEdKTXJfnwinOR194dN6SwkpjvwGFmmBVHhFVzIpP79cPrTPJF8qXmns164Vz19YW9YhtddIHosOZtv-OAyaHbIDJcESNcAXxmCs8t7-JYcgjbsVhU8JAFmVyU2uxh7qq88meFjeP4/s1600/Image00049.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhikWEdKTXJfnwinOR194dN6SwkpjvwGFmmBVHhFVzIpP79cPrTPJF8qXmns164Vz19YW9YhtddIHosOZtv-OAyaHbIDJcESNcAXxmCs8t7-JYcgjbsVhU8JAFmVyU2uxh7qq88meFjeP4/s320/Image00049.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475981615825361042" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3ZfohF7992VyvsVFixPuWHqsd6tabKVMLb34yogLbfvlQ6Es7uLgpqN3n5B5VplyiY21Ke1a0d71ua3l9QFgvJALM5klbI4UJApGo35UQAgQmmv1ftoiHJ9DBwZnMbnoF3J6_G5bH_I/s1600/Image00050.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3ZfohF7992VyvsVFixPuWHqsd6tabKVMLb34yogLbfvlQ6Es7uLgpqN3n5B5VplyiY21Ke1a0d71ua3l9QFgvJALM5klbI4UJApGo35UQAgQmmv1ftoiHJ9DBwZnMbnoF3J6_G5bH_I/s320/Image00050.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475981899802465186" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>Typically I sleep in and check my e-mails, etc. in the morning, but not today. In order to give myself the best chance to explore all three of the aforementioned Olympic Park attractions in the one afternoon available to me, I was on the subway by 9:10 AM, and at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Biodome</span> by 9:30.</div><div><br /></div><div>The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Biodome</span> contains four examples of different habitats: a tropical <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">rain forest</span>, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Laurentian</span> forest of Quebec, the Arctic/Antarctic poles, and the St. Lawrence River marine ecosystem. </div><div><br /></div><div>By far the largest of the four <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Biodome</span> habitats is the tropical forest. Measuring 2.6 square <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">kms</span>, the habitat has a sticky 70% humidity which was hard to take, but this merely corresponds to the driest time of the year in an actual rain forest. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cTTob9YcPO3uTaUqzmo71qeTcTqHSs98de0rEdgW_bOExeyyrBChXSvN8h0xBZLX-5ap5_XGqpkXa6zk4DmZXxXFIlRZ7pcvNphecZ0VnFuM1aQ3wpJj60Btv9zoHu51SprAPNs7NGM/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cTTob9YcPO3uTaUqzmo71qeTcTqHSs98de0rEdgW_bOExeyyrBChXSvN8h0xBZLX-5ap5_XGqpkXa6zk4DmZXxXFIlRZ7pcvNphecZ0VnFuM1aQ3wpJj60Btv9zoHu51SprAPNs7NGM/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475962626943369618" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> </div><div><br /></div><div>(The dreaded poison arrow frog. So poisonous, it does not fear being eaten, but rather sits out in the open, croaking loudly to warn would be attackers to stay clear.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfq7PhaTtyz1xJSn_cK6qR3Nue11lphsnxu7Yqp-YLtygYnUXwknC4mO3Ju-zJoND-7xDVrzK7b82xNZJex7Z8Xr11ldCnLNujsrhT-Px2sm_GbNisOUAkvlMdKvgxoDs4CbOcTZERTno/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfq7PhaTtyz1xJSn_cK6qR3Nue11lphsnxu7Yqp-YLtygYnUXwknC4mO3Ju-zJoND-7xDVrzK7b82xNZJex7Z8Xr11ldCnLNujsrhT-Px2sm_GbNisOUAkvlMdKvgxoDs4CbOcTZERTno/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475962616437772962" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVsjRLuxwI4wb-XKd2UXmHQpDzLjZOFjvk6J__USH2_qVPwlt3OXJVqZ6NxggSG6VKaSwskeuURYfI7J9_ORiuVW2IL7YiEzNvf2KQGi0Oer2yGv3wtqXQgxLk2ic2-FXvQ-RGnzQMzc/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVsjRLuxwI4wb-XKd2UXmHQpDzLjZOFjvk6J__USH2_qVPwlt3OXJVqZ6NxggSG6VKaSwskeuURYfI7J9_ORiuVW2IL7YiEzNvf2KQGi0Oer2yGv3wtqXQgxLk2ic2-FXvQ-RGnzQMzc/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475962612893323458" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The next habitat was the pleasantly cool and relatively arid <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Laurentian</span> Forest climate. 1.5 square <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">kms</span> in size, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Biodome's</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Laurentian</span> habitat contains a collection of both coniferous and deciduous trees, just like the real <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Laurentian</span>. With its 23 degree centigrade temperature in summer, it also feels like walking off a hot street into an air conditioned store, compared to the 28 degree tropical forest habitat and the dangerously warm 35 degree Montreal weather outside.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Y8RLnh7tj1U3ZAuGt8UG1zxojIbL1IC8Zi0h89U59b4T0K5Koxduz5BbzTQJFMMbW9nfNFXtDm1FLfG8bAQs6-2DHWZbP8IHY5jdyn5MT_sbDNYY9Mfr88BroUAuZnGrW1Ty9UN6vE8/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Y8RLnh7tj1U3ZAuGt8UG1zxojIbL1IC8Zi0h89U59b4T0K5Koxduz5BbzTQJFMMbW9nfNFXtDm1FLfG8bAQs6-2DHWZbP8IHY5jdyn5MT_sbDNYY9Mfr88BroUAuZnGrW1Ty9UN6vE8/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475962640453825650" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh298bS7XAwjG-EkEJK1pMC4R9lCl13FxBdkM7-Sfi1KfHGWPdO0phm_z5cb9GCJrZYvqMw9KNcbwk04cHWrz0lobckQRx-I7KCs9TeLmRbks-Fxl72vNIv_1osVOo6VaCJNsDtSurjP7A/s1600/Image00005.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh298bS7XAwjG-EkEJK1pMC4R9lCl13FxBdkM7-Sfi1KfHGWPdO0phm_z5cb9GCJrZYvqMw9KNcbwk04cHWrz0lobckQRx-I7KCs9TeLmRbks-Fxl72vNIv_1osVOo6VaCJNsDtSurjP7A/s320/Image00005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475962646571121074" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(How many Canadian lynx are watching you?)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Hint: Look in the top left hand corner.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9KQfyKw9kV_z0sHV2BZj2sAGdc5IefRlpjxv8YyDhgxESaNB9lfXo2LsYC418rADzGJHRGO5m0HmnrdjsFz30rwFNFUHN0XmVVmroVW1BE62aA5CsLDCf8R4kEkvdsbD9RUFLGkGSojk/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9KQfyKw9kV_z0sHV2BZj2sAGdc5IefRlpjxv8YyDhgxESaNB9lfXo2LsYC418rADzGJHRGO5m0HmnrdjsFz30rwFNFUHN0XmVVmroVW1BE62aA5CsLDCf8R4kEkvdsbD9RUFLGkGSojk/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475963002589368482" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9KQfyKw9kV_z0sHV2BZj2sAGdc5IefRlpjxv8YyDhgxESaNB9lfXo2LsYC418rADzGJHRGO5m0HmnrdjsFz30rwFNFUHN0XmVVmroVW1BE62aA5CsLDCf8R4kEkvdsbD9RUFLGkGSojk/s1600/Image00006.jpg"></a>(Can you see them now?)<br /><br /></div><div>I wish I could say I had my socks knocked off by the Arctic and St. Lawrence Marine habitats, but compared to the first two forests they kind of paled in comparison. I might also be desensitized to aquariums after spending so long in the massive, first rate aquariums of South Korea, with numerous species of sharks and rays that even swim over your head as you walk through glass tunnels under the aquarium.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLftBUtzlqOftXyyHUUAWf6LBH_hOlYBopGabKHY5ZyasrQHd7axIvhJKFaOYGErXxRsFwbU8pbJwZ8fGVg48_6xE70LSTgQZSBN9BrdxSrTY4BKJCAyt6F3wTcYYnfP1wsb2DKU8ySGU/s1600/Image00011.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrZqJPuUVbLmurA97qLeXB78yMmpMIE62KvC9fmaD_9sKS3RvBsGhImxMY8NadFBwvlFWRAbPgYTKQdjual3unTT-EQ8tlG3nsOflr4e_yhi-qFMLZVm03Gsai6C3sSafwnfhCpLwf5c/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrZqJPuUVbLmurA97qLeXB78yMmpMIE62KvC9fmaD_9sKS3RvBsGhImxMY8NadFBwvlFWRAbPgYTKQdjual3unTT-EQ8tlG3nsOflr4e_yhi-qFMLZVm03Gsai6C3sSafwnfhCpLwf5c/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475963004789703794" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfspjB60fo8U9AMmtwKWrl_wjdciP-1rvP4CBpqPOhyphenhyphenk35g-ZyvrOqQLRnL-k7PsesbgSGY24NKjrpokrSNlWoxT82ucRonLls6WDd_gpvXlcGrhZ7VZtKWhjFzq_zgCiIF34fW7HzYU4/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfspjB60fo8U9AMmtwKWrl_wjdciP-1rvP4CBpqPOhyphenhyphenk35g-ZyvrOqQLRnL-k7PsesbgSGY24NKjrpokrSNlWoxT82ucRonLls6WDd_gpvXlcGrhZ7VZtKWhjFzq_zgCiIF34fW7HzYU4/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475963013702165474" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4i6TQK2DG3WSjcBTrexNSU7GxqvM7Kn6H-O9NAjlecrrpbGZieYcDcTVwMz5LHl033bofWSX8fuPKEBcrnXtipEFDXjn1fAbDRyJEAgennZbvKSUrC5J8crDpLWzYYfT6VS3hC-HRkk/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb4i6TQK2DG3WSjcBTrexNSU7GxqvM7Kn6H-O9NAjlecrrpbGZieYcDcTVwMz5LHl033bofWSX8fuPKEBcrnXtipEFDXjn1fAbDRyJEAgennZbvKSUrC5J8crDpLWzYYfT6VS3hC-HRkk/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475963012016049698" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGCuzTzSpxPHUFiMXzE_WCHiw267H7-gNpXOcVUB1qdZb4UHYaxFt1zWZum9o2Y8W3DUGA-rX47pTPQe3dynh1SkW8JEPX1tZgfsGS2jqOsPyC5UZr_FDDfwYj5m5mAWy8qfno6C2hjI/s1600/IMG_6784.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZGCuzTzSpxPHUFiMXzE_WCHiw267H7-gNpXOcVUB1qdZb4UHYaxFt1zWZum9o2Y8W3DUGA-rX47pTPQe3dynh1SkW8JEPX1tZgfsGS2jqOsPyC5UZr_FDDfwYj5m5mAWy8qfno6C2hjI/s320/IMG_6784.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475986950720741874" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Challenge: There are four ducks in this picture. See if you can find three of them. Hint: two of the ducks are on the right sight of the picture near the wood pile.)</div><div><br /></div><div>That said, the basin in which some of the sharks swam around contained 2.5 million Litres of sea water, and because of the net over top, the birds were free to fly around over my head. This added some excitement and novelty, making this a more "realistic" aquarium experience.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLftBUtzlqOftXyyHUUAWf6LBH_hOlYBopGabKHY5ZyasrQHd7axIvhJKFaOYGErXxRsFwbU8pbJwZ8fGVg48_6xE70LSTgQZSBN9BrdxSrTY4BKJCAyt6F3wTcYYnfP1wsb2DKU8ySGU/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLftBUtzlqOftXyyHUUAWf6LBH_hOlYBopGabKHY5ZyasrQHd7axIvhJKFaOYGErXxRsFwbU8pbJwZ8fGVg48_6xE70LSTgQZSBN9BrdxSrTY4BKJCAyt6F3wTcYYnfP1wsb2DKU8ySGU/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475967146642858578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(This is less than half of the tank.)</div><div><br /></div><div>The Polar exhibits were pretty lame, it must be said. There were just a just a bunch of penguins in two large cases. I've seen penguins in every aquarium in the world, and I'm sorry but they just are not that exciting any more.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7iJPkl2FZCqTFlXsl34eKfUucLj-g1n1DHMyx2DAIY-kxROgOREz99q1NmEToEXKojJiExAoSVyLmDpF49mYUmMVZGunX_KMFetGfkQrCGC-WBg6lSF2zLDAsw6CL02TUSRJN-nWKyzA/s1600/Image00013.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7iJPkl2FZCqTFlXsl34eKfUucLj-g1n1DHMyx2DAIY-kxROgOREz99q1NmEToEXKojJiExAoSVyLmDpF49mYUmMVZGunX_KMFetGfkQrCGC-WBg6lSF2zLDAsw6CL02TUSRJN-nWKyzA/s320/Image00013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475967159477215042" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(These aren't slippers, they're Royal Penguins - I think - tucking the babies on their backs under their wings.)</div><div><br /></div><div>After finishing with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Biodome</span> I took a short, but difficult walk in the stifling heat and humidity to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Insectarium</span>. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Insectarium</span>, opened in 1990, was the brainchild of former notary Georges <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Brassard</span> who wanted to teach the world that insects are not "bugs," but a diverse, important part of our world, with unique traits and roles to play. To accomplish this, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Brassard</span> put together a massive collection of living insects, arachnids, etc., from around the world, and an even bigger collection of dead specimens from every continent.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPQLotOW_cppUYrmc_Co2REJrXxKaV3on-eYy4fcOjiB-zuJcanJ4KBvH_8B-OwC3AP2PBaRkie36thLFV0JNYq4bDlsI1fEURBnVcWmRfcMatfk5ao6ExsJyJC1z74TIBCUFsqpwd-Y/s1600/Image00026.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPQLotOW_cppUYrmc_Co2REJrXxKaV3on-eYy4fcOjiB-zuJcanJ4KBvH_8B-OwC3AP2PBaRkie36thLFV0JNYq4bDlsI1fEURBnVcWmRfcMatfk5ao6ExsJyJC1z74TIBCUFsqpwd-Y/s320/Image00026.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475976846539900562" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(African Scarab beetles.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnfnO8-rav4nM2nhQhfHGIKLl_01MK5or5FeKJ_gx0MkZ8iwW867H1vDdKy-c-U3UNhs8vCl-d323k1cnpZBy8g-neOc8B20GVJrm4x5pLjt5f_FVXknaSOD6pG8dCtMXHIAfShH2XIPo/s1600/Image00023.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnfnO8-rav4nM2nhQhfHGIKLl_01MK5or5FeKJ_gx0MkZ8iwW867H1vDdKy-c-U3UNhs8vCl-d323k1cnpZBy8g-neOc8B20GVJrm4x5pLjt5f_FVXknaSOD6pG8dCtMXHIAfShH2XIPo/s320/Image00023.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475976204101632578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Beautiful brush-footed butterflies. Try and say that five times fast.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ddM7o-i2nbgfHUg3MVsEdpUrb7Lk4PVydcSuKHwjkAaWnM3FfcsAuyjA906sl7_fXGBnr2ZmRb3FniHsBwPCOv_jR0dqTllZR1gnQA19sRFS3Nfs6IZLbvsjFAa6Y9wv8qzIs6UcB4c/s1600/Image00021.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ddM7o-i2nbgfHUg3MVsEdpUrb7Lk4PVydcSuKHwjkAaWnM3FfcsAuyjA906sl7_fXGBnr2ZmRb3FniHsBwPCOv_jR0dqTllZR1gnQA19sRFS3Nfs6IZLbvsjFAa6Y9wv8qzIs6UcB4c/s320/Image00021.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475976197808849346" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Beautiful <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Linne</span> beetles.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3H1oorEUlCIfipp3TpsnyBVaM3JfDId8IPrDdnCoOtOWNe5n82cdwTh_GCdkj9-iucFLki6NC_Q0-fYZlaBax2NRWrktgMpZjy2x3Yei38vGdTmPy958EsiWsS8xZQU28A-V3_ZgUrMs/s1600/Image00022.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3H1oorEUlCIfipp3TpsnyBVaM3JfDId8IPrDdnCoOtOWNe5n82cdwTh_GCdkj9-iucFLki6NC_Q0-fYZlaBax2NRWrktgMpZjy2x3Yei38vGdTmPy958EsiWsS8xZQU28A-V3_ZgUrMs/s320/Image00022.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475976199026107122" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(BIG <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Linne</span> beetles. Keep in mind these beetles are about six centimetres further away than my pen, because they're behind glass. In actuality this means that they're much larger than my roughly thirteen centimetre long pen.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpgtcfYRKeA2y_CBxGxBvjYuBZ2TDjO2N5MxnhxRw2nHI3e3wpsu8mDr2KEgLKrM04Op5VCtYK__0ULPpSCSoMdnxtqXR3-ksJULrjvqiVvgeu8eMSEiqsLis9RorTxNYFmOmP6UiWVs/s1600/Image00024.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpgtcfYRKeA2y_CBxGxBvjYuBZ2TDjO2N5MxnhxRw2nHI3e3wpsu8mDr2KEgLKrM04Op5VCtYK__0ULPpSCSoMdnxtqXR3-ksJULrjvqiVvgeu8eMSEiqsLis9RorTxNYFmOmP6UiWVs/s320/Image00024.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475976207973182802" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Oh, what a cute little tarantula...)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUz9UyHFgK-M5bGucRfpsl5nwgyuxdaXNvrdKj5ZK8WIziwB191w5AHG-kY3xjyvICJ1HcIWpGby_V7ZojQajkGjwwhG4J4QkIE_guRWhULZkReYDQZUHFOJWqW7ZGX_01w7eqN-aTr9M/s1600/Image00025.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUz9UyHFgK-M5bGucRfpsl5nwgyuxdaXNvrdKj5ZK8WIziwB191w5AHG-kY3xjyvICJ1HcIWpGby_V7ZojQajkGjwwhG4J4QkIE_guRWhULZkReYDQZUHFOJWqW7ZGX_01w7eqN-aTr9M/s320/Image00025.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475976213550732242" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Not!)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNBsCjHPZ6dCQpq8FPpA2IpRqxMoU02GAbkrLT31qLSbwGLtfZ1abpB4vNpS2Eovl7IVIcVzkna5emAXRorosSJlNKWsMbFwYAOQ2NKaMuwv2iRyYjFXBs7AXhAQshAjrOoJRwhY3bwY/s1600/Image00017.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNBsCjHPZ6dCQpq8FPpA2IpRqxMoU02GAbkrLT31qLSbwGLtfZ1abpB4vNpS2Eovl7IVIcVzkna5emAXRorosSJlNKWsMbFwYAOQ2NKaMuwv2iRyYjFXBs7AXhAQshAjrOoJRwhY3bwY/s320/Image00017.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475967506379155586" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(How much do you not want to have this moth fly in to your bedroom on a hot summer night?)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVQZe8cvMAgmlRdteDkwdTk_Jtut86XXwYptkWfMkd9LuDSFk5oKEjX2KbIgZdLDhT_pki0JeXNbQrpu4d2ow9hxP0MePHmEZ3zlYMVuAf_ehW_8O0lUfRIdMuBnrtLdrxB1_q2toFBA/s1600/Image00018.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVQZe8cvMAgmlRdteDkwdTk_Jtut86XXwYptkWfMkd9LuDSFk5oKEjX2KbIgZdLDhT_pki0JeXNbQrpu4d2ow9hxP0MePHmEZ3zlYMVuAf_ehW_8O0lUfRIdMuBnrtLdrxB1_q2toFBA/s320/Image00018.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475967509902983394" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(I don't think this picture needs much commentary. Remember that objects behind the glass are much larger than they appear relative to the pen.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9ihTHAGwQVSYSkxd4Ez2mvgCBtpI0-cFMfffvUdeMn49iVhOe29IRZhG8UssohHdocXhAG_5GOGoAN0gPNekA9MA1JmklswUsph2i0oH7z-d66TmjRzFwtxuQpUdFvuigTtw8iqO0Mw/s1600/Image00016.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB9ihTHAGwQVSYSkxd4Ez2mvgCBtpI0-cFMfffvUdeMn49iVhOe29IRZhG8UssohHdocXhAG_5GOGoAN0gPNekA9MA1JmklswUsph2i0oH7z-d66TmjRzFwtxuQpUdFvuigTtw8iqO0Mw/s320/Image00016.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475967504910828338" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(A tin mantis, made by children in South Africa, sitting on a tin can.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpFytPiJDt5UmaYvY6NuSyQ-Wtg8HANPBVkuP1EyTFE5DezMrqLbZEjuWiJ-U1EmxVe2y-FAYTvHtWBWPV7Bd5jPI8vI4N9Q259GJM-MUuis0M0dq-8n3Ghl5RY4c9FZJR7TGnrGLN2c/s1600/Image00019.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpFytPiJDt5UmaYvY6NuSyQ-Wtg8HANPBVkuP1EyTFE5DezMrqLbZEjuWiJ-U1EmxVe2y-FAYTvHtWBWPV7Bd5jPI8vI4N9Q259GJM-MUuis0M0dq-8n3Ghl5RY4c9FZJR7TGnrGLN2c/s320/Image00019.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475967513644766530" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(How many leaf insects can you find? There are at least five.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRELxBGvkSzGhTRqrKbaOpLXMk0oqRVXb23Ow2B-paF7pt9aIi6feB8YHpfCU62XjJBMI4GznjYuiXmVqxBC9J6SRwptS4Mnjhta1NhkWC3wxQbij1ezhwn0jay7TCM_JxJNdLVbolU5I/s1600/Image00020.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRELxBGvkSzGhTRqrKbaOpLXMk0oqRVXb23Ow2B-paF7pt9aIi6feB8YHpfCU62XjJBMI4GznjYuiXmVqxBC9J6SRwptS4Mnjhta1NhkWC3wxQbij1ezhwn0jay7TCM_JxJNdLVbolU5I/s320/Image00020.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475967518888054354" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Giant cockroaches. Find all four.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOnZNT2ecgUbWH2SVhKJs_hHWwUjPj8mBiRSqwbBcMNHENNwAk37H1jeExDoP8-XqAdi1Li-cnK1KjkBv8cWNQBz49fExptuUyN8qQEydgl7jyRqooR_L-ZdT6vguemoRZeNIdJVs8Zw/s1600/Image00015.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOnZNT2ecgUbWH2SVhKJs_hHWwUjPj8mBiRSqwbBcMNHENNwAk37H1jeExDoP8-XqAdi1Li-cnK1KjkBv8cWNQBz49fExptuUyN8qQEydgl7jyRqooR_L-ZdT6vguemoRZeNIdJVs8Zw/s320/Image00015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475967174638212962" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Honey bees working, up close.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVustoFZfmxyP_eYIFih8QCFDNaDoiYinkYhjHD0T3I1zjCeh4suXn8-fJRvpuvO85GNrg6IcN0PHt_Kf1D_bu-WnsHwdXSoFw7MxP4kYP053LvZ8auwtUWjGC3q0vBu3gdznEMrWxhU/s1600/Image00014.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrVustoFZfmxyP_eYIFih8QCFDNaDoiYinkYhjHD0T3I1zjCeh4suXn8-fJRvpuvO85GNrg6IcN0PHt_Kf1D_bu-WnsHwdXSoFw7MxP4kYP053LvZ8auwtUWjGC3q0vBu3gdznEMrWxhU/s320/Image00014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475967169407397122" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(A termite queen. That's her head and thorax on the left, behind the bubble. The rest is her abdomen. This one always makes me a little squeamish.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi28o6eJ2VvBqgOoV-lqo1pTYN4kuhvVZ1eusWWXWhtOuKxjqwOr1QE4YBa2Rl_p07yYRhvuQ8dypAcP1raE7HskGNGNiHf8hsrAmi91i4OmXksrcp-LhQ1514xcJgR2JZm1ixqmW7BPe8/s1600/Image00028.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi28o6eJ2VvBqgOoV-lqo1pTYN4kuhvVZ1eusWWXWhtOuKxjqwOr1QE4YBa2Rl_p07yYRhvuQ8dypAcP1raE7HskGNGNiHf8hsrAmi91i4OmXksrcp-LhQ1514xcJgR2JZm1ixqmW7BPe8/s320/Image00028.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475976853397114242" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi28o6eJ2VvBqgOoV-lqo1pTYN4kuhvVZ1eusWWXWhtOuKxjqwOr1QE4YBa2Rl_p07yYRhvuQ8dypAcP1raE7HskGNGNiHf8hsrAmi91i4OmXksrcp-LhQ1514xcJgR2JZm1ixqmW7BPe8/s1600/Image00028.jpg"></a>(Yummy! Barbecued insect <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">moultings</span>. Yes, of course I tried one.)<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-O8iiMeTWdP2Wgzs4J6IyxKGsvfXppaJa2NL4uoWn9hvF6NMLkC6zEqpAkaVGtGHAmRRtcwQd5f0P5gXYSta3ugjAe7NjFuoy-fujVjl_ii9FoT8MbiqFtqMNNAxBXbghjQQM5NkGbg/s1600/Image00030.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH-O8iiMeTWdP2Wgzs4J6IyxKGsvfXppaJa2NL4uoWn9hvF6NMLkC6zEqpAkaVGtGHAmRRtcwQd5f0P5gXYSta3ugjAe7NjFuoy-fujVjl_ii9FoT8MbiqFtqMNNAxBXbghjQQM5NkGbg/s320/Image00030.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475976861273303522" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Oh no! I caught "The Spider." This is the most fun piece of playground equipment ever invented, and a great workout too. If I become a principal of a school, my first act will be to install one of these structures in my playground.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Behind the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Insectarium</span> is the colossal Botanical Gardens of Montreal. Originally built in 1931 as a result of the dream of one Brother Marie-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Victorin</span>, the Garden now contains over 22 000 species of plants, organized into 10 green houses and around 30 thematic gardens, and is one of the largest Botanical Gardens in the world.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ncwymWIMknfVlujpgLFzdXiZPQzQ3EkyaH4WjxW3gmm4enQ94MUD8W8DThcaxRxdfbHx94NRtTodW9gXY7IH17DbY0RS0u5PbbPxw8g2uxUGeZiCxOzd3epDVuk8ScCHKp3TzTDUz78/s1600/Image00029.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ncwymWIMknfVlujpgLFzdXiZPQzQ3EkyaH4WjxW3gmm4enQ94MUD8W8DThcaxRxdfbHx94NRtTodW9gXY7IH17DbY0RS0u5PbbPxw8g2uxUGeZiCxOzd3epDVuk8ScCHKp3TzTDUz78/s320/Image00029.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475976859115267762" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimNxKVwQrvX83iOYHPzOpTkVKZQHgv4QDsRs7m8RcNz8DXMP6ipNZBbTvXsNLmc0jWBYWhwmeF9LKBZOsnH-aZZey6fy7GmRkjCIq87VGDHivqgVc0eTMR1-BO4OQNd4WPKUOdvZPpjP0/s1600/Image00041.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimNxKVwQrvX83iOYHPzOpTkVKZQHgv4QDsRs7m8RcNz8DXMP6ipNZBbTvXsNLmc0jWBYWhwmeF9LKBZOsnH-aZZey6fy7GmRkjCIq87VGDHivqgVc0eTMR1-BO4OQNd4WPKUOdvZPpjP0/s320/Image00041.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475980351013415794" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrAW9y-CX5aCQ7TLpxiD5yvXH6pJLSXT_hybOMuZtBVA-kfSJglPnHt1Se4yp9YlPx-xUd4IYgwCfHnXW05ibV_srWclkeH_IF9iMNOOnA04TXo1cyYqaGgk8IDWiOHAkJg1BgaRp-lGA/s1600/Image00045.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrAW9y-CX5aCQ7TLpxiD5yvXH6pJLSXT_hybOMuZtBVA-kfSJglPnHt1Se4yp9YlPx-xUd4IYgwCfHnXW05ibV_srWclkeH_IF9iMNOOnA04TXo1cyYqaGgk8IDWiOHAkJg1BgaRp-lGA/s320/Image00045.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475981600880144146" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6fuHFcODfJaiSXAwngCTEGNI52P1n8hA5CeNtEM5HlOLpdLWjdju0nwAD6HewnTVyr9FAlwGNGayHuPeF7DWBkUQaWg-8Ox_mIsMNPJiQH6t5TU0a44G6pwWmiXxuoQYZxIcx-6tHvZA/s1600/Image00046.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6fuHFcODfJaiSXAwngCTEGNI52P1n8hA5CeNtEM5HlOLpdLWjdju0nwAD6HewnTVyr9FAlwGNGayHuPeF7DWBkUQaWg-8Ox_mIsMNPJiQH6t5TU0a44G6pwWmiXxuoQYZxIcx-6tHvZA/s320/Image00046.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475981605741177634" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2jqNCGR7Bsph-O93RM1B7l-npIZ16mcBKojBI1acqhyQ9PQhv_1mdATKM7Fcvnw3Cp_0YZ6jFczLvPAsJDkoH-UO-CiMeSs4Be0CG_aAUeHNGmnXPDTxMNxQLSAwqAaqL7nozZlBkPk/s1600/Image00035.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2jqNCGR7Bsph-O93RM1B7l-npIZ16mcBKojBI1acqhyQ9PQhv_1mdATKM7Fcvnw3Cp_0YZ6jFczLvPAsJDkoH-UO-CiMeSs4Be0CG_aAUeHNGmnXPDTxMNxQLSAwqAaqL7nozZlBkPk/s320/Image00035.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475977616206278418" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhixD08gBc4kNPsavGobg38M0-WcGiZhzlzE51tybvLZ8M1Mvfq-RspdylVOUdlXpERZdH_yZVw9zBZl6J8zFZ6ozm9RQcYK6JxTzadwfuKLrv3jZBBy0TLKNRc39HzCkHYUrgTLZyFTMI/s1600/Image00040.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhixD08gBc4kNPsavGobg38M0-WcGiZhzlzE51tybvLZ8M1Mvfq-RspdylVOUdlXpERZdH_yZVw9zBZl6J8zFZ6ozm9RQcYK6JxTzadwfuKLrv3jZBBy0TLKNRc39HzCkHYUrgTLZyFTMI/s320/Image00040.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475979866210576194" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR08AVnSmtssdsI98qcd1_COWJcvpFR37jB_tVvMNuBm2aLpvTzd8lq6bGRoDmZPXOaKZ2eZacNb7qsm8bozsz3fn1YqSDyS2oQpE01d6RfH2XBNXH2lpposP1qTtfRv3v-THjsVZNlhU/s1600/Image00031.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR08AVnSmtssdsI98qcd1_COWJcvpFR37jB_tVvMNuBm2aLpvTzd8lq6bGRoDmZPXOaKZ2eZacNb7qsm8bozsz3fn1YqSDyS2oQpE01d6RfH2XBNXH2lpposP1qTtfRv3v-THjsVZNlhU/s320/Image00031.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475977601935234722" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4kWTE3cT3eRXHyqG9622WvRKp3Wj5mR9USK_8Qrb1Ztl0BuHwb5fHhfwkLUk04wxon3zF120Wsdoo6cH6UaRwruU6byfBkJudsghTjtzGIBWa4q_o9XvL-J2Ml5q2bJP7VPrk1JroDk/s1600/Image00033.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4kWTE3cT3eRXHyqG9622WvRKp3Wj5mR9USK_8Qrb1Ztl0BuHwb5fHhfwkLUk04wxon3zF120Wsdoo6cH6UaRwruU6byfBkJudsghTjtzGIBWa4q_o9XvL-J2Ml5q2bJP7VPrk1JroDk/s320/Image00033.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475977609504710722" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnfMyUTbajBhJDYuA5tnOR5AmXbeItmP-t6aQWDQrVNHflI8duVW4ge7BglUDJ4R7XqOIDG2YOA0rKY1WcShbMUe4bVXlH4eabhRvxodTbpRw-yOA8SGeFn7630tF5Gpvk3sIlYe-P7W4/s1600/Image00032.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnfMyUTbajBhJDYuA5tnOR5AmXbeItmP-t6aQWDQrVNHflI8duVW4ge7BglUDJ4R7XqOIDG2YOA0rKY1WcShbMUe4bVXlH4eabhRvxodTbpRw-yOA8SGeFn7630tF5Gpvk3sIlYe-P7W4/s320/Image00032.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475977606412055842" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(A mother duck quacks in distress over her ducklings who have all fallen down into this pool. Apparently this happens two to three times a week, and one of the staff members at the Botanical Gardens has to come and rescue them. Just another example of why babies are stupid.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQER_mVO9Jeqdz3Vmoi7W__MTeESfOEvuKMCZk52V_hUDE0XiPgbzifBBGWTggpXBagy2BzIRMzS5gBoQNLSy9jeP980q1OJUFJ1JWyozOSpgBVL4PPZ3CEzHoctOsSNqw59Hm36X335w/s1600/Image00034.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQER_mVO9Jeqdz3Vmoi7W__MTeESfOEvuKMCZk52V_hUDE0XiPgbzifBBGWTggpXBagy2BzIRMzS5gBoQNLSy9jeP980q1OJUFJ1JWyozOSpgBVL4PPZ3CEzHoctOsSNqw59Hm36X335w/s320/Image00034.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475977614012485794" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(This stone statue is supposed to represent some aspect of Tai Chi. Perhaps I needed to turn my camera upside down?)</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIFY6NKUoOkOrY_3EhdShhlTtg3wnfvVXcuHrOshYW6IeMFX6UbTkex8xwIHo4jYR3N0gVtLD7dt8qYwC1qNC1xAygLEcdx-w72pCDjDeC7IKQe0XVEt9J4FW4SmmbxXWdz-mu4AAaSY/s1600/Image00039.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIFY6NKUoOkOrY_3EhdShhlTtg3wnfvVXcuHrOshYW6IeMFX6UbTkex8xwIHo4jYR3N0gVtLD7dt8qYwC1qNC1xAygLEcdx-w72pCDjDeC7IKQe0XVEt9J4FW4SmmbxXWdz-mu4AAaSY/s320/Image00039.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475979855610259266" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsT4zFANUXjjjcCmQBJj9bVIykukYOraPA_TiAxguGVJe3dF-rphgQkGIi6aMaB0e7yZtGDzPowI6gJZdcG2HR7M4Fhjo6a8Dc68aXBB4FxtwC-xAWOQVACvUUb6fRxBxk6X2QhGhivs/s1600/Image00038.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIsT4zFANUXjjjcCmQBJj9bVIykukYOraPA_TiAxguGVJe3dF-rphgQkGIi6aMaB0e7yZtGDzPowI6gJZdcG2HR7M4Fhjo6a8Dc68aXBB4FxtwC-xAWOQVACvUUb6fRxBxk6X2QhGhivs/s320/Image00038.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475979851252983858" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWwwGmr8zIxrKsgj2mcgxGzo5zCWUAAfO1cQTcm01aT2_3jVjMA63_X55Mp1JGmqC30ZaKCt7tj1OWymS7kX72AR1VjaGLJfjxIwn-jyQi9mgPgmWFNuZksaByvTfykyKpUVX6FyOAtc/s1600/Image00037.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWwwGmr8zIxrKsgj2mcgxGzo5zCWUAAfO1cQTcm01aT2_3jVjMA63_X55Mp1JGmqC30ZaKCt7tj1OWymS7kX72AR1VjaGLJfjxIwn-jyQi9mgPgmWFNuZksaByvTfykyKpUVX6FyOAtc/s320/Image00037.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475979843998571874" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrRIx5uzz-x5vHH3nL2TPlaRJx8YWUndhdAEKMPjE4hKkGxCVGYRRXwQIW2_R0F2pv1bdZ2npf8_fBV6umgi4X3J_mJyz7sN7SrOdilw38JOltwT2t2I8b5eWDfjD7UX2Pp-wH-A51is/s1600/Image00036.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrRIx5uzz-x5vHH3nL2TPlaRJx8YWUndhdAEKMPjE4hKkGxCVGYRRXwQIW2_R0F2pv1bdZ2npf8_fBV6umgi4X3J_mJyz7sN7SrOdilw38JOltwT2t2I8b5eWDfjD7UX2Pp-wH-A51is/s320/Image00036.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475979839180929986" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Highlights of the Japanese Garden.)</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5EK3uJDuBE_nU9O5olcRDh0aDaqFPsC1WrXX5vykKHWhPpD6A3gKgI4SC1766QI6pC9P0TpA0uEr5lLY9ADy02kbJQXHE8zeBJ5FAJOj7vLDOHCA9k6MFMqMDcxy89idIpeB1CqEDFk/s1600/Image00044.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5EK3uJDuBE_nU9O5olcRDh0aDaqFPsC1WrXX5vykKHWhPpD6A3gKgI4SC1766QI6pC9P0TpA0uEr5lLY9ADy02kbJQXHE8zeBJ5FAJOj7vLDOHCA9k6MFMqMDcxy89idIpeB1CqEDFk/s320/Image00044.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475980363412894162" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Alpine Garden.)</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5EK3uJDuBE_nU9O5olcRDh0aDaqFPsC1WrXX5vykKHWhPpD6A3gKgI4SC1766QI6pC9P0TpA0uEr5lLY9ADy02kbJQXHE8zeBJ5FAJOj7vLDOHCA9k6MFMqMDcxy89idIpeB1CqEDFk/s1600/Image00044.jpg"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGbnXuwlLGN33cKZ1cHWtxHEW0bLKSVlmq9pLMg72ID7ergoXUXJXzDxDdH6Bv9T7j4zifd-cDzEpS-4U0pNHnC2L-SHjlx0i1xY7Eii979yeXc3XtwtZKznCViosQs0P03bnHMBBPww/s1600/Image00043.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGbnXuwlLGN33cKZ1cHWtxHEW0bLKSVlmq9pLMg72ID7ergoXUXJXzDxDdH6Bv9T7j4zifd-cDzEpS-4U0pNHnC2L-SHjlx0i1xY7Eii979yeXc3XtwtZKznCViosQs0P03bnHMBBPww/s320/Image00043.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475980359726790738" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQctmqBNTbL6xy0jeQsrthcOD0j_hnRuxpK8QBIbuYrueXgkU-YEfkFUxuXe_wRh_a77lqv7VjU9Hl3hOF4Jz4VlIEhrDUEhLF_sHAnIYMmt1j4fytCFpFREZTdCubyERSnUmiqITq90/s1600/Image00042.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQQctmqBNTbL6xy0jeQsrthcOD0j_hnRuxpK8QBIbuYrueXgkU-YEfkFUxuXe_wRh_a77lqv7VjU9Hl3hOF4Jz4VlIEhrDUEhLF_sHAnIYMmt1j4fytCFpFREZTdCubyERSnUmiqITq90/s320/Image00042.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475980352985656514" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Two pictures from the magnificent Chinese Garden - the best garden at the Botanical Gardens by a mile.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6XLiFI0WtXgl9sOarmNOnhRnarAiBh7MPZp4F4AqPKehlcvAEzWIOl-oyQZQumKBtjgDc3eh-dAYDykuw-8ewhN5cLPFfUQOnkiKCTR9tjGyMfaoMoTswiX-pYJaO9jLQNVdmDWMJOk/s1600/Image00047.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6XLiFI0WtXgl9sOarmNOnhRnarAiBh7MPZp4F4AqPKehlcvAEzWIOl-oyQZQumKBtjgDc3eh-dAYDykuw-8ewhN5cLPFfUQOnkiKCTR9tjGyMfaoMoTswiX-pYJaO9jLQNVdmDWMJOk/s320/Image00047.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475981610291943778" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBaHN-Y3Re04lJ0JXC-LwnCmEOudZkBkolyTOfv3PrDGQhm1uXo0jhB-lbu2_z4zdxaXQm0GxTOXYksbAv2JA2M8A6cELQiqcw2i5qz3rC2bqM9HsmmEpccmaYymz8W27ZCdRhqj6jBM/s1600/Image00048.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBaHN-Y3Re04lJ0JXC-LwnCmEOudZkBkolyTOfv3PrDGQhm1uXo0jhB-lbu2_z4zdxaXQm0GxTOXYksbAv2JA2M8A6cELQiqcw2i5qz3rC2bqM9HsmmEpccmaYymz8W27ZCdRhqj6jBM/s320/Image00048.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475981613623654658" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After staggering through the Garden for more than 2 hours, I finally reached the restaurant at the finish, where I sat under an umbrella near the stunning fountain (above), and refreshed myself with what, at that time, was the most delicious 7-Up ever. From here I went home and hid from the sun for the remainder of the day, afraid my skin would melt in the outdoor sauna otherwise.</div></div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-31902588391241405442010-05-26T19:46:00.000-07:002010-05-26T22:51:54.989-07:00Montreal: Day 1On pretty much every trip I've taken, I've arrived in my next destination well past lunch, and typically closer to supper or even later. Consequently, I've come to expect that my first night in a new city will be a complete waste, spent mainly trying to find a place at which to eat.<br /><div><br /></div><div>On this trip though, I "wasted" an entire day and night on the train. So when I departed at Gare Central, and walked to my hostel, it was a pleasant surprise to find that it was only 10:00 AM, and that I had effectively gained an extra unscheduled day of sight seeing.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been to many hostels around the world. They've nearly all been good, and some were even great. But so far the HI hostel in Montreal is the best. Every single day of the week there is a group activity for which interested guests can sign up, including pub crawls, walking tours of Mont Royal, and bicycle tours of the city.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today was the day of the bicycle tour. I was keen to sign up too, but because it did not start until Noon, and I could not sign in to the hostel until 1:00 PM, so I stashed my bags in a locker and went for a walk around the down town area.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVaiHB0D60vqMF46L8ds1Zayfd4COzqjj3kEedNn8LLsaHoBVinMA7YnhExevFburT8_VseYCSwAGlmCavf1TyCb-01PYGnlg7kfr-xnQwUu3CcYAsaYydbhazDR0rRKNkA6KhQqIgR6o/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVaiHB0D60vqMF46L8ds1Zayfd4COzqjj3kEedNn8LLsaHoBVinMA7YnhExevFburT8_VseYCSwAGlmCavf1TyCb-01PYGnlg7kfr-xnQwUu3CcYAsaYydbhazDR0rRKNkA6KhQqIgR6o/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475809892481382786" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGiltd_suNOAovzMnSslOD-RJQMqEHloekg536vMSUsxJU7p7GZhR6jysyjDITPntSmF6GcoT7WOdfX9kHlrVEP43dPjxEDdKv8amVMO0iiKbR92WDNgCTBoTGbiJzdArH4-y9Tk2mG3Q/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGiltd_suNOAovzMnSslOD-RJQMqEHloekg536vMSUsxJU7p7GZhR6jysyjDITPntSmF6GcoT7WOdfX9kHlrVEP43dPjxEDdKv8amVMO0iiKbR92WDNgCTBoTGbiJzdArH4-y9Tk2mG3Q/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475809894738410914" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQDRja_rC5cRAUDt3MGUZv1rzskK_PbdTBwKL5pasFD4EMPeLmetKM3h1xM7o-STMxNdDGU2oQRDi64ZZj_3tGPkCptw7ZA0F0TpDv-pAsFCVjwAVn_-k-lzwnQOnHo8jwY7yQbgkaaY/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQDRja_rC5cRAUDt3MGUZv1rzskK_PbdTBwKL5pasFD4EMPeLmetKM3h1xM7o-STMxNdDGU2oQRDi64ZZj_3tGPkCptw7ZA0F0TpDv-pAsFCVjwAVn_-k-lzwnQOnHo8jwY7yQbgkaaY/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475809901952953010" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh22PgB67h4RcUMiAZl0twzWXJTNZkhWQ47vnR2zLtWXUuv0MoMTmzYTSpo2JFPlFiFiRLdc-QuJ6ce_6NuW16itdwG_tjIuK7inY4wHSMIVDLQON3-iA7CHhMNDQ_b3EahwC57N4g3ML0/s1600/Image00014.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh22PgB67h4RcUMiAZl0twzWXJTNZkhWQ47vnR2zLtWXUuv0MoMTmzYTSpo2JFPlFiFiRLdc-QuJ6ce_6NuW16itdwG_tjIuK7inY4wHSMIVDLQON3-iA7CHhMNDQ_b3EahwC57N4g3ML0/s320/Image00014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475810687001848834" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiQDRja_rC5cRAUDt3MGUZv1rzskK_PbdTBwKL5pasFD4EMPeLmetKM3h1xM7o-STMxNdDGU2oQRDi64ZZj_3tGPkCptw7ZA0F0TpDv-pAsFCVjwAVn_-k-lzwnQOnHo8jwY7yQbgkaaY/s1600/Image00004.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYMywuSnvpx48V34i96mhsJPkvm1RRmRMShxTzDmA_ClhNOcZLl8vfS4X5WPiKXq0kKjWm92laKK0A3-MY9fAuB-ugPzt4SGtuznkJ2wSEoViXLi6dtg4JPnWgBJeSQ_d6ER44CsxFvA/s1600/Image00005.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYMywuSnvpx48V34i96mhsJPkvm1RRmRMShxTzDmA_ClhNOcZLl8vfS4X5WPiKXq0kKjWm92laKK0A3-MY9fAuB-ugPzt4SGtuznkJ2wSEoViXLi6dtg4JPnWgBJeSQ_d6ER44CsxFvA/s320/Image00005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475809905554443330" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The Notre-Dame Basilica in Old Town Montreal. The organ inside of this church has 7000 pipes.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMuvB_GN2XGsj-NiLfdZDbuDtqd_f1eTufq1vIGb0_U6l0_YVfIkGTNjNvZhVlQn329gdynhyphenhyphenBN-lPUBW6_mRweKdhduFfqkIwGx81_pOMNpHkeKwSO3-o-Iy4Qf5jIt7KlFKs9fT7AA/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMuvB_GN2XGsj-NiLfdZDbuDtqd_f1eTufq1vIGb0_U6l0_YVfIkGTNjNvZhVlQn329gdynhyphenhyphenBN-lPUBW6_mRweKdhduFfqkIwGx81_pOMNpHkeKwSO3-o-Iy4Qf5jIt7KlFKs9fT7AA/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475810207789904050" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The building on the left had the first elevator installed in Montreal, also making it Montreal's first "high rise". The building on the right was built afterwards, and was constructed as an homage to the Empire State Building.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZFShrmTmPSe4gmPncIDJz_AcLpljkwB3_ctBj0sSDSTVZM8SWSC0jqn5N4WFkVcshEdvPQx9yvcFLejEaUiw-iM1nXVUq9yfNSEjhF9MOuzDXVFsYb4gZnlt2VqWaEvxtq9fLLsNTP4/s1600/Image00019.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZFShrmTmPSe4gmPncIDJz_AcLpljkwB3_ctBj0sSDSTVZM8SWSC0jqn5N4WFkVcshEdvPQx9yvcFLejEaUiw-iM1nXVUq9yfNSEjhF9MOuzDXVFsYb4gZnlt2VqWaEvxtq9fLLsNTP4/s320/Image00019.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475812476300811346" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Random picture of some crazy guy trying to walk on the back of the bench. Actually, I'm pretty sure I've tried to do this before too.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Montreal is for certain a great city, but it's not a great city in which to be a walker. Hardly any of the intersections have a "walking man" or "stop hand" sign, let alone a countdown to yellow, to tell pedestrians when it was safe to cross. Furthermore, when the light does turn red, there is no delay before the light for the other cars turns green - it immediately turns green as soon as the other lights turn red. As a result, I saw many pedestrians get stuck in the middle of the street when the light turned red, and when this happens the drivers of the cars will actually speed up to try and hit you (not a joke). I had heard stories of this as a kid, but it didn't make it any less scary when it happened for real.</div><div><br /></div><div>As a bicyclist though, Montreal must be the greatest city in Canada. Granted, it appears as though the rules of the road do not apply to cyclists, and they can run stop signs, red lights, ride on the sidewalk, and more or less go anywhere they please as fast as they please. However, when they aren't breaking rules they can ride on the dual lane bicycle lanes on the road that actually eliminate an entire lane for the cars. Also, the temperature in the summer in Montreal is so hot and the humidity so high, that cycling is the only way to create a breeze strong enough to keep cool. That brings me to the tour.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYAPhuIa3gw4HQpV7utzMFNF7iiEPbSrjh1oGoFCgAL5yyCpBmuLax2Ahljzo3EbsmTfGGXPyBVdZjMP3kTVs7d88o9Sjv9rSWmUfzltXDTsImCVtzO3cxsADjFZSfzlUynFhi6myjDjs/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYAPhuIa3gw4HQpV7utzMFNF7iiEPbSrjh1oGoFCgAL5yyCpBmuLax2Ahljzo3EbsmTfGGXPyBVdZjMP3kTVs7d88o9Sjv9rSWmUfzltXDTsImCVtzO3cxsADjFZSfzlUynFhi6myjDjs/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475809886034814754" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(BIXI is a new bicycle sharing system installed in various locations around Montreal. You put your credit card in the machine, take out a bike, and return it at any other station around the city.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirh2GI_wCN_7olR2IjjqTeC800qeo1jZwRuZ-iV0hOnrsixNfxioRlSVsRVotk2bf2bOZFwT5o_xgwjI_rD6QpcL0hxLx1y-MqJc2jpGo9_GkiVWCHRixijoXKVnOre17pPxUnar01Cpw/s1600/Image00010.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirh2GI_wCN_7olR2IjjqTeC800qeo1jZwRuZ-iV0hOnrsixNfxioRlSVsRVotk2bf2bOZFwT5o_xgwjI_rD6QpcL0hxLx1y-MqJc2jpGo9_GkiVWCHRixijoXKVnOre17pPxUnar01Cpw/s320/Image00010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475810234121069378" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(First off, isn't it awesome that bicycles are so numerous that they need markings like this on the street at "bicycle crossing"? And second, notice how the first rider across the street couldn't be bothered to follow those markings?)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV-L4eOc40nORF-zZvxqMNCtWlmdiqVKzWpuwqNgs9YhACApIC5Snf7se3NJyWRdruye3kyYlk6kyybVKBuCHsdBC2-46-5CNvOehXqjbdnaTeDI7gc7wOz10m45QLvvkp7JtkPW4mYpM/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV-L4eOc40nORF-zZvxqMNCtWlmdiqVKzWpuwqNgs9YhACApIC5Snf7se3NJyWRdruye3kyYlk6kyybVKBuCHsdBC2-46-5CNvOehXqjbdnaTeDI7gc7wOz10m45QLvvkp7JtkPW4mYpM/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475810221538290930" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Bicycle lanes that kick cars off the road? Awesome!)</div><div>Chris, from the hostel, led us on the subway to a bike shop in Old Montreal where we paid $20 to rent a bicycle, helmet and lock for the entire day. From there we were led along the Lachine Canal - another National Historic Site - to the Atwater Market (it's "at the water," get it?) where we stopped for a picnic.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtru1pBGbLU_fMZbHRDkLIt5E4Foj8xqOLpyzWnAGWxXX7cUoeJNaX8dNW660vz7wezyJEzW7N7Q2_gvBDOtXPMSIAripYdPaFgbvmh6lEHWHjB_Zf0asfxUcwwWNfkK82UJCWmDGWVY/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtru1pBGbLU_fMZbHRDkLIt5E4Foj8xqOLpyzWnAGWxXX7cUoeJNaX8dNW660vz7wezyJEzW7N7Q2_gvBDOtXPMSIAripYdPaFgbvmh6lEHWHjB_Zf0asfxUcwwWNfkK82UJCWmDGWVY/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475810231731054578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After our picnic the "real tour" began, and we were led along a mile long bicycle bridge across the St. Lawrence River to two massive man made islands in the middle of the river. The islands in question were made from the dirt excavated in building the 33 Km "Underground City" of shops and tunnels on the main island, that constitute the longest network of connected, underground tunnels in the world (that one is a fact, not just my conjecture).</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6OpSgNKxTfR-asfGPfpvOv4pa1FLQ4Typ5YHk0m03F42av5DoKbuzsWjqj9qx8zBMgLna8X7bqGd65GgBnkVAmAnR9kspRs0z8qo4pACNZYkiNpXqnc17U0MhG8vGNk2YD31DsS-Wys/s1600/Image00012.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6OpSgNKxTfR-asfGPfpvOv4pa1FLQ4Typ5YHk0m03F42av5DoKbuzsWjqj9qx8zBMgLna8X7bqGd65GgBnkVAmAnR9kspRs0z8qo4pACNZYkiNpXqnc17U0MhG8vGNk2YD31DsS-Wys/s320/Image00012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475810676782729394" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Once again, bicycles are so popular they need an entire bridge built just for them.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3Mvp7Ec0mBP0J7g3AtW0Fjj3f9azjitDJo3IU3f_UxGHUho1Fiu6iabdwz9bkUnpThnenydeIEFGZS_xGh02vP1zVSAjxpdBjvDGJxDFn2WbtfFJxn_SrDz4gMxFFI-WY0cvwDbWsUU/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3Mvp7Ec0mBP0J7g3AtW0Fjj3f9azjitDJo3IU3f_UxGHUho1Fiu6iabdwz9bkUnpThnenydeIEFGZS_xGh02vP1zVSAjxpdBjvDGJxDFn2WbtfFJxn_SrDz4gMxFFI-WY0cvwDbWsUU/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475810671730607650" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The bridge beside the bicycle bridge. This bridge, Victoria Jubilee Bridge, finished in 1859, is the oldest Bridge in Montreal.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Once on the first island, Ile de Notre Dame, we rode along part of the Trans Canada Bike Trail (also the longest in the world, and named "best bike trail in the world" by National Geographic), until we came to The Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, where the Canadian F1 Grand Prix is held when it was in Montreal, and where NASCAR races have been held since 2007. </div><div><br /></div><div>The circuit remains open to the public in the summer, and for a fee you can drive your car around the course at a maximum of 30 km/hr. The alternative is to take your bicycle around the track, in which case you can ride for free. This of course means that you would end up paying more to go slower when you take your car over a bicycle.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgew5A44oKGQRFWRxH3c0-bpzNezE4fOVFo2zVyxVONkt_FT0il6uwNjrMm_3fHfaV8kujK8SzzDueOZjCVEJcqid8HYHagMBnWIFQEkzNMuSez4p-0I3ygoi2vX8bitANQd85LQbHAmaM/s1600/Image00015.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgew5A44oKGQRFWRxH3c0-bpzNezE4fOVFo2zVyxVONkt_FT0il6uwNjrMm_3fHfaV8kujK8SzzDueOZjCVEJcqid8HYHagMBnWIFQEkzNMuSez4p-0I3ygoi2vX8bitANQd85LQbHAmaM/s320/Image00015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475810694071817970" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>After finishing our "victory lap" (yes, I raced) we crossed a small bridge to get to Ile Ste-Helene, where most of the remaining pavilions from the '67 Expo are located.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ35JtnayD7KbgmUeNcuWpp6mo0r4NP1sjiWJJ3eVsU3eJgHoSCGT1TTPHl2EwyjExQqNfoE_9R6td1jJN9dU4bMnQ2ZA5JVGS7f-LCJzUQsxehMinTitp5MAdz6KK9FnpBD0dfhYmOrc/s1600/Image00016.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ35JtnayD7KbgmUeNcuWpp6mo0r4NP1sjiWJJ3eVsU3eJgHoSCGT1TTPHl2EwyjExQqNfoE_9R6td1jJN9dU4bMnQ2ZA5JVGS7f-LCJzUQsxehMinTitp5MAdz6KK9FnpBD0dfhYmOrc/s320/Image00016.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475812459557573986" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The former America Pavilion, now the Biosphere.)</div><div><br /></div><div>By this time we had already been out for over five and a half hours, and Chris wanted to get home to watch the Montreal Canadiens' game. We started for home, going quickly passed Habitat '67 - which was originally designed as low income housing, but is now ironically tenanted by upper class yuppies and hipsters.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ic6GjFraJFYQqFw-o9WdopomdAXFvNZAUSjNSK9EJaLZHzdRO8s-zbIPoBJc-tgS5I0eiso-3Ctn8jsBr-QeoCtES5r-yOBA4TCIXotCREBgUU9ayrX3_E-1MvX3e_PD1Upa232TPI8/s1600/Image00018.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ic6GjFraJFYQqFw-o9WdopomdAXFvNZAUSjNSK9EJaLZHzdRO8s-zbIPoBJc-tgS5I0eiso-3Ctn8jsBr-QeoCtES5r-yOBA4TCIXotCREBgUU9ayrX3_E-1MvX3e_PD1Upa232TPI8/s320/Image00018.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475812474337432706" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The tour was an excellent way to see everything I had hoped to see, but would have never been able to see had I been by myself and on foot. I also learned about the greatest rule ever: The 1% Rule. </div><div><br /></div><div>In short, The 1% Rule states that any building, or structure of any kind built in Montreal must dedicate 1% of the total cost towards building something pleasing to the eye. This is why many of the banks (which can't be taller than Mont Royal because of another by-law) have Japanese gardens inside. Both of these rules are better than Grande Prairie's bylaws limiting the size of buildings to only four storeys and mandating that 100% of the cost be dedicated to making the building look as ugly as possible.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-74862172689046470462010-05-26T10:00:00.000-07:002010-05-26T10:35:16.830-07:00Halifax to Montreal: 1 300 Km, 23 HoursToday was the big day of the start of my train trip to Vancouver. It also seemed to be the start of a journey for every one else in my room. The German above me was heading out to Hamilton (why?), and my Danish friend, Mr. Hollensen, was getting ready for a pot luck barbecue. He had originally invited his son to a "pot roast barbecue" before he figured out there was a difference. He said to me, "Something is wrong here. Why would you put a pot roast on a barbecue?"<br /><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Hollensen also had to go do some community cleaning and free lawn work, because the local government employees "had their priorities mixed up," and had let things look untidy. This bothered him because, "as a Scandinavian" he was "used to civil servants keeping things in impeccable order."</div><div><br /></div><div>In my Scotland trip blog I mentioned that I had met four people in my hostel who had gone to the UofA. This morning though, I met a former UofA student who was actually in one of my classes in my final year. At this rate, I fully suspect that by the time I end up in Vancouver I will actually run into someone I know personally.</div><div><br /></div><div>Remembering how expensive snacks/food on the train are, I decided to make a quick dash to the Superstore beside the train station to pick up some budget saving confectioneries before the trip. However, I ran right into the Blue Nose Marathon, and what Korean drivers would call "runners pollution". I made a mental note to leave for my train a little earlier, in case I have to wait a few minutes to cross the road to the train station later.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJftzZUZkCWQ6qqt7_dc9lWwvurWVCc5IUpDeLMJ3-pIj1FApph7LMQ7BpwrssgBkSHVc2pCaAqWNSUw6SFFwBdTu6tIbbDdAlihJmBrMktEFTN9YJo_EnoEd57klavHKwMVDeEYqT_s0/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJftzZUZkCWQ6qqt7_dc9lWwvurWVCc5IUpDeLMJ3-pIj1FApph7LMQ7BpwrssgBkSHVc2pCaAqWNSUw6SFFwBdTu6tIbbDdAlihJmBrMktEFTN9YJo_EnoEd57klavHKwMVDeEYqT_s0/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475628921150763266" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkidyS3cI8MYF-vofEJudzUYtTTRFgIOUni4jmwVTRpeYzACd5KUyKC-0bhqGRf4OihjzyA0iS_iUaQWcGIV9d_d8m7SwFBI4fuqn76ijP6KF_Zh1iNxMNtRe5E4Xzr5ruAHslK__YRzQ/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkidyS3cI8MYF-vofEJudzUYtTTRFgIOUni4jmwVTRpeYzACd5KUyKC-0bhqGRf4OihjzyA0iS_iUaQWcGIV9d_d8m7SwFBI4fuqn76ijP6KF_Zh1iNxMNtRe5E4Xzr5ruAHslK__YRzQ/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475628925812679394" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpA3HlgUvAzgvpqRsRgHf7I53Vq3_pyA-1Cn273MFtyCtQ7nbxqzxtYS9tI-sFqIOlMUV0uvncyBVbl3R6yhJTDh1Rc1xxsaDWHVmPGIKxF_DIHqVjL5ww9ZEzV2Me2T3WlOaPlaNVyE/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpA3HlgUvAzgvpqRsRgHf7I53Vq3_pyA-1Cn273MFtyCtQ7nbxqzxtYS9tI-sFqIOlMUV0uvncyBVbl3R6yhJTDh1Rc1xxsaDWHVmPGIKxF_DIHqVjL5ww9ZEzV2Me2T3WlOaPlaNVyE/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475628933435513394" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-IOGacxp9mnWoBNzbv1x9-1fGf2S9VIx-nvePND0I9Am38oLpAmXw-owQ8heoLovsWG9L6xMtV7IoQtLLEdOhyphenhyphen_DU1KxNwnKwDjTqjyA5zNARqDT-FNVYWavDsNbDcdKlJKmD52IymU/s1600/Image00005.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-IOGacxp9mnWoBNzbv1x9-1fGf2S9VIx-nvePND0I9Am38oLpAmXw-owQ8heoLovsWG9L6xMtV7IoQtLLEdOhyphenhyphen_DU1KxNwnKwDjTqjyA5zNARqDT-FNVYWavDsNbDcdKlJKmD52IymU/s320/Image00005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475631228327508658" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBsZu6cO4GkXZSUwZVDkY0_VR9nX9MbHTz1TIQagItfKLZiJ5Yr3bkYpENiHJ0zhKIXk-O5HOmuqFahFsItfUqywQdylSZWmYBbWjPAsTS87u5M3Gn643uKZxIuk02xHXrjOh67m8d4w/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBsZu6cO4GkXZSUwZVDkY0_VR9nX9MbHTz1TIQagItfKLZiJ5Yr3bkYpENiHJ0zhKIXk-O5HOmuqFahFsItfUqywQdylSZWmYBbWjPAsTS87u5M3Gn643uKZxIuk02xHXrjOh67m8d4w/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475631221201040546" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBsZu6cO4GkXZSUwZVDkY0_VR9nX9MbHTz1TIQagItfKLZiJ5Yr3bkYpENiHJ0zhKIXk-O5HOmuqFahFsItfUqywQdylSZWmYBbWjPAsTS87u5M3Gn643uKZxIuk02xHXrjOh67m8d4w/s1600/Image00004.jpg"></a>(This lady is in her sixties and running a marathon in 27 degree centigrade weather. Don't you feel pathetic now?)<br /><br /></div><div>In the supermarket, I noticed that Jona Gold apples were selling for $4.79 for a 4 lb. bag. Since the apples I bought at the Farmer's Market yesterday, and quoted as 6 for $3 actually weighed three pounds exactly, a quick bit of mental maths will show that I actually paid less for my locally produced apples at the Farmer's Market, straight from the hand of the farmer himself, than I would have paid at this large supermarket. Oh yes, I like this city a lot.</div><div><br /></div><div>At about 10:10, I left the hostel to catch my 10:30 AM train to Montreal (The Ocean #15). About ten steps from the door though, I was stricken with a great panic that perhaps my train had left at 9:30 AM. I had not actually checked the time of its departure since arriving on Thursday, so it was a definite possibility. I was wrong, it was neither 9:30 or 10:30, but in fact 12:15 PM. </div><div><br /></div><div>Back inside the hostel I went to torture myself watching Republican politicians make an absolute mockery of themselves and the American democratic process, on Meet The Press with David Greggory. I had to stop watching after ten minutes though, because I got so upset that I actually started yelling at the television and cursing the lying scum bags. It's bad enough when people yell at the TV during sporting events or movies, so I figured I didn't need to be part of the problem by yelling at the TV during a civilized interview.</div><div><br /></div><div>On the train, I chose my usual single row, window seat. However, just a few seats in front of me were three young families with young kids, all travelling together. Over the course of the trip, these kids would annoy just about every one in the train (but of course!). Finally, at Moncton, the selfish brats and their kids got off the train. I gave a silent cheer, but I also felt sorry for the other passengers who also alighted at Moncton, and were robbed of the opportunity to actually enjoy their trip.</div><div><br /></div><div>Because of my stash of snacks and goodies, I decided that my budget could handle one trip to the dining car each day I rode the train, as a treat. Knowing full well that whatever I ordered would be smaller than its description in the menu, I asked the waiter what she felt the most filling meal would be. She suggested the haddock, and this is what I received...</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8NUzC4UUs8ZdOnfXpk0AK3_LtbxtrtjxPfaKZIICgePWwNSLOt10h2X32EZyU3eGEVQZZO2eyxQrbjxwmerLe7q7EVPu519c0Id5Bt84o2S5f3UKeqRRyeu4WuTLxa7L4XhBEs2taJ2s/s1600/Image00010.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8NUzC4UUs8ZdOnfXpk0AK3_LtbxtrtjxPfaKZIICgePWwNSLOt10h2X32EZyU3eGEVQZZO2eyxQrbjxwmerLe7q7EVPu519c0Id5Bt84o2S5f3UKeqRRyeu4WuTLxa7L4XhBEs2taJ2s/s320/Image00010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475631390021160738" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>To be fair, the fish fillet in the middle was quite dense, and this meal filled me up exactly perfectly, although the $12 price tag seemed a bit steep. However, it led me to wonder why I was not able to order this "half-sized" meal at other restaurants, in addition to the BMI boosters they usually serve? I understand the economics of size when it pertains to these sort of things, but if Jeffrey's cafe in Grande Prairie can offer "half-size" sandwiches, why don't other restaurants?</div><div><br /></div><div>Misc. Pics:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVsZzGHvjKIIniFngKZXoL7aQNtirHmJX1BCnsonxhdIKYMtE_NXpqDopzUrJKDYvC9Rqt-Z7uE25x_I8EL2gL-xQ8xdcmGwG_UJf0oCgrwTB2UGupYSousJNM1xJ2DhtfCZMBUAdiek/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVsZzGHvjKIIniFngKZXoL7aQNtirHmJX1BCnsonxhdIKYMtE_NXpqDopzUrJKDYvC9Rqt-Z7uE25x_I8EL2gL-xQ8xdcmGwG_UJf0oCgrwTB2UGupYSousJNM1xJ2DhtfCZMBUAdiek/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475631231419015106" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The view from the train of the other side of the train yard in Halifax.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljs-9phMs02yuIiLaY7ueCf3xBrtYOohywprHDS-L7dHuLdVCYv-XpyWri7weuX3NgFSA0bigUXHsYruFAM_4-Io1DoLdtF-4ol2oJHCQ6Vnb0QHS3RBdFMDnSjsjlnJvoIjCL3eZTqM/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljs-9phMs02yuIiLaY7ueCf3xBrtYOohywprHDS-L7dHuLdVCYv-XpyWri7weuX3NgFSA0bigUXHsYruFAM_4-Io1DoLdtF-4ol2oJHCQ6Vnb0QHS3RBdFMDnSjsjlnJvoIjCL3eZTqM/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475631374992209490" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(My station: All set up for a 23 hour trip.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVFygmHzRi6DlmnZPKVVf5Eu3HfmfUbiO8yc4eVq8ynpZxvGpryUscqGTCZApJJWziUvoAkydbq2tOxn7sOJFFkrrhT7le6wKaf95d2gSM7yd4I3rcE0bGwKsVaSZYaAhwIo2KJbHxRI/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVFygmHzRi6DlmnZPKVVf5Eu3HfmfUbiO8yc4eVq8ynpZxvGpryUscqGTCZApJJWziUvoAkydbq2tOxn7sOJFFkrrhT7le6wKaf95d2gSM7yd4I3rcE0bGwKsVaSZYaAhwIo2KJbHxRI/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475631383168586306" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVFygmHzRi6DlmnZPKVVf5Eu3HfmfUbiO8yc4eVq8ynpZxvGpryUscqGTCZApJJWziUvoAkydbq2tOxn7sOJFFkrrhT7le6wKaf95d2gSM7yd4I3rcE0bGwKsVaSZYaAhwIo2KJbHxRI/s1600/Image00009.jpg"></a>(A red river in New Brunswick.)</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizb_tIHqdscvM8I5aZ7ByAuulGYkCywH3-BfOiOxpl7UvsOz-n1pHZk7FkbJnlDYmSbMHc552QugBbebLFdNGVXpO77ssmJ_7xrwCy5N3jqtdwwjQ42tQyHf7KuVaVIVj2-RDDiyImBEM/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizb_tIHqdscvM8I5aZ7ByAuulGYkCywH3-BfOiOxpl7UvsOz-n1pHZk7FkbJnlDYmSbMHc552QugBbebLFdNGVXpO77ssmJ_7xrwCy5N3jqtdwwjQ42tQyHf7KuVaVIVj2-RDDiyImBEM/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475631378047260786" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Cranes in a ship yard somewhere in western Nova Scotia.)</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-39928098798705773442010-05-25T13:27:00.000-07:002010-05-25T18:12:48.894-07:00Halifax: Day 2<div>Having explored the entire Waterfront yesterday, I set out upon the ambitious task of walking back and forth along every street in downtown Halifax, all the way up to the fort on Citadel Hill. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdpjl4Uw8zsNvrgVg8gg4eEH0cadQj2wTqnQJQNDzmh9A9rRcgSBWUnHEBrWLfIjSXJbxCTZRBc0u2KUSsPSMUTQGahay96tqyFcFOzjp9rmyZ5CW11F774O6LHEnzsIoqhuh8fuolv4/s1600/Image00016.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdpjl4Uw8zsNvrgVg8gg4eEH0cadQj2wTqnQJQNDzmh9A9rRcgSBWUnHEBrWLfIjSXJbxCTZRBc0u2KUSsPSMUTQGahay96tqyFcFOzjp9rmyZ5CW11F774O6LHEnzsIoqhuh8fuolv4/s320/Image00016.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475358715197778098" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The view of the harbour from the top of Citadel Hill.)</div><div><br /></div><div>My first task though was to buy some fresh fruit from the Farmer's Market (today being a Saturday when the Farmer's come in), because I had finished my last Ontario apple on the train, and there was no way I was going to eat another one of those Hummer apples - referring to the pollution generated in transporting them to Halifax, not the size of them. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0nL4zjlpixX7uKx1TSmDNelTHkS6sjq5B6xaRcU-PnMLx8XZY3CR1Yauv2FBytCXUIWOGCfmVfRjP9A9VotZxCuty-Ej1kzk52AVG3D8FPx3yIJVWY5WNyNyaY3HdEJ8PYoCZ_owGq4/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0nL4zjlpixX7uKx1TSmDNelTHkS6sjq5B6xaRcU-PnMLx8XZY3CR1Yauv2FBytCXUIWOGCfmVfRjP9A9VotZxCuty-Ej1kzk52AVG3D8FPx3yIJVWY5WNyNyaY3HdEJ8PYoCZ_owGq4/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355009287092818" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(This is not the Farmer's Market, it's some sort of Catholic church.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC513O63mwVBSQuxajAGWLI8tL6wzL6uugzCCGKqf5uWzEWBRTapm996sfKg2iNjkzVFQWbUC246NRW3yADFHrtYlHvhlZkDK6j2y98aKuQORn2R5qiVaU_p57HlOEmePXR74kYm177BM/s1600/Image00005.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC513O63mwVBSQuxajAGWLI8tL6wzL6uugzCCGKqf5uWzEWBRTapm996sfKg2iNjkzVFQWbUC246NRW3yADFHrtYlHvhlZkDK6j2y98aKuQORn2R5qiVaU_p57HlOEmePXR74kYm177BM/s320/Image00005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355018787276178" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(This is also not the Farmer's Market. This is a Korean church. What's that I hear? Is it the sound of potential networking possibilities? I'll be President of South Korea yet.)</div><div><br /></div><div>The Farmer's Market is actually getting a brand new, Platinum Grade ultra low emissions building on Pier 21 later this year, but for now it is still in the cramped, sweaty building next to the Alexander Kieth's Brewery. That didn't change how delicious the six Jona Gold apples I bought for $3 tasted though. </div><div><br /></div><div>Grown right in the Annapolis Valley, I've never experienced an apple so crisp and juicy. It's as though the farmers took a normal Jona Gold apple and then inserted extra apple juice.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfq0_8sG4t4I1UH4XjjI4SiclT2_mmzKiVOybpKQOCExQZsCPQiV1dYdsorh60iAARzAxQ9RZvMF1OaLtlh4inN_9HorwwQgsSMYdxoEf_pSyNgkkCgqxblyUUssDojg-vdxroYEu_YBI/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfq0_8sG4t4I1UH4XjjI4SiclT2_mmzKiVOybpKQOCExQZsCPQiV1dYdsorh60iAARzAxQ9RZvMF1OaLtlh4inN_9HorwwQgsSMYdxoEf_pSyNgkkCgqxblyUUssDojg-vdxroYEu_YBI/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475354995859972930" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Like yesterday, the weather today was beautiful, and the streets were filled with buskers and young runners who had been participating in the Blue Nose Marathon events being held this weekend. I continued along Lower Water Street in good spirits until I found an excellent tea shop with every flavour imaginable, including chocolate chai, where I sat down and enjoyed a pot, and read the local paper.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp1e25206HoLL-sjgdoULvGUTswjbZtBFDO4KS7GPwQ0C_sFm5tH_qdsMenFuJ3zYD4CUeM7wR6GnIp9a96y7gNA5r6bkeGusUg1fGUJGD2aPOhRmmGLh2yF8AeeIRkg9ouqxgf98xtuU/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp1e25206HoLL-sjgdoULvGUTswjbZtBFDO4KS7GPwQ0C_sFm5tH_qdsMenFuJ3zYD4CUeM7wR6GnIp9a96y7gNA5r6bkeGusUg1fGUJGD2aPOhRmmGLh2yF8AeeIRkg9ouqxgf98xtuU/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355017150872962" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(On a warm day, the best way to see the city is on an amphibi-bus like the Harbour Hopper. All the good cities have one of these: Halifax, Montreal, Toronto, etc. Challenge: Can you find this bus in another picture in this post?)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPIkbmy1Z2ks-PrZ3-SyO6goEnl6SIDXzyAHSY8VLu0qYfFzf0v6XO6h5wi5rWA9q-yLQwlSxhyphenhyphenF4uateKZeEOP1WqSasoNdIQTeMEdNOACaVAoSyOMwAGKR1FfjPhfF6dfr9ff8xqNw/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPIkbmy1Z2ks-PrZ3-SyO6goEnl6SIDXzyAHSY8VLu0qYfFzf0v6XO6h5wi5rWA9q-yLQwlSxhyphenhyphenF4uateKZeEOP1WqSasoNdIQTeMEdNOACaVAoSyOMwAGKR1FfjPhfF6dfr9ff8xqNw/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355536498880994" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>When I came to the public library about a half-hour later, I noticed a giant pet bear, and a man on stilts. The bear, actually a St. Bernard, was part of a program at the library to promote literacy, while the man on stilts was promoting his new <a href="http://halfiaxcircus.com/">circus arts school</a>, in which I was very interested.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvrUFxLEdLDdUfNlbhSQ3XtpLfURTui-D-ME-zmKhFL8pIDWAXi70aI6h0EvnUnicVEh5p-fJ1y2BlziwLSJ_up7In5izKqn7L-2tBaiztaGSuPQs6s20jUqijU3AXgP8hwKgl5pz5C0/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvrUFxLEdLDdUfNlbhSQ3XtpLfURTui-D-ME-zmKhFL8pIDWAXi70aI6h0EvnUnicVEh5p-fJ1y2BlziwLSJ_up7In5izKqn7L-2tBaiztaGSuPQs6s20jUqijU3AXgP8hwKgl5pz5C0/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355540312758370" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Don't show those stilts to a female Seoulite, or she'll likely try to add even higher heels to her shoes and break an ankle.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I also popped my head in to the library to see if two books I was interested in reading were a part of its collection. Both were, although one was so popular, it had a hold list of 30 people. Since I'm technically homeless I was not allowed to get a full membership, but the library allowed me to get a probationary card and so I was able to sign out the one book that was in, and download the other on e-audio book format (the e-book copy was also signed out).</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXATGwhtsCA02XU4a3-06aidYbpUMnjaJSr25vWvZHz9W8ICQaBKtrJTqPqsAtidsUcSBqUvyI3_PTSMbyZsf0jIZwPA5MUbst8U6KNqBlbdHvkIpxf3rxf-Au4TwZ8xRLe7QMlc1TMDw/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXATGwhtsCA02XU4a3-06aidYbpUMnjaJSr25vWvZHz9W8ICQaBKtrJTqPqsAtidsUcSBqUvyI3_PTSMbyZsf0jIZwPA5MUbst8U6KNqBlbdHvkIpxf3rxf-Au4TwZ8xRLe7QMlc1TMDw/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355546718331682" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Now this is the kind of "retro" or "vintage" bicycle I can get behind. Would you get a load of that neon? Radical, dude!)</div><div><br /></div><div>From the library, I continued upwards, and was pleasantly surprised to come across a YMCA. Remembering that the YMCA was where Hank Hill learned how to box, and also how to swim, I bought a four month summer pass and will train hard, since I figure after I master the marathon the triathlon is the next logical step.</div><div><br /></div><div>By this point I was starting to run out of time before I needed to get back for a late afternoon dinner appointment, so I decided to make the trip more efficient by making a bee-line straight for the unbelievably beautiful Halifax Public Gardens. Officially opened in 1867, they are as old as Canada, and in my opinion rival even the fabulous public gardens of Princes Street in Edinburgh, Scotland.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lG99aud9l2ZFEQZy9BU8M_TOy9APq6gik9-u4THNGUhdxHRhl_LdJM5UJFoW0dSx3gXWq0fXCdkd-UiTyuOMF__IgRyue3rpE7Y6rx0_cK6ghxq_H7Gd7jVIglhNGv93dcpo-wg0opg/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lG99aud9l2ZFEQZy9BU8M_TOy9APq6gik9-u4THNGUhdxHRhl_LdJM5UJFoW0dSx3gXWq0fXCdkd-UiTyuOMF__IgRyue3rpE7Y6rx0_cK6ghxq_H7Gd7jVIglhNGv93dcpo-wg0opg/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355823987211698" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcE3KmDbK68S2RsDkXPBBtCuCz-dAtC0gHCi6wW9481DNfkEP0f2wta73M7UoWLgRnK-DAoyK3bkGbdPnkOuROF1VoVbjLNiuoLbfynoLTkwClnZgY3elFRujS93PJ6lNNFp7jw0h-xrw/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcE3KmDbK68S2RsDkXPBBtCuCz-dAtC0gHCi6wW9481DNfkEP0f2wta73M7UoWLgRnK-DAoyK3bkGbdPnkOuROF1VoVbjLNiuoLbfynoLTkwClnZgY3elFRujS93PJ6lNNFp7jw0h-xrw/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475379662082911666" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXhUbYxO-uC49GkgAyl5sYALnx5V4EjAyWRPGXowO_BIqO3J5DRvIY9D2OtmR-5WWh7ae934Vuhpxbm4-kUKnwUDej-eJidlcZTDjNRbiMWtjV2WmYxKXyRdBjobq9aNX26mNi32zjaY/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOXhUbYxO-uC49GkgAyl5sYALnx5V4EjAyWRPGXowO_BIqO3J5DRvIY9D2OtmR-5WWh7ae934Vuhpxbm4-kUKnwUDej-eJidlcZTDjNRbiMWtjV2WmYxKXyRdBjobq9aNX26mNi32zjaY/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355552031731602" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>My tourist map only showed as far north as The Citadel, so it was quite a surprise when I went past it, to find a massive urban park/playground just north of the hill; the oldest urban park in Canada. In my short walk through the Commons, I saw criminals... I mean teenagers practicing stunts on BMX bikes and skateboards in a large bike park; free-style rappers performing on a loud speaker at the Pavilion for the bikers; a men's fastball game; people playing tennis on a massive six-court, hard court, outdoor tennis complex; and a pick-up basketball game. When I am not at the YMCA, I will be spending a majority of my time here at the Commons. It's everything Muskoseepi Park should be, but isn't.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGv3qTTQ3gpNchMzdBmgk0TdyPhkfsq8YHZKLtdkzFlTlD6pcSdN8uAVw9q5FYNPZqfw2V-ppUzeyqqaUF6HBAO-sIfsvHfpgs5DRLKoPcF63pTRk4M-lgmdOBXxkqIKCle6D-nwWbtbw/s1600/Image00013.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGv3qTTQ3gpNchMzdBmgk0TdyPhkfsq8YHZKLtdkzFlTlD6pcSdN8uAVw9q5FYNPZqfw2V-ppUzeyqqaUF6HBAO-sIfsvHfpgs5DRLKoPcF63pTRk4M-lgmdOBXxkqIKCle6D-nwWbtbw/s320/Image00013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355833988263746" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGnoJuMwF7stqs1wK8odmlsrXE-AKLSvV8GWLrqNK66-xb9JDofEHE1PAYCstoCuXEVMriaIKFn_kGlhxjv9Ry0smccNpp8dyIOdtYL_nFIFh1PPnZl0CdHKoMX6uW2BpJgiPH2RLG9g/s1600/Image00012.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGnoJuMwF7stqs1wK8odmlsrXE-AKLSvV8GWLrqNK66-xb9JDofEHE1PAYCstoCuXEVMriaIKFn_kGlhxjv9Ry0smccNpp8dyIOdtYL_nFIFh1PPnZl0CdHKoMX6uW2BpJgiPH2RLG9g/s320/Image00012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355826035001378" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually I made it to The Citadel, and while I had only wanted to walk around the outside of the walls and take a picture of the city below, I was so handsome and charming I was allowed in the National Historic Site for free (that, or because it was closing in a half-hour). Obviously I wasn't able to explore the museum in depth, but I will return at a later date to give interested readers a more thorough review in my soon to exist Nova Scotia blog.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEs_3vE3qBwoWWiErewNv0n7tvnXV_HrxUBtpJKyzQFGzidD_MNdjc3YOpnuKLbW22sfIqLsiBU2R_KwHM2cb5na89UmlvHdXXWEX1ofCqXooNnXamO-dXhcf0odnmbK_n3z90IDn_fc0/s1600/Image00017.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEs_3vE3qBwoWWiErewNv0n7tvnXV_HrxUBtpJKyzQFGzidD_MNdjc3YOpnuKLbW22sfIqLsiBU2R_KwHM2cb5na89UmlvHdXXWEX1ofCqXooNnXamO-dXhcf0odnmbK_n3z90IDn_fc0/s320/Image00017.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475358723174763810" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCr0QCGjbjaExe1QX-tRdWfmLEPgqfZAhmpReLzt9sEhIbpkDFEcvwyEz7E5jEmsDjsOGSsTfQWoOAX6eTmHF_M_7eQB9vrL1gE2B2_7zcB8bUzb6SRyppC6oQ6RW6DrNGqwdSnqG5mHs/s1600/Image00015.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCr0QCGjbjaExe1QX-tRdWfmLEPgqfZAhmpReLzt9sEhIbpkDFEcvwyEz7E5jEmsDjsOGSsTfQWoOAX6eTmHF_M_7eQB9vrL1gE2B2_7zcB8bUzb6SRyppC6oQ6RW6DrNGqwdSnqG5mHs/s320/Image00015.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355845438401522" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCr0QCGjbjaExe1QX-tRdWfmLEPgqfZAhmpReLzt9sEhIbpkDFEcvwyEz7E5jEmsDjsOGSsTfQWoOAX6eTmHF_M_7eQB9vrL1gE2B2_7zcB8bUzb6SRyppC6oQ6RW6DrNGqwdSnqG5mHs/s1600/Image00015.jpg"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMJzV_RpfZt3QFs0Jmo5cl536oTG2YfP4Z61AqQ9fnU4bA2gkjPeXAzWa9nE0QwkMxBvYQVo4WROJmA_YBD6BkCcdH5EcjvtMHgOD7IyGg9qYdWHjGpNKlIiQCuPRO0BFt7SiD4pm3uI/s1600/Image00014.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMJzV_RpfZt3QFs0Jmo5cl536oTG2YfP4Z61AqQ9fnU4bA2gkjPeXAzWa9nE0QwkMxBvYQVo4WROJmA_YBD6BkCcdH5EcjvtMHgOD7IyGg9qYdWHjGpNKlIiQCuPRO0BFt7SiD4pm3uI/s320/Image00014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475355840493606834" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>At this point my trek was done, and I had to turn for home. It had been quite a day of sight seeing, but I was somewhat disappointed for I expected to see a restaurant called The Fireside. When I was in Halifax about 8 years ago for a music festival (oh no, I'm just like those teenagers I can't stand walking around now), I found this lovely dining establishment that makes the best grilled chicken Caesar salad in the world. Unfortunately, even though I had checked nearly everywhere I thought it could be, I still had not found any sight of my beloved Fireside.</div><div><br /></div><div>And so it was with heavy heart that I walked home, thinking my beloved Fireside had gone out of business. But then, just behind the library, and not 20 metres from where I walked before on my way to the Public Gardens, came a sight so magnificent, so awe inspiring, it instantly healed the war-torn hearts in the Sudan, and caused all terrorists in central Asia to put down their vests filled with explosives...</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78KBmrtrwvsm_M5rmIIP57PHIGsjtmShzIwJOkN3ul4RPTE3sKhcEmYirzG4tc6I6Nyt0TZj3RO0QxgO0N-xGhVx3nODGWD75SUvWu5_wwjWVSVaeTsUnUPSgneGt5J9vi_oze3o_oWg/s1600/Image00018.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78KBmrtrwvsm_M5rmIIP57PHIGsjtmShzIwJOkN3ul4RPTE3sKhcEmYirzG4tc6I6Nyt0TZj3RO0QxgO0N-xGhVx3nODGWD75SUvWu5_wwjWVSVaeTsUnUPSgneGt5J9vi_oze3o_oWg/s320/Image00018.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475358735871168626" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Oh FireSide, did you miss me? I missed you too. I promise I will return to sample your delicious grilled chicken Caesar salad at a later date.)</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-794873958662941722010-05-22T19:20:00.000-07:002010-05-25T05:14:47.434-07:00Halifax: Day 1<div>I'm finally here in Halifax, and I'm going to try and explore the city as much as possible before I leave for Vancouver. I'm not as interested in actually visiting the museums or galleries this time though, since I'll be moving back to Halifax at the conclusion of my trip anyway. However, I would like to get an idea of what is available in the down town area, and so that will my goal for this weekend. Thus, armed with my special tourist map of down town Halifax, I decided to start at the waterfront this morning and work my way back to Fort George (The Citadel), at the top of Citadel Hill by tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj83HhRXkqaU4saZ73GgaeXOKrklQvROJW9hSOfmPLHKNy71_laocvfUHRSEy6qRvbw67O-rRyQoA3LX1lJLpaqk60JbvK3h0r8o2K6TYjX351i9hE98lJubODGYPEtBMEYq6YErCIACvQ/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj83HhRXkqaU4saZ73GgaeXOKrklQvROJW9hSOfmPLHKNy71_laocvfUHRSEy6qRvbw67O-rRyQoA3LX1lJLpaqk60JbvK3h0r8o2K6TYjX351i9hE98lJubODGYPEtBMEYq6YErCIACvQ/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474290092826456962" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I was in Halifax eight years ago and somehow missed the Board Walk all together. I'm still not sure how I did it, since I arrived in Halifax on the ferry from Dartmouth, which lands <b>on</b> the Waterfront (Board Walk).</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kZQK1EzdYqeLHUvFlHO5R6Vuk5BIi7Hb460mkVA8LKnL3aHADTZRG-UEJ4ooS3tcsia0bLT23GMNXi6wAD4uJ4cXqHMTo9xZE6wN5BcRwt1kvPfijeji6xdZwSwFKMbdU85hOqHJtbw/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kZQK1EzdYqeLHUvFlHO5R6Vuk5BIi7Hb460mkVA8LKnL3aHADTZRG-UEJ4ooS3tcsia0bLT23GMNXi6wAD4uJ4cXqHMTo9xZE6wN5BcRwt1kvPfijeji6xdZwSwFKMbdU85hOqHJtbw/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474293436516510066" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(One of many painted dolphins along the Waterfront walk. They were commissioned to promote the upcoming Naval Centennial this summer. I'm not sure what Family Guy has to do with the Canadian Navy though.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshrAFtFWOC8kolfKCQc7TtJhNC83zrhtMLWdDAbHFmydzdqIVly82v6akRRIDiGHPLOIcHw9PBySwTo07hg0eBJX1IFWVVSkPQ7nVzWhQoMJ3pISbrv0QTmLyFMYhVZaqGnxVORIwCOw/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshrAFtFWOC8kolfKCQc7TtJhNC83zrhtMLWdDAbHFmydzdqIVly82v6akRRIDiGHPLOIcHw9PBySwTo07hg0eBJX1IFWVVSkPQ7nVzWhQoMJ3pISbrv0QTmLyFMYhVZaqGnxVORIwCOw/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474294102914428834" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(A wonderful tall ship, out for a cruise of the harbour on a beautiful summer day.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvH11JZuN24nxCZ3kO98htEDCJpiUqwUkCYxpqkrzaf1bvsbbL9rkYkf9msQ38JNPTh5o-kak0V08Z4APRLn4KjWdcn1s-Hkttx6Ow5cRpw2rJSj1Tsp1fcVn66-L4w6R32za48sErnvg/s1600/Image00012.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvH11JZuN24nxCZ3kO98htEDCJpiUqwUkCYxpqkrzaf1bvsbbL9rkYkf9msQ38JNPTh5o-kak0V08Z4APRLn4KjWdcn1s-Hkttx6Ow5cRpw2rJSj1Tsp1fcVn66-L4w6R32za48sErnvg/s320/Image00012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474294107871451410" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(I'll let this one speak for itself.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I enjoyed the Waterfront so much, that I more or less spent my entire day there. I walked from one end to the other; had breakfast with some women in their 70s, on a cruise ship trip from Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, to Toronto; and then turned around and walked all the way back again.</div><div><br /></div><div>After breakfast, I checked out Halifax's version of <a href="http://3xcanadian.blogspot.com/2010/05/toronto-full-day-1.html">The Distillery District</a>, The Historic Properties. While not a fancy arts district, the Historic Properties, as the name would suggest, were once old buildings - warehouses specifically - designed to support the privateers who made Halifax a regular port. Today it's where you'll find what is likely the best gift shop ever, with some of the most unique gifts from local companies and artists.</div><div><br /></div><div>Near The Historic Properties I also found the excellent Maritime Museum of the Atlantic. It contains two floors of artefacts pertaining to the history of life on the sea in Atlantic Canada, including a powerful exhibit on the <i>Titanic</i>, with recovered items from the remains near Nova Scotia. The most powerful exhibit though, was that of the 1917 Halifax Explosion. </div><div><br /></div><div>In 1917 two ships collided in a freak accident coming out of Halifax harbour. One of those ships happened to be an unmarked munitions ship, containing cases and cases of explosive gunpowder. When the ships collided, sparks created from the two hulls rubbing lit the munitions on fire. The resulting explosion blew away an entire section of the city, and even sent one girl up on the hill flying half a kilometre.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the exhibit there were pictures of children with limbs charred black, and skin peeling like burnt paper, along with audio accounts of the tragic events from survivors. It was quite hard to take, and after this I felt I had learned enough about life with the sea life for one afternoon. I headed for home.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjrdToHGawMjfvycMrU8c-we0Yt_dChXS2LSRTM6nDDtOqx2K5CPKyX3qgzgqYX97bht8JfvMF_8TfAClkol4QiJGyF_Z4Ws6Z_sXY2oQtiNHi6S_n7evNDJnq_cFc9AHcShW6AYhctk/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjrdToHGawMjfvycMrU8c-we0Yt_dChXS2LSRTM6nDDtOqx2K5CPKyX3qgzgqYX97bht8JfvMF_8TfAClkol4QiJGyF_Z4Ws6Z_sXY2oQtiNHi6S_n7evNDJnq_cFc9AHcShW6AYhctk/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474293442884811298" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The engine from a roughly 3.5 metre long torpedo.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCaay6pdO0_JZwQa9JgYVlzjmN25Arj4RrwZ84oycWymRLmy39F4xXU_c89SrPDGQZrvZgvs3dDvA3U5XN-tbZt4AM7luOrPPE-M-1KGeqe1ZcYeaMpj29v8XnMascEudOgC4JOC1-_s/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbCaay6pdO0_JZwQa9JgYVlzjmN25Arj4RrwZ84oycWymRLmy39F4xXU_c89SrPDGQZrvZgvs3dDvA3U5XN-tbZt4AM7luOrPPE-M-1KGeqe1ZcYeaMpj29v8XnMascEudOgC4JOC1-_s/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474293436574832978" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(A volunteer painstakingly recreates a miniature model of... well, whatever that is.)</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzvPIYoHN69rZXv4dPyBzr5rvr3logVFmQGiaP1OqB5xPISu2SOyeOrf0eKHxr_J2PG5iHBptfrNVl0miz22A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>(Marvin, the Museum's Macaw.)<br /><div><br /></div><div>Along the way I couldn't resist checking out a traditional Chinese tea store I saw called Mu Lan. This store imports real Chinese teas and other products, and then sells them at incredibly high prices here in Halifax. The owner was selling the store, and so everything was reduced from 25%-75% of its original price, but I still couldn't bring myself to pay $15 for a small packet of ginseng tea (especially when I have at least twenty packets remaining from a gift I received in Korea). I did however order a pot of Qi Men red tea. </div><div><br /></div><div>The owner also asked me if I'd like some mung cakes she had made herself. She had mung bean and lotus cakes, but told me most "foreigners" like the mung bean while most Chinese people prefer the lotus. I figured the Chinese must know something the Westerners don't, and that I would miss some secret Chinese health secret if I ordered the mung bean, so I went with the lotus, and it was great.</div><div><br /></div><div>* * * * *</div><div><br /></div><div>Back at my hostel I met perhaps the most interesting man in the world. Mr. Hollensen, from Denmark, was a professor of nanotechnology in the Niels Bohr Institute at the University of Copenhagen. He's retired now, but in his spare time he leads a team in Houston (at NASA?) trying to develop the carbon nanotube super battery.</div><div><br /></div><div>The carbon super battery works much the same as the current graphite super battery, but it does not lose its charge at extreme temperatures, and would therefore be of greater use in space. I'm not really sure what a nanotube is either, but Mr. Hollensen seems to know everything about it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Hollensen also once made it to the third round of the World Blackjack Championships, and rode the subway with the president of Sweden, as the president's guest, while he was still president of Sweden. The subway story is actually quite an interesting one:</div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Hollensen was a young man at the time, going to university in Sweden. He had heard that the president rode the subway to work every day, and being naturally a curious individual he had to go see for himself.</div><div><br /></div><div>The young Mr. Hollensen positioned himself discretely across the road to see the president come out of his modest home, without any security guards. The president noticed young Mr. Hollensen and motioned for him to come out from hiding. When he told the president why he was watching him, the president invited him along to see his morning routine.</div><div><br /></div><div>The then president of Sweden (this is in the 1960s) always sat in the same car every day, and so every citizen of Sweden knew exactly where to find him any time they had a problem. </div><div><br /></div><div>On this particular day, one of them did have a problem, and he told the president quite angrily that there was an error with his tax statement and that he wanted it fixed. The president looked at the man's form, and noticed that he had in fact been overcharged. He told the man, "go to the office where you pay your taxes and tell them the president said there was a mistake. They will fix the problem right away." Now <i>that's</i> democracy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Another great story Mr. Hollensen told me, was that of his first trip to America in 1968. He had to make a connection from JFK airport to one in Washington, D.C. He asked an agent at the airport if there was a flight to Washington, and how he could get on it. The agent told him, "this is your lucky day, the flight is just about to leave. Hurry, you have no time. Just leave your bags with me and run through those doors and you will find the plane. Don't worry, I'll take your bags and radio ahead to the stewardesses at the door."</div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Hollensen ran to the door and says he "can still remember the stewardess opening the door for (him)." Later, the agent to whom he had originally spoken came onto the plane and handed him his ticket personally. Think about this story the next time you stand in line at airport security, or are treated like rubbish at an American airport.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Hollensen remembers this story fondly, because it was an example of the "can do" American spirit that originally made him fall in love with the country. In Mr. Hollensen's words, "here was a man who needed a seat on a plane (him), and there was a plane with an empty seat. And this agent knew what needed to be done, and so he put that man in that seat." </div><div><br /></div><div>I wonder how many angels die when a nation that was once the most respected and admired country in the world, now finds itself the laughing stock of the universe?</div></div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-83654642001825740262010-05-21T14:33:00.000-07:002010-05-22T04:24:32.561-07:00Ottawa to HalifaxThe problem with moving to a new city, is that you have to take most of your belongings with you. The trouble with taking most of your belongings with you, is that you need to take many suitcases. The problem with taking many suitcases, is that when you're kicked out of your hostel at 11:00 AM, and your bus to Montreal doesn't leave until 2:00 PM, you have to find something to do with all of those bags and yourself for three hours. Finding myself in this exact situation this morning, I decided go to the bank, and then walk 45 minutes to the bus depot to eat up some time.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Before I left though, I took a minute to take stock of my hostel dorm. Some time ago, or possibly in my Scotland blog, you might have remembered me saying that every hostel will have a Canadian and an Australian (and also a German). In my room alone, there were four Australians and myself (I'm sure the German was in the hostel too somewhere).</div><div><br /></div><div>Along the way I met a homeless hitchhiker named Dave, who was originally from Nova Scotia. He was excited to hear I was heading to Nova Scotia myself, and started telling me all about shark fining and trying to sell me on the importance of ocean conservation. I had already seen Sharkwater though. In fact, I owned Sharkwater, so he was preaching to the choir.</div><div><br /></div><div>At the bus depot I noticed there were many people buying tickets for a 1:00 trip to Montreal. Since I had a 15 day open ticket, and I figured it would be more comfortable to wait at the train station in Montreal than the bus depot in...well, anywhere, I jumped in line and boarded the earlier bus instead.</div><div><br /></div><div>My seatmate for the 1:00 "Express", Lisanne, was from just outside Gatineau, Quebec, the city attached to Ottawa. She was on her way to Montreal to visit her boyfriend, or more accurately to use his place to study while he was away. With Lisanne being a bilingual Quebecois, I thought it prudent to take advantage of the opportunity to brush up on my grade three French which was better than I thought, but still quite pathetic, by getting her to teach me how to count to 100. As Lisanne told me later though, "it's nice that you're making an effort, but you won't get very far just walking around pointing at your head and saying 'chapeau'." It's alright though, because I can now also say "fish" and "fat".</div><div><br /></div><div>When we got to Montreal, Lisanne stayed with me and helped me buy a ticket for the metro and also find the right platform. I'm very thankful for her help, because all of the signs in the Montreal metro are only in French. There is also more than one train station, so I would have had to know that VIA Rail leaves from Gare Central in order to board my train without her help.</div><div><br /></div><div>* * * * *</div><div><br /></div><div>When I bought my train ticket online originally, I remember it being the most complicated process in the world. First I gave all of my credit card data and entered my dates and destinations. Then I was sent an e-mail that said my order would only be reserved for two days, and that I needed to phone the office to order my tickets officially. When I phoned the office, I gave my reservation number, and the employee spent ten minutes going back into the the website to find my order. When she found it, she had me resubmit all of my personal/credit information. </div><div><br /></div><div>That brings us to now, where it appears as though in the three months since I purchased the tickets, the prices/policy had changed and it took a half-hour to straighten out the problem. Thankfully it was decided that I could have my tickets at the original price. In hindsight, it was a good thing I took that 1:00 bus.</div><div><br /></div><div>* * * * *</div><div><br /></div><div>The train station in Montreal provides wireless Internet, at a fee. However, the volcano ash from Iceland apparently produced a slight "service disruption", and so to make up for it Gare Central made the Wi-Fi within the station free until everything cleared up. I hardly call it "making up" for the inconvenience that volcano caused me on my Scotland trip, but it's nice to finally be benefiting from it instead of suffering.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's also pleasant to vacation in Ottawa, because as a city of government workers, there is a sophistication and base level of intelligence and class generally lacking in the northern Alberta communities around my home, or in which I have lived. The Montreal train station is where all the "other" Canadians come to soil that class and sophistication. </div><div><br /></div><div>Case in point: the twelve year old girl behind me in the boarding line who thought it a good time to sing out loud and dance to the music on her iPod. While annoying in its own right, this disturbing breach of good "line etiquette" was exacerbated by the fact that she couldn't sing or dance, and only knew some of the words.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's time now then, for more Words of Wisdom from David. One: If you're a pre-teen/middle school girl who thinks she can sing/dance, but really can't (all of you), and you get the urge to sing or dance to pop songs on your iPod in public, <b>don't</b>. Two: If you just can't help it, and you absolutely must be annoying, don't do it in public. Rather, find an abandoned, condemned mineshaft; gather as many of your annoying friends as possible; and hold your dance party there, at the bottom. That's not unreasonable, is it?</div><div><br /></div><div>While the government of Alberta seems to think passenger train travel is a Bolshevik plot, down East, attitudes are a bit more civilized, and so my #14 Ocean train was sold out and full. It was no concern to me though, for unlike the Greyhound, Economy class VIA Rail seats are large and comfy. I even found a seat on the right side of the car, which was a single seat row, so I had both a window and an aisle seat all in one (complete with my own electrical socket).</div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, there is no Wi-Fi on The Ocean, or even The Canadian (only The Corridor between Montreal and Toronto). Lucky for me though, I forgot to delete a number of videos from my hard drive after transferring them to my XHD before the trip, and so I filled the long boring hours, when I wasn't reading, watching my favourite show, Sasuke.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIYWAcWV3gSMHwaurCcU45uawGo0uqzlH2JRR22fDtnJXE5HnGjgg-0g14sv9oByHROeJYNBmRbGFIvS0dBlY-5Oc1f4Eb3j0V7SKJTPBjXqUMEfSCZjJdYkXUwKh8gBq8IZqyknN0rHQ/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIYWAcWV3gSMHwaurCcU45uawGo0uqzlH2JRR22fDtnJXE5HnGjgg-0g14sv9oByHROeJYNBmRbGFIvS0dBlY-5Oc1f4Eb3j0V7SKJTPBjXqUMEfSCZjJdYkXUwKh8gBq8IZqyknN0rHQ/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474030834485317922" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(A Quebec grain elevator. Part of it, at least.)</div><div><br /></div><div>At 7:00 AM, as we crossed into New Brunswick, the dining car opened up for breakfast, and I was afforded a rare opportunity to leave Loser Class and mingle with passengers from Old People Class, er... First Class. The prices of the plates even seemed downright reasonable for the diners essentially being the equivalent of sitting ducks, but after I received my order it became obvious why it was so "reasonably priced". If anyone is looking to lose weight, I can now say "ride the train". Before the end of the trip you'll either be skinny, or broke, or both since it costs so much to ride the train in the first place.</div><div><br /></div><div>* * * * *</div><div><br /></div><div>One of the down sides of being a passenger on a train in Canada, is that you're travelling with a company that makes virtually no money. That means you're so far down the pecking order of trains, that you have to stop or slow down every time a freight train comes towards you on another/same track; it reminds me of driving in Scotland. Although in Scotland. this only happens when you travel in remote areas, not on the major route to a metropolitan city with a train popular enough to be sold out.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuimU0SCyKWMGTpZlFJ-e_KvvxLP77AAzYCHK8CNEzNHAa-wawLyHtuuNAdqontp7xD5qUXx8FHpHpd06kCmlyqBkcoAcfSP5JYkvzXFI2xWYi9RSPgyoHAixPBmjR1fg2uec-3Gijvw/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuimU0SCyKWMGTpZlFJ-e_KvvxLP77AAzYCHK8CNEzNHAa-wawLyHtuuNAdqontp7xD5qUXx8FHpHpd06kCmlyqBkcoAcfSP5JYkvzXFI2xWYi9RSPgyoHAixPBmjR1fg2uec-3Gijvw/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474030828418476242" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Ha ha! That's right CN train; you wait for us this time.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTbcJb2dhpceyjX3ZH4t-luETN8RTG0spKTuYwfhUXvGIn2l718jbE1RuaLHkc9jR1tT3dmXrw7pzB4OEb_ZYLZwDC3EfvzYPyjBfYq9S9jQugqxQpkFZhL0M1rn0Y1C50TpmNwTJ4H0/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTbcJb2dhpceyjX3ZH4t-luETN8RTG0spKTuYwfhUXvGIn2l718jbE1RuaLHkc9jR1tT3dmXrw7pzB4OEb_ZYLZwDC3EfvzYPyjBfYq9S9jQugqxQpkFZhL0M1rn0Y1C50TpmNwTJ4H0/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474034460735010546" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Finally getting off the train in Halifax.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GUJWv3PBLt8sQPEnClUX8je62uCrzRMjzllXKvGU-W26r3_qi5gyMru1CnY11idE9vBDiV1ZoTYWQLhC3K6YXHaCYIaRvTA2kkkraak8TI1ZtJkRvMG_TLjEJHzWSh2hXC_cXhKBRKA/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GUJWv3PBLt8sQPEnClUX8je62uCrzRMjzllXKvGU-W26r3_qi5gyMru1CnY11idE9vBDiV1ZoTYWQLhC3K6YXHaCYIaRvTA2kkkraak8TI1ZtJkRvMG_TLjEJHzWSh2hXC_cXhKBRKA/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474034467995915826" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Yes, the train was painted green. I'm not sure it that point needed to be written on the side of the engine though.)</div><div><br /></div><div>We did eventually make it to Halifax, and despite the aforementioned delays we managed to roll into the station at precisely the scheduled time. After picking up my luggage, I set out for what I assumed would be another long walk, but was surprised to find the hostel just 200 metres from the train station's front door, right around the corner. There was even a Superstore next to the train station, meaning I'll be able to stock up on fruits and snacks for the long trip back to Montreal on Sunday.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I've mentioned in probably every post now, there is always an Aussie and a German at every hostel, and at the excellent HI-Halifax hostel the two staff members behind the desk were from Australia and Germany; so I was able to complete my regular Aussie/German search before even paying the bill.</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of bills, I had booked each of my hostels online through the popular Hostelworld website. When customers book online at Hostelworld, they pay a booking fee of 10%, and are then supposed to pay the remainder of the bill when they check in. However, I realized today that HI-Halifax was the first hostel along my trip to actually notice that I had booked online and give me my discount. This explains the current deficit in my "hostel budget", and I will need to pay closer attention to what I'm charged on the way to Vancouver next week.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I had finished paying, I turned to head to my room, when I was met by a screaming six year old kid, who was chucking a ball around and generally annoying everyone. Honestly, who brings a six year old to a hostel? And more importantly, why was he left alone to run around and yell in the hallways? As I've said before: if you have kids, you don't also get to have fun and adventure; you pick one or the other. At the very least, you don't get to go to sleep while the staff members at the hostel baby sit your kid, because you can't be bothered to do it yourself.</div><div><br /></div><div>After unpacking and taking a much needed shower, I headed across the street to a pub I saw on the walk from the train station (everything is close to everything else in Halifax). It was full though, because it was University graduation weekend, so I sat at the bar and talked to Adam the bartender.</div><div><br /></div><div>While waiting for my lamb and beef meatloaf, I found an excellent independent street newspaper lying on the bar, called The Coast. On page three I read that my threat to write a letter to my MP in a few weeks must have scared Prime Minister Harper, because he was planning on turning Sable Island into a National Park. This supposedly puts an end to all this clubbing of baby seals, but I'll probably still throw paint on some lady's fur coat when I get back.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-20418515346755843792010-05-21T04:58:00.000-07:002010-05-21T17:02:47.334-07:00Ottawa: Full Day #2Due to an odd scheduling conflict, I had a choice between spending a day/night in Montreal before heading to Halifax, or spending a third night in Ottawa before heading to Montreal to head to Halifax. Since I was already scheduled to stay two nights in Montreal on my way to Vancouver, I decided to add one more night in Ottawa but in a different hostel - the HI-Ottawa Jail Hostel.<br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8S1zAqg5SaOw4u1qK1j9x5HCLpZcvtdlJd8mpvcXH8y2IZIGh_KbUGYfSHeZiV5npDTbKJWyfDJoWAM-Q0VR8p63skKoEfT7nCjYXtWnKh1zzb_qrxXz7s1XrCo9DlgUMzHVcqKMqzdI/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8S1zAqg5SaOw4u1qK1j9x5HCLpZcvtdlJd8mpvcXH8y2IZIGh_KbUGYfSHeZiV5npDTbKJWyfDJoWAM-Q0VR8p63skKoEfT7nCjYXtWnKh1zzb_qrxXz7s1XrCo9DlgUMzHVcqKMqzdI/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692217789208386" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The lavish interior at the hostel. Those are the cell blocks, er... rooms on the left.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9BKBFYUyWvF7yuvlUoYSD5x0VzBUpvuJAqimNFmOJo3Fps_A-5Bd2iXjS8J7azyix3C5oBckA8RCCrgqOKlWTI7OZMPxUMEPisJJ0jHcPGG05_BIBjXKtfqJTRx46MumOrGxJn0YYRc/s1600/Image00010.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9BKBFYUyWvF7yuvlUoYSD5x0VzBUpvuJAqimNFmOJo3Fps_A-5Bd2iXjS8J7azyix3C5oBckA8RCCrgqOKlWTI7OZMPxUMEPisJJ0jHcPGG05_BIBjXKtfqJTRx46MumOrGxJn0YYRc/s320/Image00010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692582910248498" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The original suicide bars welded on the stairs to prevent inmates from either a) jumping over the railings and falling through the gap, or b) throwing a guard over the railing.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Ottawa's Carleton County Gaol was a "model prison" when it was made in 1862. After 110 years without much upgrade though, it became one of the worst prisons in Canada, and was closed down in 1972. One year later it was turned into a hostel, and is now said to be haunted by some of the spirits of the prisoners executed there including Patrick <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Whelan</span>: the supposed assassin of Thomas D'Arcy - one of the Fathers of Confederation - and the last criminal hanged publicly in Canada.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCgVxpsGEP99GbCNSvdvKixAMOOTJ6hgko591jQjuBDGaLL60PAkhF2whsYD46kfpe4vWW9AbqjTYNoF_aZU8YFWRTjNwcRe4ZG6qp1c7fstw-oHl9cO2BdrtgLGJNl5_KVuiG4Avb8Y/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCgVxpsGEP99GbCNSvdvKixAMOOTJ6hgko591jQjuBDGaLL60PAkhF2whsYD46kfpe4vWW9AbqjTYNoF_aZU8YFWRTjNwcRe4ZG6qp1c7fstw-oHl9cO2BdrtgLGJNl5_KVuiG4Avb8Y/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692915092772994" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The original gallows. I actually saw this from the outside, and it's just an overhanging balcony. The prisoner stands on the trap door, and when the foot pedal on the left is pressed, the gate opens. The prisoner dangles in the air outside, much to the delight or chagrin of the crowd gathered below.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Because check-out at my other hostel was at 11:00 AM, but check-in at the Jail Hostel was not until 1:00 PM, I had some time to kill, but also two full suitcases to drag around with me. Fortunately though, the hostel allowed me to check my suitcases so I could enjoy the rest of Ottawa in a less encumbered fashion.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCyBttzsAP5pXhbf64TTTO-9SR6YqeiRsF7BRkDvwb92162iRWUyyemR1YjwHHUBuscrmevHaVBkOA9lyXZCslERPU1N6BS3VUe_n65v7zimguYpF7nEWK8lyFlmbi-kyQKA-UnWWWao/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOCyBttzsAP5pXhbf64TTTO-9SR6YqeiRsF7BRkDvwb92162iRWUyyemR1YjwHHUBuscrmevHaVBkOA9lyXZCslERPU1N6BS3VUe_n65v7zimguYpF7nEWK8lyFlmbi-kyQKA-UnWWWao/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692221337199506" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>First up on my itinerary for the day was to visit Parliament Hill and take one of its free tours. The Parliament Buildings were built over a period of seven years between 1859 and 1966, after Ottawa was declared the capital of Canada in 1857. Unfortunately, most of the original Centre Block was destroyed in a fire in 1916, when a cigar butt left in a trash can caused a fire that burnt down everything but the library. The library was saved because a quick thinking librarian ran back to close the fire-proof iron doors, making the score Librarians - 1, Smokers - the biggest threat to Canadian democracy ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, a number of parents decided to bring their children along for the tour, and naturally these babies/toddlers started making loud, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">incoherent</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">babblings</span> and crying. I'm not sure why parents think that they get to have a life once they have kids. I know you really wanted to see the Parliament Buildings, and go on that tour. "Guess what?" though. So did everyone else; and they can't hear anything because of your screaming kid.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4ds3dCrOU4cDpCsetcD-HpLBoCcDbcFG4GxIX5e4ObsBpHz8dagKFz5QchMZZ6_9L1sEStpJlX6-hy69R0X3g3VFX2Coi94OiauLcGXC8QGcgW2EgEbUiZWlbNMH8eaUCzhRAWSfWzw/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4ds3dCrOU4cDpCsetcD-HpLBoCcDbcFG4GxIX5e4ObsBpHz8dagKFz5QchMZZ6_9L1sEStpJlX6-hy69R0X3g3VFX2Coi94OiauLcGXC8QGcgW2EgEbUiZWlbNMH8eaUCzhRAWSfWzw/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692228040382242" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Grown men/women have been fighting like children here for over a century. No, it's not a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">MMA</span> ring, it's the House of Commons.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8EVV0W7umbqyAIC9XCtpI1BXGVM5inKVDr7FAdMQMgqhNDTeWcJBG34G-Up70NBmD-4Dgc11fzofRaXmKKKwIvt2EbwSdei1WuKTNCEXZnCNAEqJSfk78WDTqigrLDEoowIUXGQMywY/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8EVV0W7umbqyAIC9XCtpI1BXGVM5inKVDr7FAdMQMgqhNDTeWcJBG34G-Up70NBmD-4Dgc11fzofRaXmKKKwIvt2EbwSdei1WuKTNCEXZnCNAEqJSfk78WDTqigrLDEoowIUXGQMywY/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692231894062930" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The Senate chambers, where your non-elected Senators "debate" proposed bills from the Lower House, or even propose their own bills. There are three thrones at the back. The lower throne is for the Speaker of The Senate, while the larger throne above, on the left, is for the Governor General, and the smaller throne on the right is for his/her spouse ("consort"). The gallery above the thrones at the back are for the public to sit and observe any discussion or questioning period.)</div><div><br /></div><div>* * * * *</div><div><br /></div><div>After the tour I saw a lone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">PETA</span> activist protesting the baby seal massacre on Sable Island. I might have walked by him in Saskatchewan, but because I caught "The Hippie" in Winnipeg I found it impossible this time, so I took some information from him. </div><div><br /></div><div>It turns out Sable Island is in Nova <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Scotia</span>, and so if I "write my MP" it might actually do some good. Apparently <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">MPs</span> consider each letter or phone call to represent the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">opinions</span> of 1000 people; so get off your butts and get phoning. I think when I get to Halifax I'll even throw some red paint on <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">some one's</span> fur coat...</div><div><br /></div><div>* * * * *</div><div><br /></div><div>Upon leaving Parliament Hill I noticed it was still early in the morning, so I walked up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Laurier</span> St. to building of The Supreme Court of Canada. It was only 12:35 at this point, and the next tour would not start until 1:00 PM, so I went walking around downtown looking for something to eat.</div><div><br /></div><div>I couldn't find any restaurants, but I did find a number of hot dog vendors (Canadian "street food"?). As I ate my spicy Italian sausage on some steps and watched the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Ottawans</span> go about their business in the afternoon sun, I felt a strange feeling but could not put my finger on it. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I walked back to start my tour it dawned on me that the "problem" with Ottawa is that there are no fat people. For certain there are people who can "pinch an inch", but it's nearly impossible to find a morbidly obese person, or four people even close to obese in a given day of walking around. To be fair (to the rest of Canada?) I was in the business district, and I may find the poorer sections of Ottawa full of obese people, not to mention the drivers in their cars I couldn't see, but I noticed a similar trend towards being people being lean in Toronto's downtown area as well. Consequently, it would appear as though there is some correlation between the planners of a city making it convenient to walk/ride a bicycle on the streets, and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">BMI</span> of said city's population.</div><div><br /></div><div>* * * * *</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFaRgDlV6iFzKtbbOvKpp_EIBbrr-NmMIWad1DHphhhk_Zmg_WP3KxT-pRvO8bvWM5fSWY9trcwThFZpDGNrrjeJaYTaRcbpCDpPGyemcIW9nxoyo04H9jb-j67OvvYwpaFjglC57Oug/s1600/Image00005.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFaRgDlV6iFzKtbbOvKpp_EIBbrr-NmMIWad1DHphhhk_Zmg_WP3KxT-pRvO8bvWM5fSWY9trcwThFZpDGNrrjeJaYTaRcbpCDpPGyemcIW9nxoyo04H9jb-j67OvvYwpaFjglC57Oug/s320/Image00005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692238620334914" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The Supreme Courtroom. The nine chairs at the back are for the judges. Can you believe at one time we only had six judges on The Supreme Court? The thirty-odd chairs with laptops in front are for the lawyers.)</div><div><br /></div><div>My Supreme Court tour was quite short, as the Supreme Court only contains two rooms: those for the Supreme Court and The Federal Court of Appeals. I stayed around afterwards though and had a very pleasant <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">conversation</span> with a retired American couple from Maine, who owned a used motor home and made a habit of living for five to six months in Maine during the summer, and then travelling around the U.S. and Canada for the other six to seven months of the year. If the other people in Maine are even one-tenth as friendly as this couple, I may have to lift my ban on travelling to America and visit sometime.</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point I was quite tired from walking around Toronto and Ottawa for four of the last five days, and so I decided to go home and rest for the night. However, on the way I noticed a sign for the famous locks of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Rideau</span> Canal - the oldest continually operating canal in North America, the best preserved example of a "slack water" canal in the world, and a UNESCO World Heritage Site - designed to create a continuous waterway from the Ottawa River to Kingston, Ontario. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Canal itself was built to provide secure supplies for the British Army, in the event the Americans blocked the St. Lawrence River. It is 202 km long, containing 45 locks, and at the time of construction it was the largest public works project in the world.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSihyh-E2ScS6CcjAQonZMMwm4TazBLk5lSGD7uflRB9gBykrXYFu9w5vQ4Yv_QoC4joFZkBsuDXMWArdb9gXgqYlkZMfXkCOZePzui0WLmE_mIkuhm1GSyAZTyJCbFbBupQWcr3erDjo/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSihyh-E2ScS6CcjAQonZMMwm4TazBLk5lSGD7uflRB9gBykrXYFu9w5vQ4Yv_QoC4joFZkBsuDXMWArdb9gXgqYlkZMfXkCOZePzui0WLmE_mIkuhm1GSyAZTyJCbFbBupQWcr3erDjo/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692568647125778" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The locks of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Rideau</span> Canal. In the distance is the Ottawa River. The building on the left is the oldest building in Ottawa, the old Commissariat.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Whilst taking pictures of the locks, I noticed the building on the left in the picture above, and decided to walk over and investigate.</div><div><br /></div><div>The building in question is the old Commissariat, built in 1827; the oldest building in Ottawa. It was built to store store the gunpowder, liquor, money, etc. for the soldiers and workers, and its walls were built 0.76 metres thick to protect its valuable supply against cannon ball fire in event of an attack. Today it is one of the most interesting museums I've ever seen, if only for its excellent audio guide. Furthermore, because today was National Museum Day, I got in free.</div><div><br /></div><div>* * * * *</div><div><br /></div><div>From the names of the streets, it is obvious that Ottawa has a strong Scottish heritage, so for supper I decided to check out The Highlander Pub, downtown on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Rideau</span> Street. Although this pub is independently owned, I actually remember there being many Scottish Highlander Pubs in Scotland, and seeing this pub brought back fond memories of my vacation there in my youth (and by youth I mean two weeks ago). Either that, or the pub used the same lettering for its sign as every souvenir shop along The Royal Mile... yes, that must be it.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6zrJyxDKe0O_JODj0R2jkted6COEDLwstPUTXoEgP7loVDBQdrWXSBUNbtfoW6ZRKCXkZepcrW31kjMVLNmKtpTpv_bXNOHbwDC0Bp2UwDYcCgND5sE0ltTXM36DCXOiORHpm5cwjWM/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6zrJyxDKe0O_JODj0R2jkted6COEDLwstPUTXoEgP7loVDBQdrWXSBUNbtfoW6ZRKCXkZepcrW31kjMVLNmKtpTpv_bXNOHbwDC0Bp2UwDYcCgND5sE0ltTXM36DCXOiORHpm5cwjWM/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692576893375474" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(My first opportunity to dine in the open air, on the patio of The Highlander Pub. The weather during my stay in Ottawa could not have been more pleasant.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Oddly enough, there was no haggis at the "authentic" Scottish Highlander, but I suppose there isn't much of a market for pig's heart/lungs in Canada. I contented myself with a Shepherd's Pie, which I wolfed down, before finishing up with what looked like a double portion of apple crumble. After settling the bill, I waddled home a happy man with a stomach ache and went to bed.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mdtU2ilq_Gd7SoKcntDSPAesF51rrB-Mp9z3pyudldGHgQMlniVupySm9Gptk_Z0DJLENHO9ZsXRihhMkoqwgL5J7toSIapo1nyutPKhvnSBEI4oNo6sfQEyqlnHISc-_7gteV97cnw/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mdtU2ilq_Gd7SoKcntDSPAesF51rrB-Mp9z3pyudldGHgQMlniVupySm9Gptk_Z0DJLENHO9ZsXRihhMkoqwgL5J7toSIapo1nyutPKhvnSBEI4oNo6sfQEyqlnHISc-_7gteV97cnw/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473692578930847474" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Random picture of a fire escape leading to nowhere.)</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-53971538668047784372010-05-19T06:18:00.000-07:002010-05-20T19:10:49.925-07:00Ottawa: Full Day #1When I had arrived from Toronto the night before, the weather was very warm. I still had memories of being sun burnt my first day in Toronto though, and so I stayed inside my dorm all night. That meant today was my first day out and about in Ottawa.<div><br /></div><div>No sooner had I walked one block, when some sketchy guy on an old mountain bike tried to sell me a "new shirt" and an mp3 player for $10. I thanked him politely for his offer, but told him I wasn't in the market, and then went on my way.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJbqA4QfQfTqaUgOB6ZN9623lpD4AWvGlX2hR8OTIE7vHOJ_QCW7WM2X4yvVK2K8sfsydnQzEjYbNFqb7KIwXmzG5EW0_zyt_1n8Qm8OWlcbdVjHbqpfMplqODRMb1eQUMd387R1twpG0/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJbqA4QfQfTqaUgOB6ZN9623lpD4AWvGlX2hR8OTIE7vHOJ_QCW7WM2X4yvVK2K8sfsydnQzEjYbNFqb7KIwXmzG5EW0_zyt_1n8Qm8OWlcbdVjHbqpfMplqODRMb1eQUMd387R1twpG0/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473536795830192194" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>A little later on down the street I came across a small, family owned bicycle store on Murray Street called Peccos. I had been doing some research on road bikes in Toronto, so that I could buy one for transportation when I got to Halifax, and to participate in a three day bicycle tour around the Cabot Trail in Cape Breton in September. I decided to pop my head in and take a small peak at the cost of bicycles here, to see how they compared with those in Toronto.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of the sales staff who greeted me, Audrey, was a fast talking woman from the other side of the river (the French side). She made me pick up and try all of her favourite bicycles in the store. Within the hour I had been sized up, fitted, and "accessorised" with my own custom-made road cycle. It was the best fitting bicycle I had ever tried, and I put $600 down to have them keep the frame colour and ship it to me in Halifax in a month. </div><div><br /></div><div>The whole bike, including component upgrades cost me about $1500, but in every other store in Canada a bike of that calibre would retail for $1700 or more. Audrey was so happy with my purchase, she threw in a bunch of her favourite colour coordinated accessories for free, and the owners gave me a 10% discount on shoes and SPD pedals for the bike. Unfortunately, this meant I had to walk around all day with a bag full of new shoes trying not to lose them, and also figure out how to get them to Halifax with me (the pedals were to be shipped with the bike).</div><div><br /></div><div>As I walked along Murray Street, eventually I got to the end (well, technically the start) where I found the National Galleries of Canada. As I explained in my blog about Scotland, "Royal" galleries and museums feature art/artefacts from all over the world, whereas "National" galleries tend to focus on items from that country (Canada in this case).</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijx5iP56LwYmF6nurOgwJyMdJqOSPTNc7bgCn5gFGNF8ZKjHDSff_4Rn-QlHG4Cvdy_PKSUUZBMU-QS64daZP7nri_UsoLKcjITO0-UoCIlurpFLTu-Yqre7Cv-isgPzGg3ytOeMmrwR8/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijx5iP56LwYmF6nurOgwJyMdJqOSPTNc7bgCn5gFGNF8ZKjHDSff_4Rn-QlHG4Cvdy_PKSUUZBMU-QS64daZP7nri_UsoLKcjITO0-UoCIlurpFLTu-Yqre7Cv-isgPzGg3ytOeMmrwR8/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473536015145955858" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The National Art Gallery. Look a little closer at what's in front of the building though...)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIHaNY3qJgm-Gt0cFV0IIaAumHpuDNKF8KCKmMrNrbigjWvjQYJtV3rUNGiB0wyRIZf-UJDuobyq4_sdVPD7YxPcj1tG84V3tXrYdIR48JI9WZeTYWnkMdXPGaqLAs-T-ezplWJnt2mQ/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifIHaNY3qJgm-Gt0cFV0IIaAumHpuDNKF8KCKmMrNrbigjWvjQYJtV3rUNGiB0wyRIZf-UJDuobyq4_sdVPD7YxPcj1tG84V3tXrYdIR48JI9WZeTYWnkMdXPGaqLAs-T-ezplWJnt2mQ/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473536017687659570" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(That's right, a giant metal spider. This is the same metal spider that was on the roof of the <a href="http://koreancop.blogspot.com/2009/04/episode-43-in-which-dfm-sneaks-some.html">Leeum Modern Art Gallery</a> in Seoul, South Korea.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Growing up, I only heard one thing about Canadian art: The Group of Seven. It seemed that all Canadian art started and ended with this group of artists (if you count Tom Thompson, The Group of Seven's mentor, there were eight all together). Of course, this is not the case as one might imagine, and this gallery proves. That said, the highlight of the visit for me was still seeing the original works by Tom Thompson and The Group of Seven, in all their full size. Particularly fun was looking at the original wood board paintings the artists would have done out in the wilderness, and then trying to find the corresponding full-sized studio version on the walls.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I finished viewing all of the paintings it was only 2:45 PM, so I thought I might as well walk across the Ottawa River to visit The National Museum of Civilization. Perhaps I should have done a bit more research though, because I was not aware at the time that the Ottawa River also marks the border between Ontario and Quebec; meaning I was literally walking from an English speaking city to a French speaking one (Hull).</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMC5SDHQ-dkNKXZTc1wkWAuZQVGIbMPCVeGI_ym-QuLKpAn3zocqexIAHU6OOy1CaV5gnt5yG4_i7tAJp3nEywT1GwLqoEISi1UMc6HD-m7RhFQcTkYOgjYPlBG5TxKhpbcQ7yiLz7yQ/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMC5SDHQ-dkNKXZTc1wkWAuZQVGIbMPCVeGI_ym-QuLKpAn3zocqexIAHU6OOy1CaV5gnt5yG4_i7tAJp3nEywT1GwLqoEISi1UMc6HD-m7RhFQcTkYOgjYPlBG5TxKhpbcQ7yiLz7yQ/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473536038854554434" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Looking back at Parliament Hill, in Ottawa, Ontario.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2H-dWGNHarzX9rPTYNadmcGMSheiBmXhp0ukwsVag-jgU20t1AfP4dfZDZJ446HEkq7PbHYDN8bam1cqU2bSysjqILZWWGizgcjNKeXqXWMKSJtE4J3OSyFQ8-BI2GW9Xh-JCFdRvMu4/s1600/Image00005.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2H-dWGNHarzX9rPTYNadmcGMSheiBmXhp0ukwsVag-jgU20t1AfP4dfZDZJ446HEkq7PbHYDN8bam1cqU2bSysjqILZWWGizgcjNKeXqXWMKSJtE4J3OSyFQ8-BI2GW9Xh-JCFdRvMu4/s320/Image00005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473536039921912978" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The National Museum of Civilization on the other side of the river in Hull, Quebec.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Normally this would not have been an issue, since I knew the Museum would still be able to service me. However, I had not eaten since the previous afternoon, and so I was very worried I would have to order lunch in French.</div><div><br /></div><div>The first restaurant I saw said it served "fine French Cuisine". I looked at the waiter in his suit, and the customers looking very business-casual. Then I looked at my T-shirt, and my old running shoes with "extra ventilation", and I decided to keep looking. Eventually I came across a small deli and ordered a sandwich by holding up two fingers for the #2 option on the menu.</div><div><br /></div><div>The National Museum of Civilization was very large, and had an impressive selection of artefacts from Canada's history. There were so many exhibits in fact, that I wasn't able to finish them all before the museum closed. </div><div><br /></div><div>Much of the museum seemed to be set up to tell the history of Canada, which is of course important. However, unless you managed to sleep through every class of grade eight Canadian history, there probably isn't a lot of information for the average Canadian to glean.</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of grade eight, it seems that every grade eight class in the country decided to hold its graduation field trip in Ottawa, on the same day. It didn't matter where I went today, there was always some group of annoying junior high school students there disrupting my peace and quiet.</div><div><br /></div><div>This came to a head when some lazy teacher let her (I know it was a her) students run all throughout the Canadian Museum of Civilization, with no supervision whatsoever. It was a nightmare. Every time I thought, "oh, I'll just wait until they pass," another group came along right behind them. It almost makes me not want to be a teacher.</div><div><br /></div><div>It wasn't a total loss though, for it just so happened that the IMAX theatre in The Museum was showing a 3D viewing of Jean-Michel Cousteau's documentary "Sharks". Jean-Michel is Jacques-Yves Cousteau's first son, and like his father he is also an environmentalist, conservationist, and film maker.</div><div><br /></div><div>While I more or less knew everything in the film already, the 50 or so aforementioned Junior High students also in attendance did not. They also all seemed very interested in the film, which is a positive sign. It means that even if these punks never stop annoying me, hopefully they learn that sharks are important and need to be saved. If they can do that, it will have been worth it.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-24591139091857668482010-05-18T17:54:00.000-07:002010-05-18T19:40:59.152-07:00Toronto to Ottawa: 386 km, 5.5 HoursI really enjoyed my time in Toronto, and I also really enjoyed my time at the HI-Toronto hostel. The hostel was a pretty standard HI hostel, but I had the same room mates for all three nights, and so it started to feel like home before I had to leave. When it was time to leave, one of my room mates even walked with me and wheeled one of my suitcases the 1.5 km to the bus depot.<div><br /></div><div>Despite getting to the bus depot relatively early, there was already a very long line-up waiting for the 11:30 AM Express bus to Ottawa. As more and more people boarded the bus, I started to think there might not be enough seats to hold everyone since the line behind me had also grown in this time. With about eight people in front of me I saw the bus driver start counting passengers in line, and tell the person in front of me that she was the "last one". This did not suit my plans though, so I looked around for some possible explanation and noticed a second bus waiting some distance back, which turned out to be for us.</div><div><br /></div><div>While this new bus may not have been nice and new, like the other bus with a Texas licence plate, but with only 12 passengers, it was virtually empty and I thought perhaps I would be able to spread out for the 5 hour trip. My hopes were soon dashed though, for fifteen minutes later we stopped at a small station on the way out of Toronto and some twenty people were waiting to board the bus, some of whom had been turned away from the 9:30 AM bus, which was also full.</div><div><br /></div><div>The two high-school aged boys in front of me were part of a small group carrying instruments, and so I asked them where they were going? They said they were heading to Ottawa for a music festival. At the time I thought nothing of it, but little did I know it would soon affect my stay in Ottawa too.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-12374173578737310492010-05-17T16:48:00.000-07:002010-05-17T21:57:12.988-07:00Toronto: Full Day #2In my last post I mentioned a site called "Top 25 Things You Must Do In Toronto". I had already discovered the world's best cup of hot chocolate because of this site's recommendation, and so with great anticipation I again walked to Kensington Market this morning to take part in a culinary/history tour also recommended by the site.<br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwaTo6G1I3ZCcHCGwFuXWX4uhtMiET0ICDzE9-6kIRgJqG6k-B-H3koUTEXCMB8e9AQymuqwRIO_0IoU-W6icCSg7ZhF7v_eDO1EboNZq539jqWP99EUevWvGo4aMSl0vE2JFbMZBvWY/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwaTo6G1I3ZCcHCGwFuXWX4uhtMiET0ICDzE9-6kIRgJqG6k-B-H3koUTEXCMB8e9AQymuqwRIO_0IoU-W6icCSg7ZhF7v_eDO1EboNZq539jqWP99EUevWvGo4aMSl0vE2JFbMZBvWY/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472466196696166050" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(An old, Victorian building in Kensington Market that has had 2/4 of it remodelled during the '80s. See if you can guess which part was remodelled.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I mentioned yesterday that the streets were not as lively as I would have expected, but today being Saturday it seemed everyone was out enjoying the best area of Toronto, despite the chilly weather.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our first stop was the lovely Moonbean Coffee co., which serves a variety of exotic Fair Trade coffees and teas. Here we enjoyed some pastries from India (samosa) and Israel (rugelah), as well as a surprisingly delicious slice of vegan cranberry loaf. This was also one of the first coffee shops in Canada to sell only Fair Trade coffee, even before anyone in Alberta had even heard of the term Fair Trade.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CyLmjc5Ed16y_3BuEDzVOmUN6ZL3YJF7wMExn0DBTOwxXWLbkhkupkT-uEG-aP6sj2cLHB2JCZwzwN8SC8j3ez-hkz1HB3Cz9Aui30FTXv4OuFkHG29fM4aI_ET2hlbDm_ei3DyTaBM/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4CyLmjc5Ed16y_3BuEDzVOmUN6ZL3YJF7wMExn0DBTOwxXWLbkhkupkT-uEG-aP6sj2cLHB2JCZwzwN8SC8j3ez-hkz1HB3Cz9Aui30FTXv4OuFkHG29fM4aI_ET2hlbDm_ei3DyTaBM/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472466201088685938" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Some "ee-peas", or maybe "eep-sters" going for a stroll or drinking coffee in front of Moon Bean Coffee Co.)</div><div><br /></div><div>From here we headed to the Caribbean section of Kensington Market to pick up an amazing grapefruit drink from Jamaica called Ting. I also bought 24 bags of Jamaican cinnamon tea for $1.99, and came back later for a second bottle of Ting at only $1.25, it was that good. I also strongly suspected that the woman who owned the shop employed differential pricing - charging customers based on how much she liked them - since I'm pretty sure my box of tea was marked at $4.99, and my bottle of Ting had no price tag on it at all. Whatever the price, it would have been worth it, for as one customer told me when I was trying to decide between Ting and another 500 mL grapefruit drink for $0.66, "you can't go wrong with Ting."</div><div><br /></div><div>The tour continued on until lunch, where we stopped at a specialty cheese shop that has been around for 50 years. Customers can specify, to the gram, exactly how much of a given type of cheese they would like, and can also buy freshly made cream cheese in the same manner. My guide selected a trio of cheeses you'd never be able to find in Safeway, including a cheddar cheese marbled with maple syrup - the most Canadian of cheeses.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next we picked up a real Montreal bagel from the next door bread shop, baked by the owner who moved to Toronto from Montreal. Montreal bagels differ from "normal" bagels, in that they have larger holes and are boiled in honey water before being baked over a wood fire. We sampled the bagels with our cheeses and spreads, and it made me think that compared to freshly made cream cheese, Kraft's Philadelphia Cream Cheese is not really cream cheese at all.</div><div><br /></div><div>After some more history of the area, we finished the tour with some Middle Eastern cuisine from a Lebanese shop. This was my first time tasting humus, baba ganoush or falafel. At first the taste was quite foreign and strange, but it grew on me, and by the time I had left I had finished off the whole tray (I was the only person on the tour, so don't have to worry about the other customers).</div><div><br /></div><div>After the tour I continued to spend the rest of the afternoon checking out the other shops around the market, buying truffles and exotic teas, etc. I then made why north-east to the University of Toronto Campus, and eventually all the way to the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM), where I was enamoured with its stunning Michael Lee-Chin Crystal - a 2010 add-on to the original stone structure, creating an interesting piece of art in its own right.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorfMA-KC01TjJUKqAR5i_blRPh8uWFGWUHP4X9-g_vlsxHbM0It25A_6MeKwQit6ApmwuQdHClRBOdv5u_GsDXkVMA9EOqZMbBHmOne-r7prZwvUjbwGjEqJV98ke8uMcFMoyosK7Ink/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorfMA-KC01TjJUKqAR5i_blRPh8uWFGWUHP4X9-g_vlsxHbM0It25A_6MeKwQit6ApmwuQdHClRBOdv5u_GsDXkVMA9EOqZMbBHmOne-r7prZwvUjbwGjEqJV98ke8uMcFMoyosK7Ink/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472466205333395634" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The Michael Lee-Chin Crystal is also too big to fit in the picture.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought I had only stayed in Kensington Market until 2 PM, but when I got to the ROM I was told it was 4:45, and that the museum would be closing in 45 minutes (I don't have a watch, so I can't tell the time when I'm walking around). I wasn't too worried though, since I can add the ROM and AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario) to my itinerary when I'm in Toronto for a whole day on my way to Vancouver next week.</div><div><br /></div><div>From here I took a relaxing stroll back through the tranquil Queen's Park, enjoying the numerous trails that branch out like veins on a leaf, and the cool shade of the leafy trees. Queen's Park not only serves as a park behind the Ontario Legislature, but also as a "green area" for the students of The University of Toronto. Granted, it seems impossible to find any part of the UofT campus not disturbed by public roadways that make the UofA's bus lane look like a walking path. However, when compared to UofA's absolutely pathetic "Quad", Queen's Park more than makes up for it.</div><div><br /></div><div>By now I was quite a ways away from my hostel, and so I had quite a trip to make. When I did get home I washed my first load of laundry since leaving Grande Prairie, since my suitcase was running out of clean outfits. </div><div><br /></div><div>While I waited for my laundry I noticed that an old, single screen theatre on Bloor Street (think the Gaiety in down town Grande Prairie, but with three levels of seating... and movies). was showing the new Korean film by Bong Joon-ho - the creator/director of "The Host", one of my favourite Korean films.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hadn't made any Korean friends at the hostel, so I took a gamble and asked my Japanese roommate if he wanted to go for some ddeokbokki in Little Korea, and then watch the film with me. To my surprise he said he liked Korean food and would join me. Apparently, while Koreans really despise Japan, The Japanese don't really care about Korea. It's more or less the same dynamic as the "rivalry" between the U.S. and Canada.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sadly, the ddeokbokki had been slightly de-spiced for the Canadian market, and the movie wasn't quite as exciting as The Host, or its "Visceral and deftly plotted... Fully worthy of its primal title" review (J. Hoberman, Village Voice) would lead one to believe. However, it was a chance to support an independent movie theatre bravely importing a Korean film, not to mention practice my Korean on the owners of the restaurant, which brought back fond memories.... That's it! I'm going back to Korea some day.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-60799463449988856422010-05-16T19:30:00.000-07:002010-05-22T20:28:17.140-07:00Toronto: Full Day #1Before I came to Toronto I made a list of things I wanted to do whilst in the city. While I do this for every place I visit, it's rare that nearly all of the places I want to visit are in roughly the same place. This is yet another reason to love Toronto.<br /><div><br /></div><div>The day's sight seeing started off with a walk all the way up the famous Yonge Street - famous because I had actually heard of it before. I turned west on College Street, and walked past the Legislative Building, and the edge of the University of Toronto campus, where I stopped for lunch at Frankie's hot dog stand. I wasn't planning on buying any hot dogs, but the guy's name was Frankie, and he had a Brooklyn accent, so how could I not? Frankie prepared a massive ten-inch long Italian Sausage for me, and I sat and ate it on some steps while tiny birds hopped around me waiting for crumbs to drop.</div><div><br /></div><div>From here I continued west on College Street until I hit Spadina Ave, where I turned south to explore Chinatown. Ironically, most of the restaurants in Chinatown seemed to be Vietnamese, or some other Asian variety other than Chinese. The real Chinese businessmen were instead concentrating on selling products like "Sweet Mangos" from Mexico, that weren't very sweet, for slightly less than standard price. From Chinatown I turned down a side street to explore the Kensington Market area.</div><div><br /></div><div>My French roommate told me that Kensington Market was one of his favourite areas, and that it was full of "ee-peas" (hippies). At first I just noticed colourful, re-painted Victorian-era houses, but no hippies. Then I noticed that I had turned down the wrong street.</div><div><br /></div><div>The real Kensington Market was originally supposed to be a suburb for rich Englishmen, but those plans fell through when no one bought the mansions, and so the developers turned the large lots into ten mini-houses all attached together - a "deca-plex"? - and turned the buildings into the original "affordable housing" units. Later, the area became a Jewish neighbourhood, and finally it made the transformation into an eclectic "ee-pea" market in the '60s. In 2006 it even became a National Historic Site of Canada.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmLfi2dQ86__M6sj1txJs5lS79nQRkHTZ64U3H2YFTH7RpZ3fIJUcVtm0CGbaz1iL4K2QBxG-EP66M1NUGbE44xf1H494eguCxle4sGjSKXRPa3TMWrDFCqGeCJtdQwahNph7M2ZLHf4/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnmLfi2dQ86__M6sj1txJs5lS79nQRkHTZ64U3H2YFTH7RpZ3fIJUcVtm0CGbaz1iL4K2QBxG-EP66M1NUGbE44xf1H494eguCxle4sGjSKXRPa3TMWrDFCqGeCJtdQwahNph7M2ZLHf4/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472220980836181842" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(This bike shop wasn't in Kensington Market, but it should have been.)</div><div><br /></div><div>While this was apparently the first sunny day all week in Toronto, it was still a Friday afternoon, and so the streets were not as full as I would have thought. Tomorrow will be Saturday, and I will come back to see the area at its best.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzjYkV7wMu1SMv-ttpfKU34na9lVlQJ9Rm-kR8nUo0y9Atcu3DF450ySAH2koGvUI5nAxsdNKOyE1bqb0QiEJzGqdoOUWDcw77zgb-DuJUBM2q6gyEBXhJLg157S-6-Ki43YAhXYXZ-s/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzjYkV7wMu1SMv-ttpfKU34na9lVlQJ9Rm-kR8nUo0y9Atcu3DF450ySAH2koGvUI5nAxsdNKOyE1bqb0QiEJzGqdoOUWDcw77zgb-DuJUBM2q6gyEBXhJLg157S-6-Ki43YAhXYXZ-s/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472220989383738786" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Torontonians relaxing and enjoying the incredible weather in Grange Park, down town, behind AGO.)</div><div><br /></div><div>From Kensington Market I started to walk south towards the CN Tower, but stopped in to check out the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) along the way. It was only about 2:30 PM at this time, but I was told the gallery took about 4-5 hours to peruse, even at a quick pace, and that the gallery closed at 5:30 PM. Furthermore, I needed to get to a chocolate shop called SOMAs to taste what I was told was the world's best hot chocolate (I love hot chocolate).</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually I did make it to the CN Tower, and did my duty as a tourist to ride what must be one of the fastest elevators ever invented. (See below for a video of the ride up all 147 stories.)</div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy-J3as5nA6atRyCmQKmhR1FASZuyyoFrndM192mreITsVEz7rawQ_eiWdM4pyEd4buNmFmBlJyWJ8adKJPxQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhThvzl9yNu7CJXo7YBIic-CEY2bQPbCFsbzHVzxdMjUcojdoqatdBTS7FjXRRq4F3ymS2SXqpmR4GFkqXDZ1-QERzFdNWmA5dwag2jWvgKoTLqJ_g0vnnFBtWl7IKAbK5_ZFYYSgFX5t0/s1600/Image00012.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhThvzl9yNu7CJXo7YBIic-CEY2bQPbCFsbzHVzxdMjUcojdoqatdBTS7FjXRRq4F3ymS2SXqpmR4GFkqXDZ1-QERzFdNWmA5dwag2jWvgKoTLqJ_g0vnnFBtWl7IKAbK5_ZFYYSgFX5t0/s320/Image00012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472221444287729426" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54rytBzwz6GFKCJYYjgfJkHyIMCCiP4FCU-PfSuWjYTq3iykUY7PfquBZqB3yz8anPBQ9MwiqQurzuCJWatK-qfgmBKnlpa35RYBeoCACr3Ug0_Md897iXnRuGrfFMKy6wZo-YoIsaKQ/s1600/Image00013.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54rytBzwz6GFKCJYYjgfJkHyIMCCiP4FCU-PfSuWjYTq3iykUY7PfquBZqB3yz8anPBQ9MwiqQurzuCJWatK-qfgmBKnlpa35RYBeoCACr3Ug0_Md897iXnRuGrfFMKy6wZo-YoIsaKQ/s320/Image00013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472221451810897138" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Toronto's CN Tower during the day and night.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0aQdePUnVKv1aSGv2U-oKD8m0iJxtqciqRVXbB9P86YOem5Uqevin0gDWMyp9xS3sc_-MDPbFTgZmHStu9ISzSo72yoNXssGD7s7J1fI-w5RyyY5HVM7AN7wmGnYeS-lGpbR2TYHDrI4/s1600/Image00009.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0aQdePUnVKv1aSGv2U-oKD8m0iJxtqciqRVXbB9P86YOem5Uqevin0gDWMyp9xS3sc_-MDPbFTgZmHStu9ISzSo72yoNXssGD7s7J1fI-w5RyyY5HVM7AN7wmGnYeS-lGpbR2TYHDrI4/s320/Image00009.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472220995628193154" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Looking down at Toronto, 500 metres below me, through the Glass Floor.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8y8_itSmI_p4MQoD8YXINgqdRpT9YxOig5Rb1ndtJgQvrx_DGuTPCAFRlXFUuMeyOupvfKLiW3Yav3vzk5tbcqRKbJvkDKYaxelIZAdVcHTouH_Fca-7f_5LbN6SfXXKDZwuo2UugLmo/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8y8_itSmI_p4MQoD8YXINgqdRpT9YxOig5Rb1ndtJgQvrx_DGuTPCAFRlXFUuMeyOupvfKLiW3Yav3vzk5tbcqRKbJvkDKYaxelIZAdVcHTouH_Fca-7f_5LbN6SfXXKDZwuo2UugLmo/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472224707448048050" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Looking down at SkyDome from the CN Tower.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUoIwh8rPRCkJ3q26cutdKFvvLEXDPqvB7VHxV6Y5w7nzh3KB99OHBLqa84ic0IbeZAM7kOXOtNqdzw6Ucf5Jgww-48-0oCowZoPJrtgHk-p_K0bMvQ2StFYYRRu3V6BXsufaNkr_RoyE/s1600/Image00011.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUoIwh8rPRCkJ3q26cutdKFvvLEXDPqvB7VHxV6Y5w7nzh3KB99OHBLqa84ic0IbeZAM7kOXOtNqdzw6Ucf5Jgww-48-0oCowZoPJrtgHk-p_K0bMvQ2StFYYRRu3V6BXsufaNkr_RoyE/s320/Image00011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472221444918634322" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Looking up at CN Tower from inside SkyDome.)</div><div><br /></div><div>SOMA is located in another National Historic Site area of Toronto called The Distillery District. As the name suggests it used to house an old whiskey distillery, but ten years ago it was transformed into an eclectic collection of small art galleries, bakeries, what I assume are "artsy" restaurants, and of course SOMA.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWjliX5FbRAzmHmBEOhkvqjijhonxgRIdRXD1HZr9bGjQf3dmi1a-CXEaRJIqvXWFNG17N_Oo1HBDqpz6E3w74kJ17tZUaGegJVHhmyFw2EYbR_bDSBU_83fVx3fCVPV74IA4LFGAObSI/s1600/Image00010.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWjliX5FbRAzmHmBEOhkvqjijhonxgRIdRXD1HZr9bGjQf3dmi1a-CXEaRJIqvXWFNG17N_Oo1HBDqpz6E3w74kJ17tZUaGegJVHhmyFw2EYbR_bDSBU_83fVx3fCVPV74IA4LFGAObSI/s320/Image00010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472220998858963282" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Some art? In The Distillery District of Old Toronto.)</div><div><br /></div><div>SOMA is what I am prepared to call the world's best chocolate factory; or at least the best I've been to so far. The chocolate is prepared on site from imported Fair Trade, organic cocoa beans (oh no! I've caught The "Ee-pea"), and then used to make delicious drinks and treats. I had been urged to try one of SOMA's famous hot chocolates by Tourism Toronto's "Top 25 Things You Must Do In Toronto" web page, and I never knew that I didn't know hot chocolate could so incredible.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had ordered a regular dark chocolate hot chocolate called "The Dark Side of the Mug," but I think I was given the "Spicy Mama" hot chocolate instead. I was not worried at all though, because it turns out the Spicy Mama is the best hot chocolate ever invented. It contains dark Peruvian chocolate, melted, and mixed with chili peppers, Madagascar vanilla, ginger, and orange peel; in short, it's a real zinger.</div><div><br /></div><div>Since I was now in Old Toronto, I decided to visit the St. Lawrence Market to see if I could find some fresh fruit actually grown in Ontario. I didn't make it in time to catch the farmers at the Farmer's Market though, so I stopped in at another Mediterranean fast food restaurant to have a gyro (lamb and beef) pizza instead.</div><div><br /></div><div>The man working at the restaurant told me he had been working in Edmonton for two months, but "couldn't take it any longer" than that before he just had to move back to Toronto, even though he could not find a full-time job there. I told him I had lived in Edmonton for four years, and upon hearing this he appeared to become very ill and looked like he was going to throw up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Up to this point, it should be obvious that I had done a lot of walking around the Toronto Core, and so I feel qualified to say that this area of Toronto is a great walking city. I've yet to visit Montreal or Vancouver, and so I will hold off calling it the best walking city, but it must definitely be in the top-three; it even has bike lanes! (For my readers in Grande Prairie, a bike lane is a section, or "lane", of the main road that has been reserved for commuters riding bicycles, and is a sign of a progressive city.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAzxo1ijVNoytIAqsbIWfW3OLmo9uFTVm82UhmILuOQpv0kg2HAZed2Vf1riiVnBY0eh860VAqxKxuMHOdpO4YS6XyD8zo6CyhOdVb72OOPsSYoLENmMkL4cz7iUs5kSW_akjcPlyzWoQ/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAzxo1ijVNoytIAqsbIWfW3OLmo9uFTVm82UhmILuOQpv0kg2HAZed2Vf1riiVnBY0eh860VAqxKxuMHOdpO4YS6XyD8zo6CyhOdVb72OOPsSYoLENmMkL4cz7iUs5kSW_akjcPlyzWoQ/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472217366657681730" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Toronto also has street trolleys.)</div><div><br /></div><div>In my travels this day I must have crossed at least 200 intersections, yet I can count the number of times I had to wait more than twenty seconds to cross any one of them on the fingers of my two hands. Furthermore, even at night, down town Toronto feels incredibly safe. And despite what Alberta students are taught in school, Torontonians are very friendly. As I mentioned in my last post, I had a number of friendly interactions with people on the street, and it should be noted that even the shop keepers and employees in Toronto are friendly. The nineteen year-olds working behind the counters of some of said shops even do actual work, and don't just stand there "texting". But I digress...</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr9NZB5bnB3tHw4kj4DbiWQ_CPTwy-FqahW8ID3QtBYio8lkAYielPMnfaXBvpgN0FysybjdN3bc86J7Xp1DxP5NXZ7l9S3ZsMRQjW9LB0bsSZ-7T52ob-NwMCdGKIFekQW3sRbuxiuS0/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr9NZB5bnB3tHw4kj4DbiWQ_CPTwy-FqahW8ID3QtBYio8lkAYielPMnfaXBvpgN0FysybjdN3bc86J7Xp1DxP5NXZ7l9S3ZsMRQjW9LB0bsSZ-7T52ob-NwMCdGKIFekQW3sRbuxiuS0/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472217375571844338" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xMJiOGa7uGZ27wZ7xqQDI7KfKLcqIn8DI4JnuyNbETZHjDUpOTYTfHYFDUU7AMEt1FUSsK2WPaHHuQV3zi3ngjLW4_yqy-lrRUB4TQgac7zDJjLDnc6QGK0UopOzqvPju8S46wDV32A/s1600/Image00005.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xMJiOGa7uGZ27wZ7xqQDI7KfKLcqIn8DI4JnuyNbETZHjDUpOTYTfHYFDUU7AMEt1FUSsK2WPaHHuQV3zi3ngjLW4_yqy-lrRUB4TQgac7zDJjLDnc6QGK0UopOzqvPju8S46wDV32A/s320/Image00005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472217388459191090" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4L0pHxEeaaWN74SOqTAjazDMdez80dB4ZP14-UtA1fYlsjlaOowWSW9Js_K7Gq4bG3x3-8EAsklUNqOqlWt_JKXEA3vMuG8PJcBjXLbItUkLELC01nOr57-MVeemvBPpPd8qgngAEuLM/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4L0pHxEeaaWN74SOqTAjazDMdez80dB4ZP14-UtA1fYlsjlaOowWSW9Js_K7Gq4bG3x3-8EAsklUNqOqlWt_JKXEA3vMuG8PJcBjXLbItUkLELC01nOr57-MVeemvBPpPd8qgngAEuLM/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472217383661198994" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisft0b3pr7ldF5UrXwginvmYYeJ4fgiQjaKQxF1Sr2sru6iO5detJgSo0aWN0KNT9m_DqR8ysIEP-MXdW6mH4CopyLPHqhJvCcZ1jUJvRD4b3Avp8aPI9fwbPegAxTTEwfM8-JLcSX_kg/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisft0b3pr7ldF5UrXwginvmYYeJ4fgiQjaKQxF1Sr2sru6iO5detJgSo0aWN0KNT9m_DqR8ysIEP-MXdW6mH4CopyLPHqhJvCcZ1jUJvRD4b3Avp8aPI9fwbPegAxTTEwfM8-JLcSX_kg/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472217379252365218" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisft0b3pr7ldF5UrXwginvmYYeJ4fgiQjaKQxF1Sr2sru6iO5detJgSo0aWN0KNT9m_DqR8ysIEP-MXdW6mH4CopyLPHqhJvCcZ1jUJvRD4b3Avp8aPI9fwbPegAxTTEwfM8-JLcSX_kg/s1600/Image00003.jpg"></a>(Even the graffiti artists have a sense of humour. The "Post No Bills" Sign was painted on this construction barrier by the City of Toronto. The "Bills" were added on afterwards.)<br /><div><br /></div><div>After finishing my pizza I rushed back home to grab my jacket, and then raced over to the SkyDome (now called The Rogers Centre) to watch the Toronto Blue Jays play the Texas Rangers.</div><div><br /></div><div>I expected the stadium to be packed, but there could not have been more than 10 000 fans in attendance- the stadium holds 50 000 - so it created an odd empty sensation, what with entire sections empty. Regardless, I was determined to enjoy this rare experience, and there was a small section of drunk fans a few rows over who provided some extra entertainment with their boisterous, if not always coherent cheering.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I arrived at my seat at the top of the 2nd Inning, the score was already 3-3 and I feared I had missed all the scoring. I needn't have worried though, for no sooner had I sat down in my seat than the Rangers scored, and then scored again and again and again until they were up 9-3.</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point, some guy behind me proclaimed the game to be "over", but in the bottom of the 3rd Inning the blue jays scored 8 runs to take the lead, 11-9. By the bottom of the 4th Inning the score was 15-10, and I wondered if I was not actually watching a CFL game. </div><div><br /></div><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx9OG3Gqsi-wRlZ9H-q1lylg3TXVydg4XWP2bavMhN2MdqsmnCxKXr2yH5J7jplmYsMQFda8QXv4xzlc8XgYA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>(3-run home run in the third inning to start the come back. I can't believe I actually caught this on video.)</div><div><br /></div><div>By the end of the 6th Inning the score was still 15-10, but the time was 9:45 PM, so I left back home. As if this had not already been a memorable day/night, on the way home I came across no less than ten Torontonians coming back from watching the NHL Playoffs at the bars, but wearing Montreal Canadiens jerseys. It was such a break from tradition that the local papers had pictures of it all over their front pages.</div><div><br /></div><div>It appears then as though we have been poorly misinformed about Torontonians, and Toronto in general, in the rest of Canada. In the small section where I walked, it seems Toronto is a lovely city, and one which every Canadian should visit at least once. I'll be back to Toronto for one day on my trip back across Canada to Vancouver, and this thought gives me a fizzy feeling inside. </div><div><br /></div><div>Toronto's Core: don't knock it 'til you try it. (For those of you who have already tried it, you can knock it all you want, and I probably will too after I've been to Montreal and Vancouver.) Note: I only went up to Bloor St. I hear north of that is a "no-go" area for the hip, happening people.</div></div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-5721855874435911522010-05-16T16:23:00.000-07:002010-06-22T08:07:28.386-07:00Winnipeg to Toronto: Over 2000 KMs, 32 HoursI had planned to wake up early this morning in order to find a Tim Horton's at which to buy breakfast, but even though I had set my alarm the night before I'd forgotten to turn it "on," and so I woke up with just enough time to shower, dry off with my tiny sports towel I received as a gift from Choi in Korea, and eat yesterday's left over dinner from the hostel's next-door hippie vegetarian pub. Eating supper for breakfast and drying off with a tiny towel made me feel like I was back in Korea again.<br /><div><br /></div><div>After my shower I cleared the sheets off my bed, and was in the process of taking them downstairs to be thrown in the "to be washed" bin, but an Aussie staffer (it's a hostel, so it has to have an Aussie working in it) told me that I could just leave them in the room because the hostel was "self-catering" (I'm not sure he knows what self-catering means).</div><div><br /></div><div>The bus to the airport - where the Greyhound depot is - was packed, and so I felt a bit guilty for taking up two seats with all of my luggage, but I distracted myself from my shame by looking at the pretty, old houses along the way, and the stunning Manitoba Legislative Building. Along the way I also got to overhear a busker explaining to his mother (he must have been visiting her in Winnipeg) how to work the streets at the right time in order to make money more efficiently.</div><div><br /></div><div>Up until now, the buses on which I had been travelling were relatively empty, and most of the passengers could take an entire row to themselves. However, the line-up for this bus to Toronto was so long that the security check before boarding took over over half an hour. (Yes, they have security checks on buses now.) It goes without saying that it was hard finding a free seat.</div><div><br /></div><div>The trip to the Ontario border did not take too long, and shortly thereafter we entered the Canadian Shield and came to the stunning Lake of the Woods near Kenora - made even more stunning by having travelled past nothing but grass for the last two days. It was also in Kenora that I bought a hot chocolate at a Tim Horton's for the first time since leaving Alberta.</div><div><br /></div><div>Later, in Dryden, I became sick of eating rest stop food, so I found a supermarket and bought a giant bag of apples. I noticed that people in Dryden eat the same fruit that we do in Alberta (BC fruit), but that their fruit comes from much further away. After eating a vegetarian meal the night before I must have caught "The Hippie", because I searched through the entire fruit stand until I finally came across the only Ontario grown piece of fruit there - some Ambrosia apples from Eastern Ontario.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAmSLrN39SvmajftnEaKZpQsPwNkULy7FOSkljdgivXgvIThbd3zdoaLiRtKaEQ2Ivn5peSuQyeQDprC20XDkEGwrNUjanYEgKCQRvp7YFAvHmh4dyRzwqFVmDLapUW1p_FdZGRLVzLtI/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAmSLrN39SvmajftnEaKZpQsPwNkULy7FOSkljdgivXgvIThbd3zdoaLiRtKaEQ2Ivn5peSuQyeQDprC20XDkEGwrNUjanYEgKCQRvp7YFAvHmh4dyRzwqFVmDLapUW1p_FdZGRLVzLtI/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472059912872710738" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Tow Mater in Dryden.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0WWFTA6J9HoOfUCrcuQBK0yH7PW6v8_ReoT407nhwLUGm_LAfGnoEmT5kuKNhKaT2fwIDwfx2xCYHthHuIBP_ftfbKqNwSxWX5NGm_8dChFYatoD5XHyoGOzn32Ey1n87JyJqdP0s2g/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0WWFTA6J9HoOfUCrcuQBK0yH7PW6v8_ReoT407nhwLUGm_LAfGnoEmT5kuKNhKaT2fwIDwfx2xCYHthHuIBP_ftfbKqNwSxWX5NGm_8dChFYatoD5XHyoGOzn32Ey1n87JyJqdP0s2g/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472059917607156786" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Its comforting to know that this restroom is not running out of toilet paper any time soon.)</div><div><br /></div><div>We travelled deeper into Ontario, and just as the sun was setting we came to Lake Superior. From here on we'd be travelling in the dark, but I was spared at least some boredom when my neighbour invited me to watch a movie with her on her laptop. </div><div><br /></div><div>I thought <i>I</i> was on a long journey, but my neighbour, Angel, was travelling from Vancouver to Montreal on the Greyhound, and was currently on a three day stretch from Regina, Saskatchewan, to London, Ontario. Later, the person sitting behind me said he had hitch-hiked across Canada five times, and one time even made the journey in five days (faster than the Greyhound). He was also on a trip across the country.</div><div><br /></div><div>At 11:30 PM, we pulled into Schreiber, and had a short rest at the Two Rooms Cafe (I can't remember the exact name, but it had Two Rooms in it somewhere). The elderly couple that owned the small restaurant had stayed up all night to cook a pizza for our bus, which I thought was exceptionally nice, but I was suffering fruit withdrawals, so just ate three of my apples instead.</div><div><br /></div><div>After an awful, neck-breaking "sleep", I arose to see the sun just coming up over the horizon near Timberland. With the long, thin, wind-swept clouds radiating out from the red sun, it looked like the flag of old, Imperial Japan.</div><div><br /></div><div>Five minutes later we reached Sault Ste. Marie, right on the U.S. border with Michigan, and I was dazzled by its charming three-storey red brick houses with white, painted wood "fire escape" ladders on the side. A roommate at the hostel in Toronto told me "that's why everyone says <i>there's something about The </i><i>Sault</i>."</div><div><br /></div><div>At Blind River, I jumped out of the bus to take a picture of Lake Huron. The busker I met on the Winnipeg city bus had apparently been travelling on the same Greyhound as me, and he told me that this was the place Neil Young wrote about in the song Long May You Run.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSm8gmCUc1KtHoJKwUSNLinZDUKKM777czGnhl_oNTRNK6kmhx4nx_WwahVDDoDTPqxIB6j1LHRKT11p5i6xJtY2r1TdkuVBuWM6q5kQzB5l48hVZccZMdFlumzEr4jLeJklU4bmTPEc/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSm8gmCUc1KtHoJKwUSNLinZDUKKM777czGnhl_oNTRNK6kmhx4nx_WwahVDDoDTPqxIB6j1LHRKT11p5i6xJtY2r1TdkuVBuWM6q5kQzB5l48hVZccZMdFlumzEr4jLeJklU4bmTPEc/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472059922823325538" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The Mighty Huron, as viewed from Blind River.)</div><div><br /></div><div>While I had been enamoured with the beauty and character of Sault Ste. Marie, the same cannot be said about Sudbury, where we passed through later. Angel used to live in this region, and told me that Sudbury was just a large work town. I know all about work towns, and so I vowed never to come back.</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point, the "local bus" on which we had been travelling turned into an express bus, but we still had another five hours to travel in order to reach Toronto. Here I feel it must be said that Albertans tend to pride themselves on their ability to drive long distances of ten hours or more in a single day, but the sheer expanse of Ontario is nothing but humbling and will send even the most hardened of Albertan travellers home with his (or her) tail between his legs.</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, at 6:12 PM, on Thursday (we left on Wednesday), we pulled into the coach terminal in downtown Toronto.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, as an Albertan, I am trained from birth to be suspicious (jealous?) of Toronto and Torontonians in general, which is putting it perhaps too nicely. However, on the walk home I was helped by no less than three strangers, which left me to wonder if I had perhaps gotten off the bus in the wrong city.</div><div><br /></div><div>After settling in at my hostel and greeting my roommates, I took my first shower in two days and tried to find a restaurant.</div><div><br /></div><div>If I had been in Calgary now I could have walked around downtown for two hours without finding even so much as a coffee shop, but this is Toronto, and so two blocks from the hostel I walked in to a Greek restaurant, at which the owner gave me way too much delicious food for my money and urged me to sample all of his food before taking my order.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow I will explore the city more, and perhaps attend a Toronto Blue Jays baseball game. For now though, I look forward to my first decent sleep in 48 hours.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-23011132183034244432010-05-11T23:08:00.000-07:002010-05-11T23:38:08.401-07:00Regina, Saskatchewan to Winnipeg, Manitoba; 566 KM, 9 Hours<div>I woke up at 6:00 AM excited about the next leg of my journey, although now that I've finished it I'm not sure why. Whereas the first leg of my journey to get to Regina was much longer, it was broken up into three distinct sections: the trip from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Grande</span> Prairie to Edmonton, Edmonton to Saskatoon, and then Saskatoon to Regina. This part of the journey was only a small hop of 566 km, but because I was taking the "local bus" through all of the small towns, the trip ended up taking 9 hours, and consisted of basically nothing but Saskatchewan prairies. I shouldn't be too harsh on Saskatchewan though, for after riding through the wheat fields for over ten hours they have grown on me, as has the province itself.</div><div><br /></div><div>I once considered Saskatchewan the most boring province in Canada (I haven't been to PEI yet), but while there may not be much to "do" or "see" there, that is missing the point. Perhaps because there isn't that much in Saskatchewan by which to get distracted the people are more interested in one another, and as I've mentioned before I noticed a strong sense of community even in Regina, the province's second largest city. (Note: I've since been told that I am wrong about Regina, but in my defence I was staying in "the good area" around the University, so I can only rate what I saw.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Before I continue on with my journey I would like to commend the Saskatchewan Transit Company (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">STC</span>) bus station on being a first rate facility, with by far the friendliest staff I've come across in any of my travels on buses in Canada. Furthermore, I enjoyed my ride with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">STC</span> bus company - free <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Wi</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Fi</span> on the bus! - and would urge anyone travelling in Saskatchewan to employ its service over the Greyhound's whenever possible. Furthermore, If you're a senior citizen your ticket is only $10, and I believe students ride for about $16. But now back to the trip...</div><div><br /></div><div>Our bus was scheduled to depart Regina for Winnipeg at 10:30 AM, but we were not allowed to even board the bus until 10:45. At 10:55 AM we finally rolled out of the station with the first scheduled break not until 4:30 PM in Brandon, Manitoba.</div><div><br /></div><div>Point of interest alert: Shortly after leaving Regina we came to the tiny town of Indian Head, which is where the CBC TV show "Little Mosque on the Prairie" is filmed. Having only watched the show once or twice, I couldn't recognize anything of significance in the town that would have clued me in to its fame. I did, however, notice a grain elevator which I thought I should photograph since Grain Elevator Granny was gone, and had a huge head start on her collection on me.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTyoF4QrSV_dT3WUGHsW_p27ZJ3Vst2qks37OBEVxEJaPxNpVHm7FdWgIJjRnUPp_YzBOWODCSHSoamtf6I3nxU2rUXiLni4VmeJjR-y9xgf2vwfHdjuSJyFdtKgJXfW7ArJITDzpUBc/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTyoF4QrSV_dT3WUGHsW_p27ZJ3Vst2qks37OBEVxEJaPxNpVHm7FdWgIJjRnUPp_YzBOWODCSHSoamtf6I3nxU2rUXiLni4VmeJjR-y9xgf2vwfHdjuSJyFdtKgJXfW7ArJITDzpUBc/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470267373393358866" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>In fact, I've now taken up the "Grain Elevator Challenge" and will create a blog to showcase my grain elevator pictures, as well as those from any readers who would like to contribute their grain elevator photos to the cause. My efforts have not gone unnoticed either; a rather kind fellow from Newfoundland travelling beside me commented that he should have brought his camera along so that he could document the journey as well.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I've mentioned before, Saskatchewan is as flat and as yellow as all the jokes make it out to be. And as the bus neared and then crossed into Manitoba it was almost as though the grass instantly started to become a little greener, and the gaps between the trees fewer and smaller in distance. And then, just as we reached the outskirts of Brandon, a small hill appeared and I felt like cheering.</div><div><br /></div><div>One exceptional point to be made about Manitoba is how low the telephone poles are, especially those alongside the railroad tracks. Without embellishing in any way, I would say that the lines next to the highway are less than half the height of those found anywhere in Alberta. </div><div>Petrol Price Update: It's official; Saskatchewan is a province of pinko socialists. The price of regular gasoline was a standard $1.079/L everywhere in the province right up until the border of Manitoba, where it immediately dropped to $1.039/L. A little while later in Brandon it was down to $0.969/L, and even as low as $0.949 in Portage la Prairie. Later however, it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">crept</span>back up to $0.989 in Winnipeg, but I'm not sure why.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was hoping to be able to walk to the hostel from the bus depot in Winnipeg, but a new depot had been built at the airport, and so I had to take a bus into town. Despite the questionable judgement of Greyhound for building the terminal at the airport (poor people don't fly, do they?, so why would they need the Greyhound to go to the airport?) I enjoyed the bus ride home and every stop was called out by a fairly low quality digitalised approximation of a woman's voice. This reminds me of my time in Seoul, where not only were the stops called out/displayed on the LED board in the bus, but at major stops a board informed waiting passengers of how long they should wait until their next bus comes. Interestingly enough, the buses themselves are exactly the same kind of buses used in Edmonton, Alberta (I recognize them from my University days).</div><div><br /></div><div>The neatest part of the trip so far has to be meeting my room-mate for tonight, George. George is a naturalised New <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Zealand citizen</span> who is basically mirroring my cross-Canada trip, but ending up in Newfoundland. He has also been up to Dawson City, Yukon via <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Grande</span> Prairie, so he knew about my home town, which is also neat. The most interesting part about George though is that he is rich. He owns 12 bridal stores world-wide, not including 8 more in New Zealand. In a fort-night's time he will be opening another store in London. Despite all of this money, he says he travels in hostels because this is how he can meet real people.</div><div><br /></div><div>In one of the biggest coincidences since I met a fellow <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Grande</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Prairian</span> in a hostel in Scotland, it turns out that George had actually been staying in the Regina hostel with me, in the same room even. However, because he didn't get in until after I had gone to bed, and then left just before I rose in the morning, we didn't know it. We're also travelling in the same direction and in a few nights from now we will both be in the HI-Toronto hostel at the same time. If I see him again, I will make sure to make note of it here.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now it's time for me to get to bed. Tune in next time for more daring adventures, more funny stories, more petrol prices, more Three Times A Canadian.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4729161973385978402.post-25483912010126250692010-05-10T14:52:00.000-07:002010-05-11T08:16:50.663-07:00Grande Prairie, Alberta to Regina, Saskatchewan; 1230 km, 16.5 hoursOn Sunday, May 9, 2010, the same day on which I finally arrived home after a 30 hour journey from Edinburgh Scotland, I said good-bye to my family and set out on Leg 1 of an eleven day journey to reach Halifax by bus and train.<div><br /></div><div>Greyhound's advertising claims that its drivers are the friendliest in the world, but our driver was anything but. It seemed he only knew one answer for any question. Would you like to know what time the bus leaves? Or if there is time to go to the toilet? Or if you can get something from your bag quickly? Well, you won't find out the answer from the driver, because he only knows how to bark "do you want on the bus or not?" Nevertheless, we made it to Edmonton in a super fast (for the Greyhound) five hours, fifteen minutes.</div><div><br /></div><div>From Edmonton I boarded a bus to Saskatoon that I will dub the Granny Express, since the front half of the bus was filled entirely with elderly women going to Saskatchewan (and me). I felt a bit uncomfortable since I was easily the youngest person on the bus by 40 years, but I heard many interesting stories about what various grand children were doing, and also one of the funniest comments ever, from one of the travellers after leaving the terminal which had been hitherto playing soft rock: "I'm glad to get out of there and all that raucous music."</div><div><br /></div><div>From Edmonton my new bus headed East to Saskatoon on a route I knew well, since I used to have many relatives in Saskatoon, and would make the journey regularly as a child while on family vacations. However, I must have been too young to appreciate that the route passed Elk Island National Park, and I was thrilled to see a number of elk and a couple of bison grazing along the fence near the highway.</div><div><br /></div><div>From here I slept all the way until <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Lloydminster</span>, which I thought was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Vermillion</span> until I saw "David's Place", and remembered instantly the diner/souvenir shop, a visit to which was a Murray Family tradition growing up.</div><div><br /></div><div>What I didn't remember was that downtown <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Lloydminster</span> looks exactly like downtown <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Grande</span> Prairie. The old buildings look the same, and the new buildings have the same ugly colour scheme all the new buildings in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Grande</span> Prairie have too (see The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Grande</span> Prairie Inn for an example). Even the side walks are void of people, like those in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Grande</span> Prairie, because nobody wants to be in the depressing environment.</div><div><br /></div><div>Shortly after leaving <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Lloydminster</span>, we stopped in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Lashburn</span>, Saskatchewan to let off one of the grandmas at a service station. Another granny got off to take a picture of a grain elevator across the highway. She said they were all being torn out and soon there wouldn't be any grain elevators left, so she takes a pictures of every grain elevator she meets on her travels, and has a collection of over 35 000 pictures on her computer at home. After hearing this, I thought I should get to work on my own collection and so took a photograph for myself.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj04-rXC0AOsYcG_a9tF7N7iaT3T0DeEkhGG6RzwtpCwNemHkXVyeRpbJk8BZcoaepxIy6RJZiaomwU9kFTNvju4CVmrrXAf5pgXrcHEPtLe0XuaMNDDu8zaXaWopHb6fAsrw2c3n1kkw/s1600/Image00001.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj04-rXC0AOsYcG_a9tF7N7iaT3T0DeEkhGG6RzwtpCwNemHkXVyeRpbJk8BZcoaepxIy6RJZiaomwU9kFTNvju4CVmrrXAf5pgXrcHEPtLe0XuaMNDDu8zaXaWopHb6fAsrw2c3n1kkw/s320/Image00001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470022518990524818" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>In North <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Battleford</span> I was disappointed to see that the outdoor water park I had always told myself I would one day visit was gone. I did have the unique opportunity to sit in front of a man who snored while he was awake, though.</div><div><br /></div><div>On a new segment of the blog I will call "gas price update", let it be known that on this date, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Saskatchies (my new name for people from Saskatchewan)</span> are paying $1.07/Litre; it doesn't seem to matter if you are in a rural area or Saskatoon either, since it's all the same price... socialists.</div><div><br /></div><div>The bus rolled into the station in Saskatoon at 12:55 PM. At 1:00 PM I was told I couldn't get on the bus with my Discovery Pass, because the trip from Saskatoon to Regina was on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">STC</span> bus line, and Greyhound does not reimburse them for the cost of carrying me. This is a problem I had encountered before, and it makes it literally impossible to travel the entire length of the country with a Discovery Pass, which in my opinion is the whole point of the Discover Pass in the first place. However, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Phileas</span> Murray knows that money solves all problems, and so I just "threw" $42.42 at the man behind the ticket window and defied Greyhound's lack of inter-line cooperation by getting on the bus anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was also at this time that I happened to catch a glimpse of a bus moving at slow speed into its parking stall. If one watches closely, it can be observed that bus drivers are in-part so skilled at manoeuvring their gargantuan vehicles around the city, because coach buses have four-wheel steering (the wheels on the extreme outer corners all turn to help the bus negotiate tight corners).</div><div><br /></div><div>Between Saskatoon and Regina the highway is unbelievably straight; I did not notice even one turn on the three hour trip. It was also a boring section of the journey, because I finished Around The World In 80 Days just after leaving Saskatoon, and so had nothing to read to pass the time. Eventually I arrived at 4:15 PM (local time) though, and set about to find my hostel.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KbolRGb33sywCdGMT0nuTAR7V6NSCja7CWMnFLrRNZga1N4KTwJKtsITCZjQ_tw4c9v-QxsIDJqZmMfhoXqL6zD9cm_ahcmGQetkkVeAMle5D5JsYHL58866mdDx77ILkjnDoyJkqeg/s1600/Image00002.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KbolRGb33sywCdGMT0nuTAR7V6NSCja7CWMnFLrRNZga1N4KTwJKtsITCZjQ_tw4c9v-QxsIDJqZmMfhoXqL6zD9cm_ahcmGQetkkVeAMle5D5JsYHL58866mdDx77ILkjnDoyJkqeg/s320/Image00002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470022521990961106" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(While there were a couple of small "folds" in the land around Regina, basically take this picture and multiply it by six hours to get an idea of what the trip from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Lloyminster</span> to Regina is like.)</div><div><br /></div><div>The directions I received with my booking confirmation seemed simple enough, but were one block off, and so I walked to within twenty metres of my hostel before thinking I had gone west instead of east. I turned around and walked twelve blocks the other direction before realizing that I was going in the right direction the first time, and then turned around to walk all the way back again. All this time I was dragging around two suitcases, packed with all of the possessions I would need to live for an indefinite period of time in Halifax at the conclusion of my excursions across the country.</div><div><br /></div><div>Unlike most of my visits to hostels in the past, I actually arrived and checked in early enough this time to walk around and explore the area in which I would be staying this night. Within a twenty minute walking distance of my hostel I came across two Thai restaurants, a Chinese restaurant, a Korean restaurant, an Ethiopian restaurant, and I heard there was even an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Afghan</span> restaurant in the area. I would have never expected to find such a diverse neighbourhood in the middle of the prairies. It makes my home town's relative lack of diversity shameful. Bikes also seem very popular in Regina (at least in the area I was staying), and I must have passed at least one cyclist every two blocks that I walked; it was quite refreshing.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-5Rwilex9uJIw8hH4mrDWePZcyFvKmz-r-c5mZGRkohFQ51YLvqu7GmeO_wQ4Y9eTkbhm3dargYWjS50F58AVwCu_Or9vyu2CMBe6kUc1eLBX_KOnAowrqpSZlTGlMHXLnEEZGcGodoQ/s1600/Image00006.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-5Rwilex9uJIw8hH4mrDWePZcyFvKmz-r-c5mZGRkohFQ51YLvqu7GmeO_wQ4Y9eTkbhm3dargYWjS50F58AVwCu_Or9vyu2CMBe6kUc1eLBX_KOnAowrqpSZlTGlMHXLnEEZGcGodoQ/s320/Image00006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470022802096234690" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(It's not Starbucks, I know. Don't worry, I'll write a letter to this neighbourhood's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">MLA</span> about this sort of filth.)</div><div><br /></div><div>The people in Regina are exceptionally friendly for what I would call a relatively large city. I had no problems striking up a cordial conversation with each person I met along the way, and everyone seemed more than willing to help me get "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">unlost</span>" during my walkabout to find the hostel.</div><div><br /></div><div>At one point I came across this charming little car (see picture below), and the owner gave me a complete history of the car including where it was made and how it came to be that she was in possession of it.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUKBomc0O1OqiWb4W6XDnvSaFhA5xmvL724IEeJWnjpXdEzaeA0Y2EVS4kJMHojp8kpwFDs5Svn8fdgKoFw-i6o7tQ4au52m1AFT2poNntEiK_wx1nqT3W5Z5lHBOSzuZ1A_jyXd9aeM/s1600/Image00003.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUKBomc0O1OqiWb4W6XDnvSaFhA5xmvL724IEeJWnjpXdEzaeA0Y2EVS4kJMHojp8kpwFDs5Svn8fdgKoFw-i6o7tQ4au52m1AFT2poNntEiK_wx1nqT3W5Z5lHBOSzuZ1A_jyXd9aeM/s320/Image00003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470022531963258498" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>It's called a Nissan Figaro. It was part of a 1991, 20 000 car only production run, and was designed to look like a 1960s <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Datsun</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Fairlady</span>. The safety regulations in Japan are so stringent, that cars older than 15 years are no longer economical to run. Thus, the owners sell them and many old Japanese imports are available. The woman who owned this one purchased it through a company in Richmond, BC that brings in old cars to Canada and ensures they are safe enough to be driven on Canadian roads.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVTkoLhzV9neQd_-Ler9RmKc9LbSgeunzLiNdGlK5WR0QWZn2YLORiT90if0V3Z7QNwZZcJvl1yrLmIQR6Bi9aVTUwdUaGXA5qXKa4mXsK0Fdl2eaplvPIMkzXYvW3v4YWZwSpQlhtFYc/s1600/Image00004.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVTkoLhzV9neQd_-Ler9RmKc9LbSgeunzLiNdGlK5WR0QWZn2YLORiT90if0V3Z7QNwZZcJvl1yrLmIQR6Bi9aVTUwdUaGXA5qXKa4mXsK0Fdl2eaplvPIMkzXYvW3v4YWZwSpQlhtFYc/s320/Image00004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470022536012560402" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The owner even opened up the door so that I could take pictures of the interior.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaCXlJQzARsLCMxcefHewdY154P0kEsHwED7mTpUq_RmhPgc_BZrxncC0vJoCRCnKJyRauilOnuqL01RLlP5qJ30ctW5gYBGFeA5wQGhQ4UPxDJtprYHTVwchpMBu4jMP8TMqkycmyxM/s1600/Image00005.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaCXlJQzARsLCMxcefHewdY154P0kEsHwED7mTpUq_RmhPgc_BZrxncC0vJoCRCnKJyRauilOnuqL01RLlP5qJ30ctW5gYBGFeA5wQGhQ4UPxDJtprYHTVwchpMBu4jMP8TMqkycmyxM/s320/Image00005.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470022796447738450" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Notice the Japanese writing by the gear shift. Yup, it's a real import.</div><div><br /></div><div>In conclusion, while I definitely noticed that many of the side walks were in need of repair, and that a lot of the buildings along Broad Street looked like they were built in the 1970s and are now falling apart, Regina actually has a sense of charm that I find is lacking in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Grande</span> Prairie. Even though the buildings may be a little older, the owners appear to try and paint them in bright colours to give them a more personal touch. Even the names of the streets are warm, and friendly, and during one part of my search to find the hostel I found a neighbourhood in which all of the streets were named after Canadian Capital Cities.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxddft_nRizs64D_gWF5s2HiEfXB3qd12Jl2bu4O58tNR89vAhyk0fz5NHJKPqgSiJlZtn1NQZ4Sp7u7EnJIaJfo8LQdNx4vGJlJk9ti7shTAzRdtb9JlPClhE7L27rx-Za_PJoC25Y4M/s1600/Image00007.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxddft_nRizs64D_gWF5s2HiEfXB3qd12Jl2bu4O58tNR89vAhyk0fz5NHJKPqgSiJlZtn1NQZ4Sp7u7EnJIaJfo8LQdNx4vGJlJk9ti7shTAzRdtb9JlPClhE7L27rx-Za_PJoC25Y4M/s320/Image00007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470022807051899490" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(The angle of the picture is not great, but I still think it looks cosy. Halifax Street, Regina.)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0Rqn7MVNTwNSpkF5sMZ76gK375XlwN20UdWDyE_H_l5ySDsyFqJmsztRGycwP0QXVGRAtEJAcfVZAWtr3oc3FkI9Zg5K1I2q36O-8eeLtTosI5NmOYGuxNoWv60pXhaEuWHGYhJGo2c/s1600/Image00008.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0Rqn7MVNTwNSpkF5sMZ76gK375XlwN20UdWDyE_H_l5ySDsyFqJmsztRGycwP0QXVGRAtEJAcfVZAWtr3oc3FkI9Zg5K1I2q36O-8eeLtTosI5NmOYGuxNoWv60pXhaEuWHGYhJGo2c/s320/Image00008.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470022807961030882" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>(Yet more interesting architecture in Regina. The city has made a great effort to restore historic buildings like this one to enhance the sense of "culture". I applaud its efforts.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I never thought I would say this, but I'm actually going to miss Regina when I leave.</div>David Murrayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07334812588167693129noreply@blogger.com0