This one is a bit more about Halifax

I've spent the past week sleeping in Meghann's parking lot in Halifax by night and engaging in a bit of a routine by day. Every day I ride into town on Libby (the little silver addition to my Jamboree family). I go to the Second Cup coffee shop, check email, browse cheap travel options and sip soya lattes. I go to the Y. I go out and see something of Halifax. And then I find some place to have dinner and a glass or two of wine before returning to the Jamboree to sleep.

As far as coffee shops go:

I've been to Starbucks, of course, but they have a maximum of 2 hours online time per day. I tried another local coffee shop called Perks, twice actually, and both times their internet was down. I have gotten wireless signals in bars and restaurants to keep me company while I eat, and one evening I even had a few too many glasses of wine while browsing a little too long.

Hands down, Second Cup wins. Not only is it Canadian, it serves great coffees AND lets you sit there all day if you want, online. The reason I know all this isn't because I'm dying to spend all my time in Halifax online, but I had to get some work done this week, so needed a place to go where I could sit for hours and do that work. As well as browse and email and skype... and sip coffee...

I got to observe some of the coffee shop clientele while there. There's this one guy there every day, smells pugently of cigarette smoke and wears his tie around his neck, but right against the skin, not on the shirt but inside the shirt. He's otherwise well enough groomed, if you don't mind the fact that he wears the same clothes every day. He sits and listens to music on his Discman (haven't seen one of those in years!) and sips his coffee and knows every server by name.

There are two students from Dalhousie university, two young guys, who sit beside each other but both on their own laptops, comparing stuff. There is a woman who has come in a couple of times with a young Chinese girl, engaged in animated Chinese lessons over their cappucinos. There are two other young students who sit at opposite ends of the room from one another, both online, and I think engaged in an online game either against one another or on the same team against someone else, as they occasionally look up and make a comment to each other simultaneously about something that happened on both their screens. And these are just the people I've seen more than once.

Seriously, coffee shops are interesting character studies.

Another part of my routine is that I've gone to the Y almost every day to sweat and shower. It was the first place I went to when I rolled into town a week ago. The staff went above and beyond the call of duty to help me find Meghann – my parking lot hostess - online, to help me get a personal locker that I could keep all week, and, of course, let me use the facilities.

Here's my two-cents-worth for anyone planning an extended trip around North America and values feeling good: get a Y membership.

35 dollars a month and you can exercise when you are sick of driving or otherwise just needing to sweat. And shower! I can't tell you how important that part of it is. When I arrived here in Halifax, as an example, I hadn't showered in about 3 or 4 days. I had been sleeping in truckstops and parking lots in Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. I drove straight to the Halifax Y, seriously. Directly. First stop. Met the uber-gracious and friendly people behind the desk, and then, thankfully, sweated, saunaed and showered. You know that expression, “I felt like a new woman”? Uh huh.

I've decided to give my own YMCA awards for the services across the country so far.

Best security for Betty: Victoria
Swankiest new facilities: Its a tie! between: Calgary Eau Claire, and Winnipeg
Most challenging to get to: Mississauga
Most obviously full of the beefiest guys: Saskatoon
Most trusting (ie/didn't call to verify that my membership was in good standing): Corner Brook, Newfoundland
Best escape from the rain: St. John's, Newfoundland
Best class (karate!): Montreal
Hands down, friendliest and overall most helpful: Halifax

In fact, I was so damn thrilled to have found the Y in Halifax, to sweat and shower away my days on the road, that I composed a jingle. You know what tune to set it to, I'm sure I don't need to point that one out:

Young girl!
After driving around
you can go to
the nearest-kinda-big town
a-and work out!
All your driver's stiffness
and you'll feel – bet – ter – af – ter - wards

Young girl!
After your exercise
you can go down
to the sauna, no lies!
a-and shower! for the very first time
in sev - eral - days – but who's – count - ing.

Dun dun dun dun dun

Let's hear it now for the Y M C A
Yea, give a cheer for the Y M C A ' hey...

You can travel a lot
and sleep in par – king lots
and never worry that – you – are – a - slob.

Young girl!
After you feel revived
You can go out
and take part in your life
a-and feel great!
Knowing that you are
so clean - and - re-vit-a-lised!

Let's hear it now for the Y M C A
Give a cheer for the Y M C A ' hey...
... etc...


Ok, I admit, “young girl” is a bit of a stretch now that I've celebrated my 37th birthday, but it goes with the spirit of the song, don't you think? And attached are the pictures that will make the ladies at the Halifax Y famous, and without whom my week in Halifax would have been considerably less happily spent. :) Meghan with one n.

And finally, dining in Halifax. Yum. And great names. I've been to the Economy Shoe Shop. The Argyle. The Wooden Monkey. The latter being my favourite, full of gorgeous vegetarian and fair trade and organic dishes.

And so I leave Halifax feeling like I've gotten to know it, kinda, in an everyday sort of sense. I didn't take too many pictures, some of the citadel until my camera batteries died on me. But enough to know that I like it.

Halifax

I'd love to say this is about Halifax, but its not, not really...

Here's something funny. I am sitting in a cafe in Halifax, listening to two young people discuss their upcoming 2-months-travelling-around-Europe, while pouring over maps and travel guide books. From what I can glean, they are travelling next summer, which is about 8 months from now, and they are meticulously planning itineraries, number of days to spend in each place, what to do and see on which day, and how to avoid spending too much of their precious money: “like, you know, we could decide that we're going to see that one museum that day and then go have a picnic after, cuz, like, you know, restaurants are so expensive”. She has claimed to cut out some of the destinations on the recommended doing-Europe-in-2-months tour published in her guidebook, because, I overheard her say “I don't think you should rush too much through Europe”. Hah. So cute. So full of hope and excitement. I can guarantee she'll wander through Europe with a gigantic maple leaf stamped to her backpack,full of purpose and intention.

And I can't help but wonder: Have I rushed too much through Canada?

I admit, shamefully, that I'm eavesdropping. I can't help it. Its hard to ignore when A) I understand not only every word but every nuance behind every word and B) its about something I'm interested in.

I can't remember ever planning a trip quite to that extent. I wonder about if I did, if I went armed with all my guidebook info, if I would have had a different life. At least, a different travel life. Probably.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of the Lonely Planet, especially when you are me, a young woman, out there on her own much of the time. I often have one on me for the place I happen to be in. But I generally view it as one does a phonebook; useful when you need it, but no need to read every word in it before picking up the telephone. Its my reference book for when I'm there, and only sometimes do I consult it, usually for practical details, before pointing my nose in that direction. I'm glad that I've discovered the joy of spontaneity while travelling. That, yes, sometimes you need to move quickly, other times slow down, depending.... But that, really, its so much more fun the less I plan.

I bet this young girl will have read every word of every page of several guidebooks about their upcoming once-in-a-lifetime backpacking through Europe adventure, so that while she is there she will have most of it memorized, a self-appointed savvy traveller, and shouldn't be surprised or phased by any of it. Hah. Sweet, really, eh. But she will be surprised by something, I can promise that. Something will shock her, something unexpected. Of course, she'll be witnessing first hand such beauties as the Eiffel Tower and Mona Lisa, of the Parthenon and the Colliseum all of which will (and should) blow her away in her own personal way. But something unexpected will happen to throw her off a bit, something that she wasn't prepared for in all that reading and planning that she's doing about it before going. How she reacts to that unexpected moment will decide for her what kind of a traveller she is.

Good idea to go prepared, I suppose. People often ask me the question, “did it meet up to your expectations?” when inquiring into a place I've travelled through. I always find that hard to answer definitively, as I generally go places with as few expectations as possible. Its not something I do consciously, but I find it greatly enhances my travel experiences. Some places I know about more than others – for example, in my current travel across Canada I am much more aware of what Canada is all about than I was of, say, Japan, when I first moved there. I went there quite uniformed, actually, to say the least, and I think much of my enduring love of anything Japanese comes from my total lack of experience or knowledge of it before I landed. I was tabula rasa when it came to Japan and love Japan because of what I discovered while I was there.

There are places like Egypt and Greece, the stories and histories of which I knew about; there are places like the Phillipines and Sri Lanka, about which I knew comparatively nothing before I went. “Meeting my expectations” implies that I had a pre-conceived idea about what the place looked like, felt like, smelled like, tasted like, of what things I would see and what I would do and how much money I would spend before setting foot there. I am well read. I browse the internet daily. I like to think of myself as well-informed and well-educated. Yet I travel with relatively rudimentary ideas of what to expect – if, for example, I'm going to Moscow in November, I expect it will be a bit chilly outside, whereas the month before when I went to Cyprus, I similarly didn't expect to have to wear a heavy winter coat.

I think that much of the joy that I get when I travel, and indeed may be the reason why I am addicted, is that I go without the well-researched itinerary. I go knowing some things about where I am going and what I might like to do there, and look forward to discovering all that can happen when I'm actually there.

If I go expecting to be a bit surprised, to taste something interesting, to see something different, to meet someone unique, then I guess I can answer that, yes, nearly every single place I've been has met my expectations.

A recent example. Two days ago, when I was driving into Halifax, I was asked by a friend out west where I planned to stay and what I planned to do here. Besides celebrating my birthday somehow, and seeking out the nearest WalMart parking lot to sleep in, I didn't really know. He put out a call on facebook and within hours, actually just as I was driving into town, I got a message from him that a friend of his in Halifax said that I could park the Jamboree in the very big parking lot behind her apartment building. And now that I am there, I've got a view of a deliciously red maple tree outside my window and I'm only a 10 minute bike ride into town. I've gained a new friend in Halifax, Meghann, who works at the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia, at which I discovered some intriguing Atlantic art, including a glimpse into the very interesting life of Maud Lewis. The weather hovers above zero, so I'll stick around a few days, which includes plans to go out and about in Halifax.

How much did I plan for this year? Not much, really. Who needs a strict itinerary when such wonderful, spontaneous, genuine stories happen if you are just brave, silly, smart, or unattached enough to put yourself out there.

Now, have I ever been disappointed? Well, that also implies that I expected something and when it didn't happen, I felt it. For which, for now, I will answer, No.

PS: The pic to go with this blog is an advert prominently displayed in all NSLC (ie/ Nova Scotia Liquor Control) stores. I thought it was pretty funny. x

Cape Breton Island

There is a reassuring sense to the ocean no matter where in the world I encounter it. Walking along the coast of Newfoundland in late October, I closed my eyes and stood facing the ocean, hearing and feeling its waves rythmically crash against the rocks, and I was instantly, simultaneously, standing along about fourteen different coastlines around the world. The gentle rumble as the tide pulls out, and then crack as a new wave breaks and races in over the land, as familiar and predictable and wonderful here as anywhere. Standing on a rock, the water crawling up and around me, almost touching my shoes, the ocean felt like it does everywhere, taking over every sense, booming and drawing away and returning again and again. When I move away from it, step up inland, its intensity fades but its powerful presence a dull throbbing beat never wavering in the background.

The ferry carried me from this brilliantly calm last day on the Newfoundland coast and back to the mainland. To say it was a breezy night on board might be an understatment, though, as the wind banging into the metal sides of the boat at regular enough intervals to wake me up just as I was dozing off again and again, continuing this charade up through the night. So upon landing in Sydney, Nova Scotia at 7am, I drove to the nearest Tim Hortons, pulled down the shades in the Jamboree, and napped until 10. Quite convenient, really, that once I woke from my morning nap, I was able to fill up on a cup of coffee and a muffin before hitting the road again.

I've been sleeping in truck stops and parking lots a lot lately. I sleep surprisingly well in them, they are free, usually include a restaurant, and sometimes there is even somewhere nearby that I can get online. Irving truckstops, Wal Mart parking lots, even Canadian Tire is tolerant of us wayward campers determined to stay beyond the official season. A great discovery on the road at a time when campsites are all advertised with “Closed for the Season” signs stamped across them. The only thing I miss are warm showers and so I thank the stars for YMCA (as does my driver's cramp).

I drove around the Cabot Trail yesterday, which circles the northern bit of Cape Breton Island, weaving along the coastline and in and out of the Highlands national park. I had to peek through the rain and fog to confirm that the fall colours were still putting on their shamefully flamboyant show, and when I got to the top of one of the highlands, the fog and rain cleared enough to give me the breathtaking views that I went there for. The ocean was a bit angrier than it had been the day before on the Newfoundland coast, the sounds of it intensified. Having tricked my imagination into thinking it was just like it is everywhere, this ocean reminded me of its many moods.

Cabot Trail, Cape Breton Island