"Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies. Farewell and adieu you ladies of Spain. For we've received orders for to sail back to Boston..."

"... and so never more shall we see you again."
--JAWS

CANADA TRIP DAY 5

When last I left you, dear readers, my dad and I had eaten at the Shoe Shop in Halifax and were about to wake up early the next morning to drive to Boston. I'll tell you about that trip, but first, here are those pictures from Nova Scotia I promised (reference my Shoe Shop story below).



Dad in downtown Halifax



Lighthouse Island with ships


Apartments on the waterfront


Starfish. Also saw lots of jellyfish around the waterfront.


Me thinking my camera is broken, when in reality my dad has just miraculously fixed it.



Inside the Shoe Shop

The Seahorse Tavern downstairs.



Citadel Hill, the highest point in Halifax I believe.

The bridge to and from the city (currently leaving).

Crossing into Maine was such a change from driving in Canada. After miles of untouched wilderness and long stretches of road where no other soul dared to drive, we had a mini-culture shock to see suburbs, and cars, and, well, trash littering the road. Ah yes; this is America. And yet, still no moosen to be seen. Huge disappointment.

After 15 hrs of solid driving, we finally made it to Beantown. A friend of mine from college, Casey Hart, works for Harvard sports. I gave him a call when we rolled in, and we met him for dinner at the oldest continuously operated restaurant in the entire COUNTRY, the Union Oyster House (check the website for menus, pictures, and its interesting history- http://www.unionoysterhouse.com ). Even though he's lived in Boston for two years, this was to be Casey's first time inside.

We took a cab to the Oyster House, and I had my first Boston attitude experience, as our cabbie tossed out curse words left and right like pennies he had no use for. He was a funny guy, and strangely enough the more we talked, the more I noticed myself adapting his accent into my own voice. I guess I was developing a connection between us.

The restaurant sits in a section of town where the roads are made of cobblestone and two streets meet so that one building sits at a V shape in between the two. It looked very old. Sitting at the bar and having a drink felt surreal, as did moving upstairs, walking between wooden booths and old fireplaces; I could feel a real sense that I was surrounded by history. You could just imagine seeing Benjamin Franklin or Thomas Jefferson (had they still been alive at the restaurant's opening) eating in a booth nearby, toasting their beers to America's early success.




In fact, John F. Kennedy ate at the place so much he had his own favorite booth that is still remembered today. American statesman Daniel Webster, a loyal customer, came often to drink brandy and eat oysters at the original oval-shaped bar downstairs. More interesting trivia for you: the toothpick was first introduced at the Union Oyster House.

Being in Boston, I felt it'd be a shame to not have a real New England dinner, so I ordered the SHORE DINNER. This came with a delicious bowl of clam chowder (I daresay the best I've ever had), a net of untouched mussels (no sauce or seasoning), native corn on the cob, red bliss potatoes, and a full, medium sized lobster. My mouth is watering right now at the memory of this delicious dish.


Casey preparing to eat.

My own, succulent dinner before me.

Honestly, I read the menu wrong, not realizing I was going to get the *whole* lobster and thinking it would be only a tail instead. Imagine my surprise when a bright red lobster on a steaming plate was placed before me. I put on my plastic bib and immediately began to play with my food, joyously puppeteering my future belly-filler and having him "speak" to my dad and Casey across from me.

Immature, I know, but I can't help it. It's not everyday I have a creature like that at my disposal to explore and have fun with. And what a lip-smacking, deliciously tasting creature it was. It was my first ever whole lobster to eat, and I loved every minute of it. Man, the Union Oyster House should be paying me for what I'm writing right now.

After dinner, Dad took a cab home and Casey took me to the oldest pub in America, the Bell in Hand. This was conveniently located right next door at the corner where those two streets I mentioned above meet and join into the road the Union Oyster House sits upon. Casey and I each ordered a beer that came in an unexpectedly large glass, listened to a band cover songs ranging from groups like Guns 'N Roses to Sublime, and generally people-watched.


The Bell in Hand on the left, Union Oyster House offcamera right.

It started raining, but since my dad and I were to leave early in the morning to drive back to Charlotte, this would be my only chance to get a walking tour of Boston, so Casey and I headed out into the city. He led me around the Freedom Trail (a red brick walking trail through the city that leads you past historical buildings and sites), through historical areas and the newer downtown, passing a building that the city's homeless like to use as a sleeping bag slumber party or shantytown at night. We went past some park whose name I forget, around the State House, which movie buffs will know as the gold-domed building that Matt Damon wanted a view of in "The Departed", and to another interesting pub called the 21st Amendment.


The State House

It wasn't very busy but had a cool atmosphere and still managed to feel "old". I'd say that was the best part of what I saw of Boston- it felt historical. It's old, yeah, but it didn't feel old in the dirty and rundown way. Everywhere we walked, I could feel the history around me; old in the good, well-known and famous kind of way.

We had another two drinks, then Casey took me to the nearest subway and we parted ways. It was a fun night; a wet night but fun nontheless. Boston was a cool town, and I hope I can visit it again soon and spend some more time there.




DAY SIX

The next day we drove home to Charlotte. Nothing interesting to note (ie, STILL NO MOOSEN!). We drove past New York City on 95 and saw the skyline from afar. We drove through Washington D.C. and saw the Washington Monument, Jefferson Memorial, and what we think was the President's helicopter, Marine One, fly by as we were on the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. After having easy traffic the whole week, we finally ran into gridlock outside Richmond that set us back by an hour, but we still managed to get home safe and sound.

Strange that so much driving, in the end, didn't feel like much at all. I guess the fun of the trip outweighed the time spent in the car.

Great trip, Dad. Thanks for taking me along.

--Cbake

Cbake has been Simpsonized

I've been to Springfield (state?). Once you cross the border into that small town with its own desert, beach, and flaming tire yard, your skin turns yellow, your eyes bulge, and your pinkies disappear.

So, I now look like this.





--Cbake

Running Red Lights

I ran a red light at a large intersection yesterday. It wasn't in the "oh crap it's yellow; do I slam on brakes or speed up to get through it?" sense, nor was it the "I'm late, I gotta run it, sorry folks... hope there isn't a cop or camera nearby," situation.

No, it was the "I'm a dumbass not paying attention" kinda thing. The light was red, and I was eagerly awaiting it to turn green. Sounds normal, right? I watch the lights for the perpendicular traffic change to yellow, knowing that soon it will be my turn to go. The light turns red, and I see someone ignore the light and plow on through, making a right turn in the same direction I will soon be going.

Well, that pisses me off. One of my big pet peeves is people who ignore traffic laws like running lights, failing to stop at stop signs, excessive speeding and the like. I see the light turn green in the corner of my eye and hit the gas hoping to catch up with this jerk who decided he was too good for stopping at red lights and obeying the rule of the road.

About halfway through the intersection, I see oncoming traffic turning in my direction. "Hmm, this is odd..." I think briefly before immediately realizing the green light I had seen in the corner of my eye wasn't for me, but was for left turns!

No one honks, no one is close to hitting me because I was so fast off the mark. I think they were all just as confused as I was. To make it seem like I'm not such an insensitive jerk, I give a feeble apologetic wave as I pass them and hope they understand. When I make it to the other side of the intersection, I hit the brakes hoping everyone behind me saying "What an idiot" to themselves knows that I realized my mistake.

Then I decide I don't want to be around any of those people behind me and take off, hoping to lose them before the next intersection so they can't look down at me from their SUVs with their cold, judgmental eyes.

But I can't lose them- the next light is red too. So I just lay low in my seat and hope no one really noticed.

"Idiot!" *smacks forehead*

--Cbake

Call Me a Woman If You Want, But I Love the Shoe Shop

I'm still too excited about where my dad and I went this evening to even think about writing a coherent post about Halifax, Nova Scotia. So here's the shorthand of it.

The city is cool and fun. We spent the day walking the boardwalk along the waterfront where many musicians play their violins, guitars, and bagpipes (Nova Scotia does mean New Scotland after all... I think) in front of some very cool stores and restaurants.

Then we poked our heads into the casino. Then Dad lost $60 on slots (to his credit, he did win $50).

Then we came back to the hotel (not far at all). Then we worked out in the small gym.

Then at 9:00 PM our time, which is actually 10:00 PM THEIR time because Nova Scotia is on Atlantic Standard TIme, we went out looking for a restaurant that might be open after 10 on a wednesday night. Then the cool looking martini bar we stopped in had just closed their kitchen but suggested the Shoe Shop down the street. So then we tried that.

Holy CRAP am I glad we did.

The interior of the Shoe Shop (http://www.economyshoeshop.ca/) is like walking down a street, and by that I mean there are fake trees built into the walls with spindly, leafy branches of red and orange branching out across the ceiling, covered in yellow Christmas lights. To your left might be a structure that looks like a cottage, with little windows and wooden doors, and if you were to go through that wooden door, you would find a wholly different section of the restaurant, complete with its own bar, built to look like the inside of the cottage.

The entire restaurant is one surprise like that after another. I counted at least three separate bars for each of its different sections, whether it was inside a cottage, located within another section separated from the others by Roman arches, or located within the central "Outside" like area which even has street lamps to the left and right of your path. I'm telling you, this place was COOL.

My dad and I weren't sure of the procedure when we walked in, so I asked one guy who ran by "I'm sorry, do you work here?", which I have heard others unconfidently ask, as the employees dress like the customers, "What do we do for a table? Is your kitchen still open?"

I was told to sit anywhere; someone would find me. Well, Holy Hell, this place has like nine different alcoves, and I refuse to call them rooms because they were more like entirely different "areas" located within the same building. I'm amazed that this restaurant/bar was that big.

But it gets better. When my dad and I finished our dinner and drinks (which were excellent by the way; my dad had haddock and scallops, I had Thai shrimp pasta), we made our way downstairs to the Seahorse Tavern. There, we watched an underground hip-hop group perform their act as lots of gorgeous girls shook their collective thang on the dance floor.

It was incredible. The music was fantastic, the atmosphere distinctive and unique. There were pipes running along the ceiling, leaking in some points on the dance floor in front of the stage where Utterly Krisp and Dj Josh (I think that is their names, apologies if I'm wrong) rapped and spun. The bar to the left, which was a full 360 degrees, was guarded on the four corners by large, bar-to-ceiling iron seahorses with evil, glowing red eyes. Long, dark wooden bar tops made an L shape around the dance floor (this is where my dad and I camped, watching everyone else dance), and booths were tucked into the corners between dark red walls.

We had a blast. I can't really compare this place to any other that I've ever been to. It would fit perfectly in Chapel Hill, Charlotte, or Los Angeles. The underground hip-hop we were listening to was actually UNDERGROUND. Could it be any better? Oh yeah, there was NO SMOKING allowed. I've never had so much fun and still smelled so clean.

So let's recap:

Great music: Check
Great locale: Check
Great bar design: Check
Great crowd: Check
Great atmosphere: Check
Great, clean air: Check
Great lack of shady looking characters and ho-like girls: Check
Great fun on a WEDNESDAY night: Check

One girl breaking it down on the dance floor, however, was wearing a fanny pack. I won't fault her for it as she was cute and could dance pretty well and forced me to second-guess what I thought was "hip" and "in fashion", Perhaps it's making a comeback.

Photos will be forthcoming, but its very late, my camera broke earlier today, and because we didn't research the ferry times from Yarmouth, Nova Scotia to Bar Harbor, Maine (which actually don't run on thursdays), it looks like we'll be getting up early to drive up through New Brunswick and into Maine. Which means even less sleep for me tonight than earlier planne.

But it was worth it, because now I see Clone High is on Canada's version of Cartoon Network, and I can fall asleep watching that. The gods have smiled on me tonight.

And oh yeah, there was never any indication that today was the 4th of July, so I didn't feel like I was missing out on anything back home. 'Cept for Jennifer. I do miss her. But Happy 4th to everyone else! Happy Birthday America!

--Cbake

"What is Canada's Greatest Natural Resource? Dirt!"

--Ren and Stimpy from "The Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen"

Canada Trip: Day 3

Today? Not as eventful as yesterday. Yesterday= driving around Toronto, walking around Montreal. Today= sitting around in the car, shifting around the front seat. Today= driving 15 hours from Montreal to Halifax, Nova Scotia.


Montreal at sunset from our hotel.


The Three Amigos, where we had dinner last night in Montreal.

And what did I see during the 15 hr trek through Quebec, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia? Well, today's blog title is a bit misleading, because by my estimation, Canada's greatest natural resource isn't dirt, but TREES. I tell you, it was interesting to drive through three different Canadian provinces today. Mainly, my dad and I were greatly interested in getting OUT of Quebec. Seeing French written everywhere in a place where you expected people to understand what you were saying was a bit offputting.

And yes, I realize it is our mistake for not researching the area and realizing French is the main language and that it is the 2nd largest French speaking city in the Western world outside of Paris.

My bad.


Don't self-photograph and drive.

But once we passed that state line into New Brunswick and began to see "Blah blah STREET" on road signs instead of "Rue de Blah blah *French guffaw*"... oh how we rejoiced. Though we did pass through a town called "St. Louis de Ha! Ha!" on the way to the border. That was pretty awesome.

I kid you not. It's Louis de Ha! Ha!, and yes the exclamation points are there. Look it up. Fantastically hilarious name for a town.

While most of Ontario and Quebec's geography didn't appear how I expected, New Brunswick was a different story and had that distinctly Canadian "look". What I mean is, lots and LOTS of coniferous trees and rocky, craggy hills. The kind of landscape where I expect to find flannel wearing lumberjacks, grizzly bears, wolverines, and moosen.



Yeah, Moooooosen. I kept my eyes PEELED for moosen today. That's my new goal on this trip, to see a moose. When I was in Hilton Head, SC, I wouldn't rest until I saw an alligator. On my cruise, it was a dolphin or shark. Here in Canada, its a moose or a couple of moosen (I know that's not a correct term, do yourself a favor and look up comedian Brian Regan, ok?). But I suppose I'd be satisfied with even some sort of large, grisly bear type creature.



But 15 hrs in the car yielded no moosen. Just more and more trees. But it's true what most people say-- Canada IS a very clean place, at least when you get up this far north. Its pristine. Barely any litter (and I want to hurt whoever threw those water bottles on the side of the road). There is virtually NO ONE else on the road when you travel the Trans-Canada 2 highway from Edmundston to Moncton on your way to Nova Scotia. Say that five times fast.

Truth be told, we could have driven straight through the state of Maine to get to Nova Scotia, but that route would have taken us around the many, many lakes strewn about its geography, and the line to get into the US of A could have been an hours long wait just to get to customs. So we kept the trip strictly Canadian and drove north, around the tip of Maine, then south and then east to Nova Scotia. Basically around your @$$ to get to your elbow I've heard some people say.

But not Canadians. They're too nice to say that. The ones not from Montreal, I mean.

PS. Here's a funny stencil we saw in Montreal. This was spray-painted on the outside of an old bank.


And this doesn't constitute as treason- I'm in Canada. Though if I was in America, he might commute my sentence if convicted, anyway.

--Cbake

You Haven't Had Buffalo Wings 'Till You've Had Them in Buffalo

Canada Trip: Day 1

Yesterday marked the first day of the great Father/Son Baker Boy Road Trip to Canada 2007. As many of you know, every year I travel to Pittsburgh, PA for a big, Godfather style family reunion. Well this year my father starts a new job July 9th, and while we were already up in the area, he thought it'd be a great idea to take the new company car up to Niagara Falls, work our way up through Toronto, Montreal, and over to Halifax, Nova Scotia before taking a ferry west to Maine and driving down to Boston on our way back to Charlotte.



We left Pittsburgh around 1 PM and drove up to Buffalo, NY. There we asked around and found the ORIGINAL site of the very first "Buffalo" wings. They ain't named after big, furry cow cousins, all you Jessica Simpsons out there. The Anchorbar had some amazing wings. Fat, juicy, and tender, they hit the spot after a few hours of being on the road.



After another few hours on the road, we found our way to Niagara Falls where we walked around the park, which was a lot like Central Park in NYC only with roaring rapids that roar themselves over a cliff. And with a lot more Indians. Yeah. Lots of Indians up in Niagara Falls for some reason.



Then it was on to Toronto, which is a *very* cool city. Despite my seething hatred for Paris Hilton, we stayed at the Hilton Toronto in an executive suite (which means we had access to an open bar until 11PM). There we met a retired NFL lineman, whose name escapes me at the moment, and enjoyed fabulous views of the city from the 32nd floor.





There was a lot going on in Toronto that night. FIFA soccer had championship games being played, there was a Jazz festival going on, and because July 1 is Canada Day (their 4th of July), celebrating 140 years of the Great White North, there were fireworks in the air. Very cool indeed.

Day 2

Today we made our way to Montreal. Once you leave the province of Ontario and enter Quebec, EVERY sign is strictly in French, which worried us into thinking that maybe everyone spoke excellent French and only so-so English. We speak excellent English and god-awful, wretched, gibberish-like French.

We stopped into a Best Buy anyway to look for a DVD of an MTV cartoon from a few years back called "Clone High" in which a high school is populated by clones of famous world leaders like Abe Lincoln, JFK, and Cleopatra. It was cancelled in America because the country of India did not like the portrayal of Gandhi as a party animal. The DVD set was never released in the US- only in Canada.

Much to my good fortune, I found one copy of the DVD set. Much to my misfortune, it was only in French.

First impressions of Montreal are not as favorable as those for Toronto. Toronto was large, clean, and full of polite, friendly people. The city claims it is the most ethnically diverse in the world. Montreal, on the other hand, feels older, dirtier, and populated by unfriendly, French speaking snobs. I say that because some of the first people we spoke to were either in bad moods or are just plain snotty. I blame their language.

But we're having fun hearing people say "aboot" and "oot". Haven't heard one "eh" yet at the end of a sentence. What's up with that, Canadia? Tomorrow we drive 12 hrs to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and we hope to see some beautiful landscapes on the way.

--Cbake