My Peeps

I would try this with my fellow Asians in Batavia, but there probably aren’t enough of us for a soccer team let alone a random mob.

Breaking the Canadian Curse: Part 2

Click here for pictures discussed in this blog.

Monday morning we headed into French Canada for a visit to the island of Montreal. It took us a little over two hours to get there, and though we nearly got lost, we managed to make the correct turns without ticking off any French Canadians.

Thanks to Priceline, we were able to snag a pretty good deal at the Hilton Bonaventure in the heart of downtown Montreal. We also must thank Priceline for their highly inflexible cancellation policy, because we might have canceled the trip altogether if not for that.

On our feet in Montreal, I managed to get us lost looking for the Indian restaurant Le Taj, but the final destination was well worth the circuity. We feasted on the buffet which consisted of naan, samosas, pakoras, tandoori chicken, butter chicken curry, various vegetable curries, fresh fruit, okra, and some of the best soup I’ve ever had. Indian buffets are dangerous, because as you’re waiting for the bill, you feel like you might as well pass the time with a pakora in your mouth.

We managed to roll ourselves out of the restaurant and down towards Vieux Montreal(aka Old Montreal). Our first stop was the Basilique Notre-Dame de Montreal. Upon entering, Sara remarked, “I’m glad we saw Ottawa first.” Indeed. Instead of trying to describe this breathtaking place, I’ll let the pictures do the talking. We took a tour of the place and learned a few interesting tidbits. Although a church was built in the area in the early 1600s, the present church wasn’t built until 1829. The architect, James O’Donnell was actually a Protestant from New York, which caused a bit of a stir. Later, he would convert so he could be buried under the church. We also learned, that in order for a church to be called a basilica, it has to have fancy decorations and a rich history.

After significant awe-age, we did a walking tour around the old cobblestone streets. Their narrow antiquity was reminiscent of Boston, but with better architecture. One particular street was lined with art galleries, which we enjoyed for a variety of reasons. They had good art, they were warm, and they were free. I then managed to miss a turn somewhere and get us lost again. For all my navigational mishaps that day, Sara was an incredibly good sport.

When we finally got back, Sara caught some shuteye in the hotel room while I caught up on cable television. We then headed out for dinner in the Underground City–a series of tunnels and metro stations that links up with malls, restaurants, and shops. It’s kind of like Rockefeller Center on HGH. Apparently, you can even access an Olympic-sized pool there, but we didn’t come across it. We did, however, find an ice skating rink. For dinner, we managed to find some cheap Thai food in the Eaton Centre food court.

On Tuesday, we stopped by one of Montreal’s many fine bakeries for breakfast and made a long cold hike up Mont Royal. The hike was a lot longer than expected due to all the snow on the ground which forced us to take switchbacks over stairs. The walk was a very interesting people watching experience with bikers struggling up the mountain, many varieties of dog, old people with iPods, and policemen and women in training. However, it was very cold and windy when we got to the top so we didn’t stick around for very long. I would not recommend doing this hike in cold weather. Although we did get a very nice view of the city, we probably would have been better off driving.

For lunch we dined at Le Commensal, an all vegetarian buffet which kind of felt like a classy church potluck. No cottage cheese loaf, but very good. A ride on the metro took us over to the Olympic Park area and the Biodome. Once the Olympic velodrome, this building has been converted into an interactive center highlighting four major ecosystems. In the tropical rain forest we watched tamarins jump from tree to tree, saw a caiman that appeared to be hungover, and observed a rather uninterested capybara. In the forest zone, we watched a playful otter that wouldn’t go down his slide and some very shy porcupines. However, the most entertaining of all were the beavers, who swam along the top of the water with a grin on their faces while holding their virtually useless tiny arms in front One sight that started out as funny, but then became particularly sad was a beaver who desperately wanted to snack on a maple tree. Though the cruel plexiglass kept him from his treat, he continued to scratch in vain. In the marine zone, we saw varieties of starfish, skates, and other ginormous fish. The final ecosystem was the polar zone, where we took in some penguin watching. We also caught a fascinating film on bizarre animal breeding behaviors, which made The Bachelor look not so freaky.

We rode the metro back into downtown and had some pizza in the Underground City. When we got back to the hotel, I took a swim in the Hilton’s heated rooftop pool. It took me less than half a length to get tired, showing that I have a little ways to go before attaining Michael Phelpsness.

The next morning we headed back to Vieux Montreal to visit Olive and Gourmando, a bakery that Sara had read about in Gourmet magazine. The signs and menu were in French, but Sara managed to decipher what things were. I ended up with a cheese croissant, while she enjoyed an apple turnover. We both concluded that they were the best of their kind that we had ever eaten.

One thing that I forgot to mention until now, but that amused us throughout our time in Montreal, was our lingual ineptitude. People would start speaking to us in French, and we would just freeze with panic until they would start speaking in English. I’m sure they get lots of stupid Americans there, but it felt weird to be the stupid Americans. There was one particularly interesting elevator ride where I picked up a button and handed it to the woman who had lost it. She and her companions then started to speak to us very jovially in French, while we just kind of laughed along. Neither of us had the heart to say that we had no idea what they were saying. They may have been insulting us for all we knew.

Overall, it was a very pleasant trip without the trauma that I had feared. It was good to know that the car calamities were a coincidence rather than a harbinger of impending doom. There was no reason to blame Canada afterall.

Breaking the Canadian Curse: Part 1

Last November, Sara and I had thought about going to Canada for the Thanksgiving break. But just before that, I got in my car accident and the money went to fun things like deductibles and car rentals.

After recovering from that financial setback, we were gearing up for a trip to Ottawa, Montreal, and Quebec City to celebrate our five-year anniversary. But in March, after we had made our reservations, Sara’s car experienced some problems. Bad problems. Ruined engine kind of problems. Depressing expensive (deprexpensive) problems.

One new engine later and with much sadness, we decided to cut our trip a little short and eliminate the Quebec City leg. I also secretly wondered if our car trouble was some sign that we should not be going into Canada. French Canadian coup? Repressed riots based on hockey futility? Moose attacks? I just didn’t know but the calamity timetable seemed strange.

One can probably surmise that these preceding events did not set us up for the relaxing carefree celebration that we had hoped for. Another problem was that we had figured for decent weather by April. Yet as we checked the forecasts, we saw temperatures in the 30s with gusty winds and snow.

The drive didn’t start well either. We left Sunday morning in the AM. About 10 minutes into our drive I got this feeling that maybe I didn’t lock the door. Since we only have a deadbolt, images of the door flapping open in the windy air and Tess escaping into the street immediately came to my mind. I asked Sara about it and she wasn’t sure either. We decided to turn around. When we got there, the door was securely locked. You may not know this about me, but I absolutely hate wasting time on drives. I will starve myself and exercise mind over bladder in order to get there quickly.

We drove through gloomy weather with the occasional snow flurry. About 4 and a half hours later, we arrived in Ottawa. Ottawa was very cold and windy, but our hotel was in an ideal location, right in the heart of the city. We headed over to the Byward Market where I gobbled some falafel and Sara nibbled on samosas. You cannot get food like that in Batavia. After the nourishment, we headed over to the National Gallery of Canada. They had an excellent collection of works which showed the progression of art from the Middle Ages to the early twentieth century. We were alternately impressed and totally perplexed by their collection of modern art. I like to think of myself as being open-minded about art and I like art that makes me think, but I still think it should be aesthetically pleasing on some level. I don’t want to see somebody’s hair entwined around a dead bird and read a 500 word explanation about what that represents. Sara and I were also pleased to see more works by the Canadian artists known as the Group of Seven, who specialized in colorful landscape paintings.

After the gallery, we headed to the Notre Dame Cathedral. Since it was Easter Sunday, there were quite a number of people there. It was very silent. The thing that was most awesome to me was the ceiling–a deep royal blue covered with golden stars. The front of the cathedral was also incredibly ornate, too much detail for my limited descriptive skills. Unfortunately, we didn’t take pictures there due to the definitely non-touristy vibe we were getting. Sara and I sat there quietly enjoying the warmth as people lit candles and knelt on prayer benches.

We then took a stroll around the faded green copper roofs of Parliament Hill and went in search of food. Along the way we passed a monument to Canada’s Unknown Soldier where a choir was singing and looking very cold. Canadians are hardcore. Eventually, we made it to our destination–Pancho Villa’s. Canada’s attempt at Mexican food was actually pretty good. However, if I owned a Mexican restaurant in Canada I would name it either Eh Meets Bueno or simply Buehno.

So that was pretty much our day in Ottawa. Sara and I were both surprised by what a pleasant city it is, especially the many cool old buildings and close proximity of major sites. We were also very pleased by our lodging at the Byward Blue Inn. Wood floors, high-pressure shower, a balcony with a view, and a pretty good continental breakfast. If we ever get back to Ottawa we’ll probably stay there.

Interested in some photos? Click here.