New England is famed for lobster, as well as other varieties of fish, and clam chowder. Fish soup really isn't to my taste and we can't afford lobster so a simple fish and chips would do. But alas we scour every town we pass to no avail in a vein hope of seeing that allusive chippy. It's just not the done thing here and even when it is the chips aren't chips at all, they're fries.
On we go to an overnight stay in Freeport. On the face of it this white board town is like all the others we've passed through on the east coast but no. This one is much odder. The short main street has shops on both sides, nothing strange about that, until you look closely and realise every building is the same. They all seem to have been painted white on the same day and built in the same style. In fact it's more than that. Nowhere have we seen so many designer named brand shops in one small town before. It transpires that Freeport is a bit fake. It's like an out of town retail outlet that forgot to move out of town and became the town itself.
This all started way back when a bloke called L.L. Bean started selling outdoor equipment here. His store was popular and just kept expanding and expanding into all sorts of other areas like fashion and kitchenware and so on. The popularity of the store drew in people from around the area and other brands latched on to what is now a small town with 120 retail stores. And on the whole they're all completely bland and uninspiring. L.L. Bean's massive store didn't even sell camping gas, and this is supposed to be an outdoor based shop!
That night we try and buy a pizza but the shop is already closing at 7:30pm. Typical. We settle for McDonald's as it's the only thing open and is actually a really flash building inside with a proper cafe look about it.
Next day we fail to find a watch for Laura's birthday in more abysmal shops and head a bit further south to Portland. Downtown Portland has the usual grim and dirty look about it but further on in the Old Port area things improve. A handful of cobbled streets house various interesting shops and restaurants that far outweigh anything Freeport had to offer. We buy a watch from a small jewellers, they're just about to close on a Saturday at 1:30pm, before diving into our second Irish bar on the trip. I hate Irish bars. For one, they're all over the world. In any small town anywhere there's an Irish bar. They're like the McDonald's of pubs. In America it's worse. Everyone likes to think they're Irish in someway and couldn't pull it off worse. There's almost always nothing Irish about these places either, except that maybe they sell Guinness. After average food and slightly better beer we head on.
Further down the coast the towns take on the look of English seaside resorts that over the years have been left to go a bit mouldy around the edges. The unpronounceable town of Ogunquit was our next stop off. It has a couple of beaches that are rough, blustery and pretty cold. But still there are a few people knocking about and over a sand bar it's a bit sheltered from the gale hitting the shore. We stroll about and notice two lads in their late teens playing catch. They could even be in their early twenties. Now playing catch at this age anywhere else in the world is quite clearly ridiculous. But here it's fairly normal as the overly dull sport of baseball is popular. I wouldn't normally mention these two lads at all other than on this occasion they seem to have left their ball at home and decided to throw a shoe at each other. I ask you, who throws a shoe?! We contain our laughter walking on toward the end of the sheltered beach. Unfortunately, this meant we have to walk back past these buffoons on the way to the car. Only this time the shoe throwing has become old hat and they've taken to throwing an ungainly large stick at each other. Then one of them picks up another equally large stick and the topless pair are now whacking each others sticks in a sort of blind man joust. This whole scene makes no sense to me at all.
With this bafflement still fresh in our minds we stop over in York. I've not even been to York in England but I'm sure it's nicer than the American counterpart. Still, it's not a bad town and even has a small beach and park from where we watch the sunset, it's a shame that even small parks like these are charging a fee just to enter. There's no doubting the quality of the facilities but free parks for all is somewhat of a non-entity in this country. It makes me feel like I should take our free parks a bit less for granted when I get home.
From this mix of seaside towns we head to three large and famous cities in close proximity to each other. Maybe one of them will have a chippy.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
An island idyll
The reason we headed through Bangor and toward the coast was because there's one of very few national parks on the east coast here.
Acadia National Park is an oddity as far as American national parks go as people actually live here. On the whole the parks are vast expanses of ageless wilderness in which you could clearly get lost backpacking in and no doubt be eaten by a peckish growling animal. Here it's more like the Lake District. There's a couple of established towns and a road linking them to and around the island, on which the park is based. It's an island linked to the main land via a small bridge so it's not exactly a triumphant paddle steamer of a river crossing.
National parks here are great, there's no denying it. As soon as you enter one you get a good feeling. A feeling that you really are miles away from some of the most boring towns of existence known to man.
Acadia is picturesque, resplendent in deep greens and all the while you can see the blue Atlantic and the odd smaller island just off shore. For some reason I'd completely omitted this place in my travel diary and I just can't think why.
We drive the ring road around the island and take walks on rough beaches and cliff edges. The sun is out but the Atlantic is still whipping an icy breeze around us. A short circular walk takes us to the top of the highest point, Cadillac Mountain, and we're rewarded with great views and windburned faces.
We stop overnight in one of the main towns, Bar Harbour, in a flash old looking whiteboard hotel. Reasonably priced too. The town itself is fairly sleepy but has a couple of streets worth a stroll to look in the specialist shops leading down to the harbour itself.
Food is mainly way out of our price range here so we again settle for a Subway sandwich. But at 8 o'clock the town was shutting down so unless we wanted to pay gourmet prices it was the best on offer. I keep forgetting the annoyingly early nights in the U.S. Nightlife of any sort is massively limited. There would be an uproar if even a Leyland pizzeria decided to shut at 8pm, besides it would be commercial suicide.
In the morning we take a stroll along the water's edge by another grand hotel and then up past some large houses of the millionaire type. Apparently, Bar Harbour was a popular getaway destination for the rich in Boston, Philadelphia and New York and hotels used to be scarce. In the 50's the hotel we stopped in was build and many more followed shortly after to accommodate the influx of wealthy city dwellers. After a fire wiped out a lot of the town only a handful of hotels were rebuilt and instead the rich folk from the city built grand mansions on the cliff edge. To a point you can walk along the edge through some of these extensive gardens until a wire fence prevents any further public infringement on rich mans property. You can see why the decided to do it though. The sea is still a constant vivid blue and the ever pounding water against the rocks provides a soothing relief from city life.
We've entered into a land where American towns look like they do in the movies. It wasn't all a lie. These towns were settled many years before their western counterparts and all posses a white church and pointed steeple and sprinklings of well maintained residential homes with hanging baskets and pristine gardens. Far from the half derelict shacks over the other side of the country.
We leave Bar Harbour and Acadia National Park to pass through more picture perfect towns along the coast with more and more British names, Belfast, Camden, Newcastle, Bath and so on. This got me thinking that maybe this is the trade off. The west has fabulous landscapes of unparalleled beauty and plain awful towns whereas the east is far more populated, thus being a bit short on natural beauty, but well kept and pleasing towns. Hmmm, we'll see.
Acadia National Park is an oddity as far as American national parks go as people actually live here. On the whole the parks are vast expanses of ageless wilderness in which you could clearly get lost backpacking in and no doubt be eaten by a peckish growling animal. Here it's more like the Lake District. There's a couple of established towns and a road linking them to and around the island, on which the park is based. It's an island linked to the main land via a small bridge so it's not exactly a triumphant paddle steamer of a river crossing.
National parks here are great, there's no denying it. As soon as you enter one you get a good feeling. A feeling that you really are miles away from some of the most boring towns of existence known to man.
Acadia is picturesque, resplendent in deep greens and all the while you can see the blue Atlantic and the odd smaller island just off shore. For some reason I'd completely omitted this place in my travel diary and I just can't think why.
We drive the ring road around the island and take walks on rough beaches and cliff edges. The sun is out but the Atlantic is still whipping an icy breeze around us. A short circular walk takes us to the top of the highest point, Cadillac Mountain, and we're rewarded with great views and windburned faces.
We stop overnight in one of the main towns, Bar Harbour, in a flash old looking whiteboard hotel. Reasonably priced too. The town itself is fairly sleepy but has a couple of streets worth a stroll to look in the specialist shops leading down to the harbour itself.
Food is mainly way out of our price range here so we again settle for a Subway sandwich. But at 8 o'clock the town was shutting down so unless we wanted to pay gourmet prices it was the best on offer. I keep forgetting the annoyingly early nights in the U.S. Nightlife of any sort is massively limited. There would be an uproar if even a Leyland pizzeria decided to shut at 8pm, besides it would be commercial suicide.In the morning we take a stroll along the water's edge by another grand hotel and then up past some large houses of the millionaire type. Apparently, Bar Harbour was a popular getaway destination for the rich in Boston, Philadelphia and New York and hotels used to be scarce. In the 50's the hotel we stopped in was build and many more followed shortly after to accommodate the influx of wealthy city dwellers. After a fire wiped out a lot of the town only a handful of hotels were rebuilt and instead the rich folk from the city built grand mansions on the cliff edge. To a point you can walk along the edge through some of these extensive gardens until a wire fence prevents any further public infringement on rich mans property. You can see why the decided to do it though. The sea is still a constant vivid blue and the ever pounding water against the rocks provides a soothing relief from city life.
We've entered into a land where American towns look like they do in the movies. It wasn't all a lie. These towns were settled many years before their western counterparts and all posses a white church and pointed steeple and sprinklings of well maintained residential homes with hanging baskets and pristine gardens. Far from the half derelict shacks over the other side of the country.
We leave Bar Harbour and Acadia National Park to pass through more picture perfect towns along the coast with more and more British names, Belfast, Camden, Newcastle, Bath and so on. This got me thinking that maybe this is the trade off. The west has fabulous landscapes of unparalleled beauty and plain awful towns whereas the east is far more populated, thus being a bit short on natural beauty, but well kept and pleasing towns. Hmmm, we'll see.
Friday, July 11, 2008
The King of New England
From Quebec over the river and along the highway back towards America the road is fairly uninteresting. It only becomes undulating and tree filled as we reach the US border. We stop off at a suspermarket before crossing the border to get something decent to eat. Still inexplicably French the young girl at the check out couldn't speak English. I got my French mixed up and tell her, "You don't speak French." Who cares? By this point we're almost at the border and instant English.
At was worried about the border crossing. This route isn't a particulary busy checkpoint and we only see one car drive through in the 10 minutes at the duty free shop in which we get rid of our Canadian change on chocolate.
I was worried because the crossing from Canada last time into Washington state was a hassle and took forever with endless questions about how we came about owning a car in the US. This time it was different. The guys on border patrol were much more laid back and didn't ask us once about ownership of the car. They did search the car, take our keys and ask me a load of questions though. "Do you have any food in the car?",
"Yes, cereal" I reply.
"So you have milk then?".
"No."
"Then how do you eat your cereal?".
"We buy milk, we have no fridge in the car."
And so on.
Once through the border and into the state of Maine the road cuts through large forests and up and over numerous small hills whilst we glimpse at an abundance of lakes and rivers, some still with thin ice on top.
We stop over at Bangor. I'd heard of this town only through fiction. The horror writings of Stephen King were based around the area and Bangor has featured in a few stories. Not only that but this is where he resides, complete with a spiders-web front gate, not that we saw it. We spent half an hour looking along a street for it but it turns out there are two streets both named the same but on different parts of town, brilliant.
The town itself is fairly small but nice enough. Brick buildings mark the couple of blocks of the centre of town and large wooden residential houses are the norm in the widespread outskirts. Although the centre is almost deserted two guys are enthusiastically thrashing away on acoustic guitars and belting out tunes. There's an abundance of large homes here, more than we've seen anywhere else in America. It does remind me of the typical scene in films of kids walking home along wide leafy pavements towards their large whiteboard houses. Generally America is nothing like this at all. Pretty much all across it the houses are small and flimsy looking. Maybe this is a sign of things along the East coast.
We're embarking on a trip down the coast through the major cities and towns that were the first major settlements of America. Most of these are well established towns in comparison to the many new sprawls of the west.
Bangor is ok enough but we're only passing through to get to one of only a few national parks on the eastern seaboard. The west of America certainly has the winning hand when it comes to areas of natural beauty and wilderness.
The next few days are spent on the road passing through the quaint towns of New England. I thought New England was a state but in fact it is just the name of a collection of states in the area, for now we're still in Maine.
At was worried about the border crossing. This route isn't a particulary busy checkpoint and we only see one car drive through in the 10 minutes at the duty free shop in which we get rid of our Canadian change on chocolate.
I was worried because the crossing from Canada last time into Washington state was a hassle and took forever with endless questions about how we came about owning a car in the US. This time it was different. The guys on border patrol were much more laid back and didn't ask us once about ownership of the car. They did search the car, take our keys and ask me a load of questions though. "Do you have any food in the car?",
"Yes, cereal" I reply.
"So you have milk then?".
"No."
"Then how do you eat your cereal?".
"We buy milk, we have no fridge in the car."
And so on.
Once through the border and into the state of Maine the road cuts through large forests and up and over numerous small hills whilst we glimpse at an abundance of lakes and rivers, some still with thin ice on top.
We stop over at Bangor. I'd heard of this town only through fiction. The horror writings of Stephen King were based around the area and Bangor has featured in a few stories. Not only that but this is where he resides, complete with a spiders-web front gate, not that we saw it. We spent half an hour looking along a street for it but it turns out there are two streets both named the same but on different parts of town, brilliant.
The town itself is fairly small but nice enough. Brick buildings mark the couple of blocks of the centre of town and large wooden residential houses are the norm in the widespread outskirts. Although the centre is almost deserted two guys are enthusiastically thrashing away on acoustic guitars and belting out tunes. There's an abundance of large homes here, more than we've seen anywhere else in America. It does remind me of the typical scene in films of kids walking home along wide leafy pavements towards their large whiteboard houses. Generally America is nothing like this at all. Pretty much all across it the houses are small and flimsy looking. Maybe this is a sign of things along the East coast.
We're embarking on a trip down the coast through the major cities and towns that were the first major settlements of America. Most of these are well established towns in comparison to the many new sprawls of the west.
Bangor is ok enough but we're only passing through to get to one of only a few national parks on the eastern seaboard. The west of America certainly has the winning hand when it comes to areas of natural beauty and wilderness.
The next few days are spent on the road passing through the quaint towns of New England. I thought New England was a state but in fact it is just the name of a collection of states in the area, for now we're still in Maine.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
More French than France
Normally I haggle a bit on the price of a motel. This almost always works except for here in Quebec. All English has all but disappeared and the abrupt attitude of the people towards our Englishness means no discount for us! Again we look around a couple of motels, neither of which offer non-smoking rooms, and settle for one rather nice place outside of town. I attempt speaking a bit of French here and there as I desperately try to remember the school days. It seems that I can do nothing but think of the Spanish for everything which makes it all the more confusing. There are benefits to this French speaking madness as it does feel like a break from the Americanised world with a bit of a taste of the good living of Europe once again.
Instantly Quebec is a quieter and better looking city than we've come across in Canada. In fact it feels a lot more historic and European than anywhere we've seen in North America.
Quebec is also the name of the territory in which Montreal, Ottawa and Quebec itself resides. Some years ago the idea of Quebec becoming a separate country in it's own right was put up for vote. The majority decided to stay with Canada but it just shows how the Quebec people feel about themselves and their territory. Unlike other areas of Canada where signs read in both French and English here the English has been dropped altogether. There's no compromise. It's French and that's that. Again, it seems no-one told these people that the British won and in fact they've been part of the British Commonwealth for hundreds of years now.
The downtown area of the city is typically dull but at least this time 'downtown' is the right description. The real heart of the city is high above on and around a large hill overlooking downtown. It's an old walled city that includes a fort that was built to fend off the British, it failed but still looks great. Once you're within the old city walls everything changes and you're thrust into a French town complete with cobbled streets narrow alleyways and tall thin stone buildings. It's unashamedly European and I love it. Unfortunately it's much chillier than Montreal and up here on the hill ice still remains. We dive into a pizza restaurant where we eat the best pizza we've had or seen in North America, nobody yet has managed to beat the Peruvians on quality pizza making.
In the daylight of the following morning we get to see Quebec in it's real light and much warmer sunshine. Lots of places here declare themselves as being 'National'. Like the parliament, which blatantly isn't national as that is housed in Ottawa. National this and National that just really means that is the capital of the territory of Quebec. Great buildings though and a large square houses a mixture of these 'national' structures but it seems one has had a recent fire and all but the stone frontage has succumb to the flames. It turns out to be the once grand looking army barracks.
We take a stroll over the park where the English defeated the French toward the river. It's another murky looking thing that looks less appealing when that wind blows. We follow a boardwalk that is built along the edge of a main wall over the river and spot some graffiti reading, "Go home Canadians". This is followed underneath by, "I am home". This again shows a little bit of the attitude of the people. Not all of them really consider themselves to be part of Canada. It's all very odd to me.
We walk around the grand green roofed chateau overlooking the water toward a street of outdoor cafes. This feels just like Europe.
And, like Europe, the food is right on the money too. Finally we're eating good bread and pastries again. Just to have a sandwich here is great. I've no idea how America got used to being fed such bad overpriced bread and poorly baked pastries and cakes but they think everything they do is amazing so nothing has changed. Once over the border and into Canada the food instantly improves. Supermarkets have butties and other such take-away items that are totally edible and there's plenty of choice too.
In Montreal there was the small old town area but here it's vast. Street after street looks superb, although street parking is somewhat expensive. At this point we decide to only put minimal amounts into parking meters. I like these things because quite often you turn up and the previous driver has left some time on the meter. We duly get a parking ticket for leaving the car for four hours and only paying for one. The ticket is for $25 and totally written in French. I'm sure this should be illegal. Either way we're not paying it.
A bit lower down from the large Chateau is the Small Champlain area, named after a French explorer. This is a pedestrianised collection of alleys, narrow shopping streets and squares. Brilliant.
Americans can't get cities right, except for a couple of exceptions, so coming here is like a breath of fresh air. It's funny how we've thought that some of the best cities in the world have some flavour of Europe about them. We can't help but think how lucky we are to live in such close proximity to vast array of great places Europe has to offer.
Flash boutiques, clothes and ice cream shops are dotted around Small Champlain, aswell as the odd well finished wall mural.
The outdoor life is part of the French way of life and translates well here. I like this place a lot and it without doubt is one of the top cities in North America.
We heard cheers from a pub the previous night due to the Montreal ice hockey team winning the famous Stanley Cup. The celebrations were later shown on TV. Around downtown Montreal police cars were over turned and set fire too and windows were smashed in and places like 'Footlocker' were looted in full view of tv camaras. Molotov cocktails were thrown at the police and so on. I'm glad we left when we did!
Before leaving we drive along the waterfront, the city has a large river or two flowing around it, to view the most expensive and highly sought after accommodation in Quebec. These blocks of flats were built in the 60's for the World Expo that was held here. They were hailed as a marvel of modernist design for their grey quirky boxy nature. They couldn't look more grim if they tried. A large industrial silo stands a hundred metres away and other large industrial rusting structures are all within a stones throw of these multi-million pound apartments. Overpriced and pretty ugly. It's such a shame that these are consider the place to live when old town Quebec is clearly a far more attractive proposition.
Quebec is great but our budget has been hammered by consistently overspending in Canada. It's not far to the American border from here and that's where we're heading. I'd have liked to have seen more of Canada but on this budget we could only see soo much. But still it was enough to make me come to the conclusion that I quite like the place. The vast wilderness and unfathomable expanses to the North will have to be savoured on another trip, one with a more forgiving budget.
Instantly Quebec is a quieter and better looking city than we've come across in Canada. In fact it feels a lot more historic and European than anywhere we've seen in North America.
Quebec is also the name of the territory in which Montreal, Ottawa and Quebec itself resides. Some years ago the idea of Quebec becoming a separate country in it's own right was put up for vote. The majority decided to stay with Canada but it just shows how the Quebec people feel about themselves and their territory. Unlike other areas of Canada where signs read in both French and English here the English has been dropped altogether. There's no compromise. It's French and that's that. Again, it seems no-one told these people that the British won and in fact they've been part of the British Commonwealth for hundreds of years now.
The downtown area of the city is typically dull but at least this time 'downtown' is the right description. The real heart of the city is high above on and around a large hill overlooking downtown. It's an old walled city that includes a fort that was built to fend off the British, it failed but still looks great. Once you're within the old city walls everything changes and you're thrust into a French town complete with cobbled streets narrow alleyways and tall thin stone buildings. It's unashamedly European and I love it. Unfortunately it's much chillier than Montreal and up here on the hill ice still remains. We dive into a pizza restaurant where we eat the best pizza we've had or seen in North America, nobody yet has managed to beat the Peruvians on quality pizza making.
In the daylight of the following morning we get to see Quebec in it's real light and much warmer sunshine. Lots of places here declare themselves as being 'National'. Like the parliament, which blatantly isn't national as that is housed in Ottawa. National this and National that just really means that is the capital of the territory of Quebec. Great buildings though and a large square houses a mixture of these 'national' structures but it seems one has had a recent fire and all but the stone frontage has succumb to the flames. It turns out to be the once grand looking army barracks.
We take a stroll over the park where the English defeated the French toward the river. It's another murky looking thing that looks less appealing when that wind blows. We follow a boardwalk that is built along the edge of a main wall over the river and spot some graffiti reading, "Go home Canadians". This is followed underneath by, "I am home". This again shows a little bit of the attitude of the people. Not all of them really consider themselves to be part of Canada. It's all very odd to me.
We walk around the grand green roofed chateau overlooking the water toward a street of outdoor cafes. This feels just like Europe.
And, like Europe, the food is right on the money too. Finally we're eating good bread and pastries again. Just to have a sandwich here is great. I've no idea how America got used to being fed such bad overpriced bread and poorly baked pastries and cakes but they think everything they do is amazing so nothing has changed. Once over the border and into Canada the food instantly improves. Supermarkets have butties and other such take-away items that are totally edible and there's plenty of choice too.In Montreal there was the small old town area but here it's vast. Street after street looks superb, although street parking is somewhat expensive. At this point we decide to only put minimal amounts into parking meters. I like these things because quite often you turn up and the previous driver has left some time on the meter. We duly get a parking ticket for leaving the car for four hours and only paying for one. The ticket is for $25 and totally written in French. I'm sure this should be illegal. Either way we're not paying it.
A bit lower down from the large Chateau is the Small Champlain area, named after a French explorer. This is a pedestrianised collection of alleys, narrow shopping streets and squares. Brilliant.
Americans can't get cities right, except for a couple of exceptions, so coming here is like a breath of fresh air. It's funny how we've thought that some of the best cities in the world have some flavour of Europe about them. We can't help but think how lucky we are to live in such close proximity to vast array of great places Europe has to offer.
Flash boutiques, clothes and ice cream shops are dotted around Small Champlain, aswell as the odd well finished wall mural.
The outdoor life is part of the French way of life and translates well here. I like this place a lot and it without doubt is one of the top cities in North America.
We heard cheers from a pub the previous night due to the Montreal ice hockey team winning the famous Stanley Cup. The celebrations were later shown on TV. Around downtown Montreal police cars were over turned and set fire too and windows were smashed in and places like 'Footlocker' were looted in full view of tv camaras. Molotov cocktails were thrown at the police and so on. I'm glad we left when we did!
Before leaving we drive along the waterfront, the city has a large river or two flowing around it, to view the most expensive and highly sought after accommodation in Quebec. These blocks of flats were built in the 60's for the World Expo that was held here. They were hailed as a marvel of modernist design for their grey quirky boxy nature. They couldn't look more grim if they tried. A large industrial silo stands a hundred metres away and other large industrial rusting structures are all within a stones throw of these multi-million pound apartments. Overpriced and pretty ugly. It's such a shame that these are consider the place to live when old town Quebec is clearly a far more attractive proposition.
Quebec is great but our budget has been hammered by consistently overspending in Canada. It's not far to the American border from here and that's where we're heading. I'd have liked to have seen more of Canada but on this budget we could only see soo much. But still it was enough to make me come to the conclusion that I quite like the place. The vast wilderness and unfathomable expanses to the North will have to be savoured on another trip, one with a more forgiving budget.
The more east the more French
I don't remember a thing about the drive from Ottawa to Montreal, the freeway is incredibly dull. Once we do arrive it doesn't improve much. The outskirts of town are a mass of crumbling graffiti-strewn overpasses criss-crossing around us choked with traffic and the now standard crazy driving. Downtown Montreal could be anywhere with it's long shopping street of the usual high street stores that ebbs away into unkempt buildings and littered streets. It's certainly busy though.
We try a couple of hotels but they're way out of our price range so it's an out of town motel once again. This is also pretty expensive in comparison to the US as well as being vastly worse. In fact it's one of the worst we've stopped in on the whole trip. It resembles one of those on-site cabins used by construction workers but a lot smaller, with the addition of water damage and mould along with a bullet hole in the window.
We escape the depressing accommodation to stroll around downtown and see what this place is all about. I was under the impression that Montreal would be full of French style buildings and cool streets but it wasn't at all, it was totally unimpressive. The French has stepped up a notch again here as although people can still speak English you can tell they're not too comfortable with it.
From the main shopping street we explore the small Chinatown, just one short pedestrianised street, and dive into a busy looking restaurant to eat some surprisingly great food. Things are looking up.
The sun of the day fades into early evening as we head to the Old Town area. This is much improved and is nearly what I imagined Montreal to be. Narrow cobbled streets shouldered by stone French buildings that have low lit restaurants full of grand artwork and people with a lot more money than us. Small boutiques leave their windows on at night to show of their window displays of quirky sales. Almost pub-like wrought iron signs swing from many a shop front along the streets that lead up to a large church and then down a wide pedestrianised collection of bars towards the waterfront. Winters here are also long and very cold, so on this moderate night it's no surprise people are drinking outside bars while they have the chance. The street is short, steep and lively and also marked with a statue of Nelson at one end. The French didn't seem to take too kindly to this so erected another statue to commemorate a French General that defeated the English. We continue on as a homeless guy approaches and begins to speak in French to us. We look bemused and just as he asks, "English?", I respond, "Don't bullshit me man, I don't care." His face took on shocked look and he seemed put a back for a moment. My patience with these people has completely run out. I have no interest in their business or time for their stories of hardship and lies. Back on the main shopping street we pass a lad in his early twenties crouched outside a shop shaking a tub full of change. I had to take a second look as this beggar was watching a film on a brand new iPod! I stop and look back. He turns to me and says, "It was a present". I laugh at the sheer ridiculous nature of it all. We pass another girl reading a book with a cardboard sign which reads, 'Need money for travel'. I've had enough of this. I need money for travel too but I'm not going to beg on the street for it. Besides, it'd probably be easier to just get a job. Further along another guy has a cardboard sign reading, 'Need money for pot'. It's all I can do to stop myself shouting in the faces of these people. From the horrors and misfortunes of Chinese beggars to seeing this lazy display of 'the world owes me a favour' attitude the people really do nothing to endear me to the Canadians or American way of life.
We have a quick look around the dull waterfront area before heading back to our hovel for the evening. We were originally planning on a two night stay here but we really have no reason to. The next morning we have to take a look at the city's parkas we'd heard good things about it.
Mount Royal is the park's name, which I presume is actually the name of the city itself once translated. It's a park on top of a hill that looks over the pretty dull city. The large lake here is still frozen which goes to show just how cold it must get here in winter, no wonder it's a popular cross country skiing place. From up here we can see the Olympic Stadium and the cycling velodrome, which has now been turned into a Biodome in which tropical plants of all types of boring nature now exist. In Manchester when we held the Commonwealth Games we built a velodrome. Instead of turning it into a greenhouse we used it for cycling. Seemed a bit more like common sense to me. As Britain has the best velodrome cyclists in the world, who train at Manchester, it seems to have paid off. Maybe the people of Montreal have now become world class gardeners.
Only the Old Town and the Latin Quarter save it from being a Toronto style waste of a city.
The Latin Quarter is a couple of student filled streets with more appealing buildings and restaurants and full on French everywhere. It's still a bit littered and grimy but at least it has more of an interesting youthfulness about it.
I expected far more than I got from Montreal. There are a couple of OK areas but on the whole it's a bit dull. The Mount Royal Park, designed by the same guy who designed New York's Central Park, fell short of all expectation and really was too far out of town to be considered a city park. Paying for parking once we got there was just adding to the annoyance of having to drive in the first place.
We were certainly glad to get out of our motel and back on the freeway. We had one city left to visit and after seeing this place we weren't getting our hopes up.
We try a couple of hotels but they're way out of our price range so it's an out of town motel once again. This is also pretty expensive in comparison to the US as well as being vastly worse. In fact it's one of the worst we've stopped in on the whole trip. It resembles one of those on-site cabins used by construction workers but a lot smaller, with the addition of water damage and mould along with a bullet hole in the window.
We escape the depressing accommodation to stroll around downtown and see what this place is all about. I was under the impression that Montreal would be full of French style buildings and cool streets but it wasn't at all, it was totally unimpressive. The French has stepped up a notch again here as although people can still speak English you can tell they're not too comfortable with it.
From the main shopping street we explore the small Chinatown, just one short pedestrianised street, and dive into a busy looking restaurant to eat some surprisingly great food. Things are looking up.
The sun of the day fades into early evening as we head to the Old Town area. This is much improved and is nearly what I imagined Montreal to be. Narrow cobbled streets shouldered by stone French buildings that have low lit restaurants full of grand artwork and people with a lot more money than us. Small boutiques leave their windows on at night to show of their window displays of quirky sales. Almost pub-like wrought iron signs swing from many a shop front along the streets that lead up to a large church and then down a wide pedestrianised collection of bars towards the waterfront. Winters here are also long and very cold, so on this moderate night it's no surprise people are drinking outside bars while they have the chance. The street is short, steep and lively and also marked with a statue of Nelson at one end. The French didn't seem to take too kindly to this so erected another statue to commemorate a French General that defeated the English. We continue on as a homeless guy approaches and begins to speak in French to us. We look bemused and just as he asks, "English?", I respond, "Don't bullshit me man, I don't care." His face took on shocked look and he seemed put a back for a moment. My patience with these people has completely run out. I have no interest in their business or time for their stories of hardship and lies. Back on the main shopping street we pass a lad in his early twenties crouched outside a shop shaking a tub full of change. I had to take a second look as this beggar was watching a film on a brand new iPod! I stop and look back. He turns to me and says, "It was a present". I laugh at the sheer ridiculous nature of it all. We pass another girl reading a book with a cardboard sign which reads, 'Need money for travel'. I've had enough of this. I need money for travel too but I'm not going to beg on the street for it. Besides, it'd probably be easier to just get a job. Further along another guy has a cardboard sign reading, 'Need money for pot'. It's all I can do to stop myself shouting in the faces of these people. From the horrors and misfortunes of Chinese beggars to seeing this lazy display of 'the world owes me a favour' attitude the people really do nothing to endear me to the Canadians or American way of life.
We have a quick look around the dull waterfront area before heading back to our hovel for the evening. We were originally planning on a two night stay here but we really have no reason to. The next morning we have to take a look at the city's parkas we'd heard good things about it.
Mount Royal is the park's name, which I presume is actually the name of the city itself once translated. It's a park on top of a hill that looks over the pretty dull city. The large lake here is still frozen which goes to show just how cold it must get here in winter, no wonder it's a popular cross country skiing place. From up here we can see the Olympic Stadium and the cycling velodrome, which has now been turned into a Biodome in which tropical plants of all types of boring nature now exist. In Manchester when we held the Commonwealth Games we built a velodrome. Instead of turning it into a greenhouse we used it for cycling. Seemed a bit more like common sense to me. As Britain has the best velodrome cyclists in the world, who train at Manchester, it seems to have paid off. Maybe the people of Montreal have now become world class gardeners.
Only the Old Town and the Latin Quarter save it from being a Toronto style waste of a city.
The Latin Quarter is a couple of student filled streets with more appealing buildings and restaurants and full on French everywhere. It's still a bit littered and grimy but at least it has more of an interesting youthfulness about it.
I expected far more than I got from Montreal. There are a couple of OK areas but on the whole it's a bit dull. The Mount Royal Park, designed by the same guy who designed New York's Central Park, fell short of all expectation and really was too far out of town to be considered a city park. Paying for parking once we got there was just adding to the annoyance of having to drive in the first place.
We were certainly glad to get out of our motel and back on the freeway. We had one city left to visit and after seeing this place we weren't getting our hopes up.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Where?
Quick geography question, what is the capital of Canada? Come on, Canada is one of the biggest countries in the world. It's bigger than the U.S.A and still I had no idea what the capital city was, I originally thought it was Toronto or possibly Vancouver but no. Ottawa is the somewhat subdued capital city, a bit like Canberra in Australia, it goes unnoticed internationally and has never come up as a tourist destination. But as it wasn't too far from Toronto and on our way we thought why the hell not. We'd heard, like Canberra, that there's not a great deal to the place but it's always best to find out for yourself. Besides, we've got a lot of places to compare it to.
First thing's first and sorting accommodation is priority. We look at a couple of overpriced dire rooms, one motel even had a filthy office toilet on display next to the garbage filled counter and chain smoking owner, before settling in a reasonable place out of town. Just over the large river is central Ottawa.
A row of kebab, or kabob as they call them here, shops and a few grimy stores line the roadside before things improve up a small hill. On this slight elevation is the grand parliamentary buildings with their definite French style of green copper roofs and elaborate masonry. We are slowly entering another realm, one dominated by the French. If you didn't know, France used to own huge chunks of Canada but lost out to the British a few hundred years back. For some reason it seems no-one told them they lost. Smatterings of French were about in Toronto but not so much you'd really notice or care but clearly the capital has just that little bit more. You hear French being spoke by all ages all over the city but they still speak fluent English too, they just prefer to speak French. It's all a bit strange really.
Swarms of people are flooding the streets in the hot weather and many gather outside the huge parliament building to picnic or throw a ball about on the grass. Behind the building is a pathway which overlooks the fast flowing chilly river below.
For some reason the people are much more attractive here than I've seen anywhere in North America. It also seems that the nightlife is pretty good and during the day aswell many bars and restaurants are crammed in the outside seating areas. The weather is again good and after the especially long winter here many must be making up for it. Talking to a bar waiter he tells us that the seasons are extreme here, well below freezing in winter and upto 40 degrees centigrade in summer!
After eating in a bustling but disappointing take-away curry house we wander the still warm evening around the bustling cobbled streets surrounding a market area. We return in the sunshine the day after to check out the food at the market and buy a croissant to see if the French influence really has affected the pastries. Oh yes it has. Americans can't make pastry, fact. Canadians can. I'm inclined to believe this is the closer European influence here, which may also explain why there's loads of bars and outdoor places to drink and eat compared to the morose dark bars of America.
We blow some money on a couple of decent ales and a handmade pizza sat outside an almost English style pub. Then it's just over another river to a park that has a long pedestrian and cycleway running alongside the still very fast running water. We stroll along the popular path as rollerbladers and cyclists zoom past as the sun sets over the water. After a day of strolling around European looking buildings, a bustling market and drinks and food outside a pub this seems like a good ending. Back into town and amongst the large residential buildings, mainly occupied by students standing outside drinking, we get a cracking bit of take out food called a Shwarma. This is a Lebanese sort of pita wrap thing that's more akin to a healthy type of kebab.
We left with a good feeling about the Canadian capital. It has a youthful vibrancy of a student town with the nightlife to go with it. With the addition of the great looking national buildings and some narrow cobbled streets and outdoor eateries. There's always plenty of people wandering the streets rather than the frankly deserted American cities, although it doesn't take too long to walk into some rough looking areas. The edges of downtown quickly become dirty and forgotten but around the heart of the city it's clean and characterful.
I really like it when you never know what to expect from a place and it surprises you into being a decent destination. There was no hype about the capital, in fact we'd only heard negative things, so it was all the better once we got there. But it's expensive and for that reason we have to plough on to another couple of cities before heading south again to the cheaper life in the USA.
First thing's first and sorting accommodation is priority. We look at a couple of overpriced dire rooms, one motel even had a filthy office toilet on display next to the garbage filled counter and chain smoking owner, before settling in a reasonable place out of town. Just over the large river is central Ottawa.
A row of kebab, or kabob as they call them here, shops and a few grimy stores line the roadside before things improve up a small hill. On this slight elevation is the grand parliamentary buildings with their definite French style of green copper roofs and elaborate masonry. We are slowly entering another realm, one dominated by the French. If you didn't know, France used to own huge chunks of Canada but lost out to the British a few hundred years back. For some reason it seems no-one told them they lost. Smatterings of French were about in Toronto but not so much you'd really notice or care but clearly the capital has just that little bit more. You hear French being spoke by all ages all over the city but they still speak fluent English too, they just prefer to speak French. It's all a bit strange really.
Swarms of people are flooding the streets in the hot weather and many gather outside the huge parliament building to picnic or throw a ball about on the grass. Behind the building is a pathway which overlooks the fast flowing chilly river below.
For some reason the people are much more attractive here than I've seen anywhere in North America. It also seems that the nightlife is pretty good and during the day aswell many bars and restaurants are crammed in the outside seating areas. The weather is again good and after the especially long winter here many must be making up for it. Talking to a bar waiter he tells us that the seasons are extreme here, well below freezing in winter and upto 40 degrees centigrade in summer!
After eating in a bustling but disappointing take-away curry house we wander the still warm evening around the bustling cobbled streets surrounding a market area. We return in the sunshine the day after to check out the food at the market and buy a croissant to see if the French influence really has affected the pastries. Oh yes it has. Americans can't make pastry, fact. Canadians can. I'm inclined to believe this is the closer European influence here, which may also explain why there's loads of bars and outdoor places to drink and eat compared to the morose dark bars of America.
We blow some money on a couple of decent ales and a handmade pizza sat outside an almost English style pub. Then it's just over another river to a park that has a long pedestrian and cycleway running alongside the still very fast running water. We stroll along the popular path as rollerbladers and cyclists zoom past as the sun sets over the water. After a day of strolling around European looking buildings, a bustling market and drinks and food outside a pub this seems like a good ending. Back into town and amongst the large residential buildings, mainly occupied by students standing outside drinking, we get a cracking bit of take out food called a Shwarma. This is a Lebanese sort of pita wrap thing that's more akin to a healthy type of kebab.
We left with a good feeling about the Canadian capital. It has a youthful vibrancy of a student town with the nightlife to go with it. With the addition of the great looking national buildings and some narrow cobbled streets and outdoor eateries. There's always plenty of people wandering the streets rather than the frankly deserted American cities, although it doesn't take too long to walk into some rough looking areas. The edges of downtown quickly become dirty and forgotten but around the heart of the city it's clean and characterful.
I really like it when you never know what to expect from a place and it surprises you into being a decent destination. There was no hype about the capital, in fact we'd only heard negative things, so it was all the better once we got there. But it's expensive and for that reason we have to plough on to another couple of cities before heading south again to the cheaper life in the USA.
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