Dearest Rachel –
I realize that I should have taken a moment yesterday to wish you a happy thirty-third anniversary before I went on about our day, but as we were anticipating a busy day ashore, so we were rather preoccupied, I’m afraid. At the same time, do anniversaries still tally up when one partner has left the stage? In any event, I did manage to take you along with on our meanderings, although (as mentioned while in Sydney yesterday) I couldn’t find an opportunity to cast any of your ashes out until we actually got back aboard the ship. A quick note for future reference; the promenade deck offer a much better vantage point to do this than our balcony. I just need to be that much more surreptitious; but given that I already have to deal with Daniel’s disapproval, that’s relatively easy.
Anyway…
So the morning arrived, bright and clear for a change, as we made our way in to the Halifax harbor. Most of our approach felt like we were hugging the shore, but it might have been a case of simply being able to see land from a long way away while on the ocean (as well as while being some eight stories up from the waterline – if you think about it, we’re probably considerably higher up in our room than the guys in the crow’s nest of the Santa Maria, or any of the other great ships of the Age of Exploration). So we were making plans as to where to go once ashore. And by “we,” I mean Daniel in particular; he was actually going through Google Maps to ascertain where the points of interest were. I think what really got his attention was that fact that the main street downtown shares a name with a nearby wealthy suburb in our area; he didn’t really seem to have a plan, as such, about where to go and what to do.
As with several of our other destinations, we’d been given a map from one of those hop-on-hop-off bus tours…
…but we decided to make our way around on foot instead. If nothing else, I hadn’t been spending much time in the fitness center this time around (the two sea days between Greenland and Nova Scotia saw me battling what felt like a cold, but which thankfully didn’t bloom into a full-fledged, knock-me-on-my-back illness. Still, I was not feeling like exercising, and I doubt our fellow health-conscious passengers would have appreciated my presence in the state I was in), and could use the workout.
And a workout it was, as we made our way up Sackville Road to what they refer to as the Citadel – the highest point in the city, where one could presumably observe potential threats by sea from a long way off. I will say that the view was well worth the trip.
The route back downhill was a little less scenic, which was fine – it’s actually more difficult to descend an incline than to climb it; when you’re going up, you’re exercising, but on the way down, you have to restrain yourself, lest you fall. Eventually, however, we reached some more level ground and made our way through a few more of the listed landmarks, as well as interacting with a few locals who had raised a flag in honor of Terry Fox and his Marathon of Hope.
No, as it turned out, Daniel spotted a place calling itself a poutinerie at a point where the road with all the open-air restaurants ended. We’d had ourselves a snack of the stuff the day before in Sydney, but this place looked to be a little more established (and indeed, we would later find another location on the harbor boardwalk, somewhat to Daniel’s chagrin, but we wouldn’t know about that for hours), and it was what Daniel was interested in. Besides, all that hill climbing had actually worked up an appetite in me – not that I needed to do so; I’ve been going into the Windjammer with no intention of getting more than a light snack, and ending up with a plateful of stuff – so I was willing to check this place out.
Upon finishing lunch, we decided to make our way to the North End; we had been told that there were cafés and shops worth checking out there. Granted, the cafés wouldn’t be of any interest, but we still had the odd souvenir or two to look for; would this be the place to find anything? (spoiler alert: it wouldn’t, but the walk was well worthwhile, in any event).
In fact, there is a lot of artwork scattered throughout the city, if you were to pay attention to it…
Of course, with that artsy vibe come certain other attributes, it seems. I’ve said before that I try not to talk politics with you here (despite the fact that we did plenty in real life) because of the folks who might be reading this over your shoulder, but I will make reference to a few things, both on and off camera, that remind one that Canadians are… different. Or maybe it’s just from being on the coast, as opposed to the middle of the country. Whatever it is, they can be a little brazen about it, and while I’m not going to give more oxygen to certain folks than they already consume, they’re here, and they don’t do the polite Canadian stereotype any favors. Or maybe some of what we kept seeing is all part of that stereotype, and they’re publicly supporting certain positions so as to not offend those who have the more hair-trigger offensibilities; I’m not sure.
Eventually, we found ourselves back in the built-up downtown area, and with the sun beating down on us, we decided to take a little break; maybe even grab a beverage, as Daniel had depleted his water bottle (which is already inconvenient for him to lug around, as the strap that he used to carry it around his neck broke early on in the trip; he tells me that his expression of dismay when it did was actually caught on camera as we walked through Reykjavik, but I think I missed that). Fortunately, we found a place – which I nearly mistook for a metro station from the outside, but was still willing to check out, and a good thing, too – and gave ourselves some time to rest and refresh ourselves before finishing our lap around the city.
Having granted ourselves a second wind (although I mentioned even on camera how pausing like that make one wish to continue the pause indefinitely), we decided to explore the overhead pedestrian walkway, which is apparently a feature of many Canadian cities. Hey, the less that people have to expose themselves to the worst of winter, the better; I fully understand and support this. However, the section we passed through seemed to just take us from the mall past several hotels – and, not being a guest at any of them, we concluded it would be best to bail out fairly shortly.
This dropped us off by the nautical museum (another landmark found!), and after coming to yet another torn-up sidewalk we couldn’t proceed on, we made our way back east to the harbor, and backtracked to the point where the Dartmouth ferry disgorged its passengers, so as to cover the length of the boardwalk by the pier. It was here that we spotted a few familiar foods, but also picked up the souvenirs we had been seeking (although at this point, it’s going to be touch and go when it comes to packing – that’s something we’ll have to deal with today yet).
All in all, this was probably our busiest single day of the whole trip; we both put in well over twenty thousand steps covering eight or nine miles, and saw a lot more of the city than I think we expected to. I wonder if we had gotten a day like this on Thursday, whether we would have had a better opinion of Sydney or not. Hard to say; this is more like a real city, whereas Sydney is barely half the size of our own little suburb. Still, it’s a thought worth considering, even if I’m pretty sure I know better.
Now, of course, we have to prepare for disembarkation tomorrow, and the fact that we’ll be chasing around Boston a bit as well. Granted, since we’ll be spending a few hours chilling out in Fenway, it won’t be quite as rush-rush as all this was, but there are always things to take care of. In any event, keep an eye on the both of us, honey, and wish us luck. We’re going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 