A big day in the a big Apple

Up at 3:30 am to catch 50 minute flight and arrived in NY city 6 hours later. Oh the joy of travel.The white stuff had finally desisted and so we left the Canadians to their joy. Interesting to see all departing aircraft being washed down with antifreeze just prior to takeoff. Quite an operation. Suspect more out of season farmers being usefully employed here. A long queue for a taxi started the pattern in USA. Its nice to be able to understand the locals (as interesting as the French language is). It's a pity they struggle to understand us. after checking in and finding to our delight we'd been given separate but adjoining rooms we now don't have to live in each others pockets for the next few days. We then hit the town. 22 km on foot later we are totally exhausted the senses are a bit numb. The overwhelming observations are (apart from the place being overwhelming) is the size number of buildings and then the people. There are so many people. There are crowds people lining up at every tourist attraction. There are crowds in every attraction - we even discovered crowds queuing to leave the attractions . And there are swarms of them in the streets. Literally. Needs to been seen to be believed. Our journey started out with a stroll past Tiffany's and then through the chaos known as Times Square. Hightailing it the ports on the Hudson river we perfectly timed a cruise boarding and sailed around the bottom of the island.Up at 3:30 am to catch 50 minute flight and arrived in NY city 6 hours later. Oh the joy of travel.

Disembarking under Brooklyn Bridge we then wandered over it. All was calm an peaceful . And the 200,000 people who joined us also thought the same. The cyclists whose track we were all on didn't. Build a bridge guys. Get over it....oh yeah you did that already... Back on the next leg of the ferry (queues) to have a look at the Statue of Liberty. serious tourist stuff. We almost capsized the boat in the rush to get that photo. People did not seem interested at all in actually looking at it. All that is important is getting that shot.

On the way back to the port we discovered how rude and arrogant other people can be. I guess when you pack so many people together for so long native behaviours eventually surface. A relatively short look around an aircraft carrier and we drifted (read - cut our way through the crowds) back into town. Dinner at yet another Irish pub. And then off to the Rockefeller tower to be fogged in. Still caught snippets of the views and scammed a ticket re-issue (heh heh). One win for the little people.

Total exhaustion. Off to bed

Stuck in the snow

"Be careful what you wish for" were the wise words of our Jamerican taxi driver all those days ago when we were telling him of our annoyance of the forecast for no snow at Christmas. We thought he was just expressing his dislike of the cold weather due to his home being tropical paradise. But no...his wise words were all about the disruption the stuff can cause to travellers. And thus with the truth of words ringing in our ears we settled for a day on minimal activity (whilst New York had rain). On the bright side we have now experienced serious falls of the stuff and seen how the locals deal with it. We awoke to the streets being awash. Snow ploughs running around everywhere and cars being bogged. No seemed over concerned, worked their way through it and got over it. And it just kept on floating down all day long.

We packed our bags and walked off down the street. 4 people. 6 big bags and a few smaller ones. Pushing through the snow, wishing we had a sleigh, oh what fun we had, groaning all the way. (Yes - its somewhat annoying that they are still playing carols in the shops). The temporary digs are just around the corner and we soon found ourselves luxuriating on in rooms with baths, desks, couches and enough space to swing a cat. If we had one they would even allow that due to their "pet friendly" policy. And so we headed out to experience a proper winter in a cold climate. The locals all seem very happy - some falling over and laughing. Snow shovels are in constant use around doors. We saw one car being extracted with two shovels broken in the process (reasonably amusing). The footpaths in the main streets are kept reasonably clear by the constant foot traffic. They grind the snow into a strange fine powder. There is no ice as such and therefore its not too slippery. What gets stuck to clothes and bags just brushes off - everyplace has an airlock at the front door where the snow gets dusted off on the way in or the layers get put on on the way out. Interestingly there are not too many cyclists getting around.

Spending a couple of hours relaxing in the afternoon we the headed out for an early dinner at a Mexican restaurant which were couth by having the items listed on the menu (aka wine). The city scape certainly changes under these conditions and looks magical. Even when the emergency services are flashing their lights around (a fire in a building nearby).

Back to our comfy rooms to argue with our bookings in New York. Got that sorted and thus its off to bed for a horribly early start to catch our rescheduled flight.

Skating on real ice

It was a splendidly cold day with a top of -10c. The sun was shining (somewhat feebly in the south) and the cars were gleefully spinning their tyres on the icy road verges try to get out of their parking locations. Finally getting to use the thermals we'd lugged half way around the world for 3 weeks of this weather (not one day) we headed off for a day of frolicking snow play. Catching the underground trains was straightforward... and noisy. They run on rubber tires the same as the ones in Paris so whilst it seems efficient it really could do with some noise reduction technology. One point up for home. Their ticketing system is easy to use, cheap and clever (paper RFID cards). OK OK... so home sucks in comparison.

Anyway, after research showing that all the real winter fun starts in January here we alighted at the Spaceship known as the Olympic stadium on the promise of sledding, sliding and skating. Eventually we found a fun park for toddlers. Thinking there was more (or something better) we walked around some, saw some protestors getting ready for something, looked at the entrance to the botantical gardens and eventually capitulated and went back to the toddlers play pen. After all we are Aussies. This is an Olympic stadium. This is where we stand tall, and proud, and we win. Except in Montreal - as history shows.

Anyway we were here to have fun - regardless of skill level of the participants (so was the squad in '76 apparently) so we sat on the rubber tubes and slid down the entirely safe slope - giggling all the way. We then donned our skates and then gracefully slid around the rink for an hour or so. Well the younger generation did. The older ones struggled. Ghosts of '76 being channelled perhaps. Ice skating is a skill. Makes one appreciate how well the hockey players are loaded with ability. Trying to teach old muscles new tricks takes more than an hour of struggling to be successful. Give us week at least (was the justification). As it transpires this was the perfect place for us. Uncrowded, relaxed and friendly.

We had a great time and so back through the noisy tunnels of the underground to relax and discover the weather tomorrow will deal us a timetable blow. Here comes a true "event". All hands to devices to look at alternatives but nothing stood out as a viable option. As so deciding to let fate take is course we walked back down to the old town (past the Notre Dame angels)for diner at the brewery. Turns out that they are pretty uncouth with most items of any quality (salmon salads, sav blanc etc.) being unavailable. Not letting this trouble us too much we feasted on available grub and taxied back to the abode.

Securing alternate accommodation for tomorrow was not awkward. Hopefully insurance will cover it it. Of course one can never make up for an entire day in the big Apple being lost. Still the storm could be interesting....

Snow - Glorious Snow

"You've read my mind woman. It's like we're one person" - so said the first born to her mother upon hearing there was chocolate to consume after a sumptuous "in-digs" dinner purchased at the fresh food market across the road from our accommodation in Quebec. The weather forecasters here are spot on. Right on schedule the locals got their first proper dump of the season and they were all happy. Notions of global warming were brushed aside as they started to plan their winter fun. Items like a 7km downhill slope to play on did seem enticing. Due to extremely bad timing (weather wise) we headed out of town just as the true winter shenanigans were beginning.

Snow is an amazing phenomenon. It's water but does not behave like it does in the temperate climates. It floats down. It bounces around. Settles for a while and then lifts off to go to another place. Sometimes individually, other times in packs (known as flurries). It sticks to everything. And then sometimes slides off, other times it builds up. There seems to be no order, no rules it just does whatever it wants. And so we four braved the maelstrom. Loaded down with our newly purchased extra baggage we headed off the the bus depot. Some dragging two suitcases others simply snowplowing through the drifts with what they had. Scott of the Antartic had dogs to help get through this stuff - we were on our own. And we had to take photo's whilst doing it. However tough the going was - we did prevail. We'd learnt a few days ago that in olden times the farmers who had nothing to do in winter became lumberjacks, preparing the logs for floating in the spring melt down to the cities where they built the cathedrals out of them. Thus the workers (ne: proles) were always employed for the greater good. It's very apparent that these days there is an entire army of workers in Canada who work tirelessly in winter to scrape and clear the footpaths and roads to ensure life goes on regardless (they are tough, they have it figured out, they know what to do and when) and it's pretty obvious that when global warming stops an entire workforce from being employed for a week or two people start to get edgy. Anyway, thanks to their efficiency, diligence and butt bearing arrogance to the rest of the world the footpaths had already been scraped and we could get through our 500 meter ordeal with no mishaps. Scott had dogs. We had street sweepers.

Apart from a coffee cup exploding at departure time at the bus depot all went smoothly on the trip back to Montreal. Everything covered in snow. All looking magical. Fur trees dripping in the stuff. Cars swamped, fields awash, a total lack of colour wherever you look. and the roads... Still flowing. Can't stop progress. Can't stop people needing to be somewhere else. People like us. Enjoying our delightful quiche slices as we read our novels as we hurtled through the slush on the highways along with thousands of other vehicles.

Arriving at our old familiar residence (cramped but we have been doing this for a long time now, so no problem). We went our desperate shopping ways and then met back at dig central for a home cooked handmade pasta dinner. Brilliant!

Boxing day bonanza!

This event had been planned for months (apparently). Just like at home - because the shops have lost a WHOLE DAY trading they need to ensure society is still hooked on consumerism and attempt to make up the losses incurred the previous day by getting everyone (literally) out and about spending. And so they have boxing day sales in quiet Quebec too. None of us had ever had the pleasure of participating in this social phenomenon previously - the notion of being involved was visibly exciting the experienced shoppers in the team. Highlighted more so by the fact that stuff is (nominally) cheaper here. And so the whole day was dedicated to shopping. This was not the usual (this) blog described experience of shopping e.g. in unique markets in obscure places with wacky people dressed in kaftans selling strange goods and/or concoctions. This is the raw deal. Concrete centres with chain stores selling the same stuff worldwide. Difference here is the labels are in French, no haggling and there is always the unadvertised tax taking away any joy in thinking you've got a bargain. Unperturbed we set off. By taxi. Couldn't afford to stuff around on public transport getting there. This was serious shopping. Boxing day style. The whole town seemed somewhat subdued for 10 am. Arriving at the main center we discovered why. They don't open until 1pm! Aarrgghhhh.

Another lesson in the need to do your homework. Whiling away the hours wandering aimlessly around a deserted mall was the only answer. Formulating a plan of targeted purchases and prior reconnoitering of possible outlets to procure from seemed like a good idea. It all fell to pieces when some stores opened earlier and thus they consumed all the attention of the dedicated within the team. Slowly the hordes drifted in to the palace. The converted started to line up otside their preferred temple of worship. By the time the gods of consumerism had deemed it was time for the holy gates to be opened the sense of excitement in the air was palatable.

With a series of clacks and bangs the shutters rolled back and the crowds surged forward. The cash registers sang their happy tunes and all was good with the world. The girls had joined the biggest queue (Best Buy) which was longer than an Tullamarine international economy line on the first Monday morning of school holidays. Once they were funnelled in, spun around inside and spat out the exit they were grinning ear to ear. Hadn't purchased anything, but at least they went along for the ride. However, purchase items we did. Some significantly 75% off. Eventually exhausted, we fell out of the concrete cathedral and slipped into a taxi to return back to the room where a short recovery was welocome.

One last treck up that infernal hill (key point for future travellers to Quebec - get a room up the top of the town - whatever the expense!) for a cheaper dinner - burgers and beer. It is getting colder again. Snow tomorrow. BTW... We met a local who said that in her 65 years of living here she had never not had a white Christmas. How lucky are we :). Here's a photo from yesterday to give the post some visual interest.

A very merry christmas

Christmas morning sun shone brightly on the recently washed streets, drying them and thus removing all the slippery spots on the now very familiar road that takes us from our lowly placed hotel up to all the action on the parapet. As we neared the Notre Dame the bells were calling out across the town - drawing the faithful to their common house of worship. The melody reduced to a toll and faded away just as we joined the stream entering though the front door. Inside the pipe organist was giving everything to to a rendition of the The Last Noel. It sounded fantastic.

Soon the service was underway. A procession of the hierarchy slowly entered the main arena bearing signicant symbolism with due pomp and ceremony. Lots of speeches (in French of course) interspersed with much standing, sitting, male choirs (sounding like Enigma) and the organist obviously having a ball with his instrument. We had swinging smoking pots being waved around, biscuits being broken and water being thrown over willing participants. We followed along as best as we could - showing respect as one does when visiting another's house. Not being able to understand one spoken word the mind did tend to wander - couldn't help wondering if the holy one on top of the extremely impressive alter is standing on a set of breasts or a behind. Given the seriousness of the occasion it was decided that it would be prudent not to ask. Luckily they didn't offer confessions (forgive me Father for I have blogged...). And so we trolled back down the slope in brilliant sunshine, dry roads and decided that white Christmas's are overrated. What really matters is the good will. Thus enlightened we went back to the room, relax and then reload (e.g. pack the picnic) and headed back to the high plains knowns as the Fields of Abraham.

Battles were fought, democracy estsblished, barack's built, battlements constructed, cannons positioned, walkways, pathways, belvederes, roads, benches all put in place so locals can fornicate openly in front of tourists on Christmas day. How very French. After our delightful "triage au cheeses" and crusty bread we wandered around the fields frolicking in the occasional persistant snow drift before heading back through town which was surprisingly full of people. Looks like all the families were out and about walking off their Christmas feasts. Ours was had in the evening. Yet another slog up the hill to get to our fine dining establishment. By the time we leave this place we'll be a able to race mountain goats on their home turf. The event was well worth the effort. Great food (snails, maple syrup etc.), good wine and quality company (i.e. the best). After all, we traveled to the other side of the planet for this meal. And it certainly met expectations.

The town bereft of snow still glows in the ambience of the season (apart from all the rubbish appearing from underneath the grey sludge that once was white and fluffy). Our church looked angelic under the full moon.

A Balmy Christmas eve in Quebec

The weather forecast held true. The locals can't believe their luck (although they do have a deep sense of inner guilt). Last year was a -30c blizzard. This year +10c. The day started out cold (as we are getting used to by now) and ended in a heat wave. As this is written it is warmer than a Melbourne winters day. There's a full moon shining over the heart of old Quebec city as the dedicated pour into the historic cathedrals for the traditional Christmas eve ceremonies. We started the day across the road at the markets (to which Isabel had already sojourned to deliver us fresh coffee) in order to stock up in case of closed shops tomorrow. Heading up the parapet there were still vestiges of snow lying around alluding to the possibility of (at the very least) a slushy christmas. Discussing the possibilities of Frank Sinatra warbling about dreaming of a boggy christmas we rushed up to the Citadel to join the midday tour.

This was a fascinating insight into the military history of the town. Interesting to see this was the site of yet another famous capitulation by the French. Apparently this one took up to 20 minutes to reach an outcome. That's the spirit. The Brits then built the fortress which was never attacked and (given current state of world affairs) never will be. Story goes that the Yanks once sailed in, confronted a blizzard and left 2 days later with the locals bearing their behinds at them, making rude gestures and then going back into their micro breweries to consume delightfully strong beers in celebration of their ability to survive harsh climates. The feeble sun was making the whole garrisons quarters look very photogenic until the predicted rain came through. Second blow to the white Christmas. The rain quickly washed most of the slush away leaving glistening cobblestones to reflect the Gothic(ish) buildings to the delight of the camera welding tourists.

We ducked into a cafe to dry off and consume more local fare for lunch. Emerging, the rain had stopped and the sun came out, giving some actual colour to the place. All if a sudden the drab grey city turned into a colourful pallet painted photographers playground. So we split up. Two went shopping. The other half went on a mission to chase the setting sun.

This turned out to be extremely successful. Up on top of the hill (exactly where the short battle was held all those years ago) we found a landscape dusted with crisp snow, interspersed with patches of green grass, locals walking dogs and jogging around in the unusually warm breeze and an angelic light illuminating the whole area. Perched on top of an historic cannons blast stop we watched the sun dissappear up river, listening to the bells of a church over the far side of the river (at least 2 km) ring out their Christmas mass celebration tune.

Heading back to base camp the breeze just got warmer and warmer (final blow to the notion of a white Christmas). Out for a delightful dinner (they forgot to charge for the wine - woo hoo!) And then in our tiny room to converse with the home crew who are already celebrating the day with the wider family. Out turn comes tomorrow. Makes one realise how much effort Santa actually puts in to get every corner of the globe in one evening.

Cold in Québec

Up early (for us at least) and being the well oiled functioning foursome we have become over the years at 10:00 am our gear was being loaded into a suitably sized taxi and off we whizzed through the grey streets of Montreal city to the bus depot. Bus depots all over the world look the same - dreary, desolate, drab - full of people who can't afford a more expensive way of travelling. And they know it. It's for this reason no one smiles at bus terminals. Even at arrivals. The owners/management of these places dont bother making them look nice in an attempt to get patrons to spend money, because they have none to spend. If they did they would be at the railway stations or airports - that's why those places have boutiques and decent coffee. And thus we found ourselves - slurping on some sort of warm concoction which may have had a coffee bean grown in the highlands of Werribee waved over it at sometime in its history and rushing onto a caboose full of single travellers who all wanted a window seat just so families could not sit together.

Being long distance journeys they have washroom facilities. An obvious necessity. As are the delightfully aromatic chemicals eminating from them. Guess who spent 2&1/2 hours breathing these delightful fumes... As we headed northeast the outside vistas quickly changed into picturesque snow covered landscapes. Still shrouded in fog it all bodes well for the white Christmas ahead (apart from the forecast that is). Arriving at the terminal in Quebec city we jumped straight into a large taxi (much luggage) drove around the corner and alighted at our hotel. Very funny. Should have looked that one up beforehand. We could have walked faster than the time it took to do all that loading and unloading. The old town of Quebec is covered in snow (for the moment) and the sounds of Christmas songs fill the air. Literarily. Everywhere you go. It's in the streets. It's in the shops. It's in the pubs. It's in my head. It's in my head...(sorry about that). After checking in to our squashed (but OK) room we hit the town. Lots of olde worlde charm combined with snow and Christmas themes (trees, lights, music and tourists all lapping it up).

The girls waited patiently in line to get free portrait with Santa (yes the real one) whilst a foursome serenaded them with commercial carols sung in both languages (suspect they were just showing off). By the time we scaled the cliffs which define the old quarter it was bitterly cold and getting dark. 4 pm. Time for a drink. So we found a pub and had tea and cheeses whilst letting the bones thaw a bit. 5 pm here feels like 10pm at home. Well worth a look as they have gone to a serious effort to make the place interesting after dark.

We plodded the cold/slippery old cobblestones back down to pizzeria for dinner (really good - square pizzas - who'd a thunk?). Heaps of photos of the snow taken because apparently it all disappears tomorrow due to global warming.

Fogged in at the Mont

Extremely good as we are at sleeping in, today we excelled ourselves. Whilst the apartment is brilliantly located in the centre of town, our street is exceptionally quiet and as such we didn't emerge into the grey metropolis until just before midday. Fully prepared for a big day on foot the first agenda was to head uphill... and then more uphill...... ever on towards the views known as Mont Royal which overlooks Montreal (suspected connection there... whatever).

As we tolled up towards the peak we could see a thick fog pouring over the hill. By the time we got to the top it had almost obscured the entire view with just a snippet of distance viewable to west. By the time we sat down in the impressive chalet for 1/2 hour waiting for it to clear it became so thick that it was almost impossible to to see the trees at the end of the path. It was interesting that the roar of the city streets was still clearly audible though. And so taking it on good faith that the views are impressive (on a clear day) we trolled back down the 435 steps, the slippery paths and the soggy dead leaf covered grounds back into town. All of this "mystical" landscape should be covered in snow (get used to this whinge over the next few blogs - there are a lot more pending) however all we got was a cold, foggy, soggy experience. On the bright side we did get some classic fog photo's and saw a squirrel.

The treck back through greytown led us to the Marie Reine Du Monde cathederal - which was very granduos (and out of the wind). Many words could be used to describe this building. First to mind is "Money has been spent here". Then heading off to the old quarter a slight detour showed us some slummy areas before we stopped in a café for a releaving caffine hit. Emerging into rain (which persisted for the rest of the day) we finally made it to the Notre Dame - modelled on the one in Paris (sort of) it is very touristy and certainly worth a look. Pleased that we could compare the two churches in one day as the first was serious - this was almost.... glistzy. Very photogenic though.

Giving thanks during communal drinks at a local micro brewery afterwards we reflected on the days undertakings and all agreed that even though the weather is not to plan - the town is looking pretty cool due to all their lighting efforts. And so at 5pm we trolled back in the dark, drizzled laden streets snapping photos of all the Christmas lights on the way to our apartment. Where we had a takeaway dinner (thanks to our tour guide and the internet) and a quiet evening in. Spent mostly planning our next adventures...

Moving onto Montreal

Throwing the curtains wide the windows of the hotel room revealed a snow covered car park with a frozen swimming pool beyond. No one swimming curiously enough. The sun was trying to make a serious impression down south and failing in making an effort to warm things up. Feeling refreshed from sleeping in a comfortable bed with no interputions for a change we had our complimentary breakfast in the motel and headed back into Lennoxville - home to Bishops Uni.

Revisiting the cafe' (sans students) and the supermarket (sans students) we walked back to the car through the town (sans students) which was parked at McDonald's (sans students). Driving away from it all we went past lots of student accommodations which (go figure) were sans students. So whilst we saw the place we certainly did not get the vibe that the place had a month ago. Those memories will have to remain within our student herself. Heading back to Montreal the temp started to climb into the positives and the rain started to come down. Soon all vestiges of a mystical kingdom were washed away and the landscape along the highway looked like a wet, cold drab day driving from Geelong to Melbourne. By the time we delved into the concrete jungle that is Montreal it was trying to snow again - however that didn't last long until it all just turned into a continuous cold drizzle for the rest of the day.

Unperturbed though we found our luxurious digs and went to explore the shopping extravaganza that lies hidden below street level. Literally a rabbit warren. Full of rabbits. Honestly, you've got not idea. There are swarms of them down there. They fill every corridor, they eat everything on offer, they crowd through the checkouts. It's like a crazed swam of ants running around haphazardly after a dead log has dislodged from the tree above and fallen on their nest. Well maybe not quite that frenetic but close. Couriously we discovered that there are as many people roaming the streets above the ground as below. After bidding a sad farewell to and ditching our wheels we went to dinner at local Turkish restaurant. Recommended by the internet (which, by the way, has been our guide and source of knowledge in many situations so far on this trip... yay for the internet and yay for free WiFi!).

On to Sherbrooke

Blocking out the infernal light coming through the bars above the door with a blanket was obviously never going to stop noise. Last nights ghosts came in sometime after midnight and seemed oblivious to the fact that there were inmates trying to sleep through their loud inane conversations echoing throughout the cell block. As it transpires "Hey SHUT UP" seems to translate well in any dialogue. They should have tried that in Poltergeist (may have saved the house). Upon receiving a pardon from the governess at reception we finally shook off the shackles of the old gaol, had a quick coffee in the heart of the old city and bid farewell to Ottawa town and all their....totems.

It was a cold day. With a light snow lining the roads it was -3 to start with. As we flew along the highways the sun came out highlighting the sometimes white fields and leafless forests. Skirting Montreal for the moment we headed on to Sherbrooke. Slowly the flat landscape changed to hills and then reasonably interesting mountain scapes. Most of them have ski runs on them - even small nearby hills. Interesting that the locals have no need to drive far to go skiing in winter.

On the way it got to -6 outside with a fair amount of snow lying around. Arriving at Bishops University we found an extremely picturesque setting - extensive olde worlde buildings and grounds all delightfully covered in a light frosting of snow, serene with not a student in sight. An ex-one (Louisa) showed us around. It was a fascinatsing insight into her world over the last 4 months.

Heading off in the dark we wound our way through the extensive streets of Sherbrooke to our digs for the night. After checking in we went of to Samurai Sushi for an extensive feast of quality fresh products wrapped rice. Yep - the sushi here has rice on the outside - not seaweed. It's the little things that make the difference between cultures. Oh yeah - and they all speak a strange language. Weird.

Signs of snow

The early morning sun bounced of the white exercise yard and beamed through the bars in windows, lighting the south corridor of the penitentiary in such a way that made it almost angelic instead of the demonic place it is renowned to be.

Another night incarcerated was again disturbed by ghosts of the past and present (it's hard to tell the difference without proper scientific equipment). Eventually arising from disturbed slumber we were faced with the outside world covered in a light covering of powder snow. By the end of the cold (seriously so) day some of it was still lying around. It was nice to see the early morning sun reflecting off it though. Gruel for breakfast again and we then did the official tour of our residence. Needless to say all our suspicions were true:- Incarceration, cruelty, torture, santioned murder (all often unwarranted) went on here. The spirits ain't happy. We saw and heard the gruesome details - highlighted by the gallows with the trapdoors below purposely a key design in the building structure. Now we are really looking forward to tonights sleep.

Released into the exercise yard known as Ottawa City the four of us headed into the cold biting wind, catching a late' and hot choc on the way to the Museum of History. Cool building with seriously big totem poles. These should not and cannot be denigrated. If you are into totem poles - this is the place to visit. They have built the biggest, most awsomeness and possibly most expensive building to house them in. So whatever one must do in Ottawa (apart from not spitting on the sidewalks) is respect totem poles. Well that's what we figured anyway. They also have an IMax at which we watched a show on the Vikings which was (seriously) good. In the fading light (4:00 pm) we headed back across a really cold, noisy, steel bridge to correct yesterdays retail mistakes and have pre-dinner drinks at the Irish pub before dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant.

This was a fabulous cultural experience as well as good value (ie cheap). The staff were genuinely bored, obviously a family run (and paternally) controlled affair with half the early patrons being relatives. The food was great, however it did leave the impression that (like Sydney) it would be great place to visit but not desirable to live there long term. And so, a short stroll home in the dark cold wind through the ever increasingly easy to identify druggies, drunkards and homeless to the sanctuary that doubles as a haunted house we look forward to another restless nights sleep.

Skating on no ice

How could we do this? you may well ask.. Answer .. We didn't. No snow = no ice - for us - so we did the next best thing and watched the professionals at play. More on that later. We started off the day by reminiscing prisoner horror stories of poor sleep: interrupted by noisy inmates, lights on all night, guards strolling the corridors and torturous machines humming their repetitive cycles. The amount of effort they have gone to recreate the original purpose of this place is extraordinary. Note to self...next time read the fine print before forking out the hard earned. After breaking fast on the mandatory gruel we banded together, overcame the guards at reception and burst out onto the street revelling in our freedom... only to go straight back in and put some thermals on because its starting to get really cold.

Off to Parliament to do a tour of the houses. This was well worth the money (ie free) and the effort. Exeptional security measures (due to last years incident), grandios architecture and enthralling dialog. Plus a bonus trip to the top of the tower for the best views in town.

We then wandered down and had subtle poke around the inside of the Notre' Dame and tried to sneak into the national gallery for free (well you can in our home town...). Retail therapy for some and then hopping on the bus we headed of to a local ice hockey game. Ottawa vs. Petersburg. We sided with the locals and we won (5/4) yeah..alright!. We also won the inevitable biffos.

Enlightened to local culture (and the sport) we bussed it back to town amid snow flurries. The forecast is for cold but no snow, so whilst we will lament about spending thousands to have a white Christmas...and failing, folks at home struggle under a 42 degree heat wave. Seems like it warming up everywhere.

Put in the pen

Honestly Officer - everyone was going at this speed.... The punishment for this horrendous crime is to be locked up in the local jail for 3 nights (You do get day leave though...). And so here we are. Doing time for simply doing what the locals do. Maybe it's just a way to raise revenue at the old gaol by sucking the tourists into their wiley traps.

Whatever the cause, we are now entrenched in the local jailhouse for 3 nights surrounded by the ghosts of past in small cells with locked doors and inmates from all over the world. To get here we backtracked yesterday's early stroll to the same hire car company and got bigger car (to hold all the luggage), drove back to the burrow to collect everyone and the bags and then spent 5 1/2 hours under cloudy skies, some showers and some really heavy rain(no sign of snow) driving the wide open highways to Ottawa. After being institutionalised we went out for dinner at an "authentic" Irish Pub (hmmmmm Guniess!) for dinner and then strolled up to watch the lights dance on the Parliament house building.

Much better than white nights in Melbourne. Back in the pen for the night we plotted our escape. Could take some time as these walls are thick and the guards look like...backpackers.

The power of the falls

Having done our research we decided the best transport option for the day was to hire car. And so we set off to the obscurely located hire depot some 2 kilometres from our hobbit hole mid morning, treaking through a seedy part of town (cigar shops and massage parlors) to get there. After the usual signing away of our lives we soon found ourselves weaving in and out of the lanes on the wrong side of the road in order to get to freeway. Discovering that not only will the locals refuse to drive to the left we also found out they have poorly signed turnpikes. So after a couple of annoying diversions through back streets, some clever navigational skills from our (previously mentioned) guide we finally got pointed in the correct direction for Niagra. The locals don't seem to care so much about speed limits so join them we did. Wide roads, thousands of vechiles, grey dull skies, steam pouring out of factories and lakes as big as oceans sum up the journey.

Upon arrival at the falls town we were absolutely awe struck at the tacky commercialism/theme park ambiance of the place. Made even weirder by the lack of people. It's winter and mid week so there are places like the Haunted House (every day is Halloween... apparently) Ripley's believe it or not and the Guinness world record museum. What more could anyone possibly ask more for when all you started out wanting was a waterfall? The falls themselves are truly awesome. It was raining nearby. Just there. This is due to the mist the falls throw up from the sheer power of a million litres per second being thrown down 39 stories of sheer cliff. The sound of the thundering resonates through everything nearby. We took the plunge and went down in the tunnels underneath. This is where the power is truley experienced. Getting drenched in the mist and spray and splashes and rain we had a thoroughly enjoyable time snapping away with every device we held.

The 3hr drive back to town was uneventful apart from traffic congestion but there was no stress as we were in no particular hurry. Arriving in the dark at filling up for 95c p/l ( and wondering how this " world parity" thing works in Aus) We headed off to China town for dinner and then home via the skate park to grab more snaps.

Time in Toronto

Todays tour of Toronto Town took us to tons of terrific tourist traps. Talk about being teed up to tread the terrances of the transport tunnels which traverse the town. In other words - we walked the streets for many hours. After a few kilometrs our tour guide (Louisa) took us to the centre square Where the pool is is so cold they ice skate on it.

It'd unseasonably warm here at the moment. 6 degrees C max, with a cold biting winds coming off the artic tundra. And its about to get colder apparently. Finding some relief in a shopping mall we headed off to the old distilery area. Unfortunately no stils (or outcomes) were found. Just lots of corny stalls selling standard Canadian tourist items dressed up in Christmas themes. Still, the fur trees were covered in lights and tinsel and the choirs belting out carols was enough to put everyone in the sprit of the holiday season. And who'da thunk that Santa would actually have a Canadian accent? All this ambience was shattered one block away as we trolled off to the harbour by the reality of cold concrte landscapes of multileveled freeways and serious biting winds. The ferry to the island was well worth the trip - just to get a good view of the city. We didn't actually land on the island - apparently there is nothing of interest in the winter months. So we stayed on board and caught the return journey with all the tradies heading home for the day.

A journey on the underground street car system saw us back to base before heading out to dinner with Tim & Joy. It was a fine dining experience with lobster, calamri and steak gracing our plates. And so suffering from jet lag, exhaustion and lowered balances we headed home and crawled off to bed.

Canada - Getting There

35 hours on the go. 3 cars. 3 planes. 1 train. 8 conveyers Well over 20 queues and more than half the planet circumvented in kilometers. Luckily we are not stressed travellers (so when did that happen?) as the day started off with a late pickup for the airport and finished with chaos at the end. So whilst Kez had forgotten about us she still delivered in a timely fashion. The Qantas hop over the pacific was a long yet 14 restful hours.

The transit through LAX was an army like precision drill as we were masterfully guided through the rabbit warren of that complex. Sunrise over LA and sunset over NYC from the air provided perfect bookends for the next 6 hour jaunt, with chapters of deserts and vast swaths of the middle America farmlands covered in snow in between. We were due for an easy 4 hour stopover at JFK airport in NY however due to the vagrancies of the weather, air traffic controllers and cheap airlines some one decided to cancel our next flight, potentially leaving we three stranded in the States and Louisa stranded in Canada. Patience and calm. breath deeply and don't sweat (after a full day of traveling that's the worst thing to do....). With some magic from a counter guru we swapped airlines, swapped airports via an Jamerican taxi driver ( hey the roads work here!) only to find our replacement flight was running 4hours late. Stay calm.. etc. etc. A cheap meal at the airport terminal cost us $150 au. Hmmmm might have to find a supermarket.... and so we headed low over man lit terrain to Canada. 90 minutes later were a reunited foursome hurtling down the freeways at 140 km per hour. And here we are, ensconsed in our warm basement abode looking forward to tomorrow's adventures.