I am Mill Girl and I skate on the backs of a thousand snails

Hey, I'm alive. I did not die at the scary motel for one. And it was super nice to have water pressure again. Even if, for some reason, I didn't want to touch anything in that room. Pro tips to the owners: Don't sit outside the ONE customer's room (presumably) to get a better wifi signal, and don't try to peek in her windows first thing in the morning to see if she's up. Weirdos.

I headed south this morning and immediately ran across a field of sheep that could not have cared less about me. Jerks.

Today's adventure entailed about seven minutes of driving from Windsor. I'm in Wolfville for the next three nights.

Wolfville is a college town (Acadia U has a truly nice campus) with assorted pubs and nice walking paths. And everywhere you go, you are able to see the amazing Fundy Bay.

Psst--everything glorious is behind you. Stop staring at me.

My first stop of the day was the Grand Pre historic site.

Grand Pre is a memorial to the deportation of neutral French Acadians who lived off this land in the 17th and 18th centuries.

We were living like this.

And the British did this.

Then, to add insult to injury, they did this.

This historic site, however, is different from others I've seen in Nova Scotia in that it doesn't call out the British so much as New Englanders. Sacre bleu!! Now I'm confused. I'm angry at myself for deporting myself. Did my maternal grandfather's side of the family (Massholes since 1630) fight against my maternal grandmother's side of the family (Acadian since 1630)? Frankly, that is an eerily accurate depiction of their relationship. No wonder I'm thirty-blah and don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life.

Longfellow wrote a piece called Evangeline about the deportation and a heroine named, well, Evangeline. Evangeline gave a face to the history, so everything in this area of NS is named after her. The scenic road up the coast is the Evangeline Trail. There's an Evangeline Campground. It goes on and on. Kind of like how Salem, MA, whores out that witch incident.

Anyway, here is Evangeline in all her sorrowful Acadian glory.

 

The church behind her houses documents, maps of where the Acadians were taken at this time, paintings, etc. Also there are plaques listing all of the last names of the families deported. I recognize a lot of names from childhood classmates when I come up here. Funny that so many of us have a shared history that we didn't realize back then. That's kind of the stupidity of being white. America is not a melting pot. White America is a melting pot. And it means there is very little cultural identity beyond skin color. Being an angry, proud 'Merican is enough for a lot of people. Feels kind of bland to me. *steps off soap box*

Comeau and proud

Where was I? Oh yeah, Grand Pre and its pretty walking grounds.

The welcome center shows an impressive film beforehand and then has a room full of artifacts and documents.

Remember yesterday when I was wicked flip about that old building? Um, that was Fort Edward. And looking at this roster, I see that Comeaus were imprisoned there. Sorry, forefathers. I did not know.

Down the street and around a couple corners from Grand Pre is the deportation cross, marking the spot where they believe Acadians were forced onto ships to be taken away.

 

***

Enough of all this somber beauty! Let's talk about the good stuff. Like the fact that pen aficionados might be impressed that I found the last holdout of BIC fine print accounting pens from the 80s right here in town (I know--white barrel would have been even better). If you know pens, you know how well these write. I did not buy any. Yet.

 

And I'm surrounded by vineyards! So happy to see hillsides planted with grapevines. Last time I was in this area, I think there was only one vineyard. You go on with your bad self, western NS! And starting August 2, they are doing daily vineyard bus tours of the area. I will come back someday to ride this magical bus.

I may have picked up a little somethin' somethin'.

For the next three nights, I'm staying at a motel/cottage right on the bay, looking out at Cape Blomidon. This tiny place has about seven rooms and two apartment-type spots with water views. Guess what I went for.

Entry/den area

Kitchen/dining/bed area

The view from the den.

Now before the water came into the bay, I decided to try walking out on the ocean floor. Other people were doing it, so why not? I was determined to reach the water, so I knew this would be a long walk in mud.

But the mud is actually pretty gross, and I began to regret this life decision partway in. The motel started to look very far away.

I had to abandon my shoes and just walk in the slop. Higher up on the beach, it's like walking through cooked brownies. Closer to the water, it's like walking through brownie batter. (A chocolate comparison--quelle surprise.)

Then I realized something awful. Inside other people's abandoned footsteps were LOTS of snails. And all around me were little holes in the mud. Then as I walked I could kind of feel them. I was walking on a bajillion snails. At this point, I was so far out I didn't know if I should carry on and reach the water, slop it back, or just stand there and cry. I decided to walk all over the helpless little snails. "ME MILL GIRL! ME KILL DEFENSELESS SNAILS WITH GIANT, CHUBBY, MUDDY FOOTS! ARRRG!"

If you've been to New Brunswick, Hopewell Rocks this is not.

Eventually I made it back and decided I never need to do that again. I watched the tide come in. And here's my shot of vacation feet: The Canadian edition

 

 

 xo

Tidal bor-ing

First I want to give a shout out to my new friends Jodi and Ian from Vancouver. They made breakfast way more fun at the inn. Glad to see you made it to Hopewell Rocks. Holla!

Unfortunately this was my last day in Mahone Bay. And in the last moments of taking in the view of the bay, the devil's hand puppets decided to close in.

That's right--run away, you little buckwheat-crying bastard.

First stop today was slightly inland. Ross Farm is, yup, you guessed it, a living history museum. I'm nothing if not consistent, right?

And I don't know about you, but for me nothing screams 19th century living like the roar of a lawn mower.

Kid, you're  not fooling anyone. You definitely didn't take a sickle to the grass.
 

I was standing here when a little girl walked over slowly and softly said to herself, "Sheepies..." Kid after my own heart.

It was right about here when a different little girl started talking. "I come here all the time." I looked both ways and realized she was talking to me. Being so awesome with kids, I said something brilliant like, "Oh yeah?" Then I heard a voice coming up behind.

Woman: You don't have sunglasses on!
Girl: Yes, I do.
Woman: You do. But she doesn't.
(I turn slowly to see this fidgety, skinny, older lady, the girl's grandmother, tromping through tall grass to get to me more quickly [and probably picking up 40 ticks along the way])
Woman: You should wear sunglasses. It's important for your health.
Me (It's immediately clear I'm not going to escape crazy, so I'll just engage): Me? It's a funny story--I was here 12 years ago and my sunglasses fell into the pigs' pen. So now I just wear my trusty sun hat (pats hat, which sits firmly on head blocking out sun).
Woman: You may be too young to remember, but the sun used to be yellow (what the fuck?). It's not anymore. (She looks up at the sun for a second more than I think she should.) It's white now. White blue. There is a new UV light on us, and it's causing blindness and no one wants you to know. (Except her, clearly.)
Me: Yeah?
(I've noticed at this time that the little girl has wandered off. It must be tough knowing your grandmother is batshit crazy at such a young age. I was much older when that truth hit.)
Woman: words words words UV light that will penetrate clothing (begins to jab at her leg to show me how the new UV light will hurt) words words the weatherman tried to tell us, and then he was FIRED. (I can feel a drop of sweat roll down the small of my back. Funny that she doesn't get the irony of trapping me in an open field to talk about UV danger--and it's no use trying to point it out. She clearly has no sense of humor.)  words words words . . . but don't listen to ME. Google it. Google Charlie (something) plus weather. FIRED. And now I see all these children here without sunglasses and it breaks my heart. (Starts to walk away.) Google it!
Me: Will do.

Incidentally, if this is true, I'd love to hear a rational explanation. Her approach didn't suit me.

Life goes on.

The damn animals wouldn't stand still for pics, so here's the inside of the barn.

Hot sheepies

Piggies staying cool in the mud. And they have eyelashes for days...

He was hiding and scared the shit out of me. Well played, rooster. Well played.

There were about 15 women in full garb sweating their lady balls off inside. I didn't last long.

AAAACCKKK! CAN'T LOOK AWAY! EYES BLEEEDING!

My reaction to seeing this horror show.

 

 

And he didn't even hold her afterward.

 

  ***

Well, no ocean smell, scarred by pig fucking in broad daylight with kids around, and then stuck behind a tractor forever. I'm officially leaving the eastern shore of Nova Scotia and entering the western farmland.

This guy was driving to Manitoba, I swear. I stopped 14 times to take stupid pictures and every time ended up right back behind him.

So this is my "free" night. No reservations, no plans, still blinded by what I've seen and considering sunglasses. I decide to play it safe and just hunker down in a small town. I pick Windsor, the birthplace of hockey.

I love info centers in Nova Scotia. Are all info centers just as awesome and I never have a need to enter? Either way, the wifi allows me to catch up on super important facebook feeds, the people running it are enthusiastic, and while I couldn't find any accommodations online, they were able to hook me up quickly. "It looks rough outside, but it's very clean. And they never fill up, so if you drive over right now, you'll have no problem." So I drove right over to the Bates Motel lovely roadside motel they recommended and treated myself to a king-size bed for $80 can. Booyah.

 

I admit it is clean, and these poor people are trying. But they're missing the mark on a few things. And why am I the only one here?

I decided to go back to the center of town to check out the situation.

This is something important. The oldest something in someplace. Sorry. It's been a long day.

This is an action shot to show you that pumpkins are important here. Beneath the tree to the right were all of the town's malcontents swearing more than I do. Frankly, that was scary. No one should swear more than I do.

I'm now going to be along the Fundy Bay for a few days. World's largest tides. I love this shit. And I know that no one else cares. I'm still going to show you pictures of it. My blog, my rules.

Do you see how far out the water goes? It's awesome. And I believe that ridge in the distance is Blomidon. I'll take you there in a day or so.

 

Okay, so the tidal bore. Essentially it's the filling back up of the bay. The whole bay and all its rivers fill up like a bath tub. And it starts with this one wave that comes in from the ocean and just keeps rolling through. It's a pretty awesome thing when you think about the size of Fundy Bay filling back up. And all the brochures show people rafting the tidal bore and holding on for dear life.

Wheee!

This is not what I witnessed. In Avondale (I think that's the town), you can pull up a driveway and park behind a guy's house and watch the show for a small donation. The view was awesome. This will be EPIC, I thought to myself.

 

 

Look at all the empty bay just waiting to be deluged by the tidal bore.

But the reality is this.

It's just a small wave that comes in and fills up the bay. So, it's neat, but not exciting, per se. No holding on for dear life here. That must be elsewhere in Fundy Bay.

The info center ladies said I could see the tidal bore come in from the guy's back yard and then ride down the road and see it come down the river. The first show was so breathtaking, I figured I'd get my fanny to the river. And at the river, there were three couples--one from North Carolina and two from this town. The couples from this town are 70+ and have never seen this before. BECAUSE IT'S BORING. But they were super friendly and we all chatted.

 

Here it comes!

Don't blink!

At least the view is beautiful.

 

I am flip, but in jest. The tidal bore was interesting, and I'm glad I saw it. I liked hearing it rush in. You could really hear the water surge. But it wasn't mind blowing. I still love the Fundy tides though.

I heart you, Canada. Even when you're not stunning, but merely human.

And you sell the sexiest gum I've ever had the good fortune to chew. Meow

HOURS later, and I'm still the only one at this motel.

I'm pretty sure I'll be fine here tonight. No problem. 

Mill Girl finally hits the big city

In all the time I've been coming to Nova Scotia, I've never truly touched down in Halifax. After several days in small, wide-open spaces, Halifax just feels really tight and confining each time I drive in. If the wiki page is correct, urban Halifax has a population of just under 300,000, less than half of Boston's population. But after walking beaches and driving country roads, I feel extra sensitive to all the noise and people in Halifax. However, this time I was determined to make it happen.

I parked in a frighteningly please-don't-hurt-me dark parking garage and felt my way out to sunshine, only to find several empty parking lots right on the water a block away. Lesson learned. Plenty of parking.

The walk along the waterfront is swankier than I expected. Several expensive condos above nice restaurants--I got my share of watching ladies sunning out on their decks with their lap dogs fidgeting over all the pedestrian traffic below.

I love that one of the most prominent pieces of art in Halifax is dedicated to drinking.

 

"looks on with concern"--we've all been there.

The Emigrant

The Halifax Seaport Farmer's Market is allegedly the oldest in the country. Several books and blogs direct readers there. It was huge! People everywhere--all colors, ages, languages. Overwhelming for me, but very awesome at a safe distance.

The chocolate samples...

I don't think there was a need that wasn't met.

 

The smells were awesome--so many foods: Polish, African, Jamaican, Indian. Something about the smell of cooking pierogi when you missed breakfast at the inn...

After that, it was time to hit the streets.

What a cute tugboat.

"Who, me?"

Yikes. When the tugboat got creepy, I headed away from the waterfront. I have been wanting to go here for a long time.

They had their first burial the day after they arrived.

And the award for prettiest sad tombstone goes to . . .

Kind of hard to read, but can we just pause here for a second and zoom in?



They lost SIX babies.

A young woman was sitting by a monument by the entrance to the cemetery. She had approached me earlier to let me know she could answer questions or give a tour if I was interested. "Just browsing!" I said cheerfully at first. Now I went back to her--"They're all babies. This is so sad. Why? Living conditions?"

"It's mostly mothers and babies, yeah," she said. "A lot of women died in childbirth." She explained that, as a port city, Halifax got every imaginable disease. Aside from that, the sewage situation was deplorable and even though there were 20 (twenty!) doctors in this first colony, they just weren't able to help. The first hospital was built across the street from this cemetery, which was probably more for convenience than anything else. I asked her about doctor training, and she said they were all trained in Scotland at that time but it was a rather dark time for medicine. And there were several apothecaries, but training for that profession...?

This young woman was a wealth of knowledge. I would have stayed longer just to listen to her talk, but I would have seemed weird after a while. So, you know, if you're in the area, stop at the sad cemetery for some good chit-chat.

I would just like to point out that this 18th c. church has an open mind. So what the hell is wrong with half of 20th c. America?

 

Seriously, this is a café. No, I didn't enter.



I walked by a woman who randomly started talking to me. I didn't have anywhere to be, so I stopped and listened to her. She was just a simple-looking woman in shorts and a tshirt. "You know if the 9 bus is going to stop here? With all the construction, I don't know if it's gonna come by here, and I have to get to the picnic." I love this--people who talk about things as if you know what they're talking about. Zero context. It cracks me up. We talked for a while. Turns out she was late for a church picnic at Point Pleasant Park and she was afraid the children were all getting hungry waiting for her to say the opening prayer before they could eat. I offered my phone in case she might call someone at the picnic, but she didn't want me to put it on roaming just for her. Then a guy showed up, they did an elaborate handshake, hugged, and both started talking to me. Good stuff.

I'll have you know, incidentally, that I was mistaken for a native three times. Though I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad sign, frankly.

Like I mentioned yesterday, It's Pride Week(s) in Halifax. Ten days. There was a lot of supportive signage (my favorite being the tea shop that stated, "We brew both ways"), flags, couples, etc. And while I think it should be Pride Week every week, it made me happy to see a city open its arms. This sign outside the library stopped me for a sec. I would love to attend the James Baldwin dialogue. Guessing that won't work out, but it's in the back of my mind.

Halifax Public Gardens...

 

 

 

Is that an almost-duck-size Titanic? I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Despite my sister in law's skepticism regarding the possibility of warmth anywhere north of Virginia, it was damn hot in Halifax. And all the walking around in the sun had me spent after five hours. So I headed back to the inn and sat out on my deck for a few hours of blissful silence. Just birds singing, stupid guinea hens, views of the bay, and sunshine.

Today I pack up and start to head west. Tonight is a "free" night--no destination. We'll see where I land. My next legit reservation starts tomorrow. Cheers!