Oh, Canadia!

Last Saturday, His Grace, Grigsby, hit three milestones.  First, he turned 2000!  [*applause*]

Next, he took his first boat ride:  A trip on the Lake Champlain ferry from Vermont to New York.  [*applause*]

They didn't have a life preserver in his size.  Good thing we didn't capsize!

And finally, Grigsby went international.  We traversed the St. Lawrence River at the Three Nations Crossing and found ourselves smack dab in the middle of our 51st state, Canada.  [*applause*]

Canada on the Left.  America on the Right.  In more ways than one.

Now, we joke about Canada being just another one of these grand old United States, but seriously:  The Canadian border guard didn't even look at our passports, or any other identification, for that matter.  He just asked us where we were going, why, and for how long.  So either they really are all secretly Americans up there, or they're just desperate for visitors.  Or maybe the border guard had a man-crush on Grigsby.  Yeah, that's it.

As soon as we crossed over, the landscape was totally different.  Instead of the rolling hills of the northern Adirondacks, it was flat flat flat, long straight roads that extended to the horizon.  Or more accurately, Ottawa.  Or even more accurately, my friend Richard's balcony, which was awash in margaritas and bourbon sours lovingly crafted by his Dutch-Canadian hands.  (I'll call Richard "R2" so you don't confuse him with me, the original Richard).  As with Joe and Wendy, R2 was concerned that I was running late for cocktail hour, so he did what any other self-respecting highly functioning alcoholic would do:  He started drinking without us.  (Note, he was not alone.  His friend Biz was also there.  But if she hadn't been there, he would have started drinking without us, trust me.)

By the time we arrived, R2 was a few sheets to the wind.  But Jenny and I rapidly caught up.  And five hours later, around midnight, I was passed out on the couch.  R2, Jenny, and Biz evidently did a late night walking tour of Ottawa whilst I was unconscious, but I have no verifiable proof of that.  R2 did have a healthy bruise on his arm which he said came from a tumble he took in MacLaren Street, but really, that could have come from anywhere. 

Anyway, we woke up the next morning a little worse for the wear.  Nevertheless, after some ibuprofen, hydration, and mid-morning naps, we set out to explore Ottawa.  First stop, Hogwarts.  I mean, Parliament.

Jenny and R2 in front of the building where the cigarettes are made.

The Parliament buildings are rather impressive in that "let's make this look like ye olde England" sort of way.  They're full of fun detail work, including animals and fantastical creatures of all stripes.

Canada.  Land of Unicorns.  And rainbows.

We then enjoyed a leisurely brunch at Social, where I had duck confit hash with a poached egg and duck gravy.  And we shared a pitcher of sangria.  The combination instantly cured me of my hangover.

Social was right by Ottawa's Byward Market, which is an open air market full of fruit/vegetable/flower vendors and surrounded by bakeries, cheese shops, junk shops, bars, restaurants, etc.  We wandered around the market checking out the stalls.  And we spent an inordinate amount of time in the cheese shops just breathing in the funky, cheese-soaked air (plus, they were a lovely air conditioned break from the unseasonably hot day in Ottawa).

We also ducked into the Moulin de Provence bakery, which, judging from the photos of Barack Obama everywhere, is the "White House North."  President Obama stopped by the bakery on his state visit to Canada back in February, and the operators of the bakery won't let you forget it.

Please keep the inappropriate jokes to yourself.

But the official "Obama Cookie" looks suspiciously Canadian, yet more proof that Canada is simply a rump U.S. state:

Everybody sing:  I've got the whole country in my hands.

Or wait . . . .  Maybe it means that Obama is secretly Canadian, not Kenyan!  Yeah, that's it.  Produce the REAL birth certificate, Canada!

Late afternoonish, we realized that our big brunch and hair of the dog had actually made us sleepy, so we all went back to R2's to nap. 

We got up in time for dinner at Town (chicken liver crustini, cheese-stuffed meatballs, fig/prosciutto/fried ricotto salad, valpolicella, etc.), and then we walked back down to Parliament for the laser light show.  Yes, a laser light show.

I must say, I was quite impressed with the show.  It had the potential to be horrendously schlocky, but it was only mildly so.  (They wisely kept the Céline Dion soundtrack to a minimum.)  The voiceovers recounted Canadian history, geography, climate, culture, and hopes for the future.  And many of the actual lighting bits were very cool.

Christmas in July!

I was actually kind of jealous.  There is no way that something like this would be permitted on the U.S. Capitol.  First of all, Americans are too uptight to try something interesting and different like this on the Capitol (which is pretty much a useless building, anyway).  Plus, there would be ENDLESS fights over the content.  The TeaBaggers would want to, as always, rewrite history, and Democrats would sputter and grouse and eventually cave in, but then the TeaBaggers would cut funding anyway because a light show is socialist.

Anyway.  After the light show, we staggered back to R2's and collapsed for the night.  We got up bright and early the next morning, R2 went to work (well, OK, he "telecommuted"), and Jenny and I loaded up Grigsby and hit the road.  Many, many thanks to R2 for being such a wonderful host and emissary for his people.