The Northern Border
I have a nine-hour train journey to Niagara Falls today and because the earlier train was fully booked, I can only get to the American side, rather than the Canadian side, where I’m booked in to a hostel. Niagara Falls is one of those North American sights that just has to be on the list. On the train, I sit next to a guy from Long Island, who is travelling with his father and brother. They are really chatty and their accents amuse me, so the trip goes by quickly….as does the cooler of beer they have with them. I’m impressed they can all still stand when they get off at Rochester.
The only transport from the train station to the bridge border seems to be an extremely expensive taxi, which leaves me a block from the bridge just as the rain starts. I feel like a fugitive as I scuttle across the bridge in the rain, lugging my rucksack. After being stamped into Canada, I make my way through the tourist centre to the hostel. This area is mind-bogglingly awful, full of amusement arcades, candy stores, flashing neon and cheap gimmicks – think side-show alley on a more permanent basis. It’s also full of families with tired, whining children at this point in time.
The hostel provides a nice contrast. It is on a quiet side street, not far away, and the owners are really friendly and just a little too talkative. After drying off, I head back down the hill to go and see the fireworks being let off by the American side. The falls are impressive, but I’m tired and hungry, so I don’t spend long there. Dinner consists of a side order of Caesar salad, which would have been big enough to be my entire meal, and prawns cooked with cherry tomatoes, feta and garlic, served with crispy baked naan.
The Niagara Parkway
I get up bright and early for the free, healthy hostel breakfast of yoghurt, muesli bars and fruit, and then jump onto a mountain bike to go and explore further away from the carnival and crowds. I kind of wobble my way down the street as it’s been a while since I’ve ridden a bike, but it all comes back quickly.
I head away from the falls, to a point further down the river where it narrows then opens up into a basin, creating a huge whirlpool. You can catch an aerial tram over the whirlpool or ride a jet boat on it, which looks fun but leaves everyone drenched. I elect to do neither and cycle round it. From here, there is a bike path that runs along the Niagara Parkway all the way to Niagara-on-the-lake, about 25 kilometres away. The river runs along the right of the path, while on the left is the wine route, with boutique wineries and orchards dotted along the road. The path is lined with trees (some of which are maples of course – this IS Canada), all leafy and green, and birds flit along, while the occasional squirrel bounds across the path. It almost feels like something out of a Disney movie, except the skies are overcast.
I stop at one of the orchards and buy cherries, then continue to the town, which is a quaint village that reminds me of some of the small towns in Tasmania. By now, the sun has come out and people are strolling the streets. I pick up a sandwich and head back to the path, stopping on the return route for a mini-picnic by the river. It’s a long cycle back and I wonder why no one has invented a comfortable bike seat. By the end, I am riding standing up as my bottom hurts so much from the effort.
I take the long way back to Niagara from the hostel and walk along the falls. There are actually two sets of waterfalls. The first is on the American side, which means you get a better view from the Canadian side. The second is Horseshoe Falls, which is technically on the Canadian side, but curves all the way around. I was going to jump on the Maids of the Mist boat tour, which takes you into the mist created by the force of the water, but watching the boats, I realise it means being crowded onto a boat with a waterproof jacket and probably not seeing anything different. I admire the falls from the banks instead. The sheer volume of water is incredible, matched only by the sheer volume of tourists. I take the obligatory thousand or so photographs, then go in search of a belated coffee for the day.
After dinner, I go back down to the falls to watch the firework display again, this time
provided by the Canadian side. It is not on until 10pm as it takes that long for it to get dark enough. At night they also light the falls, with projected spotlights turning the water different colours, creating even more photo opportunities.
Walking back to the hostel, over one block there are groups of people frozen in set poses. I overhear someone explaining they are arts students and this is part of a project. They are very good at remaining perfectly still in a static scene. It’s unnerving.
Friends in Far-Flung Places
Today is another full travel day due to badly timed transport and the sheer width of Canada. I have a train to Toronto at 11.30am that takes around two hours, then a plane to Calgary, which doesn’t leave until 6pm. At least I have plenty of time to work out how to get from the train station to the airport. I grab a quick bite at the station in Toronto, then sit and people-watch with coffee.
When I board the flight, there are a lot of young French-speaking guys, I assume on a school trip. One of them is in my seat. I explain I think he may be in the wrong seat and he says he knows and I can swap and have his seat. This is not said as a suggestion – it's an order. Instead of my window seat in the front of the plane, I end up in a middle seat halfway down. I need to stop being polite.
When we touch down, we are not allowed off the plane as the ground staff can’t work when there is lightening. We are trapped for around half an hour, but finally I get through and meet Sue, another friend from my Hokkaido days, who I haven’t seen for 14 years or so. We head back to her place and meet an opera singer who is billeted with her while he does a theatre course for a few weeks, and a couple of her friends, who have provided dinner. I’m developing a taste for ribs and catching up with friends from different stages of my life is a real journey down memory lane.
Cowboy Hats
We have a slow start to the day, then walk around the nieghbourhood, stopping for lunch at a funky little café called Eat Eat. I have lentil soup as a reminder of Dubai and a steak sandwich. We then head into central Calgary. The main street is really pretty, but there are not many people around. Apparently more than usual though, due to the Calgary Stampede, a ten-day rodeo event that takes over the city. Sue told me about the Stampede 14 years ago and I've never forgotten, so I timed my visit to coincide with the cowboy-fest. The Stampede also explains the abundance of cowboy hats on the locals. Calgary has the feel of a sleepy agricultural town, despite a population of over one million. It is the biggest city in the province of Alberta, but it feels like a country town.
We stop for groceries on the way home and Sue cooks up some pork chops rolled with spinach and cheese, with potato salad, and a green salad with blueberries (mental note: blueberries are a great salad addition). We sit outside and eat in the garden. It’s colder in Calgary than anywhere else I’ve been, but I’m fine with a sweater. This is summer though? We round the meal off with Pecan Pie, which I’ve never had before. It’s good – a pie crust with a kind of sweet jelly, topped with pecans. It’s all crunch and toffee-nut flavor.
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