Category Archives: Travel

Are the Quebecois snobs?

 

I used to think Quebecois were snobby, ill-tempered and totally dismissive of English tourists. Not anymore.  Everyone I encountered in Quebec laughed at me, rightly, for my pathetic lack of French. But they did not insult me or ignore me. They were actually polite and courteous. Even gentle.

It was a bit humiliating to ask Christiane constantly for translations. But that just shows up my ignorance. In Europe everyone speaks multiple languages and make no fuss about it. My German is terrible and my French non-existent. No doubt, I am ignorant and the French tolerated this without objections or mockery.

The French in Quebec have done quite well at preserving their language in the face of the overwhelming English language domination across all of North America. It really is a remarkable achievement that should be celebrated, even though they had to take some Draconian measures to make it work.  Like language police. But I like that they were able to do it. Almost everyone speaks French here. And many speak English too. Many more than those who speak only English. They like me, are in the ignorant minority.

I like the feeling of being in a different country. I know some don’t like it. I do. If you don’t, you should not go to Quebec. Then you are the snob..Snobs are in the eye of the beholder.Literally.

Religion and Art in Quebec

 

 

I must admit this photograph was taken of a church in Quebec town the name of which I neglected to take down. But I would be willing to bet it was named after a Saint. Quebec has hundreds of towns name after saints.  I never knew there were so many saints. We  don’t have any in Steinbach unless you count Andrew Unger.

You would be forgiven if you thought Quebec is a very religious province. This is an illusion.  It once was, but it is no longer. It’s not just that French women don’t want to have a lot of children anymore. Though that is part of it.  Quebecers also want expressions of religion, particularly by government officials, to be kept private.  They want a secular state. I agree with that to some extent.

The state should not impose any religion. No religions should be official. In fact, if you like religion, you should ensure the state stays out of it. The United States is one of the most religious countries in the world, and I think that is partly because it has insisted right in the Constitutionon that no religion could be “established” there. It is called the non-establishment clause. Many people think that because no religion was allowed to be established by the state each religion had to compete for adherence. Hence those religons have remained vibrant.  In states where there is an official religion, often it does not have to compete and hence the approved religion quickly loses its luster. Freedom of religion leads to robust religions. Established religions lead to stuffy religions. Freedom of religion includes freedom from religion and that is for the best, even for religions! Freedom from religion is important for others besides atheists.

In Quebec they try had—some would say too hard—to maintain a secular state. Just like France, eventually people rebelled against the dominance of the Catholic church and this spelled the doom of the church.

In Quebec I often get the feeling that art has replaced religion.  They are religious about art. They take art very seriously. Religion not so much.  Artists are everywhere and usually well respected. Priests and nuns are a dying breed mainly of old people who are literally dying out.

Yet Quebec also have magnificent churches. I took many photographs of them on our trip across Canada, and I usually tried to write down the name of the church. This time I failed to do that.

 

Notre-Dame-des-Neiges

One church I did take down the name was the church called Catholic Church Notre-Dame-des-Neiges in the city of Trois-Pistoles, Quebec on the south shore of the St. Lawrence River.  It was built from 1882-1887 and the architect was David Ouellet. The town is said to have been named for a silver goblet worth three pistoles, an old French coin, that was lost in the river in the 17th century. The coin is long gone. The church remains.

MAGA Canadian style

 

While in the Ottawa area, we learned about bullying on Parliament Hill encouraged by the current leader of the opposition, and no doubt, soon, the Prime Minster of Canada,Pierre Polievre . Bullies are popular in modern society, as shown clearly by our American neighbours. They are content to have one as a president.

I always thought Canada was a little better than that. Now I don’t believe that anymore. Pierre Poilievre aggressively insulted Jagmeet Singh the leader of the NDP who have entered into an agreement to support the Liberals as long as they would bring about a public dental plan for Canadians with a dental health plan.  Poilievre said Singh was a phony and fraud for not supporting the Conservative non-confidence vote which would have ushered in an election if it had passed. The mob on the hill was quick to join in the fray to harass Singh with foul language. These foul-mouthed bullies are MAGA Canadian style.

We live in the age of bullies. Even in Canada.

Time ain’t for Savin’

 

As we were leaving Ottawa, I phoned my brother-in- law for suggestions on how to get through Montreal. He recommended we avoid the 401 at all costs, as it was always jammed with traffic. In Ottawa we got lost and had to rely entirely on our GPS to get us out through Gatineau. He suggested a highway that was “sort of a Perimeter” and would be slightly better. Slightly better than the 401 is all we could get. We encountered what we considered serious traffic jams, but were glad not to experience worse.

After being in a virtual crawl for about an hour we almost missed our exit to get off the freeway. My French navigator woke up just as I was about to go by it, and told me to hurry to the exit because a slow highway tractor was allowing me to dart in.  I had to cross a solid line to do that but my navigator was very insistent. As only French navigators can be insistent. Unfortunately, a local traffic constabulary was parked around the curve and immediately engaged in hot pursuit of me.  When I stopped the car to take my lesson, the cars that passed honked and hooted with mirth. But then my French navigator proved her worth. She batted her eye lashes  at the officer and explained we did not know that was not allowed in Quebec. As a result, the officer let us off with a warning. No ticket.

 

As a result, we took what we called ‘the River Road.’ It was very interesting. It really was a long line of small towns without breaks almost all the way from Montreal to Quebec City. It was a very slow but very pleasant drive. We were content. There was much to see and we were meandering.

We finally got off the freeway east of Montreal near Trois-Rivières where we got onto the road that followed the St. Lawrence River. We could not make time on this road, but we are not in Quebec to make time.

Time was much too valuable for that. As Jimmy Buffet said, “Time ain’t for savin’, no, time’s not for that.” I would say time I is too important for savin’.

 

 

The Fanciest Breakfast Ever

 

In our modest Ottawa hotel we had the fanciest breakfast we ever ate. The hotel had what I would call a Persian Restaurant. We were the only customers. Our server was a striking Persian woman in an elegant black dress. The entire restaurant was in pink. Almost everything was pink. One wall was entirely pink with artificial pink flowers, candles, and fans. Asians know how to do fancy. There was a vast array of tables each with leather seats, but only one was occupied, and that was by us, and frankly I felt entirely out of place. I didn’t belong here, but I tried to graciously accept the lavish attention to our every need. Not just needs.  Even for things we would not have dreamed of needing. There was a video monitor with gorgeous scenes constantly changing.  The cutlery was gold. Not silver, gold!  Probably not real gold but looked extremely expensive. And in the background the most incongruous music—country music! I was blown away.

We were given buttons to use to electronically summon the waitress whether to pay or request further service. I had to admit it was efficient. The breakfast looked too good to eat. It didn’t seem right that such food would be served to peasants like us.  The food was excellent. She served us Persian tea with cardamon flavour. I had never heard of it before but it was delicious.

This entire meal was an otherworldly experience. We felt like we were in Iran dining with the richest people there. We felt like bacteria in this pristine and elegant establishment. It was one of the most unusual breakfasts we ever had.

Is it possible to have to much luxury?

Canada never ceases to amaze.

Sacrilegious in Prescott Ontario, but people are good

 

First, we again spent a leisurely morning on the rooftop of our B&B in Brockville.

We started our drive to Ottawa with various stops along the way. Our first stop was at Prescott another lovely riverside town.  We parked along the river and walked along the lovely riverfront and went for stroll.

We passed Shakespeare’s Garden which had some lovely flowers. Always worth a stop in my opinion. I love gardens. Sadly, I am too lazy to garden.

After that, I made a series of mistakes.

Then we saw 2 lighthouses. I also love lighthouses and we saw many of them in eastern Canada. first one was Prescott Rotary lighthouse named after the local Rotary Club no doubt. It is a rather small lighthouse and I doubt it ever operated.

The second lighthouse we saw was the Prescott Heritage Harbour Lighthouse.

Later I realized we had missed the best lighthouse of all, the Windmill Point Lighthouse. It is located on a height of land near the town of Prescott not in the town so we missed it. We would have had to travel a bit farther east, but had I known about it, I would have meandered there.  So it was the fault of inadequate research that I did not know it is there. A little advance research on a place is usually well worth the effort. I was bad again. That was mistake no. 1.

This was not the last mistake I made this day. Not by a long shot! But first we stopped for lunch at an Irish Pub. That is never a mistake.  This one was called O’Heaphy’s Irish Pub. And here we did something truly remarkable. We did not purchase any liquor. Just lunch!    It was sacrilegious to avoid liquor in an Irish Pub but we did it. And the lunch was great.

I ate chicken tenders and Chris dined on bangers and mash.  A friend of mine once said all Irish food is abominable, but this is a slight exaggeration. We had to eat inside the pub, rather than the patio because all the tables with chairs were taken. That was pity, because it was a beautiful warm afternoon. Inside the pub, there were 3 television sets going in sports bar style. I hate that style. Huge TV sets everywhere you look. No matter how diligent you cannot avoid these huge moving screens which draw your eye to them no matter how hard you don’t want to see them This bar though had sports on only 1 of them. The other two played religious preaching, but thankfully without sound. Sermons inside an Irish Pub really would be too much. That would also be sacrilegious too.

Maybe none of this should be surprising because earlier I misread a sign: as “God and Country Club.”

After that we set out for Ottawa our destination, where we had arranged to join my niece Shannon, her husband Colin, and daughter Teddy.  But half-way there when we stopped at a Tim’s for a donut and coffee, I realized what my big mistake of the day was. I had left my credit card at the gas station in Prescott earlier in the morning.  I couldn’t reach them on the phone so had to drive about half an hour back hoping they found it.  This was not my kind of meandering. And here I learned a valuable lesson. Most people are honest. A customer had spotted my card at the gas pump where I had self-served gas and the staff had it waiting for me to came back. Needless to say, I was very grateful. People are good.

After that we continued on to Shannon’s home where we had a delightful meal with them and their parents Harv and Barb Lane who had been at the same celebration of life.  Here we had another kind of celebration. She and Colin are outstanding cooks and hosts. Colin also took me for a spin in his BMW electric and show me how fast it could accelerate silently. It went 0 to 90 km. inside one city block in an instant.  It was frankly, astounding to a rube like me. The future is here.

Life was good again. Thanks to good people. Even though I was sacrilegious.

Taking Chances Under a City

 

A great source of pride in the community of Brockville to this day is the tunnel built for the Brockville and Ottawa Railway to join the timber trade of the Ottawa valley with the St. Lawrence River Ship route. It was  blasted underneath the city in 1860. It is called the Brockville Railway Tunnel, or the Brockville Tunnel.

It was the first railway tunnel built in Canada. Since 2017 it has been opened to the public as a free seasonal tourist attraction.  It was in actual use until the mid-70s.

I was a bit apprehensive to walk through the tunnel because water was dripping from the ceiling, but I learned on our short walk that the tunnel was designed to leak. Those engineers must know what they are doing. Right?

To me it seemed weird to have a tunnel is exists right under the city with water constantly leaking into it. How can that possibly be safe?

 

Samuel Keefer; who at the young age of 30 had been appointed to the highest engineering position in Canada and became the chief engineer of the Board of Public Works of the United Provinces, and he was opposed to the tunnel project. Instead, he recommended the rail line run around the high grade of the town from the west side of the city avoid the main hill and avoid going under the city.  That would have sounded a lot simpler to me.

However, in those days, Canadian railway builders were adventurous and decided to build a tunnel. Sometimes it seems those builders loved tunnels. They managed to convince the town of Brockville and other municipalities who would benefit from the tunnel to contribute to its construction. And it worked though financing was always in trouble right up to the time it was completed.

The bottom third and top third of the tunnel are lined with stones that are held together in part by water lime.  held together by water lime. The middle third is unlined and because water drips constantly it has created colourful formations along the walls.

The tunnel was built between 1854 and 1860 to allow the fledging Brockville and Ottawa Railway to connect the Brockville industrial waterfront area to the outlying areas lying between the St Lawrence and Ottawa rivers.

In 1853 a company was hired to construct it and signed a binding contract with them to do that. However, the next year they ran out of money and there was no federal government to guarantee completion as so often happens in modern contracts. A public celebration was held in 1854 with full masonic honours, but that was not good enough to guarantee completion. In 1855, notwithstanding the contract they ran out of money. Surprise, surprise, the projections were wrong. The municipalities had to pour in money to complete it.

Yet despite the problems it was completed and became the first of many railway tunnels in Canada.

Are Land Acknowledgements worth the Effort?

Brockville, like so many other places in Canada is treaty land and the people who live there are treaty people, as are we in Steinbach. Some of my friends are tired of land acknowledgments. Not me. I find them interesting and I believe they are worth thinking about when you hear them.  Here is the land acknowledgment I found on the website of Southeastern Ontario tourism the region where Brockville is located:

Land Acknowledgement

“We would like to acknowledge that the land we identify as South Eastern Ontario is the traditional territory of the Haudenosaunee (Ho-de-no-sau (“sho”)-nee), Anishinaabe (“anish-naw-bee”), and Huron-Wendat Peoples. South Eastern Ontario honours and respects the land, the people, and the Treaties. We are extremely thankful for the original tour guides of these lands and all that they have shared. All those that reside, work, and play on these lands are treaty people and we must honour the treaties in a mutually beneficial and equitable manner.”

 

What I want to acknowledge is that various peoples live here. Not just descendants of European settlers.  The settlers and their descendants are here because they entered into agreement with the local Indigenous groups to occupy it. Those European settlers and their descendants benefited tremendously from those treaties. The Indigenous people also benefited from those treaties. Everyone who lives there today, is a treaty person. We should not take those treaties for granted. Treaties are important for everyone. And as I have been saying, we should keep them up to date, or we will regret it.

The problem is that too many liberals see an injustice, mouth platitudes agains them and do nothing real to address thinking the find words are enough to prove their moral worthiness. Indigenous people and Canada need more than that.

Treaties have their deficiencies too. It all fine and good to signal our moral worthiness by making fine sounding statements. Acknowledging that one is aware of the fact of dispossession that occurred in America, and Canada too, when European settlers arrived in vast hordes but as

However, having said that, land acknowledgments have their deficiencies too. Kathleen DuVal wrote an interesting and critical article for the New York Times about land acknowledgements from an American perspective.

Du Val said, all too often, “they’ve begun to sound more like rote obligations.” That doesn’t mean the acknowledgements should be abandoned, it does mean those of us who like them need to get real. We have to actually do something or persuade our political leaders to take action on our behalf.

Du Val said this, “Instead of performing an acknowledgment of Native peoples, institutions should establish credible relationships with existing Native nations. What I disagree with is the word “instead.’  Rather I would say, “In addition to.” We need to do both. The acknowledgments alone are clearly insufficient.

She also pointed out, that the Native Governance Center in the U.S. said that unfortunately land acknowledgements have often “become an excuse for folks to feel good and move on with their lives.” Journalists Graeme Wood and Noah Smith have criticized such acknowledgements as “moral exhibitionism.” Land acknowledgements that lead people to think that is all they need to do  can become harmful and we must work hard to make sure we don’t fall into that that trap.

For example. Du Val claims that land acknowledgements can reinforce the harmful “myth of Indigenous disappearance. That myth is a long-time mental block in the US but I am not sure it is as common and in Canada. Perhaps my Canadian indigenous friends can tell me if I am wrong about that. If I am, then we must take active measures to disable the myth too and must not allow land acknowledgements to stand in our way.

Indigenous People in Canada and the U.S. deserve more than that. They deserve sincere engagement on the part of their countrymen and women. Its time for action following our words.

 

 

 

From Ancient Indigenous People to Resistance Against American Intrusions

 

 

Brockville is a city in Eastern Ontario in the Thousand Islands Region, one of the most beautiful places in Canada. We did not venture into that area this area, as we decided, unusually for us, to explore the city rather than the surrounding countryside. We had visited the Thousand Island region in the past and loved it, but today it was time to explore the city.

Brockville was previously inhabited by the St. Lawrence Iroquoians and later the Oswegatchie people. The St. Lawrence Iroquoians established a cluster of palisaded agricultural villages in the vicinity of what became Brockville from about 1450 until the 1500s. They were farmers! Before that the Point Peninsula People, as they are now called, inhabited the upper St. Lawrence River from at the least the Late Middle Woodland Period.

 

In the archaeological cultures of North, the Woodland period spanned a period from about 1000 CE until European contact in the 16th century. The phrase “Woodland Period” is a term used to describe prehistoric sites falling between the Archaic hunter-gatherers to the Mississippian cultures.  The Eastern Woodlands cultural region covers what is now Eastern Canada south of the Subarctic region, the Eastern United State, all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. It was a period of constant development in stone and bone tools, leather crafts, and textile manufacturing. The people also cultivated the soil and constructed shelters. Many Woodland peoples used spear and atlatls until the end of the period when they were replaced by bows and arrows. The southern Woodland peoples also used blowguns.  I was not aware of any of most of that before this trip.

Increasingly the people used horticulture and developed what has been called the Eastern Agricultural Complex that consisted mainly of seed plants and gourd cultivation. They also became less mobile over time and in some places constructed and occupied villages and even cities. The period from 1000-1400CE was a period of what has been called “intensive agriculture,” which was likely continued until about 500 years ago. The people also made use of pottery that arisen earlier during the Archaic period in some places. The forms of pottery were widely diversified.

During the period of 1000-200 BCE the Early Woodland period, included times when people engaged in extensive mound-building, regionally distinctive burial complexes, and traded exotic goods across a vast part of North America that involved substantial interactions with other Indigenous peoples of North America. During that time, many people relied on both wild and domesticated plant foods and mobile subsistence strategies to take advantage of seasonally available resource such as fish, shellfish, nuts, and wild plants with which the people were intimately experienced.  Pottery then was widespread across North America.

By 1751, the Oswegatchie people had occupied much of the north shore of the St. Lawrence in the region we travelled. They withdrew from the North Shore of the St. Lawrence after negotiating with the British in 1784

Later it was settled by United Empire Loyalists and the city of Brockville became named by one of Britain’s most famous Generals, Sir Isaac Brock. English settlers first arrived in 1784 when thousands of refugees arrived from the American colonies after the American Revolutionary War. They were often referred to as United Empire Loyalists because they continued their allegiance to King George III.  They struggled with the American colonies in the years 1776 to 1783 and these skirmishes seriously divided the loyalties among people in some of the American colonies such as New York and Vermont.

 

The British capitulated to the Americans in 1782 and when the six-year war, which ended with the Americans who remained loyal to the British crown being treated harshly by the Americans who saw them as traitors. Many of them lost their properties in America.

Many Loyalists chose to flee north to the British colony of Quebec and Great Britain opened up the western regions of Canada at the time called Upper Canada and later Ontario. In fact, the British crown purchased land from the First Nations so they could allocate land to the loyalists in compensation for their losses and then helped them to establish settlements.

The first settlement by loyalists in the area arrived in 1785 and the first settler was William Buell Sr. Christiane and I walked on a street named after him in Brockville.  Later in the evening we dined at Buell Street Bistro. Buell was an ensign who left the King’s Rangers in the state of New York. Locals called the first settlement Buell’s Bay in his honour. Later, in 1810, the name was changed to Elizabethtown and then even later, Brockville.

 

General Isaac Brock was a celebrated as a hero in the area and even a saviour by some in view of his success in repelling Americans and securing their surrender of Fort Detroit during the War of 1812. He was fatally wounded while leading troops up the heights near Queenston.

Brockville became the first incorporated self-governing town on January 28, 1832, two years before the town of Toronto.

A patent medicine industry developed there around 1854 and features such illustrious products as Dr Morse’s Indian Root Pills, Dr. McKenzie’s Worm Tablets, and later Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People. Those must be good.

Brockville along with many other towns in Canada West [now Ontario]  were targets of the threatened Fenian invasion after the American Civil War ended in 1865. In June 1866, the unruly Irish-American Brotherhood of Fenians invaded Canada! The raids were launched across the Niagara River from Vermont into Canada East (now Quebec).

Those unsuccessful raids were a significant catalyst to the confederation of Canada as the people of what became Canada saw their neighbours to the south as lawless ruffians who must be resisted.  Not that differently than today in other words. A year later, in 1867 the new Canadian Prime Minister John A. MacDonald called upon volunteer militia in every town to organize to protect the country from these American rabble rousers. That led to the organization of the Brockville Infantry Company and the Brockville Rifle Company (now called The Brockville Rifles).

Now in 2025 the American president is trying to lure, or perhaps bully, Canada into becoming the 51st state and make what he calls one big beautiful country.

Who ever said Canadian history is boring? Probably many, but not me.

 

Slipping the Surly Bonds of Earth at Monkey’s Speedway

 

Our purpose in going to Brockville on this trip was to attend the celebration of life of my late cousin Ernie Neufeld who died this year after falling down the stairs in his home. But before we got there we had a problem. Steinbach was in the news on account of overland flooding as a result of extensive rains. We were worried that our house might have been flooded so we called our neighbour Anne who had our key. She said water was very high in our backyard and hers so she had gone to check on our basement and found we had a big problem!  But it wasn’t what we thought. Our basement was dry. But it was stinky. It turned out that our freezer had been accidentally unplugged and all the meat inside it was thawed out and rotten. Stinky rotten. And we are on the first leg of a 5-week trip across eastern Canada more than a thousand miles away. That was my big problem. I had accidentally unplugged it when I was checking things out the day before we left. My bad. My very bad.  We were lucky to have the nicest neighbour in the world. She and her granddaughter cleaned it out for us! That is carrying neighbourliness to a very high level!

As I said, when we were in Brockville Ontario we attended the celebration of life of my cousin Ernie Neufeld.  It was held at the yacht club in the harbour in the centre of town near these buildings.

 

When I was growing up, Ernie was my closest cousin so I wanted to pay my respects and celebrate his life. It was a life well worth celebrating.

Ernie was 2 years older than I and much more sophisticated. After all, he lived in the Big Smoke—Winnipeg. So, he was the teacher; I was the student. He always willingly and happily taught me what I, as a rube, needed to know. For example, he taught me how to smoke. He also taught me that girls liked to kiss, though it took me a few years to find that out. After all he was 2 years older and much more advanced than I was.

Since there were many of his air force and Air Canada buddies at the celebration, I chose to speak  about his first flight which I had witnessed.  I thought this would be an appropriate topic because Ernie became a pilot when he joined the Canadian Air Force in Greenwood Nova Scotia where he met an elegant, and an exotic, young beauty, Margie, who became his bride. I was mesmerized. Then if that was not exciting enough, he moved from the Air force to Air Canada, because he wanted to get away from the military bureaucracy, but found that the one at Air Canada was even worse.  I learned this from one of his friends who also spoke. My  most exciting experience with Ernie was his first flight which I witnessed as a young lad. Ernie was also a young lad.

At the time I was visiting  in Winnipeg, as I did at least once a year. He and his mother lived with our Oma. Oma was fantastic!  She loved western movies. At least so we thought, for she took both us downtown by bus to see them. What a great Oma.

But getting back to his first flight.  I’m meandering again. One time, we went bicycle riding to Monkey’s Speedway in Winnipeg. This was a series of pretty large hills in Winnipeg near what later became Polo Park, and right beside the Assiniboine River.  The area was undeveloped at that time. So boys took it over, much like homeless people would today. Boys turned it into a park for riding bikes. The object of our endeavors was to drive to the top of a hill on our bikes and then down at incredible speeds. I could not believe how fast we rode. One of those hills had a smaller hill at the bottom. As we careened down, and after we hit that small hill,  we literally flew into the air as if on a ski jump. It was stunningly exciting.  But on one jaunt, Ernie flew so high into the air that “he slipped the surly bonds of earth,” and when he landed back on terra firma, he broke his arm when he crashed at the bottom.  His first flight ended in a crash. We had to call 999 [now 911] for help to rush him to the hospital. The police came first and they took us both to the General Hospital (now the Health Sciences Centre) where his broken arm was treated and put in cast.  It was all very exciting. But not too much fun for Ernie.

A friend of Ernie’s read this poem that apparently is often read at the death of air force pilots:

 

High Flight

By Jon Gillespie Magee Jr.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

of sun-split clouds,—and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air ….

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew—

And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

That was the day that Ernie first slipped the surly bonds of earth. I don’t know if he also touched the face of God but I hope so.