Papers, please

Just in time for the summer – and the new identification rules to get into the United States – picked up my new Special passport yesterday. Green cover, and it’s a bit thicker and heavier than the regular blue passport: not just the gravitas of being On Her Majesty’s Service , but it’s got double the pages (48), and hidden somewhere in the cover, one of those high-tech new radio-frequency electronic chips!

The info guide says it’s only detectable within 10cm of a properly-encoded reader, and for extra protection some of the data can only be picked up if the passport is open, and the machine-readable area (the bits at the bottom with the “>>>” characters) is scanned by a regular optical reader. The guide also says not only to safeguard it like a regular passport, but also clean, dry and unbent, like an “electronic device”.

There’s also a special note on the observation page that, even though the passport’s valid for five years, if you’re not actually on duty anymore you shouldn’t be using it, and have to return it to the Passport Office forthwith. So you can’t just use it instead of coughing up 87$ for a regular blue one to use for international trekking and backpacking that’s not at Her Majesty’s pleasure – sorry, no freebies here.

Despite all the high-tech measures, it’s still got all the classic essentials of a passport: on the front cover, the Canadian coat of arms, and on the reverse, a scripted request from the Minister for Foreign Affairs (and perhaps International Trade, depending on what the department wants to call itself at the time) in the name of Her Majesty for free passage “without let or hindrance” and “such protection and assistance as may be necessary”

And, most classic of all: an actual embossed stamp! You can just feel the official-ness with your fingertips

Passports are pretty neat. Last time I was at the Foreign Affairs and International Trade headquarters – “Fort Pearson” – there was a display of passports through the ages. The first one ever was just a regular letter-sized slip of paper with a note to the effect of what’s still on the inside-front cover today. English Royal seal at the top – the Canadian-ness only indicated by the “Passport, Canada”. (“Passport – by the way, Canadian.”) No photo of the bearer – just a name, their job, where they live, and a signature

Official Canadian Bilingualism (at least for the fields, not necessarily for the entries) and descriptors beyond job came along by 1922. Photos too, though it doesn’t look like there was a designated spot on the page for it, it was kind of just glued on in a convenient space on page 3. A bit more secure, but not quite the same standard expressionless mugshots you have to use now though

By the ’30s, things were looking a bit more official. Still had employment as the number-one descriptor, the language of entries were still at the whim of the passport clerk, and the separate “Wife-Femme” column suggests only men would be allowed to hold passports (unless there was a women’s edition they just didn’t have on display I didn’t see). But now there’s at least a proper space for the photo

Foreign Affairs and International Trade (or whatever it is calling itself nowadays) saves the most convenient documents for themselves though: simple credit card-sized IDs you can keep in your wallet, no booklets to forget or misplace

Who knows, maybe booklet passports will go the same way too. Visas and stamps replaced with electronic “permission” tags added to your chip as you cross the border. You won’t even have to show your card anymore – you’d just walk up, and as you approach the radio-frequency reader it would “stamp” the chip, and you’re set! No more lines to queue through, no more cold sweats standing in the immigration line as you hear your flight being called for boarding

Yet there is still something irreplaceable about the passport. It’s the tangible, legal expression of nationality; anyone can tack a flag on their backpack, but a passport – you need at least two years of permanent residence, a guarantor to vouch for your identity, and 87$ for that. People move, marry, invest in other countries just to get one; it’s what you wave at the embassy gates when you need help in a foreign land. At the airport you can’t help but peek at what documents people have in hand – colours of almost 200 nations distilled into blue, red, green or black with gold-embossed coats of arms

And, of course, the stamps. You can Photoshop yourself onto the Eiffel Tower or the Great Wall, and mail-order Andean sweaters and handfuls of Sahara sand – but you haven’t really been anywhere unless you’ve got a stamp to prove it

Looking forward to stamping the crap out of the new passport this summer!

Round and round, to the edge of town

Bus terminals are fixtures of Downtowns across Canada’s cities. Without fail, you can travel from coast-to-coast and manage to see what every city has to offer the moment you step off the coach. Wherever you are, arriving and departing from Downtown you’re guaranteed a first impression and last look to remember.

There’s Victoria’s, steps from the Inner Harbour, across the street from the Royal BC Museum, and kitty-corner from the Legislature

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Vancouver’s is co-located with the train station – fantastic ambience, and easy access to the Skytrain

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Edmonton’s is just at the edge of Downtown

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and so is Calgary’s

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Saskatoon’s is within a block of the city transit interchange

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and Regina’s across from the Casino – chance to cash in on a quick stopover

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Winnipeg’s brings you within spitting distance of Portage and Main

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while Toronto’s gets you right into the thick of the action at Dundas Square

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Ottawa’s is a bit of a hike from Downtown, but at least Bank St is entertaining as you head uptown

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Montreal’s drops you off in the middle of the Village

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and Halifax’s train/bus station, like Vancouver’s, makes for classic arrivals and farewells like you see in the movies

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It’s not just about giving travellers an attractive welcome to the community; nor is it just about making life convenient for rural commuters from the area to work Downtown; or promoting environmentally-friendly public transport by making it more attractive or useful; or supporting financially-conscious passengers like students who can’t afford hidden costs like taxi transfers to inconvenient stations.

Downtown terminals are part of what distinguishes destinations and places to be, from mere waystations you can’t wait to move on from. Even if it’s not your destination, city planners know that if you get a good impression of the place as you pass through and stop over, you’ll probably at least get off, look around – and spend – and maybe even want to come back. More importantly, you won’t think of the place as just another crappy highway backwater stop between real cities.

Since bus travellers truly are a “captive audience” as they cross the country, bus terminals are a fantastic opportunity for vibrant, desirable cities to establish and maintain their positive vibe. Comparison and competition between communities is inevitable when you’re on the bus – you see them all. Even moreso than airports – aircraft on hub-and-spoke routes cast all the attention to the big three (Vancouver, Toronto, Montreal); but bus terminals are where every Canadian city has a chance to make an impression.

Fredericton, however, is looking to lose its textbook-perfect Downtown bus terminal – with all the convenience, aesthetic appeal and tourist/traveller services like restaurants and cafés (ie, opportunities to spend money in the local economy) that comes with a Downtown location

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in favour of a middle-of-nowhere rental space at 150 Woodside Ln – with all the convenience, aesthetic appeal and services that come with a highway pullout (ie, none of the above)

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According to CBC Radio, taxi fare to the proposed site could run around 20$ or so depending on where you’re coming from. Seeing as how the bus fare to, say, Halifax is only 67$ (57$ for students and over 60s), that’s not just a minor inconvenience – you’re making travel 25-30% more expensive, just like that.

It’s not the bus company’s fault – after twenty years at Regent and King, they “would love to be downtown, but we just can’t find accommodations” since their landlord ended their lease this April. There is the abandoned train station site that would be perfect – walkable to Downtown, lots of open area, maybe an opportunity to get that same ambience as Vancouver and Halifax – and even the Planning Advisory Committee says it “might be expensive to redevelop, but it would be a choice location”.

I don’t know what’s stopping the City of Fredericton from coming up with a solution, intervening and making it happen. It could offer a loan, mediate with the current landlord, buy the land itself and operate a city-owned terminal (just like an airport), or even pull off a land-swap trade deal as it has before to secure the space – maybe another business that doesn’t really need to be Downtown would sell or exchange for a more appropriate plot the City might happen to own already.

Hopefully there’ll be some public outcry about this – too bad it’s come up just when a big chunk of the terminal’s primary users (ie university students) are all away for the holidays. (Hmm, coincidence?) It’s not just about making life convenient for us residents – but promoting a positive image and leaving a good impression with our visitors, and providing facilities you’d expect from a Capital City.

Seriously, a middle-of-nowhere highway pullout – “Welcome to Fredericton”? Definitely not what a city should be.

Québec City to Fredericton

Day 12: Québec City to Fredericton

Well, I wasn’t able to sleep after all. But staying up for a late-night look at the fortifications was worth it

You really could just stroll around and take pictures all day in a place like Québec. To mix medical and military metaphors, it’s such a high-yield target-rich environment. When you’ve got a camera, it’s impossible to resist

All levels of government pulled out the stops for the 400th anniversary of Québec – municipal, provincial and, kind of controversially, federal too. Controversial not because there’s any doubt about the importance of Québec to Canadian culture and heritage, but there really are people who say Ottawa should mind its’ business and let Québecoises and Québecois programme their own celebration. (Probably the same people who also think Paul McCartney’s free concert at the Plains of Abraham is like reliving the English “conquest” over the French and wanted it shut down.) So I wasn’t too surprised seeing this defaced Heritage Canada sign

If anything, I’m impressed whoever did it used red paint (instead of the usual Québec blue), which actually “erases” the Canada wordmark quite effectively, and settled for a clean, simple “X” instead of spray painting the usual obscene anti-Canadian hysterics and vitriol. It’s as classy and “respectful” (for lack of a better word) example of graffiti I’ve ever seen, to be honest. I’m surprised they didn’t “X” over the English text specifically, but maybe they were in a hurry.

Back on the road – no rush, it’s only a few hours on to Fredericton. It’s a chance to appreciate the subtleties of the Québec highway signs. Even though they’re all in outdated Series E face, the symbols are better-executed than, well, the rest of North America. Back in Montréal, the first thing you see

So simple: the “no right turn” symbol, and a red light, and “Île de Montréal” to tell you it’s the rule on the whole island. Clean and easy. No big messy panels that have to spell out “NO RIGHT TURN ON RED LIGHT” (or whatever the French equivalent would be – maybe “VIRAGE À DROITE INTERDIT SUR FEU ROUGE” or something). It would’ve been even more elegant if they just had a graphic to indicate Montréal, but since the metropolitan de-merger I guess they can’t just use the city logo.

On the panel signs, numbers are easy to read on the colour-coded shields, and instead of spelling out “EXIT” or “SORTIE”, there’s a branching symbol with a corresponding junction number – way clearer

And more of a cosmetic detail, curves in the road are marked with white-on-red chevrons instead of the usual white-on-yellow

English returns to the highway when you cross into officially-bilingual New Brunswick – I guess I’m home!

The highway signs aren’t as nicely done as Québec, but they’re pretty clear here too: no need for “EXIT / SORTIE”, the numbered tabs get the point across; junctions are marked not only with the connecting routes, but also the ones they extend to further down (here, the (2), leading to the (7); and the overhead arrows actually line up with the lanes below!

Coming from the Imperial glory of Old Québec, New Brunswick is so bucolic, pastoral – the registration plates used to say “Picture Province” on them, it’s postcard-pretty

though there must be something eating away at the trees around here

The Delta Fredericton – feels like I was just here, I think the staff are starting to recognise me. It’s going to be home for the new few days ’til my apartment’s ready and my stuff arrives from Victoria. Better get comfortable

Table and floor lamps abound – I wouldn’t expect any less. In fact I think my eyes might be getting used to it, dimming as soon as I’m in the room, expecting the overkill illumination. Better add lamps to my shopping list when I finally get to my apartment – whenever that will be.

Ottawa to Québec City

Day 12: Ottawa to Québec City

Ottawa to Québec City via Montréal. I lived in Montréal for four years but never once drove in it, so I have no idea what to expect. All I remember is that, along with New York City, it’s the only place in North America that bans right turns on red lights, because drivers were killing pedestrians all the time. And, highway overpasses tend to collapse in the area nowadays, because of the growing heavy traffic overloading the 50s-60s era design capacity and loads. Plus the signs will be in French.

The first overpass…

Phew.

And ahead – a double-overpass. Double-danger…

Phew, phew.

Actually, like Calgary was it’s a pleasant surprise driving on the Montréal autoroutes. Maybe I just lucked out on the timing getting in. As long as you keep up your speed and can keep traffic moving in tight packed spaces, you’re fine. Other drivers seemed to recognise the out-of-province plates and give a little – little – chance to squeeze in and join the lane. Again, as long as you’re keeping it moving, c’est parfait!

Circulation fluide – smooth sailing, easy-peasy.

The welcome sign sets the mood – fêtons nos 400 ans, Happy Birthday Québec! The rain might’ve thinned the crowds but it couldn’t dampen the charm

Definitely the best way to take the place in is just to walk around, soak up all that UNESCO World Heritage Site ambience.

Where most cities put their dumpsters and throw their garbage, Québecers put sculptures and art – only at a leisurely walking speed do you pick up on these little details that make this place so special

Though if you look hard enough, there are bus shelters camouflaged amidst the fortifications – OC Transpo red definitely wouldn’t fly around here

but if you can manage the steep hills, bikes are best for the narrow streets – wish I had mine along

Not that buses can’t get around 16th-century carriage width streets though – Québec has its own fleet of minibuses just for that. You can see they’re not much longer than a regular minivan or Toyota Camry. How cute! And better still, they’re free! And even better, they’re eco-friendly and electric-powered!

But if you have to have a car, I think these European streets are where my Rabbit feels at home

And of course, checking in at the Delta Québec – throwing hotel standards to the wind, distinct society that it is: no bedside table lamps at all!

I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Those wall-mount lamps are just off the wall, I’m totally thrown off!

Ottawa

Well, I didn’t make it out to the hospital. It’s ok – I still have pictures from earlier in the year

and knowing how hospitals change with time (ie get overcrowded and dirty and worse), it’s probably best to remember it as the squeaky-clean contagion-preventing newest-in-the-country Critical Care ward it was when I was rotating through two months ago. My ProxCard probably wouldn’t let me in anymore anyway. And come to think of it, since I always bussed it to work, I don’t even know how to get there by car either. It really was quite a sight to behold though, if you’re used to working in hospitals in under-funded health systems. (Yes, Alberta hospitals still rule the roost.)

Glass sliding doors and anterooms at every bed – you can doctor and nurse without passing contagious diseases from patient to patient now! And computers at every station mean you can actually follow-up on all those tests you order by rote. (Yep, there’s that Saskatchewan landscape on the desktop – maybe that’s part of why being on the ward always felt like home…)

Every ward bed has natural light – it’s been proven to help cut down on Critical Care delirium, when patients have natural light to keep their day-night cycles normal; older wards with no windows always led to prolonged admissions just because of that. Of course, making every bed face the outside just to have a window would mean obscenely-long hallways – not good when you’ve got unstable patients rolling in from the OR or Emerg – so there’s a skylighted “alley” terrace to let light into the “inner” ward

Just step down the hallway and you’ll see how quickly hospitals show their age – this section is about as old as me

It’s broken up into “modules” – blocks within the hospital megastructure, divided by a grid of hallways. Depending on which way you enter and which way you turn, the blocks may or may not come to you in any particular logical order, so they tried to make coloured trails to help you figure out where to go – not exactly the most elegant system, and not so helpful if you’re colour blind either

One reason to have gone back though – I used to pass by this door all the time

“Clinical Decision Unit”. I have no idea what that is, and I was meaning to take a peek beyond that door but never got around to it. I’m picturing some sort of inner sanctum – a Fortress of Solitude amidst the chaos of the Emergency Room, where staff got away from the din and mess, conferred with their colleagues over a dignified cup of coffee, comfortably reclined in leather club seats, a library of medical reference tomes at their fingertips, with busts of famed doctors physic presiding over the ceremony. Dilemmas would be discussed and options hashed out – admit/transfer/turf, medicate/operate/show-the-gate, live/die, etc – and staff, re-armed and re-moralised thus, would exit thence again into the fray, Clinical Decision in hand. And all is well in the world.

Whatever it is, I know that none of the other hospitals I work at have “Clinical Decision Unit”s… I guess it’s just laissez-faire medicine outside of Ottawa General; the rest of us don’t make decisions at all, we just hem-and-haw and let things happen.

Could’ve also gone and checked to see if they ever update this sign

I did, however, make it out to Westboro – if I ever have the chance to live in Ottawa, this would be my ‘hood

I always loved the pattern on the MEC store – it’s just corrugated aluminium sheets, the same thing you use for roofs on shacks and outhouses, but it’s such a neat and clean and simple solution to an otherwise blank wall

Though if you have the skill, resources, and some worthy subject matter, a proper mural can’t be beat – I can’t believe I never noticed this Ottawa Fire Department one before, I must’ve passed it a hundred times. Then again, I’ve never had to enter a parking lot in Ottawa ’til this visit

You really do miss out on so much when you have to drive around – at least, in a city where walking, biking or bussing is a feasible option, and you really don’t need a car to do anything or get anywhere. Eg, driving down Wellington St you end up in tunnel vision, and you’d have no idea the nation’s centre of government and democracy is just a few metres to your left

It really didn’t feel right at all, so I parked the car back at the hotel and got a bus day pass instead. Back on the Big Red Limousine, and the Big Red bus shelters to match – not the prettiest, or the easiest to keep clean, but they’re unmistakable OC Transpo

A nod to official bilingualism – all OC Transpo signs have to appear in both English and French. I’m just not sure which one is which is which here: “Lebreton” vs “LeBreton”. There’s also a third station sign there, to show this is the station for the War Museum.

I just missed the opening for the Deadly Medicine: Creating the Master Race exhibit last time I was here, but I definitely wasn’t going to miss it this time. It’s about the role of doctors and medicine in Nazi Germany and supporting racial policy: starting with the measurement and recording of things like head size and skin shades and eye colour (to first classify the races), then to marriage and child-bearing restriction (to prevent mixing and preserve purity), then to forced sterilisation (to stop the passing on of unfit traits), and finally euthanasia and outright murder (to remove inferior races entirely).

It’s a touring exhibit from the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, so under copyright they don’t let you take pictures in the gallery. On the one hand, that kind of goes against the social interest in learning about such history, and passing on the message to others; but then again, it’s set up not by a regular museum, but a memorial museum, so there’s an extra dimension of ceremony and dignity in visiting the exhibit. Plus you’re struck by the gravity of the displays and objects, you’d probably have a problem taking a photo anyway.

Horror – you feel it when you approach the artifacts: a set of calipers, the measuring notches counting out a patient’s race, and thence life or death; a genetics manual, illustrating the flowchart of the permitted and forbidden lineages; an escape-proof asylum door, chipped from the inside with scratch marks and fist-sized dents; a beige, steel crib, used to hold babies for gassing; surgical instruments for medical experimentation; an order on Adolf Hitler’s personal letterhead to proceed with the programme.

All layed out in order from the start to finish – once you get over the horror of it, you realise: there’s really a logic to it all, method to the madness. If you’ve come in with a science or medical background, it really, chillingly, cruelly, makes sense. One leads to the next; one cannot happen without that before it. It’s argued that people didn’t see things coming, that it was impossible to know how far things out would go. But when you see it in hindsight, it’s hard to believe anyone – especially physicians and medical staff – couldn’t see the progression of things and where they were going.

And – I guess this is my trying to make a positive spin – you see there are so many places that people in medicine could’ve organised themselves, stopped the programme and prevented it all. Which is why it’s so important for people, especially people who claim they see “the big picture”, to get involved in things like research and government programmes and the military, especially when they disagree with it. Sometimes people on campus protest against government and the military recruiting at universities for people into research, which makes no sense at all; programmes you disagree with aren’t going to just shut down because you “boycott” and keep away from them. You need to be in the system to do anything about what’s going on. Silly. [rant off]

Being a travelling exhibit, it’s Canadianised with official French translations, and references to local history and politicians and policy on top of the original American-written content. I think this is actually the most important part of the gallery: it’s easy to blame everything on the Nazis and Hitler, but these same ideas grow close to home too. There’s references to sterilisation programmes in various Canadian provinces in the early 1900s, plus Saskatchewan Premier and founder of Medicare (and official Greatest Canadian) Tommy Douglas‘ master’s thesis, “The Problems of the Subnormal Family” promoting sterilisation for the mentally and physically handicapped – coming out of a province with agricultural roots, the concept of separating healthy stock from the weak, and eliminating cross-fertilising isn’t unreasonable. You realise how easily and how quickly a twist of logic, and a willing people, can make the leap from something seemingly benign to something so destructive – which is why remembering this can happen here, too, is so important.

I know that doesn’t do the exhibit justice – it’s running until 11 Nov, so definitely go and see it.

There’s also a related exhibit at the National Gallery: The 1930s: The Making of “The New Man”. I actually did make it out to the opening of this one a few weeks ago when I was here. I’m even less qualified to say anything about art than Deadly Medicine, but luckily they had this French guy, a curator from the Louvre, come in and give the tour

Both Deadly Medicine and 1930 open with the same piece: a glass anatomical structure of a man, illustrating the various vessels and networks making up the body. The logical, technical advanced through the decade crossed over into both eugenics theory and art; the “Fascism” section of the exhibit shows how one was used to idealise and support the other, and vice-versa. The obvious pick: Leni Riefenstahl’s classic, genre-defining propaganda film, Triumph des Willens (Triumph of the Will)

Another Hitler touch, this actually hung in one of his personal residences in Munich: Reich Chamber for Visual Arts president (and Reich commissioner against degenerate art) Adolf Ziegler’s Die vier Elemente (The Four Elements)

The Louvre curator explained Ziegler’s intent (though this quote is from the Wikipedia article since I didn’t take notes)

His static, pseudo-classical nudes depicted ideal Aryan figures. In an interview with American playwright Barrie Stavis, Ziegler explained that a painting of a beautiful nude German woman encourages the ideal of a perfect body and gives German men the incentive to have many German children.

The real art connoisseurs in the crowd (ie, everyone except Philistine me) took notes and hung on his every word – pronounced in proper, classy France French, of course.

Before I left Ottawa I wanted to get a picture in front of the National Defence Headquarters sign. Being the national capital Ottawa’s the only place where government building signs don’t say “Federal Building” or “Revenue Building” – here, the structures aren’t mere branches or processing centres. No, here, the edifice is the ministry, the be-all and end-all, where respective departmental bucks stop. “Justice”, “Revenue”, and of course, “National Defence”

Our Pentagon isn’t much to look at, just your average concrete office building, but it’s right Downtown, on a nice setting by the Rideau Canal and Confederation Park

and it’s got easy access to transit – it shares an OC Transpo station with the Rideau Centre mall right across the street

Inside, it looks like the 60s-70s prefab concrete you see on the outside lined with terra-cotta flooring to accentuate the heel-clicking

with an array of medals and awards to inspire the staff who work here (and so you can decode each others ribbons too)

I don’t know if they award this one any more: “For Efficient Service”

They have a well-stocked library, with military magazines and defence reviews from around the world

plus some neat historical finds

It’s declassified now, so I can show you without having to kill you!

I tried to find an equivalent uniform recognition manual for the Taliban, but I think they’re still working on it.

Sault-Ste-Marie to Ottawa

Day 9: Sault-Ste-Marie to Ottawa

Around the hotel it didn’t look like much – where is everyone?

Then I found out where everyone was hiding – the Sault-Ste-Marie Rotary Club fair! Tilt-a-Whirl and un-named generic portable roller-coaster for the kids

and for the older kids down the street, the Rotaryfest Second Stage – “Celebrate Original Music in SSM”

I never would’ve guessed I’d stumble on an entire festival and street fair like that. That’s what makes cities great, they’re full of surprises. Even in far-flung “Northern Ontario”. I guess when you’ve got your own brewery

and brewery retail store, of course

and the world headquarters of Ontario Gambling

you’re guaranteed to have a happenin’ town. Not that it’s all fun and games though – they’ve got the essentials down pat too: street signs in proper Clearview face

and courtesies to the elders (or any men who wear hats and women with hair in prim, proper buns, too)

and banks in proper, trustworthy, stand-alone buildings – none of that strip-mall branch-banking-on-the-cheap here

It does look like the town’s seen better days

and I’m not sure what else there is to find in Sault-Ste-Marie, but I love it when cities catch me off-guard and surprise me like that. Wish there was more time to poke around… maybe next time.

The Sault-Ste-Marie to Ottawa segment is the longest chunk of this Trans-Canada tour, and I thought about getting a fancy GPS system for segments like this, to help count down the kilometres and chart the progress. EL’s handy hand-held portable model would’ve been perfect for these stretches; with the location tracking and mapping it can figure out exactly how fast you’ve been going, including those inevitable construction delays (more of that “Prosperity for the North” at work), and tell you how much longer you’ve got to go. But then again, there’s still something to be said for a good old stack of maps

It’s the closest you can get to being, say, Magellan – struggling with the oversized paper, folding/spindling/mutilating it into a manageable size, working off of these outdated charts passed on from explorers before you, trying to get your bearings off of the natural cues around and translate them onto the map to figure out where you are. Well, navigating off of highway signs isn’t quite the same as following stars in the sky, I guess, but you still have to watch out for them, they can be just as fleeting.

Google Maps can be handy too – sort of a grey hybrid area between the traditional map and the automated plotting of a GPS system

It’s easy to get tempted to race along on stretches like this, especially when the highway builds out multi-lane as you get closer to the city – so the police have kindly put up some reminders as you approach town

I’m not sure if they actually reduce speeding at all – most everyone was still running at least 130Km/h anyway. Maybe Ontarians just look at it as a menu. “Hmm, can I afford 140Km/h today? Or should I settle for the 110? Nah, it’s payday – 160 it is!” I don’t know if keeping up made me miss another sign, but all I saw coming in was the standard MTO panel

Checking into the Delta Ottawa – there’s the overkill bedside lamps again

and here – being the national capital, I guess – they up the ante: an entire living room suite, with side table and floor lamp

It’s nice to be back in familiar territory, Ottawa. CJ just moved into a new apartment – actually, back to his old apartment building from four years ago, but in a different room. With a car this time it might be a good chance to do another IKEA run and actually buy something other than food, and stop by the old Critical Care stomping grounds. It’s all so familiar, like home…

Thunder Bay to Sault-Ste-Marie

Day 8: Thunder Bay to Sault-Ste-Marie

Rounding the top of Lake Superior, the road gets a bit more interesting

Up and down, side and side you go, over hills and through valleys, bending bays and coves, and the occasional cloud too

The community signs are pretty too: White River, home of Winnie the Pooh

and in the Northern Ontario wilderness, the advance signs to Schreiber help pass the time – no town motto, but the train and the trees look like a professional job

140Km ahead! Can’t wait!

16Km to go. Another train on the sign – they must sure love their trains

And there they are, the trains – double-decker container cars, everything from “COSCO” to “China Shipping” – though I must’ve missed the town itself. Oh well.

The passing lanes are there every 10Km or so

but, alas, never when you need it… Sign of the road raging driver in me starting to show (I’m sure everyone has one): it actually is starting to get annoying stuck behind traffic running at random speeds – not 120, or 115, but like 117 or something, and you have to either pass, or figure out their speed and reset your cruise control. I think cars should have external speedometers, in the rear window, so when there’s a car ahead you can see exactly how fast they’re going and choose to pass or adjust your cruise accordingly, without having to creep up, watch your distance and have to figure it out. (It would also make the police’s job way easier too – until people start to mess with the speedometer reading, anyway.)

But worst are people not using their cruise control – even if they’re running slow it wouldn’t be so bad if you could just match speed and relax and draft, but when they’re all over the speedometer and you have to dance all over the pedals to keep your distance… If it’s an old car and doesn’t have one, fine; but if it’s anything within the last 10 years, please break out your manual and learn how to use it!

Following this car for 10Km to the next passing lane was awful

You’ve got the exact same car as I do – I know you definitely have cruise control, and I know you can run at least at a steady 130Km/h no problem. What’s the hold-up? Geez.

A little while later I had to get down with the OPP – traffic stop

Random spot checks for alcohol. If you pass, you get this info card about their RAID “Report All Impaired Drivers” programme – ring them up if you spot a suspect drink driver

There’s a handy list on the back so you know what to look for:

10 signs of a suspected impaired driver
1. Driving unreasonably fast, slow or at an inconsistent speed
2. Drifting in and out of lanes
3. Tailgating and changing lanes frequently
4. Making exceptionally wide turns
5. Changing lanes or passing without sufficient clearance
6. Overshooting or stopping well before stop signs or stop lights
7. Disregarding signals and lights
8. Approaching signals or leaving intersections too quickly or slowly
9. Driving without headlights on, failing to lower high beams or leaving turn signals on
10. Driving with windows open in cold or inclement weather

Tonight, it’s the Holiday Inn. Horrors – only one nightstand, and only one lamp!

But, you do get your choice of pillows – which is more useful than redundant lamps, I say

and they’ve even colour-coded soaps: white for the face, green for the bath

which is good, because I can never keep them straight – and you know how I turned out. No wonder I look like this! Alas, too late for me now.

Looking out the window, I guess this is what they mean by “Northern Ontario”

And the development signs remind you where you are

“Prosperity for the North” – it’s one of those government programme position lines that, by extolling the virtues of what it’s going to bring, emphasises what is currently lacking, and only reinforces the isolated state of mind that leads to the programme in the first place. “The North”… I still can’t get over the pretense of it (especially remembering the other North)… it’s all relative, I guess.

The American border is a quick drive across the bridge, to Sault-Ste-Marie – Michigan, that is

Customs and Inland Revenue is an on-your-honour system around here – it’s a toll-free call, so you really have no excuse not to report in

Despite the border, I guess they’re really buddy-buddy and neighbourly about it. They share the same name, after all, so I guess it’s like popping next door and visiting family.

Winnipeg to Thunder Bay

Day 7: Winnipeg to Thunder Bay

Welcome to Ontario. This is where the drive is supposed to get long (hence the short segment yesterday): it’s the only province you can’t drive across within a single day!

In case you missed the first sign, there’s another beyond

And just beyond that, Kenora

And just like the provincial signs, every town in Ontario has two at the city limit. There’s the usual local boosterish sign, similar to the ones across BC, Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba so far (Kenora: sail-shaped, “The Famous Lake of the Woods”; not to be confused with the “infamous” Lake of the Woods. Kenora’s is of regular non-sinister fame). But beyond that, there’s also a uniform blue “KENORA POPULATION 16 500″ – standard issue from the provincial Ministry of Transport, in the old Series E face.

You start to feel the pull of the Centre of the Universe (ie Toronto) when you cross from Manitoba to Ontario. Not so much because you’re entering Ontario, but that you’re entering what’s called “Northern Ontario”. You’re actually further south than Saskatchewan and Manitoba in “Northern Ontario”, and there’s actually more people here than both, but to everyone the “Northern” tag is more than just geography: you are in the periphery, remote from the centre, far from civilisation and progress and development, of which Toronto, of course, is the definition.

Back in med school any placements out here would be called “rural”: even in a community of 16 500, that’s still country bumpkin to Torontoner eyes. Which meant you got full funding for transport, and free accommodations too. (Sure, most places were just hospital rooms set aside for visiting staff, but I lucked out at a full-on bed-and-breakfast – how I managed to still show up to the hospital on time every morning, and resisting the urge to linger over a daily full English breakfast, I don’t know.) You also got an allowance for taxis, since, by definition, “rural” places shouldn’t have anything as advanced as a public transport system.

So you can imagine my surprise when I passed this on the way

Whoa – public transit here in the boonies, impressive. Wait a minute – white tops, gray bottom, bike rack, waving union jack by the rear tire… that’s a BC Transit bus!

“Kamloops Transit System”, with the busonline.ca and 376 1216 telephone number. Kenora to Kamloops – now that’s one long bus ride! (I figure it must’ve been making its way west from the Nova Bus factory in Québec. I guess that’s how they break new buses in, on these cross-country delivery runs.)

The varying scenery and occasional construction signal break up the undivided highway (and the heightened state of danger of oncoming traffic at 120Km/h passing within 1m)

Just before bends and along straightaways you get a broken line that lets you pass – this is where that 2.5L 150hp 170ftlb would come in handy

but since I’ve hardly driven I’m still usually wait for a proper passing lane to get around – plus, drafting as long as you can saves energy too

Mum and Dad and I did the same drive 10 years ago on the way to Montréal, and it seemed more of an ordeal back then. Not because of the company (of course!), or because the Rabbit’s any better a car (we had an Acura EL, which was new and pretty good back then), but I think there were just way more RVs and campers and such back then that clogged the highway up. There was an article in the Globe just last week, “The End of the Road” – when a fill-up is $1 200 (from half that a decade ago), that’ll make a difference, for sure.

So in what feels like no time I’m pulling into Thunder Bay

first glancing look at the Sleeping Giant – it looks like a giant lying on his back, complete with legs, torso, Adam’s Apple and head (though not so much from this angle)

and checked in at the Best Western – half the price of the Delta Winnipeg, and not quite as fancy sheets and pillows, or even a lobby to speak of, but at least the shampoo’s now in bottles instead of tear packs, and there’s still the requisite overkill double nightstand lamps too

No restaurant at the hotel for supper, but across the parking lot there’s a fruit stand

and a ice cream store – not a sissy soft-serve creamery, here in Thunder Bay it’s a bad-ass biker ice cream stand

and of course, a Chinese-Canadian comfort food spot

This combo’s got everything – the Cantonese-style chow mein, fried wontons, and of course, chicken balls! Gotta love that standard diner “Chinese Zodiac” placemat too.

Regina to Winnipeg

Day 6: Regina to Winnipeg

Just a short drive today – 6h to Winnipeg. It’s only the 3rd time I’ve been; for some reason, the family was more likely to drive the 8h west to Calgary (over what was undivided highway back then, no less) than the 6h east to Winnipeg (which was mostly divided at least since the 80s) whenever we needed a big city fix (eg Asian groceries). I guess since we lived in Calgary for a while (my parents’ first home after immigrating) it still has some feeling of “home”; then again, Winnipeg has more Filipinos than anywhere else in Canada (including the first Filipino to be Member of Parliament) so it should’ve had at least a little draw, I’d've thought.

Even with a short drive, I’m not taking any chances: still going in double-barrelled with the Grande Veronas

Between the cupholders there’s a third circular space cut out: apparently it’s sized for one of those Red Bull energy drink cans! I’ll have to try it out sometime. JP swore by the stuff on a jet-lagged drive to Kelowna, so I thought about it on the way out, but I just couldn’t bring myself to. It’s like there’s a line you cross when you go from regular coffee, to something hard core like Red Bull. I don’t think I can do that. Partly out of fear of that post-taurine crash (is it from the taurine?), and I guess it’s the same way how people who’ve gotten through med school without coffee look at me, withdrawing after my 3rd cup of the day – at lunch. If I went on to Red Bull, that would be admitting coffee really is a gateway drug – and of course I won’t let that happen.

Along the way there’s more town gateway signs, some with taglines. Indian Head – “A Progressive Prairie Town”

Grenfell – after the Wheat Pool closures and re-management, the only grain elevator left in town is the one on the sign

Broadview – “A neat and blooming community”

Portage la Prairie – “Proud of Our Past… Building Our Future”. Bonus line – “Visit our island in the city!”

I think I lucked on the weather, and caught up to the tail end of a storm receding away from me – first, the rainbow ahead over the highway

and by the time I got into my hotel room, the edge had just passed the Downtown core, leaving the streets only slightly damp and the clouds filtering a brilliant Prairie sunset

Manitoba and Saskatchewan are about even in size (a million each), but whereas Saskatchewan splits its political, educational and business centres between two cities of 200 thousand, Winnipeg centralises it all in a metropolis of 650 thousand. It once was as big as Chicago as a transport hub for the western US and Canada; now, not so much. But it’s still got bright lights

and a healthy mix of new and old

and – of course – public transit amenities

and that essential part of the big city urban fabric: cops walking – yes, walking – a Downtown beat

The Delta in Winnipeg didn’t have the personalised welcome greeting card and in-room fireplace that the Banff one had, but it’s still pretty nice, and there’s two super-bright bedside lamps to light up the space. I think only in hotels do people ever have two bedside lamps – I can’t say for sure, since I’ve haven’t really been in too many other people’s bedrooms, but two is kind of overkill, no? Even if you’ve got a massive king-size (or bigger; what do you call bigger than king? Emperor maybe?) bed.

The room service menu looked good and reasonably-priced, but it was closed by the time I was ready for supper – shame, it’s the first time I ever thought of ordering. Across the street there’s a pasta place that looks much too clubby and pretentious to actually eat in, but for takeaway it’s delish: a fettucini (or is it linguini?) with a Thai peanut sauce. A very coarse peanut sauce (look at those peanuts! They’re pretty much whole) which made it more filling than the usual piddling sauces you get sometimes.

I really wish I remembered the names of the places I eat at, other than McDonald’s… There’s some yummy places along the way, and it’s nice to give credit where credit’s due.

Banff to Regina

Day 3: Banff to Regina

Leaving Banff, in no time you’re in the flatlands of Calgary – “Heart of the New West”.

I think it’s been billed the “New West” for at least 30 years now, ever since the oil and gas industry started cashing in during the oil embargo “energy crisis” of the 70s and hasn’t looked back since. Before that Westerners would always gripe about the country always revolved around the whims of Central Canada and their old money, but after Alberta started looking after itself – dumping the National Energy Programme, pumping up its own rainy-day fund ($17 billion at last count) and, most un-Canadian of all, eliminating sales tax! – it’s got a swagger of its own. Goodbye ding-dong of pastoral cowbells, hello bling-bling of sweet sweet crude.

It’s the last big city I’ll see before making it East, but from the free-flowing traffic of the T-Can on 16 Av, you wouldn’t think it. Wide lanes (at least a 50% bonus compared to Vancouver’s main streets), and the one time I had to cut lanes to make a turn, no pissed-off f***ing-tourist-! reaming; just a laid-back, wave in – hey, I thought this was the big bad sprawling monstro-city that is Calgary! Too nice.

Stopped by a McDonald’s for a takeaway road-friendly lunch – nuggets make munching at 120Km/h clean and easy. I haven’t been to a McDonald’s in years; back in undergrad I’d go at least once a week, when the residence cafeteria closed for the weekends, but ever since then it’d only be an emergency option. Looks like they’ve gone upscale while I’ve been away: fieldstone walls, fireplace, ceramic flooring – hey, I thought this was the good old quick and dirty feedbag, 60 billion served McD’s! Fancy. And the new coffee: not bad at all. Definitely not the comforting darkness of Starbucks bold, but switch it for my usual Horton’s double-double and I probably wouldn’t notice. It’s caffeine, and that’s what matters.

The cup design, however, isn’t quite so travel-friendly – a Starbucks-style solid rim with sipping port would’ve been better than this Hortons-style leaky flip-top. At least they throw in a forest-sized napkin wad with the nuggets when you order takeaway.

And thence to Saskatchewan, Naturally. Though you’d be forgiven if the landscape somehow reminded you of something somewhat more artificial – hmm, subliminal Saskatchewan advertising on Windows XP wallpaper? Wonder how much Microsoft charged for that!

A convoy of pedestrians stuck to the shoulder as cars buzzed past. I think it was a group marching to Ottawa in memory of the disappeared, murdered prostitutes and others suffering in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. I honked in support – only the third time I’ve ever used the horn (the others being the first time I got the car, and once at the dealership to get into the service bay) – they waved back, and one of them took a picture. It was about 30C outside under the Prairie sun when I drove by; hopefully they’re close to their next stop.

Hopefully this skateboarder is close to home too – this was about 15Km out of Maple Creek and another 30Km to the next town. And he doesn’t have a support van to back him up. Madness!

Swift Current and Moose Jaw throw in their city tag lines on their welcome signs – “where life makes sense” and “The Friendly City”, respectively

Regina, however, lets the skyline speak for itself

I love how it just sprouts out from the plain, middle of nowhere like that. Other places usually have a “wow” moment, where you crest a hill, turn a bend or cross a bridge, and the city skyline catches you all at once – eg descending into Vancouver from South Granville St, or facing onto Manhattan from the Brooklyn Bridge. But Regina kind of creeps up on you, as you creep up on it from the highway.

It’s no less of a surprise – one second you’re on undeveloped prairie, the next you’re in the middle of standard big-box suburban sprawl (yep, that’s how you know it’s Regina – keeping 70s-style wasteful car-centric sprawl alive into the 21st century), wondering what these people are thinking letting such crappy city planning continue unchecked.

Well, I do anyway. That’s how I know I’m home.