It’s Amazing What We Get Used To ! (08-30-13)

But first- you know when you’re on vacation, and on your second to last day being away from home, you start packing up some of your stuff, preparing to leave, and all of a sudden, you just want to be home?  Well, that’s what happened to Paul and I.  Once we knew we were leaving Canada, we were suddenly in a rush to get back to the states.  So, off we ran, putting lots of miles behind us every day, and we ended up arriving  in the states 3 days ahead of schedule. Crossing the border was no issue, we were asked a few questions, and then he told us to have a nice day.  Gee, and I had made sure we had eaten all the meat and produce we had, just in case! 

Anyway, this post is more about the differences I noticed being in Canada. My thought started when I was surprised at how happy I was when we arrived in St. John’s, Newfoundland a few weeks ago, and it got me thinking. As we’ve toured each province of Atlantic Canada, our destinations have gotten more and more remote. In Labrador, the most remote, we ran out of paved road after just an hour of driving (I am sure other areas have paved roads?).  New Brunswick, our first province, didn’t seem too different than being in the states, with Costco, Kohls, and Tim Horton’s (think Dunkin  Donuts) available, and restaurants on every corner.  There were a few things that did change right away though.

We had no data plan for our cell phones and ipad in Canada.  We pretty much got used to that fact, although I will admit that we did pick restaurants based on whether they have Wi-Fi, and we forgave each other for sitting at the table with phone in hand.  On the flip side, its strange, I think, that we are so used to having the internet at our finger tips that we missed not being instantly connected, whenever and wherever we want.   2 years ago, neither of us even had a smart phone, never mind an ipad! Now I would have to admit that if my ipad broke, it would be replaced within days, not weeks.  I, personally, had to get used to the fact that my phone was not the one receiving phone calls.  We only added Canada to Paul’s phone plan, so all of our calls went to him.

One of the things I loved about our time in Canada, is that the cream they use for their coffee is real cream, not “fat free” non dairy creamer, like I am used to.  Every morning, my coffee tasted like it was from a first class coffee shop.



Instead of google, we used paper maps and tour books to do our research and planning.(this made planning much less fun for me).  We definitely got used to making sure the tour books and maps  went with us in the truck every day! When writing my blog, my memory is so bad that if I can’t remember a fact correctly, I usually just “google” it to make sure I have it right. In Canada, I had to cheat- I typed notes on my iphone- so I’d have the details for later.




There is one exception to the map thing.  I spent $1 and bought a map app for the ipad.  It’s the best dollar I have spent in a long time. Once the maps are downloaded, they are accessible offline, so I can use it as a second GPS as we travel. It’s been invaluable.

We adjusted fairly well to the metric thing.  We learned to  do the mental math fast enough and accurate enough to wing it when dealing with kilometers, meters and kilograms.  Well, maybe not kilograms. The stores list certain items by the pound, and certain items by the kilogram or gram, so we were always confused.   Mostly if we were buying something its because we needed it, so we just closed our eyes and put it in the basket.  We completely looked the other way when buying diesel.  It was $5 a gallon when we got here and it only went up.


There are certain numbers we made a special point to learn in metric. 

The height, and width of our vehicles are some of those numbers. Nothing like scrambling at the last second when a sign on the highway states “all vehicles over 2.6 meters wide MUST exit”.

After New Brunswick we moved to PEI, where the restaurants and grocery stores are few and far between, and large chain stores are non-existent. No Wal-Marts here!  We were in vacation mode on PEI so we really enjoyed not being inundated with the usual suspects for stores and restaurants.

In Nova Scotia, Halifax is sort of an oasis of urbanism.  The city has the only two Costcos in Nova Scotia, and although there isn’t a bunch of chain restaurants, there is no shortage of great places to eat.  

The rest of our stay in Nova Scotia was far more like PEI- very few restaurants and the grocery stores are mostly Co-ops-grocery stores that are owned by the townspeople.

We also had to get used to seeing street signs in Gaelic, as well as English, although, it really didn’t take much getting used to.

Before we left for Newfoundland we took advantage of the semi large town of Sydney, Nova Scotia to stock the refrigerator and freezer.  Having experienced shopping on the mainland, we had no idea what to expect on the island, and we arrived with literally enough food to last the entire 3 weeks, if need be.  The produce on Newfoundland is not what we are used to at all and we bought very little of it.  We are used to freshness and variety and I think the stores on the island struggle to provide that. 
I am not saying one way of being is better than another, many of the things we got used to had nothing to do with the fact that we are in another country.    It just dawned on me when we arrived in St. John’s and I was smiling, that I had missed some of the things I am used to having.

I was happy to see Best Buy, even though I didn’t need to buy anything.  I was thrilled to see Costco, although the lines were so long we left without buying anything.  The second time we tried to go, on Wednesday, it was closed!! Apparently there’s a local holiday that we knew nothing about!

Television is something else we’ve gotten used to.  Well, Paul is used to having at least a few channels to surf, so he has gotten use to reading more books for the last month or so, and I really don’t care much about TV, so I have been enjoying the quiet.  Most places in Canada, we had NO television channels at all.







As Paul and I travel, we go through urban as well as rural, and downright remote, places.  We shy away from the urban pretty regularly.  Neither one of us is a city dweller, and a little goes a long way with us (especially driving a dually!)  I, for one though, have discovered I would feel too cut off, living too far from a metropolitan area.  As much as I bemoan the fact that we can predict what restaurants and stores we’ll see when we arrive in a new city (Best Buy, TJ Maxx/Ross, Applebees,  Target, Kohls, Olive Garden etc) I guess I’ve gotten used to those places being there when I want them!


So, now we are back in Michigan, visiting with friends, shopping in our storage unit, and going to doctor appointments, for the next week. 

parlez-vous français? (08-23-13)

Quebec is the first (and hopefully last) area of Canada that we have visited that only posts their signs in French. Talk about a crash course in deciphering a foreign language!

In this modern age of gadgetry, Paul and I have both downloaded translator apps on our phones.  Driving down the road requires paying close attention.  We are definitely picking up some French words, although with this particular sign, we just guessed that trucks aren’t allowed to use their engine brakes.

Of course, some signs are easier to figure out than others.

  I have learned to ask someone if they speak English, before I assume they do.  They seem to like it better if I don’t assume. I have also learned to say “I don’t speak French” in French. 

We could only spare one day for the Quebec area, but we figured it was better than nothing.  We parked the rig in an RV park across the river and took the ferry over to Old Town Quebec.  This town is impressive even before you get to it!

Once we arrived, we immediately felt as if we were strolling down the streets of some country in Europe (not that we’ve been there). 

The ambiance was beautiful and relaxing with all the old churches and buildings, and cobblestone streets. 

There were restaurants galore, and around every corner, there was some type of street performance. Everything from flame eaters to opera singers, with a few guitarists and saxophonists thrown in for good measure.

The streets of Old Town are very steep- a great cardio workout if you walk straight up, but fortunately there are many shops along the way, giving you a great excuse to catch your breath.  Of course- there is another option….

How many towns can boast that they have their very own funicular?  Well, Quebec can. In fact , they’ve had one since 1879.  Basically it’s an outdoor elevator. We didn’t use it, but it sure is cool!  You can see the car moving up the track in this picture.

Later in the day we walked right past the entrance to the funicular. 

Strolling along the promenade, we came upon these strange glass enclosures, and finally found out that they are “windows” into an underground national park- the archeological site of the old governor’s mansion.  With our national park pass, entrance was free, so we went down the stairs to check it out.  

Paul enjoys trying on new clothes

Our conversation soon turned to the annual national park pass that we bought, and how, because we had it, we explored more places.  For instance, if we had had to pay, we probably wouldn’t have bothered exploring this archeological dig. The “museum” was ok, worth the price of admission, I guess!

We stopped for a light lunch at one of the many sidewalk cafes, which of course boasted live music.  This guy sang songs in both French and English. Our idea was to have a light lunch- Paul had a salad and I had an apple and cheese crepe- so that we could have dinner in town as well, but we just can’t eat that much anymore so lunch was our only meal there.

We worked off lunch by climbing to the top of the city by way of the Governors Promenade, a boardwalk with stairs to the top of the hill.

Sitting on top of that hill is the Citadel.  We walked up the walls of the fort, and went inside.  Once there we found out that it is still very much an active fort, and entrance inside is only allowed by way of a guided tour. We decided to pass, and kept strolling along.

Soon we could hear live band music, and we both turned and headed toward the sound.  Having both been in band in high school, we love this type of music.  The military band was performing in one of the town squares, so we plopped ourselves down to listen.

The town has several old churches that are open to the public, and some really beautiful murals.

The more we looked at the murals, the more intricate they seemed.

We ended our day sipping on an adult beverage at the Terrace Bar of the Fairmont Le Chateau Frontenac hotel.  Built in the late 19th century, this hotel has a commanding view of the city and nearby St. Lawrence River.

 

Although we only had the one day, it was one of the most relaxing, fun days we’ve had in a while.  This city is gorgeous, and because we left the truck on the other side, and were strictly on foot, we had no worries and could enjoy the city.

Hopewell Rocks, New Brunswick (08-22-13)

Although we stopped at the Bay of Fundy on our first swing through New Brunswick, we wanted to make a second stop so we could see Hopewell Rocks.  This place has one of the highest tides in the world, up to 44 feet.  The idea is to go check it out both at high tide,and at low tide.  When you buy a ticket, it’s good for two days. 
But, first you have to get there, and that’s where we ran into trouble. We made reservations at the campground closest to the rocks, and got within a few miles of it when we came upon an accident scene. It was a pretty serious accident, and the road was completely closed.  Someone was standing at the turnoff giving directions to people on where they needed to go for the detour.  When we reached the front of the line, Paul asked if he was tired of saying the same thing over and over, and the guy says “well, I’ll be telling you something different, because you’ll never get this rig down the road everyone else is using.”  He proceeded to tell us which roads to take to detour. 

We wrote it down and went on our way.  About 15 minutes later, we passed a sign that said 3.5 meter height limit. Uh oh.

   We could see the low bridge, so we pulled the rig over, got out the tape measure and started to walk down the road to measure it.  We weren’t that close to it because we stopped next to a convenient place to turn around.  A neighbor came out and told us we’d never make it, and directed us around and over the mountain. 




We turned around and once again went on our way, stopping once or twice to double check where we were.  One time when we were stopped, a car passed us and pulled over in front of us, and the driver came over to talk to us and make sure we knew where we had to go.  Wow.  Extremely nice people around here.

It was at least an hour to an hour and a half delay getting to the campground, but at least we made it ok.


The campground posts the high/low tide times which made it easier to figure out our plan of attack. Because of the tide differential and the height of the rock cliffs at the water’s edge, about two hours before low tide, you are allowed to go down the stairs and walk “on the ocean floor”.  Two hours after low tide, every one has to leave, before the water arrives.  The tide comes in at a rate of 7-9 feet per hour, which is a seriously fast rate.  Our timing was perfect for low tide, so we headed over to walk among the rocks. For picture comparison purposes I have put similar shots next to each other- one showing at low tide, and one at close to high tide, although we didn’t see the high tide until the following day.



 
  Looking from up above you don’t get a sense of the size of these rocks, but they are enormous! In retrospect, it probably would have been more dramatic to see it at high tide, then go at low tide and head down the stairs.  Oh well, it was still pretty cool.
















Here’s Paul standing between two of the rocks:






 

The day after the low tide visit is the day we went to see the high tide. To get the best viewpoint, we decided to take the guided Kayak tour. That way we’d get pictures of the rocks from the same angle as the “floor” shots.  It wasn’t meant to be.  The wind started picking up and a little while before we were supposed to leave, the guides were letting people know that they’d be getting very wet, and probably wouldn’t be able to take pictures because the water was getting too rough.

Ah well, I decided I wasn’t interested in that, so we decided not to go.  It turns out they canceled that trip anyway.  We went to the edge and watched the people on the trip before ours.  They were struggling a fair amount, and waves were breaking over the kayaks.  Watching them ride the waves made me feel less of a wimp.






Hopewell Rocks was one of our last major stops in Canada. From this point on, we are making a beeline for Michigan, with maybe a day or so of exploring along the way, but not much.

We took a picture for another couple and they insisted on taking our picture for us.

Tracking down the family (08-19-13)

Adding Newfoundland into our itinerary meant taking something out of our itinerary, but I wasn’t willing to give up my search for family.  I have been researching my genealogy on and off for the last year or so and I had really been looking forward to spending time in Cape Breton.  This post is more for my benefit than anyone else’s, so I apologize in advance for the boringness of it.  Feel free to click to another page.
So, I became interested in my family history while in Salt Lake City, sitting around while Paul researched his family.  At the LDS (Latter Day Saints) research center, I typed  my paternal grandmother’s name into the computer, just for fun.  I was totally surprised to find out that she had a step-father. No one had ever mentioned that in the family.  Ever.  Her dad died when he was young, and her mom remarried.  That sparked my interest, and something my mom had always said to me added to the flame.  She said my heritage is “Scottish, Irish, English, and French (Canadian).  But I didn’t know exactly how each branch got back to it’s original country.  So I started looking. Actually, she first said I was “American” and even went to school to argue with teachers when they said that wasn’t an acceptable answer.

Sacred Heart Church, Johnstown

I was immediately surprised to learn that not only did my maternal grandmother come from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, but the families of my paternal grandmother and grandfather also came from there, in an area about 60 miles away.

   

Sacred Heart cemetery

I loosely decided to trace each branch back to its country of origin.  After doing a lot of work online, actually being in the towns where these people lived their lives was pretty exciting to me.

Geographically we arrived at Johnstown first.  Johnstown, Nova Scotia is named for the Johnston family, who settled in the area after arriving from Scotland, and my maternal grandmother's maiden name  was Johnston.

Isabella Johnston's grave

We found the old church and cemetery where my great grandmother is buried ,and I approached everyone I met to get more information.  Unfortunately, Johnstown isn’t really a town anymore.

  Whatever stores and buildings were originally here are no longer in existence, and it mostly consists of cottages and small homes. The church parish center had an old map on the wall of what the town used to look like.

Colleen Johnston

   Luckily one of my aunts told me where to look for family cottages, and we found Hay Cove, and Colleen Johnston and her family.

Hay Cove

  We spent the afternoon comparing notes on family history.  This land has been in the Johnston family for 250 years.










This is an aerial photo of the Hay Cove area in Johnstown.

Arichat

   Our next stop was on Isle Madame.  This was moving from my mom’s family to my dad’s. We started in the town of Arichat, which I continually run across in my research.  I was very happy to just see this very small village, and drive around. 

At least two branches of my family are from this island and they happen to be the two most common surnames in the area- Samson and Boudreau. It’s tough to find fellow Boudreau family members in a town called Boudreauville! 









Everyone thinks you are a cousin! About a month or so ago, my research collided with the research of a fellow Samson family member.  It turns out, he has all the documentation for the Samson name going back to 16th century France.  With one click of the mouse, my work with that branch of the family was done.  He had also helped me find Boudreau family members. Thanks, Charles Samson!!

Samson family cottages in Samson Cove

Paul and I spent an entire day on Isle Madame- an island settled mostly by Acadians (I didn’t even know I was Acadian till I started this research). Petit de Grat is a smaller island in the area. Two, possibly three, of my great grandparents are from Petit de Grat. 

Everyone we spoke to tried to help, but we were there on a weekend, which made things trickier. For one thing, the library was closed, but Ann Marie, the woman working at the visitor center, made numerous phone calls to potential family members for me, and gave me several connections to follow up on.  We were towing the trailer at this point, and several people told us where we could drop it for the day so we could drive around without it. 



At one point I stopped to take a picture of a beautiful harbor and a man approached, asking if he could help.  I was a little confused, but he said “well, you have a huge truck, and this is a small community.  I’ve seen you at least 4 times today”.  Turns out he’s a Samson, and probably a relative of some type.

Notre Dame De L'Assomption, Arichat

Notre Dame De L'Assomption

We visited the church where my family has worshiped for generations, and took pictures of the gravestones in the old cemetery, so I can research them later, but finally we had to move on.

St. Francis De Sales, Lower River

The next stop was the Port Hawkesbury/Lower River area of Cape Breton, only about 40 miles away.  Here is my biggest puzzle.  I know that my maternal grandmother is Scottish, my maternal grandfather is Irish, and my paternal grandmother is French.  That means my paternal grandfather, Raymond King, must be English.  But I have had a very difficult time finding any records.  The French used to keep one copy of a record at the church, and send at least one to France, so there were multiple copies.  That’s great because so many churches and other buildings burned down that many records were just lost. Apparently the English didn’t follow that habit, and records are hard to come by.






Paul and I hit the ground running in the Port Hawkesbury area.  We visited several small museums, asked about churches, graveyards and other small museums, and in general tried to follow every lead we got.  Once again we were thwarted because the local library was closed for its yearly maintenance.  At least 4 people told me I need to contact Lester Morgan- his family is related to the King family and he has done a ton of research.  One person gave me his number.  I called him.  He didn’t return the call.  Another person gave me his email address.  A third person said that Lester is in the states on vacation so he won’t get any messages.  Well darn. We had to put Lester on hold while we visited more museums, churches and graveyards.  We had no luck finding any new information, which was pretty discouraging.  Then I got a huge surprise. The day after we left, Lester arrived back home and responded to my email. He said he has lots of information on the King family, and boy, does he.  It turns out he and I are related.  My great grandfather, who moved to Boston, had a brother who stayed in Nova Scotia.  Lester and I have been emailing back and forth but I’ve had such poor Wi-Fi, I’ll really be better off waiting until we get back to the states.
All through this 3 day marathon, I have been amazed at how willing people have been to help.  One girl who was working at a museum made a dozen phone calls for me.  She found a potential family member who said “send them on over”. 

She even printed out a map for us so we wouldn't get lost,and we were able to sit down and talk to Noni Hureau ( her great grandfather was my great grandmother’s brother) for an hour, gathering information.  Turns out Noni lived in the Boston area for many years before returning to Cape Breton to retire.  I now have several leads to follow on that branch of the family, plus, I have the phone numbers of several people in the area, if I need more help in the future.




The last three days have been quite the marathon, and I am mentally drained. On the plus side, I learned a lot, and got to see the places where my  family has lived for over 200 years.