To Hull and Back.

London, Ontario - I won't even start with the over- weight, middle- aged woman milling about the produce section of the grocery store in a t-shirt advertising a local 'gentlemen's establishment' last night. And no, she wouldn't have been confused with someone who had just aged somewhat less than gracefully. Cringe. No, tempting as that might be, I instead just returned from a weekend in the Gatineaus. And they were real purty. So was the company.

SCS and I left on Friday following a morning of classes and she and I edited some work until we reached Kingston, weaving in-and-out of both traffic and subordinate clauses. Then, of course, we needed to find a (free) Internet connection to send the report to the requisite people. People who do not necessarily read their email.

Our first stop, a somewhat sleazy-looking motel, only briefly gave us a connection (after all, we weren't surfing for porn), so it was on to Queen's University. An hour and a very helpful employee at the university who happened to be headed to Tanzania (from which SCS has just returned) later, and we were free to dine at the Sleepless Goat. Yes, the Sleepless Goat (who knew?). I didn't dare ask about the origin of the name. After this, it would be two days where the only Internet connection we would have would be like that found in the photo above. No email. No blogging. No stress (well, we'll get to that later).

On to the Gatineau hills and Les Trois Érables Bed and Breakfast in gorgeous Wakefield, QC. What a gorgeous spot. And a 110-year-old Victorian home. The decor was nice despite a couple of eyebrow-raising knick knacks interspersed. Service and the breakfast were tremendous. And a couple of great nights of sleep were had by all.

The view from the room defied beauty, conventional or otherwise. Overlooking the lake and the hills, trees shed their verdant skin for tones more suited to fall. Ablaze. A steam train also brings in tourists to take postcard pictures. And a covered bridge spans the water. No word if the waters are troubled.

Fall. How I love the fall. And in this case, even the tripping. Really, Wakefield is a quaint little spot. And I mean that in a good way. So relaxed.

Québec, home to Ontario's underage drinkers and apparently, also home to the 'stubby' as a wine bottle as opposed to the traditional beer (Bob and Doug, anyone?) And a screw-top, too. God love the screw-top swill, er, wine. Not quite a Tetra Pak, but still. I likely should have known when it came in a non-descript paper bag, crumpled like my brain after drinking it. Alcohol in the depanneur -- got to love it. I guess.

The wedding was on Saturday at one of the local churches and one of the highlights (besides, of course, the nuptials -- duh) was one of the members of the wedding party getting up and singing Josh Grobin's You Raise Me Up. Better than Josh Grobin. Tears, flowing all around. And then, the awkward pause and silence at the end because, being in a church, nobody knew how to react. Then the eruption. Would have thought we were in a Baptist baptist church for a moment, except that this was, well, Wakefield. Hallelujahs all around. It was beautiful. The bride and groom, too, said their vows in the other's native language, which was a nice touch. The reception was at Wakefield's old mill, which also provided a spectacular backdrop. A recurring theme, yes. A waterfall. More fashionable leaves.

And SCS was glad to finally have some chocolate.

More Hullabalooza.

Wake- field, Québec - A number of great signs pointed us, cajoled us, pleaded us and directed us throughout the weekend. This one, in Wakefield, made me chuckle. I also want to "Attain Joyful Fluency". As opposed to the painful bilingualism I grace now. "Master tense situations"? Doesn't matter what language, that's a great skill to have in your back pocket ("I'm a teepee, I'm a wigwam"; "No, you're too tense"). Another sign I found to be quintessentially Quebecois advertised condominiums. In French, it pointed out that Gatineau was only 25 kilometres away. And in English, it blared out that Ottawa was only 30 away. Well, it is always said that you need to "Know your audience". But it was still funny to me. The sign of the weekend, however, must go to the store along the road (alas, no photo) that sells "Second-hand candles". I'm not kidding. Really, are they in bulk? Are they still liquid, or still smoking (somebody might be)? Are the colours all molded together in one gelatinous blob? Are wicks included? Tough to wax poetic about that one. By the way, a quick Google search for "second-hand candles" results in 1,280,000 hits. And strangely, for the Internet, no porn. Or ear candling.

During a peaceful walk gone amok on Saturday, SCS lost her wallet after the reception, but prior to the evening party. A wee panic ensued. Luckily enough, a retired police officer found it and tried to track her down, visiting local restaurants and businesses. He even called her parents. I'm guessing he worded it carefully, rather than say "Hey, I found your daughter's wallet along the railroad tracks beside the lake...but there's no sign of her". Not good. They told him that we had rented a car from Enterprise, which I had happened to park nose first (showing the logo sticker on the back) after heading to the mill in my new role as Sherlock Holmes. As he came to the door at the Bed and Breakfast, his phone rang. SCS had gone into the Pot au Feu restaurant (free plug because of your kindness) and one of the staff passed her a piece of paper. On it, her name and a phone number to call. I'd have been jealous and all, but you know. I am sure it is strange to see your name in a random and unexpected situation like that.

Anyway, it all worked out and we headed to the 'Bal en Blanc', where we were to wear all white, hence the name. A little skeptical at first, but it really worked out. Even after Labour Day. Neat. Even the decor was white, with sheets hung. And I can no longer say I've never had a man sporting a fluffy, black boa jump into my arms. No, I'm not going to post the picture. All in all, a good time, for sure.

Sunday, we had a little more time for relaxing and went hiking in the hills and over to the covered bridge. It was an absolutely spectacular morning, with blue sky and fluffy clouds. Air crisp like a potato chip. It just smelled and tasted good. Tickling the skin and tempting the nose. Along the way, we saw a flash of red fly by and saw a woodpecker take up in one of the trees nearby (above right). I hadn't seen such a big pecker before. Oh, let's re-write that one. Quite a weekend for birds as I had also seen my first wild bald eagle on Friday, flying gracefully over the Thames river.

All in all, it was a really good trip. I love hitting the road and seeing new things and new places. It didn't hurt that we were in a very pretty spot in which I could actually picture myself living if only there were appropriate work there. Oh, that work thing. Details, details. On the way back, we also hit the Hershey's factory in Smith's Falls (what, no damaged peanut butter cups in bulk? Shame, shame!) and Ikea in Burlington. We've kind of been jonesing for Ikea for a while and really, it's tough to come out of there without having bought something. Fall-smelly candles and tea light holder (oooh, that just reeks of manliness, doesn't it!) and some brushed steel tins (that's better) for me. The great book case dilemma for SCS, though she also couldn't resist coming away with some goods. Whoever says money doesn't help obviously doesn't have any. It makes the world go around, unfortunately.

Sunday night was spent in Toronto. A shout-out is in order to Connor, who hosted us (his parents might temper that a bit). He is, afterall, in the vernacular of SCS, "Fresh Human". And an adorable one at that.

1,470 total kms. Yawn.

The ever-so-imporant road trip music: Cat Power: The Greatest;Swing Kids OST; Great Lake Swimmers: Great Lake Swimmers; Sarah Harmer: You are Here; Band of Horses: Everything All the Time; Coldplay: Live 2003; Hayden: Elk Lake Serenade; Midlake: The Trials of Van Occupanther; Emily Haines: Kives Don't Have Your Back; Acid House Kings: Sing Along with the Acid House Kings; Voxtrot: Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives; Sarah McLachlan: Fumbling Toward Ecstacy; Sarah Harmer: I am a Mountain; Kathleen Edwards: Failer; REM: Green; The Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs; REM: Out of Time.

Outtakes.

London, Ontario - I have had a few days back in Ontar-I-O to regain my bearings, as well as to hibernate a bit (though I watched a couple of suns set, and a few stars dance, while learning about blogging in Malaysia). Just in time to return from vacation and face the hordes of weary, post-labour day souls turning up their collars to fend off the small teeth of fall. Self-sharpening like Ginsu in preparation of the w----- to come. I love this time of year. I can smell it, touch it, taste it. And best of all, I can feel it to my core.

A few additional photos from the trip south this past week.

Huntsville, Alabama: Beauty is all around, waiting to be found. A piece of graffiti I found written on a white board that had been affixed to the red brick wall. Just seemed poignant as I poked around alleys in an otherwise empty downtown Huntsville looking at the architecture and details on the buildings.Near the Kentucky/Tennessee border: Did I mention that it rained? Hard? I believe that this storm 'benefited' from the effects of Tropical Storm Ernesto threatening south and east of here. It was wet. Very wet. And this was when the visibility was still relatively good.Tennessee: From the category of signs gone wrong (or "Signs gone Wild!"?), we first have the "Polk Motel", which -- yes -- is named for one of the country's former Presidents. I'd still think they could have named something a bit more prestigious for him. At least a Suites. An Inn, perhaps? With a motel, there are just too many jokes (or pokes!) to be made.Alabama: That said, however, taking the cake are the Alabamans? Alabamians? (Yes, just looked it up; that's the correct offering for you trivialists.). Really, this one writes itself. And it's in the south, no less. Was there no thought put into that one? I can imagine the bank officer sitting there reading the business plan, snickering. With the number of strip joints I had seen advertised along my route, I would have been pretty disappointed to have pulled in here thinking it was somethign else and instead found that it was a 'Restaurant supply' store. At least it wasn't a carpeting depot.
Huntsville, Alabama: The store fronts (which were actually mostly lawyer offices) were really beautifully done with leaded glass and ornate designs. Huntsville, Alabama.
Huntsville, Alabama: A pigeon decided he wanted to be a part of this one. The buildings were so neat that I found myself looking skyward during most of my visit. At least there was nobody around to relieve me of my wallet when I was there because I was doing more craning than, well, a crane. Huntsville, Alabama: Which direction next? A few weeks until the next road trip, this one, however, only inter-province. Will be joined by a co-pilote this time, though!