The Maritimes in a day

I slept from Halifax until Truro, so I don't know what that looked like. Deal with it.

I am pleased to announce that the first official guest character of Thirty Days across America made an appearance in Amherst, Nova Scotia.

Welcome to the show Mike Jakeman. He worked at an Irving convenience store for nine years, went to college in Halifax to study accounting, finished a three-month stint looking for work in Vancouver. He now lives in Moncton and is paying off student loans before completing his four-year program at a Halifax-area university. Either St. Mary's or Mount St. Vincent.

Go for St. Mary's, dude. Go Huskies.

Anyways, he was one of those typical Canadians. Thanks for appearing on the show on the blog in this experiment, Mike.

Here's something notable about New Brunswick. Saint John is one of the prettiest ugly towns in Canada. And hey, if you squint really hard and imagine you are in Vancouver on a sunny day, it's downright beautiful in Saint John. Yeah, we're talking Hamilton ugly.

Ocean #1

Proof: Atlantic Ocean - Bayswater, N.S.

The friendliest people since the people next door

On the way to Lunenburg, we hopped out of the car to catch a glimpse of a typical Nova Scotian scene. Not surprisingly, boats are involved. And water.

As we strolled around, a dog named Ruby ran down the hill behind us. She was apparently delighted to see strangers. Her owner followed when the dog ignored her calls. What followed was proof that at least some Nova Scotians are as friendly as the stories (I've heard stories, anyway) suggest.

The woman's name was Joyce. She was 84 years old. And five minutes after she struck up a conversation with my aunt about how she built her house, Joyce invited us inside. And we didn't lock the car doors as we walked up her steps. If you are from a city in Ontario, you'll likely understand the habitual anxiety that tends to set in after unlocked anything. So that was Joyce.

Halifax

The trip couldn't have started on a smoother note. Sloan (not pictured) were on my flight to Halifax, where they were opening for Lenny Kravitz the next night at the Metro Centre.

Off the plane and on to a bus, I met my uncle a few blocks from his place. The palace on Fairfield Road, the home of my Uncle Doug and Aunt Cynthia, was an incredible first stop:


I hadn't been to Halifax in 15 years, so I don't know if much has changed. Lots of ships, a few bridges, wharfs, and assorted piers, docks, and quays (my landlocked Ontarian instincts suggest that those are all synonyms, but they might serve distinct purposes). Heck of a town.