Parle vous..... English?

We spent last weekend in Ottawa, capital of Canada. Although it’s in the province of Ontario, technically an English language province, it’s just across the Ottawa River from Quebec and thus a very large percentage of the people speak French…. some of them speaking only French. Now although I know a smattering of Spanish and although they are both Romance languages, I’m afraid that they are different enough that it was of very limited use when ordering scrambled eggs for breakfast or asking directions. But, with a sufficient amount of pointing, gesturing and an occasional word that elicited a modicum of recognition from our gracious hosts, we managed to sight see our way around the city and obtain sufficient nutritional sustenance to keep us alive long enough to get back across the border into the land of Burger Kings, McDonald’s and Tubs ‘O Chicken on every other street corner.

One of the main places we visited was the capital building on Parliament Hill. An interesting thing about the building is that on the inside, it looks very much like an English or French medieval cathedral. High arches, massive stone columns and stained glass windows evoke the feeling of any average 1000 year old church across the Atlantic. It occurred to me while touring it that in today’s America, if it were our capital building, the ACLU would have a lawsuit against the Feds demanding that it be demolished and a plain square box put up in its place. Certainly can’t have anything that smacks of religion in a governmental building now can we?

Another place, found entirely by accident but which wound up being a highlight of the visit was a rock sculpture garden along the banks of the Ottawa river. At certain times of the year when the water level is low, a very talented but also humble, almost shy man creates what can only be described as an incredibly intriguing array of sculptures out of ordinary rocks found in the riverbed. People, animals, and assemblages of various types that somehow seem to defy gravity, the wind and the pokes and prods of little kids are scattered around a one acre area of what would normally be the riverbed. They are all held together almost exclusively by gravity, wedged rocks and an incredible sense of balance. The truly amazing thing is that just from the rocks laying around in the immediate area he can see the perfect ones necessary to make a man, woman, child, sea lion or just about anything else he wishes to create.

We returned to the U.S. at a border crossing near a very small town in up state New York where I think they were a little surprised to see us come through. As the Immigration officer himself said, “We don’t get too many people from Texas through here”. I think it was for that reason that he gave us a questioning more comprehensive than any we’ve ever received when returning from Canada and then he asked to see into the trunk of the car. I watched him look around in the trunk and run his hand through my suitcase without actually looking into it. Seemingly satisfied that we weren’t terrorists, smuggling anything nasty into the country or abetting the entry of any illegals, he allowed us to go on our way. As we drove away, I couldn't help laughing at the fact that the section of the suitcase that he poked his hand into - again, without looking - was where my underwear was. Now the question is, was it the section where the clean ones were.... or the "used" ones. Snicker.... only I know. Pictures in the gallery.