We knew that Canada was a bilingual country; we didn’t really didn’t count on it actually being unilingual in two separate places. Or rather we did know about Quebec’s French-ness and occasional dalliances with ideas for independence (not being totally uneducated in the plight of the colonies), we just didn’t think about it very hard. Ottawa has the last vestiges of anglophonia before they drop the bilingual road signs and pretences of civilisation and it all goes full-blown fromage, mersy bunkup mon sewer.
Prior to dawdling around Quebec and Montreal cities proper, we ran off to the hills via several places I cannot pronounce, to stay on Lake Sacacomie for a couple of nights, at the hotel of the same name. They do lay on several activities on and around the lake and mountains, but frankly we were done for outdoorsy things for a while, so were content to languish in the spa and its various baths. It is a struggle being me, but one drags oneself through, one day at a time (and we had been bitten to shit already, so were equally happy to hide underwater from our buzzing buddies).
Pictured: Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Since Gregor the Mulifaceted had fed us handsomely prior to leaving Northern Edge, we didn’t feel the need to eat en route to Sacacomie (apart from ice-cream and Timbits). Thing is, it was still a long day’s drive and we didn’t get there until past ten. Upon arriving in the middle of nowhere, Chan announced that she was hungry. On further discovery that this not being the kind of place that caters outside meals times, I had to get creative with my hunter-gathering. Chan looked proper grumpy too, so buggered if i was going back empty-handed.
After some skulking around the lower corridors -among the laundry and the like- I happened across the staff kitchen, which had some plated meals on one of those carousel vending machines. The walls and machines were daubed “Staff only” or some kind of barbaric foreign equivalent. I make it a point to ignore any sign not written in the Queen’s English using Parker’s Royal Blue ink, so set about it. I selected something pasta-based and some cold pizza and wrestled with my change – all the while checking for the enemy. I forwent using the microwave as a bridge too far. I grabbed a set of cutlery and sneaked back to the room with my haul concealed in a laundry bag.
Chan didn’t like the pasta.
The following day featured very little beyond indulging our slothful nature and eating savage food dressed up pretty. Poutine with confit duck, anyone?
So dense you can see light bend around it
Beer and a Maple Éclair
So yeah, otherwise we did the Macaque monkey impression and lurked around water for the duration.
Fight on, comrades
Kurzfassung auf Deutsch: Wir haben sehr wenig gemacht und es hat toll gegeben. Fast jeder hier spricht Französisch. Ich spreche keinen, also dann spreche ich Englisch lauter.
