urban paddling

Will and I, if you didn't know, have a canoe. I love this canoe. It's a gigantic and heavy aluminum canoe, the kind that was made by an airplane manufacturer after the WWII boom. It's indestructible (although I did once see the same sort of canoe wrapped around a big boulder at the bottom of some falls in Minnesota). Anyway, the canoe hasn't seen much action in Utah--just a few paddles in Little Dell and an adventure down the Green River.

Now we are here in a city of rivers, in a land of lakes. Now that we have finally moved into our apartment and have our stuff out of storage (I have way too many books, by the way, something I have just learned after packing and moving and unpacking them all), we were able to get the canoe onto the water.



There is a lake about a five-minute drive from our house. This lake connects to the Rideau Canal (a world heritage site, which connects the Ottawa and Rideau Rivers); this canal was built to provide an alternate shipping route to the St.Lawrence and was all about fending off the pesky Americans. Anyway, we paddled down the canal (in a slight and sometimes shivery rainfall)and tied up our canoe right downtown.

Downtown, we ate almond croissants and protected ourselves from the rain with hot coffee. And we bought some of our weekly groceries. The farmer's market is also on the canal, so we are thinking next week we will shop by canoe. You can fit a lot of tomatoes in that canoe.



This day of canoeing and shopping makes me love my new city just a little bit. I can canoe downtown people! I miss my desert, but this is a pretty good deal.

Drunk in Canada

So I sort of had this plan about getting through Canada's winter. The plan involved gin, so not a very healthy one. But, you know, you do what you have to. We'll see what the winter has in store for me and whether I will need to employ my gin-based survival plan. But if I do need to survive winter by drunkenness I have moved to the right place.

Apparently, Canadians love beer almost as much as they love hockey. In a commercial for an all-Canadian quiz show, the four things they use to define Canadians are: comedians, hockey-lovers, people who say sorry a lot, and beer drinkers. That's right, they are a nation of beer drinkers and proud of it.

Since I didn't start drinking until I was about 30 and because I started drinking in the land of the 3.2 beer, I don't really know how to drink. I am a lightweight. I like to drink shandies.

Now we are in Canada, where the beer is beer and you don't have to order food to go with it. Oh no. Let me just say that I have had to grab onto stair railings and I have walked crookedly out of several bars. After one pint. Staying partially drunk through the winter shouldn't be too hard.

And in other notes on behavior that may or may not be caused by alcohol or other substances: there is a guy in my new neighborhood who walks around repeating, "Terrorism. Child Abduction. Canada. Terror." And other things that I haven't yet figured out. The other day at the fry cart (yes, ottawa has french fry carts instead of taco carts) we met a kid who a) told us how awesome the italian sausages at that stand are b) showed us his dance moves 3) sang us a Squeeze song. (there are consequences to pot being decriminalized)

in which I am brought to tears (but not in a bad way)

So, we've been in the Ottawa for nearly three weeks (the longest three weeks of my life!) which has included many tedious tasks such as finding an apartment, trying to get a driver's license, getting a car fixed (of course, we got in an accident the day before we left for Canada), getting cell phones, blah, blah. These three weeks also included a short trip to Montreal. Why didn't we decide to move there? Delicious pastries on every corner (and a lot of rain, but who cares when there are pastries?) Montreal is wicked and it's only two hours from Ottawa, so everyone should come visit. Ok!

To keep my sanity here in this new place where I don't know a soul, I have been buying a lot of tickets to concerts: Itzhak Perlman and Pinchas Zukerman in September, Feist in October, and last night the Ottawa Folk Festival.

The fest was four days of music, but post-wedding and post-moving we are poor and cannot afford four days of music. But we could afford (well, sort of) one night of music. I carefully selected from the four days and the line up was all I hoped it would be. The only downer was that there was a bit of spoken word ("the prodigal son of a dharma bum") which we managed to avoid by wandering off to another stage.

A very cool--and surprising--ukulele/ cello combo; some crazy mix of accordian, bluegrass, and African folk music; the Duhks (bluegrass for the party people); Odetta. Odetta. She was rockin and I only wish I could have heard her decades ago. All praise Odetta.

But the best, and most surprising moment, came from Rufus Wainwright. Ok, I know Hightouch and Dr. Write are big RW fans, but for me he's always sort of been in the musical background. All of his set was wonderful, surprising, and endlessly listenable. But at the end, at the encore. Wow. Of course he did Hallelujah which was great and all, but then he ended with Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

I read about his Judy Garland stuff back when and I thought it sounded kind of cheesy. I'd read good reviews, but I didn't really believe them. Judy Garland is Judy Garland and from my point of view, you really can't touch her. Especially with Somewhere Over the Rainbow. That is her song and no one else should sing it. Everyone else makes the song seem banal and simpering, but Judy Garland made it raw and real and representative of all life's fragile hope. When I was a kid, I used to sit in my bedroom singing the song into a tape recorder, willing my voice to sound like hers.

Early in the set, RW sang another Judy song and it was wonderful. I could hear immediately that his homage was not a foolish idea. So when the introductory notes to Somewhere (played lightly and lovely by his mother, Kate McGarrigle) came from the stage, I knew I was going to hear something amazing.

So I have decided that only Judy Garland and Rufus Wainwright should sing that song. After the show, I could hear bits and pieces of all of his songs in my head, except for that last one. That one, I could only feel in my stomach. I told Will it was worth coming to Canada just for that moment.