/travel/canada/Toronto to Halifax and Back
I'm sitting in a Greyhound bus, soon to depart for St. Catherines. It's much cooler than the train I was just on, for the Montreal-Toronto leg, and much warmer than the train I was on from Halifax to Toronto. In fact, it's just right.
There were no unseemly events on the rest of the train journey there, or back. I finished "Blink" and it was pretty crap, but not as crap as Tipping Point. Or maybe I was just braced for it. It had interesting stories and anecdotes and studies, but it was desparately trying to be rigorous when it wasn't. And, unless my recollection of Aeron chairs is incorrect, the author doesn't seem to know the difference between "dependent" and "independent". His word-choice is frustratingly lax, and the way he draws parallels if often dubious. I guess that's why it's called Pop Psychology, and not Psychology literature, but I wish he'd find a slightly more rigorous middle ground.
On the way there, I met an Irish girl from Galway, but who now lives and teaches in Dublin. We chatted about our various countries and their stereotypes, pros, and cons. I was surprised to find someone like that on the train. In fact, I'm surprised to find a lot of people on the train. There were single people, high-school aged couples, old couples, families. Most of the way I was sitting solo, but for the last leg of the journey, I spoke at length with a Kuwaiti-born of Indian descent studying in Canada. He had interesting -- if somewhat pessimistic -- views on the Middle East Conflict, and seemed to strongly concur when I mused about my utter lack of understanding the strategy of provocation involved in the kidnapping of Israeli soldiers. We talked about oil, Iraq, Canada, I gave him a brief overview of the (largely defunct) Northern Ireland conflict, and the current status quo. There was also a fellow who could only be described as a pimp; he wore matching bright sports top and bottoms, two big gold chains with pendants, and some kind of brass knuckles with what appeared to be lion head engravings. He talked quietly on the cell phone, admonishing the other participant not to share news of his arrival. At least one other person was taking the train for environmental reasons -- her Nalgene bottle announced that "environmentalists do it for future generations."
This bus driver is doing the semi-standard announcments. He seems a bit eccentric: he's talked about the weather, the fact that we can't chat with him about the World Cup since it's over, and the interior temperature -- "Which is set to 22 degrees Celsius, for you Canadians you know what that means," he said with a light brogue, "for you Americans, that's...'nice'." Apparently 22 is the guideline from the Ontario Ministry of Transport. And traffic is light. And you can use the washroom in an emergency, but you're better off to wait until we get to St. Catherines.
I had a good time in Halifax, saw all my family, hung out on a nearby beach, each day building a more grandiose sand castle with my nieces and nephews, each day hoping the tide was coming in to provide a classic struggle of Man vs. Nature, each day being disappointed by the tide heading out. On my last evening, we went back to the beach hoping the tide would be coming up, to watch the destruction of all our efforts. We were greeted, instead, with a lively lightning storm, and eventually with rain, which probably won the race to destroy the rock-reinforced castle, and the nearby forest of sand-trees.
I played Scrabble, Boggle, and Trivial Pursuit aplenty. Two years of reading the economist have helped my history immensely, which my Econ 102 prof ("The history of economics is the history of society.") would no doubt be delighted by. I was also bested by my 8 year old neice at Boggle. Just once, mind you, but beaten nonetheless!
Tonight I'm visiting my aunt on my mother's side, and hopefully tomorrow my aunt, uncle, and cousins on my dad's side. The future beyond that is fuzzy. I fly back Wednesday night, arrive Thursday morning, and proceed directly to a wedding. Do not pass go, do not collect $100. (I played Monopoly, too, and was beaten by my sister, as expected.)
