Can you be a tourist in your hometown?

We wandered from Saratoga to Oneonta (NY) to visit Josh and Ruth (and brush up on our Trivial Pursuit skills).  Did you know that Ali McGraw almost got the female lead in Chinatown but didn't because she was married to the director and ran away with Steve McQueen?  Neither did I, but I amazed even myself with that correct answer, solved by the magic of long lost connections in my brain.  The Baby Guinnesses that Josh made were pretty good, too.



Then on to New York City for Saturday night. Susan found tickets to a show, and I snagged a sweet deal on a comfortable hotel in the Financial District called Club Quarters. The financial district was deserted for the weekend, but we were a brisk walk away from Greenwich Village, and could've done a 10 minute subway ride if we needed to.

Although I grew up in New York City, I never got to know lower Manhattan very well. And it's changed a lot since the early 70s. Now, when I return I'm a tourist.

We were in dire of a walk, as we'd spent a lot of time in the car. It was a couple of mile stroll from the Financial District to the Village. Not wanting to get lost, we headed straight up Broadway, but then noticed throngs of people packed into a couple of blocks of Canal Street. Vendors hawking their wares behind tables, and some wandering the streets with suitcases. The stores were packed as well. By the whispered offers of watches and other unknown items, most of this must be hot or contraband in some way. How this survives is an interesting sociological question.

Tired of this, we turned north on Greene Street, watching a stylishly dressed (as if for a night club, yet it was only 4 in the afternoon) young man and woman explode out of a minivan and start walking quickly up Greene Street. Upon noticing a police officer, they quickly changed direction and went the other way, out of sight. Susan and I looked each other, laughed, and starting pondering what story we had stumbled into the middle of.

Further up Greene Street, we hit store after store of high end furniture and home furnishings. Of things I can't imagine anyone would want in their homes. Things so stylish as to be ridiculous. A block from the raucous scene on Canal Street.

We learned a lesson about dinner, too. It was Saturday night. We were chilly. Tired. Hungry. And we had no plan. The place Susan had discovered in one of her archival food magazines that she had brought along (for purposes of extracting thef good recipes and tossing the rest) was still popular (though the magazine was from 2006) and promised a 2 hour wait. Out into the street we were left with choosing among the vast selection of restaurants in that part of Manhattan. It was Manhattan. I wanted a good meal. I wanted to be a bit choosy. A plain, red-sauce Italian place wasn't going to do. Another nearby Italian place seemed overpriced. And empty at 7:30 on Saturday night, which didn't seem like a good sign. (I always feel sorry for the restaurateurs that have empty restaurants. How can they change that? It's a vicious circle). Finally, we realized that we recognized the restaurant we were looking at. We were in the same part of SoHo that we had visited last year at about the same time. And there were several restaurants we had identified, yet didn't have time to visit. And one of them had room. So in we went. Had a decent, if not memorable meal. And were satisfied. A French bistro, presaging our upcoming trip.

The next day was a short visit with Mama in Riverdale, including a trip up to Epsteins to savor New York's finest deli food.



Finally, we descended upon Susan's sister and her family on Long Island to prepare for a morning departure to....St. Lucia!

Catch up -- Part 3 - Burlington to Saratoga in pictures

Let's finish up this catch up with some pictures. Breakfast at MacDonalds. This was the food, but I thought the shapes were more interesting.

It was cold. We checked out the lakeside (Lake Champlain) and got a good history lesson. Back in the day, the Lake was the main transportation link. These were happening places. Fought over in various wars. I think it was all downhill after the railroads and highways came through.

Coffee to warm up at Uncommon Ground. The local independent coffee shop directly across the Church Street pedestrian mall from Starbucks. Warm and welcoming, but we had to be quick to snag a seat.

The best meal of the day was in Vergennes, VT, which as Susan discovered is the smallest city in the state. Lunch at 3 Squares was a pleasant surprise. Unfortunately, I have no pictures for you. (Actually, I took some, but I'm not willing to share). The highlight of Vergennes was the shoe store. High end shoes from small manufacturers that I'd never heard of. The prices on the bottoms were all over $200. The salesman was dressed in a three-piece suit with black shirt, and was very proud of his shoes.

Middlebury. Home of Middlebury College. But also home to perhaps the greatest loaf of bread I'd ever tasted -- Otter Creek Bakery.

Did you know that John Deere got his start in Middlebury, Vermont?



Brandon Motor Lodge. A roadside motel run by a young couple with two little children including a newborn.  Simple, welcoming.  More than you'd expect from the basic look from the street.

Common Ground Bakery and Cafe in Cambridge, NY. Susan and I discovered this place about four years ago, before it even opened. The Twelve Tribes, a Christian communal living group had a festival in the park by the railroad tracks as we were driving through Cambridge. Terrific food. A spectacular tour bus with handcrafted woodwork inside. Some people call them a cult. The women all wear simple cotton dresses and the men all have short bobbed pony tails. The food is wholesome and tasty. The people are always gentle and calm. It's nice to have a place in Cambridge, NY that you can look forward to eating at. Beware though -- their closed on Saturday for sabbath. And Sunday too.





More Common Ground Pics here.

The final bit of drive to Saratoga Springs was treacherous. 2-4" of snow may not seem like much, but I think the state and the towns were preserving their budget. It was slippery, especially in Susan's little Prius.

Catch up -- Part 2 - Burlington

In the summer, I suspect we would have given Quebec more time. Sam said that the Gaspe Peninsula, which is due east of Quebec City and north of Maine is wonderful. But I suspect it's desolate in the winter, so we will have to find out on another excursion.

We aimed towards Burlington, Vermont at mid-morning on Monday February 15. Presidents Day. Which meant nothing in Quebec. The uneventful journey without anything on the agenda led to the parting photographs of the Quebec flag, the phone booth and the plastic awnings, all of which had made an impression upon me, and which I felt needed to be captured on film.

Once crossing the border, we ate "out of the box" for lunch. Sitting in the parking lot of MacDonalds in the New York border town. Upon entering the MacDonalds, we were surprised to be assaulted by what seemed to be thousands of french-speaking teenagers on a school outing. We thought we were done with French, but no.

"The box" is what didn't get eaten in our effort to clear the fridge and the cupboards before leaving the house. Nuts, dried fruit, salami (Salumi Salami, from Seattle -- best salami on the planet. No joke. Go find out for yourself.) Crackers, home made bread pieces. We'd been generally using this for snacks, but an occasional lunch was the idea.

We chose to cross the border on I-87 to enter New York state, then take the scenic route down Grand Isle in Vermont. Grand Isle seems to be a series of islands hanging into Lake Champlain. Again, it looks like a happenin' place in the summer, and pretty desolate in the winter. Lots of skating. Fishing from ice shacks. And, we found out later, ice golf.


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Upon approaching Burlington, Susan talked me into staying at the Motel 6 for $45 a night. I'm not sure I've ever spent that little for a hotel room. But, the building was fairly new. The rooms were clean. There were certainly no "extras" (including tissues or hair dryer), and internet access was an extra $2 a night (for one computer only) but the big advantage was that we were happy to spend the night elsewhere.

Elsewhere was strolling downtown Burlington, and dining at American Flatbread.

The American Flatbread experience gets me thinking about traveling in the age of the internet. The last time I did a trip of significance was in 2005, to Provence and Paris. I remember relying on a guide book for culinary recommendations. Now, I rely on Yelp and related sites. In Quebec, there wasn't too much activity on Yelp, and I felt a bit lost. Of course, there's always just wandering around and taking chances, which is fine.

In Burlington though, we cooled our heels a bit in the Motel 6, and had a little time to research culinary options. We boiled it down to two. One called Tilly's cafe, that people LOVED. But sadly, was closed. The other was American Flatbread. That people also loved. Very much. Organic. Locally sourced. Delicious. Fantastic. People were effusive in their praise. And, it was still in business.

Sunday night was Valentines Day. (Anniversary of our first date!) American Flatbread was packed, with an hour and a half wait. Which allowed us to wander Burlington a bit more and have a drink. All ages. All demographics. Vast beer list, including those they brew themselves. I felt the urge to photograph, and have lots -- it was a photogenic place. Here's a few, and a few more on Flickr.











Looks like a fun place, eh!?

The beer was very good. Our waitress was exceptionally accommodating in allowing us many tastes. The flatbread was good too. Pizza. Exceptional? I don't know. We had one with a locally sourced sausage and some mushrooms. I think I prefer Pepe's in New Haven (more of a tomato pie there), or even Upper Crust in the Boston area. But it was a fun place with a good vibe. I'd recommend it.

Catch up -- Part 1

We arrived in Saratoga Springs today, at Susan's mom's place. A couple of days to regroup. I'm taking the opportunity to catch up on the blog. I realize that as I slip more behind, the immediacy of what we're seeing becomes lost. Quebec seems like ages ago, and I've barely told you about our first day there. When I was too cold to photograph. So, it's a good day to catch up. I'll do

Second day in Quebec was even colder! You wouldn't know it by the temperature -- still in the high 20s -- but the wind was whipping, and any foray outside the car took it's toll. After a slow morning, we ventured outside for a drive up the St. Lawrence River to Ile d'Orleans, an Island just northeast of Quebec City.


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Though the weather was mild for Quebec, and had been for months, the river was spectacularly frozen. The effects of freezing and thawing cycles and a swiftly moving river, and wind were clearly seen by the car-sized ice boulders strewn by the shore. Other places nearby were not nearly so dramatic. That's Quebec City in the background of this photograph. Ile d'Orleans was quiet on this winter weekday -- not much reason for anyone to go there, but it does look like it is vibrant during the summer. Additional icy river pictures.


Saturday proved to be the perfect day for outdoor adventures. Blue skies, some wind. We combined cross country skiing (justifying dragging them around with us, for sure) with a visit to the Ice Hotel (Hotel du Glace). While skiing, we made a pact that ONE of us had to carry a camera where ever we went, because we have nothing to show our ruddy complexions after an energetic couple of hours of skiing. Despite being a weekend, the cross country ski facility at Duchesney was not busy at all, and provided just the right amount of exercise for us.



Hotel du Glace was worth visiting, but we both agreed that we would have no interest in staying the night. It's cold. You spend a lot of money. You only get to use the room from 8:30PM to 8:30AM because they let you tour all the rooms. Although there are furs on the foam mattresses, you need to huddle into your mummy bag all night to stay warm. Although we started our tour toasty warm from the skiing, but the time an hour was up our fingers were hurting (Susan's teeth were hurting!) and we were ready to go. We skipped the cocktails in the ice glasses. Both the glasses and the ice columns used in the Hotel du Glace were made with a special technique invented by NASA so that there are no air bubbles. If there are no air bubbles, apparently you can lick the ice and not have your tongue stick. Go figure. More Hotel du Glace photos.

Perspectives on Quebec
We spent four days in Quebec.  Here are a few random observations.

You see the Quebec flag way more than you see the Canadian flag.  The blue and white flag is all over the place, usually without the red and white national flag. Imagine seeing the Massachusetts flag all over the place, without being accompanied by the stars and stripes.

Phone booths.  You still see lots of public phones.  Not that I ever saw people using them, but there were lots  of public phones.

Driveway and walkway awnings.  Made of plastic,.  Sometimes of wood.  Everywhere.  Lots of places didn't have garages, but people had these plastic awnings.  Keeps the snow off, I guess and avoids some shoveling.  Curious that we don't see them in Massachusetts (or New Hampshire, or Vermont).


Language.  Canada is supposedly a bilingual place, but Quebec is French speaking through and through.  All the signs are in French.  The road signs are, thankfully, in pictures.



Susan speaks great French, so we were able to communicate everywhere.  In most places, people that knew we spoke English in business establishments spoke very good English to us.  I suspect we could have gotten by easily with English.

Other perspectives?  Perhaps.  Mostly just the diversity of what people do and how people live that's different from our own experience.  Quebec is not far.  Some of what we saw and experienced was just like home.  And some so different.  Which may not be that different from going to Texas.

Too cold to photograph -- Quebec City

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After wandering the wilds of the eastern townships of Quebec, we arrived at B&B La Bedondaine in the Sillery district of Quebec City. A few kilometers west of Vieux Quebec (Old Quebec), close enough to easily pop into town, but in a quiet neighborhood. We stayed in the basement of our hosts' suburban house. I've been in B&Bs many times before, but usually they've been in classic large homes converted to B&B when the original home became too large for normal people to use. This was different. The family lived upstairs -- our hosts and their two teenage children. We lived downstairs. Four rooms -- two with bathrooms, two that share. Plus, a small living room with kitchenette (well, a microwave and small fridge) and the breakfast room with a full kitchen and tables for all the guests. We had the place to ourselves for a couple of days, and were spoiled by all the space. All in all a good arrangement.

After a morning of puttering, we finally made it out the door and drove to Vieux Quebec, the walled old city, to wander and take it in. Like I say in the title, it was cold. Not Quebec cold for sure (it was the mid- to upper-20s -- or just below zero in local temperature). But cold enough that I didn't feel like taking out my camera. So, you get a map, and none of my pictures. We wandered the old streets, taking in the sights, including the architecture and the views of the St. Lawrence River. The Chateau Frontenac. The Citadel. All with plenty of history.

Winter Carnival (Carnaval de Quebec) was ongoing. Rides for the kids. Music for the grownups. People walking around in snowsuits because they were going to be outside for hours on end (we didn't think to come prepared for that). Outdoor concerts and fireworks. Cold. Several hours of walking in the cold makes you cold. And drained. We beat a retreat back to the basement of our B&B to rest before dinner in Sillery.

Sillery is a section of Quebec, and it has a vibrant commercial district a few blocks long on Maguire Street. We had much to choose from on this street, including Indian fare, which we had the night before, or the Algerian food at Rameau d'Olivier. This was a pleasant surprise! Susan and I shared a Table d' Hote, with the highlight the lamb tagine with prunes, which was tender and deeply satisfying. Sorry! No pictures, but Susan may have posted one.

Sherbrooke

I am so far behind, and we've barely started. Somehow, Susan manages to keep up. I think it's because she wakes up earlier. Today we've made it to Brandon, VT. But there's a whole Quebec story to catch up with. So...rewind a few days to the day after our arrival in Quebec...the city of Sherbrooke.

I'd never heard of Sherbrooke, QC, and it's a sizable city. Just goes to show how little we know about our neighbors to the north. Sherbrooke was once an English-speaking enclave. Many of the buildings have inscriptions in English. It is home to two colleges. Since we got a late start on Wednesday morning, we decided to do a little walking tour of downtown. Quickly, we came upon the water feature that dominates the center of town. Waterfalls on the river, with a walkway along it. I'm sure it's lovely in the summer to stroll along. We were a little colder than that! But the water on the two separate waterfalls was powerful, and we were attracted to the ice formations.

I won't mention lunch....it was a disappointment. The lesson for meals is now -- don't wait until we're so hungry we just have to eat something.

After a couple of hours, we decided to head for the main event -- Quebec City, via the "scenic route". Pretty countryside, I'm sure bustling in the summertime with bicyclists and campers. It was pretty desolate in the winter.

Most noteworthy was the region surrounding Thetford Mines. Mile upon mile of strip mining, and we couldn't figure out what it was, till we checked with good ol wikipedia and found out it was all asbestos.

Truckin...

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Packed up, cleaned up, loaded up, locked up, revved up, and on our way by Tuesday early afternoon. Seems like the soundtrack should have been "Truckin", but somehow Susan was humming fiddle and cello by Alasdair Fraser and Natalie Haas, and that became the soundtrack for both of us.

Pointing vaguely north with a bed and breakfast reservation in Quebec City for Thursday night. By the time we were in New Hampshire, Susan had perused the AAA guide, and we hatched a plan to visit Lac Massawippi, not far from the Vermont/Quebec border, and hope to find a friendly accommodation. We discovered quickly that the tour guides are written by people who want you to visit places. I'm sure Lac Massawippi is a energized place in the summer, but in the winter, there wasn't much to recommend it. Our helpful AAA guide informed us that the area was settled by the British, and was frequented by Americans looking to escape the heat of summer. There were a few inns of good repute, listed at rates considerably higher than we were willing to spend, but we figured there may be some opportunities lurking in the shadows. The hamlet of Ayers Cliff boasted a 10-room creaky hotel above the bar/pool hall with a dining room was open for dinner on Thursday-Sunday. At a rate only a few dollars less than we'd be paying in Quebec City, we figured checking the north end of the lake, in North Hatley, would be worth a go. Sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose, and North Hatley was even less energetic than Ayers Cliff, so we set our sights on the biggest blob on the map -- Sherbrooke.

By now, we were well of the beaten path, and at what we found out later was the southern end of Sherbrooke, we found a variety of motels that were a throwback to 1958. Witness the postcard at the bottom of yesterday's entry. Clean, serviceable, and open. Room enough for our many bags. Free wifi. And time enough to forage for food in Sherbrooke proper.

Chez Charlie promised to be quick. And, boasted the local favorites of smoked meat and poutine. Open 24 hours. Smoked meat I knew about from my last trip to Montreal (though I hadn't had it). Poutine I had a vague memory of hearing about. Between Susan and I, we tried both. Now I've had them. The smoked meat was lean, tasty and salty. Smoother than corned beef. I don't know what kind of meat it is (I assumed beef -- my recollection was that smoked meat was a Montreal-Jewish kind of dish, so probably not pork). Served on bread in a big stack like a New York deli. With a tasty plate of fries, and a vinegared, slightly sweet cabbage salad, which despite its bland appearance, complemented the meat well.

Poutine. Hard to figure how this one was invented. A bed of french fries, topped with cheddar cheese curds and a brown gravy. Susan ordered hers with smoked meat, but there were other varieties as well. Salty. Tasty for sure. Would I order it again? Probably not. Wish I had brought my camera. Susan thought to take a picture with her camera phone.

Intermission Begins

29 years. I went from high school to college. College to consulting. And never looked back. 29 years using my creativity to solve my client's needs. While I have never been a work-all-the-time workaholic, it was time for a break. A sabbatical. An intermission. Before embarking on the next phase of life, whatever that will be. I had never taken a vacation of longer than two weeks. I'd dreamed of three weeks, and when I turned 50 cooked up the bright idea of -- gasp -- a month. But two years have gone by since then, and it was time.

So, off we go. Susan and I. To explore the world (well, some of it), and more importantly, ourselves. More on the exploration as we go. We will be gone for SEVERAL months, taking in various climates and continents. And our house is rented, so there's no turning back. No changing our minds.

Susan got a head start on her blogging before we left. So follow her version of this at Susan's Blue Skies. She's much funnier than me. She talks about Q-tips. And pickles.

Along the way, there will be people we meet. And sights to see. And futures to ponder. And food to try. (Food! See my food blog, Improbable Pantry!

So, follow the journey. People have asked us to send postcards. How's this?