Ottawa, part two

Short post today. Yesterday we went to the Canadian Museum of Civilisation, which covered the development of the country (culturally and politically), with an emphasis on First Peoples and on notable Canadians. Walked across the river which divides Ontario from Quebec, as the museum was on the other side. No rain, first time in Ottawa. We then went to watch the new Woody Allen film, which was hilarious. Ottawa's cinemas are really small - small screen, very little gap between rows, would have hated to have been in there if the room was packed because I'd have struggled to see the screen.

Later on that night we had dinner at an awesome vegan restaurant (which I'm sure Cathy will post about later), and we went to an industrial club which was about 3 blocks from our hotel and was the place where Cathy saw FLA play about 18 months ago. Very jealous of that!

Didn't do too much today, as we're pretty much at the end now. Accordingly, it's hard to write too much, so will probably write some more later, once we're back.

Ottawa, part one

We had a day of cold, relentless rain in Jasper, a fierce yet welcome thunderstorm in New York City (welcome because it broke the heatwave), rain in Halifax, PEI (especially on the drive to PEI), and Montreal (at the Osheaga festival). Other than that, it’s been warm and sunny, though in some cases there’s been even too much warmth and sun (being stranded in the middle of nowhere on an Amtrak train waiting for the rails warped by excessive heat to be fixed was unsettling). And everyone in Ottawa tells us it’s been really dry recently, and the rain is needed. Fine, but couldn’t it have waited until next week? The rain on the train journey from Montreal to Ottawa was as fierce as any rain I’ve seen that came without thunder. But the interesting thing about rain here is that it doesn’t seem to settle in – there are strong showers, which (if you have a slightly elevated view) you can see coming (because the land is quite flat), then they move on.

We said a final goodbye to trains of North America and arrived in Ottawa - our 15th and final stop - around 8pm on Saturday night and thankfully the rain had cleared. Jumped in a cab to the hotel, which is apparently the swishest hotel in town – so swish that QE2 stayed here on her last official visit. Before you ask, we got a good deal on wotif (or the Canadian equivalent). Wandered around the Byward Market area looking for something to eat – Ottawa lacks the obvious vegetarian options that we were starting to take for granted in other cities, restaurants seem to be much more meat-oriented here than elsewhere. I ate quite a number of vegie burgers early in this trip, but at one point (can’t remember where) we ate at a pub that had a vegie burger and I ordered something else because I was getting a bit tired of them, but I haven’t seen any since so I hope I haven’t scared them away. We ended up finding an Italian restaurant which served really nice pasta (and soup and salad for my gluten-intolerant dining partner). We didn’t stay out too late because I wanted to get up early the following day.

So anyway, I got up early the following day and made the gruelling trek one block across town to Parliament Hill. The tour of Canadian Parliament is something I’ve always wanted to do, because of all the governance models in the world, I think the Canadian model is probably the closest to the Australian model anywhere in the world. Still, I found some startling differences. Firstly, the Canadian Senate is still appointed, not elected. Appointments are on the advice of the PM to the GG. While they represent the provinces, the provincial governments play no active part in their appointment. Appointment, similar to the British House of Lords, is for life (though in Canada, they have to retire at the age of 75). Because they are appointed, they play a role of ‘sober second review’, doing lots of research and committee work, and don’t play active politics. The convention is that the Senate never gets in the way of the Commons on important measures such as the Budget, so there has never been a serious deadlock between the Houses (deadlocks are common in the Commons, though). But Senators are not proportioned equally among the provinces. Ontario and Quebec have 24 each, the Maritime provinces share 24 between them, BC has a few and some of the prairie provinces have less, and the northern Territories have one each, because they’re so thinly populated. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ANY OF THIS, TASMANIANS? The tour guide was really nice and helpful, and responded to my numerous interminable questions (seemed everyone else on the tour was interested in the architecture only). This was followed by a tour of the outside area where there are statues of monarchs and ex-PMs, with a view of the Ottawa River (with Quebec on the other side) as a beautiful backdrop.

Cathy and I then went to the National Art Gallery which was hosting a Van Gogh exhibition. Van Gogh really isn’t my thing, but he’s clearly the thing of many other people, judging by the crowd. I really liked the permanent exhibition, which included some of the Brillo Boxes done by Warhol. Until you got up really close and saw they were actually made of wood, they looked so lifelike and real you felt you could reach out and touch them. Of course I didn’t do that, but clearly that was one of the artist’s objectives, and I thought it was achieved. I’m glad I saw them.

Came back to the hotel for a swim (lovely indoor pool downstairs) and returned to find we could barely see out of the window because of the rain. Needless to say, it cleared within the half-hour, and we got a taxi across town to have dinner with some of Cathy’s colleagues who I’m glad I met. I’m sure Cathy will put some photos up in good time. Conversation was great. Following this, we attended the Mosaika exhibition at the Parliament. It was like the Enlighten or Vivid projections in Canberra and Sydney, but whereas those are ‘static’ projections onto multiple buildings, this was a full sound-and-light show projected onto a single building. In an oblique way, it told the story of Canada from about 10000BC right through to the 21^th century, with the focus from about 1860 or thereabouts being the Parliament, and the people it represents, as well as other ‘nation-building’ enterprises such as the national railroad and the CBC. I loved it, I thought it was incredibly well done. An amazingly full day where, apart from dinner a couple of suburbs away, I barely left the central two blocks of town.

So today, it’s a bit gloomy outside. We might go for a walk along the manmade Rideau Canal (not the full distance, obviously), if the rain holds, then we both have ‘work’ to do this afternoon. We’re getting very near the end.

Final count is 28.

Since I mentioned two weeks ago that we'd been through 20 of the 50 states of the US, plus DC, as well as British Columbia, Alberta and Ontario, we've also visited or been through Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Quebec. So that's 7 of the 10 Canadian provinces (not visiting any of the 3 territories as they're far too remote). 

Off to Ottawa today. Hope the rains clear.

Quebec City, and some comments on the bilingualist project.

I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. We’ve had a lot of sunshine on this trip – sometimes, too much – but very little rain, but there’s this thing called the law of averages. Wind and rain have set in across Quebec City and Ottawa and is will be hanging around, by the looks of it, for the next four days at least. It marks a strange contrast to a month ago, when we were stuck on an Amtrak train for 5 hours in the middle of nowhere because it was so hot the track had warped, or our first stint in NYC where it felt like the entire city was a cauldron.

We got the train up to Quebec City from Montreal the day before yesterday, which was pleasant enough, until about 5 minutes from the terminus, when we saw some massive factories spewing all sorts of crap into the air – Quebec City is a town in need of a carbon tax. We go back the same way when we leave for Ottawa – we need to change trains in Montreal because they have a separate line for the journey to Quebec City which seems to have arisen through poor government planning around 1900, at least a decade before the ‘access rights to essential facilities’ theories started to develop (no, don’t ask). We have an hour and a half between trains, but my worry is baggage – given it took us 90 minutes to retrieve our things from Montreal station last time, if it happens again, we could be in trouble. No, don’t think like that: the glass is half full.

Anyway, so Quebec City is the heartland of the French-speaking part of Canada. People here (at least in the City) speak English but it is clearly their second preference – everything is in French. Even the buildings and the city layout look incredibly European, and with French being spoken all around you it is very easy to imagine you are no longer in Canada. The only thing that seems incongruous is the cars. It’s like being in a European city where you have to swerve Chryslers, Pontiacs, Dodges and those massive personal tanks favoured by many people on this continent. You’d think the provincial government would import the odd Renault or Citroen, or even a smart car, to lend an ever so slightly more Parisian ambience. Having said that, they have smart buses here – they run on electricity and are half the size of an ordinary bus which obviously cuts down on running costs in off-peak periods. ACTION: stop whinging, take note, and take action.

So on our first night here – blisteringly gorgeous sunshine – we wandered around the buildings in the upper part of town, and had a drink overlooking the river in a hotel which is apparently the most photographed hotel in the world (how they judge these things, I’ve no idea). For dinner, we had this thing called raclette, which is a Quebec dish similar to fondue where you get a big block of cheese and some meat and/or vegetables (obviously, we just got vegetables), and you put these on a metal tray under a grill which is brought to your table, and you scrape the melting cheese onto the vegetables. I wouldn’t say it was the most brilliant meal ever, but it was certainly an experience. I don’t imagine there are many raclette restaurants in Australia. I’d hate to be a kitchenhand at one, the washing-up process would be somewhat elongated. We walked back, taking photographs of buildings and the horse-drawn carriages in the dusk, some of which (if I do say so myself) look marvellous. I’ll have to put some up when we get back.

Yesterday morning after breakfast (don’t ask) we caught the funicular railway down to the lower part of the town, where we wandered amongst the buildings. We found a fresh food market – food is so fresh here! – and bought a bottle or two of Quebecois wine. One of these was consumed last night, and was really quite nice. As we got hungry (must have been seeing all the fresh fruit and vegies), we hunted around for a restaurant. There was fierce competition – every second shopfront was a café or bistro or restaurant of some kind – but the thing that surprised me was they all offered very similar menus. And not French, as you’d expect, but Italian – pizza and pasta. So once we inevitably gave up, Cathy had a salad. Caught the funicular back up, and had a drink at a bar adjacent to the world’s most photographed hotel, and listened to a Quebecois folk guitarist. We bought his CD, which’ll be a lovely souvenir. Unfortunately I then came back to the room to do some university work (yep, there’s no escaping it now) while Cathy wandered the streets some more. We retired quite early last night, and every half an hour or so, we could hear a horse-drawn carriage clip-clopping past the window. I think we’re starting to get a bit tired, but if we knew that today’s weather would be so crap, we might have pushed ourselves a bit more yesterday.

Today we braved the weather – it eased up somewhat about mid-morning – and wandered around the wall which was built around the city, from what I gather, in two stints: firstly by the French, and then finally by the British. It surrounds what is still an active military facility. Walked up and down the main city outside the wall (standing on the wall gave us a lovely view - and smell - of the factory emissions), and bought some local wine for later – today is definitely a red wine day – and a buffet vegetarian lunch. Would have loved to visit the Quebec provincial parliament but everything in the garden was exclusively in French: significantly problematic. Soon enough we were thirsty, and ventured into a bar for a drink and to get out of the cold. Ended up sitting at the bar for a while watching the Olympics, and cheering for any team competing against the Etats-Unis. At a different bar, I enjoyed a beer from the Yukon territory called ‘Midnight Sun’, which was a strong stout infused with coffee. Delicious, but couldn’t drink too many of them!

So we’re now back in the room, and will probably be here until we leave for Ottawa tomorrow. And now seems a good enough time to launch into some thoughts I’ve had about the Canadian bilingualist project.

You’d have to be blind as well as ignorant to be in Canada and to be unaware that it’s a bilingual nation (there are many more languages than two, of course, but there are two *official* languages). This seems to be one of the nation’s most defining features. Our first taste of Canada was Vancouver, where there is an overwhelming majority of English speakers, but signage is in both English and French. Probably hardly anyone in Vancouver speaks French, so the dual signage in that city is symbolic more than anything. However, symbols matter greatly.

In Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, a true bilinguialism seems to exist. When a resident greets an unknown, the usual greeting is ‘hellobonjour’, as a single word, thus leaving it up to the respondent to set the language of the conversation. This is probably because there are sizeable amount of both Anglophones and Francophones in those provinces, so both are truly accommodated. (I wondered, but too late, what would happen if I was greeted with ‘hellobonjour’ and I responded in kind?)

In Montreal, this was all out the door. I know the province of Quebec is the predominantly French speaking part of the country, but apparently (according to Lonely Planet), 40% of the population of Montreal do not speak French. I know this doesn’t mean the remaining 40% speak English, but English would be the major language of that 40%. And, at the end of the day, Quebec forms part of a nation where one of the two national languages is one other than French. I would have thought Quebec would assert their nation-within-a-nation status by reversing the bilingual signs – French before English – but more often than not, signage is French only. Signage in the Montreal metro (including all advertising) is entirely in French. You’d be forgiven for thinking you were in Paris, and this is probably the point.

I find this surprising. French speakers are clearly a national minority, and outside Quebec they are catered for (even in cities/regions where French speakers would be very thin on the ground); but for non-French speakers in Quebec, from an institutional viewpoint, it’s pretty much stiff fromage.

There’s a provincial election on right now, and campaigning is in top speed. Apparently it’s going to be close, so the parties are out to court the Anglophone vote. Quelle embarrassment when it came to light recently that none of the four main provincial parties had an English website. Three of these quickly published a quick and nasty Anglo version, but the fourth (which I presume to be the hardline separatists) have said a firm NON to that. I just find it amazing that, given almost half of the population in the major city of Quebec does not speak French (according to Lonely Planet) that none of the parties would have arranged an English website until shamed into it (and the fourth makes their refusal a point of distinction). And now there’s a story on the news about the hardliners wanting to ‘new limits on the legal use of the English language’ in order to make French even *more* prominent in Quebec. http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/montreal/story/2012/08/07/quebec-votes-2012-day-7-promises.html

Yes, symbols matter greatly. The impression it gives me is that if you live outside Quebec and speak French, you are accommodated and included by the national culture to the best of its ability; but if you live in Quebec but choose not to learn French, you’re excluded by the dominant regional culture.

This is *absolutely* not a comment on the people of Montreal, who were really friendly to us, and as soon as they realised you didn’t speak French, they switched immediately to English. We encountered no communication problems. So at an individual level, bilingualism definitely exists in Montreal: there is probably much more chance of finding fluent English in Montreal (hardline separatists notwithstanding) than there would be finding fluent French in Vancouver. My comments here aren't about the way bilingualism works 'on the ground', but about the theoretical, cultural and institutional arrangements that have been established to define Quebec as being different from the rest of the country. To this outsider, it seems that the gesture of bilingualism extended to the province of Quebec by the national government isn’t reciprocated by the provincial government to its own residents with any enthusiasm, and what little reciprocation there is feels token. Maybe there is no political separatism, but in a cultural sense, separatism definitely exists.

Visiting Quebec City, which is the heartland of French Canada, my perceptions changed slightly. Here, you are extremely unlikely to hear English unless (a) you walk past an English-speaking tourist on the street or (b) you are in a shop and clearly cannot understand the French spoken to you – in the latter case, the shop assistant will switch to English, but it’s clearly a second preference for them. English signage is almost totally non-existent. However, I hasten to say that everyone we’ve met spoke very good English, and, as a result, we’ve had no problems getting transport, accommodation, food, whatever.

But the reason my perspective changed is because Quebec City itself is charming: the buildings, the ambience, everything: and language is clearly a part of that. The city wouldn’t have the same charm if it wasn’t so overwhelmingly French. But there are clear underlying tensions. For instance, today we walked past the Quebecois provincial parliament, which I would have loved to have toured. But the signs in the courtyard/garden area were exclusively in French, which signalled to me that entering the parliament would be pointless since I wouldn’t understand anything. That’s OK, I can handle being excluded; I don’t live here. But if I was an English-speaking resident of Vancouver who was visiting Quebec to understand more about a distant province of my own country, I might have felt just as excluded.

Language cuts both ways: I suspect the French-speakers in Quebec want to assert the primacy of their language through (as far as possible) total exclusivity for fear that to do otherwise would ultimately see a watering down of the French culture, but it simultaneously sets the province at a distance apart from the rest of the country. And this is the paradox I can’t reconcile – how can the two linguistic bases forge nationhood when the majority extends the olive branch but the minority does not?

I’m also reminded of something that came up in an economics subject last semester, where we considered whether there ought to be ‘language laws’ for immigrants. The conclusion we arrived at was that those who are younger and/or more skilled/educated will have incentives to learn the local language, whereas those who are older and perhaps less skilled will have less incentive. I mean, really, this is nothing more than common sense, and you see it everywhere, but it makes me wonder why language is an issue in the Quebec election at all – if people move into the province and can gain employment from learning French, or if businesses can gain customers from transacting in French, they’ll do it. I don’t understand how ‘language quotas’ can even be monitored, let alone enforced, so I can’t see why it’s a live issue in the election at all. But again, these comments are clearly from an outsider’s perspective: there are probably very legitimate reasons that make perfect sense to residents, I just can’t see what they are.

I’ll be chatting with a mate of mine in Ottawa in a few days, who is a Francophone hailing originally from Quebec City. I’m sure this’ll come up in conversation, and my perspective of this issue will probably change again. And that’s a good thing. I’m also reading a History of Canada as we travel, which is really enlightening. Education is the way forward.

Montreal

We caught the overnight train from Moncton to Montreal, arriving at 9am. We left the station at 10.30am. It took an hour and a half for our bags to appear on the baggage carousel, thus breaking all known records. After about half an hour I wondered whether it was in fact a baggage carousel at all, but was perhaps a modern art installation. After an hour I started making dark cracks about Quebec adopting the French industrial relations model, and that the baggage handlers had a go-slow on. After 90 minutes our bags arrived, and we left to find a taxi – there would have been at least 50 people still at the carousel, waiting. Found a cab, our first sight of the streets of Montreal involved a picket line. I asked the cabbie if there was some industrial action in the railway station, which he confirmed. Apparently it’s summer, and therefore is the season for strikes. Just like Paris, I thought.

Got to the hotel but obviously weren’t able to check in as it was still only about 11am. We left our bags and went for a walk around Old Montreal (the historic bit near the river), taking care to remember our umbrellas - these came in handy once the rains came. Streets and buildings looked amazing in the rain. Visited the Museum of Montreal which is mostly an archaeological site, but the 30 minute AV presentation upon entry (which covered the history of the city from about 12000BC) was remarkable.

Following this, we came back to the hotel and checked in, then found our way to the Osheaga festival. It’s like the BDO but runs for 3 days; the day we arrived in Montreal was the final day, but Cathy thought ahead and bought tickets before we left. Given the weather still looked incredibly unsettled, we brought some cheap plastic ponchos before we went. These came in handy. We saw Tame Impala’s set, which began in blistering sunshine, but its ending ushered in the wind and rain, which were initially violent (and a bit scary) but then settled into a steady rain that lasted for the next few hours. I left my backpack and umbrella at the hotel, expecting BDO-style security, but Canadian festivals are very different. We got frisked on the way in, but that was about it. Many other punters brought bags and umbrellas, and I saw a number of people with hip flasks of spirits. Also saw someone selling shots of vodka directly from an esky, and there were a number of people couriering out massive trays of beer (with softdrink lids on, to keep out the rain and the mud) to the crowd, which meant that punters didn’t have to queue up for a beer provided they were happy to pay a $1 tip to the courier. A very good idea, I thought. Stood in the rain watching Bloc Party (they were on one of the smaller stages), then we went to walk back to the main stages to see Metric but there was a tsunami of people with the same idea, and we were funnelled over a very small bridge which effectively meant we missed half of their set. Still, despite the beastly mud and oomska (much of which is still plastered over my boots), we had a good time. The hotel shower was a welcome relief.

Yesterday morning we went to the Olympic Park area (Montreal held the Olympics in 1976). The stadium looks to have fallen into disrepair, but the tower which housed the torch is still spectacular. We went to the Botanic Gardens and the Biodome, where we saw a beaver (but he didn’t look very happy to see us) and some very playful and friendly otters which made Cathy very happy. We were a bit tired after this so we came back to the room to watch Canada get badly cheated in the Olympic women’s soccer. It reminded me of seeing Australia get cheated out of the 2006 World Cup by the cheating Italians. Still, there was an upside – as the game got deep into the second half and the substitutes began to come on, I introduced Cathy to the term ‘fresh legs’. Dinner last night was at a lovely vegan restaurant (Montreal’s only one, I think, which is a surprise given it seemed quite popular).

This morning we had a very late breakkie at Eggspectations (a name which doesn’t really work in French – oeufspectations?) then went to a couple of art museums, and had a bit of a lazy wander around the main shopping area and/or CBD. Today has been lazy but I don’t mind at all. We need fresh legs. We’ll go out for dinner tonight at a vegie restaurant, and probably not do too much else.

New York - the food - Part 2 or something...

Two more worthy restaurants to report on from New York before finishing my USA food adventure stories..
 
After a day of following the ghosts of my ancestors to Ellis Island, I wanted to go to a Russian restaurant (as they always close down in Australia) - always a risk for someone GF and vego, but I was pleasantly surpised. We went to Onegin, a restaurant based around the poem by Pushkin. The staff were very helpful and we had a fabulous meal...although Jay was rather overwhelmed by the extent of the pickling in the case of the pickles, and alas the potato salad had meat in it :( The decor was fabulous. The beetroot salad was sublime and the vodka wasn't bad either :p They have burlesque shows here on Fridays, me thinks Melinda Farenheit would fit in just fine :)

Last but not least, vegetarians in New York make sure you go to Bhojan, or one of the other numerous vegetarian Indian and kosher restauarants at "Curry Hill". Its always exciting being able to choose pretty much anything on the menu, but the food was absolutely fanastic - and really rivalled some of the expensive Indian food we got in DC (although definitely simpler and less "fancy"). Simla aloo gobi was so yum!

New York - Eat Italy

Eat Italy in New York gets its own entry into the blog because Jay and I absolutely loved it and even ate here twice as a result. Its sort of like the David Jones food hall in Sydney, but filleed with fabulous fresh Italian food and wines, plus there is a rooftop brewery for those people amongst us who like beer. Its right near my fabourite Flatiron building too :)

We ate at the vegetarian counter here called La Verdure twice. The food was incredible. Some of the dishes seemed so simple, like our tomato salad, but were just amazing (I really must get my vegie garden going when I get home).

Jay had some amazing cannelloni and lasagne, while I had some very tasty polenta with mushrooms (sorry Pulp Kitchen you are so outdone here), and the 2nd time, zucchini cooked three ways (take that masterchef). The wine didn't hurt either...

 

On our last night in New York we just had to stop past the cheese counter as well...

 And how could I not love a place that has GF take away panna cottas and yummy raspberry desserts.