Another refugee story

Ted. Our tour of Nova Scotia led us to two Canadian National Historic Sites; Port Royal and Grand Pré ("Big Meadow" in English). The Annapolis River Valley was once on the front lines in a centuries-long fight between the British and the French.

Exterior of recreated compound at Port Royal

Port Royal was founded as a French trading settlement in 1605, five years before Jamestown. The compound was burned to the ground by the Brits in 1613 because their turf (Virginia!) was being infringed upon. 

Interior

But that was just the start, as this area repeatedly changed hands between these two superpowers over the decades. Becoming British once again in 1713, a series of small wars led the Brits to conclude that all French speaking Catholics needed to be removed so that English speaking Protestants could take their place. As it turns out, ethnic cleansing wasn’t a 20^th century invention!

From 1755-1764, 80% of all Acadians (more than 10,000 men, women and children) were stripped of their property and forcibly deported from Grand Pré and the other French communities in what became known as The Great Expulsion.

Grand Pré Unesco World Heritage Site

Actually, none of them went straight to Louisiana (as I erroneously stated in my previous post). They were mostly shipped to the English colonies in North America. Tossed onto distant shores with virtually nothing but the clothes on their backs, speaking a different language and practicing a different religion, the Acadians somehow survived. Over the following decades, the descendants of this diaspora scattered across the continent with some even returning to Europe. And yes, a number did end up in Louisiana. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was deeply moved upon hearing the tragic story of a young Acadian refugee who had travelled across North America searching for her lost love, Gabriel. In 1847 he immortalized her story in an epic poem, Evangeline, A Tale of Acadie.  

Statue commemorating Evangeline with memorial chapel

When we see the unprecedented numbers of refugees wandering the earth now, it would appear that humanity has never learned a thing. It is also apparent, though, that we are an irrepressible species and, given half a chance, tend to flourish wherever we are planted. One wishes the best for today's Evangelines.

Even nicer!

Judy. Ken, a friend and former student sent me the following memory of his time in the military. Three years before, on 9/11/2001, the people of Gander, Newfoundland did the same when American planes were grounded there. The fact that Ken experienced it as well shows that these folks are a caring group.

After checking with some friends here, we verified with Ken that it was Greenwood, N.S. When driving through the Annapolis Valley, we made it a point to drive up to this base to take a couple of photos.

I have a fond Nova Scotia memory. Around 2004 I was on a military plane with about 60 others that had mechanical issues. We had to divert there unexpectedly. It was a smaller and lightly used airport, possibly Canadian Air Force, located just outside a tiny village. I cannot remember the name. We were stranded for 2 days and were not prepared for Canada in February. We had been on our way home after spending almost a year in the middle east, so we were pretty frustrated with the delay to begin with. It ended up being a wonderful experience. The entire town just opened up and welcomed our group. They brought out jackets and other cold weather gear, opened up restaurants, shops, and even their own homes. They offered to let us use their showers and extra bedrooms. It was apparent they wanted to make us as comfortable and welcome as possible. We were sleeping in an older heated terminal and they went as far to prepare and deliver homemade dinner for those who may not of wanted to venture into town. They opened up a local pub and invited us in. Cold Canadian beer at no charge and great conversation. It felt like we were just visiting old friends. The local population was some of the kindest and generous folks I have ever met. Sooner or later I'll get back to visit properly.

Nice

Judy. When I was a teen, my mom once threw up her hands and said, “What have I done to make you apologize all the time,” to which I responded, “I’m sorry!”  Maybe that’s why I feel so at home in Canada. It’s the only place I hear apologies as often as I give them out.

Canada is nice. That’s not news—articles have been written about how nice Canadians are. Robin Williams once said, “Canada, you are the kindest country in the world. You are like a really nice apartment over a meth lab.”

Being from the South, I’m used to nice. Being from Atlanta, I don’t always see it. Yes, I know, there are nice people and mean people everywhere, but some places it’s just more obvious. Sure, there are some crazy drivers here, but not many that I’ve seen. People stop their cars when we jaywalk. And if you’re concerned about crossing safely, many

Crossing flags

crossing lanes have orange flags in holders on either side: you can carry a flag with you so cars see you, then leave it in the holder on the other side.

Everyone says “thank you” when they get off the bus. A stranger we spoke to on the ferry to Dartmouth told us the best way to get on and off Prince Edward Island. The first time we went into St. Mark’s Anglican Church for services, four people walked up to the pew where we were sitting and welcomed us. The three ladies in front of us asked us to sit with them at the coffee hour. One day we commented to a woman who lives down the street about how beautiful her roses are. She told us to come by and cut some to take to our home. Small business owners take their time and talk to each customer. Those waiting don’t mind; their turn will come in a few minutes and they’ll get all the attention,

Buongiorno Caffe

The inimitable Frederico

Frederico, who owns the small coffee kiosk up the street met us once. Once. But today when we stopped by, he greeted us warmly and told us he saw us on the Dartmouth ferry on Sunday. He’s always full of smiles, and the line to the window is invariably long, but we don’t mind. When it’s our turn, we’ll get all the attention. By the way, he makes GREAT coffee.

It feels cozy here.

Colorful Lunenburg

Last weekend we drove along the South Shore to visit the Peggy’s Cove Lighthouse and some of the picturesque fishing (read tourist) towns along the coast. They were all

Peggy's Cove

sweet and quite lovely. We stopped in Lunenburg, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, for lunch. The couple next to us, actually from Connecticut, but who have a beach cottage up here where they stay much of the year, struck up a conversation, asking where we wanted to spend the afternoon and what we might like to see: more towns, or nature? They recommended some beautiful beach walks--in particular, Gaff Point.

As our conversation continued, we discovered we’ll both be in Croatia at the same time in October! Contact information was exchanged, and plans were made to meet there. Then Walter said, “You know, you can just drive to our beach house and park in the driveway. That way you don’t have to cross so many rocks when you walk the shore.”

Two hours later, we were walking with Mary Lou and their dog Otto, while Walt helped

Beautiful beachwalk 

a neighbor with a project. After a long walk through breathtaking scenery, Walt met us and they invited us in for coffee and tea. We just couldn’t stop talking about—I don’t even know. Everything! Since we’ll be back that way in July with our friends Gary and Sally, we suggested the possibility of all having dinner together. With that plan, we hugged them goodbye and headed back to Halifax.

The next morning we received an email from them inviting the four of us to spend the night, eat dinner with them, and enjoy a bonfire on the beach.

Mary Lou and Walt

Mary Lou and Walt are Americans—the US kind. They are open and generous, interesting and funny.

And they, too, are nice. Welcome to Canada, y'all!

A Busy Week

Judy.  As you know, we don’t usually make a big deal about sightseeing when we visit a city. I can’t say we’ve made a BIG deal, but we have seen quite a few things in our ten days in Halifax, in part because we’re just curious.

On the first sunny (but still windy) day, we walked to the Citadel, a fortification dating from 1749, though there have been several incarnations since then. The present one is a star-shaped double-walled fort begun in 1828—to stop a land-based invasion by the US. Remember the war of 1812?

According to the Park Ranger, it’s been in use since, with a brief stint as munitions storage. Now it’s a National Historic Site, and is a super place to spend the day. Docents are dressed as the 78^th Highlanders Regiment, who manned the fort form 1869-1871, so we learned about their various uniforms, tested the weight of their coats and the equipment they wore, as well as the equipment they used. The docents are diverse, with several young women in uniform. That’s not historically accurate, but the young Indian man in uniform does represent the Indian soldier who served at that time in the Regiment. Love all this info!

Young docent standing guard

The views of the city and harbor are spectacular, and there are great exhibits of the history of Nova Scotia and of the wars in which Canadian soldiers served. William Hall was the first Black Canadian to be awarded the Victoria Cross in 1854 during the Crimean War. Sadly, he died in poverty and was placed in an unmarked grave.

The exhibit, though, that touched us the most, was of a WWI trench, an idea conceived by the Park Ranger who is in

WWI trench

charge there, to honor those soldiers who fought during that war. It is 300 feet long, muddy, and claustrophobic. Docents in WWI uniforms guide you through, past soldier’s bunks, officer’s quarters, medic rooms, and communications. There is graffiti on the walls. I’ve never seen anything like it, and it was a powerful and emotional experience.

Sunday we attended church at St. Mark’s Anglican, a five-minute walk from our place. We were swarmed with attention, stories of the Halifax Explosion and St. Mark’s part in it (200 of the 2,000 killed were members there), and suggestions of things to do while in town. The following Tuesday we volunteered with the food bank they support. All the volunteers there had worked the bank for twenty years or so, and I loved seeing the kindness and respect they had for each of the clients.

On Sunday afternoon we took the bus to the Public Gardens. Spring is slightly delayed here, but the rhododendrons were lush, the azaleas profuse, and the variety of trees and greenery an absolute delight. To top it off, we were treated to the first of the Sunday afternoon free jazz concerts!

From there we walked 10 minutes to the Halifax Central Library, called Halifax’s Living Room. It was beyond belief. There are five floors (the top with a view of the city), books and media in every language, an area devoted to First Nations, several covered booths where people could work privately, two cafés, and a performance space (a dance recital was in progress). Never seen anything like it! Outside are chairs and tables for relaxing in the sun. Yeah, I’d live in a spot like that.

Tuesday we did a typical Ted and Judy. We got all dressed up, caught the number 7

Happy anniversary to us!

bus and rode downtown to Halifax’s best restaurant, Stories, for a late celebration of our anniversary. Afterwards, filled with delicious food and champagne, we caught the bus home.  

On Wednesday, the first really warm and sunny day, we took another bus across town to Point Pleasant Park, a wooded area on the south end of the city, with paths through the woods and around by the water. We discovered the ruins of forts, beach

Point Pleasant Park

picnic areas, more amazing views, and more dogs than I knew existed. Parts of the park are off-leash, and, while most of the dogs were well behaved, our picnic was interrupted by a dog-walker’s pack of ten dogs who were much more interested in our food than listening to the walker. Ah, well.

There is much in the media about Anthony Bourdain since his unfortunate death. One thing he said is that if you choose to travel, you must understand that there will be terrible times as well as good ones. He's probably right. We’ve only been at this for a year and a half, but so far, terrible is about as bad as ten unleashed dogs, running late for a plane connection, and noisy upstairs neighbors. Oh, yes--and missing Mexico City because of an earthquake. Here’s hoping that’s about as bad as it gets.