Winnipegagain

The day started like most of my days this vacation. Up early to eat a hearty breakfast and then set sail for what adventure awaits. I drove down to Altona to see the World's Largest Painting on an Easel. What I saw instead was what I assume to be the world's largest easel. That's right, the painting was gone, probably taken by the world's largest thief.

After that disappointment I went to the Canadian Mint. The Mint provides all the excitement of watching, from a distance and behind glass, machines stamp coins and workers package them. A very entertaining minute and a half.

The Museum of Human Rights more than made up for the previous disappointments. It's housed in a beautiful building with zig zagging ramps that lead you through seven floors of exhibits. From the seventh floor a sign points you toward a spiral staircase up to the tower which provides a view of all of Winnipeg. If you're not an idiot though you'll want to take the elevator. I'm on vacation, not at the international stair climbers championship.

Topped off the day with dinner at Shawarma Khan - Can you say delicious? We Khan. (Note: Shawarma Khan, if you would like to use that tag line please contact my agent to work out the details.) The guys there were very friendly and because they were about to close eager to get rid of all their remaining food. Somehow they talked me into taking some of the most wretched of offerings, beet salad. I know what you're thinking, but beets are so healthy. You know what else is healthy? Keeping your mouth shut when I get started on one of my beet rants.

All in all not a bad day.

Winnipeg

Other than getting a photo of the hitchhiking Bigfoot in Vermilion Bay not a lot of excitement on this leg of the journey. 

Many people warned me that Winnipeg was a crime infested den of meth heads and lost dreams. I'm sorry to report that it is not. I've spent three days on the road looking for meth and have nothing to show for it. 

Archie and I are not in agreement on what the best road trip music is. I prefer something with a fast, catchy beat. Archie likes a more somber style like the soundtrack to Schindler's List. This is great if you're planning to drive your car off a cliff. 

"Hey, how about, Walking on Sunshine?"

"We could listen to that, or, what if we listen to Immolation (With our Lives, We Give Life). It's played during the scene in the movie where it looks at first like children are playing in snow and we later come to realize it's actually the ashes of 10,000 Jews that were incinerated."

"Meet in the middle - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"

Lord Thunderin Bay

First stop today was to see the Wawa Goose. this is actually the third goose. The first goose was made  of plaster and chicken wire and erected in 1960. That goose lasted about 3 years; which is just about 3 years longer than a gigantic goose made out of plaster and chicken wire should last outside in a Canadian winter. The second goose was erected in 1963 and lasted until 2017 when it was replaced on Canada Day (Wawa Gets a New Goose). After mentioning in the article that the new goose is essentially a clone of the old goose, someone from the administrative office still went on to say

"We're hoping that they're going to be able to put most of it together under the parachute so that we don't ruin the big reveal."

I've got bad news for you buddy, the big reveal was ruined in 1963.

Next stop was White River, birthplace of, and sole reason to visit, Winnie the Pooh. After taking a photo with the Pooh statue we headed to the tourist office.

"What's the number one thing to see in White River" I asked.
"Probably Winnie the Pooh"
"Just did that, what's the second best thing?"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh - maybe the museum...but it's closed this weekend." "Okay, do you have somewhere I can fill up my water bottle?"
"Uh, our water is undrinkable."

And sure enough, there were large warning signs over every tap. Thank you White River.

I jumped the gun on the roadside signs breakdown yesterday. From Toronto to Sault Ste Marie I stand by my ratios but from the Soo to Thunder Bay it's a different world. I had the pleasure of learning about Domenic "Hollywood" Filange Figliomeni. Domenic was an amateur boxer with a dream - "Whether you were a corporation looking to mass produce logo'd apparel, or an aspiring boxer wanting to put your fighting name on your tracksuit, he would serve everyone with little hassle and fair price." Domenic can't guarantee a hassle-free experience. You have to have a little hassle. 


I also learned about Minnow Trap 2 from best selling author Brian Horeck. I'm not entirely sure of the scope of his best selling credentials. Is it Canada, Ontario or just his living room?

Based on the Amazon plot synopsis
"Ten years have passed since a tight knit group of Northern Ontario cottagers faced a horrifying encounter with extraterrestrials. They now find themselves collaborating with a different alien species in an effort to stop global warming. Things get interesting when it’s discovered that one of their own possesses supernatural powers from Alien DNA."

Sounds wonderful. For me, if one of their own didn't get supernatural powers from alien DNA it would just be another one of your boilerplate, collaborate with extraterrestrials in order to stop global warming stories. Pretty much writes itself.

Cross Canada (sort of) - Sault Ste Marie

Let's set the scene. I, along with my travelling partner Archie (not her real name) will take the next two weeks or so to drive to Jasper, Alberta and camp for three days before I, sans Archie, drive back to Toronto. Who cares you say. Lots of people have done that and have done it better than you could ever dream of doing it. First of all, what's with the attitude, I thought we were having a fun chat here. Second, go read their blog then.

Our first stop along the way was Sudbury to see the Big Nickel. It was big, it was shiny, it cost six freaking dollars just to park in the lot. Another $21.00 to do the tour of the mine. At that rate, it's going to cost $120.00 to park and see the giant Loonie.

I've noticed one thing during the drive so far. 98% of roadside signs are advertisements for roadside signs. The other 2% are either "Jesus Says Don't Text and Drive" or somebody named Sandy's Gift, Jewellery and Fudge Emporium.

My favourite thing that I've seen is a guy with a table covered in knives and a hand scrawled sign that read KNIVES. This guy looked like he just scrambled out of the woods after a 10 hour battle royale, grabbed the clothes off a scarecrow and set up shop. The sign may as well have read MURDER.

China - The Food

I have lost a couple of pounds while in China on my new see food diet. If I see food that can see me, I don't eat it. I wasn't sure why the fish I was enjoying was staring at me until Jing asked if I ever ate the head. Well, I nearly spit out my fried gluten ball in amazement. I may have experimented a little bit in college, but no, I've never "eaten the head." Then it hit me that she was talking about the fish. This was too much; I couldn't even finish my Caterpillar Fungus Duck. She said it was delicious. I will take her word for it.

I have eaten many things in China that I didn't think I ever would, like duck blood or vegetables (I prefer the duck blood).

I'm also pretty sure they're just testing me with a lot of things to see if I'll actually eat it. One time during lunch Jing's father gave me a clove of raw garlic. I love garlic when it's cooked but to eat a raw clove felt like I was pledging a fraternity. I ate it cautiously while looking around for a blindfold and a paddle.

In a separate incident I was served a bowl of fish, each fish was about four inches in length (with head and tail intact of course). Biting into one of these fish was like trying to chew your way through a spiderweb of bones. The bones were soft enough to break while biting down on them but sharp enough to pierce your soft palate and gums. I think for every ten pounds of fish you get one ounce of meat.  

In truth, much of the food is delicious but I still have moments of weakness when I need to get something greasy and meaty. 

There are two Western fast food chains in abundance in China; McDonalds and KFC. I understand McDonalds but was surprised by KFC. Then it hit me that it may stand for Kentucky Fried Cat. This would be a genius move by KFC. Kentucky Fried Camel, Kentucky Fried Chimpanzee, Kentucky Fried Cobra are all viable options now.

I did try McDonald's one time and was sorrily disappointed. I ordered a burger, fries, a coke and a sundae. Nothing elaborate; I wasn't trying to go rogue and order a McRib. The sundae machine was broken so I asked for a milkshake instead of a coke. The shake machine was broken too. That's fine, as long as I get those golden delicious french fries that are adored the world over. What's that, no fries, but I can substitute corn. I'm not proud of what I did upon hearing that news but my lawyer thinks he can work a plea bargain for just under 10 years hard labour.

China

At the beginning of September I flew into Zhengzhou, China. I'll be staying here for three months and as it's not a tourist city I won't be regaling you daily with tales of adventure. I do intend to write some entries on my life in China in general and specific events if they happen. 

Your first question may naturally be, why Zhengzhou and why for three long months. I can only say that  there is a woman involved and quite possibly some voodoo, which would explain all the chicken blood. So much chicken blood.

As I mentioned, Zhengzhou is not a tourist town. I think the population breakdown is 99.999999% Chinese and then me. Nobody I've encountered thus far speaks more than a few words of English. This leads to me doing a lot of pointing and pantomiming. I've stopped rubbing my belly to indicate hunger though as my Buddhaesque frame leads people to think I'm giving them good fortune.

The thing I like most about Zhengzhou so far, other than the aforementioned woman of course, is Starbucks. It's almost completely empty and has comfortable chairs and free wifi. On the occasions that they play a western song I can even imagine that I'm home.

Why I Don’t Have a Tattoo

I don’t think anybody has ever asked me why I don’t have a tattoo; that may be because I spend most of my days barricaded inside a self-made shelter that can only be described as part fortress, part homage to Bollywood. Or, it may be because, after having spoken to me once, the majority of people decide never to do so again. That being said, I thought, what better topic for a blog post than something that nobody has ever expressed interest in?

The reason I don’t have a tattoo can best be illustrated via a story. When I was in high school, I loved the band Twisted Sister. I don’t mean that I merely found their music enjoyable, I thought they were the best band ever (yes, even better than Warrant and Stryper). Their album “Stay Hungry” was not only the soundtrack to my lonely high school years but also became my life philosophy, leading, ultimately to a considerable weight problem. Perhaps a healthier album title would have been “Don’t You Think You’ve Had Enough Pie?”

In order to show my devotion to these rock gods I paid a friend to paint the “Stay Hungry” album cover on the back of my jean jacket. He did a stellar job and I proudly wore that jacket around until I could no longer take the twice daily beatings I received from the significantly younger, jealous kids. I ended up giving the jacket to Goodwill and in my heart know that some young Guatemalan refugee is currently getting the snot kicked out of him. Circle of life my friends. Circle of life.

I have more than enough naturally (according to several well respected veterinarians) occurring things on my body to be embarrassed about that I don’t need to add more. A full back picture of Dee Snider gnawing on a bloody thigh bone may be nice for some* people but I’m lucky that a group of good Samaritans was able to drag me out of the tattoo parlour and give me a good ass-whooping before I could go through with it.

*I'm using 'some' here of course to mean 'no.'