We left Toronto with heavy hearts—we had barely gotten to experience Canada and we were leaving without having eaten any poutine. Our melancholy, however, was tinged with excitement, we would soon be back in America, land of the Free, home of the aesthetically mediocre currency. As we drove over the bridge that connects Canada and Michigan we came to a stop at the border. The facilites at this particular point consisted of nearly a dozen lanes of traffic, each passing next to a guard who was presumably checking passports and allowing the cars to proceed thorugh to the states. A customs agent was directing traffic and Daci and I drove into our designated lane, eager to pass through the border.
After roughly 30 minutes of sitting in line I noticed that we had only moved about 2 car lengths—there was obviously a very serious holdup in the line—prehaps the customs agent had busted some drug smugglers or Canadian terrorists, intent on socializing our health care system, those heartless bastards. However, there was no altercation, no drugs, no bombs, no universal healthcare—the customs agent, as we would soon learn, was just taking his sweet time. This would not be a problem, however, the line next to us was moving at a rate much faster than us. For every 1 car that passed thorugh our line, the adjacent line moved at least 5 cars. Sticking my head out the window, I looked at the customs agent in the next line to see why his line was moving so fast. To my surprise the man was strangely reminiscent of Larry the Cable Guy—I half expected him to be wearing a sleeveless border patrol shirt. The man was literally looking—no, glancing—at the passports of the vehicles’ occupants and just waving them through to America. I assume the conversation went something like this (try to imagine a deep southern accent)
“y’all look ‘merican…just keep going, no—don’t even stop, just hold ‘dem passports up in the winda’.”
Or
“ it’s a’lright, y’alls got ‘merican plates, just keep it rollin’.”
Imagining what Larry the Border Patrolman was saying to these lucky few who got to speed through to the States kept me occupied for the HOUR AND A HALF that Daci and I waited in line. When we finally got to the station, we immediately realized why the line had taken so long. We had apparently been in the line of the United States’ most thorough border patrolman. Save for dismantling our car and my colon, the broderpatrol man asked every question he could muster. Some were standard and what I would consider appropriate, others were borderline offensive.
“Where are you coming from?”
“Where did you stay in Canada”
“What did you do in Canada”
“Did you have a good time?”
“How long were you there for?”
“What are you bringing back?”
“What is in that cooler?”
“Did anyone give you anything”
“Do you have any drugs?”
“Are you related to Steven Spielberg?”
All appropriate questions, but then they became odd…
In reference to the pillow daci had on her lap: “What is under that pillow, do you have a gun under there?”
Looking at my passport, where is says: PLACE OF BIRTH:JERUSALEM: “Were you born in this country?” (I’m glad to see the 14th amendment has been officially laid to rest. )
Looking at the piles of clothing in the back of the car: “What is all that clothing for”: we tried explain to him that we had been on the road for a month and had accumulated a serious amount of laundry, but he still insisted on looking through the window and I could see in his eyes that he desperately wanted to examine my underpants to ensure that I was not brining back any exotic birds.
After a few more ridiculous questions, he gave us one last look over, did another check of our passports in the exotic bird and “f’or'ner” database and welcomed us home. Of course, he only welcomed Daci home, I apparently, was an intruder, not a full fledged, voting and taxpaying citizen of the United States, entitled to all the rights and privileges which that entails—a foreign born intruder with a passport.
**Yes, it's true. Canadians say "eh". A lot. Yoni and I couldn't help but look at each other in touristy glee when, at our first meal in Canada, our waitress commented, "The food down by the falls sure is expensive, eh?".
Toronto is a big city not too much different than any other we've been to: a huge mix of restaurants, familiar stores, and people acting exactly as they did in New York, DC, Philadelphia or Boston, or even Baton Rouge. But for some reason, I still had a weird feeling that I was somewhere foreign -a good feeling, but a weird one. Maybe it was the unfamiliarity of seeing Canadian flags everywhere, or that every sign was in both English and French, or - like I said before - the abundance of delicious British candy in the convenience stores.
As we were driving in, Yoni and I realized that our knowledge of Canada, well, pretty much doesn't exist. Neither of us could come up with a prime minister, or any tid bits of knowledge about the country other than they really, really, really like hockey. Here's what we learned over our 3 nights in Toronto:
1. One of the only foods unique to Toronto is pountine, "a dish consisting of French fries topped with fresh cheese curds, covered with brown BBQ chicken gravy and sometimes other additional ingredients." Yum...?
2. They really like their Tim Horton's, Canada's answer to Dunkin Donuts and purveyor of mediocre bagels.
3. You can only buy beer in a place called "The Beer Store."
4. In an effort to increase recycling, the government is taxing apartment owners based on how much waste their tenants throw into regular trash.
5. Well educated residents can't tell you the name of the current prime minister (thus, we still weren't sure...luckily for us we have wikipedia)
6. A $1 coin is called a Looney, and a $2 coin is called a Tooney.
Why don't they know more?, you may be asking yourself. Why can't they tell me more about the types of government, or the major cities, or perhaps even the history of Canada? Surely they must have at least gone to a museum!
Oh, but we did,
This is the ROM, a few city blocks away from our hotel where we thought we might be able to maybe learn about where it is we were visiting. Turns out it was just another natural history museum, maybe the 4th of our trip. We speed-walked through the dinosaurs and stuffed animals we'd seen so many times before until finally we found what we were looking for: the exhibit about Canada....
...and its furniture. That's right. The one thing the Royal Ontario Museum chose to include about its country was the evolution of furniture throughout different regions. Clearly, we were very excited about this.
We eventually found an equally uninteresting exhibit with different types of furs worn by early Canadian settlers, but that was really about it. My verdict: we should have gone to the shoe museum down the street. (Really. There was a shoe museum.)
I don't want to be accused of being a negative Nancy again -- I actually really liked Toronto (I would live there over New York City any day). We stayed at a renovated mansion turned into a hotel and located perfectly between a pub and a frat house, so that at any given moment the air was either filled with the scent of fried food or pot. We were also across the street from a very fancy JCC -- and to Yoni's delight, at least 4 falafel stands.
On our way from Niagara Falls to Toronto, we stopped at a small town called Niagara-on-the-Lake for lunch. We only explored the main drag, which was cute and reminiscent of Europe... mainly because every store had an endless selection of Flake, Aero, Kinder and Cadbury candy bars [British candy] and every restaurant called itself a pub. We ate at a little hidden restaurant in the back of some store called the Irish Tea Room and sat on the lakeshore with what must be Canada's official way to prepare frozen yogurt (they're geniuses up there): you choose whatever fruit combination you want, they take the fruit and a frozen block of yogurt, put it in a machine, and voila - you have kiwi-strawberry-mango frozen yogurt. I may never go back to TCBY.
-Daci
I think Niagara Falls is almost as beautiful as Gatlinburg. What Niagara Falls is lacking in pancake houses, it makes up for in giant, neon lit signs and 24-hr cheesy music.
In all seriousness, of course the falls were nothing short of impressive and we actually had a great time. We stayed in the "budget room" of Niagara's longest running bed and breakfast, which was nicer than most of the "normal" hotel rooms we stayed in. (Except for the brief period of time where Yoni thought we had locked our passports in the safe forever) We also really liked the innkeeper and ended up interviewing her for Road Trip Nation -- I must say, I did not expect her to have such an interesting life.
Here's the thing about niagara falls: EVERYTHING costs money. You can't park your car within half a mile of the falls without paying less than $10. You have to pay just to walk behind the falls, or to walk along the white water trail, where the river suddenly narrows and all of the water has to rush through (hence the name). So we limited ourselves to just riding the Maid of the Mist, which I think was enough. Especially because, we didn't even need to bring a camera! When you go through the line, they stop everyone and take a picture of you in front of a green screen, and after the ride you have a perfect picture of yourself in front of Niagara Falls - almost as if you've actually been there!
(we managed to sneak past the green screen pictures... these are real, authentic niagara falls photogaphs)
When we were looking for somewhere to stop between Boston and Niagara Falls, our decision was pretty much based on the fact that Ithaca was the first town we saw when we zoomed in on our route on google maps. ‘Whatever,’ we said, tired of planning, ‘We can go see Cornell for 30 minutes and read our books in the hotel room for the rest of the night.’ Our hotel decision was made along those same lines – the first cheap hotel that came up on kayak.com.
Ithaca, New York is in the middle of nowhere. Well, Albany, Binghamton and Schenectady are relatively close but you have to travel at least an hour off the interstate to reach Ithaca. We weren’t exactly sure what we were getting ourselves into, especially when we pulled into our sketchy outside-door hotel. I think the man at the front desk noticed our “ew, are we really staying here?” faces and went into VISIT FABULOUS ITHACA mode, after upgrading our room from a standard (ie, sketchy outside-door) room to a deluxe (ie, slightly less sketchy inside door) room. His Ithaca spiel began with all of the amazing gorges, lakes and waterfalls and ended with rave reviews of the 26 dining options in the city, including the world famous Moosewood Restaurant (never heard of it), where we ended up eating.
He was right, it turns out. We actually ended up wishing we had spent more than one night in Ithaca (though perhaps not at the same hotel). Cornell’s campus is beautiful -- it sits on a hill overlooking the rest of the city and Cayuga Lake --and is surrounded by waterfalls and gorges. Guidebooks show people swimming at the base of waterfalls in state parks surrounding the city. And the world famous Moosewood Restaurant was really good – as were the omelets at the world famous omelet house where we had breakfast.
After checking in, we spent the rest of the afternoon driving around Cornell and exploring one of the gorges right off their campus.
Do you see that footbridge off in the distance in the third picture? The really high one? Yoni tried to get me to cross that. He did not suceed.
I think most impressive about the city was the incredible
number of shades that their signature t-shirt comes in. Bright red, faded red, bright orange, burnt
orange, brown, teal, dark teal, light teal… it took up an entire aisle in the
grocery store.
On our way out, we stopped at a state park with what I thought was a pretty impressive waterfall, until Yoni reminded me that we were on our way to Niagara Falls.
And, 3 and a half hours later, aided by Barak Obama's mezmerizing voice reading 'Dreams of My Father', we rolled into Canada
One of the days we were walking around Boston I began to feel ill, it might have has something to do with the 2 huge slices of pizza I had earlier. I decided to leave Daci and Dana in Boston and head back to the apartment for a nap. I hopped onto the Redline, sat down and prepared for an uneventful T ride back home. Little did I know that the events that would transpire in that subway car were some of the best entertainment I have had on this trip.
Allow me to set the scene. There are about 2 dozen people scattered throughout the car, including myself, some loners and a few families. I am sitting across from a 30-something woman (30SW) down from me on my right is a 20-something woman (20SW), and she is sitting across from a male who was an average subway subject, ASS.
***The redline comes to a pause on top of the Charles river bridge***
A young black male gets up from his seat with a boombox, and moved to the center of the car, right next to ASS. Setting the boombox at his feet, he says: Okay everyone! Get ready for the Amazing Dancing Black Guy (ADBG)!
As he moves to turn on the boombox ASS turns his head, and in the thickest Bostonion accent I have ever heard he yells:
ASS: SHAT THA FACK UP!
ADBG: I’m sorry?
ASS: SHAT THA FACK UP! MAKIN ALL THAT NOISE ON THA TRAIN! WHAT THA FACK ARE YOU DOIN?
ADBG: Sir, I’m just going to dance…
ASS: NO YA NOT, YA GOIN TO SHAT THE FUCK UP!
ADBG: Sir, I’m 15, why are you screaming at me?
ASS: SHAT THA FACK UP! YOU CAME AT ME! YOU ALL SAWS IT!
30SW: oh my gawd, are you drunk? Just let him dance
ASS: SHAT THA FACK UP ASSHOLE! HE CAME AT ME! ONCE WE GET OFF THIS CAHHHHH I’M GONNA SPLATTAH THAT FACK! HES GOING TO JAIL FOR LIFE ANYWAYS, WES ALL KNOWS IT!
30SW: Oh, you’re a racist, that’s it.
ASS: THAT’S YOUR OPNION
20SW: Just let him dance, stop swearing, there are kids on this train.
ASS: SHAT THE FACK UP DYKE! I DON’T GIVE A SHIT! I’M GONNA SPLATTER THAT FACK!
This went on for about the next 4 minutes until we got to the next station, nearly everyone got off except for a few of us. After the train started going again the guy looked at me and said
ASS: THAT’S BETTEAH, NICE QUITE FACKAHN TRAIN. NICE AND QUITE NOW!
We both got off at the same stop and he was still screaming, all the way up to street level.
What a great day.
Before I begin, I can hear my parents huffing and puffing over this post, saying that I am too negative, sensitive, cynical, hypochondriacish, and whatever other adjective they have in their arsenal when they disagree with what I say
We have been on this roadtrip for nearly 3 weeks now and I have come to realize that there are several things in this country that really annoy me. Some of these experiences are new, but I believe that one or two of them have been brewing below the surface for several years.
Part one: Kids at museums:
I really enjoy learning; it does not matter what it is, art, science, history—anything, I love getting new information. I am at the age where I am finally starting to appreciate museums not for what they contain, but for what I can leave with. Just on this trip I have learned a lot about America’s early postal system (did you know that although the pony express is often romanticized, it only lasted 18 months and was not very profitable?). I have seen beautiful works of art, including works by such artists as Rembrandt, Degas, Monet, Chagall, Van Gogh and the only Da Vinci in the New World. At the natural history museums Daci and I have learned about the origins of mammalian life, what lives in the deepest, darkest regions of the sea and that one of the foremost debates in modern paleontology is how stegosaurus stood—legs at a 90 degree angle to the ground, or splayed out? I love museums, so much information; it is difficult to process it all.
Aside from selling me a banana and a bottle of water for 5 dollars, the only problem I have with Museums are the children who attend them (before you start, I have not attended a single children’s museum in recent memory). Every museum I have been to, including the United States Postal Museum hase been completely overrun by children. Having once been a child myself (some would argue that by writing this, I still am) I know what kids are thinking at a museum, and it isn’t “what can I learn?”. When we visited the New Mexico Natural History Museum in Albuquerque, I vividly remembered, my favorite parts, they consisted of a laser light show, a visor which gave you insect vision, and a time travelling elevator. I, like many children, was not interested in learning anything; I spent most of the time running around, pushing adults out of the way and being a general nuisance. Apparently, nothing has changed. Well—I have—but children have not. The main problem is that 15 years ago, there were no bright LCD touch screens and interactive computer exhibits at the museums for me to play with. Today, a significant part of the information found in museums is presented on screens and computers. Having visited quite a few museums I have learned that children go ape shit for touch screens. It does not matter what is on the computer, it could be the Albanian agriculture museum, but there would still be a mucus covered child pounding away on the screen, pushing random buttons, not learning or caring that Albania’s main export are textiles and footwear.
Every museum I have been to, I have been shoved, kicked and sneezed on at the exhibits. At the Smithsonian Natural history museum I was about to look at a display about iridescent gems, when all of a sudden I literally got shoved out of the way by a 5 year old. I looked to his father for an apology and got a look that said “kids, what are you gonna do huh?” Feed them to the hissing cockroaches on the 3rd floor was one suggestion that came to mind. Later on there was a computer simulation about asteroid impacts and how they differ with speed, mass and atmosphere. It seemed like an interesting exhibit, but alas, a child was using it. No problem, I’ll just watch his simulations and still enjoy it. Aside from smearing the screen with snot, this kid did not do much else. He would randomly push buttons, and never run any simulations. Deciding to come back, I looked at the rest of the asteroid exhibit; 10 minutes later, he was still there, smearing his bodily fluids all over the screen. His father, trying to intervene, was attempting to pull him away, but the child would not give up—he was insistent on pushing buttons at random while simultaneously spreading his germs to others. I finally gave up on the simulation, and left. If an asteroid is ever heading to earth, and NASA asks me my opinion on the devastation of its impact, you can blame that child for my ignorance.
I wish I could say these were isolated incidences, but every museum we have been to I have been pushed out of the way, cut in line and generally inconvenienced by children—a surprising amount of them Israeli. I don’t mind when kids push me to see an exhibit so they can read about Incan culture or Grizzly bears. It’s when they squeeze in front of me, and just stand there, not reading not even looking at the exhibit. It’s almost as if their parents said: “Nadav, see that tired man over there? Go push in front of him, blocking the sign so he can’t read and if you make sure to do your best to irritate the living hell out of him we will buy you some hummus and fuzzy-bubbleh.”
I know I sound like an unfunny, cantankerous old man, and I recognize that. However, I am trying to enjoy what I believe to be a well deserved after-school vacation and it is being constantly sabotaged by children. Perhaps museums should follow suit and do as shopping malls have begun to do; ban children after a certain time so adults can enjoy themselves—or I could just learn to be patient.
I’m sure I have many happy years of being irritated by children to come; but when I have kids I’m sure I’ll find myself saying things like this:
“Daci, do we have any Kleenex for Yoni Jr., no? oh well that’s okay, just have him wipe it on the screen”
Or
“I hear they have some new interactive exhibits at the Estonian sports hall of fame, lets take Yoni Jr. and have him pound on the screens and annoy everyone.”
Or,
“Did my child just pee on you? Oh well, kids, what are you gonna do huh?”
...I just haven't seen it. We're taking a break from being tourists, and are living like grad students -- with my friend Dana, in her student apartment in Cambridge. We're sleeping on a futon. We're making potato salad and brownies, and grilling and eating on our laps. I couldn't tell you how to get to the Cheers bar and I think I might know where Paul Revere's grave is. It's a vacation from our vacation
Not that we've been doing nothing but sit around - we just had a meeting at Hahvahd (yes...they talk like that) Med with Dr. Jerome Groopman as part of our Road Trip Nation program. It was really interesting -- even for me, someone who isn't planning on becoming a physician, but I'll let Yoni talk more about that. We also watched Boston's 4th of July show (which, I recently learned, is A Huge Deal) and heard Rascal Flatts and the Boston Pops perform from the rooftop of a Brownstone on Beacon Street (apparently, prime real estate in Boston).
Dana's cousin Allison and Uncle Greg were also in town, so we spent a good bit of time with them. One popular tourist spot we all went to: the New England Aquarium, which has a really cool penguin exhibit, some new sharks (the ads around Boston have a picture of a fin sticking out of Boston Harbor with the word "SHAAAAHKS!") and a giant sea turtle named Myrtle. We also took a ferry out to one of the islands near boston where we explored an old fort and waded in the ice cold Atlantic.
We weren't the only ones who decided to go to Boston for the 4th -- my good friend from high school, Leila was in town and so were Yoni and I's friends from LSU (and now LSU Shreveport HSC) Anne and Andrew. After a million text messages trying to coordinate our schedule, Leila and I finally met up on her last night in town. We weren't able to schedule anything with Anne and Andrew... but while I was out with Leila, I literally ran into them on the street!
On the Boston food tour -- clam chowder, cannolis from Mike's Pastry, delicious Italian in the North End with Yoni's family friend Mark, and tonight: Wagamama, a popular noodle restaurant in Europe that my friend Katie and I LOVED in Amsterdam, which recently opened its first location in the U.S. in Boston.
After dinner, Yoni and I plan on walking around Fenway during the Red Sox game. We don't have tickets, but we've heard the atmosphere is something that can't be missed (no word on whether it beats an LSU game).
stay tuned for more from Boston, including Yoni's account of a fight on the T and our interview with the world's tallest doctor.
(and just to clear things up... I enjoyed Lancaster County...just not the buffet.
-Daci)
since most everything I know about New York comes from Carrie Bradshaw, I have to wonder: HOW does she stay so clean? How is her incredible shoe collection not covered in a layer of grime? How could she have walked outside in her Vivienne Westwood wedding gown knowing that the bottom would touch the ground? Why are there no scenes in Sex and the City of the girls passing around a bottle of Purel before their weekly brunch?? Don't get me wrong, the city is amazing, but dirty, and the evidence is on the bottom of my feet.
Our intentions were to go on the same kind of whirlwind sightseeing tour as we did in D.C., but I think we failed. For one, we didn't see the city after dark at all. We also didn't go to the Met or Guggenheim (we were art museum-ed out) or go to the top of the Empire State Building, or see a Broadway show. We also didn't do as much shopping as we (I) could have, but all this means is that we'll have to go back as soon as we can.
We did see:
the museum of Natural History:
the MoMA
one of the coolest things at the Moma was the sepia room (seen in the picture above). A yellow light erased all the color from the room so everything looked like it was in black and white. The picture doesn't really capture it. (PS, Doesn't Yoni look like some kind of action movie hero in the center picture? )
the Statue of Liberty/Ellis Island:
Can you see what Yoni's standing on in the above picture? Wood. Slats of wood, hundreds of feet in the air, shaking with every step, far enough apart that you can see the East River through the cracks. Most horrifying thing ever.
And of course, the most important part of our trip: eating. Other than eating more Israeli food than I did in Israel (seriously), we had some pretty good meals -- including Yoni's First Pinkberry and Yoni's First Crepe.
1. pistachio macaron (smushed, but delicious) // 2. crepe from the creperie, run by Israelis -- strawberry, banana, nutella, ice cream and whipped cream // 3. our Israeli dinner at 12 Chairs in Greenwich village: cous cous, Israeli salad, and schnitzel (which was nothing compared to Yoni's mom's!) // 4. what better than matzah ball soup on a rainy day? // 5. the famous Magnolia Bakery -- ok cupcakes, amazing banana pudding // 6. lunch with Yoni's friend Jonathan at Grimaldi's pizza in Brooklyn (a 30 minute line outside.. it must be good). // 7. We didn't eat here, but I had to take a picture -- kosher Subway? Really?!
We might have done more in the city, if we didn't have to keep stopping for this:
And now, for the final segment of this particular blog entry: Encounters With Rude New Yorkers. We'll be back with more from Boston, I'm sure.
1. the scene: TKTS booth at Times Square. Yoni wants to ask about prices for Spamalot, a musical. The only empty line has a huge sign above it reading "PLAYS ONLY."
TKTS worker: empty line over here! please move over here!
Yoni: which line for musicals?
TKTS worker: THIS LINE! I AM SPEAKING IN PLAIN ENGLISH, JUST GET IN THIS LINE! WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!
me: um, the line says "plays only". It's a little confusing.
TKTS worker (glances at sign): Oh. Ignore that. (walks off)
2. the scene: the entrance to central park
4 Millionth Person to Ask if I Want to Buy a Tour of Central Park: Horse drawn tours of the park! Take a seat and save your feet!
4MPAIWBTCP (yelling): Thanks for acknowledging my existence!
3. the scene: Penn Station. A 20-something male rolls over Yoni's foot and almost knocks him over with his huge suitcase and continues walking
Me: Oh, no problem, we're fine back here!
the guy: [raises middle finger over his shoulder]
4. the scene: everywhere. people really like to push, elbow, shove, kick, etc in new york.
Recent Comments
-
xtiana said:
[this is good]Haha I can't stand those children like that, but what really pisses me off is that those kids are that... read more
on A few of my unfavorite things. -
M'Lissa Peters said:
[this is good]Dear Yoni, I'm so thrilled to see y'all! What a fantastic experience for you both. We need to all get... read more
on easter island head -
xtiana said:
You look so cute! And skinny! I hate you! But visit me in Chicago after I've lived there for a... read more
on daci rowing -
steve and amy said:
haha yes, the perfect way to describe it!! it was so gross read more
on Gatlinburg
on How ah yah?