An Enchanted Land: North America’s North-Atlantic Coast

As much as many people think Canada and the US are sisters, as much as untraveled people think we might be oh, so alike, there is a distinct difference between these countries. Looking over the pictures you snap as you drive over the border to visit our neighbor to the North, you realize immediately where the border was crossed, even if you don’t even take one picture of the border patrol officer’s booth. 

This picture taken in St. Andrew by the Sea, in New Brunswick summarizes exactly what I was after on this trip: a quiet, sleepy fishing town on the Atlantic with a view of the bay.

There is a shift in architecture between a US settlement and a Canadian one. A change of rhythm in the way seconds are counted, in the way people swag. I cannot quite put my finger on it, but once you see it, you get it. 

This was my first trip to Maine and New Brunswick. I always thought the East Coast is where both our land densities are. Small towns, strung together like a clutter of pearls, one after another, close-knit communities that flow into one another; a passer-by unable to tell when one establishment ends and the other one begins. 

But that density was lost on me on the drive from Bangor, ME to Saint John, NB. For miles and miles, all you cross are wooded and water lands. More mountains than you’d think it’s appropriate for a coastal state or province of The East, and way too many “Beware of moose crossing” signs than you ever think would be needed. As a matter of fact, in a week in these parts we saw exactly zero moose. But nonetheless, the promise is that of land and wildlife, and not of humans. 

How you know you're in Canada ...

Maine and New Brunswick are relatively scarcely populated, green states. And I mean green in the literal sense of the word. Rolling hills (or baby mountains), lakes and many rivers that cut through their bones like deep whip marks into young flesh. In July, the air is liquid and yellow, thick with bugs, mosquitoes, butter- and dragonflies; dry and melty warm like warmed up maple syrup. You think stopping the car by a river or the ocean will be breezy and fresh, and maybe it is, but not in July. In July it’s exhaustingly hot. 

The landscape is about the only thing that’s very similar between the two countries in this area. The houses are distinctively different, simply put: Americans care less about the curb appeal; junk cars and used up, beat up farm equipment are left to rot in unmowed front yards. Canadian houses have clean, clutter-free yards with manicured lawns, even in the deep country. 

There is a noisy kitsch aspect of a small American town. There is a quiet, coquette distinctiveness of a Canadian one. 

American vs Canadian home along the highway

In Maine, people are direct and to the point; spend little time on niceties. When you mention you’re not from town, they give you prompt directions and you can sense their sigh in the back of their voice as in “oh, another ignorant outta towner”. Not quite rude, but not sugary sweet nor quite welcoming either. 

Canadians don patient smiles and greet everyone with “Hello. Bonjour.” Without even telling them where you’re from, they notice your license plate and come waving from across the parking lot with “Oh, goodness! I love Maine! How long are you guys staying here?” They ask you questions about America, your trip, your plans and give you unsolicited directions of where they think you should be spending your time. It’s like the long cold winter has gotten them snowed in for so long, they are happy to see another human and happy to reconnect to the world. Americans act as if summertime is a bothersome interruption of their quiet time and are uneasy to be awoken by random drifters looking for a lobster joint. 

For years I thought the best seafood on the American continent was in Massachusetts - Boston and Cape Cod, specifically. But Maine, New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island (PEI, as commonly known) have gotten Boston beat! And no, not just the lobster. All of it - clams and any manner of fish too. 

Maine lobster in Brewer, ME

These parts belong to nature first, and man second - and this is what loudly spoke to me. Maine’s Acadia National Park - an amazing juxtaposition of ocean and sea - is something you expect to see more fittingly in California, as the Sierras slide down into the Pacific, rather than on the East Coast. New Brunswick has the Bay of Fundy, with the world’s highest tides that carve amazing rock formations, slice them off the mainland, and leave them sprinkled on the beaches like a string of Greek vestiges. 

The noisy Atlantic washing the rocky cliffs of Acadia National Park in Maine

There is no metropolis to disturb the small-town feel of places like Bangor, ME, Saint John, Fredericton or Moncton, NB. Even the capital city of Charlottetown in PEI is a lazy settlement, with beautiful old architecture, wide streets that have not yet been narrowed by overdevelopment, streets so quiet and people so calm that I am sure no one knows what a car horn sounds like. Or a police, ambulance, or firetruck siren. 

Crossing Confederation Bridge between NB and PEI - at 8 miles long, it is the world's longest bridge over frozen waters (when the waters are frozen. Not in July)

These are places where battles were once fought, mostly for territory, others for principles only - who gets to keep what piece of land that was not theirs to begin with. But the noise of battles once fought has long been quieted and what you see today is a new world, built from dreams of exiled people who lived to tell the tales. 

Originally, I planned for all of us (my sister and I and our family) to rent a house with a view of the ocean in a small fishing town on the Atlantic Coast, up there, in The North. But we ended up settling for a house in-land on the Richibucto river - in the small community by the same name- a name drawn from the Mi'kmaq word that means either “River of fire” or “River that enters the woods”. The Richibucto is a tidal river, and we passed our time sitting on our backyard dock telling the time of the day by the height of the river benches. The kids knew to drive to the ocean at high tide, when the fishing is plenty. 

There is a health and a peace that heals you when you tune into the rhythms of nature and you block out the modern appliances that tell you the time or the weather. Just watch, and listen, and feel the time passing, read the clouds to learn about the weather gathering up its forces for a quick rain or revealing the sun so close to Earth that it’s melting the air away in the July scorch. 

Plans don’t work out as you dream them up to begin with most times (we meant to put our home base in Maine, somewhere on the ocean, but it ended up being in New Brunswick, off the beaten path, on a river), and the unexpected nature of what they end up being is usually the best, because their mere surprise adds to their memorability. 

Our Richibucto homebase proved to be quite the perfect place for a quiet and peaceful retreat that had the added bonus of being close to everything that the area had to offer: the magic of the tidal bore in Moncton, where when the ocean tide moves inland and the Petitcodiac river looks as if it’s flowing backwards, east to west; the majestic Hopewell Rocks - carved minutely by the biggest tides in the world; a not-so-long day trip to PEI with the Anne’s House of the Green Gables and the birthplace of the Canadian Confederation, Charlottetown. The charming fishing town of Bouctouche, with its rich Acadian history and home of writer Antonine Maillet - author of La Sagouine (The Washerwoman), a book that tells the story of this resilient community and its character through a harsh history, is only a few minutes away. 

Hopewell Rocks in Fundy National Park - New Brunswick

Lucy Maude Montgomery's home, aka the House of the Green Gables - Prince Edward Island

The amazing, strange, unique experience of the Akadi Lumina light and music show in Bouctouche transports you to a fairy tale land that walks you through the history and tradition of the Acadians. In the wraps of night, when the deep, meaningful spirits come to life, you walk through the woods illuminated only by lights purposefully placed to tell a story and induce awe and a sense of magic. It’s a unique experience, not quite scary, but more awe-inspiring than anything else. The scenery is completed by the beat of traditional music. A show that would probably never happen in America - the unevenness of the terrain, and the tricky, occasional inaccessibility for even able-bodied folks would be a lawsuit waiting to happen. 

Think a Lynch movie, punctuated by loud, vibrant, Acadian music (which blends French-language vocal traditions with Celtic, Scottish, and Irish fiddle tunes), in the middle of the woods at night, with only occasional lighting that comes on and off in the rhythms told by the story of the journey itself. 

Everyone is asking us if we had a reprieve from the heat of the lower American states, forgetting that it is Canada that is presently burning from the wildfires of the summer. It was hot. Too hot for anyone, anywhere, but especially too hot for “The True North” as Canada deems itself. 

Restaurants either don’t have or don’t believe in using air conditioning. One of my nephews shared that “we’re Canadian, Alina. Our cold months are so long, we welcome the heat.” I s'pose I see the point. 

Mosquitoes were a different story. Greedy and mean, they were relentless. There was no amount of OFF! spray that could keep us truly safe from their ravenous appetites. 

As I look back to our trip and let the slideshow of memories scroll in my head, the images come and fade away before my mind’s eyes: the lush gardens of  Bouctouche, walks on the beach with my sister, walks downtown Moncton, alongside the Petitcodiac river, street dinners with the freshest seafood on the planet, bald eagles swiftly gliding above our heads as we sit lazily in bright red Adirondack chairs watching the river go by, at our cabin, the crystal-clear bells (polished and finished in a Charleston, SC bell foundry) striking the third hour at The Dunstan’s Basilica, stirring for just a brief moment the sleepy town of Charlottetown on PEI, kind Canadian people that bend over backwards (from our cabin’s hosts to every wait staff in every restaurant to shop attendants in every shop), the angry Atlantic waves washing off the shores of the Acadian National park, the sweet taste of melt-in-your mouth. 

Bouctouche, NB - The gardens at the Arboretum

Dunstan's Basilica in Charlottetown, PE

Our backyard on the Richibucto River, NB

A purple carpet - New Brunswick and PEI were in full lupin season. It was a feast for the eyes - here, in St. John, NB

Time might put a blurry mist on the memories as it passes, but once I will intentionally lift off the blanket of time, these images will always be there for me to go back to and relive - a short but meaningful summer break with my family, when America  turned 250 and Canada turned 159 in the same week and we discovered together a land mostly unturned. 

"River of fire": Sunset from our back porch on the Richibucto River. A view for a lifetime.

24 Rainy Hours in Winston Salem

This has become somewhat of a tradition - we pick a place, mostly in warmer months - and try to fill 24 hours with something to do there. It’s usually close to home, somewhere where we could easily just go for the day, but we allow it more time, on purpose, so as not to be rushed and to give it some space. When you’re not rushed by a schedule you can take as little or as much time as you need to really savor a place, a food, an experience. 

Great message for a 24-hour getaway motto

This weekend the destination was Winston Salem, one of the three cities that make up the Southern North Carolina metropolitan region known as The Triad. I lived in another major city of the same area called Greensboro for 12 years. Winston Salem was always “too far” to really go explore, although it was closer to Greensboro then than it is to my home now, that I moved 50 miles East (in the opposite direction) from Greensboro. 

But browsing through a book a former coworker from The Greensboro News & Record wrote about Winston Salem (or “Winston” for short)  documenting the 100 Things to Do in Winston Salem Before You Die, we found the inspiration to make this city the 24 hour adventure this year. 

The city was clothed in fog and a dense and settled-in rain. It's the time of the year when streets are rich with blooms, from wild flowers and day lillies, to azaleas and every single magnolia tree are all in bloom.

We started at the historic Reynolda House, a renowned country estate that was founded by the tobacco tycoon R.J.Reynolds and his wife, Katherine, around 1926. The house is currently closed for renovations but the adjacent art museum is open. It was one of the most interesting museums I have ever visited, and a testament that you can find meaning and art and inspiration anywhere, not just in the most famous places. The interpretative and “layered looking” approach inspires as well as educates the visitor on how to look at art and how to find deeper meaning. Some pieces like Charles Burchfield’s The Woodpecker, Nam June Palk’s Leonardo Da Vinci or Louise Nevelson’s Full Moon will haunt me for a while. Long after I will have forgotten the artists’ names.  The history of the Reynolda House is also incredibly well-put together, giving it an easy to understand but complete account of the Reynolds family, pioneers in an industry but also inspirations in how they treated their people. 

The Reynolda House Museum and grounds

 

The Woodpecker, Leonardo da Vinci and Full moon (these shots do not do these pieces justice)

We drove around Reynolda Village, the former quarters of their staff and utility buildings, and now a lively shopping and restaurant district. The rain was thick when we left the museum so the streets were empty and the people from the few cars parked in the many parking lots around the property were indoors, sipping hot coffees and browsing books at The Bookstore. We also visited the Reynolda Conservatory which was a neatly put together greenhouse with exotic and native plants.

Inside the Reynolda Conservatory

To get a break from the total downpour outside, we made a lingering stop at The Penny Path Cafe & Crepe Shop (there is a real path made of pennies inside). This was easily the highlight of the trip for me. They accommodated my vegan needs and everything we had, from the decaf latte to the vegan and berry or the nutella crepes was simply delicious. An army of what looked like college kids ran the place and I felt like we have not gotten service as good as that in a really long time. 

The Reynolda Village Cafe & Crepe Shop

Sit at the bar for a full experience

The vintage decor and penny path at The Crepe Cafe

We tried to visit their next-door neighbor, The Graylyn Estate next, but they seemed to be closed for a private wedding. The grounds were even more impressive than The Reynolda House, so we promised to be back. 

The Graylyn Estate House and entrance

We then headed downtown, closer to our hotel. We stopped at the Milton Rhodes Center for Arts, a multi-purpose cultural campus for Winston Salem Arts. We only had 30 minutes before they closed, so we had to move fast, but it was enough time to love the originality and creativity of the arts made by the students of the Sawtooth School, an on-site art school. I was shocked at the versatility and imagination and creativity of these students who, allegedly, were just starting out on their art journeys. The building is an old former Hanes hosiery mill built in 1910 joined to an adjoining, vacated AC Delco auto-repair garage. I personally love when we humans learn to repurpose what is already here, rather than tear it down and build some other new thing which feels wasteful. 

The lobby at Milton Rhodes Center for the Arts

We then checked into our hotel, The Cardinal, a Kimpton Hotel. Having stayed at Kimpton Hotels before, we love their preference to make historic buildings a showpiece in a cozy and welcoming atmosphere. Their welcome cocktails and good-bye coffee bars seem to be their signature and it adds a familiar, welcoming gesture to the whole experience. 

The Cardinal Hotel in the former R.J. Reynolds office building

Elevators inside The Cardinal hotel

We had dinner  a couple of blocks up the street at Jeffrey Adams On Fourth, a modern American restaurant that prides itself for bringing the local ingredients to an upscale plate. I wish I could say go and try their blackberry bbq salmon dish which was outstanding, but it was the special that night so that might not be available all the time. 

The salmon special at Jeffrey Adams on Fourth: grilled salmon, blackberry bbq glaze, asparagus, mashed potatoes, scallops and pickled collards garnish

We had after-dinner cocktails at our own hotel bar which was hopping with guests and very lively for a Saturday night.

The next day, we started with breakfast at The Katherine, the French restaurant at our hotel. The Cardinal Continental breakfast of croissant, fresh fruit and apricot preserves was light and refreshing.

The Cardinal Continental at The Katherine

We noticed a break in the rainy weather which was originally forecasted throughout the weekend, so we made plans to venture out on more outdoorsy landmarks. We stopped briefly to take some shots at the Mickey Coffee Pot - a 7 ft, 11,840 gallon capacity tin coffee pot on Brookstown Avenue. It is said that the Mickey brothers, Julius and Samuel, built it in 1858 to promote their tin business at the time.

The Mickey Coffee Pot

Afterwards, we drove a ways to The Grant Park Quarry. Vulcan Materials Company mined rock out of the quarry for the first half of the 20th century and after the big hole filled up with ground water, they donated the area to the City of Winston Salem. The tall rocky walls around the almost perfectly round lake create a majestic and dramatic drop.  It is now a peaceful retreat where you can take in the lake and its birds, while admiring, on clear days, the city skyline, far away in the horizon. 

Panoramic view of the Quarry lake at Grant Park

The locks of love flank both sides of the railings on the observation deck above the Quarry lake

We made our way back to Downtown to stop for a short while at the Bookmarks bookstore - one of the more interesting indie, independent bookstores I have seen in a while. And after that, we stopped at Foothills Brewery next door for a small snack - some fried pickles (the garlic ranch dipping sauce is incredible!) and to taste a sampling flight of their beers. I have never absolutely loved all beers in a flight in any other brewery I have visited before. But I did at The Foothills! The pours were generous and I did not finish all of the samples, as otherwise, I would have needed a bed to sober up before heading back on the road and as great as they were, they did not provide accommodation. 

The Bookmarks bookstore, off of a back alley - like a well-kept secret

The getaway was a nice stop in our otherwise hectic life of moving from one to-do item to the next. My favorite stop was the Crepe Shop in Reynolda Village, and my husband’s was the Reynolda art museum. But all the stops were unique highlights in a packed 24 hour visit. 

The book that started it all...

We promised ourselves to be back. We want to dive more into the architecture of the city - from what we easily saw it was diverse and full of history, a nice display of various styles that reflect the rich past dating as far back as the birth of this nation, visit both Reynolda and Graylyn houses, and take in more of the cuisine of which we only sampled briefly this time around, but which did not disappoint.

I read about people dreaming of going some place and laying out by the pool, looking at the ocean while some tanned pool boy supplies the drinks to get away and relax, but I know I am not one of those people. I love to see, to learn, to experience and to find beauty, culture, or just another way of looking at the world on my trips. As long as health, time, and money will allow me, I will take to the road in search for the next lesson. Because that is all that these getaways are - lessons on life, people-ness, history, art, and everything that connects them. 

From Innocence to Now ...

My dear boy, 

I still remember the blog I wrote the day you were born, the day I became an aunt (https://wander-world.blogspot.com/2008/04/from-heart.html). I wrote it almost in one breath, that very day. I did not prepare for it, I did not dream about what I would write, I just did it. All my love, and awe, and wonder, and gratitude, and fears, they just came right out and poured onto the page. You were an empty page, but so full of possibilities. 

In contrast, I have been thinking long and hard about what I would say for your 18th (holy cow!) birthday - whether to you, or in a blog, or journal entry. Now, 18 years later, you are so far from the blank page you started on. You are becoming quite an accomplished little story. 

Some of the things I want to say are the usual, retrospective things, like the obvious: you have grown much, accomplished much, matured, changed, and found yourself in the process, through kicking, screaming, good times, and bad. You know the story. 

It is truly a daunting realization that you have pretty much grown up on this blog. From the moment you were born till now, you have been documented religiously somewhere on the internet, including here. It’s amazing to see how something as novel (to me, at the time I started writing here) as a blog has now lasted more than you’ve been alive. 

We each have and are a unique story. Just like the river carves its own way from the mountain to the ocean, you have carved your own singular path. Sometimes despite our wishes, sometimes in total outbursts of surprises on your part, sometimes totally guided by those around you, but always in your own original way, you have been able to find yourself and mold yourself into the young man you are today. 

Because this is such a milestone, the beginning of your adulthood, in fact, I have also been wondering how we are leaving this world to you. I’ll be honest, when I first look at the world we’re leaving behind for you, I find that we’ve let you down, in too many ways to count.

With a maturity beyond your years, you pointed that very thing out to us a year or so ago: we have left you a mess, at first glance, indeed, as you said.  Wars, and crooked politicians in every realm and in virtually every country, desperation about job cuts and losses, the need for education not a very well-argued asset (when the world seems to be measured in money, and  most rich people of the world are college drop-outs, what can you learn from that?!), a dirtier, more unsafe planet than what we found when we were your age, and so much more decrepitude ... 

But as you’ll find out on your own: where there is bad, there is also plenty of good. Our generation, I think, also did leave behind plenty of good too, things that I hope your generation will build upon, perfect and increase in value. 

We left you the most technological advancements ever produced in 50 years’ time, in the history of humanity; because of this technology, you can now learn things faster, travel faster, buy what you want faster, see your impact to anything you contribute to faster, and so on. 

We’ve left you the ability to express yourself for who you are; when we were growing up, we were not allowed to be who we were, we were censured and punished for our thoughts - you, luckily, know nothing of that. Identity awareness is something our generation fought hard for and you, I think, benefit from it largely - never take that for granted. Identity awareness and recognition is by no means done, either, but I believe it’s here to stay now, if your generation makes sure of that. 

Despite all the talk of divisiveness due to social media which was also ours to claim, we’ve left you a more connected world than ever - globalization (not necessarily a bad word) shows that no single action remains where it started and it now reverberates across the world. As you find yourself in the middle of an international family, you understand this better than anyone: we’re all connected, across the meridians and every action we take has effects everywhere in the world. This awareness has become common knowledge during my lifetime and we leave it with you to build only good things on it. 

We left you with many examples of entrepreneurship that allow you to dream and use the best of your skills to truly accomplish anything. You’re limited only by your imagination, and that, in your case, is limitless. Our generation busted the limitations of a degree and of traditional careers to encourage every person to succeed and survive from any business they dream up. We have been disruptors, in larger numbers than any time perhaps in history, and for what that’s worth this allows you to always think outside the patterns. 

Maybe we didn’t finish what we started in any of these areas. But the seeds of good potential are there. 

So, as much as I apologize for the mess we’re leaving, I am also hoping that the much good that we have also done is workable, and you can add to it and make it better. Make it perfect. I trust that you will at least try. 

As a family, we have given you everything - love, support, understanding, freedom to be who you are, and a healthy dose of cynicism which we hope prepares you for a prickly world out there. We hope. We tried to encourage more than scold, love more than accuse, and advise more than order you around. We showed you by example where your roots are and how you ended up who you are, but we were careful not to clip your wings, for they alone will carry you forward in the path you alone will choose. We hope we did good by you and that you find balance between all that we all contributed with and what you want. 

I am also remembering on this special day how hard it has been for you to find yourself and be the amazing human you are today despite all the odds thrown at you during your lifetime. You were the generation of the pandemic, and there were no rules on how to go through your most formative years (preteens and teens) without being with your friends, in person, for years. We, as your adult family, had no map for how to navigate that.

You were the generation of political fights, where lifetime friends and partners became bitter enemies and opponents, including the countries in which we both reside. You were the generation mind-driven by algorithms and bad actors. Again, we had no instructional manual for how to protect you from that. But you adapted and figured it out. If anything, we learned through you and from you how to navigate this new world. 

For you to figure out on your own how to build yourself through all this, is remarkable. You’re a hustler and a doer. You never accept “can’t” or “won’t” and you figure things out - and that is all you. You’re a disruptor in your own right - nevermind us trying to hold you to a pattern, you follow your instincts and despite all our denials or doubts you prove us that an alternative approach is not always bad ... We’ve learned from you as much as you’ve learned from us. 

I hope you feel the fire under your feet and you feel emboldened by what’s to come. Just know that today you not only get to be fully you, but today the world is ready to look at you as an important contributor to tomorrow - not quite an adult, but no longer a child either. The world will start listening. The voice you have been building is ready to be heard. 

Empathy is one of your true secret powers. I have seen through these years what a difference you’ve made in other people’s lives. You taught all of us what resilience and ambition mean. You have the biggest heart I know - the way you cared during your most difficult years for a dying friend brought me to my knees! How you somehow, from somewhere found the strength to be there for him, holding his hand, I do not know. 

The affection you so generously give to everyone around you is infectious: the glorious hugs and kisses you share freely with all of us, taking your mom out for meals and being her sidekick in making art or running, your generosity and big-heartedness is incredible and all natural, unforced, and untrained. 

The world is ready for you and your many gifts, and I hope you continue, as you gently let go of your childhood years, just like a new swimmer gently lets go of the side of the pool and starts floating on their own, to make bigger and bigger waves and build the life we all want for you, the life that I always wanted for you, starting on that fateful April morning when you were born, 18 years ago today. 

Just like on that first day, I am now hopeful, happy, excited, and waiting with baited breath on what you have in store for us. The future is yours to make! 

Happy birthday, sweet boy! And never forget: you will forever be my sweet boy. No amount of years will change that! I love you from the bottom of my heart, and beyond. 

Be well! Be safe! Be you!