Capital City

We arrived in Ottawa at sunset last Tuesday with nowhere to stay and no idea of how to navigate the city. My broken disc break was strapped to my front fork with a ziptie, and Dave's back rack was precariously attached to the frame of his bike with zipties as well. Our socks and shoes were soggy from the downpours that we found ourselves caught in earlier, but our spirits soared as we finally arrived in Capital City.

I was a bit disappointed that my facebook status update reading Meaghan is seeking accommodation for three cycling nomads in Ottawa yielded no responses, but I guess that's the way the cookie crumbles...356 friends? psh, my foot. So after debating the pros and cons of hoboing it up in a city park for the night, we called up the Comfort Inn and booked a room. We figured that if we consumed enough calories at the continental breakfast, the extra dough that we splurged on the room wouldn't be so significant.

Like I said, we arrived late in Capital City. The first thing we did was check out the Parliament buildings, which were all lit up and crowded with tourists from around the globe. The second priority was to get something to eat. We wandered into a pizza place downtown, looking a tad bit out of place in our cycling spandex and sweaty cycling shirts. The third thing we needed to do was have celebrate our arrival in the nation's capital by having a beer. We had one at the restaurant, but it was a pretty pricey place so we figured that we would just go to a Lick Bo (LCBO-the Ontario Liquor store) and pick up something to drink. Then we remembered that the stores close at 9:00pm, and it was already quarter past 10. Damn. But then, we remembered where we were: bordering the great province of Quebec! Just a short bike ride over the bridge to Gatineau separated us from the couche tarde, where we could find cool beer and wine at reasonable prices.

So we hopped on our bike and kicked it out to Quebec to escape Ontario's archaic liquor laws. Mwah hahahahaha! The green and yellow couche tard sign lit up in the darkness of the evening. We were hassled by a drunk french bum on the steps of the corner store, who kept asking me for "check, check?". I shock my head and uttered "Je ne comrands" or something like that and eventually he changed it to "change, change?" and I realized what he wanted. As we left, Toby handed him some coins and the fellow laughed at us as we bungeed a case of beer on the back of Toby's bike and pedaled back over the bridge to our hotel room. We consumed the beverages in the air conditioned comfort of our cozy room, staying up late to watch weird made for TV movies and Star Trek.


The next day we cruised around the city, took some cheesy photos in front of Parliament, checked out the Pop Life exhibit at the Art Gallery, and did a tour of the legislative buildings. Interesting factoid: some dudes who carved the stone in one of the foyers wanted to sign their names to receive credit for their work, but were not permitted because the building belong to the public and not anyone individual. So, these carvers snuck in one night, just before the room was complete, and carved their faces in the heads marking north, south, east, and west. Pretty crafty, eh? I thought so anyways. That night we sat on the lawns of Legislature and watched MosAika: a musical light show about Canadian history and culture. We dug it; the trains rocked!

The following morning we checked out of the hotel, our pockets full of muffins and apples from the continental breakfast. We rode back over the bridge and into Quebec, this time to stay. I hate to admit, but I my français is pretty much non-existent. Although I hope that some of my old high school French lessons will return to me, I'm still doubtful that I will be able to communicate much more than my desire to use the restroom. But who knows? I might surprise myself.