Niagara on The Lake... and Beyond!

Niagara Falls is a place of natural, awe inspiring beauty. Looking out into the horseshoe chasm as the waterfall roars over the edge is a breathtaking sight. On the day Jenny and I visited, the falls tossed us the added bonus of a picturesque rainbow! Hundreds of people were there, as I'm sure they are every day, taking pictures and staring in awe of the churning, surging power before them. It truly is an amazing work spun by the hand of God.

And then you turn around... and jutting up to the falls is this gigantic city of hotels, shops, restaurants, and casinos. Call me ignorant, but I had no idea this stuff existed right beside the falls. What was I expecting? I suppose I expected to be surrounded natural grandeur, but you know, souvenir shops and nickle slots are pretty close, right? There was a bit of a disconnect, at least to me, between the fierce and overwhelming force of nature on one side, and the glass and steel empires of man on the other. It was a little jarring.

And because of that... I needed ice cream.

However, I didn't get any. This terrible picture actually took place at the start of our adventure, before the falls, in the little town of Niagara on The Lake. It just provided a nice transition into this part of the story.

Niagara on The Lake is a charming little town, full of beautifully quaint architecture and wonderful little tourist traps. As a tourist, I felt it was my duty to fall into several of them. Again, ice cream comes in handy, as the first thing I want to show you is right behind Jenny. 

Governor's Walk

 Granted, I can't really call this gorgeous building, The Prince of Wales Hotel, a tourist trap, but it did draw me in like a moth to a flame. It actually reminded me of New Orleans from the outside. It's the kind of place where you walk in and immediately regret your decision to wear blue jeans and a jersey peacoat, because you're sure the Queen and a service of High Tea are waiting right around the corner, and well, she really doesn't appreciate sneakers.

 The interior of the hotel is elegant and sumptuous, filled with rich woodwork, beautiful marble and bronze sculptures, and glorious Tiffany style windows. Every inch of it is filled with Victorian luxury.

Tourist.

This building is also there. I don't remember what it is, but I thought it was pretty, and I'm a sucker for old stonework.

 Usually, my photography skills are not so lacking when I decide to document a trip to a foreign land, or well, anywhere, but for some reason, I don't think I really captured the essence of this pretty little patch of Canada. However, this is the best shot that I have of the main drag of Niagara on The Lake.

This clock tower is located on the main street of Niagara on The Lake and commemorates the Canadian dead of WWI. It's known as a Cenotaph which is "A monument erected to honour the dead whose bodies lie elsewhere; especially members of the armed forces who died in battle." Normally, I'd make a joke about 1.21 giagawatts when I see a clock tower, but I'll show a little respect here for the brave Canadians who died on foreign soil long ago.  Thank you to the vets of a friendly nation!

OK, off to see some water!

Here's Brock's Monument. Who was Brock? Well friends, he was a British Guy:

"Major-General Isaac Brock, Commander-in-Chief of British forces in Upper Canada was stationed at Fort George in Newark (now Niagara-on-the-Lake).  He had just returned from a victory over American forces at Detroit.  Now he observed the build-up of troops on the American side of the Niagara River from Buffalo to Youngstown.

On the fateful morning of the battle, Brock raced from Fort George to Queenston.  In a valiant effort to retake the Heights of Queenston, he was fatally wounded while leading his troops into battle.
All seemed lost for the British until General Sheaffe, summoned from Fort George, marched with his men of the 41st Regiment, militia and Native forces and gained the rear of the Heights.  With one line charge the Americans were routed.  This tactical movement ensured a victory for the British and gave the inhabitants of Upper Canada new hope and commitment to the British cause."

Or, in my own version of history, I think he's the guy that insured Canada would always have the cooler side of Niagara Falls.

 I believe that's New York across the way. I was excited to see it, if only at a distance. I've never been to the far Northeastern portion of America, and I hope I get the chance to visit it someday. It looks... just like Canada.

 Here is the Niagara Rapids Whirlpool! It's an unusual little spot in the Niagara river where certain turbulent convergences create this swirling, churning vortex! Check out the science behind here!

 I think this is the same area, just a little removed.

We're not normally this pink. However, if you look past our bubble gum faces, you can see the skycar that travels over the whirlpool rapids. (Top left.) We didn't have time to ride it, but it looked like it was a pretty fun time.

And that's where I'm leaving it, because this post is long enough, and it's almost time for me to jet. Hence, the falls gots to waits. However, next time, it's full tilt to Niagara!

O Canada!

 mygapyear.ca

You're not my home or native land, but I still think you're pretty spectacular. For my 30th birthday this past April, my best friend, Jenny, surprised me with a trip to Canada! Yeah, I know, greatest best friend ever. In reality, it was all thanks to the Pampered Chef... well, Jenny's ability to sell their awesome products.

Now, I've been to Canada a couple of times, once, I visited one of their fine French speaking airports for  48 hours... FORTY EIGHT HOURS, thanks to a menacing snowstorm that refused to budge. Angry passengers were yelling at angry airline staff in angry Canadian French. Me, I slept on a plastic chair with my sister and nephew and subsisted off day old bagels and questionable beverages... not the best introduction to a country I've ever had. The second time, thankfully, was much more fun, and can be read about in my very first blog post!

This trip to Canada however, was nothing but straight up awesomeness. But, it did begin a little strangely... I won't rehash, but to say that the worst string of tornadoes to hit Alabama in my lifetime struck the day before we left, leaving everything in a state of havoc. Driving to Jenny's in complete darkness, no streetlights, no store signs, not even a visible moon, was one of the eeriest experiences in my life.

Anyway...

"What do all these lines mean?"

We flew to Canada, hopped our transportation shuttle, dropped our bags off at the hotel, registered,  and proceeded to immediately get lost on the streets of Toronto. Now, navigation isn't a strong suit for either of us, and I'm pretty sure we won't be earning our merit badges in map reading anytime soon.  Originally, we were looking for China Town, hoping to grab a spot of dinner. Instead we ended up in the gay district looking very much like the helpless, hapless American tourists that we were.

Eventually, we decided to scrap the plan for China Town and headed towards the somewhat closer Greek Town... not that we knew how to get there either. Thankfully, some kind Canadian lady took pity on us and approached, asking if we were lost and if she could help. With her directions and only a couple of wrong turns, we found our way to Greek Town. We were both pretty exhausted from all the walking getting lost entailed, so much so, we didn't bother to take many (any) pictures, but take my word, Greek Town was excellent, mainly because it offered me a meal consisting of Souvlaki, feta cheese, lemony rice, and pita bread- much better than the... unsatisfying bag of nothing... offered on the airplane.

And that was day one in the great province of Ontario!

Day 2, which happened to be my birthday, started very early... all thanks to a couple of high profile Brits. I won't lie... I was excited about the Royal Wedding. I'm not much older than William and have always been interested in the exploits of the British crown. I thought Wills was handsome, Kate, absolutely stunning, and Harry was dashing (and ginger and awesome!)

That dress was perfection.

After watching the wedding, it was breakfast time... and the Pampered Chef knows how to put on a spread, but you'd kind of assume that given that they're "The Pampered CHEF." It was amazing, but we still went for birthday donuts afterward, because, well... 30.

Tim Horton's!

*Cue Homer Simpson face*

I'd never actually had Tim Horton's before this trip, but I'd heard their goodness extolled constantly by Jenny. Personally, I thought they were pretty good, and the one that has cinnamon in it is outstanding, but nothing compared to the wonders offered by our local Fultondale Bakery.

After Tim's... I think we took naps. I know, we're not exciting, but that wedding was at an unholy hour! Besides, it was my birthday, and trust me, that nap was a present. After that, it was time to explore the city a little, and by explore the city, I mean find a place for a birthday lunch. (Seriously, we did do more than eat on this trip.)

Though, obviously, eating was a big part of it.
POUTINE! Yes, Canada's famous concoction of fries covered in cheese curds and gravy finally made its way my face. I must say, I wasn't a great fan of this particular gravy, but the concept is a good one. I do like my fries with an obscene amount of ketchup, but this was a nice departure, and with a better gravy, it'd be awesome.

Jenny liked the beer. I still can't stand the stuff.
We had this birthday lunch at a little brewery, Les 3 Brasseurs, which we found while walking around downtown. We didn't know anything about it, but the food was tasty, the service good, and they offered free tours, which was a nice bonus.

 This gigantic copper kettle is where the hops (or barley or whatever) are cooked... I'm not sure. I'm by no means an aficionado on the brewing of anything, and it's almost sad to have me attempt to explain it. I just know it's a very important part of the process. It's a beautiful piece of equipment, that's for sure. This is the only portion of the operation that's viewable from the dining area of the restaurant.

 Here we are out of the public eye, in the working portion of the brewery. These tanks hold the brew and allow it to ferment for however long is necessary. Also, there's a random guy for your viewing pleasure.

This is where they keep all the grain for the various kinds of beer they make. The guy is pointing something out that's probably important, but I was too busy laughing at the pic I'd just taken, (this one) because Jenny seems to be sauntering through the room like she owns it.

Maybe she does. Jenny's really, really enthusiastic about beer.

Really... enthusiastic.

Me, I still don't like the stuff, but I enjoyed the tour. All of the equipment is interesting, and some of it is downright beautiful. Leave it to an artist to be overwhelmed by the aesthetics of beer while not caring for the taste of it! I will say, I would absolutely love to design a beer (or wine) label. They're often beautiful/funny/cheeky works of art.

A big thanks to this guy, who took us on the tour. I don't remember your name, brewing guy, but I'll never forget you! (Until, I probably forget you.) After that, we played at being the tourists we actually were. We did a little sight seeing, visited the mall, ("Let's go to the mall! ...Today!") took pictures in front of all the American stores, partook of wedding day cupcakes during a replay of the royal vows, and generally enjoyed the rest of the day and the Pampered Chef banquet that night, in my honor. (Well, probably in honor of the thousands of reps there, but delusions are fun!) All in all, it was a great way to turn 30.

Next post... NIAGARA FALLS!

Return to New Orleans, or Meeting MIKE ROWE!

That's right. I met MIKE ROWE.

MIKE ROWE!

 This guy! :D

 

However, I didn't meet him right away, so I'm not starting there...just keep that in mind...because I did, and it was awesome.

Where I am starting is around 11:55 AM, June 5th, 2010. At this particular moment in time, I was sitting in the back of my father's car as he and my mother drove me to the Amtrak station to meet my train to NOLA. I'd never truly traveled by train before, just taken one for a short sight-seeing trip in Colorado, and I don't think the train at the zoo really counts. I mean, the engineer rides ON the engine. It doesn't ring of authenticity.

My train was scheduled to leave at 12:30, and with fifteen minutes of driving yet ahead of us, I was cutting it close, which for me, is fairly standard operating procedure. Still, you only have to arrive thirty minutes beforehand, so I wasn't that worried.

Until...

I looked at my ticket again, and then once more, and saw that 12:30 was actually 12:03. Thank you, random moment of dyscalculia! This of course, brought about my loud exclamation of "OH CRAP!" After explaining my moment of retardation. 1.21 gigawatts and 88 mph later, I was there at 12:01. I grabbed my bags, kissed the folks goodbye and ran for the platform. Thankfully, Amtrak was keeping it real by running late as well. Mom had followed me and after another frantic goodbye, I was left standing by my train, a frantic, disheveled mess, suitcase and ticket in hand when I heard from behind me, "Elizabeth?" Turns out, my friend Brannon, who I hadn't seen since college, now lives in New Orleans as a tattoo artist. It was nice to catch up, and a reminder of how funny life can be.

And now, time for some pictures:

I just thought this was a gorgeous scene.

Flying into New Orleans last time, I wasn't treated to a view of one of the "Cities of The Dead." I was amazed by this. Yes, I know that due to the water table, folks are placed in mausoleums instead of buried, but WOW, at the size and scope of these cemeteries.

Why aren't more Zombie movies centered in New Orleans?

I was really enjoying the train ride. I had a huge window, an entire row to myself, and having dinner in the dining car was a novel experience. I read. I wrote. I drew. I took a nap. All was going smoothly until we hit Slidell, and then, things got strange.
A gentleman who I have affectionately named "The Crackhead from Slidell," and his lady-friend boarded the train, lawn and leaf bag luggage in tow, and settled into their seats. A couple of minutes later, I'm minding my own business, leafing through the book I brought, when I hear from behind me, "I gonna keel ya" (phonetics for your pleasure!) "I gonna crack ya skull, cause you a n-word, bit**! I'm a man, a mother fu**ing man! I am Naw Awlans, ninth ward, born n' raised!" (on the playground where he spent most of his days...) He repeated this roughly thirty to fifty times, standing up and pointing at his lady-friend, who sat in her seat, doing nothing, as if this was par for the course.

Everyone else in the car was obviously uncomfortable, except for one old lady, God bless her, who actually berated him for his callous and casual use of the n-word and profanity. As I watched, ducked down, between the crack in my seat, I assumed he was about to kill her, but instead, he apologized and acted humbled. Then, he turned to his lady again, looked at her lovingly and said "gonna bash ya skull in."

Anyway, security eventually, forcibly, removed him to his own compartment, where I'm sure he had a wonderful time, because when he returned, as we reached New Orleans, he was in a fantastic mood.

Now, instead of focusing his crack filled rage on his lady, he enlightened us all to his evening plans. "I gonna take on all a Bou'bon street tonight, all a Bou'bon street wit mah man, Reggie Bush! We tight, we tight, me and Reggie Bush, me and Reggie Bush! Tonight, we gon' git all the p(meow!)y on Bou'bon street. Me an' Reggie Bush..." We, the other passengers, let him leave first.

And that, my friends, was my first train ride.

After this, I was glad I wasn't venturing out in the Big Easy alone, (and certainly not to Bourbon Street...not with Reggie Bush and the Gentleman Crackhead were on the prowl.) I was again meeting up with my good friend Cindi! After dinner and a restful night at our hotel, we hit the town. We shopped, toured the city, and ate wherever the locals said was good. I snagged a new book and a Mardi Gras mask at the French Market and lusted after a dress a couldn't afford. That afternoon, we were meeting up with Captain Keith,  Florence, and Monte at a local oyster festival, but first, some pics:

Not Reggie Bush.

Saint Jeanne d' Arc, The Maid of Orléans.

 Jackson Square

After downing a quick lunch of a shrimp po'boy and a drink of the frozen persuasion, we headed down to the oyster fest for the main event. The Captains and crews from Deadliest Catch were in town for the After The Catch Filming and several of the guys, including Monte, were participating in the oyster eating contest. 

Jake and Edgar were representing the F/V Northwestern.

Monte was standing up for the F/V Wizard. Mike Fourtner was ready to chow down for the F/V Time Bandit, and Wild Bill of the F/V Kodiak was also willing to put down his beer for a round of oysters.

I'm just going to say that Mike Fourtner is a beastly beast of a man. Everyone was fighting their way through the plates of the slimy, wriggly oysters. Some even gave up, but he was downing them like his life depended on it.

Welcome to Monte experiencing oysters for the first time. We later informed him that you aren't supposed to chew them. I think he finished with a grand total of four. Mike there, yeah, still going.

Edgar put up a pretty good fight, but I think he's about to blow out a vein in his forehead. 

Unsurprisingly, Mike walked away with the championship boot and the admiration of at least four other crab fishermen. I can't recall how many he actually ate, but it seems as if it was something along the lines of 38 in a minute...

After that, the guys headed off to do some filming and Cindi and I headed back to the hotel for a little relaxation and swimming. I met up with my friend Brannon and we took a tour of the wax museum, talked about art on the steps of his house, and grabbed a beverage at a local coffee shop. 

A night at the wax museum. Can't you feel the history come alive?

Later that night, Cindi, Travis, Keith, Florence, Monte, and I all ended up at the Spotted cat for a little live jazz. Live music is always a good thing, and at one point, there must have been ten or more musicians all playing at once in this tiny venue. It was loud, it was packed, it was awesome!

One of the musicians playing a solo.

Cindi, Florence, and me enjoying the music.

Keith and Monte with the rockin' trumpet player.

(all spotted cat pics thanks to Cindi!)

And so went the night. The next day the 'round table' portion of the filming was taking place and Cindi and I were really hoping we'd be able to sit in on the actual shoot. However, that was not to be. The set was completely closed during filming so we made our way to the back lot and watched the live feed from the trailer with Florence.

Thanks Cindi!

The filming was fun to watch. Of course, you see more than what makes it to the final cut, and let me just say, some of my favorite moments were left in the editing room.

Thanks Cindi!

Between takes or while another group was being filmed, the guys would come out to the lot to talk, hang out, or watch the filming as well. Judging by my face, Monte is telling a story that I obviously don't believe. ;)

I think I caught Trav in the middle of a sentence.

Post filming, we were allowed in for the after party.

Jeff Conroy, Andy Hillstrand, MIKE ROWE, unsure, unsure, Trav.

Now, let me just say that Cindi and I don't often get starstruck. The guys we work with are just our friends. The other guys are just the other guys that happen to be on the show. However...I will not lie about this, meeting MIKE ROWE was a dazzling, starstruck, act like a stupid fangirl moment. Cindi was all but shaking and I was pretty sure my face was cracking from my smile. Coherent thought and for that matter, basic tact and manners were...well, it just wasn't going to happen.

Andy Hillstrand saw Cindi and I standing off to ourselves giggling like retards and he asked us what the deal was. We told him we wanted to meet MIKE ROWE.

"MIKE ROWE? You want to meet MIKE ROWE?" he says, "Well, come on!" 

He proceeds to grab Cindi by the arm and I follow in hot pursuit. He then tells MIKE ROWE that "these ladies here want to meet you and get a picture," or something like that...it's all a blur.

MIKE ROWE! and me!

MIKE ROWE! and Cindi!

Thanks Cindi! 

The following is the conversation that took place upon meeting MIKE ROWE! 

Cindi: "You're MIKE ROWE!"

MIKE ROWE: "Eh, everybody's gotta be somebody."

Cindi: "But you're MIKE ROWE!"

MIKE ROWE: *laughter, classic MIKE ROWE sigh,  "Doesn't anyone introduce themselves anymore?"

Me: "Hi MIKE ROWE, I'm Liz, and you'll have to forgive our inability to be anything but raging fangirls right now."

Cindi: "I'm Cindi, and I'm sorry, but MIKE ROWE!"

MIKE ROWE: *smirks, laughs, continues to be awesome.

(not verbatim, but pretty darn close.)

 Thanks Cindi!

MIKE ROWE and Monte enjoying a big plate of crawfish, cold beer, and a laugh. Cindi and I shamelessly photographed him the entire time.

"Oh, hi MIKE ROWE. Uh...no, no, I'm not sneaking candid photos of you like a rabid, tabloid paparazzi...I'm just...uh...aiming my camera in your general direction...constantly. Stop looking at me."

...click!

He actually wasn't even looking at me here. Someone was beside me was calling his name and I snapped this just as he looked in my direction.

Thanks Cindi!

MIKE ROWE signed autographs for us on the only thing we could find, drink coasters. I'm just glad that as an artist, I always have a sharpie with me.

"Keep it dirty Liz" -MIKE ROWE

Of course, not everything centered around meeting MIKE ROWE. Here, Sig takes command of the bar mixing up, if I recall, a vodka cran.

Russell Newberry showed up which was a real treat. I was not expecting to see him, and it had been a while since we last talked. Russ is a total goofball...and I mean that in the best possible way.

Travis takes over for Sig.

On a more somber note, Phil was remembered and given an honored spot on the wall by the round table. The table itself had been made specifically for the show and had the image of Phil's necklace, a king crab in gold, painted onto the top.

The lovely Florence with Chef Kevin Belton of The New Orleans School of Cooking. Kevin was on ATC showing the guys how to make gumbo. He also gave a very interesting talk about the history of gumbo and how its name is a derivative of West African word for Okra, "ki ngombo."

Speaking of Kevin, cooking, and gumbo, that brings me to this:

After the party, Kevin took us to the famous K Paul's, the restaurant of Chef Paul Prudhomme. Kevin is a regular there and we got top notch service and excellent food. Since I'd never had it before, I ordered the rabbit, and it was spectacular...along with everything else. Still, nothing topped the company. It was a great finish to a great trip. After dinner,we roamed the quarter for a while, were treated to an impromptu concert by a large street band, and surprised a fan or two. To close the night, we dropped by one last party where Cindi and I bid our farewells to all in attendance. I've been to New Orleans twice now and it has yet to disappoint. I'm looking forward to the next time I sway on down to the Big Easy.

I do believe this is the longest post I've ever written. I hope someone out there enjoyed it.