Behind the whitewashed house was a small tree covered hill pristine with snow. We unloaded the car and went inside the one hundred year old wooden house, with a steep staircase, high ceilings and tall skirting boards I felt almost at home. I got my own room looking out on the frosty LaHave River where I could see the ferry endlessly churning up the ice as it ploughed its route. I put my electrical goods on to charge then made my way downstairs where Anna was preparing dinner, we were to have a lesser known Canadian ‘delicacy’ of Chicken and Biscuit Pie.

Not quite as it sounds but equally as weird, it consists of boiled chicken with peas in a broth of stock and mushroom soup which was put into a baking dish and topped with savoury scones or ‘biscuits’. Anna had told me about this beforehand and I was determined not to like it. As the dinner cooked in the oven we chatted over a glass or two of red wine and I filled them in on my flight and my first impressions of the New World.

The oven pinged and the ‘pie’ was ready for sampling. I was eager to try this strange concoction of ingredients but as much as my brain was telling me to dislike the unusual meal my mouth was adamant it tasted good and I tucked in. Another part of Canadian culture is a restaurant called Tim Horton’s. Essentially a fast food outlet, complete with drive-through, its main trade is done through the sale of hot drinks and doughnuts. The hot drinks being a source of much pleasure as every few months a competition is held where, after the purchase of a drink, one must “roll the rim to win”. Anna’s dad had bought one of the said beverages and it was my honour, as part of my cultural education, to unveil the words “please play again”, a phrase I would see several times more during my stay. We finished dinner late due to the long but beautiful scenic drive and went to bed in anticipation of what tomorrow would bring.

07.03.09

The hydraulics of the ferry moaned finishing with a crescendo of bangs and scrapes as the steel ramp hit concrete of the south shore, I woke with a start knowing inherently I’d slept for too long. Apparently I hadn’t quite mastered the alarm system of my new watch which has the entire Worlds’ time zones as part of its repertoire; I’d embarrassingly set my alarm for London Greenwich Mean Time instead of Atlantic Time, which at the time was minus four hours. I was washed and changed within minutes and downstairs eating from my bowl of imported Dorset Cereal.

Anna and I were off to Halifax, the provincial capital, so it was my first day of driving on the North American roads in the smaller of the two cars but first I needed to satisfy Anna’s dads’ worries by passing my ‘test’. I’d driven abroad before but never on the wrong other side of the road. Anna’s dad gave me a quick guide of the various controls and drove a few minutes down the road to a local beach. We swapped places and I tentatively crept out of the car park and slipped down a quiet road. It felt odd at first, having to look the other way and so on but at least the car was an automatic making it more of a stop/go affaire. I was soon accustomed to the feel and I pulled into the local bakery where we stopped for a snack.

I’d passed my ‘test’ and the two hour drive into Halifax centre was soon underway. The Canadian roads whilst clear of snow were riddled with pot holes and sections of loose tarmac making the ride somewhat bumpy at times, especially with the American suspension. Even the highways had large holes and sections where the top layer of tarmac had just disappeared but understandably so when they were subject to a large change in temperatures each year as well as being scraped free from snow and ice by the ploughs. The roads were also almost entirely devoid of road markings, which didn’t seem to bother the locals but I found it quite irritating especially around junctions. ‘Is this one lane or two? Where would you like me to stop at that red on the other side of a crossroads? Oh, that red light means I can turn right does it?’ I thought to myself many times during the drive. The logic wasn’t always plain to see. The road signs didn’t help either because of their absence or just lack of direction and coherence, even Anna agreed that the signs here were terrible. This all just added to the experience, though, and I thoroughly enjoyed the drive. Eager to see some wildlife while I was there I constantly had an eye out looking for creatures large and small. I was lucky this time as I saw Hawk gliding above while later I also spotted a racoon with its robber mask-like face and stripy tail probably on the lookout for a bin it could rummage through.

We arrived in the city around lunch time so food was first on the agenda. We went to a small trendy cafe called The Wired Monk where I ordered some pesto and chicken noodle soup. Anna, being a coffee snob, was keen to get me drinking the black stuff and ordered me a Mocha, which I actually enjoyed. Anna had the humorously named ‘conflicted chicken’ constituting, amongst other things, curry sauce, dried cranberries, apple and cheese – unusual but tasty.

Satiated, we drove down to the waterfront situated on the largest natural harbour in the world. With such an asset, the surrounding area was mostly industrial, the harbour being accommodated by small tug boats used for chaperoning the huge cargo vessels that arrived in Halifax after many days at sea. Signs warned the passerby of the lack of winter maintenance hinting that I wouldn’t be able to sue should I slip and plunge into the icy waters below. Splinters of mother of pearl from various molluscs caught at sea, brought back and unloaded at the docks littered the snow covered planks.

Intrigued by the Halifax explosion and the Titanic rescue mission, we visited the Maritime museum. During the war effort, two munitions ships in the harbour area collided because neither captain saw fit to move, stubbornly sticking to their paths, and the resulting sparks set alight the munitions on board culminating in a huge explosion which flattened a large area of Halifax. Many people died including one man who saw what was about to happen and sent a message to an approaching train, forsaking his own life for those on the train. Halifax was the nearest port when the Titanic sunk and so the survivors and many of the dead bodies were taken there by the rescue crews. In a glass cabinet was an actual deck chair from the Titanic. It looked almost new. It was moving to see such a real piece of history, a part of such a famous and tragic story – one of the major disasters of the 20th century. We took a minute to reflect on the events which seemed all the more real for seeing this object. Beside it was a replica, which, although it didn’t look it, was very comfortable indeed. There were also menus from the three classes on board taken from some of the dead bodies found floating amongst the wreckage. Even a piece of wood, beautifully carved with flowers and leaves that would have been part of the ships most impressive feature, the Grand Staircase, was on display. In another part of Halifax was a cemetery devoted to the unlucky people that did not survive that awful night, one bearing the name J. Dawson.

Before leaving Halifax we visited a speciality shop that sold many imported British goods like Tate and Lyles Golden syrup. Walking past the impressive (for a Canadian shop) tea section, I spotted a box of Yorkshire Tea complete with the £1.99 label. I took a picture as evidence and heard a voice behind me say...

“I think that’s illegal isn’t it?”

Embarrassed, I stood up quickly explaining that I am from Yorkshire, England and this would be the last thing I expected to see in Canada. She was a fellow shopper and delighted in telling me that she too was from Yorkshire originally before going on to recommend a good tea that suits the Canadian water. What a small world it is.

We got some good steak and Brussels sprouts and headed home. After dinner I was to try another Canadian dish, this time for pudding, called Apple crisp. A variation on our apple crumble, the apples are finely sliced with bread crumbs sprinkled on top. After cooking it had all mixed slightly into a thick soup that didn’t look very appetising but tasted great.