Happy Birthday to me
Forty.
Halifax, day 7
Sunday. I felt lazy today. Woke up late (for me, 8:30 a.m.), ate, studied for forty minutes, updated the blog, talked with Maria and Nate then headed out. Hit the Keith Brewery for one of their IPA logo baseball caps for a gift (Hi, Conor) then continued down Lower Water Street and turned sort of West (South Street?) then Northward toward the inland side of the Citadel, the public garden (closed), the hospital and the Museum of Natural History. The museum is geared toward kids and I was one of only a handful of adults not leading or being led by children. I spent an hour and a half there taking in the exhibits. It’s maybe one eighth the size of the NYS Museum but they have a mastodon skeleton, too, and exhibits on the Mi’kmaq people and on the locally discovered prehistoric human evidence (numerous flint tools). Made my way back along Spring Garden road and stopped at the Second Cup near Dalhousie for some good coffee and to watch the goings on then returned to the hotel to collect my laptop and find a place outdoors to work. The Economy Shoe Shop bar and grill on Argyle with its funky exterior and warren-like interior fit the bill: patio, wireless internet and a dozen beers on tap. Too bad the food is mediocre even for bar snacks. I’ve read the service is slow when it’s busy, but there were only a dozen patrons including the bartender’s friends and the staff seemed friendly and pretty efficient. Still, it was a pleasant enough place to spend two hours typing.
Halifax, days 1-6
I’m here for work but I’ve been exploring the city on foot when I have time and the weather permits. Speaking of the local weather, it’s been glorious, unseasonably warm and only a little rain. I take a few snapshots with my “monkey box” one-button digital camera when I remember to bring it, see my Halifax pics.
The best free street map is from the Metro-Transit authority. Links to the pdf of the front and back. Google maps does a serviceable job with its beta of walking directions too. I haven’t bothered to take the bus and find the city fairly walkable.
The food. I don’t have contacts or colleagues here, so I’ve been making the rounds of the nearby restaurants and dining with my dead-tree companions. Very little surprise but other than the pubs, many restaurants are closed on Sunday, at least during the off-season. Here’s what I’ve sampled:
- Star Anise, Vietnamese. Very good, especially considering the reasonable prices. Seems to cater to a lunch crowd, it was nearly empty when I went in. The interior of formica tables and a mix of wooden dining chairs and metal outdoor chairs looks like the owners acquired the place as a fast-food joint. The shrimp soup dumplings in savory broth were very good. The vermicelli with pork and a spring roll was good, the spring roll was very good, the pork cooked a little too dry and the bright fresh flavors I expected a little dim. I’ll go back this week.
- Minato, Korean Japanese. Okay, good food, inexpensive, poor service. I was over by Spring Garden Road considering options and reading the menu for Sushi Nami when two collegiate-looking types also trying to make up their minds about dinner walked by. One remarked that he’s been there a few times and the food was okay but expensive and there is better. I interrupted them and asked for a recommendation and he sent me to Minato. It was busy and while I counted three wait staff, they could barely keep up with the two small floors of tables. The sushi and sashimi was delicious, the miso soup and salad just fair. The service was awful, so bad I’m reluctant to go back and try the Korean dishes.
- Foggy Goggle. Hey, it’s a pub. The name is fun to say and they have some kind of minimal attempt at an aviator theme that’s sort of layered over by the usual pub bric-a-brac. I chose it because they hadn’t cleared out the bar stools and chairs to make room for a mid-week college-age standing room only drinking crowd (like Pogue Fado did, I was also put off by the presence of three imposing bouncers outside and another inside and didn’t stay to have a drink. I’m too old for that) and there was enough light to read my magazine. They have a limited draft beer selection but the pub burger is a treat and the wait staff is attentive.
- Just Us Coffee. Just okay. I ducked in for a snack and a cup of joe in lieu of a late lunch on Saturday. The “dark” coffee was a weak brew, not as good as Second Cup, better than Tim Hortons. The carrot cake was adequate, not too sweet but a little dry. The place was a carnival of employees and their friends and the table by the window has a good view of the passers-by on Barrington St. I’m guessing they make it on their location and politics.
- Stone Street Cafe. Very good, expensive. It was raining so I tried dinner in the restaurant underneath the hotel. It was completely empty other than myself and the waitstaff. The chef came out during my meal to chat, which was a bit of a surprise when I looked up from my magazine and saw him smiling and leaning over toward the table. The local bread and cardamon butter was a treat. The grilled chicken and mushroom soup I began with was very good. The entree of pappardelle was perfectly al dente, the local seafood and salmon, just done, the tomato cream sauce, good but there was a bit too much of it for my taste and hid the flavors of the seafood. I enjoyed the pistachio creme brulee but it was, really, unexceptional.
- Opa. Upscale Greek place at Argyle and Blowers. Very busy, several large parties were already seated when I came in before 7pm. It had a good vibe. The bar staff was very attentive. The wait staff, just so-so. I was slightly annoyed that they were reserving the nearly empty patio for groups of three or more and left me at the bar to eat. The food was okay, a little above a New Jersey Greek diner (not much) but more attractively plated. It’s a big cut above the donair (gyro) joints but unless you’re with a sizable group sharing plates or impressed with the wine list and chewing up the atmosphere, it’s really just okay.
- Farmer’s Market on Lower Water Street, Saturday until mid-day. It’s what you expect, an indoor farmer’s market with tasty local foods and regional products. I wish I had a kitchen, so I could have tried the meats and veggies. It all looked good, reminded me of the one we had in Brooklyn. Because I’m travelling internationally with just carry-on bags, I also didn’t buy any of the non- or less-perishable foodstuffs to bring home besides some sweets.
The citadel is the old colonial barracks and fortification. It’s on the highest point in the area then dug in (or built up, I’m not sure) about thirty feet deep. The museum wasn’t open, but I walked around it then through the open grounds and along the pallisade wall. Great view of the city in every direction and at 12 noon each day they fire off a signal cannon.
I strolled the boardwalk on my way to the farmer’s market and Maritime Museum. The docks have a mix of tourist and working ships. In the shallowest parts of the murky green water you can see sea urchins, mussels and (I wish Nate was here) orangish and pink-tinged starfish. There’s no way to get closer, short of falling in, and I couldn’t get any pictures. The Maritime Museum is compact and I spent a couple of hours there. Merlin, a parrot, greets you when you enter (thank Robert Louis Stevenson for that association of bird with pirate) and delighted the kids by talking and whistling. The collection has an astounding number of models, some 520 according to their literature, and present short films on the Halifax explosion (in 1917 a French munitions ship collided with a merchant ship, burned and exploded, devastating the city) and the wreck of the Titanic. Aside from that famous one, the museum has an interesting exhibit on shipwrecks and salvage and notes that there are anywhere from 10,000 to 25,000 ship wrecks around Halifax and the Maritimes since its colonial founding.
Halifax, day 0.5
Spent most of the day in airports. Continental comped anyone on the 2:45 delayed flight who asked for one with a customer appreciation sleeve containing a 10% discount on future travel, a drink ticket and a $14 meal voucher. I had planned to waste four hours making my connection today so it seemed like good deal. A number of passengers missed their connections and found their next flights full or, worse, overbooked, they didn’t think it was much of an offer.
I learned (from a friendly TSA employee) that Continental runs their own inter-terminal shuttles from the secure side of the TSA checkpoint for ticketed passengers making connections. I arrived at the booth five minutes before the next one from Terminal C, near Gate 71, to Terminal A, near Gate 28 and was at Gate 27 in less than ten minutes and without passing through the security check again. Win!
Wandered around downtown Halifax, out to St. Mary’s and Dalhousie and crisscrossed back. It’s more hilly than I expected. There is a strong effort to preserve the old architecture (aside from some oddities like the Scotia Plaza and- I think- the civic arena which were plunked down blocking where the old streets must have run). I forgot my camera but I’ll retrace my steps and take a few snapshots.
Ate at the Wooden Monkey in what I’ve read is it’s new location on 1707 Grafton Street. I saw a recommendation on either yelp or traveladvisor for the old location. Ignore the website. Ignore the owners’ local, organic, save-the-Earth high-mindedness, the earthy turmeric-colored plaster and the menu’s asterisked gluten-free and vegan reminders. Just eat. The food is good. Really good of the, “Wow, you must try a bite of this!” variety. I had the house side salad and the grilled lamb burger with rosemary goat cheese and “roasties”, roasted seasoned potatoes cut slightly finer than home-style fries, with a local Scotch Ale. I forgot to warn them against overcooking the lamb but it still arrived just perfectly done, juicy with the slightest pink in the middle. Excellent meal.
Headed off to Halifax
Travelling for business, of course. I hear it’s beautiful up there, though going almost three degrees lattitude North of home during spring means I’ll probably get to experience that early-March weather all over again. I’m not off to a great start, arrived a hour and fifteen before my 6:50 a.m. departure at my local airport for the connecting flight just to queue for an hour and find my flight delayed by two. No info on the net or at the automated kiosk, other than that I could not self check-in. Had to wait the whole time. No announcement from the desk or update on the displays of departures. Thanks, to Continental and to all your sub-carriers. Fortunately, I have a complete lack of faith in these fairy tales called “schedules” and left myself a four hour layover to make the second leg. Fingers crossed.
See you at ILC 2009
http://www.international-lisp-conference.org/
The questions he asks
I used to think it was a joke but as the parent of a three and a half year-old, I know first hand that kids endlessly ask questions. What’s interesting is the evidence of his developing awareness:
- Why does the moon follow us?
- Where do birds go at night?
- Why do some people have dark skin?
- Where do cars come from?
- Why is there fighting in Israel? (After hearing NPR while I drove him to daycare)
- Where do boo-boo’s go?
- Can I see the bones inside me? (After finding my medical text on anatomy)
- Are pirates bad guys? (I’m guessing more NPR…)
- Do crows eat garbage? (The Hudson valley has a lot of crows)
But just the other day after reading the children’s book [What Pet to Get](http://www.amazon.com/What-Pet-Get-Emma-Dodd/dp/0545035708), the questions got harder. In the story the little boy suggests a dinosaur as a pet, the mother says that they’re “extinct”. We explained what extinct means.
Nate asked “Dinosaurs are extinct?” Then he volunteered, “There’s nothing but bones left?”
“Yes.”
“Is the mastodon extinct?” He loves the Cohoes Mastodon [exhibit at the New York State museum](http://www.nysm.nysed.gov/exhibits/longterm/mastodon/index.html).
“Yes.”
“Extinct things are not alive anymore?”
“Yes.”
“They’re dead?”
“Yes… why do you ask?” Uh, oh. Maria laughed at me.
“Will Knuckles be extinct?” Knuckles is our cat.
“Not extinct, he’s going to be alive for a long time. Cats can live to be 20 years old. You’re three so it’s a long time.”
“Will Brandy be extinct?” Oh, boy. Brandy is his grandparents’ dog.
“She’s old, but not extinct,” I pause. “Extinct means there’s no more of that kind of animal.”
“Oh.”
You could see the gears turning. The next questions are not going to be easy.
Gallery mostly gone
I’ve removed most of the photo gallery. My hosting is at a friend’s sufferance (thanks again, Bill!)
and 350MB of just images means I’m the top disk hog.
A non-sequitur worthy of Zippy
Jeepers, I’m being harassed by phone calls from a senile Italian woman
It sounds like something from Zippy the Pinhead, but I actually typed this today to a colleague. Someone, a very old woman who speaks a little bit of halting English and what might be Italian, calls my home office number several times a day, every weekday, starting each morning around 7:30am. This usually stops before noon. Sometimes she calls in the early evening. She’ll call back three or four times in a row. The strange calls have been going on for two weeks. She hangs up with “‘scuzi, sorry” (or “‘scuz me, sorry”) when I answer. Sometimes she asks for someone, possibly a woman’s name, before apologizing and hanging up. She sometimes leaves silent messages on my voicemail. Caller ID comes up with a name and number, the phone book has that name and number with an address and it all matches the assessment roll the city publishes. Weird and annoying.
Commuting joy
I ride Amtrak. Frequently. I use it as an inter-city commuter train. I’m not the only one and after two and half years I’m not even close to being a regular, I’ve met fellow riders who make the daily trip to NYC and have done so for nearly thirty years. There is respect for using the time for work and the cars are usually quiet.
A recent trip was like participating in a guerilla public service announcement to stay in school and use family planning. Picture being trapped on a moving bus as too few, poorly socialized adults play zone defense against their too many, even more poorly socialized offspring: loud talk, arguing, parents swearing at kids, kids swearing at each other, music at deafening volumes leaking from headphones that I can hear through my own headphones, spilled food, running in the aisles, playing with doors, tumbling over their own luggage. The families on overcrowded coach flights the day before a major holiday are better behaved.
Then suddenly it all stopped. Silence at the front. All asleep except one boy who quietly played with his video game and occasionally moved around to look out the windows at the end of the car. No one stirred until almost an hour later when the train pulled into Penn.
Bizarre.
Ross Lonstein
