OCanada

 Day Two

We got up in St. Stephen, packed, and grabbed a latté for the road for me, and a chicken sandwich for later for Fred. I had packed energy bars ahead of time for my lunches on the road. My "grabbing" of these items was more like a procurement as I was hostage to the Something's Brewing Café for close to 40 minutes. I ordered the coffee at 11 am... but the one employee took orders from three other women behind me who also wanted chicken salad. Much chit chat ensued among the women and the employee... when finally he got around to making the sandwiches. When I heard the chopping of the celery I realized he was MAKING the chicken salad... it was now 11:20. At 11:32 another employee entered and he asked her to make my latté! Fred was fit to be tied waiting in the car, but I'm easily distracted with the NYT crossword archives app... I don't let waiting get the better of me.  

Finally, off for the three hour, forty minute trip to Wallace, on the eastern shore of northern Nova Scotia, in the general vicinity of where some of Fred's ancestors come from — but not RIGHT where they're from since the AirBNB we wanted (because it is AMAZING) was worth a bit of a drive. 

Because I'm severely geographically challenged, I find maps extremely helpful and fascinating — but also easily forgotten and needing to be re-viewed over and over again for it to sink in. People around here say "up in Maine," which was super baffling to me until I realized why. There are, indeed, parts of Maine that are north of here. It could also be a sort of reverse expression from calling Maine "Downeast." See below. The red star is where we are now.  (That's Newfoundland in the upper right.)

A few sights along the way. Sackville is the last town in New Brunswick as you travel north into Nova Scotia. (I think.)

Lilacs everywhere, often belonging to no one in particular. I don't ever let myself pick them for two reasons:  My motto — What if everyone picked all the pretty blooms? Where would we be then? And ... Fred's allergic. 

Too worn out to shower... we went to dinner bedraggled but content. Wiley's by the Wharf is just down the road. Fred jokingly used the word "wicked" and said we were from Boston, which brought the chef out to deliver our food. Maybe because Fred had the chowder... or maybe the chef is just into Boston. The food was GREAT, but sadly too expensive for us to go every night.

Fred at the "house."