I had planned this trip for quite a few days now. I didn't have a lot of funds but I figured I could easily do a few days in Canada for under $300. I hadn't been to Canada since a trip I had taken when I was 13 with my aunt and uncle to my uncle's parents' farm. Now, having more cosmopolitan tastes, I wanted to visit Montreal and experience what Canadian city life had to offer.
I brought my car in to Jiffy Lube the day before departure to get an oil change and to have them check my fluids and all. I didn't have insurance or roadside care so I wanted to make sure my car was fit enough for what would essentially be international travel. I figured the trip would factor in at around 600 miles round trip and roughly 3.5 tankfuls of gas. It didn't help my budget that gas prices had been rising all summer and were at a whopping $1.20/gallon! (LOL from a 2008 perspective, huh?)
I got together several of my favorite cassettes for the drive, not knowing what kind of stuff would be on the airwaves of unfamiliar radio stations. I had just bought Prince's "Batman" soundtrack album and it was my current favorite.
At work, we had just returned back to our usual pattern after taking the residents of the group home on a week-long vacation to Buzzard's Bay a beach resort community on Cape Cod. The trip turned out to be a disaster. One guy got sick and we had to take care of him more than usual, another guy couldn't stop having incidents of SIB (self-injurious behavior) and needed the programmed treatments for such (usually full-body restraints) and the most aggressive of the bunch decided to live up to his reputation throughout the week. I had advocated for a return to the group home but my supervisor recommended we stick it out since the trip was being enjoyed by the other three guys and it would be unfair to punish them for the other guys' behvior.
This agency was all about "community integration" or "mainstreaming" for their clients: adults with autism complicated by either MR, physical handicaps or mental illness...and sometimes all four disabilities in one. This "empowerment" philosophy looked great on paper but it sucked for the community-at-large that had to witness all sorts of embarrassing situations occurring "in public", but it mostly sucked for us staff who were entrusted with the responsibility to provide protection and redirection for the clients, oft-times exposing us to the brunt of their wrath.
Although I was the manager of the group home, it was a hands-on role...and boy, you can't get much more "hands-on" then having to lay prostrate on top of a 250 lb. 30-year-old man, pinning him to an exercise mat so he doesn't bite you or smack your head off (they seemed to never know how to make a fist and punch, thankfully!)
So I was much in need of a relaxing, non-stress vacation for myself and arranged for a few days off once we were back.
I celebrated the first evening of my vacation by doing two things I love: cooking (and eating the results, of course) and drinking beer. I made linguine with white wine clam sauce and added liberal chunks of cooked linguica sausage, green peppers, onions and cayenne pepper. It was delicious. I washed it down with my beer of choice in them days, Heineken.
The alarm went off as planned very early in the morning, before dawn, so I could get an early start on my road trip. Unfortunately I was hungover for the rest of the morning, but I didn't let it deter me from my trip.
I set out before dawn as planned and headed north through Rhode Island, Central and Western Mass and Albany, New York. I had planned that if I saw points of interest along the way that I'd stop there and enjoy whatever it had to offer. I had brought along a tablet of blank paper to use as a travel log, and I made notes along the way. Most of the trip was just woods, or boring cities Springfield, Mass. and Albany, NY, but north of Albany, I saw a sign for Fort Ticonderoga.
I had remembered the historic significance of the fort from high school history classes and was anxious to see it. I got off the main highway and proceeded towards the steep decent into the Hudson River valley. The fort had a small museum and to my thrill, they had a small honor guard in 18th century uniforms and powdered wigs doing drills. The highlight was when they "fired" (with blanks) the cannon!
As I headed north meandering along the riverside towards a road that would eventually rejoin the main highway, I stumbled along another historic fort that I had never heard of before. Crown Point, just a few miles north of Ticonderoga, was another 18th century fort and, even better than it's attraction to the south, I had by chance arrived in the midst of a anachronistic society's annual faire.
There were booths featuring 18th century arts & crafts, demonstrations of handiworks, daily activities of the common folk of the era and a re-enactment battle in full period costume. How cool it was seeing grown men dressed in knickers firing muskets at each other and falling down "dead" pretending it was all real. Some of the "players" really got into their roles too. If you asked them a question, they talked to you in olde-tyme English with all those "thees" and "thys". I couldn't shake the feeling, though, that some of these guys absolutely lived for this chance to roleplay each year. They daydreamt of it fondly as they flipped burgers for a living and went home each night to their lonely bedroom in their mother's basement.
Inside the fort proper, they had hourly concerts by various period musicians. The hour I arrived, the show featured one of my favorite instruments, the harpsichord. The artist chose a selection of lovely Baroque pieces and played them beautifully. After the recital, I made my way along the exhibits in the small museum and I learned that one of the commanders of the fort (when it lay in French hands) was a General Chausse-gras. Interestingly similar last name.
After a fun afternoon in the 18th century, I returned to the 20th and made my way north through the Adirondacks. I marveled at the stunning beauty of this area. The warm late summer sun high the baby blue sky shone down on the babbling crystal-clear rivers and lakes, lush green trees and grasses, rolling hills and softened yet still-majestic mountains. The birds chirped happily as I let the pristine country air flow through the open windows of the car as I rolled along on the gently sloping road. I thought: "If I believed in an Almighty, I would proclaim that I was in the midst of the spot on Earth that God had kissed after he created the Universe."
I breezed through customs. The officers were quick and very polite and I genuinely believed they were earnest when they bid me a welcome to Canada. Their counterparts on the US side during my return though, were total pricks, practically body cavity searching me before letting me back into my own country!
Approaching Montreal I decided I would first find lodging and chose a small motel in the southern suburbs. The rates were good and the room was neat and clean.
I went into downtown and parked. I tried to get a feel for the town by doing a walking tour. I found a tourist information kiosk that gave me all sorts of brochures and pamphlets of things to do. I walked over to the art museum and then later I drove to Mount Royale Park to view the city from on high.
Rather than purchase dinner from a restaurant, I chose to buy items from a small grocery store near my motel. I bought a box of Triscuits, Philadelphia whipped cream cheese with chives and a 6-pack of Molsen Dry.
The next day I checked out more museums and went on an amphibious bus/boat tour. Very cool.
Funny how memory can be quite arbitrary at times. Though I remember the trip's first day as detailed above, even to such minutia as what I ate, I can't seem to recall much else. I know I had fun though. Oh, and I do remember I got 2 parking tickets for some atrocious amount like $CDN50 each or something, which I never paid. I probably have a warrant out for my arrest in Canada, who knows?
After I checked out of my motel I headed home by way of Vermont.
And that was my summer vacation.
The end.
I brought my car in to Jiffy Lube the day before departure to get an oil change and to have them check my fluids and all. I didn't have insurance or roadside care so I wanted to make sure my car was fit enough for what would essentially be international travel. I figured the trip would factor in at around 600 miles round trip and roughly 3.5 tankfuls of gas. It didn't help my budget that gas prices had been rising all summer and were at a whopping $1.20/gallon! (LOL from a 2008 perspective, huh?)
I got together several of my favorite cassettes for the drive, not knowing what kind of stuff would be on the airwaves of unfamiliar radio stations. I had just bought Prince's "Batman" soundtrack album and it was my current favorite.
At work, we had just returned back to our usual pattern after taking the residents of the group home on a week-long vacation to Buzzard's Bay a beach resort community on Cape Cod. The trip turned out to be a disaster. One guy got sick and we had to take care of him more than usual, another guy couldn't stop having incidents of SIB (self-injurious behavior) and needed the programmed treatments for such (usually full-body restraints) and the most aggressive of the bunch decided to live up to his reputation throughout the week. I had advocated for a return to the group home but my supervisor recommended we stick it out since the trip was being enjoyed by the other three guys and it would be unfair to punish them for the other guys' behvior.
This agency was all about "community integration" or "mainstreaming" for their clients: adults with autism complicated by either MR, physical handicaps or mental illness...and sometimes all four disabilities in one. This "empowerment" philosophy looked great on paper but it sucked for the community-at-large that had to witness all sorts of embarrassing situations occurring "in public", but it mostly sucked for us staff who were entrusted with the responsibility to provide protection and redirection for the clients, oft-times exposing us to the brunt of their wrath.
Although I was the manager of the group home, it was a hands-on role...and boy, you can't get much more "hands-on" then having to lay prostrate on top of a 250 lb. 30-year-old man, pinning him to an exercise mat so he doesn't bite you or smack your head off (they seemed to never know how to make a fist and punch, thankfully!)
So I was much in need of a relaxing, non-stress vacation for myself and arranged for a few days off once we were back.
I celebrated the first evening of my vacation by doing two things I love: cooking (and eating the results, of course) and drinking beer. I made linguine with white wine clam sauce and added liberal chunks of cooked linguica sausage, green peppers, onions and cayenne pepper. It was delicious. I washed it down with my beer of choice in them days, Heineken.
The alarm went off as planned very early in the morning, before dawn, so I could get an early start on my road trip. Unfortunately I was hungover for the rest of the morning, but I didn't let it deter me from my trip.
I set out before dawn as planned and headed north through Rhode Island, Central and Western Mass and Albany, New York. I had planned that if I saw points of interest along the way that I'd stop there and enjoy whatever it had to offer. I had brought along a tablet of blank paper to use as a travel log, and I made notes along the way. Most of the trip was just woods, or boring cities Springfield, Mass. and Albany, NY, but north of Albany, I saw a sign for Fort Ticonderoga.
I had remembered the historic significance of the fort from high school history classes and was anxious to see it. I got off the main highway and proceeded towards the steep decent into the Hudson River valley. The fort had a small museum and to my thrill, they had a small honor guard in 18th century uniforms and powdered wigs doing drills. The highlight was when they "fired" (with blanks) the cannon!
As I headed north meandering along the riverside towards a road that would eventually rejoin the main highway, I stumbled along another historic fort that I had never heard of before. Crown Point, just a few miles north of Ticonderoga, was another 18th century fort and, even better than it's attraction to the south, I had by chance arrived in the midst of a anachronistic society's annual faire.
There were booths featuring 18th century arts & crafts, demonstrations of handiworks, daily activities of the common folk of the era and a re-enactment battle in full period costume. How cool it was seeing grown men dressed in knickers firing muskets at each other and falling down "dead" pretending it was all real. Some of the "players" really got into their roles too. If you asked them a question, they talked to you in olde-tyme English with all those "thees" and "thys". I couldn't shake the feeling, though, that some of these guys absolutely lived for this chance to roleplay each year. They daydreamt of it fondly as they flipped burgers for a living and went home each night to their lonely bedroom in their mother's basement.
Inside the fort proper, they had hourly concerts by various period musicians. The hour I arrived, the show featured one of my favorite instruments, the harpsichord. The artist chose a selection of lovely Baroque pieces and played them beautifully. After the recital, I made my way along the exhibits in the small museum and I learned that one of the commanders of the fort (when it lay in French hands) was a General Chausse-gras. Interestingly similar last name.
After a fun afternoon in the 18th century, I returned to the 20th and made my way north through the Adirondacks. I marveled at the stunning beauty of this area. The warm late summer sun high the baby blue sky shone down on the babbling crystal-clear rivers and lakes, lush green trees and grasses, rolling hills and softened yet still-majestic mountains. The birds chirped happily as I let the pristine country air flow through the open windows of the car as I rolled along on the gently sloping road. I thought: "If I believed in an Almighty, I would proclaim that I was in the midst of the spot on Earth that God had kissed after he created the Universe."
I breezed through customs. The officers were quick and very polite and I genuinely believed they were earnest when they bid me a welcome to Canada. Their counterparts on the US side during my return though, were total pricks, practically body cavity searching me before letting me back into my own country!
Approaching Montreal I decided I would first find lodging and chose a small motel in the southern suburbs. The rates were good and the room was neat and clean.
I went into downtown and parked. I tried to get a feel for the town by doing a walking tour. I found a tourist information kiosk that gave me all sorts of brochures and pamphlets of things to do. I walked over to the art museum and then later I drove to Mount Royale Park to view the city from on high.
Rather than purchase dinner from a restaurant, I chose to buy items from a small grocery store near my motel. I bought a box of Triscuits, Philadelphia whipped cream cheese with chives and a 6-pack of Molsen Dry.
The next day I checked out more museums and went on an amphibious bus/boat tour. Very cool.
Funny how memory can be quite arbitrary at times. Though I remember the trip's first day as detailed above, even to such minutia as what I ate, I can't seem to recall much else. I know I had fun though. Oh, and I do remember I got 2 parking tickets for some atrocious amount like $CDN50 each or something, which I never paid. I probably have a warrant out for my arrest in Canada, who knows?
After I checked out of my motel I headed home by way of Vermont.
And that was my summer vacation.
The end.