In Which We Begin Our Rustication

Elvis the Dog: Should have been named Charlie
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Just a driving day today, but one that took a great bit longer than anticipated, mostly due to roadworks (travaux, in French!).  We must have run into a dozen places where there were road works--and let me tell you, around here, they do NOT mess around with roadworks.  No little cones here, cones there, guys standing around leaning on shovels.  Here, they must dynamite the entire road, because it's gone, all the way down to the mud puddles and ruts underneath.  Then they put up cone lanes that meander hither and yon in circuitous and incomprehensible patterns, and then they position flagmen at 1/2 mile intervals to stop the traffic for five minutes at a time while the lengthy parade of cars that had piled up in the other direction during their five-minute stop crawls by, bouncing in the ruts.  Naturally, we never arrived at a one-lane sector when it is the turn of the cars on our side to go.  Tiresome.

We did have an entertaining stop in St. George, where we wished to offload the last of our Canadian currency (all $10 of it) before we crossed the border.  This involved a conversation in French at the visitor's center to find out where we could buy "des sandwiches for une picnic" (that's a pretty easy one, as you can see!), followed by a conversation in the Fromagerie while we worked out the cost of various items to add up to just under the amount we had left. Naturally, my French marks me instantly as an American, so between my mediocre French and their somewhat better (but, that far from tourist land still  mediocre) English, we managed fine.

Then we instantly became "Persons of Absolutely No Interest Whatsoever."

Today was the 8th day I was in Canada, and interestingly, I got to the point where I could remember quite a lot of French.  A testament to my high school French teacher and the remakable capacity of long-term memory.  Also:  I have to say, for the record, that whatever you hear about the French Canadians being unhelpful, unfriendly,and unwilling to speak to you unless you speak French is nonsense.  Our experience was quite the opposite:  virtually everone speaks some English--many people (especially the young ones) speak a LOT of English, and they are extremely nice about any effort you make to speak French, however bad.  Generally, as soon as I started a covnersation in French, they immediately switched to English, and I can't tell you how many times I was complimented on my French--quite undeservedly!  We found the Quebecoise to be extremely friendly and helpful wherever we went, and the two most gregarious people we met were travelers from Montreal.  So I don't know whence the myth arises, but it is a myth.  I can recommend Quebec wholeheartedly as a great place to visit.

You can tell that we were just traveling today by the number of photos I took--or rather,didn't take.  (I averaged about 350 for each of the Quebec days, with a high of about 450 yesterday.  Today, I took exactly one, and that with Tim's phone, as I had neither camera nor phone with me.  The one (included, though it needs some digital touching up) is of a very cute little dog that was attached to the people at the table next to ours during dinner.  He is a Gordon Setter-Cocker Spaniel mix named Elvis (bad name; we decided Charlie would be much better!), and is extremely cute!  He is also extremely wet, as it was raining quite hard about then.  But I would take him home if I thought I could get away with him!  We were quite popular with Elvis-Charlie, too, until his owner's hamburger came and she started feeding him hamburger and fries. Then we instantly became "Persons of Absolutely No Interest Whatsoever."  Alas.

We stopped at the Acadia NP visitor center on the way in this afternoon; saw the introductory film which is completely sappy.  I can recommend missing it unless you have lots of time to kill (or it is raining heavily!).  Main historical point of interest is that Acadia started life as a resort for the extremely rich who called themselves "Rusticators."  This despite the fact that they lived in giant mansions and had pots of money.  (We're talking Rockefellers and the like.)  So if people who come here are rusticators, what they do here must be, we figure, to rusticate, which means that a stay here is a rustication.  So consider us as having embarked on the rustication phase of our trip.

Tomorrow we'll start the tour of Acadia NP; it appears, however, that it's going to rain the whole time we're here--including heavily on Saturday--so the touring and the photos will likely be rather curtailed.  Oh well.  At least we're not camping!!