rfmcdonald | [NON-BLOG] Randy in Ottawa (Reply)

I took a taxi over at 8:30 am to the VIA station. The train was supposed to leave at 10 o'clock; instead, it was 45 minutes late. On the plus side, I was able to cash in the discount for my train's late return from Toronto on the 18th of January--the extra 23 dollars was nice. So was the 50% rebate on the Kingston-to-Ottawa trip.

For the first part of the trip, I read my medieval devotional drama articles and napped. For the second half, I chatted with my seatmate, opening the conversation by mentioning thoguh that I never read Margaret Drabble, I had read works by her sister
A.S. Byatt. It quickly turned out that she was a researcher with the Disraeli Project, and we began to talk about the project. I didn't take the English 896 editing course, but I knew people who did. Disraeli is a fascinating figure--in many ways, he (an Englishman of Jewish background, as both those terms were defined in the mid-19th century) prefigures Britain's early 21st century multiculturalism.

By the time that the train pulled into the Ottawa train station, we'd agreed to meet later. In the meantime, she invited me to share a taxi with her downtown, to her destination at the Chateau Laurier. The cab was a Bentley, of British make, a stylish black vehicle built like a tank with a diesel engine but providing a wonderfully smooth ride.

It was a brief five minute walk north to the National Gallery of Canada, walking north along MacKenzie Avenue. (BTW, I also think I ran into a former Chrétien minister en route.) Once inside, I checked my kitbag and coat at the coat check, and walked further into the gallery. I was hungry, so I had lunch--Atlantic salmon with vegetables, and a capuccino--at Café l'Entrée. The view of Parliament Hill and the Ottawa River was spectacular, as was the food. I then joined a tour group that went through the Canadian segment of the gallery, on the first floor.

It was fun to see works I'd only seen in reproductions, on posters or in text books, elsewhere: Alex Colville's To Prince Edward Island andCouple on the Beach">, Robert Harris' A Meeting of the School Board Trustees, Tom Thomson's The Jack Pine. The Inuit gallery, too, was nice. I was particularly fond of Osuitok Ipeelee's 1958 drawing Eskimo Legend: Owl, Fox, Hare, David Atchealak's remarkably lifelike sculpture Drummer (made of bone, stone, antler, sinew, and sealskin), and the almost surrealistically beautiful sculptures Qalupiluk by Manasie Akpaliqak and Sea Spirit Camp by Qaqaq Ashoona.

My favourite area, though, was on the second floor, with the 19th century art: Camille Pissarro's 1875 Rue de l'Hermitage, in Pontoise, Edgar Degas' At the Café-Concert, Van Gogh's 1889 Iris, Gustave Courbet's 1866 The Cliffs at Étretat and 1872 The Waterfall, Hunt's 1856 portrait of the famous Newfoundland prophet Henry Wentworth Monk, prints by Monet (the 1871 Civil War etching, of the Commune, was evocative), Canaletto's early 18th century paintings of Venice, of course, West's The Death of General Wolfe. The quietest yet most impressive work that caught my eye, though, was Blechen's Young Oak Tree, so oddly and pathetically realistic. (And the JPEG doesn't do it justice.)

I left the Gallery at 3:30. I need time to do a more in-depth survey, of course, but it's enough for the time being.

(Did I mention that the admission was free?)

For the rest of the night, I intended to explore on foot the eastern portion of downtown Ottawa, in the immediate surroundings of Byward Market. it's a very handsome area, full of nicely restored buildings in stone from the turn of the century with interesting shops inside. I got a beavertail (a traditional one, with cinnamon and sugar) before I wandered into The Bay, just browsing. Later, I bought some singles at a HMV in downtown Ottawa, including two by Tatu. (We must support our young lesbians. Particularly the attractive, ambitious, sexually confused ones.)

Supper was a lamb-and-vegetable couscous from Yayora Express in the Byward Market, and more wandering followed. I visited a few bars and had some drinks, soaking up the atmosphere. Later, from York Street I walked west towards the Rideau Canal and Winterlude. I actually walked on the Canal for a spell, although the wealher meant that there was a thin layer of slush and water on top of the ice. I crossed west, passing by the snow sculptures (PEI's team did Wolverine, incidentally) and enjoying some fudge and hot chocolate.

I continued walking west from the Rideau Canal, towards Parliament Hill. It was silent at 10 o'clock, the snow falling silently down as I walked past the East Block and the Parliament building proper. After spending some time looking at the Centennial Flame, I boarded a bus at random and went into Hull--Wellington to Pontage Bridge, Pontage to Laurier, Laurier to Saint-Laurent, Saint-Laurent to Saint-Rédempteur, then up to Saint-Joseph. It took me an hour to walk back to the Byward Market area, via Saint-Rédempteur and Sacré-Coeur, over the MacDonald-Cartier Bridge along Sussex Drive. (Nice embassies, incidentally.)

I first read about the hostel on 75 Nicholas Street when I was 10 or 11, in Eric Wilson's children's book Vampires of Ottawa. When I got there at a bit past 11, it turned out that there was plenty of room. And so, I overnighted there, on Bed 5, Cell 4, Floor 6.

The bus ride went uneventfully to the train station, the train from Ottawa to Kingston, and the cab from the train station to Jean Royce. And that's it.