Tuesday, December 27, 2011

O, Canada

From Mar 10, 2010
I enjoyed a nice little trip to Canada a few days ago with a friend. I ate some poutine (which is an acquired taste; in other words, I didn't care for it) and went to the most-awful dive bar ever. It was AWESOME. Seriously, there is nothing like a good dive bar. This one was complete with dirt in the corners, weird locals in shorts (it was in the high 40s), cobwebs on the walls, foosball, computer word games, and obscenely named drinks. I wish a clone of the place was down the road from me.
The obscenely named drinks made playing the computerized word games more challenging. Since my friend and I both think we're the supreme gods of Boggle, the "collaborative" rounds we played became more of a challenge, a throw-down of vocabulary, if you will.
The locals added some interesting dynamics to the evening. We got roped into a conversation with the guy in shorts and a winter coat (I thought the coat was a nice touch). It was a very weird conversation, to say the least.
Though a lot of my background actually is Canadian (sorry, dad, but the French is way too far back there to count), I don't know that I am true to that heritage. After all, I don't see the appeal of poutine. Fries with gravy? How about ketchup, instead? And why does there have to be cheese in it? Did someone have a weird mix of leftovers once and threw it together to create a regional dish? However, it's fun to cross a bridge or drive through a tunnel and be transported to a whole different world, country, whathaveyou.

No comments:

Post a Comment