Wednesday, August 19, 2009

North of The Border

From time to time the blower sparks and Thelma tells me "They're callin' from [exhale] North of The [exhale] Border. Thelma keeps up with her nails at work. I don't mind as it makes a good impression on the clients, and frankly, there aren't so many of them--clients or nails--that doing nails at work makes a difference. Plus it keeps her from asking me what she's supposed to be doing to help me which I don't need any of most of the time anyway. I took the call.

The upshot was that there were people who needed talking with up north of where most Maple Leafs set their brakes. I'd been there before and I was game for a do-again, so I told them yes and had Thelma book me the Clipper north, change in Gastown, and then on to the end of the road. Keep in mind here that the Clipper isn't the sort of Clipper me and Dolly-girl are used to when we go to Venezia to visit la familia D'Mestiere. This is the sorta cruise line that serves something in a little bag that looks like salty snacks but are sour as hell. They call them Rocket Chips. They weren't chips and we weren't on no kind of rocket.

There's two things I look for soon as I set foot on terra frosta up north of the US of A. Coffee Crisp, the world's best candy bar, and poutine. I pronounce it just the way the Newshawk told me--poo-tin--and that gets me some good looks from the locals. Newshawk says the people who call it poo-teen call Celine Dion Se-lean instead of Se-linn. I take him at his word.

There's starting to be some places to get poutine in Stumptown, but as I told you a while ago, goats don't have any business around a poutine, at least to my way of thinking and I'm pretty sure Newshawk's with me there. Rouge, I'm not so sure about. She and Dolly-girl got some strange taste buds I'm here to tell you.

I scouted out the joints in the aerodrome and only one was slinging poutine--A&W. Now I hate to buy from a fast-food chain as much as anyone, but what's so slow-food about poutine? You got your murphy nails taking a bath, your chunks of wax, and your Mike and Ike. I told the Missy, "Dish me up one and make it quick." She looked shocked because they aren't used to being snapped at up North of The Border. I could hear and see Dolly-girl; I relaxed.

There's a few other things you gotta like. Jus de Tomate. South of the Border, ours isn't nothing like it --Canada Fancy. While I'm at it, you gotta like two languages. It's a lot easier to pass the time on a Clipper when you got a bilingual tomato juice can. Particularly when Canada Fancy translates to Canada de Fantaisie. I'm pretty sure that Jus de Tomate ain't no fantasie of Dolly-girl's!

And you gotta like Tim Horton's. Tim's is invading the USof A in case you hadn't noticed. I was disappointed that Tim didn't offer poutine, but then poutine on top of everything else he offers might just cause an acute clog of an artery or two."Give me a box of Timbits and a... CODE BLUE!' Dixie'd be all over that one...

You gotta love a country that names towns names like Sandspit. And Germans love to come fishing so the flight postings have German too.

You gotta love a country that provides health care for all its people.

I was pondering all this while wondering how fast propellers go on a clipper like this one. I figured 1250 RPM once using a different camera. This little movie camera can't freeze them.

Well, enough reflecting. The Clipper circled over Kitimat and headed into Terrace for a smooth touch down. I could still taste the poutine and Coffee Crisp and the Jus de Tomate, and, unfortunately, the Rocket Chips, but it was time to get to what I came up here to get to.


Ronna said...

Oh Jack, I love your musings of from the Hinterland. When are you gonna get your and Dolly girl's booties over to the eastern hinterland? There are plenty of poutine stands waiting for us all.

Newsman said...

Bien, tabernak, Jean!
You got the poutine down pat, la!
And, tu as raison, mon vieux, some words just sound more elegant in the langue de Moliére!
À la prochaine!