THE ORIENTAL/CANADIAN CONNECTION
BADDECK, NOVA SCOTIA
SEPTEMBER 6, 2005

Today my intention is divert from the caravan, only briefly, to examine food and words. When added to bread and mustard they will form a thoughtful sandwich. In the prior post I described a ceilidh, one of many unpronounceable words here, consonant dipthongs and tripthongs, forgetting that Q is always followed by a U, a dictionary of the indecipherable from the region's first occupants, the Mi'Kmaq Indians.

They came up with the word chebuctou (def.-where two rivers meet and look like your sister's cleavage in the moonlight) and then followed that with whycocomagh and wagmatcooq which, when used in the proper sequence, can be translated to, "the green of the mountains blends into the royal blue ocean and you'd better keep your hands to yourself white boy". This was also the first tribe to discover the apostrophe. However, few warriors ever scored above 400 in the math or verbal, failed to get into grad school, and are now almost extinct.

So we'll leave that subject to rest while we question why anyone would eat Chinese in the maritime provinces of Canada. To date, I have found two Canadian/Chinese restaurants, neither of which appears to be prospering. It seems as incongruous as having an Alabama/Szechuan connection, "anyone hungry for moo shu bar-b-que ?"



Relatives in Tucson ?







Do you choose your oriental restaurant because of their catchy names ? One of my favorites is in Tucson, Az. and the marquee features three smiling, squatting, buddha-like characters named wee, went, and wong. The Wee Went Wong Chinese Diner.

In Los Angeles, a clever, enterprising Jewish fellow named his Chinese restaurant, The Ghengis Cohen. Only in southern California.

The name says as much as I want to know




In rural New Hampshire, apparently no one in the Loo family was able to enamor any member of the Win family, as they named their place.......
The Win, Win, No Loos, Chinese Buffet.

If you are ever in Anchorage, Alaska and have a taste for almond chicken and shrimp-fried rice, pay a visit to The Hard Wok Cafe.

Back to the subject, Sunday we visited the Bell Museum and it would have been a bigger hit if we had been allowed to make free phone calls anywhere in the world. On Monday, we (Lynn, me, and the two dogs) drove the entire perimeter of the Cabot Trail, a distance of > 180 miles. Although in 1955, PeeWee Schwamborn described it as the "dusty driveway", it is today a stunning drive with only slight improvement to the road conditions.
(full disclosure: this blog has already been placed on notice by the NS Tourism Council. Even though no gag order has been issued, I have been advised to seek legal counsel).........soooo,

The scenery is spectacular. Villages appear to be taken from Cape Cod. The road along the northwest shore is equal to Highway One, the Big Sur, in central California. Sections near Cheticamp have cows grazing gracefully along unfenced bluffs. It could be transplanted from the west coast of Ireland. The Cape Breton Highlands Park rivals our Great Smoky Mountains, without Gatlinburg. Everyone has treated us like royalty as if they are truly glad to see us here. Did I mention that there is almost no litter on the roadsides, not only here, but in most of Nova Scotia. Why do the natives insist on maintaining this stunning environment....where are the wal-mart bags wafting from the barbed wire, silent sentinels to the wind ?


From the top of French mountain,
looking north










At Joe's scarecrows, a Cheticamp
institution, recommended in the NYTimes
travel section










Caught again trying to suppress
latent fiberglass urges.












There, that should get me a reprieve until we reach Prince Edward Island. Sadly, I'll hate to leave, there is no more beautiful place on earth.

Look forward to the next post where we sail the Amoeba around Baddeck Bay and then head to the ferry for PEI.

And if I did ever own an oriental eatery, I'd call it Charlie's Chin Rest.