Five hours on the bus this morning, a comfy bus, the highway on a par with the Trans-Canada, minus the big rigs and RVs and straight bits, plus tolls. No Greyhound-style, stick-to-one-lane for this driver, who cut in and out of traffic as if driving through Graca in a Fiat. I buckled my seat belt.
I stayed in this charmer of hotel in '10, staying up late to watch Sidney Crosby score in overtime to win gold in men's hockey and Cheryl Bernard miss open takeouts in both the 10th end and the extra to lose the gold in women's curling. Here I am again.
How pleasing to walk these old streets, in this gem of a city, a UNESCO World Heritage city. I remember lots of rain, like now. In '10 I shot photos of wrecked umbrellas, I saw so many. Wouldn't you know it, on my first walk just now, the wind and rain damn near wrecked mine.
I'll tell you about the unfinished business when I finish it, tomorrow.
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