Day 8 - O Canada! Our home & native land

08:45
My alarm wakes me for the first time on this trip. Solid. It’s early though. I peek past the curtain, and it’s still fully dark. Looks cold as well, though I’m not sure why. I get packed up quickly, and checked out. I just miss a tram at Nicollet Mall, which is frustrating, as at this time of morning, they’re only due every 15 minutes. There’s a brisk breeze, and my prediction of cold is correct. This is all good practice for arrival into Winnipeg, which is several shades frostier than Minneapolis at the moment. I’m sad to leave Minnesota. I’ve never not enjoyed my visits here, but this time has been particularly enjoyable as I haven’t had to weave in some work amongst my fun-having. I’m ultra excited to visit Canada though. It’s been high on my must-visit list for years, but until more recently, I’m not sure it’s somewhere Vicki would have signed up for. I’m just dipping a quick toe by way of a forward party, and i suspect the pair of us will be back in the not too distant future.

Minneapolis airport HAS changed a lot. It’s significantly less efficient than it used to be. The TSA queue and security checks take nearly half an hour, where it used to be a 5 minute breeze. I pop into an airport restaurant for a decent but overpriced breakfast. I will NOT miss US prices. I *think* I’m going to find Canada a lot more reasonably priced, based on what research I’ve done. Certainly hope so…
15:30
The flight’s an up and down. As soon as we reach cruising height, we start our descent. That’s fine with me. It’s been a largely forgettable flight. Arriving into Canada, I’m stunned but not surprised by the friendliness of the border staff. Asked what the purpose of my visit is, I declare tourism. The border guard asks where I’m going on my trip. In the US, that’s normally a chance for the TSA folks to catch you out, to give you a hard time. Arriving into Canada, I feel like the guards are actually interested in where I’m going. One actually offers a recommendation in downtown Winnipeg.

My bag arrives on the carousel moments after I arrive there. I make for the front of the terminal, aaaaaaand. FUCKING HELL - THAT’S COLD. It’s not a surprise, obviously, and yet the sheer force of the cold takes my breath away, literally and figuratively. The bus stop is only 20m from the front of the terminal, but it feels a lot further. It’s snowing pretty heavily, but the word that rings around my head is tundra. The wind whips the snow across the road in front of the bus. I board, dump my bag, and attempt to use my card to pay for the fare. After two failed attempts, the driver wishes me a happy birthday, and tells me to sit down. The 30 minute drive into the city centre is fascinating, and lets me see a number of different sides of the city.

I jump out on what seems to be the closest to a ‘high street’ that you get around here. It’s only 200m to my hotel, but by the time I arrive, I’m beyond windswept. Check-in isn’t until 15:00, but they have a room available for me straight away.

My room is amazing! Huge, with a big, sheet-glass window overlooking the river. The snow is intensifying. My plan this afternoon had been to wander around some of the waterfront neighbourhoods, but I’m growing less convinced this is a brilliant idea. I’m trending towards something of a bar crawl around some of the downtown neighbourhoods. I put the question to my Facebook people, and the result is a resounding BAR.

I set out to the South, walking alongside the river. I gradually pull my neck warmer further and further up around my mouth. The wind is biting cold. I pull the hood of my coat up as well. This is more by way of a wind break, as the shocking cold of the wind is nipping at my cheeks. I nearly come a cropper a couple of times, largely because I can’t entirely see where I’m going, and the snow on the ground is hiding steps up and down from me. I visit a skate park, that in weather like this, just looks weird. I walk past the Human Rights Museum, which I’ll visit properly in the next couple of days. The building itself is striking to look at. I stop in at Forks Market, where there’s a wonderful craft beer taproom. Smugly, I order a first and a second beer.

From here, I head back towards the city centre, and stumble (literally) across another taproom called Devil May Care. They have a few very tasty sounding beers, so I settle down to try them.

21:30
As it darkens, it cools further. From DMC back to my hotel is a 25 minute walk, so I decide to break up the journey with a further pitstop - a pub called The Local. The bar staff are incredibly welcoming, and I end up spending far more time chatting to them than reading my book. There’s a Happy Hour until 17:00, but a kind kid (he’s 24…) called Jacob rings me up a couple of beers at the HH price to have after 17:00. It’s just that kinda place. I chat to Michelle about her forthcoming family vacation to Cambodia and Vietnam. I somehow get embroiled in a ‘who’s your favourite band’ discussion, and am pleasantly surprised by the answers of this group, who’s average age is in the low 20’s. It’s great place to pass the time. It’s not super busy, but there’s a hum of happy conversation throughout. I have to remind myself it’s a Monday night.

Around 19:00, I decide it’s time to head onwards. I’m hungry, and whilst the burgers I’ve seen served at The Local look great, I fancy something with some spice. There’s a pub/bar opposite my hotel. The 10 minute walk is bitterly cold. I’m wearing the bottoms of my thermal underwear today, but think I’m gonna break out the top half tomorrow as well. Arriving into The Pumphouse, the temperature difference is stark. They have a sour cherry cider on draft. Sounds fun. I order some birria beef tacos, which are great. I greedily slurp the leftover birria sauce straight from the bowl. I watch the first half of a Winnipeg Jets ice hockey game. I’ve never quite fallen in love with ice hockey. I’ve been to a couple of games in the UK, but never an NHL game in North America. In Canada, there’s an almost religious zeal to the following of hockey. I think there’s a home Montreal game while I’m there, so I may finally pop my cherry. Speaking of - I reach the end of my sour cherry cider, and am oh so tempted to order another. It’s been a LONG day though. I err on the side of sensible, and head back to my room to chill. Well, warm actually.Leer más