Montreal turned out to be uber trendy. Our hotel, which we thought was a lovely quiet boutique moment, turned out to be a be-boppin discoteque full of French speaking Canadians clad in black. Who knew Canadians were so trendy? I hate to admit my ignorance, but I thought that Canadians mostly wore snow shoes and traded beaver pelts, but it turns out that our northern neighbors have waaaaaayyy upstaged us in terms of the cool factor.
I don't know if I've mentioned it yet, but Bails and I have turned our delightful chariot/mobile home into a scrapbook on wheels. The back is covered in bumper stickers which are a bit too heavy on the representation of Tennessee and Vermont, the only states with real pride and well-stocked gas stations. So, in Montreal, we were on the hunt for something to stick next to our Ben and Jerry's "If It's Not Fun Why Do It?" sticker. I was twirling the postcard rack in a souvenir shop when all of the sudden I bumped something, which bumped another something, then another, and so on, until there was a pile of shattered BONGS on the floor. I ask you, if you have a rack that twirls, shouldn't you ensure that it has the freedom to do the very task God intended it to do, ie, TWIRL?! More importantly, what souvenir shop sells bongs?! After an intense stand-off with the French Canadian man behind the counter, I ended having to, yes, buy a bong. My first and last. But, I tell you, I don't blame myself, I blame Canada.
After Montreal twas on to Niagara Falls. (Driving from Montreal to Niagara for the day is like driving from Houston to Disney World for the day...the valet man at our hotel in Montreal's reaction to our plan: "You girls are nuts.") I must say, the falls were cool to see, but the whole thing was a bit odd...we determined it to be a 1950s casino on an Indian reservation.
After spending the night with Bails' darlin friend, Jo, in Syracuse, NY (our college tour continues!), we drove down to Philly to stay with my best friend, Berkley, from Baltimore days of yore. Philadelphia is a very cool town full of streets with names like "Passyunk" and "Moneauk"...could never live there, I would never be able to find a darn thing with crazy talk like that. I also would die of a heart attack from Philly cheesesteaks, which we Berkley taught us to order with "whiz" or "no whiz" and "with" or "without"...ie, yes or no to cheese whiz and onions...we got "whiz with" after Bezerkley assured us that the cheese whiz was the authentic kind out of the aerosol can.
Last night we were in Chapel Hill, NC with my friend, Charlotte, from Buenos Aires. It was SO great to see her...we forced her to snuggle up and watch Enchanted and drink wine with us...scrumtrulescent!
Today we went to Charleston, SC but not before stopping at THE most bizarre place on earth, Dillon, SC. Dillon is one mile south of the NC/SC border and boasts an amusement park aptly named "South of the Border," which is actually a small town based on a highly un-PC stereotype of a Mexican man named "Pedro." (As if that is not enough, the town also features a mock African village, just to ensure that all marginalized cultures are properly insulted.) While horrible, South of the Border is also wildly entertaining, and a definite highlight of the sojourn so far.
Charleston was beautiful. I would love to go back and spend some more time there. We spent a few hours there wandering around. Talk about a place that knows how to preserve it's history...I gave it Flav's Stamp of Approval...no need to tar and feather any tacky developers in that town!
Then we moved on to Savannah, where we are now, staying with my best camp friend, Audrey, from when I was ages 8 thru 13...blast from the past! The first time we met she was an 8 year old Linda Richmond from Coffee Talk impersonator, giving me advice on things like Ace of Base (I was listening to musical soundtracks exclusively at that age). I have a feeling Savannah might be new favorite spot, right up there with Boston, but I'll keep y'all posted...
You know you love me,
xoxo
gadabout girl
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