Warning: This is not well-written and is quite banal. Scroll down for the pictures.

I traveled to Nova Scotia this June, for six days. I drove, in the Grouse, to Portland, Maine and took The Cat ferry to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, which took six hours and was slightly boring. It would have been less boring if one could have gone outside and promenaded on the decks and acted out scenes from favorite Masterpiece Theatres and so forth (this has nothing to do with Leonardo diCarprio), but there was only one small caboose-like outdoor area and it tended to be filled with smokasaurii. I did manage to loose $10 CDN playing slot machines, which I'd never done before, but it lost it's charm quickly. I also watched an abominable movie which made me feel unpleasant for hours if not days afterwards (do not watch "Rumor has It" even if you are trapped on a ferry for six hours). I also drank some tea.

Upon arrival in Yarmouth, I found myself treated to a lovely sunset, enjoyed further by a jaunt to the lighthouse. I stayed in a hotel named Rodd.

In the morning, I headed out on the "Lighthouse Route" – a quite ingenious touristic device – they've turned all of NS's old highways (many of which are byways) into marked driving trails. The Lighthouse Route is spectacular, rimming the Western coast from Yarmouth to Halifax. I'm not sure why people go gaga for lighthouse (maybe because I grew up in a town that has one... I mean, they're nice and all, but...) but there are scads of them. Of more interest to me was the gorgeous landscape. Literally picture-perfect (see below). The colors of the verdant grasses, dark cerulean sky, pink and purple wildflowers and the sparkling sea were enchanting beyond measure. I dallied in many coastal villages and towns, and got quite lost after encountering a bridge out in an extremely unpeopled-seeming rural area. (For some reason, I spent an entire week driving in a foreign country without a map).

I spent the night in Chester, in an Inn. On the proprietress's advice, I went to a local tavern to drink alcohol and watch the second to last game of the Stanley Cup finals. Not exactly my cup of tea, but I figured, when in Rome and all that. And besides, it's too creapy to hang out in inns. I promptly gave myself away as an alien once at the drinking establishment by asking a drunk local who'd chosen to sit down with me if it was halftime. Apparently, there is not a halftime in hockey. Ok, fine.

In the morning, which was Sunday, I loitered outside a church while services were taking place, admiring the moss on the gravestones. (And being attacked by mosquitoes). At the hotel, I had consumed two mugs of weak black coffee profered to me by a honeymooning German woman next to me at the communal table. This was the first coffee I'd had in over a year – oddly, I forgot, when she offered, that I'd given up coffee. Later, I made my way through several other gorgeous towns along the coast and made my way to the big city of Halifax. There, I got sunstroke. I spent far too long looking for a certain hotel, in the sun, on the boardwalk, in black, in longsleeves etc etc. (Again, no map). With sunstroke, I went to the nautical disasters museum (which is not really called that). I had been so looking forward to it, but somehow, looking at hoards of stodgy ship models and shipwreck relics in exceptionally airless and uncooled rooms when you have heat stroke is not as enjoyable as it would be without. So i d id not stay so long as i might have, and instead checked myself in to an insanely (in my terms) decadent hotel (that i could find). (A Radisson, or as it is in my mind, a Radish-son). They had a king sized "sleep number" bed and i can't tell you how much amusemnt this inspired in me. They also had a pool and a whirlpool and these I very much enjoyed. I even talked for some time with a nurse from "Ttronto" in the whirlpool whilst we watched her kids frolic... though i related to the under-ten set more somehow. I hadn't been able to sleep well the night before due to constant fear of falling out of the very very high twin-sized bed at the inn and the fact that the feather accoutrements and the dust aggrevated my allergies (which i just got officially diagnosed, so i get to talk about them, at least a little) and I couldn't breathe. At any rate, I was exceptionally pleased to be in the sterile Radish Hotel with the preposterously big customizable bed and generally far more room than i could think what to do with in a hotel. I had a splendid night... actually sleeping comfortably – fantasizing about buying expensive sheets for my bed at home someday. In the morning, I trotted out of there beaming with pleasure and complacency and promptly fell off a curb, wearing a backpack, and tumbled onto the sidewalk in a miserable heap. I skinned my knee, bruised my arm and twisted my ankle. I think i also shook my brain loose a bit, because I then spent the next 11 or so hours driving, until almost midnight, for no good reason. (well, because it hurt to get out and stand on my ankle). I did make some stops, in Truro, at a goat farm, and at various other scenic spots.

I drove so far that the next day, (when i felt much better, thank you) I had to back track to see what I'd missed driving in the dark. So we won't talk about the afternoon and evening i went in circles (no map). Only that I effectively traveled from Halifax to Truro, then to Digby, spending some time in the town of Annapolis Royal. I went all the way down Digby Neck and almost got on the ferry to hop to the islands when I realized I had no cash on me. But the neck was nice. Eventually, I made my way back to Yarmouth. There is no vegan food in Yarmouth, just so you know. But lots of very nice animals.

This is not a very clever travelogue. I should just look at the pretty pictures if I were you.

-annie