celebrating the everyday exquisite and the unanticipated updrafts that keep me aloft.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
And you thought the Filet-O-Fish was a bad idea. McCrustaceans take it to a whole new level of horror. Or maybe it sounds good to you--maybe you prefer your lobster with Diet Coke and fries, Super Sized. Maybe you need a trip to Nova Scotia. I think everyone needs a trip to Nova Scotia.
Can I tell you I love this place? And not because you can get lobster at McDonald's. Mostly because you can keep driving north and east until you come to Cape Breton Island, the kind of gorgeous unspoiled place that you didn't think exists anymore. You could stay in a little town like Mabou, where you can't find fast food for fifty miles in any direction. The inn where you stay could loan you a couple of kayaks or two bicycles tomorrow so that you could feel the slightly salty breeze in your hair while you pedal anywhere or paddle nowhere in particular. You could watch an incredible sunset and sleep through a sunrise and eat crisp local apples with sharp white cheddar for lunch.
Hopefully the Red Shoe Pub would serve fresh scallops with bacon and creamed peas again and you could stomp your foot while you ate. Because everyone stomps when the teenaged fiddler with the flying fingers cranks up the tempo. It's the only way to keep yourself from pushing your seat back and dancing on the table. And you could go to bed wondering why you think you need a Target and a cell phone and a three car garage and a Jamba Juice.
You'll want to find the person who first told you to hurry up or life would pass you by and tell them this: If I hurry up, I might pass by life. The drive through window does not appeal to me--I'm not interested in fast-lane McLife. No thanks. I've got time to walk in and sit down and order the fresh catch of the day. I want it cooked slowly, and served with live music. I'm in Nova Scotia. And when I get home, I hope there's a little Nova Scotia in me.