Oh, Canada

In the nearly sixteen months since the last post, life has changed a bit while somehow also staying the same. I got a Twitter handle and published a few papers, but the Lancaster household hasn't acquired any more cats. And truthfully, I've only used Twitter to keep up with like-minded people and to join the club of academics who tweet when one of their papers is published. I'm much more of a lurker when it comes to the social realms of the Internet. Exhibit A is my proud twelve year membership at AntsMarching.org with only one forum posting to date but a meticulously curated profile of every Dave Matthews Band show I've seen since 2000. Why? Because I like hoarding stuff and avoiding conversations with people who proclaim themselves fans of the Dave Matthews Band.

In some very real ways, it's been a rather turbulent year. To "get away from it all" in the most literal sense possible, Megan and I went on a four day cruise to Canada last week. Well, we barely made it east of Maine, but transactions still took place in Canadian dollars (most of the time). To drag out the dreadful drone of our usual daily existence as much as possible before boarding a cruise ship in New York, we chose to fly into Newark. There's nothing quite as disappointing as watching your dramatic descent into the NY metro area from a window seat and then dying a little on the inside when the plane turns to give you an excellent view of Staten Island and then lands beside the 12-lane turnpike in Jersey. To be fair, this is also the airport where I had to learn how Southwest boarding works on the fly after an airport bartender spilled someone's Long Island Iced Tea on me in what I refer to as a "carbonation-related explosion." It's really not a "shaken" drink, and if you insist, you really shouldn't dump in the cola first. Newark never really had a chance after that.

The hourlong train delay on the way into the city didn't really help things either, but all that was okay because I can always order a late breakfast at any given midtown diner. And there was no way we could schlep our bags on foot from Penn Station to the west side without stopping at one of those dated greasy spoons. There's something comforting about an oversized 20 page menu, even though I only ever get the bacon & cheddar omelette or cheeseburger deluxe.

There is something very surreal about living for several days on a modern cruise ship. It's kind of like living in a Vegas hotel, but instead of seeing the Nevada desert you get views that look like this. I must say that everyone should experience the wind beating your face as you stand aboard a ship cutting through the North Atlantic while listening to Immigrant Song on full volume (headphones help here). It doesn't even matter that you're only a few miles off the coast of North America and nowhere near Iceland; you feel intimately connected to Viking ancestors you may or may not actually have. Plus, aboard the Carnival Sunshine you can do this while sipping a Caribbean Colada and wonder whether that dizziness is caused by the ship's motion through the waves or the well rum floating in that $8.95 coconut-flavored slushy.

Saint John, NB is a rather quaint place. In this photo I'm standing by the river which is actually forced to flow backwards when the Atlantic dumps a deluge of salt water into it during high tide. Megan will be the first to note that I was seemingly annoyed that she insisted on taking five shots of me in this pose. She was quite pleased to show me that this was the only one to feature me with my eyes open. I'm a work in progress. This annoyance was short-lived, because it's hard to suppress my excitement for weather that demands a light jacket in July. I daresay we had found the perfect destination for when the mercury is pushing triple digits down home in the Old North State. One should note that many of the kind people in this picturesque tourist destination will gladly accepted US dollars and quote temperatures in Fahrenheit so Americans can think almost as little as we're required to think back home.

With only six or so useable hours on shore (i.e., we slept in), we had modest aspirations for excursions. A big pink bus showed us around town and took us to the aforementioned reversing rapids. After a few hours of sightseeing, we devoted most of our remaining time to sampling the local beer and accompanying bar food. Beef seems to be a funny meat on cruise ships, because it's the only one that always feels or tastes just noticeably off from how it would be if prepared identically but on land. In other words, it was a burger-plus-ground-beef-nachos kind of day. Even if we weren't much closer to Ireland than in the states, something about seeing the metric system and using coins for dollars makes it feel like you're really close to Ireland. As such, I insisted we end our day in a proper Irish pub. Much to my delight, I found my old friend, Kilkenny. The only two places I've found Kilkenny on the east coast have been in an overwhelmingly overdone faux Irish pub in Times Square and in the even more cartoon-like Grogan's Pub Busch Gardens (of all places) in Williamsburg, VA. My excitement for this moment was so contagious that Megan forgot she didn't like it and joined me in ordering a pint of this Smithwick's-esque ale that goes down like Guinness. A perfect end to the perfect chilly July day.

After another day at sea, listening to Jimi play along to a drum machine in the piano bar and tricking myself into thinking Guy Fieri's Burger Joint was a good idea, we were back in New York. There was a day-long blur involving Penn Station and Newark Liberty Airport before we arrived back at our adorable hometown PTI airport. It's so devoid of activity that Air Force One practices maneuvers there. Finally back home, we have a handful of photos and an annoying pocket full of Canadian coins that no one in North Carolina wants anything to do with.