Local Guide Matthias shows us Bonn's Street Art
One of the best ways to truly understand a city is through the eyes of someone who lives there. Matthias, an enthusiastic and knowledgeable local guide and former police officer, led my friend Marisa and I through Bonn's neighborhoods, stopping at murals, garage doors, and hidden corners where artists have left their mark. His passion for the local art community was infectious.

Meet the Artists Behind the Walls
Bonn's street art scene is powered by a diverse collective of talented artists, each bringing their own style and vision to the city's urban canvas.
Sweetsnini & Joiny create whimsical, imaginative worlds—think fantastical creatures, expressive characters, and playful compositions that make you smile as you pass by.
Maid in Cologne brings pop art sensibilities and bold color palettes to the streets.
Ecb (Hendrik Beikirch) is known for striking portraiture and detailed character work that captures both humor and humanity, usually done large and in black and white.
Dropix contributes stencil art providing social commentary and memorable characters.
Planet Selfie involves someone taking a selfie in each piece of art with vivid colours and is a worlwide phenomen.
SeiLeise features children doing various activities with a retro, memorable style.
Cuts and Pieces provides social commentary on a variety of modern photos and scenes.
R. Kess Wandmalerei is more traditional with large, beautiful murals drawn on buildings and garage doors and fences.
Collaboration-Art (a Duo aus Bonn) are two street artists that create collaborations, building on each other's art to create something bigger.
Baumgartel Thomas Banane uses the humble banana as his signature, with the banana appearing in all of his artwork.

Several collaborative groups also enhance Bonn's street art landscape, including Lackaffen aus Munster and Highlightz aus Bonn along with the interstingly named Urbanshit Gallery.  These collectives and the local galleries bring bold, interesting, personalized, quirky and sometimes provacative art and opinion to Bonn.

A Gallery Without Walls
Any flat surface and a variety of mediums are used in urban art, from spray paint to brushes to stencils and stickers. We saw elaborate murals on apartment buildings, mini masterpieces on garage doors, political and social commentary stenciled on pillars, detailed character work on utility boxes, and everything in between. Some pieces were whimsical and lighthearted, others carried deeper messages. Some celebrated nature and environmental awareness, while others explored themes of revolution, identity, and artistic freedom.  This is not graffiti with letters and tags.  These are serious artists who treat these public spaces as if they were a gallery, and as a result, they have attracted a following amongst art lovers in the city.

Why Street Art Matters
Street art transforms cities, bringing colour to gray spaces and enlivening and enriching the fabric of the citizens who call Bonn home.  You see diverse perspectives and art accessible to the masses.  Many people who appreciate street art would never set foot in a traditional gallery.  It is art for everyone...like it or hate it, it provokes an emotional response, which is one of the main intents of effective art.

Feel free to leave photos in the comments of any street art you have encountered that provoked an emotional response.

My knuckles gripped the seat as the ​gondola pulled away from Blackcomb's base. What I thought that hold on the seat would do if the imminent peril I was imagining happened is a whole other query. While I am bargaining with the universe, my sixteen-year-old daughter presses her face to the glass, in complete wonder and delight.  What began as 28 minutes of pure survival morphed into a lesson in seeing the world through my daughter's adventurous eyes. 

I try to do something each week that pushes me out of my comfort zone. Generally, though, abject terror is not on the agenda.  At Whistler, in the Coastal Mountains of British Columbia, my first meeting was elemental fear. As the minutes unfolded, I was slowly able to relax each part of my body, except my hands...which kept that all-important grip on the seat. Inspired by my daugther's sense of wonder, I did eventually marvel at the rushing waters, the emerald-clear lakes at the base, and the hundreds of mountains visible from the peak, many still snow covered.  British Columbia is rich in natural beauty...everywhere you see mountains, sea and forest.

Eleven minutes up Blackcomb takes you to the first peak.  Then the Peak 2 Peak gondola suspends you 1,430 feet above Fitzsimmons Creek to head over to the second peak.  While swaying across this engineering marvel, you see what truly makes British Columbia unforgettable.  Once I pried open my eyes, I noticed the Coastal Mountains unfolding to the Pacific Ocean.  The clouds are at your face. The mountain streams below wend their way down the mountain.  The skier's paths are used by mountain bikers in the summer, so you can see them careening down the hill with abandon.  At the heights of summer, snow stubbornly remains on the north side of many peaks.  The lakes below are mirror-like and green.  It is completely splendid.

Shannon's pure joy in the adventure permitted me to become the student, seeing the world through her eyes. By the time we were descending the second peak, I was able to thoroughly enjoy the experience.  It helped that we shared the ride down and an engaging conversation with an older couple from San Juan Islands in nearby Washington State.  They took my mind off the heights we were traversing.

Pushing myself felt natural in British Columbia's dramatic geography.  The mountains rise from the sea, showcasing Canada's wilderness magnificence. Our simple gondola rides transported me from initial fear to absolute wonder. The northern landscapes speak to you on a visceral level, pushing you past the mundane and familiar.  They transcend you to a place where you realize how vast the world really is, and how small and insignificant we are...not in a belittling way, but in a more freeing way.

From white knuckles to wonder...in Whistler.  Say that three times fast.  Better yet, go see it yourself.

​



Canada's north is so picturesque, so raw and magnificent, it is almost heartbreaking.  Around every curve, there is a mirror-like lake reflecting its glorious surroundings.  The ancient forests stretch infinitely.  The sunsets are sublime.  Rocks tell Earth's history, with pre-Cambrian shield dating from the birth of our planet, to limestone, sandstone, slate and quartz dotting the landscape and tinting some of the highways pink.  Surprisingly, standing guard over this pristine wilderness are some of the most wonderfully weird, wacky, and bizarre roadside statues we have ever encountered. My 16-year-old daughter and I set off from Sudbury on a road trip to Winnipeg, and in the process saw some of Canada's most charmingly eccentric roadside art.

As we rolled through each tiny town on our northern road trip, Stompin' Tom Connors song "I've Been Everywhere" came to mind...Timmins, Kapuskasing, Hearst, Beardsmore, Nipigon, Marathon, Wawa, Sault Ste. Marie, Blind River, and Espanola.  We were truly everywhere, collecting a gallery along the way of Canada's most charmingly bizarre roadside guardians.  Each giant goose, hobbled moose, crazed wolf, or progressively scarier versions of Big Foot felt like a verse in our own Canadian travel song.  We were welcomed throughout the north by each wonderfully wackly statue's open fibreglass arms.

11 hours from Sudbury, Thunder Bay is the undisputed metropolis in Ontario's north.  Clocking in at 110,000 people, it feels like a bustling city after miles of wilderness and tiny towns, with every restaurant or store you could want.  A gorgeous waterfall called Kakabeka Falls thunders just outside of town, known as Niagara Falls North.  It most iconic landmark is Sleeping Giant, a rocky island in Lake Superior that looks like a monster in repose.  We climbed Mt. McKay for the city views, including a great bird's eye view of the giant. 

A key stop on the Trans-Canada Highway, and the largest port on Lake Superior, it is the gateway to the east and west.  Grain elevators tower over the harbour where ships load wheat bound for distant shores.  Pulp mills process the endless forests into paper.  Hiking the rugged trails, fishing the largest freshwater lake in the world, and boating with the wind are common pasttimes. Lakehead University anchors the city's intellectual life, training the next generation of northern engineers, foresters, and resource managers.

The local OPP officer who clocked me doing 120 in a 90 and kindly knocked it down to 104 was regaling us with stories of removing ten moose from the highway, three black bears, one wolf, and countless foxes...plus one streaking wolverine. The hills are truly alive with some of the continent's most magnificent creatures. Although the only moose we saw were made of wood, we were privileged to encounter a black bear on the side of the road.  My daughter began chatting with it long enough for it to turn around and give us a magnificent photo.  Another roadside encounter involved a coyote, who also engaged long enough to photograph.  There are bear-proof garbage cans at every rest stop and deer and moose crossing signs peppering the highways.  ​As you travel through this untamed landscape, you're humbled by the realization that humans are merely bit players in nature's grand production, where moose, bears, and coyotes command the stage...with Rory playing a supporting role.

Winnipeg was completely different from Ontario's rugged north.  The prairie's vast flatness creates a stage where you can watch thunderstorms building and rolling across the horizon to your left while a gorgeous sun calmly paints the sky to the right - nature's own split screen spectacular.  This is the longitudinal heart of Canada, where Prairie practicality meets such welcoming warmth that every license plate proudly proclaims "Friendly Manitoba".

The striking Canadian Human Rights Museum towers over The Forks historic site, the meeting of two rivers that has hosted gatherings, parties, and concerts for over 6,000 years.  Nearby, The Royal Canadian Mint - housed in its distinctive pyramid of glass - produces every single coin in circulation in Canada, never mind countless coins for other countries worldwide.

We toured the University of Winnipeg's compact campus, and convinced a few varsity volleyball players to scrimmage with us.  They demonstrated a level of play to which we could only aspire.  We also caught part of the Jets' Rookie Camp, occurring at the Hockey for All Center, watching future NHL hopefuls battle for roster spots.  During a client meeting, I was amazed to learn that a million dollars can still buy you virtually any house you want in this refreshingly affordable city. In Winnipeg, everything seems to rise slowly and steadily—from real estate prices to the collective mood of this remarkably happy, predictable prairie metropolis.

Our earthbound adventure was waylaid in the celestial town of Moonbeam. There we sat on the shoulder of Highway 11, watching our front driver side tire deflate very quickly. Brenda, our CAA dispatcher cheerfully informed us it would be "about an hour," which in northern Ontario time translates to "settle in and enjoy the scenery." We walked the dog...again...and again...and again...by the time our cheerful CAA hero, Ben, arrived. He installed the spare and we were off again to catalogue the giant UFO statue nearby.

As our journey ended, with us a little tired and a lot dusty, I realized I now truly appreciated Jason Aldean's song "Flyover States."  While some might be tempted to speed past these small towns and quirky roadside attractions, perhaps consider embracing them and their slower pace, and in doing so, learn the secret that locals have always known.  The real magic happens when you slow down enough to notice.  The wacky, weird and bizarre statues each represent that community's pride, creativity, and sense of humour.  Each monument is an invitation to pause, smile, and remember you are making memories on your way from A to B.  Shannon and I laughed a lot; smiled often; sang along to Cole Swindell, Jordan Davis, and Thomas Rhett; argued some; catalogued with enthusiasm every strange sight; gazed in wonder too many times to tally; were regularly awestruck; and drank in this beautiful country and continent we are lucky enough to call home.

In a world obsessed with productivity, efficiency and speed, maybe we need more giant geese and oversized fish reminding us that sometimes the most meaningful destinations are the ones we stumble upon by accident.  Stop and...hug the giant snowman.

Everywhere you look, people are angry. On the phone this morning, my mom and I were pondering "When did joy become so rare?"  Unhappiness seems the rule in North America.  But after spending three days surrounded by Killarney's crystal-clear waters, lush green forests, and shimmering quartzite ridges, I may have found at least a partial antidote to the general discontent.

That sense of awe...sense of wonder...humbling sense of being completely insignificant in the vast universe...helps me feel joyful on a daily basis.  When I am in nature, the connection to that awe is easy.  Everything else falls away.  This past weekend in Killarney, I witnessed my first bald eagle in the wild, and it was majestic!  Colin from Killarney Charters showed it to us.

Decades ago, DDT poisoning almost wiped out bald eagles.  Due to DDT bans coupled with conservation efforts, there are now more than 70,000 in North America excluding Alaska, and another 250,000 birds in Alaska alone.  The majestic birds typically mate for life, and this one had a baby eagle in a large nest atop the neighbouring tree.  So grateful to see such a sublime creature.  

No question there are major problems on the continent, many of them disturbing and seemingly impossible to resolve.  But individually, at our heart, it we are able to find that deep contentment within ourselves - that unshakeable inner peace - it sometimes starts a positive ripple effect.  Individual mental health becomes collective societal healing.  A sense of resilience reappears, giving us hope...similar to the soaring eagle as a beacon of conservation success.

Wildlife abounds in the park.  We counted 11 turtles during our three days there, of which nine were still slowly making their way through life.  Ranging in size from large prehistoric snapping turtles to the more moderate-sized painted turtles, we became crossing guard for three, successfully herding them across the highway.  The turtles kept the two baby foxes and deer, not to mention countless frogs and chipmunks, company in the rich ecosystem that is Killarney Provincial Park.

The Crack is an 8 km hike that takes you up the spine of the La Cloche Mountains.  From the top, the world unfolds beneath you like a living painting, uncovering vistas of Georgian Bay, Manitoulin Island, Killarney Bay, and the rich green forest throughout the park.  The mountains are white quartz.  When you strike them, they ring, hence the name The Clock. 

What is truly mind-boggling, though, is that you are standing on rocks that literally witnessed the birth of our planet.  They have been around 2.5 billion years, predating dinosaurs by 2.25 billion years and any form of multi-cellular life by a wide margin.  They are truly prehistoric, representing one of the world's oldest landscapes...taking us right back to us being quite insignificant in the grand scheme of life...

It took us about two hours to go up and down.  The last 200 meters is a bit treacherous, requiring careful foot placement and slow deliberate movement.  Starting the hike at 9:30 am on Sunday morning made for a vigorous start to a great day.  Being able to soak up the wondrous view at 11 am was well worth the early start.

The Killarney Mountain Lodge is gorgeous.  Established in 1962, it has been welcoming visitors to Killarney for decades, and its hospitality and friendliness are legendary.  We spent one afternoon moving from the heated outdoor pool to the sauna and back while being served drinks on the pool deck.  We watched a helicopter come and go along with a sea plane. When it rained, we played pool, darts, President and Connect 4 in the Games Room. 

One of the most notable features of the Killarney Mountain Lodge is the spectacular ballroom in Canada House, complete with a bear skin on the stone fireplace wall.  I suspect that bear's spirit has borne witness over the decades to some pretty epic parties.  The staff seemed genuinely pleased to be working there, and the space was charming.  Its sister establishment, The Sportsman's Inn, was where we rented an overflow room and enjoyed two mouth watering meals - succulent nachos, juicy burgers, and a meat lovers flatbread that has my son plotting a return trip.

Killarney is the stuff of dreams.  Even after our departure, we carried with us a piece of that ethereal wilderness deep within.  Our spirits were content, having enjoyed a steady diet of nature for three solid days.

Perhaps one possible cure to anger is time spent outdoors, in nature, away from our screens and the seemingly endless bad news cycle.  On the top of La Cloche Mountains, the ancient rooted us, causing time to move slower and a deep sense of contentment to take hold.  

The bald eagle's successful recovery; s'mores around the campfire; helping turtles cross the road; conquering The Crack; all of these experiences refill our souls and permit us to regain perspective.  We felt fully, joyfully alive all weekend long.  Stepping away from the noise and reconnecting with that sense of wonder, of awe, of being insignificant in the grand scheme of life, was rejuvenating.  Could it be that healing our continent's wounded spirit requires nothing more than rediscovering the Killarneys, where time slows down and as a result, moods improve?

The Windsor Spitfires played a double header against the Soo Greyhounds on Saturday and Sunday.  The barn was packed for both games, with standing room only available and over 4,600 people in attendance.  The weather cooperated, staying above zero both days.  My youngest son was first line defence for the Spits both games so I was happy when the Hounds were vanquished by four goals each game.  After the Saturday night game, we headed to Chuck's Roadhouse, which was completely packed, and enjoyed porterhouse steak with all the fixings.

Sunday morning I trekked the John Rowswell Hub Trail in town.  The snow was three feet deep so I used my core muscles to balance on the one foot wide strip of packed snow all along the first kilometer of trail.  If your foot strayed off the one foot strip, it sank three feet.  The topography was typically northern, with lots of rock, cedar, streams, snow and tremendous rugged beauty.  I encountered about seven people and two dogs all told during my hour hike.  The trail is vast, comprising 25 kilometers of trek looping around the city.  It would be an enjoyable walk in the Spring, Summer or Fall where you could go further and see more.

Delta Sault was lovely, with a hearty breakfast and vistas of the ships in the St. Marys river looking across at Sault Michigan.  The river connects Lake Superior to Lake Huron, and there is a 25 foot drop requiring locks for the ships to traverse.  Despite being closed January to March, there are approximately 10,000 ships that pass through the locks in any one year. The old town boasts a refurbished Canal District where I ate at Blockhouse Pub.  The food was fresh and tasty.  The waterfront trail out front of the hotel and the restaurant is nice, albeit short. ​

Although hockey brought me to town, Lake Superior will bring me back.  In August, the water temperature rises to 20 degrees Celsius, 68 Fahrenheit, to enable comfortable swimming.  There are some spots along the water, including Pancake Bay and Batchawana Bay, that are on my TO DO list.  Considering that Lake Superior contains 13% of the world's fresh water, it is a critically important spot and worth exploring further.  Perhaps my youngest son will accompany me and he can train by running up and down the bluffs at Gros Cap while I swim.

The Vermilion River traverses Sudbury from top to bottom, entering at Sellwood, coming through Capreol, then meandering through Hanmer and Dowling before leaving via Whitefish Falls and Espanola.  It has a sandy bottom and is remarkably shallow in many spots, leaving only a foot of depth at numerous locations.  You can see clearly in the shallow sections of the river although the deeper sections are more opaque.

The river is known for good fishing.  The name means Whitefish River.  There were over 20 different fish species identified in the river a decade ago, and it is a diverse habitat for wildlife as it flows throughout Sudbury.  There is a dam at one end opened over 100 years ago and owned by mining giant Vale, along with numerous indigenous reserves along the river.  There is a continuous current, and the river is known for flooding frequently in the Spring such that it rises more than ten feet to flood the nearby cottages and camps.

The afternoon was about 20 degrees with a light breeze and ample sunshine.  It was a beautiful end to summer vacation.  Although the paddleboards were not as fast as a canoe, they were far easier to carry because everything you need fits into a large backpack, including your paddle, board, pump and fin.  The Vermilion River is a perfect place to paddle, because of the sandy bottom and warm water.  It is a long tributary and has a constantly flowing current so you can enter and exit anywhere along the river and be almost guaranteed a good time.  We certainly had one.

We have run the 5K Foamfest for the past eight years.  They are celebrating their 10th anniversary this year and we were early adopters.  It has been hosted at Dagmar Ski Resort a few times, once at a conservation area in the GTA, at Horseshoe Valley in Barrie, and this year's race was the best yet, right on the beach at Wasaga.  Although walking and running on sand was difficult, being able to jump in Lake Huron whenever we were hot more than made up for it.  The concept of the run is that you have fun[; become foamy, muddy and wet; and encounter 21 obstacles along the five kilometre trail.  Everyone takes it at their own pace and it is always a good time.

We are staying in Kimberley, about 50 minutes from Wasaga Beach, in a converted school house built over 100 years ago.  The space is charming and rustic and the surroundings are beautiful.  There is a pond on the adjacent property where the puppies took a swim.  I could hear frogs croaking, ducks quacking and geese honking while there.  It was very rural and peaceful.  Last night when I walked the dogs, the big dipper was so clear in the sky is almost jumped out at me.  There is no ambient light and there were no clouds in the sky so the stars were bright.  The moon was full and shining.  It was a lovely night.

We ate on the patio at The Iron Skillet in Collingwood last night and it was delicious.  Today we swam in the lake during and after the Foamfest, then enjoyed a great meal at Boston Pizza.  Currently the girls and I are relaxing at the airbnb while the boys, their girlfriends and Daddy are enjoying the beach in Collingwood.  This part of the world is pretty, with promontories from which the vista stretches for miles, old dirt roads that run straight for as far as the eye can see, ski runs, beaches with sand like flour, and a very relaxed, charming vibe.

Our family loves to eat, and there was a live edge table gracing the schoolhouse dining room that we used this morning.  There is a typewriter, a radio, an old fashioned phone, a stuffed hawk, a gorgeous fireplace, and a lovely yard.  The dogs enjoyed running around with the kids on the front lawn.  There were two large majestic hawks circling so we could not leave the little dogs alone outside.  There was also a turkey vulture sitting on a hay bale this morning during my walk.

You get a sense of the promontory we are on when you see the view from the front porch.  There are older trees providing shade and the house is on the corner of two sideroads, so very quiet and peaceful.  The lack of traffic and the slow pace of life here is welcome on the weekend.  Although the community of Wasaga Beach was rocking this weekend due to the Foamfest in addition to the general lure of the world's longest freshwater beach, there are spots that are quiet and beautiful everywhere you look.

Both of my sons indicated they could live in Collingwood given the amenities, the stunning scenery, and the relaxed beach vibe.  The Foamfest chose well this year.

There is a bit of the wilderness in most Canadians.  A hotshot Toronto executive might not feel it every day, but when Canadians surround themselves with nature, there is a peace that settles in along with a wonder.  Whitefish Falls and Willisville are good reminders of that.  With about 300 permanent residents and breathtaking beauty, these two spots are just north of Manitoulin Island, just south of Espanola.  They are about a four and a half hour drive from Toronto, but a world apart.

What you notice most about Northern Ontario is the rock and the evergreens.  They surround you.  Those two components interact to cause most people to take a deep breath and really take it all in.  Couple that with the numerous lakes and you can understand the wonder Canadians hold for the north.  I had never seen wild blueberries before, although they are also a Northern Ontario phenomenon.  People stop along the highways and pick them, and they sell for between $15 and $25 per liter on the roadsides.  When Rory and I began climbing up the Willisville Lookout, they were everywhere.  With blueberries often come bears, but thankfully Rory's mere presence acts as a bear deterrent.

The view from the top of Willisville Lookout is everything you would want from the north.  Grand vistas and big sky; lakes and evergreens and rock; a sense of vastness that makes you as a human being feel small yet somehow content.  It is no wonder that the north inspired the Group of Seven to paint.  There is natural beauty literally everywhere you look, from the bright yellow mushroom growing beside the tree to the blueberries to the white rock face worn smooth over the years from the water to the trees that grow out of the rock.  Rory is my daughter Shannon's Bernese Mountain Dog, and she proved her mettle climbing up to the Lookout.  Willisville is not for the faint of heart.  You head straight up the rocks to the peak where you stand on yet more rocks to survey the bounty below.  A couple with a baby in a bjorn were heading up when I was heading down - they were the only other people I saw on the trail - and I was impressed with their sense of adventure with a baby strapped to their body.

The ChurchMouse Cafe was next on our agenda.  Homemade chicken soup and chicken salad on a sourdough baguette constituted lunch.  The owners bought the church and converted it into a charming cafe before COVID.  During COVID, they built three bunkies which currently rent for $65 to $100 per night.  Another thing to love about the north - most everything is affordable.  The bunkies are simple yet charming.  One of the owners brought Rory water, and when I asked about a hike to an old generating station, her husband suggested Heaven's Gate instead.

Heaven's Gate is a 40 kilometre hike through the LaCloche Mountains.  I only tackled about four kilometres of it, and would definitely return for the full experience.  You hike through beautiful forest, coming upon swamps and rivers and lakes, always surrounded by trees and rock.  I didn't see a soul there during my four kilometres.  It was peaceful, solitary, quiet and calm. 

En route to Heaven's Gate, and en route back, we came upon deer nonchalantly munching grass at the side of the road.  They were nonplussed by me and the dog, although Rory was intrigued by them.  Having lived in a city most of my life, I still marvel at the beauty of deer on the side of the road...perhaps because the deer bring us ever closer to that Canadian wilderness within.

Where would you like to rest for eternity?  For anyone who lives by the ocean, their death usually involves some sort of burial of body or scattering of ashes in, on or around the ocean.  When you live by the Atlantic Ocean, it comes to define you in so many ways.  It is such a big presence and its power and majesty are always on display.  The cemetery in Bouctouche, New Brunswick fits the bill for many Maritimers.  If you believe that your spirit lives on in some capacity or other, then the view of the ocean that is constantly changing and evolving, embracing seasons and squalls and peaceful waves lapping the shore would be a good location for your final resting place.

Bouctouche is a charming east coast town with 2,361 residents, all sitting at the mouth of the Bouctouche River running into the Atlantic Ocean.  The ocean defines the town.  Winter is severe and replete with winter sports, including constant ice fishing and snowmobiling.  In summer, the town comes alive with people seeking the sand and surf of the ocean.  Living in the moment is common, given that the ocean drives the town life.

We rented a car that was too smart for its own good.  Artificial Intelligence postulates that cars will be able to drive themselves sometime soon.  If so, I don't want to be a passenger.  This car would start shimmering and shaking whenever we crossed a dotted line without signaling.  It would turn off at every intersection.  It decided on its own whether the speed control I had set was appropriate, and would arbitrarily slow down at will.  The wipers turned on and off without any prompting from me.  When someone was nearby, it would start beeping incessantly until I moved away.  I wouldn't pay you $10 for it.

With Artificial Intelligence, the theory is that we are supposed to be able to eventually live forever.  Given my experience with the "smart" car, I figure I'll be content some day to be buried in a cemetery by the water while AI continues to irritate my children and my children's children.

The Atlantic Ocean has its own cadence.  There is an incredible feeling when you arrive, like you are seeing something so powerful...so wonderful...so amazing.  It is far bigger than any of the towns that front it.  It must be the vastness and sheer force, but being by the ocean is good for the soul.  It makes you marvel at the large world around you.  It puts things into perspective.

 Shediac, New Brunswick, is a town of less than 7,000 people right on the Atlantic.  Our first stop was Adorable Chocolate, the local chocolate shop.  It boasted chocolate covered wafers, almonds, nut concoctions, and everything delicious.  We ordered one of everything and ate them all en route to the beach, the wharf and the big lobster.

Shediac's giant lobster, the world's largest, is one of the most photographed installations in New Brunswick.  34 years old and still looking stellar, it sits right on the Atlantic Ocean.  You can climb on it and explore.  It is realistic and was sculpted by a local, weighing 180,000 pounds and measuring 36 feet long.  It is surrounded by row houses of varying colours and an attractive seascape.

The Point du Chene Wharf is wonderful, stretching in a long line of colourful houses to the ocean.  In winter, it is frozen and a somewhat bleak vista, but it is obvious how vibrant and enjoyable it must be from the May long weekend to Labour Day in the summer.  There are restaurants and a lighthouse and local fisheries.  There would be boats bobbing in the ocean and people selling food and admiring the water.  Spa services, ice cream, coffee, and incredible sunsets are all on offer.

Our final destination in Shediac was Parlee Beach.  It was frozen when we were there, but in the summer it boasts sun and sand.  You can watch the tides come in and out and play in the parks surrounding the beach.  There is a large campground.  The views of the ocean are marvelous.

Shediac was a charming East Coast town with everything necessary for a wonderful day of exploring.  Fueled by chocolate, the smell of salt water, and the ruggedness of the ocean coast, we left vowing to return in summer.  Experiencing the Shediac shore in summer would leave one with a different perspective than in winter.