9/3/11

Mr. Fish.

Sandi is the official map studier, route impresario, motel booker, and meal planner, and she is very good at her job. (I have a single job: driving.) On King Road in Shelburne is a little place we would have gone out of our way for but didn't have to: Mr. Fish, right off Route 3. Now how can you pass up a place, good OR bad, named Mr. Fish?


The prices are, of course,  in Canadian money, which I guarantee you made no sense and I never figured out. You've got ones (loonies) and twos (toonies) made of metal, and fives and up made of all different colors of paper. The pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, and fifty-cent pieces all have weird scenes etched into them: a rabbit, a fish, a goose, a moose, a wolf howling at the moon, kings and queens in profile, a Canadian astronaut (!), a knight wearing a Smoky-the-Bear hat and riding a horse, two guys in a canoe with a cooler full of beer between them, and, I swear, a beaver with its behind hanging over a log using a maple leaf for toilet paper. It's no wonder Canada is a third world country: no one can make heads or tails of their tender, never mind the fact that they barely speak English.

Good fish, though, even if it did set us back nine toonies, three loonies, a Canadian astronaut quarter, a Queen Victoria nickel, and three wolf-howling-at-the-moon pennies. It was worth every wolf penny.


Arriving stunned at the Grandview Motel, Black Point, Nova Scotia.


Going back in time. We loved it:


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