Thursday, September 03, 2009

Letter from Ottawa

Dear all. Stop. Ottawa rocks. Stop. Never coming home. Stop. Please send my stuff. Stop.

Our day started at 4:00 am Chicago time in Kingston. Since then we've spent five hours shooting, one hour eating, three hours driving, one hour scouting locations, two more hours eating, one hour sightseeing ... and I'm not good at math but it's now almost 10:00 Chicago time and I feel like I've put in an entire week since I woke up.

But! Our project is swimming along fabulously, everyone here is freakishly nice, I have no idea how anyone got anywhere before GPS devices became standard issue in rental cars, I have no idea how GPS devices actually work but I'm so very, very glad they do, and I've crossed a few firsts off my list.

For instance! I finally had poutine. This Canadian standard is just french fries with gravy and cheese curds. And while it was very tasty, I've never been a gravy person. Though the bowl was conspicuously empty once I got done with it. But only because I wanted to be a polite guest in this lovely city.

I also had a Beaver Tail, which is little more than flat, fried sweet dough slathered with any number of sweet, delicious goo options. It's apparently very Ottawa. And the place we had ours is the very same place Barack Obama had his on his last visit. So he and I are almost exactly alike. Except I support marriage equality.

The Beaver Tail and the poutine places, by the way, are part of this charming street of markets and shops:

Which is not far from this beautiful river:

Which looks like this at night:

It runs by the breathtaking Ch√Ęteau Laurier, which is literally a freaking castle:

Which looks like this at night:

And it's down the street from the not-un-castle-like Lord Elgin Hotel, where I'm typing this as we speak. I'm in one of the corner rooms on that knee-like structure sticking out of the building on the left:

And the people and the history and the scenery and the Beaver Tails and the Lord Elgin are so incredibly fabulous I've decided I'm never coming home. So please send my stuff. And throw in a few bucks while you're packing it up for me. My expense account runs out tomorrow. And I seem to have expensive tastes in hotels. Plus Beaver Tails aren't exactly cheap.

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