Canada 2025, Part X: Records and Wooden Monkeys

 We rolled into Dartmouth that Friday night after dark, because it was another long drive up from Peggy's Cove to get to our wedding-group-rate hotel in Dartmouth. We were tired, we hadn't eaten in many hours, had been on the road since before noon, and still had to make multiple trips to lug all of our stuff into the building. 

The hotel we were in was the Hampton by Hilton Dartmouth, and it was fine enough. We checked in and learned that we were on the third floor of a ten-story or better hotel (I am estimating; in reality, I have no idea, just that it was big), and tiredly moved all of our belongings one by one from the Bronco up to the room, the latter trips with the use of one of those hotel dolly carts. Once we were in, however, we could decompress a little and unpack the necessities like our refrigerator foods and toiletries. 

The hotel room did not have a microwave, and the fridge did not have a freezer. I also didn't think the fridge was that cold, either. But, it was cold enough, I guess. What was important was that the bathroom was large, the bed was comfortable, and we were there.

It was my first time in Dartmouth, or really, the entire Halifax area. The Halifax airport is Halifax in name only, as it's way outside of the city in the middle of nowhere. Per Google Maps, it's 15.6 miles away from the hotel in Dartmouth (I just checked). Fifteen miles does not sound like a lot, and in the grand scheme of things it's really not, but I can tell you that I've flown in and out of Halifax a lot over the years, and it is truly nowhere near the actual city itself. It is in the woods far out past the suburbs and built into what appears to have been a wholly uninhabited area before the airport was installed there, as there seems to be nothing around but farms and open country and then bam, airport.

We had originally planned to find somewhere to go eat once we got into the hotel -- as in, leave the hotel, search for vegan places or vegan-friendly places, and go get food. But, we were so tired and it was nearing 9pm by the time we got settled in that I declared that I was not leaving that hotel room again. I could either make a sandwich and have some ketchup chips or we needed to order something. 

Now, Daisy is a master at food-ordering in new and different places we travel. She's like a ninja at it, honestly. She'll whip out her phone, open up the food delivery apps, and within moments she's finding all of the best vegan-friendly restaurants in the area that are not only somewhat cost-effective but will deliver in an hour or less to wherever we are, no matter the city (or, in this case, country). 

I was not in the mood for any particular type of food -- I honestly just wanted something on my stomach that I could eat cold the next morning for breakfast (again, no microwave) and wouldn't wreck my guts. We had two more days of this trip ahead of us and arguably they were the most important days -- her cousin's wedding day and our day to travel back home. That basically left us with few options -- delivered sandwiches that could be fridge kept and would still be good cold, or pizza. I told Daisy I'd be fine with pizza. I am always fine with pizza. 

Canadian pizza is different; I've had multiple pizzas in Canada from different places, and there's just something about it that hits differently. It's not that they have, like, regional pizzas like the states do (or, if they do, I've not had any of these -- nor have I heard of them) but they're somehow different than rank-and-file pizza here in the US. But, it's a good different; I don't know, it's hard to put my finger on.

So we began looking through different menus for different pizzas for delivery. They all sounded great, but I was also starving at the time. We settled, eventually, on a place in Dartmouth called Stone Pizza and each built our own custom pizzas. I don't remember at this point what I put on mine -- I know it had vegan pepperoni, extra cheese, and onions at the very least, but the other toppings are lost to me now; I was, at the time, deliriously hungry and deliriously tired and I can only remember so much. I also got a side of stuffed pizza roll things.

Daisy ordered a loaded down veggie vegan pizza and a set of vegan cheesesticks.

And we waited. They did call Daisy and ask for our room number so they could bring it right up to us, which I thought was very thoughtful, and gave a window of a little over an hour. 

It was during this time where we found out that there was a channel on the TV in the hotel room that played, apparently, nothing but Star Trek, and so we watched the tail end of a mid-run episode of Lower Decks, and two episodes of Voyager back to back. Some would say those are the worst two Trek series to be stuck watching in a hotel because nothing else is on, and I would counter by saying that Lower Decks is hilarious, and that Voyager is very '90s, and some episodes are definitely better than others, but the series overall is pretty good. 

Anyway.

The pizza was great, by the way; I would not have linked it above if it weren't. I think it wins the prize for the best pizza I've had in Canada. And yes, it was delivered directly to our hotel door -- all I had to do was open the door to my room and bring it in. 

I don't remember much afterwards; we were both very tired and went to sleep -- after putting the remainders of our pizza into our slightly-colder-than-room-temperature fridge, of course. I didn't shower. I was too tired to care.

I next awoke sometime in the 6am hour; I was groggy and disoriented and felt awful. I lumbered to the bathroom where I spent probably a half hour doing, ahem, bathroom things until I felt somewhat like a human again, and then rejoined my sleeping wife in bed. My back was still screaming at me from the hard hotel bed at the Cove Motel, and I was overall intensely uncomfortable and had trouble getting into any sort of relaxing position. I did eventually doze back off for a bit, off and on.

I will also note that when I'm traveling, it is very difficult for me to sleep. After a few days, my body sort of acclimates to wherever I am and learns to sleep there -- or, if it doesn't, it instead shifts and acclimates to me running on severe sleep deprivation and everything that entails. Part of it is the obvious "this isn't my bed at home" feeling, but a part of it is also temperature, airflow, room ambience of light and sound, and...the fact that the cats aren't there with me/us. Now, mind you, the cats don't sleep with us every night all night or anything like that, but a good chunk of most days/nights I sleep in the bed at home, I have at least one cat. Pete and Gary are my most common sleeping companions, both of them wanting to get right up on me and snuggle in tight -- but Mable, Hank, and even Empress have been known to snuggle up to me too, usually during the day when I am sleeping during the work week. About the only cat who chooses Daisy to sleep with over me almost exclusively is Charlie, who loves his mom so very much. 

Even if they're not sleeping with us, the psychological comfort of knowing they're there, in the house, safe and sound with us is a big thing too. Yes, we can look at them anytime from our phones because of the cameras we have in the house and know they're okay, and that does provide some comfort, but knowing you're over 1,000 miles away is the sad part of that.

I should note at this juncture that our catsitter was wonderful the entire time we were gone; she was at the house every day for an hour or more (we know because, again, cameras), and made sure all of our children got food, treats, attention, and their medications. She was even able to give Hank his eye drops, which to me is nothing short of miraculous because Hank is notoriously a scaredy-cat and does not like to come out and socialize, most of the time, with anyone but us. Yet, when I'd boot up the camera when I knew she was there, I'd see Hank and Emmy lounging with her, Gary on her lap, and the others also wandering or lounging about. 

But it's very clear they missed us, a lot. I'd check notifications for movement in the house from the overnight hours the next morning, and I'd see stuff like this:

My son, Gary, looking for any sign of life from either of us instead of the robotic movement of a security camera. 

Anyway, moving onward.

Daisy eventually got up that morning -- slowly, as she always does -- and began to get ready for the day.

You see, it was early on Saturday morning, and the wedding wasn't until 5:30 in the evening, 20ish miles away. That meant we had the entire day before the wedding to explore the Dartmouth downtown area, the waterfront shops and streets, and the waterfront itself -- plus get something to eat at one of the restaurants she wanted to go to, and just...be. Just exist in this little seaside city.

We also had one major goal that day too -- and it was one we had before we even left Omaha -- go to Renegade Records.

I have mentioned here before, and I was not quiet about it while we were on this trip, that one of my biggest goals for this trip was to find somewhere, anywhere, that I could buy as many of the albums by The Tragically Hip as possible, as those records are unobtainium in the states. It did not matter if they were new or used, but I figured I'd have better luck at a used music store. This was part of why I'd brought so much cash with me to Canada -- I wanted to use it, primarily, to buy as many Hip albums as I could find. And in rural Atlantic Canada, it is really hard to find any store anymore that actually sells CDs. 

I did not know this going in. I figured every Walmart had a large music section full of CDs, just like they do here in the states. Not only was I wrong, I was very wrong for almost every single Walmart we visited. Not only did these Walmarts not have a music section anymore, but in most of them their DVD/Blu-ray section had also been very significantly scaled back. What replaced it? Video game stuff, and cell phones/accessories. Headphones, printers and camera supplies. I was stunned.

In the one Walmart I did find that still had a music section with CDs in it, it was a very small section of only the newest albums by the newest performers -- and they didn't even have the new Taylor Swift album that had been released a week prior (that I'd preordered and had waiting on me once I got home, by the way). In that music section, of course, there were no Hip albums. I was beginning to get frustrated, but all the while, I knew that Renegade Records was still going to be a thing.

Renegade Records, as mentioned, Daisy had researched before we left Omaha. They are a used music shop in Dartmouth, with wall to wall racks of new and used CDs by pretty much any artist you could ever think of. I looked at the pictures of their shop and their reviews, and figured if there was anywhere I'd find Hip records, it would be there. But Dartmouth was far away at the end of our trip at the time, and it was an afterthought of sorts until it became very apparent throughout the course of our trip that I would not find these records anywhere else. At that point, Renegade Records became my last, and only, option.

So the plan for the day was set -- head down to the waterfront (which, honestly, wasn't too far from the hotel), hit Renegade Records, get some food, and wander around a bit to enjoy the day. It was a bright, crisp fall day -- not a cloud in the sky -- and for a Saturday I was really surprised that not a lot of people were out and about. Of course, there were people, but when I am in Canada -- especially more urban parts of Canada, I am reminded that Canada only had about a tenth of the population of the United States, and Nova Scotia as a whole doesn't even have a million people in it; meanwhile, Omaha's metro area alone has well over a million people in it.

Around the time we left the hotel, Daisy got a text from her aunt and uncle -- the wealthy ones from Ontario -- who had come up for the wedding and were actually in the same hotel with us. We had not known this before. We knew they were coming up for the wedding, but didn't know they were already there and in the same hotel. Or maybe Daisy did and I didn't; I can't remember. Anyway, they wanted to meet up with us for drinks in the hotel lobby bar area in the afternoon before we'd all head down to the wedding venue in the late afternoon hours. 

Mind you, I don't drink, but Daisy's aunt and uncle are important to me just as they are to her, so I was absolutely happy to do this, and was excited to see them. So we agreed to those plans, which shortened our timeframe to enjoy Dartmouth a bit. 

Dartmouth itself is beautiful; there is a commercial area with malls/strip malls/big-box stores (which is where our hotel was) right off the highway, but there are gorgeous little residential neighborhoods with winding hilly roads through them, a vibrant colonial-looking downtown area with shops, restaurants, bakeries, bars, office buildings and beautiful murals. 

We found a pay-by-the-hour parking lot that was almost deserted (it's actually on the other side of the building that mural directly above is on) and parked the Bronco in what ended up being a pretty central location to where we needed to be -- down the gradually-sloping hill a few hundred meters or so was the record store, the waterfront, a vegan bakery, multiple bars, and the restaurant that Daisy wanted us to try, the Wooden Monkey.

Dartmouth itself has its own pop-culture history, of course -- it's where Trailer Park Boys is and always has been filmed, in a trailer park on the outskirts of the town, and the Boys themselves are of course celebrities in the area and are spotted frequently in and around it. I did not, unfortunately, see any of them while we were out and about on this crisp Saturday morning, but we did find Renegade Records:

And it was as wonderful as I ever thought it could be.

After a quick search, I found the section for The Tragically Hip, and began pulling out disc after disc. There were a few I left behind due to price (in hindsight, I should've just paid the $24 CAD asking price for a few of them, as they are more expensive to import via Amazon) but in the end, I had about ten of their records -- most of them their newer releases, for varying prices of between $6 and $22 CAD. I am guessing the record store's pricing was based on demand for the album itself, new or used, but I honestly have no idea what reasoning they were using. I cleaned out their Hip collection, leaving only one or two discs behind, and took my stack to the counter. It was $138 CAD total, which is something like $103 or so American. I ended up putting it on the card because I didn't have that much Canadian cash left (oh, the irony). 

The CDs were of varying quality; some of the used ones had cases in pretty rough shape but the discs were fine, and others were brand-new and still shrinkwrapped from the factory. In that one trip, though, I'd collected about half the Hip's discography in one shot, but I did not -- unfortunately -- find two or three of the records that I was looking for in particular -- no Fully Completely, no Road Apples. 

Still, I was very happy and content with my findings. Daisy took the paper sack of CDs back up to the Bronco so we wouldn't have to carry them with us everywhere, and when she returned, our journey continued. 

We walked down to the bottom of the hill where the waterfront was; this is where I took a few of the above photos. At the waterfront there is a beautiful park-like area they call the Dartmouth Harbourwalk, as well as the people-ferries that will take folks across the harbour (yes, with a U in it) to Halifax proper. 

Right at the dock where those ferry boats above are, behind that (and you can kind of see it in the photo) was the Wooden Monkey Restaurant, where Daisy wanted to eat -- one of the many, many places in the area that had advertised delightful vegan fare, but one of the closest ones to us physically and very conveniently located where we were actually standing on the Harbourwalk. 

If you know me, you know I'm not a big walker up and down hills, or for long distances -- I'm a house potato; I don't like to go anywhere I don't have to most of the time, and energy on most days, especially weekends, is at a premium. Once I'm out of energy, I'm done and I crash out -- and I don't have much of a choice about it, my body shuts down. This is even more especially true when we're on vacation and we're running constantly doing one thing after another when we're already tired and the sleep deprivation continues to accrue compound interest. 

And we had to be social that evening, we had a wedding to attend. That evening was the entire reason for our trip, and our travels around Dartmouth were burning my Saturday energy fuel faster than normal. I was, essentially, burning the candle at both ends at this point not with a match, but with a blowtorch. 

The meal at the Wooden Monkey was delightful; we both got the vegan donair and fries. I got some non-alcoholic foo-foo drink with mango and orange juice in it that was heavenly, and I could've drank them all day long. 

By the time we returned to the hotel, we had but twenty minutes or so before we were supposed to meet up with Daisy's aunt and uncle downstairs -- which I didn't know we were so tight on time for. I was full of food and had not showered, had just put on the clothes I'd worn the day before. Daisy pushed back our meeting with them a bit and I leapt into the shower to scrub myself down and condition my hair and beard, as I knew it would be the only chance I had to make myself clean before the wedding. 

And then we were off...