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We returned to the car and debated whether to take the 401 or city streets out of town. Chances are neither was the correct decision. In the end we opted for the 401, which moved fairly efficiently most of the time. Margaret remarked several times that most Toronto drivers seemed unusually polite as big-city drivers go. They were very willing to let people on at entrance ramps and to make room when people wanted to change lanes. The only problem today on the 401 was accidents. The rain had obviously caused some problems, and we saw at least four wreckers clearing up things at the side of the road. None of the accidents looked all that serious, but traffic bottle-necked every time we reached one.
Once we got past the city limits (which you can tell, because the express lanes stop there), the accidents stopped and while traffic was heavy, it moved efficiently. Margaret complained that the drivers went far faster than the posted 100km/h (62mph) speed limit. In fact, the provincial police are proposing that the speed limit be raised on Ontario's freeways to 120km/h (74mph). There, like here, no one seems to care about raising the speed limit on two-lane highways--which are the ones where I think the speed limit could most safely be increased. Ontario's two-lanes have a speed limit of 80km/h (less than 50mph), which nobody seems to obey. I'd feel a lot safer driving moderately faster (say 60mph) on a two-lane highway than like a bat out of hell on a freeway.
We saw a couple of interesting sights on our way out of Toronto. One was a weigh station. What was noticeable about it was that they had a big overhead camera focused on the main part of the highway to catch any trucks that failed to pull off and be weighed. That camera technology is also the basis behind highway 407, a privately-owned tollroad we crossed at the west end of the city. Local people that the tollroad have transponders mounted on their cars that send an electronic signal every time they use the road. They have pre-paid accounts that are debited each time they drive on 407. For people without transponders, there are cameras mounted at every entrance and exit ramp. They record the license plates of each car and then send a bill for the toll (and a hefty service charge) to the cars owner. If we had wanted to, Margaret and I could have gotten away with taking that road without paying toll, because presently the only U.S. cars they bill are those registered in New York, Ohio, and Michigan. There was no reason for us to take the road, though, so we just continued west.
We exited the 401 at Milton and took a county road (signed "formerly highway 25") south to Oakville, a classic study in suburban sprawl that is almost exactly halfway between Toronto and Hamilton. Toronto is part of a megalopolis that Canadians call the "Golden Horseshoe". It begins at Ft. Erie (which is across from Buffalo, New York) and includes cities like Welland (as in the canal), Niagara Falls, St. Catherine's, Hamilton, Burlington, Oakville, Brampton, Waterloo, Kitchner, Guelph, Brantford, Woodstock, Markham, Oshawa, and Peterborough. Over four-fifths of Ontarios population (and about a third of the population of Canada) lives within 50 miles of Lake Ontario's western shore. That's 9 million people in an area about the size of an AEA region.
All those people mean lots of traffic, which we found out again as we entered Queen Elizabeth Way (invariably called "the QEW") at Oakville. The QEW was Canada's first freeway, and it makes a "U" around the horseshoe from Toronto to Buffalo. Unlike the 401, QEW is never more than six lanes wide. They couldn't really widen it if they wanted to. Near Toronto GO trains run in its median, and further west narrow old overpasses practically scrape the shoulder. We were only on the QEW for five kilometers, but it was stop and go the whole way--and it wasn't even rush hour yet.
At Burlington we switched to highway 403, a brand new expressway that runs past the major steel center of Hamilton and on to Brantford and Woodstock. Hamilton is right on the lake, but its suburbs are high up on a cliff. The freeway seems to climb almost straight up that cliff. Margaret turned off the air conditioner to help her power, and we saw several trucks that were sputtering along with their flashers going, because they couldn't keep up with the minimum speed. It was almost like going up the pass west of Denver, and not something I expected to find in Ontario.
Before long we made it to Brantford, an industrial city of 80,000 that reminds me a lot of the Waterloo I know in Iowa. Our mother (and Aunt Alaire) used to have a penpal in Brantford; we visited her on that 1976 trip I was reading about earlier. While we found out later that the old part of Brantford hasn't changed much in twenty-three years, out by the freeway everything was brand new.
I had made motel reservations at Brantford's Day's Inn. Unfortunately, other than an address, I had no good directions on how to get there. I had attempted to locate the a website that gives maps. Those sites usually work well in the U.S., but I found out here that they are not always accurate in Canada. We reached what looked to be the city's main strip (Wayne Gretzky Parkway--the namesake of my sweater happens to be one of Brantford's two famous native sons), but it was nowhere near the place my internet map showed the hotel should be. So we continued on and eventually found the street whose name was in the motel's address (Fairview Drive). We went west on Fairview (which seemed to be what the map indicated), but the street quickly became residential and eventually changed names (to Tollgate Road). Eventually we turned around and headed back east. Fairview kept switching between residential and commercial, but there didn't seem to be much in the way of motels. The most noteworthy feature on Fairvirew was the Wayne Gretzky Sports Centre, an enormous arena that would put most big-city stadiums to shame. Whether the Great One coughed up the money himself or just started a fund drive, his namesake sports complex is certainly outstanding. Finally, after we seemed to have driven forever, we spotted the Days Inn located--where else--on Wayne Gretzky Parkway. While the motel faced towards Fairview, you couldn't actually get there from that street. It's main entrance was off of Gretzky, and why they don't use that for their address I'll never know.
The Day's Inn was kind of a strange place. All the employees appeared to be of British descent, yet they had an on-site Japanese restaurant and sushi bar. In the stairwell they had a big display of autographed photos of famous people who had stayed here (mostly actors and hockey players--though not Wayne Gretzky) who had stayed here. I had never heard of most of them. In fact, the only one I can remember today is Dr. Hook, a pop singer from the '60s. There was certainly nothing wrong with the Day's Inn, but it was the cheapest place we stayed on the whole trip; it surprises me that all those famous people didn't go for the more upscale places down the street.
As I said before, Wayne Gretzky Parkway is the strip in Brantford. The hotel was surrounded by fast food: Burger King, Wendy's, Taco Bell, Tim Horton's, Fast Eddie's, Pizza Hut, and a couple of places I can't remember. There were two shopping centers in the immediate area of the motel, with a major mall (that didn't look to have much of anything in it) across the street. While Margaret rested a bit, I went out and explored the neighborhood. One of the shopping centers featured another Zeller's. I browsed through there and picked up a backpack for just Can$8.97 (US$6.00). While it was over $10 with tax, that's still a third of what I'd expect to pay. Even if it wears out in a month, I'll have gotten my money out of it.
I stopped briefly at Wendy's to have a frosty. Then I explored the other nearby shopping center. If my sweater from the Bay represented the high end of Canada's retail choices, I was about to experience the opposite extreme. Value Village was like no store I've seen anywhere else. On the outside it looked like any other discount store; if anything it looked a bit more upscale than Zeller's. Once I passed through the door, though, it was clearly something else again. Part of Value Village's inventory is the same kind of overstocks they sold at Honest Ed's. Part of it is seconds, like you'd find at an outlet mall. The rest is second-hand goods, like you'd see at a Goodwill store. It's all mixed together, and you can't really tell what's what. Nothing in the store is over $20 (including television sets), and almost everything is under $5. I was astonished at some of the things they had for sale, like a high school baseball jersey with some kid's name and number on it. Unless "MCKAY" (#14) is the stud of the school, I can't imagine who would buy it--but there it was for $1.99. I picked up a purple dress shirt (a second, because of one deformed button) for $2.99 and an iced tea spoon (they had one such spoon in the store) for $.29.
I made one last stop before returning to the motel. I used my last two-dollar coin to buy a box of Timbits at Tim Horton's. Mostly it was for the entertainment value after having seen their ads, but I must say the things are good. This assortment was a bit heavy on chocolate doughnuts, but they were tasty nonetheless. And, since there's no tax on take-out, I can testify to the fact that "2" minus "1" equals "Timbits".
We had dinner tonight at O'Toole's, a sports bar across the parking lot from the motel. We sat outside on their patio, under an umbrella advertising Corona beer (kind of strange to see ads for the south-of-the-border brew up here). I had chicken a la Suisse, which was a lot like chicken parmesan--marinara sauce and cheese over poultry and pasta. Margaret had lasagna. There appeared to be one waitress for the place, and I can't say she was all that efficient--at least to us. Everybody else appeared to be regulars, and she brought food and drink to some of them even before they ordered. Mostly she just ignored us, though.
Back at our room we watched the Global network news on TV, read some papers, and then went off to sleep.
THURSDAY, August 5
Brantford, Ontario to Joliet, Illinois
(appx. 475 miles)
While we may have covered more miles other days, this was definitely the longest day of the trip.
We again watched CBC Morning before setting out today. This time their feature interview was with a man who was entertaining at the Pan Am Games. He was an excellent juggler, who was obviously scaring the you know what out of the interviewer by juggling knives right beside her during the interview. He also demonstrated how to eat fire.
Besides Wayne Gretzky, Brantford also claims one other famous person as its own. That is inventor Alexander Graham Bell. Bell was actually born in Scotland, and he built his first telephone in Massachusetts, but he spent most of his formative years in Ontario. In fact, he drew up many of the plans for the telephone right here in Brantford. I vaguely remembered seeing the Bell homestead with Hilda (my mother's penpal) back in '76, but I couldn't have told you a thing about it. Since we were here anyway, Margaret and I decided to tour the homestead this morning.
That was easier said than done, since the homestead is signed at least as badly as everything else in Ontario. (For a place that thrives on tourists, they could definitely improve things in that respect.) It is well south of the city proper, in an area I'm sure was rural when the Bells lived there. Today the area is a ritzy housing development. We eventually found the place, parked in their tiny lot, and went into the visitor's center. Unfortunately, we were told they would not be opening until 9:30 (it was about 9:10 at the time). We drove around a while and gave ourselves the grand tour of beautiful Brantford. This killed most of the time, and then we sat in the car and read a bit out of the newspapers until the place officially opened.
While it's another place I won't be rushing back to, I'm glad to have seen the Bell homestead as an adult. It's interesting. They started out with a film that I didn't think I would like, but ended up liking immensely. They have a local actor portraying an elderly Bell recalling his days in Canada. He notices many of the artifacts that are on display here and reminisces about their significance. After the film, we walked through Bell's home (complete with the office where they have the plans for the phone laid out). It intrigued me that, unlike most such museums, you can go right in most of the rooms; we could probably have even touched the furniture if we had wanted to. We didn't, of course, but we did get more of a feel for the place than we would have if everything had been roped off.
Beside Bell's home is another old wood house that is famous for being the first telephone exchange in Canada. Its front room is restored to show the original switchboard, and in back they have a display of historic telephones. I was intrigued at how many of these "old-fashioned" models were in use even in my lifetime. They would actually do well to update this part of the museum. It stops at about 1970 (with things like the "Princess" phone), and an awful lot has happened in telecommunications since then.
We got yet another grand tour of Brantford after we left the Bell homestead. We stopped for gas at a Canadian Tire store that had a "gas bar" out front. I spent all but the last of my Canadian money on juice, ice cream, and today's edition of the Sun. Before long we finally made it out of town.
We took the 403 back to the 401, which we re-joined near Woodstock. We drove back past Ingersoll and London and then exited onto the 402, yet another in Ontario's network of "interstates". The 402 is probably the most interesting of the freeways we followed. Here the fields alternate with scrubby forest, which at least gives a bit of variety to the landscape. We continued west for an hour or so and eventually made it to the city of Sarnia.
While I had all but exhausted my Canadian money, Margaret still had two $20 bills and a bit of change. Sarnia was our last chance to spend that money, so we decided to have lunch here. We drove around for quite a while before eventually stopping at a place called Casey's Grillehouse. This was obviously a chain, and while the food was good, I wouldn't recommend that you eat there. Their prices were not cheap to start with, and their pricing structure was bizarre. Everything, even the condiments, was a la carte. For example, Margaret paid $.88 extra to get gravy on her mashed potatoes. We both had steak, as well as one last bowl of Canadian French onion soup. The bill ended up being a bit of a surprise--it was $41.50, and with tip it used up not only those twenties, but also every last cent of Margaret's change. (Even converting to US$27.75, that's an awfully expensive lunch--and we didn't even have anything but water to drink.)
Before leaving Canada, let me make a quick comment about Canadian money, since it's changed since I last wrote a Canadian travelogue. Canada, of course, officially uses the dollar--just as we do in America. I can remember back when I was a child, that the Canadian dollar was a blue-green bill with the Queen's picture on it that was worth quite a bit more than the greenback. Not only has the value gone down dramatically, but Canada has introduced high-value coins. Today the smallest bank note is worth $5 (US$3.34), and the only other bill in common circulation is the $20 ($13.38). They make tens, but you don't see very many of them. We also got a fifty once from an ATM, but neither they nor hundreds seem very common.
What is common is the high-value change. In addition to the pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters (which still look like U.S. coins, but weigh less than them), Canada has been using one-dollar coins (US$.67) for just over a decade now. The "loonies" (so-named for the birds that grace their backs) are made of a brass-like metal, and these days they are invariably badly tarnished. (At least they're a different color than other coins, though; they avoided the mistake our government made with the "Suzie" dollar coins that looked like quarters.) Loonies are about as common as a quarter is here. Every vending machine takes them, and you can't buy anything without getting a pocketful of them in change.
In addition to the dollar coins, about three years ago the government introduced $2 coins (US$1.34), which Ive heard called both "twonies" and "dubloons", both of which are obviously stupid take-offs on the "loonie" concept. The two-dollar coins are about the size of our half dollars, and they're kind of like a coin inside a coin--with a brass center surrounded by a circle of nickel. They replaced the old red $2 bills, which you never see at all these days. Most stores put the "twonies" in one of the bill slots in their cash register, since there aren't enough coin spaces otherwise. The twos aren't nearly as common as the dollar coins (and most vending machines won't take them), but you do see a lot of them. They add up, too. Here, if you have a pocketful of change, it rarely is more than a couple of dollars; in Canada that change could easily add up to ten dollars.
The Bluewater Bridge between Ontario and Michigan was under construction, but we crossed it fairly quickly. After the fuss we had at Canada Customs, we were almost dreading returning to the States. When we pulled up to the booth in Port Huron, here's what the officer asked:
We followed I-69 westward (though the official direction is "south") toward Flint. On a whim we decided to pull off at Exit 155 when we saw a sign for--what else--Tim Horton's. There are thirty-seven Tim Horton's locations in Michigan now, as well as two in the Toledo, Ohio, area. We stopped to see if the one in Lapeer, Michigan, was the same as the ones in Ontario. The menu (doughnuts, soups, and sandwiches) was identical, but Tim Horton's is definitely more expensive in Michigan. The doughnuts that cost Can$.75 in Ontario cost US$.60 here. That sounds like less, but it's actually 20% more expensive. What's more, in Michigan, while the sales tax is lower, it applies to everything; you can't opt out of the tax by getting your order "to go". We bought a box of American Timbits, which cost US$1.89, instead of Can$1.99 (more than 40% more expensive, not counting the additional tax in Michigan). With American money they can't do the clever add with the math, either.
One reason for the different prices may be that wages are lower in Canada. In looking through want ads in the Toronto papers, it quickly became clear that Canada's minimum wage is $7.50 an hour. That works out to US$5.02, which is quite a bit less than my students make at McDonalds or HyVee (and less than the girls at Tim Horton's in Lapeer could legally make). Wages and salaries for most jobs seem to be less in Canada (teaching is one of the few exceptions), and all types of taxes (income, sales, property, gas) are dramatically higher. While you don't notice it at first, the difference is evident. Canada looks a lot like the U.S., but it is a somewhat poorer country. The people are middle class, but they're not rich. You see this in smaller homes and more apartments, fewer SUVs and more economy cars, very few people ordering "super size" fast food, and almost none of the kids wearing designer labels on their behinds. Economically Canada seems a lot like our country was when I was growing up. In some ways I'm more comfortable there than I am in our present economy, where everybody (too often including me) seems to feel they need every luxury they can get.
CONTINUED IN PART 7
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