Halifax 2007: Halifax Hijinks Part 1

I have a little habit at home in Vancouver of wandering the downtown on sunny days (and rainy days) just to see what quirky sights I can find. Garreth and I spent three days walking circles around Halifax, and here's a few things we found.


This picture is for Nick. Some things never change. Like the meals Sean and Garreth have.






We found the grandfather of all lobsters in a tank at the local Sobey's- which I guess is Atlantic Canada's Save-On-Foods. He weighed 8 lbs, and absolutely towered over his minions.




There is a big "star-shaped" fort in downtown Halifax called the Citadel. This means only that the walls are build at weird, sharp angles, so that attacking cannonballs will bounce easily off the walls and the fort's own cannons will have intersecting lines of fire. It does not look overly impressive from the outside, but on the inside, it has a huge marshalling square, with high walls ringed by cannons and a very deep moat.



Here is a bird's eye view of the Citadel. It's a small scale model, but you can get the picture about how the shape of the walls display a very sound military sense. Analyze it to death and see if you can think like an 18th century general.



Take this fort, motherfuckers. The wall on the right is the outer wall, and the one on the left is the inner wall.






Mike and Garreth weep from the inside of the Citadel's jail cells.














Note the little arrow at the base of the cannon indicating the direction the weapon should be pointed. "You point THIS end at whatever you want to die!"









Like those hideous neo-Soviet monstrosities. So ugly. So, so ugly.





Or Big Mike. Look at that look of terror on his face. He surely fears my wrath.






The Citadel's Boom Boom Room. Those barrels do not contain wine.








"FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!"









Right after this picture was taken, the bird came to life, burst into roaring flames, and carried me into the starry cosmos.







There are no words in the tongues of men to describe how funny I found this. An absolutely incommunicable experience.








I fulfill a longtime dream side-by-side with Garreth: jigging on a Halifax pier.









This is part of a monument commemorating the mass deportation of the region's Acadians after the British took what used to be called Acadia and renamed it Nova Scotia. 10,000 were thrown out; some went to New Brunswick, some returned to France, and others went south to Louisiana and became what we now call Cajuns. I found it amusing for two reasons. (1) It has the word "deportation" on it. (2) It's such a handjob monument to multiculturalism. "Look! Our ancestors massacred your people and trampled your culture because you got in the way of the British Empire. C'est dommage, motherfuckers! But nowadays, we're SUPPOSED to feel bad about things like genocide, the Komagata Maru, Japanese internment camps, the Holocaust, and Native Residential Schools. So we'll put up a cute little cross as a token gesture." Christ, I don't care at all. I don't believe that present generations should have to apologise for the "sins" of their fathers, because we cannot judge actions conducted two centuries ago by present day liberal morals.










Halifax's version of a chopper.










Shout out to the girl who got me my kilt. I couldn't get a clearer picture, but I think you can see enough.









An eyesore. I told the guys to strike an insulting pose, but neither knew how to properly degrade something so ridiculous looking.






"Give me an 'R'!" We meet an old pirate outside the liquor store. I want to wheel him down to the nearest pier and fulfill another longtime dream. If you do not understand the joke I just made, you are surely no friend of mine.








O grave new world, that has such hilarity in it. Read the first line of this sign.













Garreth had some spare quarters.









"NO SPEAKA INGLIS!!!"





It's funny, but the only times I ever feel Chinese is when I see gross stereotypes like this. I'm so whitewashed that I honestly have no self-conception as an Asian, and in Vancouver, there are enough of us bananas that the racial difference between English-speaking whites and yellows is completely forgotten in the grand scheme of Vancouverite culture. But in Halifax, there are no Asians. And suddenly, I am visibly reminded that I do look different from everyone else- and my memory jolts and I go: "Oh, hey. Right. Chinese. Gung hey fat choi, and all that." In Halifax, people are polite enough not to stare, but then you see this cruel cariature of a sign, and I want to go into the restaurant and punch the owner for perpetuating a stereotypical image of Asians.

Okay, I'll get more pictures up tomorrow. I honestly want to show you some pictures of Point Pleasant, Halifax's version of Stanley Park.