I have been informed that it is hotter than the hinges of hell right now in Pittsburgh and even in Toronto. Huh. When I left Pittsburgh, it had been cold and raining for like a week, and guess what! I brought it out here with me! I have now not seen more than about five minutes of sun since I left British Columbia, which would bother me less if it weren't so cold. To be fair, these temperatures (highs that don't crack 60, or single and low double digits Celsius) are below normal for this time and place.
Still, the Regina Farmers Market was slightly forlorn in the morning. I got in from the airport, having flown in from Calgary, a little after 9 a.m. and discovered that the weekly farmers market was conveniently across the street from my hotel, the elegant Victorian Hotel Saskatchewan Radisson Plaza. (Queen Victoria is very much present here, as you'd expect in a city named for her title. Pronunciation tip: The i is long, unlike the girl's name. One of the main intersections in town is the corner of Victoria and Albert.)
ANyway, the forlornness of the market was mostly superficial and visual; the 10 or so vendors huddled under dripping awnings while a handful of shoppers wandered by under umbrellas. The wares were plants -- mostly flowers -- and baked goods, homemade preserves, honey, beeswax. And sushi. Yep.
But the more time I spent there, the less forlorn it became. People seemed to know each other and the vendors, and there were friendly greetings and chat and warm smiles despite the damp chill. One of the flowering-plant vendors seemed particularly popular, and people were strolling away from his stall carrying geraniums and other blooms in pots. I stopped at a stall with bread and rice crispy treats and purchased a cookie. Or tried to. When I handed the vendor a $20, she said, in a vaguely European accent, "You got no change?" I didn't. "It's OK," she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You take the cookie, you pay me later when you walk by again."
So I got some coffee, broke the $20, and that's exactly what I did. It was worth the extra walking in the drizzle to watch her face light up.
Regina reminds of Pittsburgh. It has a steelmaking past, an immigrant population (I see a lot of Eastern European churches in the phone book and names on signs and businesses) and a friendly, unpretentious vibe. People smile and say "hi" and joke about the rain as you pass on the sidewalk. An older couple stopped me from feeding a parking meter and explained that Saturdays are free.
Fortified with my coffee and cookie, I took a spin around the imposing Saskatchewan provincial parliament building and then drove out to the RCMP Heritage Center, excuse me, Centre to see what the story is with the Mounties. Now, it's easy to poke fun, and I've done it, with the whole Dudley Do-Right, Jeannette MacDonald-and-Nelson Eddy, bright red tunics and funny hats thing, but I came away from the Heritage Centre with a greater understanding and new respect for the RCMP and what they stand for. Even though the first thing I thought when I drove onto the campus (it's also a training center, excuse me, centre) and spotted an RCMP cruiser was, "Wait -- they have CARS? What a gyp!"
PM John A. MacDonald founded the North West Mounted Police in 1873 because as trading and settlement extended westward, there were clashes with the Indians and general lawlessness, and MacDonald specifically wanted to avoid the kind of war and carnage that had been happening in the American West. So yeah, they have the word "police" in the name, but they weren't meant to be ordinary cops going out there to enforce laws and arrest people. The Mounties were also meant to be diplomats, peacekeepers and social workers who strove to maintain fair and friendly relations with the Indians and order among the rough characters streaming westward to work on railroads, trade, mine or whatever. They were trained to be creative and resourceful and flexible, not just the toughest guys in town or ruthless enforcers. Though they were pretty implacable about chasing down bad guys, which is how they got that "always get their man" rep. They chased some miscreant all the way down to Nevada, where I bet those red wool tops were pretty damn uncomfortable.
The RCMP was all about community policing before that was hip. MacDonald (Sir John, not Jeannette) borrowed the idea from Sir Robert Peel, for whom English "bobbies" are named. There was a great quote in the multimedia show, which I recommend -- it has hokey moments, but it's fun to watch and really gives you a sense of the more modern work the RCMP is doing, in the CSI line -- and I'm sorry I missed who said it, but the idea was so insightful coming from someone in the 19th century dealing with a frontier that I scribbled it down in the dark: "It is not law we want in this country, but justice."
That right there, I think, is the essence of what makes the RCMP different from a standard police force. Not so much the horsies.
After lunch I went to the Royal Saskatchewan Museum, which starts its look at Saskatchewan's history with the cooling of the Earth's crust. Actually, the geological and paleontological stuff is quite interesting and well-presented, as are the displays about native culture. It's a very worthwhile museum at a bargain rate (suggested donation for adults: $2).
I went for a walk in Wascana Centre, an enormous park with a small lake in it, but the weather got punitive and I couldn't do much besides walk. The rain didn't deter the many rowing crews who had been having some kind of competition and were thronging down at the marina (you can rent canoes and kayaks when it's not a pouring race day), or the ducks, geese and pelicans (no kidding! was NOT expecting pelicans), and, inspired by them, I walked around the lake. I saw the Willow Island ferry, which can be booked on weekends to take people out to a small island in the lake for picnics. I can see the lake from my 10th-floor hotel room, the amazingly spacious Grosvenor Suite. Yes, I have at last realized my dream of staying in a hotel room fine enough to have a name.
The waitress who brought my dinner asked me if I was going to Mosaic afterward. Mosaic is an annual cultural festival, in which Regina celebrates its many ethnic groups with pavilions all over town. I had heard bagpipes and glimpsed a tent through the trees in the park but was too chilled and soggy to do anything about it. For a moment I toyed with the idea of going back there and seeing what the Scots were up to. "What happens in the pavilions besides music?" I asked the waitress. "Oh, food -- that's mostly what I go for, great food -- and people drink and party and have a good time."
Alas, I had photos to import, so I had to go back to the hotel.
Program note: I'm going to Moose Jaw to see the tunnels and sample the delights of the spa, but I won't be able to write about it until Monday because I'll get back late and have to be at the airport at 5:30 a.m. (!) Until then, here's hoping for better weather.
Still, the Regina Farmers Market was slightly forlorn in the morning. I got in from the airport, having flown in from Calgary, a little after 9 a.m. and discovered that the weekly farmers market was conveniently across the street from my hotel, the elegant Victorian Hotel Saskatchewan Radisson Plaza. (Queen Victoria is very much present here, as you'd expect in a city named for her title. Pronunciation tip: The i is long, unlike the girl's name. One of the main intersections in town is the corner of Victoria and Albert.)
ANyway, the forlornness of the market was mostly superficial and visual; the 10 or so vendors huddled under dripping awnings while a handful of shoppers wandered by under umbrellas. The wares were plants -- mostly flowers -- and baked goods, homemade preserves, honey, beeswax. And sushi. Yep.
But the more time I spent there, the less forlorn it became. People seemed to know each other and the vendors, and there were friendly greetings and chat and warm smiles despite the damp chill. One of the flowering-plant vendors seemed particularly popular, and people were strolling away from his stall carrying geraniums and other blooms in pots. I stopped at a stall with bread and rice crispy treats and purchased a cookie. Or tried to. When I handed the vendor a $20, she said, in a vaguely European accent, "You got no change?" I didn't. "It's OK," she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You take the cookie, you pay me later when you walk by again."
So I got some coffee, broke the $20, and that's exactly what I did. It was worth the extra walking in the drizzle to watch her face light up.
Regina reminds of Pittsburgh. It has a steelmaking past, an immigrant population (I see a lot of Eastern European churches in the phone book and names on signs and businesses) and a friendly, unpretentious vibe. People smile and say "hi" and joke about the rain as you pass on the sidewalk. An older couple stopped me from feeding a parking meter and explained that Saturdays are free.
Fortified with my coffee and cookie, I took a spin around the imposing Saskatchewan provincial parliament building and then drove out to the RCMP Heritage Center, excuse me, Centre to see what the story is with the Mounties. Now, it's easy to poke fun, and I've done it, with the whole Dudley Do-Right, Jeannette MacDonald-and-Nelson Eddy, bright red tunics and funny hats thing, but I came away from the Heritage Centre with a greater understanding and new respect for the RCMP and what they stand for. Even though the first thing I thought when I drove onto the campus (it's also a training center, excuse me, centre) and spotted an RCMP cruiser was, "Wait -- they have CARS? What a gyp!"
PM John A. MacDonald founded the North West Mounted Police in 1873 because as trading and settlement extended westward, there were clashes with the Indians and general lawlessness, and MacDonald specifically wanted to avoid the kind of war and carnage that had been happening in the American West. So yeah, they have the word "police" in the name, but they weren't meant to be ordinary cops going out there to enforce laws and arrest people. The Mounties were also meant to be diplomats, peacekeepers and social workers who strove to maintain fair and friendly relations with the Indians and order among the rough characters streaming westward to work on railroads, trade, mine or whatever. They were trained to be creative and resourceful and flexible, not just the toughest guys in town or ruthless enforcers. Though they were pretty implacable about chasing down bad guys, which is how they got that "always get their man" rep. They chased some miscreant all the way down to Nevada, where I bet those red wool tops were pretty damn uncomfortable.
The RCMP was all about community policing before that was hip. MacDonald (Sir John, not Jeannette) borrowed the idea from Sir Robert Peel, for whom English "bobbies" are named. There was a great quote in the multimedia show, which I recommend -- it has hokey moments, but it's fun to watch and really gives you a sense of the more modern work the RCMP is doing, in the CSI line -- and I'm sorry I missed who said it, but the idea was so insightful coming from someone in the 19th century dealing with a frontier that I scribbled it down in the dark: "It is not law we want in this country, but justice."
That right there, I think, is the essence of what makes the RCMP different from a standard police force. Not so much the horsies.
After lunch I went to the Royal Saskatchewan Museum, which starts its look at Saskatchewan's history with the cooling of the Earth's crust. Actually, the geological and paleontological stuff is quite interesting and well-presented, as are the displays about native culture. It's a very worthwhile museum at a bargain rate (suggested donation for adults: $2).
I went for a walk in Wascana Centre, an enormous park with a small lake in it, but the weather got punitive and I couldn't do much besides walk. The rain didn't deter the many rowing crews who had been having some kind of competition and were thronging down at the marina (you can rent canoes and kayaks when it's not a pouring race day), or the ducks, geese and pelicans (no kidding! was NOT expecting pelicans), and, inspired by them, I walked around the lake. I saw the Willow Island ferry, which can be booked on weekends to take people out to a small island in the lake for picnics. I can see the lake from my 10th-floor hotel room, the amazingly spacious Grosvenor Suite. Yes, I have at last realized my dream of staying in a hotel room fine enough to have a name.
The waitress who brought my dinner asked me if I was going to Mosaic afterward. Mosaic is an annual cultural festival, in which Regina celebrates its many ethnic groups with pavilions all over town. I had heard bagpipes and glimpsed a tent through the trees in the park but was too chilled and soggy to do anything about it. For a moment I toyed with the idea of going back there and seeing what the Scots were up to. "What happens in the pavilions besides music?" I asked the waitress. "Oh, food -- that's mostly what I go for, great food -- and people drink and party and have a good time."
Alas, I had photos to import, so I had to go back to the hotel.
Program note: I'm going to Moose Jaw to see the tunnels and sample the delights of the spa, but I won't be able to write about it until Monday because I'll get back late and have to be at the airport at 5:30 a.m. (!) Until then, here's hoping for better weather.
3 comments:
Great post about the RCMP, Sam. My first vision of the Mounties isn't Dudley Doright (he's comes in second), but Sergeant Preston of the Yukon, a TV series from the fifties. Along with his faithful sled dog King, he would arrest the baddies with the earnest statement "I arrest you in the name of the Crown."
The other signature line came at the start of the requisite chase scene with dog sleds: "On King, on you huskies!" I'm serious.
And stop apologizing for your writing schedule. You're doing a fantastic job!
I just finished watching the first season of Due South, the one aboot the mountie who moves to Chicago. Between Benton "Thank you, Kindly" Fraser and Sgt Preston, you have my image of the RCMP. Thanks for filling in the back story.
I agree with Jay about the wonderful job you are doing, literate travel reporting is a very good thing, especially when it's about cool places.
Even Nelson Eddy thought "Rose Marie" was campy but that movie and his portrayal of a Mountie put Canada on the map for many Americans in the 1930s. And "Rose Marie" was one of the top-grossing films of 1936. Most of it was shot at Lake Tahoe, however. When I visited there to interview folks about the filming for my Jeanette MacDonald - Nelson Eddy biography "Sweethearts," the park rangers and old-timers could easily point out every famous landmark from the film, even to the rock on which Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy sat to sing "Indian Love Call."
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