A relatively gentle reminder

We tried to get out to Gatineau last week, before the Ontario public school system's March Break kicked in. Unfortunately, the Resident Fan Boy had slipped younger daughter's bus pass into the wrong pocket in her parka, so it wasn't discovered until the optimal departure time had passed.

We did make it today. When we arrived at the museum (formerly the Museum of Civilization, now, in a governmental fit of political correctness, relabelled the Museum of History which, elder daughter insists hotly, is a tautology), there was a long, looping line-up for tickets, and I was reminded forcefully why I avoid museums during official March Break. The place was brimming with large herds of Japanese students following a banner, and families, mostly with very young children.

Oh, it wasn't bad. We got to the ticket counter in about ten minutes, and weren't challenged about younger daughter's school status this time, although I'd been careful to bring documentation.

After an early lunch in the relatively recent, rather swish bistro, we lined up for fifteen minutes to await the IMAX film with mildly cranky kids munching on take-away food. This ensured that we were close enough to front of the line to snag my favourite perch above the projector, where we sat for another twenty minutes watching the late arrivals try to avoid sitting in the bottom rows by stumbling over those who were already seated.

What followed was a rather delightful film about the Galapagos Islands which couldn't even be spoiled by the kid kicking the back of my seat, nor the little girl (another late arrival) who chatted at her mum during most of the movie. I learned all sorts of things about the Galapagos, the unique species, how they arrived on the islands and evolved, how the islands themselves are constantly changing, bubbling up through volcanoes, greening, then eroding back into the ocean.

One of the neatest discoveries is the dandelion tree, which has evolved from the dandelions sprung from spores that blew across that corner of the Pacific Ocean millions of years ago. Those are the trees in the photo above; they remind me a bit of the Truffula trees in Dr Seuss's fable The Lorax.

Afterwards we took a second stab at an exhibition about the sinking of the Empress of Ireland (the centenary was last year), which the Resident Fan Boy, younger daughter and I had to rush through last autumn because we hadn't allowed enough time. This exhibit was also good enough to not be spoiled by more than one ankle-biter who would grab both receivers of an audio display, press the French version to one ear, the English to the other, then invariably drop one receiver with a smack and a crash while trying to hang both up at once.  Or the mothers almost tripping me with their strollers because they were distracted by their phone conversations as they passed scenes of death and devastation.

But, as March Break museum visits go, it was a pleasant day. All the same, I was aware I'd had a relatively gentle reminder to not press my luck, and plan a visit on a quieter day.

Falling icicles and fossils

Oh, Ottawans are deluded. One day of plus-zero temperatures (Celsius of course!) and they're warbling about spring coming. They wander in a happy daze, getting beaned by plummeting tusks of ice. Early this afternoon, I took the Accent Snob for a splash through the slushy puddles that make up the sidewalks on the side streets, and we were blocked by an enormous clump of smashed white snow. It took me a minute to realize that it was one of the huge accumulations on top of the shrubbery lining the posh house on the corner. It had evidently slid off in a lumpy crunch sometime during the relatively balmy morning. The dog and I made a detour around it, as I checked quickly for outstretched legs. No casualties.

A European lady whom I glimpse every few months walking her pug, greeted me with talk of spring. I told her that I've learned not to even consider it until May to shield myself from disappointment. She strolled away laughing. It was pointless to remind her that when spring comes, it will last two weeks. Memories here are as short as the winter is long.

However, it's March Break (never Spring Break here), and I've made a list of outings for younger daughter and left it by her breakfast place. She chose the Museum of Nature today, so we set off to fit it in before her voice lesson which is in the same neighbourhood.

The lady at the admissions desk asked for student identification for younger daughter, a first. Younger daughter's school gave up on providing student cards years ago, and I don't carry her report cards around with me. I will now. "She looks older," said the lady kindly, but younger daughter is petite and still looks quite younger than her actual age. As we made our way to the cloakroom, the real reason occurred to me - March Break doesn't begin until next week for the public school system, so she stood out among the handful of tiny visitors to the museum today.

And indeed, I've never seen the Museum of Nature so empty. We practically had the Dinosaur Gallery to ourselves. This meant we could use the audio-visual displays for once. I've rarely had the opportunity to appreciate just how wonderful they are. They're a blend of interviews (subtitled - a huge bonus for younger daughter), animations, quizzes and puzzles. I learned about how fossilized leaves give clues to climate and landscapes: long thin leaves mean rivers, large smooth edges mean tropical, jagged edges mean temperate, and a long spout at the tips means rain forests. I learned there was an enormous Y-shaped inland sea stretching across what is present-day North America, and that the left arm of that "Y" stretched over what is now Saskatchewan, which is why they can find ancient shark teeth in the Pasquia Hills. I suppose it will be back some day, but not teeming with the creatures suspended over the entrance - not even with their skins on.

Younger daughter carefully avoided me, spending a long time at several monitors, murmuring the text from the screens to herself. Diplomatically, I kept my distance until it was time to leave, and we walked out into the sunshine, stretching our legs to avoid the slush and puddles along Metcalfe, listening to the dogs barking and squelching at the dog park on Frank Street, on our way to the coffee shops of Elgin.

A glimmer of hope

The week-long break from school in the term after Christmas is called "Spring Break" in Victoria. The crocuses are past their peak, but a different street breaks out in cherry blossoms each week between February and April, and the daffodils make their appearance, followed quickly by the tulips.

However, I live in Ottawa.

It's called "March Break" here, and during this particular March Break, we're apparently about to surpass the winter of 1970-71 for total snow accumulation.
I'm not all that upset. The week before, younger daughter and I managed to pussy-foot our way to the bus-stop midway up the hill, and paused to watch pedestrians hurtle past us rather like that scene in Titanic when the vessel is preparing to take her final plunge. It was an unusually mild day after a day of freezing rain, and many had blithely ventured out in street shoes. The carnage... Snow --- well, that you can at least walk in, provided you have Mountain Equipment parkas and Sorel boots.

Elder daughter is currently in Barcelona on a class trip which managed to depart Ottawa between two record-breaking snowstorms. She called a couple a days ago from Provençe after a day's cruise around the calanques near the village of Cassis. But this way madness lies.

Younger daughter had carefully planned out the week on the large calendar in her bedroom: "exsperimental farm - firt day; movie time at silver city -second day; lunchtime at diner eat at restaurant - third day; home watch television - fourth day; disney film - last day". Now, once it's on her calendar, it's sacrosanct, so even though I thought she felt warm on Monday, we braved OC Transpo and the now single lane streets with snow-plough shovings obliterating the sidewalks to make it out to the Experimental Farm which younger daughter adores. (I don't, so I prefer to go in winter when there are no flies, muffled smells, and on this particular day, not so many kids --- the smell still follows you for the rest of the day...) Then, we went to see (yet again) Enchanted at the Rainbow Cinema, a second-run movie house operated by gay cinephiles, because there wasn't anything younger daughter wanted to see at Silver City. However, by this time, even younger daughter's Taurean sense of will couldn't fight off the virus that she'd evidently had for at least two days, and we hustled her home into bed, from whence, despite fever and wracking cough, she has joyously watched PBS kids' shows and videos and DVDs nonstop.

The Resident Fan Boy returned to work yesterday, and the prison doors slammed shut. But there's good news: acquaintances in Victoria for whom we have house-sat before are off to Europe for five weeks this summer. Persephone will be out of Hades briefly again --- and she won't have to stay with Demeter the entire time....