I gather that a whole bunch of stuff has been going on recently on hubski and that there are a whole bunch of new users, but one of the things that has arisen from the users is #tripreport where people post photos and a little write-up of recent trips they've taken.
The past week or so has been busy. I signed a lease for a place in Boston and then I went to Nova Scotia to hang out with some good friends I made in Viet Nam.
My trip began by Greyhound. The first hurdle was finding out where the Greyhound picked people up locally, which it turns out is next to a parking garage in a city about 10 minutes from where I live. I met a dude there that lives full-time in a mobile home and loves the shit out of life. I don't have pictures of him and his wife, but they were swell. Anyway, here is where the Greyhound took me (Portland, ME) as viewed from a conveniently located bar, where I killed some time.
My next task was to board this fucker:
Now, if you click on that link, you'll notice that it states, "A Journey as Great as the Destination" which might be true, or a very sly back-handed compliment, though I'm not sure to which party. This boat had a few restaurants and a little casino (none of which were worth taking pictures of). The view as we left Portland was nice though:
Here, you'll see that I have gained a (very) little bit of money, but fortunately most of what I had spent on drinks:
Anyhow, that took me to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia where my friends picked me up. Some nice people saw that I had not booked a room or a place to sit and that I had slept on a bench in a common area and kindly asked if anyone would pick me up. I stated that knowing my friends, they would most likely still be drunk and would therefore be late. Imagine my chagrin when my friends showed up on time (and with coffee!). Once in the car, I was whisked away to Camper's Haven:
Check it out, this camper had satellite tv, lattice work and even a porch!
Once at the camp, I saw that plaque, which was on a bench by a little lake which was apparently infested with leeches, as one boy was shouting about them. My friend treated me to Lunenburg sausage, which as it turns out is a food and not a euphimism for a penis.
Like a penis, I cannot describe the flavor of Lunenburg sausage. Perhaps if at some future time I find that I have sampled both a fair number of Lunenburg sausages and penises, I may be able to draw some parallels, but at this point in time both seem unlikely.
Once we had packed up the camp, we drove to a beach where we took a boat:
(I'm neither one of those guys) to here:
Where my friends and I spent the time talking and doing island stuff. I helped my friend Dave (who was hosting us) to build a ladder on their dock. I also cooked a bunch, but nothing worth looking at. The goal was fiber content and vitamins as we would be drinking a fair bit and using an outhouse (always bring wipes).
I also met a little goat on a neighboring island:
I could try to describe the people we met, but honestly it was too weird. And yes, this is the region of Nova Scotia where Trailer Park Boys is set. And yes, people really do talk like that.
Anyway, I met some truly cool people including a 90 year-old former lobsterman named Mansfield Hirtle, who convinced us to have some rum with him and talked to us about a whole lot of stuff, including whether or not to get married, why you shouldn't cheat if you're married, how we're all going to die and of course, those self-driving cars.
I was only able to get a short clip of our conversation and when I picked up my phone, he asked if I was "looking at the girls" which I would have been, but y'know . . . no internet. I apologize for the sound quality:
https://soundcloud.com/r-manalo/mansfield
After five days on the island, we headed back to Yarmouth. It was pissing down rain that morning, so we got a hotel:
You will note that there is a "suana" listed on the sign. When we called down to inquire about the facilities, we were shocked to learn that the front desk clerk did not in fact, know what a sauna, nor even what a "suana" was.
As my friend described it to him, "it's a small hot room where you go to sweat". Anyway, they did have a sauna and some locals who were drinking beers down by the pool. The one girl there informed us that her high school graduation was the next day. We wished her, her father and her male companion a pleasant evening, even after the young man implored me "not to be a bitch" and do a belly flop into the unheated pool.
Guys, honestly this trip threw me for a loop and then kept swinging me around but it was a whole lot of fun. Apologies for the lack of hubski stickers.
Thanks Rico for all that. Your friends sound great - on time and sober! Did I hear that right? The 90-year-old lobsterman says, "I don't want to be cremated because you can't talk to girls." If anyone out there thinks the desire for women lessens as you get older, note: it pursues you even after death. Oh Canada! It's our birthday Tuesday.
So, why, according to Mansfield Hirtle, should you not put your hands in the crotch of a woman other than your wife?
Because then you would be lying to a minister or a priest (of course). He also only specified not having put his hand in another married woman's crotch, so I don't know if that means it's only wrong if you are married and are fooling around with another married person.
Pretty sure that this is gonna be as close as I get to a vacation for a long, long time. Thanks for making it enjoyable.