Small world Annette.
My parents were in Halifax for most of the 80's. At first in Halifax proper, then, once they got into boating, they moved to Head of St Margarets Bay. I always enjoyed summer holidays up there, with lobster, as I recall, at C$3.00 apiece. But Christmas was always fun too, As a South African, living at the time in Atlanta, then L.A., a white Christmas was always such a novelty.
On one trip, we went up to Newfoundland first, and hitch hiked around for a week. Wow. In St. John's, the Royal yacht Britannia was in port, and the crew played a rugby match against the local side. The pubs that night all along Water Street were just heaving. Sometime that evening we ended up drinking Newfie Screech, kissing fish, and being made honorary citizens - the details are a little fuzzy.
We tried to get down to St. Pierre as well. In Form III history, describing the end of the war when England beat France in Quebec, the teacher said something like "and France lost all their territories in North America exept for fishing rights in the North Atlantic, and some unimportant islands off the coast of Canada". When I eventually saw St. Pierre and Miquelon on a map, I realized those were those unimportant French islands, and I just had to go. Apparently, if arrested on St. Pierre, you are sent to Paris - the closest French jail. Not that I was planning on testing this mind you. Sadly the weather was too bad for the ferries to be running, and then with the help of the chap whose motel we were in, we tried to bribe a fisherman to take us across, but even they weren't sailing. Sigh, so close, and yet so far. Mammoth fight broke out on the dance floor of the hotel that night trhough - even the band came down and got involved. So our trip down the Burin Peninsula did have some redeeming social qualities.
Sorry for the ramble, just have so many good memories of the Maritimes.
Cheers,
Mike
