One thing I love about this University is that we are an adventurous bunch of Wahoos. Many of our peers have just returned home jet-lagged but smiling after studing abroad or just plain exporing in Europe, Asia or South America. But because my parents threatened murder if I bought any more trans-Atlantic plane tickets, my travels this summer were restricted to the North American continent.
And so I chose to embark on a journey to the great white North. My friend and I drove from Charlottesville to Montreal, Quebec to visit a friend whom we met earlier this year in Paris. In a car. Driving from Central Virginia to Canada. MapQuest predicted the trip would take 12.5 hours. MapQuest was gravely mistaken. It was more like 15 hours.
I admit that though my passion is travel, I had never taken a road trip like this before, and I was a little nervous something would go wrong; after all, Big Foot could definitely be lurking somewhere in a Canadian forest. And I had visions of us stranded on the side of the road in upstate New York at midnight, sobbing because neither of us knew how to change a tire. Thankfully, no tires blew, and there were no monster attacks.
Because we left Charlottesville at night, we had to stop halfway through Pennsylvania and sleep for a couple hours in a hotel. We chose to stop at a Quality Inn in Paxtonia, Pa. because Paxtonia sounded peaceful and the Quality Inn we supposed to be quality. I won't frighten you with sketchy details, but let us make no mistake: there is nothing quality about this hotel chain.
For those normal persons who would probably choose to fly, I will describe the general route I took: From I-64 West, you get on I-81 North and drive through West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania and New York until you get to the Canadian border. This isn't the scenic route -- this is the desolate highway route boasting scattered, glowing Cracker Barrel and motel signs for 10 hours until you reach Ontario, a barren wasteland complete with tundra and swamp. And just to add to the confusion, the speed limit is in kilometers. For energy we packed healthfully: our sources of nutrients for the trip were a box of Gushers, a bag of Goldfish crackers, sour gummy worms, rainbow nerds and Diet Dr Pepper.
I never really thought about how big New York state is until I spent five hours or so driving the expanse of it wondering why the heck we hadn't gotten to Canada yet. I may or may not have shed tears of joy upon seeing the "Canada: 25 miles" sign.
Crossing the border was everything I hoped it would be. A young, Mounty-ish officer checked our passports and asked us what our business was crossing the border. We assured him our only goals were to buy gallons of maple syrup and tame wild moose. He high-fived us and let us pass without suspicion.
The highway that leads into the city of Montreal is pretty much the scariest highway I've ever seen. I learned to drive in D.C. and northern Virginia beltway traffic, and let me tell you, this highway was that kind of crazy driving on crack. I quickly deemed this stretch of road the Canadian Grand Prix of Doom, was adamant on remaining a passenger at this point in the trip and held on for dear life as my valiant travel companion evaded crashing into hyper-speeding Canadian vehicles.
But Montreal turned out to be completely worth it. We stayed with the cutest boys in the city, enjoyed the lower drinking age and visited the Biodome, which houses a very informative and interactive exhibit of different ecosystems and, most importantly, a penguin habitat where about a dozen penguins stood in stationary positions and flapped their wings occasionally. I suspected they were animatronic.
The downsides to Montreal: creepy street performers in the Old Port and playing "Find the Bank" whenever our debit cards didn't work in stores and restaurants, which happened at least once a day.
I'm sure any of you who have traversed to foreign lands know all too well the futility of the game "Find the Bank." For those who don't, or who use more efficient ways of spending money than a debit card, let me explain: Usually, luck will have it that you play this game on a night when you have to search for the nearest bank that will take your card in the machine.
The drive back was also somewhat of a negative experience because as soon as we left Canada, a torrential rain storm followed us for the entire drive back to Charlottesville. Rain pounded the windshield for hours and our trusty vehicle hydroplaned numerous times. But we made it back alive, albeit slightly insane and fearful of storm clouds for the next month.
Mary's column runs biweekly on Fridays. She can be reached at mbaroch@cavalierdaily.com.
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