Canadian Spy: News and Insights from the Northland

Follow the Music, Part I: From Bublé to Buffalo

2011-12-10T14:30:00.001-05:00

A camera flash pierces the predawn darkness as the AMHL Photographer and I approach the customs booth at the CAN/AM border. A uniformed U.S. official tells us to park the car. No re-entry into the States, not yet. Random search.

Five minutes later and inside the interrogation center, we answer questions about our erstwhile whereabouts and the purpose of our most recent trip to Canada. Short answers. Keep it boring for the border patrol.

Tuesday, November 22
Three days earlier and amidst the hills of CAN/AM country, the cows and blanketed horses oblivious to our adventure and my mission, my wife announced the next music selection: “Break out the Bublé,” she said and then inserted the Canadian crooner’s new Christmas album into the CD player.

We were surprised that Michael B. had decided to record “Santa Baby.” But the hockey-loving singer had deployed a sublime stratagem: replace “baby” with “buddy” and convert the feminine wish list of presents to more male-friendly gifts such as a convertible coupe, Canucks tickets, and a chance for more ice time on the first line.

Songs from Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers’ latest album, Gift Horse, accompanied us to the border. Undetected, my wife and I entered Ontario, and drove west on the 417.

Switching from CD to FM, we listened to the news: Capital Hoedown Country Music Festival announced the 2012 lineup that will include stars representing the Stars and Stripes and the Maple Leaf: Taylor Swift and Reba; Paul Brandt and Terri Clark. And then Blue Rodeo’s “Lost Together,” guided us as we proceeded—without a hitch—to the safe house in Ottawa.

Au cœur du quartier universitaire, the bilingual chargé d'affaires and his studious special agent (a Goldie Poo named Sunny) greeted us at the covert entrance. The pooch padded about the operations centre as his superior sat with us at the kitchen table, highlighting points of interest/mission critical minutia on a map of Canada’s capital city.

Wednesday, November 23
Walking north along the winsome and winding (and not yet frozen) Rideau Canal, I admired the patina on Parliament Hill, the government buildings’ greenish luster most majestic at dusk.

As my wife documented the visual splendor of the illuminated Christmas tree at the corner of Rideau and Colonel By Drive, I followed the music emanating from what locals call “the Underpass.” “Let Your Love Flow” streamed from speakers, or so it seemed. I danced, a subtle solo act (didn’t want to arouse suspicion) as the Bellamy Brothers (band member Randy Hiebert is a Winnipegger) song skipped in and out.

What’s with the intermittent music, I wondered. Was I two-stepping on and off a secret wire that triggered the tune to stop and start? The ineffable pattern (and my complementary moves) continued as “Red Neck Girl” streamed—and stopped—and started from the secret speakers.

I watched the Photographer descend the ramp, toward me, and then as we ascended the other side, the music stopped again. For good, as we walked toward the canal and returned to the safe house, where we listened to the sweet music of…

NHL hockey on Internet radio, as sung by the Toast of Terrace Bay (ON) and Buffalo Sabres’s announcer Rick Jeanneret. “He scooores,” said the Voice of the Sabres after Thomas Vanek gave the Sabres a 2–0 lead over the Boston Bruins. (Even sweeter for B’s fans like me: Benoit Pouliot’s under-the crossbar goal in the shootout lifted Boston over Buffalo.)

Stay tuned for Part II

Puckbite Interviews Captain CanAmerica

2011-10-31T08:42:00.000-04:00

Image courtesy of Puckbite

Captain CanAmerica visited Quebec last week as a guest of the Montreal Poutine Hockey Club. He sat down for a chat with Puckbite.

Introducing Captain CanAmerica

2011-09-14T19:48:00.007-04:00

Dear reader,

I present my new business partner, Captain CanAmerica. All yours, mon ami.

Captain CanAmerica, here to serve. Okay, I’m a fledgling superhero (props to Puckbite for his portrait of me) working on my tagline. Given the early stage of my development, I can reveal little of who I am. In comic book-parlance (I’m still waiting for an invitation to Comicon de Montréal 2011), I am the Canadian spy’s sidekick.

While my partner’s modus operandi is stealth—he has eluded many would-be interrogators—my method is more overt. You’ll see me on guest posts here, and perhaps on other sites, as we—my partner, you, and I—combat the common villain: our inherent intolerance of those whom we do not yet know or understand.

Captain Canuck-meets-Captain America, I am not. A maple-leafed belt and star-spangled shield do not suit me. I endured no alien rays or scientific experiments to strengthen my skeletal and muscular systems.

My sole superpower (as far as we know) at which you might marvel: summoning my best self. With a super solar-powered lamp embedded in the butt end of my recycled wood hockey stick, I aim to illuminate the people who populate the provinces and territories that comprise Canada, and thus enlighten all kind-hearted citizens on both sides of the 49th parallel.

Time for me to make like a zipper, and fly.

Commemorating Cooperation and Compassion: 9/11, Beyond Borders

2011-09-11T16:40:00.001-04:00

As the U.S. honours loved ones lost on this date ten years ago, I keep close to my heart heroes on both sides of the 49th parallel. An except from AMHL Glory:

Presidents and prime ministers will come and go, so I’m talking about the residual, ordinary citizens in the U.S. and Canada who’ve done extraordinary things to extend goodwill beyond geographical borders.

During the horrors of September 11, 2001, the bravery of New York’s Fire Department, Police Department (and the less publicized Port Authority) is well-known, and should be; we know of the pluck of the passengers of Flight 93 that crashed in Pennsylvania; and we recall the image of a smoldering Pentagon. The carnage: 2973 dead (including twenty-four Canadians) and twenty-four missing.

But you may not realize the importance of the international cooperation between the Stars and Stripes and the Maple Leaf on that terrible Tuesday and the days beyond.

When the U.S. ordered all its flights that morning to land, Canada rose to the challenge.

NAV Canada, a private corporation that owns Canada’s civil air navigation, reports on its Web site that it was responsible for diverting 239 flights, most of which were en route to U.S. destinations, to Canadian airports. From St. John’s (Newfoundland) to Vancouver (BC) to Whitehorse (Yukon), Canada came to the rescue of some 33,000 passengers. In Gander, Newfoundland, about 40 landed without incident.

Where do you house, feed, and comfort more than 6,000 distressed, confused, and hungry passengers? Gander, population 9,651 and nearby communities like Lewisporte, that’s where.

Nazim-Amin, a flight attendant on Delta Flight 15, said that after landing in Gander without incident, passengers and crew spent nearly the next eleven hours on the plane, unsuccessfully trying to reach loved ones on their mobile phones because their communications providers didn’t have towers in Canada (or if they did, the phone lines to the U.S. were too jammed to reach anyone). Sleeping as comfortably as one can on a jumbo jet, everyone, including a thirty-three-week pregnant woman, waited for their turn to disembark.

And when they did, the kind-hearted souls of central Newfoundland, blanketed these passengers with more compassion in days beyond the initial tragedy. Returning to the States would take several days.

And the grateful passengers and crew, many from Atlanta, GA, responded in kind by creating the Flight 15 Scholarship Fund for their new-found friends in Lewisporte.

Love transcends borders, eh?

Thank you, Delta Flight 15 passengers and crew. Thank you, Newfoundland and Labrador. Thank you, Canada.

Niger Reef Tea House: A Royal Success

2011-07-24T15:53:00.001-04:00

Sunday July 3, 2011
St. Andrews-by-the-Sea, New Brunswick

As the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge conclude Day Four of their nine-day Canadian tour (so far a smashing success) and, back in England the Wimbledon crowds disperse (Djokovik defeated Nadal this morning), my queen and I are treated as VIPs at the Niger Reef Tea House.

Then again, all the guests at the understated edifice off Water Street are treated as friends, if not royalty.

Seated at the same picnic-style bench that we sat at this afternoon for lunch (I recommend the potato tart), our tennis shoes touch the slatted-wood deck. We are among half a dozen or so patrons dining on the patio of what is becoming famous for this sea-side town’s frugal-yet-fine dining experience.

As my tea steeps in a regal black teapot, I look over my right shoulder. Low tide on the Bay of Fundy reveals the reef, off Joes Point Road, into which the British warship HMS Niger collided (closer to high tide) in 1866. Above us, a man-made canopy flaunts a Canadian beer, and above that an umbrella of maple leaves affords us ample shade.

Proprietor Dave Peterson, a Canadian Red Seal chef, and his pal Josh, who says he’s “just the cook,” are the two mainstays of the enterprise that launched in 2010. The two native New Brunswickians, who worked together at two other local establishments, are taking orders and preparing the Sunday Night Special: prime rib.

The guests inside the log-cabin-like structure lob sports trivia questions at each other as Dave and Josh attend to business.

A few minutes later, after a superb mini Caesar salad, her majesty and I adore the presentation of the main course: The beef is just juicy enough to soften the homemade mashed potatoes (peeled this afternoon). The sautéed pea pods and carrot sticks complement the main attraction, and the ensemble of red, white, green and orange are in perfect proportion.

The prime rib’s subtle, sublime seasoning and tender splendor, the chunky potatoes, the sturdy vegetables: They render me satisfied but not stuffed.

Dessert, dear tennis and royalty fans, is a modest portion of strawberries and cream to rival a royal breakfast at Wimbledon, and more tea, of course.

Canadian Spy: The Next Step

2010-10-16T13:32:00.001-04:00

I’m taking this espionage thing to the next level, by learning French. Below is an excerpt of my first assignment en la cours de français, my first foray into introducing myself to francophones.

A Propos de Moi

Salut, mes amis. Je m’appelle Jim, mais ma famille et mes amis de hockey m’appellent Jimmy. Tout le monde pense que je suis Canadien. Je viens de Colorado—ou trois de mes quatre frères et mon papa habitent—mais je habite avec ma femme à Maynard. Je étudie le français parce que deux de mes amis de hockey parlent français, j’aime bien la musique de Céline Dion, y parce que ma femme et moi voyageons souvent a Canada. Nous adorons la Ville de Québec. Nous ne somme pas fans de l’équipe de hockey de Montréal, mais j’aime bien Patrice Bergeron, qui vient de Québec et qui joue pour les Bruins de Boston. Nous aimons les Bruins et le entraîneur, Claude Julien.

J’adore aussi lire les livres de Jacques Falla, Frank Delaney et George Plimpton; écouter et chanter la musique de les artistes canadiens comment Great Big Sea, Bryan Adams, y Les Ténors Canadiens; manger les beignes les démanche; et écrire de tout ces expériences.

Un de ces jours j’aimerais publier mon mémoire, Gloire AMHL: Une passion pour le hockey du matin (et beignes); écrire autres livres, et voyager à Nouveau Zélande—bien que ils ne pas parlent français allé.

CanadAmerica and Beyond: Amiable Exchanges, Part II

2010-06-12T17:44:00.009-04:00

Continued from Part I
(image courtesy of Gooslane Editions and BTC Audio Books)
Sunday, May 30
US/New Brunswick Border

An hour after crossing the border (and then the road leading to St. Andrew and the safe house by the sea), my wife/driver nudges me awake. “We’re in St. John,” she says.

“We won’t be arrested this time,” she says as we approach the toll booths before the bridge. (She exaggerates as she recalls an incident at the same bridge: A few years ago, we deposited the proper coinage, but the payment didn’t register. We kept driving, thus triggering sirens to alert provincial officials that track us to this day.

After a nice meal at East Side Mario’s (I recommend the Tuscan Chicken Salad) and a friendly conversation with our waitress (whose favourite donut at Timmy’s is the Boston Cream), Indigo Books and Music beseeches us to indulge our benevolent curiosity in all things Canadian. So we drive up Westmoreland Road, and then enter the bookstore atop the hill.

An author sits at a table near the front of the bookstore. She’s ready to engage in discussion about or sign a copy of the book she has written: Don Messer: The Man Behind the Music.

“Who’s Don Messer?” I ask her and then wince with regret as I anticipate the response. I should know this.

Johanna Bertin is surprised that someone, who sounds as Canadian as I do, does not recognize the name of such an endearing iconoclast. Yet, in True North fashion, she is happy to forgive my faux pas and engages in a friendly dialogue about the subject of her book.

“He was more popular than Hockey Night in Canada,” Bertin explains.

What prompted her to write the book?

Bertin paraphrases what she has written in the acknowledgements I will later read, “Thirty years ago, when I first moved to Harvey Station, New Brunswick, I considered writing a biography of Don Messer. A friend of mine lived in his boyhood home in Tweedside, just a few kilometers from my home, and as we spoke of Don’s accomplishments, it seemed to me they warranted recognition and celebration…”

I say I’m going to return the book I had selected off the shelf for Ms. Bertin’s book, and she becomes gleeful.

Always happy, she says, to learn what another writer thinks.

Back at the stateside safehouse: From what I’ve read so far, I’m glad I swapped books. Ms. Bertin has written a superb story about a man whose legacy will hopefully become more recognized and celebrated south of the 49th parallel.

CanadAmerica and Beyond: Amiable Exchanges, Part I

2010-06-06T14:16:00.008-04:00

June 4, 2010

Escaping the authorities in their governmental grey and canteen green vehicles now a fait accompli, the AMHL Photographer/driver/reluctant accomplice and I are harboured at the stateside safe house. So I now transmit the following report—the first of three—about the friendly and free-flowing dialogue in CanadAmerica and beyond.

Sunday, May 30
US/New Brunswick Border
(Image courtesy of US Mission Canada at Flickr.com )

“Destination?” the Canadian customs officer asks.

“St. Andrews,” my driver responds.

How long are you staying?

"Until Tuesday."

Purpose?

"Vacation."

Did you bring any plants or weapons with you?

"No."

“Mace?” he asks. “Pepper spray…surface-to-air missiles,” he concludes, his upper lip bending to complement the upward curve of his lower lip.

"No," my driver says, laughing.

The gatekeeper chuckles, not knowing that my driver will soon zoom past the road leading to St. Andrews and the safehouse by the sea.

Stay tuned for Part II.

Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics: Eh to Zed

2010-02-15T14:34:00.008-05:00

Image courtesy of A Time to Blossom at Flickr.com

Inspired by Shane Koyczan’s “We Are More”, a poem about what it means to be Canadian (hint: more than saying “zed” instead of “zee”), I hope to highlight the defining memories—as they pertain to my mission—of the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics Games.

And in the spirit of the Opening Ceremony, I invite you to participate in this endeavour. You—no matter the side of the 49th parallel in which you reside—don’t have to wear a white poncho or wave a penlight, but you’re welcome to help fill in the blanks below.
AAerial views and Alexandre Bilodeau: The video shown during the Opening Ceremony depicts Canada’s diverse geography, from Signal Hill atop the cliffs of Newfoundland & Labrador to the jagged majesty of mountains in British Colombia. And how about that lad who landed Canada’s first homegrown gold medal?

BBobby Orr and “Bang the Drum”. To the sixty-two-year-old kid from Parry Sound who helped usher in the Olympic flag and to the catchy tune by Bryan Adams and Nelly Furtado. Well done.

CChris “Wheeler Dealer” Lord and Curling. Chris, in a story by Kevin Paul Dupont wrote, reminisces about the Olympic bus he loves—and is ready to sell. Curling (some say the sport the English invented and that Canadians mastered) is fantastic if not yet widely understood—all those rocks, skips, and ends.

DDavid Atkins and his team. Atkins, the mastermind behind the opening and ceremonies, delivered a dynamite opening night. Resplendent imagery evoked imagination and emotion. I marveled especially at the spouting whales swimming across the “floor.”

E

F
Fiddlers and First Nations. Merci to the opening ceremony performers—the frenetic fiddlers and the footloose First Nations members really cut a rug (French translation anyone?)

G
Gretzky lights the lamp, er cauldron.

H
Hannah Kearney. The American skier, whose mother grew up in Montreal and who has Canadian cousins, won gold in the freestyle mogul event. She defeated Canada’s Jenn Heil, but the gold medalist was humble (in true Canadian fashion) when she said on NBC that silver is nothing to be ashamed of.

Most Canadians are proud of their athletes, but maybe not as proud as they are of those who have lost their lives overseas. NBC honoured, with piece more than two years and then again in on the first night of Olympic coverage, these soldiers’ sacrifices by mentioning the Highway of Heroes.

I

J
Jon Montgomery: Gold medal around his neck and joy presiding on his face, the skeleton sledder from Manitoba sings O Canada.

KKennedy’s quote. NBC, in its coverage of the Opening Ceremony re-introduced Canada to America by way of JFK. Almost fifty years ago, in a speech to Canadian Parliament, he said, “Geography has made us neighbors. History has made us friends. Economics has made us partners. And necessity has made us allies. Those whom nature hath so joined together, let no man put asunder. What unites us is far greater than what divides us.” Amen.

L
MMikey “Says He Wasn’t Good Enough to Play So He Becomes Part Owner of the Vancouver Giants” Bublé, Matt “Five-hole Goal” Lauer, and Mary “Mountie for a Day” Carillo. Mikey, whose hometown is Vancouver, gave NBC’s Today Show’s Matt a tour of the soulful singer’s favourite places, including the rink. The two lads “laced ‘em up” for a shootout during which Lauer flicked a nice wrist shot between the goalie’s legs.

Mary Carillo (NBC’s Canadian spy) donned the Red and Black and Stetson hat to learn more about how the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) train. She spent a good chunk of her day marching in boots, running the obstacle course, and firing a weapon. She even drove a squad car. Although, some will say these short segments enforce only stereotypes of Canadians, I believe this feature focused on the commitment it takes to join the RCMP and the pride many Mounties demonstrate in performing their jobs.

N
O
PPatrice Bergeron: The Boston Bruins’ lone representative to Team Canada played only a handful of minutes, which baffled many a Black and Gold fan until we learned that he was hindered by a groin injury incurred in the first game. We’re proud of you, Patrice.

Q
R

SStanding ovation. The home crowd, who had just witnessed its women’s hockey team rout (18–0) the Slovakia squad, rose to its feet to cheer the losing team. Talk about embracing the Olympic spirit, eh?

Sounds of Vancouver: From "Fire on the Mountain" to "Ordinary Miracle" to "the Olympic Flame", this CD is a testament to all those who prepared for, participated in, or witnessed the splendor of the 2010 Olympic Games.

Sid the Kid: Sensational skills that stoked a nation, priming Canadians for a celebratory closing ceremony.

T
U“USA! USA! USA!” the crowd—and not just Americans—shouted as the members of the Team USA women’s hockey team, received the last of their silver medals.

V
W
“We hope you loved the hockey. We hope you loved Canada. We did both.” –NBC’s Mike “Doc” Emerick as he concluded NBC’s broadcast of Team Canada’s gold medal victory over Team USA.

William Shatner: Crickets, canoes, and the Final Frontier

X
Y
“You Gotta Be There,” says Michael J. Fox as he concludes the HelloBC.com commercial. Amidst the host province’s natural splendor, the actor/writer/hockey player shares the stage with other BC natives: Ryan Reynolds, Erick McCormack, Kim Cattrall, Steve Nash, and Sarah McLachlan.

Z
Zach Parise: The American scored the game-tying goal with 24.4 seconds to go in regulation, as his Canadian/Canadienne father, J.P., probably stifled a nationalistic groan in favor of a paternalistic cheer. Or maybe vice-versa.

Zed, Zee: Both are okay with me.

The Great Gordon Mystery

2009-09-28T18:56:00.004-04:00

Gordie Howe, Gord Kluzak, and Gordie Roberts*. Gord Murphy. Gordie Dwyer. All are Canadian. Although Gordon and its variations seem to have gone out of vogue—the likes of Ethan, Aiden, and Lucas are all the rage—the names are still prevalent north of the 49th parallel.

The name’s popularity in Canada extends outside hockey circles. Media: Gordon Sinclair. Music: Gordon Lightfoot and “Gordie”, the title of the Bare Naked Ladies’ first album.

The only Gords I know of here in the States are a kid from high school; Gordie the Pig in the movie, Gordie; and Gordon Shumway (a.k.a. ALF), who resided in Riverside, CA.

But why is this name more popular in Canada than in the States?

I reckoned this phenomenon has something to do with Canada’s connection to the Crown, but I couldn’t pinpoint a reason. So I put the question to my field agents, some living stateside and others Up North. They filed the following dispatches:

Nova Scotia: No clue.
Thanks for checking in though, always good to hear from you.

PEI: “You should write the Bare Naked Ladies and ask them why they named their debut album Gordon.”
Not an answer to the question, but that’s a good idea. Stay tuned.
Republic of Newfoundlander: “Don’t forget the lead singer of the Tragically Hip, Gordon Downey.”
Right on.

Ontario: “…It dates, I am sure, from the first Canadian International Military Expedition…and involved voyageurs and loggers being sent in canoes to free General Gordon.”
We’re on to something.

In 1884, Charles George Gordon, a.k.a., Gordon of Khartoum (because he was the former governor-general of Sudan’s capital city), helped Egyptians escape from a jihad led by Muhammad Ahmad.

However, the Canadians on this Nile Expedition—also referred to as the Gordon Relief Expedition—did not reach Khartoum until it was two days too late. Gordon had been beheaded.

Nonetheless, as the field agent wrote, “(The account) is one of Britain’s most famous tales and directly involved Canada.”

Correction
11/13/2009
*Gordie Roberts is American, born and raised in Detroit. His parents were Red Wings fans and named him after that other guy named Gordie. Sorry for the error.

Random Research from Newfoundland, Part II: Foods and Fred’s

2009-06-21T13:26:00.005-04:00

Cont'd from Part I: A Baker's Dozen

Sitting in the Halifax airport and waiting to board our plane, which is emblazoned with the Maple Leaf and is bound for Boston, my wife unwraps a Maple Nut Clif Bar.

Smell this, she says.

“I don’t like maple,” I say, scrunching up my nose.

“What kind of Canadian spy are you?” she says.

The kind that likes maple syrup on his pancakes but not as a primary flavor in a nutrition bar or as frosting on a donut. And the kind that waits until he has outwitted the authorities —again—to file his findings.

Here then, is the second installment—a baker’s dozen sequel to Part I—of a two-part report.
1. Best Fish Sandwich: Chaffe’s Landing, Petty Harbour
The AMHL Photographer loved the lightly-bread cod, which the proprietor himself had caught that morning.

2. Best Record Store: Fred’s, St. John’sNo offense to O’Briens, which we’ve never visited, but Fred’s has the welcoming purple storefront, a friendly staff, ample space and selection, and about a half dozen preview stations.

3. Best CD I Bought: Tarahan, Tarahan’s Town
The CD cover, which depicts the Kool-Aid coloured (proposed new flavours: Cheery Cherry, Guffaw Grape, and Laugh-Out-Loud Lime) row houses for which St. John’s is famous, attracted me. Then, the balance buoyed by the bands’ own well-crafted lyrics and splendid renditions of a U2 classic and Newfoundland favourite, hooked me.

4. Best CD I Didn’t Buy: Donnie Dumphy, I Loves Doing Wheelies
Donnie Dumphy’s I Loves Doing Wheelies first commanded my attention as we walked by the announcement (nailed to a telephone pole) of his CD release. His lyrics were, in the words of the AMHL Photographer, “disturbingly catchy.” I liked the album’s title and the cover shot, but the songs were not my cup of Tetley.

5. Best Non-Red Green Pun: Just Desserts
Red Green, the hockey-loving redneck with the Irish-invoking surname, delivered a couple doozies as part of the “Possum Drop” episode, which airs on the CBC (and PBS in the states), but the raspy-voiced rascal’s puns would take to long to explain here. Channeling the Canadian punmaster as I walked past the vacated Just Desserts shop, I said, “It looks deserted.” (“I knew you were going to say that,” my wife replied. “I knew, on some level, you were going to say that.)

6. Best Senior Hockey Team: Clarenville Caribous
Caribou or Caribous? Doesn’t matter what collective noun you use. This team of adult hockey players won the Herder by beating the Conception Bay Cee Bees.

7. Best New Donut at Tim Hortons: The Key Lime
The aroma reaches the olfactory system before the taste buds can take over. I normally don’t go for the filled donuts—too messy—but the sour power of this tangy treat was too much to resist.

8. Best Place to Re-tell Ghost Stories: O’Reilly’s, St. John’s
You need only find a friendly off-duty employee and a bouncer/folklore major.

9. Best Place to See a Ghost: Queen’s Street in St. John’s
I double dog dare you to take the Haunted Hike with Doug Jarvis; follow that up by reading his book; and then—the next night—take a solo tour of Queen’s Road.

10. Best Getaway for a Gluten-free Snack
At The Bookery, you’ll satisfy not only your sweet tooth but will also be beset by beguiling books (many that you won’t necessarily find at Chapters or Borders). I recommend losing yourself in the literary realm for as long as you need, and then enjoying your newfound treasure with an almond cranberry pastry and a white tea.

11. Best Recommendation We Didn’t Follow
The Caribou Burger at Aqua, recommended by The Bookery’s proprietor, sounded tasty. But on our last night in Newfoundland, this Canadian spy opted to keep a low profile.

12. Best Salad in St. John’s
In a province where flavorful fruit and crunchy vegetables are difficult to keep fresh, the YellowBelly Brewery and Public House offers just that. Orange wedges, curly-qued carrot shavings, cranberries, and leafy greens—mix in pecans and drip in maple vinaigrette—and you’ve got a colourful and crunchy salad that’s anything but cowardly.

13. Best Food and Service
At Pasta Plus Café on Water Street, you’ll find a wide variety of temping creations. My favorite is the baked Mac ‘n’ Cheese (go the extra kilometer and add chicken for three bucks). And if you’re lucky, your waiter will be as earnest and friendly as Matthew Hornell.

Random Research from Newfoundland, Part I: The Best Of, a Baker’s Dozen

2009-05-31T11:02:00.009-04:00

On a dead end road, the spy car is stopped. We’re waiting for the safe house operator to arrive. Exposed, with no where to go.

“I don’t have a signal, either,” the AMHL Photographer/my wife says about the spy phone. She goes to sleep, and I take first watch.

All is calm on this random island—until two counterintelligence operatives wearing orange life vests speed by in a motored boat. They cast suspicious glances in our direction but continue west. Close call…and the mission, to identify the best of Newfoundland Labrador, continues…

1. Best weather: Light snow in late May
Frosting the “pine-clad hills" of the Avalon region, the snowy image may grace our next Christmas card.

2. Best ice-breaker: “How are ya gettin’ on?”This conversation-starter is common on “The Rock,” but any come-from-away posing this question with the correct pitch and pronunciation will (without raising suspicion) get the locals talking.

3. Best iceberg: Trinity Bay, Bonavista Peninsula (pictured)The AMHL Photographer captured this pinnacled ‘berg off the coast of Melrose.

4. Best Sign: Bonavista City Limits
Bonavista: Home of NHLers Michael Ryder (Bruins) and Adam Pardy (Flames).

5. Best History Lesson: Cape Bonavista Lighthouse
Thank you to the modern-day lighthouse guides. The light no longer needs an overnight keeper, and weather trends are tracked by someone else; but our guides are now history’s beacons.

6. Best Cup of Coffee (and Blueberry Cheesecake): Walkham’s Gate Pub, Bonavista
Java so smooth to the palate and cheesecake sans too much sugar: These two items belong together like hockey and donuts.

7. Best Hockey Color Commentator: PJ StockThe former Bruin, now retired but still sporting a playoff beard, still packs a powerful, yet playful, punch as a between-periods analyst on Hockey Night in Canada.

8. Best Book I Didn’t Buy at Chapters: Forward Thinking, The Danny Cleary Story
I have way too many hockey books in my queue, but after perusing this Newfoundlander’s biography, I was tempted to add Brendan McCarthy’s book to my bookshelf.

9. Best Donut Book Not Available at Chapters: Do Donuts Fall in the Winter?I had no idea what the book is about, but the title is catchy, eh? It's not available in the Chapters in St. John's, so you'll have to order it online.

10. Best Musical Performance: Chris Hennessy at Shamrock City, St. John’s
A pint of Guinness on the stool beside him, a guitar in his hands, and a soothing voice to comfort the crowd. Nobody does “Candle in the Wine” any better.

11. Best Place to Read Ghost Stories: Random Island
Spine-tingling tales from Dale Jarvis. Best to read Haunted Shores: True Ghost Stories of Newfoundland and Labrador with a security blanket or, even better, a real person to watch your back.

12. Best Radio Station: VOCMCall in or just listen to Open Line or Back Talk. Or when these programs are off the air, listen to the likes of Paul Brandt or Shania Twain (both Canadians) or tune into the news at 590 on your AM dial.

13. Best News: Daffodil Place Meets Its GoalsThis haven for families fighting cancer, which raised seven million dollars in just two years (a year sooner than expected), will conduct opening ceremonies on June 12, 2009.

Part II: Food and Fred's

O-Town Espionage: Man on the Street

2008-11-06T19:01:00.003-05:00

After surveying unsuspecting citizens on Wellington Street and at the safe house, kibitzing with Sens fans in Kanata, and trading e-mail with another Ottawan, I bring you the following snippets.

GTA
He’s a Leafs’ fan, but his favourite Senator is Dany Heatley. #1 donut is the Sour Cream, Glazed.

Does is have to be from Timmy’s?

“Nowhere else.”

B-Frit
“I haven’t played hockey since I was a kid.” He doesn’t watch hockey either—or at least doesn’t have a favourite Sen. The Blueberry Fritter is his first choice, but he thinks the Old Fashioned is most popular in O-Town.

DC
“Double Chocolate,” she says without hesitation. But when asked who her favourite hockey player is, she has to think about it…and then says, “Fisher.”

Safe house1
She’s not a hockey fan, so does that mean she knows B-Frit? Nope. She likes crullers, no matter the manufacturer.

Safe house2
“I think Gerber is a great goalie.”

And he thinks the Boston Cream is the bomb. Does it have to be from Timmy’s?

“You know it.”

MUN1
Dressed in a Bruins jersey, he says he likes the Walnut Crunch (sounds familiar, eh?).

UsherShe digs Chris Neil. #1 donut is the Canadian Maple, washed down with a Triple Triple (milk, not cream).

Kingston1
He’s sporting the Black and Gold, #8 on his back, #4 in his heart…and a Chocolate Dip on his mind.

Kingston2Like father, like son. Almost. The kid likes Kessel and the Old Fashion.

Plain Jane
Dany Heatley is #1 on the ice, and the plain Old Fashion is tops on her donut list. (Maybe B-Frit was right?)

“Plain? What does that say about me? “Jazz it up a bit,” says her husband.

Jazzy
He’s fond of the (Apple) Fritter and a fan of Chris Neil.

2CupDonuts are nothing to write home about. He’ll have a cup of coffee at Tim’s but prefers his first and subsequent cups at Second Cup.

Until next time, O-Town, farewell.

Ottawa in October

2008-10-25T19:17:00.004-04:00

“IT IS OCTOBER 17, 2006. A cold rain is falling in a slant along Wellington Street, the lights from cars moving past Parliament Hill washing yellow down toward the parkway along the Ottawa River. It is nasty and miserable and those of us hurrying along the sidewalk are in danger of being splashed from the side as well as having our umbrellas ripped inside out from behind. We are heading this wretched night, heads bowed, collars tight to the chin, to the National Library to hear a panel discussion on what exactly makes a Canadian.

“True story.”

-From Canadians, Chapter Two, “A Canadian Is…”
by Roy MacGregor
IT’S OCTOBER 17, 2008. This Friday night in Ottawa is crisp and clear and cheery. Happy Canadians, strolling, smiling and laughing, abound on Wellington Street. Parliament Hill’s street lights illuminate Peace Tower—the Maple Leaf lording over Timbit Nation—and reflect off the Rideau Canal, which feeds into the Ottawa River. North, across the watery border and into Gatineau, Quebec, the scene is also serene. Twenty-two kilometers west-southwest, in Kanata, the Ottawa Senators are trouncing the visiting Phoenix Coyotes.

Perfect conditions for conducting espionage. My mission, however, is not yet as clear as the weather; my superior has not yet provided details, only a general directive: Observe. Remember. Wait.

Saturday is another bedazzling day. After a brisk two-hour walk with Fort Collins’s Mr. Hockey (a.k.a. my dad), a hearty lunch, and then a briefing with my wife (a.k.a. The AMHL Photographer), my anonymous superior reveals details. I’m to identify Ottawa’s favorite donut and the city’s favorite Senator. I leave the safe house and return to Wellington Street.

True story (pretty much).

Of the thirteen Canadians I interrogate, two politely decline to answer questions and are released on their own recognizance. The others supply conflicting information: Two select the Old Fashion Plain as their favorite. Everyone else picks a different donut. All but one prefers Tim Hortons over any other donut supplier; the lone exception is vendor-agnostic: She prefers a Honey Cruller, no matter the manufacturer.

Of these eleven respondents, two don’t follow hockey; so I augment my findings about Ottawa’s favorite Senator with additional interviews and information provided by double agents. Two Ottawans select Chris Neil as their favorite Senator. Every one else picks a different player.

In the next week, I’ll release details of these conversations. But for now, do we conclude that the Old Fashioned Plain and Chris Neil are Ottawa’s favorites?

Happy Thanksgiving

2008-10-12T17:08:00.003-04:00

In honor of Thanksgiving Day in Canada, I decided an informal ether-based freelance effort was in order. I unwrapped the Ron Hynes cassette from its case, inserted the Newfoundlander’s Cryer’s Paradise into the CSD –ED37 CD all-in-one music machine, and then commenced to conducting espionage.

With Mr. Hynes supplying the soundtrack, I discovered Canadian Newcomer Magazine. According to the publication’s Web site, “The mission of the magazine is to connect the regions diverse ethnic communities in Canada using one voice and language by providing free information, advice, entertainment and encouragement to new immigrants.” It sounds like a stuff introduction to Canada, but one back issue belies this properness by offering a tongue-in-cheek “How Canadian Are You” challenge.

As you might have surmised, I passed with flying colors. Had it not been for questions about broadloom and Upper Canada College (and not knowing that some of the twenty questions have more than one correct answer), I would have aced this entertaining exam.

Regardless, the lessons I learned may abet me on an upcoming assignment. This time next week, I’ll be on a bona fide mission, details of which I’m not yet at liberty to disclose. But rest assured that I’ll update you—if not while at the safehouse—soon after I’ve eluded the authorities, who will no doubt be monitoring my every move.

Until then, Happy Thanksgiving.

Fuzzy Canadians

2008-09-07T14:46:00.005-04:00

Image courtesy of Bluecherrydoughnut.com

I haven’t crossed the 49th parallel since July. But make no mistake: I’ve continued to spy on the Northland.

These covert operations come in various forms. First, I’ve been reading Canadians, Roy MacGregor’s colorful commentary on a nation’s fuzzy identity.

Early on in the book, MacGregor describes a scene centered by Pierre Trudeau’s passing:

“…At one crossing a woman held up a cherry paddle, a rainbow-coloured voyageur scarf tied carefully around it. At another, a man held up his country’s flag with his country’s perfect flagpole: a hockey stick…Construction workers crawled free of the hole they were digging near a culvert to stand in respect, the yellow front-end loader behind them stilled, its scoop raised in its own serendipitous salute.”

MacGregor’s coverage of Timbit Nation is as expansive as the country’s geography. From popular culture to fictional entities to sports, including references to Red Green, Anne of Green Gables, and the Grey Cup—MacGregor paints, as the best-selling book’s title continues “a portrait of a country and its people.”

I’ve referenced the book (which also includes one chapter dedicated to hockey) in my conversations with Canadians. Most didn’t recognize the prolific author’s name or his best-selling book.

Nor do they have the slightest clue about what Mats Sundin will do. Return to the Leafs? Become a Ranger? Retire? I doubt MacGregor—or Sundin himself—knows.

A book and a telephone have connected me to Canada. So has the media. I’ve contemplated the standing ovation for Sox outfielder Jason Bay, the less-heralded arrival of ex-Canadien Michael Ryder to Beantown, and the continued character development of Satchel Pooch, the Canadian dog in Darby Conley’s (not a Canadian) comic strip, Get Fuzzy.

My conclusions from this collective espionage? Americans are not threatened by Canadians but don’t quite understand them either. But then again, Canada doesn’t know itself either. I understand MacGregor’s contention that Canada is a conundrum: After much self-inspection, Canada has both an inferiority complex and an inflated ego.

Confusing? Read the book. Or maybe explore the links I’ve added to the site.

As for me, I’m eager to finish the book, talk to more Canadians on the phone, read the comics—and to cross the border again to continue my research.

Return to CanadAmerica, Part II: Double Good

2008-07-18T07:19:00.003-04:00

Continued from Part I

I woke up from a nap and removed the thin, dark blue blanket covering my head.

“Any international security forces tailing us?” I asked my wife.

“What?”

Spy stuff, I tell her.

“Oh god,” she says and then refers to me as Walter Mitty’s donut-loving cousin.

I guess we’ve ditched the double agents, so I toss the blanket onto the back seat. Another mission accomplished…

From Grand Manan, we landed at Blacks Harbour and then drove to the safe house in St. Andrew’s.

After a two-hour nap, I watched a doubleheader—Oprah and Ellen—as cell phone coverage went from Rogers to AT&T to Rogers to AT&T.

My wife and I then walked west along Water Street, past the art gallery touting http://www.twocountriesart.com/ and toward Olde Tyme Pizza.

While we waited for the Hawaiian Pizza, I glanced back and forth at the two televisions. On the monitor to my left, the Weather Network updated us on highs and lows across Canada; to my right, a station from New York aired the People’s Court.

Walking back toward the wharf, we entered the new coffee shop in town. At Honey Beans we ordered two hot beverages. The new owners, who had moved from Alberta, were still getting things in order. They needed business cards, a Web site, and an American flag to compliment the Canadian one hanging outside, but my hot chocolate and my wife’s latte hit the spot.

With sundown still two hours or so away, we finished our treats while gazing upon Passamaquoddy Bay. We discussed the possibility of someday setting up a satellite spy operation here in St. Andrews, where we could observe activities from Canada’s Navy Island to Eastport, Maine

Instead of watching the same fireworks that Eastporters would watch the reluctant spy’s wife and I walked back to the safehouse to catch the pyrotechnics on Boston’s WBZ.

I missed the show. I fell asleep long before the first flare was fired, knowing that we’d have to slink from the safehouse before the authorities could, unannounced, pop in on us.

On the road by 6:00 a.m., Walter Mitty's donut-loving cousin and his wife were at Timmy’s in St. Stephen and then across the border before the feds could say “foiled again.”

Return to CanadAmerica, Part I: Happy Days

2008-07-08T07:10:00.006-04:00

Thursday July 3, 2008
11:00 a.m., Atlantic Time

“You gonna eat that donut?” I ask the AMHL Photographer as we wait to board the boat that will ferry us from Grand Manan to mainland New Brunswick.

The donut has accompanies us for about two of our three happy days in the heart of CanadAmerica. Without a Dunkin’ Donuts or a Tim Hortons, it was surprisingly easy to find a donut. North Head Bakery was a snap to locate—way easier than finding any harbinger of hockey.

Grand Manan is all about basketball. Hoops hang above many a garage door, and the b-ball court stands out in the village centre. Hockey doesn’t even place second here. A source at a local eatery told me that a vote was taken to determine if the local arena should accommodate curlers or skaters. Curlers won the big prize, but an outdoor rink was constructed for when weather permits, which is not as often as you might think, islanders to play hockey.

Hockey has been unheralded here, but that may change because ground has been broken for a multi-purpose complex that will house the Boys and Girls Club and an upgraded ice rink. Another source told me that some islanders are skeptical about the need for an indoor ice surface, however. This doubt sounds similar to what yet another source said about the fishing industry vis-à-vis tourism: Those who land lobsters and haul in herring tolerate the tourists.

Best to keep a low profile, which as a field agent is now second nature. (I don’t stand on street corners pretending to read newspapers) Laying low for my meals at the safe house, I enjoyed the victuals and ambiance.

“Put Your Head on My Shoulders”, the Paul Anka song Warren “Potsie” Weber made famous, prompted me to ask my wife, “I wonder what Anson Carter—I mean Anson Williams—is doing?

I don’t know where the ex-Bruin or the former TV star are these days, but I enjoyed the wordless version of the hit from Happy Days as much as I’ll relish that donut to which I haven’t yet formally introduced you.

Meet the chocolate sugared donut: chocolate cake, no glaze, just granular sugar sprinkled on top and a nutty aftertaste going down. I know this because, a few days ago. I devoured a donut from the same batch as the one now in the brown paper bag.

My wife doesn’t want any part of this two-day-old beauty and grants me the rights to the free agent confection.

“You’re like a five year old,” she says. “You’ll eat anything that isn’t nailed down!”

So be it. But besides the obvious faux pas of dissing a donut, tossing it toward the trashcan—as if the donut were a basketball flying toward a hoop—would be too risky.

Unlike basketball on Grand Manan, I want to keep a low profile, especially when escape to the mainland is imminent.

To be continued...

History and "Mission" Statement

2008-07-06T19:12:00.012-04:00

“Canadian spy.” In due time, when AMHL Glory is published, I’ll reveal the person responsible for creating that moniker for me. I’ll let you in, though, on the history and evolution of my “mission.”

On the Fourth of July, 2006, while driving through New Brunswick, I first envisioned a separate Web site for readers who want to learn more about Canada. Content would be aimed Americans who would want to delve past the thick ice of silly superficialities and stereotypes: hockey freaks, Molson-minded Mounties, and eh-sayers who spell “center” with the e at the end.

Since that day two years ago, I’ve talked to many Canadians who don’t even follow hockey. I know Canadians, on both sides of the 49th parallel, who say PRAH-sess instead of PROH-cess. One Canadian goalie I know may as well pledge allegiance to Coors instead of Molson. And some stateside Canadians have no intention of returning home.

This site, then, is not only a source for enlightenment about America’s northerly neighbor but also a portal for disconnected Canadians who maybe haven’t seen the Sun (the Ottawa Sun, that is) in a while or who haven’t recently read the Globe and Mail.

In addition to links to mainstream media outlets and to satellite sites that shed light on Canada’s grass roots, I’ll deliver quick-hitting and reliable field reports (while dodging the authorities who track my every move.)

Canadianspy.blogspot.com is for Americans who want to avoid appearing on a Rick Mercer special, but the site is ultimately for Americans and Canadians—and anyone else who seeks insights about Canada. And my ultimate “mission” is to foster greater understanding between two great nations.

Oh, and almost anyone can become a “Canadian spy.” So if you’d like to pursue a challenging career in “covert ops,” or become a famous “field agent,” please send e-mail to jimfdwyer(at)gmail(dot)com.

Thanks for reading (and for not reporting me to the authorities.)

Jim Dwyer