Long Voyage Back to the Land of Ice and Snow

I'd been packing, unpacking, re-packing and imagining worst case scenarios for over a week.   I enjoy the fun of seeing some place new as much as the next person.  It's just that the process of getting there is so daunting.  I haven't flown anywhere since arriving in Mexico from Korea 14 years ago.  But it is long overdue for me to step out of my comfortable Huatulco bubble and revisit New Brunswick.  Sure, this is where I come from but it definitely qualifies as a new place.

Huatulco Airport. That is not my flight.

Complications began immediately.  I had copies and photos of all my vaccinations but they needed to see the ArriveCan code. I'd filled in the app as soon as allowed but hadn't received that code to flash.  I had planned on showing the copies in Toronto but hadn't considered that Mexico might not let me on the plane.

The man in charge of boarding passes thought my Canadian vaxes must not have satisfied Canada Customs. I had Cansino, Moderna and AstraZeneca.  He let me board anyway but warned me to get a Covid test in Mexico City between flights.

So, away we go. At least as far as Mexico City, dreading the possibility of losing my non-refundable ticket.

Mexico. I foundthe test centre. Negative. Phew!  Even better, when I was looking around for my next boarding pass, a helpful young woman who caught the completely lost look on my face, offered to check out my ArriveCan app. I hadn't completed it! There was a whole series of questions I'd missed. Bang. The code popped right up and I was on my way, boarding pass in hand, but with little time to spare.

Next stop: Toronto.

Killing time and trying to sleep away 7 hours until the next flight to New Brunswick.

Next day, another 8 hour wait for a bus.  And everything was so incredibly cold.  Fiona was on the way and driving cold Atlantic wind our way.   Fiona was officially a tropical hurricane so shouldn't it have been more tropical. It felt more like an Arctic hurricane.

 As soon as I landed in Fredericton and stood on Canadian soil for the first time in many years, my bucket list of things to do, swimming and adventure camping, tipped completely over.  The temperature was cruel and unseasonal.

Dollarama has fun Halloween things!

And warm hats!  Nice!

I'm grubby, cold and hungry but I have a new hat. 

William's Seafood is a familiar sight and the source of my first real meal since breakfast at home 30 hours ago.

Scallops and chips. I devoured every warm greasy mouthful.

With 5 hours to kill, I wandered the Saint John River, looking for familiar things.

This boarded up building used to be the Fredericton Museum.

Let's hope they convert it into something lasting and cultural instead of letting it rot a few years before demolition.

My ex had a summer job here one year.

Every year the riverbanks flood. Some years are worse than others.

The tall man below explained these poles  had been erected to mark the flood levels for different years. Recently, the river caused a lot of structural damage to downtown buildings, including the Fredericton Public Library.

This makeup and nails boutique for ladies used to be United Bookstores, a secondhand bookstore with cigarettes, candy and gaming cards.  It was my last minimum wage job before leaving this town behind.

On weekend nights, the  place was surrounded by panhandlers hustling university students on their way to trendy bars.  I was glad the store closed at 10 and I was out of there before the fights began.

One cold  winter night a couple of scruffy runaway teenage girls came in to borrow the phone. We weren't supposed to but this seemed like a worthy exception. They had just gotten off a bus. One had a plan to hook up with some friends she knew but they included some of the sketchy street people outside.

 The other girl decided she didn't like the smell of that any more than I did. She wanted to call an aunt who lived in town. The girls parted ways that night. One became part of the panhandling community and the other disappeared. Until summer, when a young girl came into the store for candy and asked if I remembered her.  Of course I did but I hadn't recognized her. She was healthy, well dressed and fed.  Living with her aunt and going back to school.  Glad she listened to her instincts.

I found a great place to easily fill an hour.

It was finally time for the last leg of this long trip.  Maritime Bus is a much smaller operation than I expected. Transportation services have taken a sharp decline since I've been here.  I don't remember who described the melancholy feel of bus stations but I always thought he was on to something.  This place certainly had it.  There were only 3 other passengers travelling with me.  There was a young woman clutching a romance novel, almost fighting back her tears but losing a few. A big sheepish awkward man dropped her off.  The other 2 passengers were so shy the ticket taker could barely hear them speak. A woman came in asking for a ticket to Newfoundland. For non-Canadian readers, there are no buses to Newfoundland. It's an island. She walked out confused and flustered.

When my ride to Saint John finally arrived, it was half-sized but big enough for us. I sat up front and talked with the driver. He had retired a few years ago but hated it. They can't find enough drivers so they called him back.

We were just passing Oromocto when I realized I had forgotten my big backpack at the station, the one with the warm coat I needed ASAP.  The driver told me to call the station right away because the guy working there was locking up and going home for the night in 10 minutes. He even lent me his phone to make the call.  He promised to send it on the next day. No charge. Maritime Bus might be a small organization for public transportation but they have some of the nicest workers ever.

Mom and Dad are just 10 minutes away from the Saint John terminal.  I was home.