With toques secured and skates tightened, Andrew and I packed up our mittens and hightailed it up to Ottawa for the new-to-Ontario mid-winter long-weekend. It was a weekend full of ice sculptures, ice skating, freezing rain, and frozen feet; I can surely tell you this: Ottawa is cold.

We stopped off in Kingstonia for lunch, and visited the good ol’ (and fairly destroyed) Queen’s campus… which was comfortingly familiar yet strangely alien. That whole “you can never go back” thing is remarkably true, and I was anxious about spontaneously turning into a pillar of salt the whole time. At any rate, after a sub-par lunch at the Toucan, we got back on the road with Winterlude on our minds. The sun was shining in a way that seemed to mock this never ending season, so we donned our sunglasses and sang mid-90s indie rock the whole way. And then there were snowpants. I swear to you, snowpants are the new skinny jeans in O-town. The Toronto Hipsters freeze their asses off in their high-top converse all winter long, while the Ottawa-breed of Hipster embraces unattractive warmth with such ease. It’s remarkable, really. Anyway, we skated on the canal, browsed the ice sculptures, rocked out on Xbox Rock Band, and somehow managed to keep moderately warm for most of the time. We even crossed the bridge to Hull and ate poutine (naturally). After a sojourn at the Museum of Civilization and short detour of aimlessness in Brockville, we made it back to Toronto… which actually feels practically tropical to me now.

Sandals soon. Sandals soon. Sandals soon. 

À bientôt, Ottawa.