I sure as heck didn't. Well, I peed there. Several times, in fact - but I wouldn't go so far as to make such a sweeping statement about my urinary abilitites. P.E.I. is an island. But it's a deceivingly large island, and my pee was only on it for a week. To say that one woman alone put the pee IN the P.E.I, is ludicrous. You might be able to get away with saying that I put a little pee on P.E.I.
No, YOU shut up.
Our trip was fab! Up there are some poppies I discovered on the beach, growing in a small cluster. Poppies are used to make Opium. If you eat them raw, you just feel like crap for about an hour, then you have diarrhea. I, uh, read that somewhere.
We lucked out with the weather (except the ONE dang day we visited Bruce on the Mags - but what can ya do?). Basically, we spent the week at Corn's 'rents' place near Souris and made an early-week jaunt to see Bruce in the Magdalen Islands (which I FINALLY know how to spell correctly, much to Bruce's joy).
The Magdalen Islands are a part of Quebec - but they are closer to Nova Scotia and PEI and ferry to them leaves from Souris, PEI. The Mags are a series of small islands, connected (except for one) by small bridges. The population is around 12, 000 - and the main industry is fishin', baybee. The landscape is surreal. Mostly sand dunes. Some stumpy trees. You feel very much on sea-level with the ocean. The villages are small and sparse and if you sneeze, it makes the gossip rounds.
The ferry ride is a 5 hour haul each way. Here's the first bit of land you see after 5 hours at sea:
Bruce tells me this is Entry Island. Population: 100. It is the one, NOT connected to the other islands. Bruce is perhaps more aware of this than anyone since he preaches on this island regularly - shuttled there onboard a boat or a small aircraft from the 'mainland'.
I think Entry Island looks like it could be from
the TV show, "Lost"....all prehistoric and looming.
If you look closely to the right, you see a few houses. It's on this jut of land, that the locals live. The rest of the island is giant rolling hills made of chocolate and Hersey syrup. I was all awestruck at how these people could live so cut-off from civilization...til Bruce told me that one of his parishoners there has a flatscreen HDTV and is more tech-savvy than anyone. So, I guess if you can't eat at a McDonald's, you can at least watch the commercials.
Me and Bruce:
Oh! And about the ferry. It was actually pretty decent - and equipped with a bar, restaurant, cafeteria, movie theatre, arcade and gift shop. I worried that I might get a tad seasick, til I read up on the ferry before departure: The boat is equipped with stabilizers that reduce pitch and roll (front to back and side to side movements). I was feeling aces, til about 3 hours in, this happened:
I was dozing off in an area with a bunch of big cushy seats, all in rows. I roused slightly when I heard the sound of a man coughing. The cough became more severe and in seconds, turned into a full blown episode involving phlegm and gagging noises. I turned to look across the aisle at a middle-aged fellow dabbing at his mouth with a kleenex, trying to subdue his coughing fit.
By this point, I was fully awake. And slightly revolted.
THEN, I saw a chubby, red-faced little girl - no older than 9 - run to a chair in front of him, clutching a barfbag to her face. The girl yakked into the bag. I looked away and felt my stomach begin to turn. At this point (I kid you not!) an elderly woman who was sitting right in front of me stood up, holding a barf bag in her hand. She wasn't even using it. It was still neatly folded...but the sight of it waving around in her gnarled little, liver-spotted hand was enough to make me believe we might have a scene from Stand By Me if this continued for much longer. I was sickened, and it seemed everywhere I looked, something was ready to set off my bile ducts.
Corn was gone to the 'loo during this entire little scene. When he came back, he walked past Little Miss Barfbrains (her mom had been kneeling in front of her). He said the mom looked up at him with a deer-in-headlights look of panic. Like Corn somehow had inflicted this horror on her child. We left. And my nausea subsided.
See? Why in this picture, I am having the time of my life (I am actually just happy to be away from vomiting children):
The rest of the trip, back in P.E.I was relaxing and fab. Corn's 'rents always treat us so well and feed us til we overflow. And now - from one island to another - we're back in Montreal (I always forget we're on an island. I think it's because we don't have a moat with gators like most islands.