It's a Culture Thing - Day 2

Today was find-the-cemetery day.  Except I couldn't find it.  I had directions.  I even had GPS coordinates.  The GPS coordinates took me directly to the house of an elderly gentleman who tried to be helpful.  "No, no cemetery here; try up the road just past where X used to be."  I tried "up the road" to no avail, and since I also had no cell service for additional searching, I finally had to give up.

I went to Bancroft, home of "97.7 Moose FM," instead.  I kid you not.  It's the only radio station I can find, and they never give the call letters, just "Moose FM."  Bancroft is a bustling metropolis of about 3,000 souls.  It gives the impression of being a real town.  I found the teeny-tiny Bancroft library to see if they had a bigger local history collection than the Maynooth library (smaller town, bigger library).  I found a geographical reference to my lost cemetery.  But where could one find the translator from "Lot 20, Concession 5" to a navigable location?

The librarian was helpful but easily stumped; then, other patrons got involved.  Nothing like a mystified American to get Canadian charity flowing.  One patron looked up the cemetery (complete with a very detailed map) via a local funeral home website.  Another patron (a substitute mail carrier) suggested I talk with the Boulter postal chief who "knows everything" about the area she serves.  Tomorrow, I try again.

Next stop:  The Bancroft Times, the biggest local newspaper, to search for missing obituaries.  In addition to putting out a weekly newspaper, the oldest in Bancroft, the Times appears to be Bancroft's version of Kinko's -- retail office supplies and full-service copying.  I requested obituaries for three deaths.  It was as if they get such requests every day.  They pulled the papers (real newspapers, two years in neatly bound volumes, the other year a stack of newspapers sandwiched between sheets of cardboard).  Then, I was invited into the back room so that I could have a go at finding my obituaries.  I found two out of three.  Since I could scan them with an app on my tablet, no charge.  Incredibly generous.

More cultural stuff:

I'm learning that this area is much like Oregon in that logging was its main industry, historically.

It is really hot here.  Nowhere named Canada should be this hot, even in July.  If I knew how to translate centigrade to farenheit I would know how hot it is.  But I don't.  Maybe it's better that way.  I'm not going to look it up.  I know water boils at 100 C and freezes at 0 C.  That's sufficient.  I'm certain we haven't exceeded boiling yet.

After my unrewarding cemetery hunt and my very rewarding obituary hunt, I realized that dehydration might be setting in.  Off to Tim Horton's (a Bancroft hot spot) for iced tea.  And they tried to hand me a bottle.  The same thing happened at dinner on Day 1.  Order iced tea; a bottle appears.  I don't drink icky, flavored iced tea.  Today I decided to negotiate:

• Me:  You have steeped tea on your menu board
• TH server:  Yes, but it's hot tea
• Me:  Please take the biggest cup you have, fill it with ice, and pour tea on the ice
• TH server:  Okay!

Problem solved.  I have imported a little American culture of which we can be proud.

My hostel has a shop next door that purports to sell lattes and butter tarts (a local delicacy, apparently).  Outside, it has a collection of carved bears (just like Oregon) and carved moose (not like Oregon at all).  Here they are (click on the pictures to enlarge):

One moose, extra-large

Two welcoming moose, restrained (have they been bad?)

Really?

I found the belly buttons on the restrained pair to be especially humorous.  The hours, not so much.

Finally, here is my view from dinner tonight.  I enjoyed it from air conditioned comfort.  My only problem was that the malt vinegar, which was presented in a spray bottle, spritzed my Kindle on each application to the fish.

Bancroft @ For the Halibut Fish and Chips