A traveling day

Sandwiched between the congested departure from Manhattan (thank goodness I was leaving the city rather than coming in), making my way through the maze of interstates and thruways on the other side of the George Washington Bridge and the hectic surroundings of Montreal,  I found a wonderfully peaceful drive through the Adirondacks.

The wonderful spring diversity of greens in newly unfolding deciduous leaves, punctuated by evergreens, was at its peak.  So beautiful, surrounded by the rocky cliffs and mountains that are part of the landscape there.  

There wasn’t a single overlook pull-off along the way (why, I have no idea), so I wasn’t able to take a photo. Aggravating.  Then down into the plains below and the apple orchards in full flower.  Wonderful. 

I’d left Manhattan at 8:30 am and crossed the border about 4 pm.  I said “bon jour” to the customs agent — he spoke to me in French (hey, maybe my pronunciation was OK), but then scolded me when I couldn’t respond in French to what he was asking.  OK, I thought.  

The drill is simple.  

Where do you live?  Asheville, NC. Where are you going?  Our house in Le Bic.  How long will you be there?  4 months. Do you have anything that you’ll leave at your cottage (that’s for duty payments). I said I had two paintings that we’d bought in Canada (in Nova Scotia). He asked if I had a receipt.  I said no, but I have the artist’s book to confirm that he’s based in Canada.  Everything else is basically clothes and things we’ll bring back, more or less. Did I have firearms, cigarettes, alcohol, pepper spray, etc?  Well, no.  So I was waved on.  All easy.

After navigating a bit of a maze around Montreal, I managed to land in Drummondville for my overnight.  Halfway between Montreal and Quebec City, it seems to be a thriving place.  

I booked a final room near the highway in their “Valentine” suite, complete with heart-shaped jacuzzi.

Why you’d stay here off the highway for any sort of suite baffles me!