Pictou - Port Hawkesbury

The night was somewhat sleepless. Not because I had a headache, but because around 1 a.m., two teenagers decided to create some drama in front of the hotel. While he had his voice somewhat under control, she yelled 'I hate you' at least a hundred times. I was tempted to open the window and scream 'I hate you, too', but then the other hotel guests might have hated me as well, and quiet finally settled in shortly before 2 a.m. It just takes a while to fall back asleep.

The hotel is truly a gem, and Linda, the hotel owner from China, who actually goes by Ling (who knows why they all give themselves English names), keeps me company in the oversized breakfast room. She tells me that she was about to call the police because of the noise. The breakfast is simple but lovely. Yogurt in glasses and real cutlery. Toast and a mini croissant, which would be better off not being served. I take the banana with me. Ling is happy that foreign guests are coming again and tells me she wants to go to Hamburg. A friend of hers lives there. When I leave, she proudly shows me her living room for her guests. She is truly sweet, how she is so proud of her hotel.

On the drive, the inevitable happens, as it always does when I travel like this. I arrive. That usually happens around 8-12 days in, depending on how quickly one acclimates. You get used to the rhythm, the places you visit become pure joy without any excitement, and you think about everything that moves you. For me, it's still my father, who died 15 years ago. I always take him on such a journey and I miss him particularly then. I also carry my mother, who is now 83 and reads these reports, in my thoughts. I always hope she is doing well and I am so grateful to her for raising me so openly as I am. It makes traveling so much easier. And then I think of my brother, who has his birthday today. There are a few tears as well - but hey, all is good. Arriving is always emotional too.

The pictures I post here and the ones I have already posted can't even come close to describing the vastness of this country. I think of winter, when everything changes here, although in Pictou, it's not as dramatic, says Ling. Just minus 15 degrees compared to the usual minus 30 degrees around. Today is a warm day, the temperature gauge in the car shows 25 degrees, and I enjoy sitting down for a while in every place where I stop, basking in the warming sun. Often, I am completely alone. The beaches are deserted. Only the lighthouses are always busy. I drive along the coast and I notice how the leaves slowly start to change color. The Indian summer is approaching.

In the local Walmart, I buy a salve for my head and have a pharmacist take a look. Greta says my eyes are clear and that's a good sign. She's quite fun. After all, she wants to come to Germany too, but she's afraid of flying. What a scaredy-cat. 

The motel is adorable and you can even sit at a small table outside. Which I do quite a bit. Tomorrow, I will drive the famous Cabot Trail and then stay at a motel way up north, which I probably partially bought with the price of the room. They say the sunsets are amazing. I'm curious to find out.