The trip to Ottawa was extremely enjoyable. Ottawa is not like toronto – it has a landscape. It has hills, rivers. There are power dams in Ottawa because there are raging rivers from which huge amounts of force can be set to work and set aside for others’ use.
I like Ottawa. I like public servants – they are an interesting breed, like Hobits. Everyone is fond of Hobits but wouldn’t want to be one. When I arrived at Ottawa I was at a party for public servants, thrown by one of my favorite public servants, A. The party had one of my favorite themes: being Scottish, and one of my favorite drinks: Scotch. I don’t have a picture of Scotch, but I have a picture of M, an Ottawogian public servant:
I’ve been told it isn’t proper to call them Ottawogians, that the preferable term is “Ottawons”. However, “Ottawons” is a dumb word, so I will not use it. If you ask me for a reason why it is a dumb word I will impercinate the most powerful argumentative method that analytic philosophers have devised, and look at you as though you are crazy.
But enough about Robbie Burns parties and Ottawogian public servants, the real reason I went to Ottawa was to spend time with M and M:
And, while M was at work on Monday, public-servating-it-up, M and I went downtown to take advantage of our rights as can-speak-French Canadians (as opposed to French-speaking Canadians) to have a tour of Parlimant in French. It felt a bit noodly for us, both French Immersion kids, to be given a tour by ann anglophone fully in French. The tour was excellent – we were the only two on it. Although, at one time she did speak in English to me, and it felt like a very high law had been violated (not altogether surprising, it was the law of “do not speak English in class!) Compliments to M for the excellent tour (yes, her name was M as well).
And just for good measure, here is the best photo I took in Ottawa. It almost makes the expense of shooting real film worthwhile.