Our day in Ottawa was also the first day of a heatwave. Not exactly something one would expect in Canada. While temps were forecast to reach over 100 degrees in New Jersey, they would only reach the mid-90s in Ottawa.
That's still hot for a day mostly spent outdoors.
The gelato was very good, too.
We went with an enormous three scoop dish because we could not make up our minds: chocolate picante, chocolate orange, and maple something. We should have gone with the raspberry sorbet, but since we were in Canada, we went with maple.
Had we done a deeper dive into the gelato scene in Ottawa we might have found Stella Luna, which is related to the Stella Luna gelato we had two days later.
As we started our walk back to the car we paused to take a picture of Notre Dame Cathedral. Unlike the larger one by the same name in Montreal, this one is free to visit when there are no services taking place. Someone in front of the cathedral invited us inside, saying encouragingly that services were just starting and that they were in English. I'll give him partial credit. Services started at least ten minutes earlier and they were bilingual.
Already inside, we stayed. My French is okay, not nearly as strong as people think it is. Unlike the bilingual worship service I attended in Liege where every line was translated, this one did sections in one language before switching to the other. The scripture (which was the famous story of the loaves and fishes) was in French, but I caught enough words to follow along. The sermon started in English before switching to French (when I struggled to follow completely). Don does not speak French. The priest is African and spoke with a thick accent, making even his English hard to understand. He clearly preferred speaking French.
What I did get out of the service was that the lesson of the loaves and fishes is about sharing. The French portion was about missionary Francis Xavier who while imprisoned shared the communion elements with his captors. The bread during communion is to give us the energy we need to share God's love. The wine is because we become thirsty. Not sure how we lost the fish from the original story, or if they tied into the message. For me it was fascinating to hear both languages in the gothic cathedral. When I struggled to understand, I stared at the arched cobalt-blue ceiling. Don said he mostly used the time to study the cathedral. We did not take any pictures since tourism was not allowed at that time. We also snuck out before communion.
Our walking tour guide raved about Park Gatineau, so we drove there rather than heading back to Smiths Falls. Sunset isn't until nearly 9 pm near the equinox, so we were lulled into thinking we had plenty of time to find dinner. The park was mostly closed. We paused at Pink Lake, named not because the green lake is pink under certain lighting, but because it was found by someone with the last name Pink. If I thought I could get that concept explained to the Andre Pinck, my second host father, I would, but the thought would get lost too easily.
The park is enormous. After looking at the grounds for the McKenzie King estate we asked Google Maps for directions back to Smiths Falls. Nearly 25 years ago Don and I had an experience that still sticks with us. We rented a car and were driving in France's Loire Valley when we arrived at the only restaurant in a small town. Though there were still patrons enjoying dinner, the kitchen had closed for the night. I used my French (which was stronger in those days) to beg for a bowl of soup. To this day that was the best bowl of soup I ever had. To the best of our recollection, it was asparagus soup. My mouth still waters thinking about it.
Looking at our phones, we realized we would not make it back to Smiths Falls until 9 pm, and that most (if not all) restaurants would be closed. Our mission was to find a place to eat.
name, the town was heavily French. The parking sign was completely in French. Menus were in French first, English second. We looked at three places before deciding on a tiny place that looked closed. It turned out everyone was seated in the back in what more closely resembled a treehouse than a restaurant. Next to us was a group of twelve people -- seemed like two "real" adults, and ten young adults. No one was in a rush. Though it was after 8, everyone relaxed into the evening. I never did figure out where the group was from or what language they were speaking, though Don and I were both very curious. An international trip? Mission? Fun? They were all fit, but very clean as if they showered after the days' activities (unlike us) and their only plan for the night was that meal with each other.
The drive back did take us through Ottawa again, so we would have found something, but sitting in that small town with a waiter excited to practice his English on us, made us feel as if we were on a grand adventure instead of a long weekend road trip.
My sweet potato poutine will likely come up in future conversations, but unlike our 2001 asparagus soup, the rest of the meal will not.
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