Day 088: Centre longitudinal du Canada

When we were growing up in the Middle East and Canada and would go back to India and drive from Delhi or Meerut to my mother’s hometown where my paternal grandmother still resides, we would often stop at a ‘dhaba’ (restaurant) in a town called Bulandshahar. I was blown away to see signs for an Indian restaurant. I stopped by just to fill my water bottle and get a cinnamon roll for Jonathon and myself. I was recounting my love for that spot and that food when the owner told me that they had all those items on the menu.

I cannot recount to you in words (but yes, perhaps on paper with the smells and grease stains of the food) how powerful an experience and visit this conversation, the food, and this place was. I cannot wait to return.

We ran into this hilarious duo who are roadtripping west to go on their own wilderness adventues. Together and separately. Lovely post-lunch conversation.

There was a couple selling wild blueberries and I stopped to talk to them. Though they are married, they live in separate homes, about 30 km apart. He does the cooking, she does the cleaning.

I stopped at a gas station to refill water bottles and a cross-canada cyclist snuck heading in the opposite direction SNUCK UP ON ME. The highway was a divided one all day so we didn’t meet too many cyclists and it was lovely meeting Darryl.

I’m looking for a particular flower that some cyclists headed towards Southern Ontario from Calgary had shown me photos of. This isn’t it but still beautiful. I’ve missed the sheer abundance of crickets and the buzz they make. Something akin to Indians watching their favourite cricket team.*

Came across this incredible sight and Jonathon had the more appropriate lens to get this image.

Long days, long days.

*By this I mean the Indians who have dots not feathers, I can make this joke because I am from India and not because I’m encouraging you to make such jokes at home.