Reflections on crooked walking

In the past four (half)days, Dean and I have hoofed it all over the Granite City. I’m content with what I’ve seen.

While visiting Dean’s office on Friday I was witness to a debate over what’s the best neighbourhood in Aberdeen, and at this point I can educatedly say that Rosemount is it. Nicest park, best grocery, convenient coffee shops, requisite little Italian spot, 10 minutes to downtown, the hospital, the big box stores, our selected church, and 20 minutes to the ocean. Lucky for us.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that we haven’t had our fair share of curious encounters. In fact, in two days we’ve seen a disproportionate amount of crazy old people— first a man accosted us while crossing the street, grabbed Dean’s arm while emphatically shouting in his indiscernible Aberdonian accent (sounded like curses to me, but who can tell?), then this morning a gent was sweeping the same 5-inch patch of road over and over and over and over. And finally on our way home this evening we turned a corner to find a man waiting for the bus in trousers and a neck tie… nothing else.

And some photos from the past week:

Our last Canadian meal (thank you White Spot)

Air Canada comfort
Almost a full moon—enough to reflect off the icy landscape below

39 Wallfield Cres

two floors up, our front door

The yellow kitchen and our first meal—chicken tikka masala

view of the city from the kitchen window

Hot guy at the beach

the Regiers, enjoying the ocean air