[photos] “We may get detained at the Canadian border, or even denied entry,” I told mom as we were on our road trip from Albany, New York, through Massachusetts, New Hampshire and into Maine and Canada. “It’s because of a protest I tried to attend back in 2003.”
“Oh my goodness, I told you not to do that kind of stuff,” she complains, as usual, when hearing about my shenanigans.
“Look, I’m not going to play safe just to live up to your sheltered life ideals, I want to practice what I believe in and fight for social justice. If I have to suffer some consequences, it’s nothing compared to what other people have to face when fighting against injustice.”
“Oh, it is so hard to talk to you,” mom’s daily refrain.
Maine is a huge state to drive through, and so are even the smaller of the Canadian provinces. We made it to Portland, ME for our first night, dining at J’s Oyster, a place we’ve dined at before. A few years ago I lived for a summer in Portland, and this was my first visit back to this town that I adore. At the hotel, I ran into my Jeep twin Amy, a woman with the same purple Jeep Wrangler as me, same X Games special edition, albeit she had the 4 door model. We were laughing and taking pictures together as we basked in the Jeep love. The second day, we drove Route 1 up the coast of Maine, definitely the slowest route, and bypassed the Lobster Festival in Rockland, as mom had her fill the night before. We made it all the way to the border, but not past it, for the second night. Woke in the morning to a lake view from our tiny hotel. When we did finally cross into Canada, we were asked to go inside for further questioning, and I explained my previous entry denial due to a protest, we were let through. I love Canada, and wish I could live there permanently, such a better country. The roads were beautiful, well maintained, sparsely populated, and richly green. We drove and drove through New Brunswick and into Nova Scotia, landing in Dartmouth, across the bay from Halifax.
The next day was another drive to Prince Edward Island, where we had an amazing hotel in Charlottetown, with a view of the waterfront, boats, and mom was happy. It was a cute town to walk around, and we also explored the nearby coast, Point Prim, a lighthouse, and ate tons of lobster the entire trip. And the next day, we were already making the long trek back to Maine, through Maine, and back to New York state.
I was surprised that mom let us pick up a hitch hiker whom we encountered at a gas station at the base of Confederation Bridge, the only bridge out of PEI that charged the ransom of $46. JD was Chinese, spoke Mandarin, Cantonese, another dialect, and English. He was only 22, a student in Chicago, but had already lived in Washington state for school, Australia, and was hitchhiking across all of Canada, and had previously traveled across the U.S., Europe, and China. I was impressed by his lifestyle and ability to really go after what he wanted and network his way into such adventures. Had another nice lunch break for more lobster roles with JD, as he demonstrated his adventurous spirit by climbing on the rocks of the bay until security warned him away, and took pictures of the touristy sights. We dropped him at the border of Maine, as he attempted to catch another ride to Quebec, and then onward West.
Amazingly, we were detained by the US Customs and Border Protection for over two hours, as they searched the car, interrogated us about the last 40 years of existence, photographed and finger printed us. This was new treatment for mom, but something I have come to expect from agents of the US state. They interrogated mom about her citizenship states between 1975 and 1977, as she was transitioning from a student visa to earning citizenship. They asked about all of our marriages, previous addresses, arrest records, employment records, colleges attended, and why we looked different in our pictures, and why we were driving a new car. They graciously retrieved our jackets from the car, but we were not allowed to use the restroom, and hadn’t eaten, so we were not prepared for such a stop over. And it was killing our time on the road. In the end, the agent blamed the entire episode on a computer problem, yet warned that if I attempted to cross the border again, I would likely face similar treatment. It took us hours through northern rural Maine to eventually find a hotel, late at night, exhausted and hungry. Welcome back to the police state of ‘Merica. Unfortunately, the bad border treatment kinda ruined the nice memories of our beautiful but quick drive through Canada. We passed through Portland one more time for our last fill of lobster. [photos]