Thursday April 15, 2004
Today was therapy day. Well, that was the most significant event. I made some really great tasting stew today, too, and bought some herbal stuff for liver support and/or repair, information about which I culled from the web before heading out into the world.
Actually, I made a lot of stew: a whole soup pot full just like I used to when I was feeding at least four regular size people.
It was a beautiful day outside today. A seemingly endless and cloudless sky along with the positive energy from the bright, warm sunshine made me forget about the generally dirty landscape for a while. More please!
Catching up on the excursion to America:
Things went well for the first half of the planned route. It was pouring rain, so while I waited in line for the ferry on the Kingston side (listening to the CD my sister burned some songs on which I hadn't heard for decades but had a hoot listening to again - Mountain of Love by Johnny Rivers, for instance :), I decided that the five bucks for the ferry over to the US was worth not getting soaked walking to the Post Office.
I was on Wolfe Island, which has no traffic by the way, heading to the other side with time to spare. The Horne ferry would leave in about 30 minutes. There were signs so I couldn't really get lost. Got to the dock and figured I was the only one wanting to go to the US side. Oh well.
Until I got even closer and saw a sign at the dead end of the road just before the ramp to the dock that said that the ferry service was "NOT OPERATIONAL" and would return to service MAY 1st. Really! I grabbed the schedule information I'd taken off the web to see what part of the fine print I managed to miss.
The Wolfe Island schedule was good about making a distinction about which dock was used in winter and which one was used after "ICE OUT". The other ferry schedule didn't think the fact that the ferry didn't even HAVE a schedule during the winter ("ICE IN"??) was not nearly as important as which dock would be used.
So I didn't actually miss any fine print, per se. Instead, I was the victim of another Useless-Information-Presented-as-Useable-Information scam.
Just so they could say they'd told me so, there was a number next to the schedule on the web advising that if I wanted more information I could call blah blah blah. I figured since I wasn't hauling dangerous chemicals or a heavy construction vehicle, etc, I didn't need much more than where and what time the ferry left for the US.
Since I wanted my mail to get to NC before the ferry would even be running, I'd have to get over to the States by land. Go tomorrow? Or go right now? The day was pretty well shot by then anyway (it was after 4 now) and the Peace Bridge isn't very far. Might as well get it over with.
Retrace my steps, listening to another CD and waiting almost an hour for the ferry back to Kingston. Headed out to the Ivy Lea/NY border crossing. On the way, I mulled over how odd my mission might seem to the guards and whether it might not be a pretty sane security strategy to keep people with dubious reasons for entering the US on this side of the border. I mean, to me it was rational to reduce exposure to threats by reducing the number of entries. And if you needed a fairly non-political reason to deny entry, "I want this mail to get to NC as soon as possible.", would be a good choice.
I have also learned to divulge nothing that is not asked when crossing. And to keep my answers short but true. I had been hoping to use the more relaxed entry point because I figured they'd be less officious. They wouldn't be dealing with large numbers of vehicles (one ferry load at a time) and certainly no commercial trucking or moving truck, etc. Surely they'd not have a problem, especially if I was on foot. It's about 3 blocks max from the dock to the Cape Vincent Post Office. And if they did, I was going to ask them just to mail them for me and I'd stay on my side. Worth a shot, right?
Now, I was headed to the same Port of Entry that I'd used on numerous occasions while working in the States and who had rejected my entry at least once. This might require a different approach. So I considered my options and finally got to the exit ramp marked "Bridge to USA" only to see a single line of transports head to butt that extended to my left as far as I could safely peer while trying to determine if it was safe for me to proceed through the gap they'd left for the ramp. At the same time I am thinking "this could take a lot longer than I'd thought" and "I hope that line is just for transports and there's another up here for others".
The little green light that says a lane is open wasn't visible until I'd gone around a curve in the road, but there was one and it was marked with a No Trucks symbol. There was one car at the window and after a really short wait, it was my turn. I handed the guard my passport as instructed by the sign that said "have ID in hand".
She: "What's the purpose of your trip?"
Me: "Personal business."
Usually the next questions are to ascertain that I am indeed not going to be working without a permit. But NO....
"What exactly will you be doing?"
"Dropping off some documents."
"What kind of documents?"
"Financial documents."
"Pertaining to a business?"
"No. Personal financial documents."
"So you're going to the Post Office."
"Yes." (Mentally scratching my head as to how she got there so quickly without me. I really only need a mail box, but yeah, the Post Office, that'll do. I don't think they're open this late but, if it keeps her happy I'm not going to complain. She visibly relaxed at this point. Good. Weird but good.)
"Where will you be going?"
(Yikes! I hadn't even thought about a city. I figured I'd just accost the first mail box I could find and then turn around. My luck was turning sort of, because there was a highway sign within view with two city names. Only problem was I wasn't quite sure which was closer to the border. )
"Watertown." (I am gesturing ahead of me towards the sign.)
"Will you be leaving anything else in the US?"
"No."
"Will you be stopping any where else?
"Not planning to."
Back came my passport and I was allowed to go through. The whole thing only took 5 minutes. So much for border delays, I thought. Now I'd committed to driving to Watertown. Really, that's what I intended to do.
But the situation was ripe for me getting lost. It was dark and raining and every transport that passed and got into my lane left me in heavy fog conditions. So it's understandable that I missed finding anything that looked like a sure-fire mail box exit to me. It might have been the one with the sign that had "Watertown" on one line with "Ctr" on the next line. I figured it must be a shopping "Ctr". It couldn't mean city "Ctr", right? Because a sign that's long enough for "Watertown" has plenty of room for "Downtown" on the next line. At least that's what I thought.
About 10 minutes south of Watertown I decided I'd probably missed an exit, got off and was preparing to get back on going the other way when I noticed another road, right there, saying there was a town thataway. I'd been talking myself out of just such bushwacking by telling myself I didn't want to have to explain that I'd been in the US for a day and a half because I got lost.
But this little town was, according to the signs at the intersection of the northbound ON ramp, north as well. If I found a mail box here, then I didn't have to figure out where the Post Office was in Watertown at all and I could just trundle back into Canada without getting off the highway again.
The downtown business area for this little place was not well marked and I was again driving out of a populated area hopefully on my way to another ON ramp for 81 North. Before I see anything like that, I am in another (real) village with the downtown right on the main highway like it's supposed to be.
It's still raining and I really don't want to get more lost, so I park as soon as I can and get out figuring I'll be able to see the Post Office from the corner up ahead and if not, I'll find someone who can tell me where it is. On my way I notice a blue box. Yay! Good enough.
Mission finally over, and there's a sign indicating how to get back on 81. And I'd found a really nice little town, too. Adams, NY. Pretty looking. Maybe I'll go back to visit one day.
As I approach the Canadian border, there is a sign saying trucks are to stay to the right. There's a passenger van ahead of me and the driver is acting like they are lost or want to turn around. The rest of the road to our right is bumper to bumper transports with a couple of cars once in a while. There's only one lane now on the left and I am figuring it is for the "Not Trucks" like me and the van.
As we get closer to the array of lanes we find that there a no lanes marked as open to the left of the line of trucks. We have driven at least a half a mile, probably more, since the person ahead of me stopped a couple of times because they were not sure they were in the right place. They have to be kidding, right? I have no intention of turning around to get behind this line of trucks, especially because the lane to my right, although full of trucks, is clearly marked for private passenger vehicles.
There's no way we could have known that the trucks were three (yeah, 3!) lanes deep and I have no idea how many other victims have piled in behind me. The van and I put our signals on and edge up closer. The trucks move ahead one truck length, but don't leave room for a car.
Sit a little longer, wondering how two sides of the same border can be organized so completely differently and whether this is some stunt on Canada's part to counter the bad press they've been getting about being a haven for terrorists.
Do you think we'll be treated as well as Iraq has now that we've been unmasked as knowingly aiding and abetting the kind of people who caused the whole war on terrorism in the first place? [Cretien's decision not to support the US takes on a different light, too. Did he know?]
The van gets weary and starts to leave, then changes its mind and gets in line behind me. Aside: turning around at a border is just asking for trouble, I think, so I'm not doing it. Besides, the nice American signage told us pretty clearly that the last US Exit was back there.
Someone in the van gets the attention of the truck driver whose truck is just behind the front of my jeep. I can't hear them but they are discussing something. The van stays where it is so I figure (okay, hope) that they have arranged for us two to get into the line in the next truck shift. The car behind the van has edged diagonally toward the trucks as well, just so they know we all want to merge: a common traffic manuevre.
These trucks are pretty huge up close and although we do edge a little bit closer, when the trucks indicate they aren't slowing down, I stop. Another change up and the guy who spoke with the van people is ahead of me. The driver behind him has not moved and is nodding we insignificant specs that he's going to let us in. (Turns out there are only the three of us after all.)
Once I get to the wicket, and I am allowed back in after my 2 hour absence to put something in the mail during which time I did not buy anything and most certainly did not pick up any mail, I ask if the guard told off the truckers for being in the "No Trucks" lane. He looks surprised and says "It is?" Yep, it's marked that way. But they had a problem with one of the trucks and, etc, etc. I say whatever, the truckers could have let us in - we can't take nearly as much time as they do. Turns out the ornery trucker was from Quebec and the guard puts this forward as the reason he wouldn't let us in. Those Francophones, you know how they are.... right.
Got back to Kingston and relaxed to get the kinks out of my back.
Too bad about the ferry being out. It would have been a really simple trip. Next time.
On the way back I figured out why the US guard made the wonderful leap she did: all the way from "Personal financial papers" to "Post Office". When I crossed the border, there was only one day left before the US Tax Filing deadline. She assumed that I was mailing tax returns which people do at a Post Office to make sure it gets postmarked properly and for which the USPS keeps them open late.
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