On the road again

I used to accompany a friend to her boss’s annual Christmas party. A terrific guy, but his idea of a party was just a bit understated.

Not only was this party dry, it featured a long game of “guess our location.” This game involved our host showing slides taken during his numerous travels across the country, for each of which we were to register on a piece of paper our best guess as to where he was when the photo was taken. Winners got a modest token for their geographic prowess, losers an eraser to correct our mistakes. Did I mention the party was dry?

So you will understand my relative reluctance to spend too many columns on our travels, though, of course, readers have indeed suffered a few. But getting out of the Valley for a brief time once or twice a year is useful not only for reminding one why living here is great, but also to collect political perspective if not political intelligence.

Our recent sojourn to the nation’s capital — to celebrate our daughters’ considerable, if I may be permitted to say so, academic achievement — proved to be no exception. My first epiphany, such as they are these days, was when, after passing the regrowth of trees by the side of the road north of Windsor - trees that are again taller than our Premier - I realized we had driven from Mount Uniacke to the Quebec border without leaving four-lane heaven.

Yup, that’s right, folks. The highway from Fredericton through Edmunston is now a four-lane beauty. Completed, might I add, when oil prices were a lot lower than they will be when they finish the 101.

Hard to accept New Brunswick as more “with it” than Nova Scotia, and though Mr. Morse has successfully built enough fires to have the Hantsport section near completion, the road from there through Windsor to Uniacke sends a clear, sad message about our inability as a province to plan, to project-manage, to stay ahead of the curve, to execute.

After a terrific ferry ride from Rivière du Loup, we found ourselves in the 400-year celebratory bliss of Quebec City. As luck would have it we were not alone, as the city was teeming with mayors, councillors and municipal administrators.

Not only was it encouraging to see that much positive political energy and commitment in one place, with municipalities increasingly where the action is in Canadian politics, but we had a chance to chat with one young administrator from a Western Province, to compare notes on what’s working well and not so well in municipal governance across the country.

Among the more interesting comparative sidebars was his claim that the sordid Bernier affair drew very little attention out West. Coupled with the approach to the story in Quebec — where Bernier was treated more as a joke than a threat to the country — our Maritime concern with leaving state secrets too close to the underworld seemed damn near noble. Again, differences in political culture reveal our mystery as Canadians.

Spent a few days in and out of Montreal trying to get a read on why the Quebec polls have Harper doing so well in Quebec, Dion so poorly, while all the national polls have the Liberals ahead of the Conservatives in la belle province. Folks were surprisingly unwilling to provide much insight on this conundrum, except to suggest that the fear of a Harper majority is alive and well.

As I send this log to press, I am preparing, again under cover, to spend an evening at Hy’s restaurant, where the Reform Tories gather to eat raw beef. Last time, you may recall, I think I was slipped something in my drink that led me to believe I had seen some shady characters discussing dark plans for the redoing of the country, though I couldn’t quite get that second source to confirm.

Hy’s was where Mr. Bernier was last seen with Ms. Coulliard, both enjoying the company of Stockwell Day. The fact that they were enjoying Day’s company may well be what made the Bloc and Liberals suspicious.

So off to Hy’s we go, sacrificing yet again in the service of this column.