Friendly Manitoba

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My journey across Canada has continued eastbound to Manitoba, first setting foot in Winnipeg. Nothing immediately grabbed me about the streets of this city, so I found a donut shop and ran my finger down my list of nearby hostels. Most hostel owners seem to find locations nearest bus stations, which I greatly appreciate considering my map reading skills. I circled the winning write up, and set off. Within a few moments I did a couple of backpacking pirouettes on the street just trying to confirm the right direction, and was quickly approached by a local laughing at my dance moves.

"Unless your heading towards the polar bears in Churchill, you'll find the hostel is actually right behind you" declared Paul.

The sidewalk directions were followed by suggestions for a cheap place to eat and a trendy bar. As cars drove by with license plates reading "Friendly Manitoba", I wondered whether every Canadian citizen lived up to their provinces' proclamation. I've decided that the license plates describing the state or province that I'm in, seem to be pretty accurate. Why then, did I spend only 24 hours in 'Friendly Manitoba'? Well, I'm not too sure to be honest. I suppose anything more than 24 hours feels a bit like I'm settling down.


I began my walking tour of the city and approached the river bank with caution. Just my luck that I happened to arrive in town when mother nature was forcing people to deal with flooding. The banks looked like they were going to give in to the calm but excessive amounts of water flowing down the Assiniboine River. My toes then started to feel a wet squish in my shoes just before I discovered the walking trail ended straight in the water. I thought of my wellies leaning aginst the backdoor of my house in Sheffield, but even they could not have got me to the end of the trail. Unless I was planning on stripping down to my swimsuit, I was obligated to turn around.


I eventually found a dry route to the heart of Winnipeg. The 'Forks' had once been a meeting point for traders and explorers, now it seems to be overrun with shoppers and tourists. The attendant at the information center eagerly told me of the 'must see' spots nearby.

"It's not often we get visitors from Australia" she said with a confident smile.

It took me a moment to respond as I couldn't think of a gentle way of putting it. Should I bother explaining I'm actually from Vancouver? The English/Scottish/Irish accent is difficult enough for my parents to understand, but how the hell did Australia get in there?

"Oi mate, thenks fer yuh hylp..off to see yor kangaroos then-g'day!" was all I could manage. Best not to complicate things too much I figure!


I crossed over a very stylish bridge and entered the French Quarter of the city. Winnipeg has a population of about 800,000; I was quite surprised to learn that 60,000 of these residents speak in Canada's second language. Being from the West Coast, I have never been immersed in the French culture of Canada, and was pleased to discover these districts are not just in Quebec. In fact, I actually came across quite a few neighbourhoods along the Greyhound bus route. I spoke my few words learned in high school but gave up when the conversation was always continued in english. As a newly discovered Aussie, I explored the area of St. Boniface with no more informal pleasantries and comments on the weather. I concentrated on the historic buildings within the franophone community, and of course, sampled their coffee.


My feet then lead me to an area called the Exchange District, where the city's commercial and wholesale history began. As it is also where some of the cities' arts are concentrated, I was hoping to buy a ticket to the world famous Winnipeg Ballet. Just my luck; there weren't any scheduled performances for another three weeks. Hiding my disappointment, I still managed to discover and appreciate the turn-of-the-century look of the area. I can certainly understand why many movies are filmed there.


As an entire day had passed and I hadn't been further enticed to explore the riches of Manitoba, (the required hours of bus travel to my next destination always loom at the back of my mind) I decided to board a bus early the next morning. For this reason, I didn't make any lasting relationships in the hostel, or with any other friendly Manitoban citizens. I read a bit more about the city, and smiled in my bunkbed as I was reminded that Winnipeg is the birthplace of Winnie the Pooh. And as he moved on, so will I.


As the sun started lighting up the streets and coffee pots were being filled, I strolled over to the bus station, in the right direction. It was only when I began congratulating myself for being so on time, that I remembered my phone charging in the wall at the hostel. It's amazing how one can find the fitness level required for racing across 10 blocks within a 10 minute period, when you really really need to!


I made it onto the bus, entertaining all of the other passengers with prolonged huffing and puffing, and began reading my guidebook pages to Ontario.


Winnipeg really was a quickie, although not my ideal type.

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