Niagara

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Currently falling asleep. Spelling and meaning may be distorted. Pictures to come when I wake up..... (ideally not next to a cockroach again)

I was expecting the Niagara Falls to be one of the highlights of my trip, and so it was with great expectations that, at 9 a.m. sharp, I descended from the bus and into the forty minute walk to the hostel.

On arrival, I was kept waiting around for a bit until 'Patrick', the owner, could finishing harassing some other guests and actually deal with the tiresome process of taking money off me. My first impression wasn't good. The 'middle aged man with pony tail' look isn't a big favourite of mine, I must confess. The first words he said to me were 'well you're ridiculously early, check in isn't until 4:30', in a way that tried a little too hard to sound friendly. His wide face, and black brushy eyebrows quivered, 'but we can sort something out.' (that time, by the way, is at least two and a half hours after most other hostels will let you check in.)

He took my main bag into his office for storage, and then returned. I would have to come back no earlier than 4:30, in spite of the fact that (unknown to me) the room was in fact ready at this point. I accepted this gracefully, and was about to ask him whether he had a map of the area when he launched into a speech I was to hear snippets of repeatedly over the next few days. He asked me how I thought the falls had been formed. I guessed correctly that the ice age may have had something to do with it. He then informed me that I wasn't actually here to see the falls, but the river the falls happen to be on. He then just wouldn't stop talking.

My initial reaction (quickly suppressed) was to point out that, err, well, I WAS actually here just to see the falls, and doubtless I could get a geography lesson from either the internet or the visitor centre, so if he'd just shut the **** up and do his job of checking me in that'd suit me just fine. Sadly something about his manner suggested that he'd happily refuse me a room if I didn't listen to him, so I stood politely nodding.

It didn't seem fair to point out either, as he began to rant about his disdain for Toronto or give me a rundown of the hostels I could have stayed in there, that his prattling was currently preventing me from seeing either the falls or (and we are to presume this to be the most important of all,) the river. He then went back to describing the layout of said river, and what was on offer in the local town. One clunking hand represented a waterfall, and the other a bridge over the river. I seized my chance. 'Do you happen to have a map I could see this on to help me find things better?' I politely asked. His eyes twinkled, and he leaned slightly towards me. 'Do you know why I don't give out maps?', he asked in a hushed tone. 'No', I was getting a little tired of faking interest. He leaned further inwards, 'It kills conversation'.

I groaned inwardly, and fifteen minutes later was able to escape and head towards the falls. Again, my first impressions weren't all that good. I walked down in the direction of the falls past all the dross you'd expect to find in Skegness, not one of the most spectacular sights in America. Niagara Falls t-shirts were available for $1.99. Neon screamed at me to enter tacky shops, or the lair of Frankenstein (which he'd conveniently relocated from Ingolstadt just for my enjoyment), or to play a round of 'Galaxy Golf' in the 'adventure fun house'. I groaned.

Things did get better as I neared the falls themselves though. The neon dispersed behind a discrete covering of trees, and I was able to being to appreciate the awesome spectacle that was unfurling before me. Directly in front of me, on the other side of the river, water was plunging 180 feet downwards onto a diagonal slide of rocks, causing it to shoot up in a mist that could have been caused by an enormous bonfire somewhere far below. A little way on from this, the same thing was happening, but this time in the shape of a horseshoe. It was staggering, awesome in the true sense of the word.

I decided to do most of the touristy things on the first day. As impressive as it was, I was keenly aware that there's only so long one can reasonably expect to be enthralled by water falling over the edge of a cliff. I got the £20 visitors pass to allow me onto all of the falls related attractions and public transport for the day. First up was the Maid of the Mist boat, which carried me to the base of the waterfall. Then the journey behind the falls, which also carried me (this time via a lift) to the base of the waterfall, followed by the White Water Walk, which meant I had to walk two miles in the soaking rain to then be allowed to walk next to some (admittedly very white) water. I tease these things gently though, they were good value for money and definitely worth doing.

In the evening I returned with Shaun, an Australian I'd met in the hostel, to view the much advertised bi-weekly 'Fireworks Over the Falls'. We arrived in good time, and found a spot where we could stand on the edge of a fountain, watching the falls lit up in ever changing colours. The fireworks turned out to be a good show. Fairly short, but with lots of bangs, explosions and bright lights and a genuinely fast finale.

The next day I had a lazy morning, then a stroll around the American side of the falls in the afternoon. It was amazing how easy it was to clear the border given some of the horror stories frighteningly alluded to from time to time about what utter bastard the border patrol could be. As it was, the least friendly moment came when getting back into Canada later, although even this was over within seconds.

I got very lost when trying to find the place to catch the bus from the next day, and four hours later was, as seems to be so often the case, ready to crumple onto a bed. The day after that, I was checked out and heading to Chicago.

One thing still puzzles me about Niagara though, and that is that it enjoys and excellent reputation for being an excellent spot for a honeymoon. It just isn't. 'oh the neon shines shine bright as my love for you'. I just can't imagine who would on what is meant to be the most romantic, significant holidays for their life. want to check them and their new wife into the excellent Days Inn motel (Think Travelodge) before strolling down the main street. Here they could purchase their beloved some Candy Floss, tour the 'Rock Legends Waxwork Museum' and whisk her off her feet with a meal in the Pizza Hut Express, complete with a do it yourself ice-cream from the machine! In a moment of boredom, someone may even notice some waterfalls in the background...!

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