In The Muth

What a lovely weekend.

After seeing our puppies safe on Friday night, we lit out for "Little Bavaria"-- Frankenmuth, Michigan, a four hour drive from here. We drove through weather that is best described as "intermittent monsoon"; I was actually a little concerned at one point that a tornado might be playing hide and eek! around the next bend in the road. No such luck, but the rain did come hard enough to damage one windshield wiper.

No problem at the border this time, although there was a yawning pause when the border cop asked my wife if she'd brought anything she'd be "leaving" in the U.S." The silence stretched out for nearly two seconds...an eternity, in other words. As I was about to jump in, she said "No. I'm sorry, I actually had to think a second as to what that would possibly be." She confessed afterwards that she still couldn't figure out the question, and neither can I. "Did you bring anything you'll be leaving in the United States? Yes, a Canadian flag. We're the vanguard of a conquering force, you see.

We were waved through, and found ourselves once again in a whole new world.

It's the little things that jump out at you and scream "you're not in Canada any more." The roads are subtly different: the painted lines a little narrower or wider, the bridges a startling shade of blue I've never seen in my home and native land. The ubiquitous construction zones. It's almost as if whenever Americans get bored, they go out and indulge in a spot of road work. The signs along the road at intervals: "Injure or Kill a Worker = $7500, 5 Years". Evidently that's a problem, I thought. I did like that the speed limit in these construction zones was marked "45 When Workers Present". You don't see that here: the speed limits are reduced, and too bad if there's no reason for them to be.

I will never get used to miles in place of kilometers. Miles have the effect of spinning time out until it winds into a shroud. With kilometers, yeah, there's more of 'em, but they count down faster.

Everything is bigger down here. An extra-large Timmy's is the size of a freakin' thermos. Let me tell you, it's nice to see Tim Horton's colonizing the U.S. It's like a little taste of home. Hopefully it takes. I'm really not used to walking into a Tim's and finding it completely deserted.

We got to our destination, the Drury Inn, a little before ten. At that point Eva'd been awake for nearly twenty hours. Both of us were just wiped.

This hotel chain had been recommended to us by several people, and it was quickly evident why. Most midrange hotels include breakfast of a sort, but at Drury the breakfast buffet is relatively extensive...and breakfast is just the beginning. They'll also serve you a light supper each night at no charge. . You get three drinks (alcoholic drinks, no less). You get free popcorn, unlimited pop, and even fifteen minutes a night free long distance to Canada. I'll admit at first I was a little skeptical, noting that the room rate was a couple of notches higher than what we had paid at, say, Jameson Inn. But it gradually dawned on me that Frankenmuth was a touristy sort of place and rates for everything were a few notches higher. Drury Inn thus represents fantastic value. We very much enjoyed our stay, and will keep it in mind in October. My only nitpick was the bed. The first night, both of us would have slept cheerfully on broken glass. It was only last night that we realized the mattress was nearing the end of its useful life. It's never fun to wake up with a sore back, you know?

Yes, we hit the grocery store. Two of them, in fact. I couldn't help gawking a little. Both the Kroger and the Meijer were alike in size to a Real Canadian SuperStore: bloody huge, in other words. I had to repeatedly remind myself that both these stores sit in a town of less than six thousand people. Even accounting for numerous tourists like us, I couldn't see how both these places could stay in business.

And the selection! I know, I just wrote about it last post, but it kind of reaches out and bitch-slaps you. Take something as mundane as Coca-Cola. Down here it comes in a seemingly infinite variety. Besides your standard Coke, Diet Coke and Coke Zero, you have your regular and diet Cherry Coke, Cherry Coke Zero, and Vanilla Coke. Absolutely none of this is available in Ontario. Coke has tried three times to market Cherry up here and it simply doesn't sell. Ditto vanilla. Had to get some of that last: I love the stuff.

On a whim, we stopped in at Bronner's CHRISTmas Wonderland. The capitalization is deliberate, just one more clue among many that a public profession of some other faith, let alone no faith, just might get you put in stocks around here. Really, it's almost scary. My e-friend Rocketstar has alluded many times to the difficulty of being an atheist in the land of the free and the home of the saved. I'd always kind of scoffed in my mind: it can't be that bad, can it? I've become quite proficient at unobtrusive eavesdropping on conversations, and if what I heard at breakfast, lunch and dinner is any indication, it can. Christianity is in your face everywhere you look around Frankenmuth. The hotel had not one, not two, but three explicitly Christian television channels. Nearly every home has a small cross in its backyard. And then you have the town's prime tourist attraction, making sure everyone knows that while there might be Santas galore within the store, they haven't forgotten the "real meaning" of the season. Ironic, of course, since nobody knows when Yeshua bar Yosef--at least the one among hundreds by that name living in Nazareth at the time who was later known as Christ--was actually born. It might have been late summer, for all we know.

Sorry for the lengthy digression. It just bothers me. Let me be clear: I'm not Dawkins. There's nothing wrong with believing in a god, or gods. But to me, such faith is, or ought to be, a private affair, between you and whatever deity you embrace. Jesus even said as much (Mt. 6:6). Public piety usually comes across to me as a pointless game of one-upmanship, and it really put me on edge this weekend.

Anyway...

Bronner's is stunning by any measure. It's not a store: it's an experience. The building is over seven acres in size and you can very quickly become overwhelmed by the holiday paraphernalia. The Christmas villages alone are worth the visit: elaborate beyond description, and sucking power like there's no tomorrow. Apparently their electric bill is over $900 a day. After you see this place, you'll be sure they're getting a discount. There are over three hundred and fifty fully decorated trees.

I was told I couldn't say I'd been to Frankenmuth if I hadn't eaten at Zehnder's. We didn't eat there for three reasons. One: price. It's a tad pricey. Two: atmosphere. One look at the imposing facade of the restaurant convinced me beyond doubt I didn't have the proper clothing to be seen within its walls. Three: we had somewhere else we wanted to go instead: Tony's.

Even up here we'd heard about this place that dares to serve a B.L.T. that contains a pound of B. The wait staff is clad in T-shirts (available for sale) that say "Got Bacon?" Eva ordered a turkey club and was instantly presented with this:



I had to help her finish, after I had made short work of my smaller (but still very generous) 'Jibber's Special' (corned beef and cheese on Italian bread). I debated trying the sundae, but in the end decided I would rather not explode. The ambiance is old-fashioned greasy spoon all the way, the service is out of this world, and the bill came to less than $30. Highly recommended.

The highlight of the trip, for me, was an hour long cruise along the Cass River on Saturday evening. We were the only ones on the boat, just us and the captain, and it was incredibly relaxing to just let the world drift by. The electric boats are whisper-quiet and the trip is well worth the $15/person it costs.

It was great to get back over the border this morning, to a place where speed limits are mere suggestions and the metric system rules supreme. It was even nicer to get home to our own shower and bed and life.

Thank you, Andrea, for taking care of the Tux and the Peach.