January 13, 1994 |
Never mind all those collapsing trade barriers, the hoopla over the North American Free Trade Agreement and the race for global commerce. Seattle and other U.S. port cities are fast aground on the barnacles of a 19th-Century protectionist statute, unable to rise to one of the tantalizing economic booms of the age: the explosion of cruise ship tourism. This year, hundreds of thousands of Americans will arrive at Seattle's Sea-Tac airport, bound for an Alaska cruise.
August 13, 1998 |
Evidence of how Asia's sickly yen, won and other currencies have infected Canada abounds in this postcard-perfect setting in the northern Rockies. The tour buses that once delivered visitors by the hundreds from Tokyo and Seoul, fueling a boom that transformed this village into a resort with visions of rivaling Aspen, are fewer and fewer.
May 17, 1998 |
My daughter and I are sitting in a sidewalk cafe on Robson Street, nursing cups of cappuccino and eating croissants on a sunny, crisp spring morning. I am watching Meera, verging on 16, cast an appreciative glance at an "incredibly fine Canadian man" walking past our table. We are here because of a whim and a Web deal, an air fare so good that I feel I'm saving money even as I spend it: $99 round trip per person, plus taxes, from LAX on Alaska Airlines.
August 31, 1992 |
Bezal Jesudason keeps his table set for 15, here on remote Cornwallis Island high in the Canadian Arctic archipelago. He never knows who may be dropping in for dinner. There were the New Agers from Winnipeg, on their way by sledge to the magnetic North Pole, where they hoped to beget a super-baby. There was the Japanese film crew making a movie called "Antarctica"; because they were at the wrong end of the globe, they had to use stuffed penguins as props.
September 12, 1999 |
The old steamboat appeared on the horizon, smoke rising from its single red stack to dust the sky. It would take away another batch of families and the leftovers from their summer as "cottagers" here on the Muskoka lakes. From across the water a lone loon called. An answer followed. It was early morning on the lake. The water was flat, a perfect mirror for the blue sky and the trees' fall colors that flashed across the surface like dancing flames, yellow, orange, crimson.
May 21, 2000 |
Dusky rays of sun slipped through the stone corridors of 17th century Vieux (Old) Montreal as our carriage driver welcomed us in a lilting French accent. Speaking over the hollow clop of horseshoes on cobblestones, he asked what brought a family of four from California to this island city where the St. Lawrence and Ottawa rivers meet.
July 23, 2000 |
This quiet and beautifully preserved 19th century village on Lake Ontario would be worth a visit just for its atmosphere: very Canadian-British in sensibilities, American in history and language. But it's also a destination for theater lovers, with its May-through-November Shaw Festival. Theater sets this Niagara apart from tourist magnet Niagara Falls, 20 miles down the road.
May 6, 2001 |
Yoho means "awe inspiring" in Cree. As we drove our rented SUV over the 4,000-foot elevations in Yoho National Park, I hoped the name was accurate and that Yoho would translate for us into "less crowded than Banff National Park." A week before, as we drove west into Banff on the 90-minute trip from Calgary International Airport, our family had talked about our wish lists for our first visit to the Canadian Rockies.
December 7, 1997 |
To really serious skiers, what I'm going to say is heresy. But the newly revamped French Canadian village that is emerging at the base of the venerable Tremblant ski resort in Quebec Province is so irresistibly charming, it very well could tempt you away from the slopes.