Magic in Manitoba

Up there amongst my most moving experiences to date, the Canadian Museum for Human Rights is one not to be missed. Now more than ever before, given the ghastly times we live in. It does require a visit though to little-known Winnipeg – admittedly, a city that’s not on anyone’s radar or route. But having been there on three occasions now, I can assure you – the city of less than a million punches a lot higher than its weight class.

Back in 2017, while traveling across Canada by train, we had a 4-hour halt at Winnipeg, and I took advantage of a tour originating right outside the station to explore the city a bit. The museum’s distinct architecture – symbolic of a dove – had caught my eye then, and finding myself in Winnipeg once more – some eight years later – I made it my first order of business. But there’s more to the city than just that museum. The capital and largest city of the province of Manitoba, Winnipeg is strategically located, historically relevant, rich with indigenous culture, and home to a young and diverse population. It boasts some grand architecture, excellent parks and riverwalks, a solid food scene (some of the best Filipino cuisine I’ve had), and an impressive bus system to get you around. The city left such a good impression on this second and longer visit of mine, I was already looking forward to being back there in a matter of days.

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The Ocean to Halifax

Thanksgiving Day ’24 and we’re off to a gloomy, wet start; the rain gradually turning to snow as we approach Albany-Rensselaer. Our leisurely halt there includes the customary locomotive swap, and by the time we pull away, there’s a full-blown snowstorm in the making – the season’s first, apparently. The mighty Hudson is crossed, and we get up to line speed eventually, but ~30-minutes later, in the middle of nowhere, we grind to a halt. The snow, meanwhile, showing no signs of abating. Back in the summer of ’09, I had attempted to take this very train from New York to Montreal, but my plans were thwarted by “track work north of Albany”, with Amtrak offering a sorry substitute for the onward journey, a bus. After all these years, surely I wasn’t out of luck again? The PA system finally comes alive and our conductor explains the hold up – there’s a lengthy freight train ahead of us, switching over to a siding to let us through. Twenty excruciating minutes after halting, we’re rolling north again. I breathe a sigh of relief.

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Le Canadien

How long are you in Toronto for? Just a few hours, I reply. I’m actually headed to Vancouver. How long are you spending there? Not a lot, I’m literally taking the train west and flying back home from there. Perplexed for a moment, the immigration officer at Pearson International hands me back my passport. Hope you’re carrying a good camera, he says, as he ushers me through.

By the time I’m done wandering around downtown Tee Dot – a city that looks and certainly feels very different in the winter – I saunter in to Union Station, with only a half hour or so to spare before departure. Blissfully unaware, all the while, that there is a special lounge for sleeper class passengers within.

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