OTTAWA—FEB 16—2019
Whenever I find myself in a new city, I try to walk as much as I can.
Walking minimizes commute costs, facilitates digestion, and lets me observe people and places in more detail.
Here is how I spent the third of my three days in Ottawa.
Checkout for the Airbnb was 11 AM, but I left by 10.
I decided that the theme of the day should be local — and frugal as well.
I walked down to The Glebe for a bagel from Kettleman’s, a 24/7 joint that claims to make “the world’s best bagel”.
Fresh bagels are being made all the time! The technique is almost hypnotic — each of these circular mounds of goodness involves rolling, stretching, pinching, and tossing.
Why don’t we just go ahead and watch it in slow motion?
I flirted with the idea of having a blueberry bagel with peanut butter, but I ended up with savoury instead — whole wheat bagel, hot pepper cream cheese.
It was toasted beautifully, slathered generously, and cost less than $4.
I started walking back towards downtown, hoping to see what was west of Parliament — I had only been east of it. I passed by these buildings and I just had to take a picture. This is my type of architecture…
This one is as well — Library and Archives Canada. Look at those square windows!
Across the street was a Lyon sign, which I took a couple selfies with. My finger could have been positioned a little higher, but you get the point (haha).
Side note — pretty sure a car honked at me while I was taking this.
Here’s a better photo of the West Memorial Building, uninterrupted by my face.
As my walk continued, I arrived at the Supreme Court of Canada.
Yes, Parliament looks good during a nice day like this but I still prefer the evening vibe.
I kept wandering and ended up at Queen St. Fare — allegedly “Ottawa’s first food hall”. I only went in because I needed to use the washroom, but I checked out all of the culinary options inside as well.
From what I recall, there was Thai / Vietnamese, something “green”, pizza, burgers, Mexican (almost indulged in some churros), and a coffee spot.
I passed by some interesting places as I made my way to the canal — a (supposedly) low-carb shawarma spot, a place called The SconeWitch (spooky), City Hall, Confederation Park, and more.
It was at City Hall when I noticed a crowd of people, all trudging along towards the same direction.
I walked up some stairs onto the Mackenzie King Bridge, which is where I captured this amazing photo of the Rideau Canal.
It was all very romantic — families were there, BeaverTails were being munched on, and people glided (or penguin-walked) through the crisp Ottawa air on their skates.
Hungry now, I stumbled upon Shanghai Wonton Noodle Restaurant. They had a 4.6 star rating on Google but even more importantly, everything on the menu was very reasonably priced.
I went with the Wuhan dry noodles — basically, a spicy bowl of chewy noodles with peanuts, sesame oil, green onions, and some cilantro (eh). The flavours were great, the noodles carried the sauce very well, and everything was made even better by the table chilli oil — all for just $5.55.
My time in Ottawa was coming to an end.
It was around 3 PM when I stepped outside of the noodle place, and my train back to Kingston was scheduled for 6:30. I walked through Byward Market to get to Bridgehead, an Ottawa coffee chain.
I sat inside until about 5:30 sipping a hot chocolate, appreciating a chocolate chip cookie, and drafting these insightful blurbs for my photos.
The barista seemed a little insulted when I didn’t take her suggestion to try their maple pecan square — can’t blame her though, since I did ask for a pastry recommendation but ignored it in the end.
I walked briskly through the market once again on my way to the bus for the VIA station.
There, I saw the legendary maple syrup on a stick, but I didn’t have cash and I was kind of in a hurry — traffic was looking pretty bad.
I will have to come back for these sweet sticks sometime…
The bus stop (Laurier) was actually right by uOttawa’s Telfer School of Management. I didn’t get around to walking around campus, so it was good that I managed to see a sliver of it at the tail end of my trip.
There was a guy at the stop — red jacket, black suitcase. He was wearing a face warmer thing and through the tiny slit that left his face was uncovered, our eyes met.
We nodded at one another, stuffed our frigid hands even deeper into our coat pockets (not each other’s), and waited in silence for the arrival of the 62 St-Laurent.
