Oh Canada….

I knoh, I kno: it’s O Canada. But we’re not talking the Canadian national anthem – dandy tune that it is – we’re talking the country, which I visited last week. And a dandy country it is.

I’ve always wanted to visit the Maritimes – at least since I read Anne of Green Gables and/or first heard Paul Simon’s Duncan, one of his short-story-of-a-song in which Lincoln Duncan tells about leaving his home in the Maritimes. Yes, I want to get to Prince Edward Island some day (c.f., Anne of Green Gables). And I want to get to Nova Scotia some day. After all, I’m a city girl and Nova Scotia’s where the only Maritime city of appreciable size (Halifax) lies. And I want to get to Newfoundland some day: cool dogs.

But you have to start somewhere, so I started with New Brunswick.

Between Bangor, Maine and the Canadian border crossing, things are pretty bleak. As in Beans of Egypt Maine bleak. A good reminder that there’s plenty of depressed and depressing flyover country in New England, too.

Not that urban squalor is any fun, but I’d take being poor in a city over poor way out in the country in my ramshackle trailer any old day. Sure, big cities have food deserts, but out in the middle of nowhere there are everything deserts: nothing stimulating, nothing entertaining, nothing interesting, nothing to do. It’s no surprise that the opioid epidemic has such deep roots in areas like rural Maine.

Once we reached Canada, it may have been my imagination – after all, I was relieved and delighted to be in a country lead by someone intelligent, articulate and principled – but things seemed to pick up. The houses were neater. (Skies bluer, sun shinier.)

Our stop was St. Andrews, a very British-y tourist town, where we stayed at an old-fashioned, very British-y upscale resort.

Our purpose in St. Andrews was that it’s sort of near Campobello, the summer home of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, and the prime purpose behind our trip. (See yesterday’s post.)

Getting to Campobello required some island hopping via ferry, and it brought us through a couple of areas that could almost rival northern Maine for their rundown-ness. Maybe it was my imagination again, but nothing seemed nearly as bleak as those spots in Maine. Was it Justin Trudeau? National health insurance? Fewer worries about getting mowed down by some maniac wielding an AK-47? Sure, these little Canadian fishing villages weren’t exactly prosperous. Still…

Canada just seems better, nicer, saner than the States. Admittedly, it’s generally easier to fall for a place where you don’t know where the bodies are buried, where all the warts are. Still…

Anyway, Campobello Island was wonderful, but we wanted to experience more of New Brunswick’s charms.

Why not St. Stephen? It is, after all, Canada’s Chocolate Town, home of Ganong Chocolates. So what if we’d never heard of St. Stephen? Or Ganong? There’s a chocolate museum in St. Stephen. We’re off!

The museum is in the building that housed the old Ganong chocolate factory, in downtown St. Stephen, and while it’s not worth a trip to New Brunswick, it’s definitely worth a stop if you’re in the ‘hood.

It has a bit about the history of chocolate, but the museum is largely devoted to Ganong Chocolates, a family owned business – now run by the 5th generation of Ganongs – that’s been around since the late 1800’s. That’s when Ganong Numero Uno is said to have been the first in North America to wrap a piece of chocolate and turn it into the candy bar as we know it today. They were also the first to introduce the Valentine-shaped candy box. (Awwwww…)

The museum features a several decades old video of the old, unautomated Ganong factory. The video was very sweet, mentioning most of the featured employees by name, and shows how the candy is made. Believe it or not, it’s actually fascinating to watch someone construct a candy box, or hand dip chocolates. (Talk about up to your elbows in chocolate.)

Another video features Whidden Ganong, the third gen to run the company. It was made when Whidden (now long dead) was in his 90’s, but hearing him recount his history with the company was quite interesting. Quite a character, Whidden courted the best chocolate dipper in the world – one Eleanor Deacon – for 14 years before marrying her. Eleanor had grown up quite poor – as Whidden told us, she had to trap weasels to make money to buy clothing (I heard this as poor Eleanor actually wore clothing made out of weasel, but I’m trusting my sister here). So  marrying into the Ganong family must have been quite a step up. I do believe that even post marriage, Eleanor continued to dip chocolates.

Among Ganong specialties are the Chicken Bone – cinnamon hard candy with a chocolate center. Sounds ghastly, but it’s okay. Better, though, is the Marrow Bone: a Chicken Bone wrapped in dark chocolate. Yum!

I bought a few to take home at the candy shop attached to the museum, and also took a chance on a Pal-O-Mine candy bar. I opened it with some trepidation – it could have been one of those awful old timey “treats” – but it was actually quite good. If you’re in Canada and see one in a gas station, don’t hesitate.

I took a pass on the gigunda box of chocolates – 3.5 pounds – that’s a Ganong Christmas favorite. It’s a tricky one, as there’s no key to what you’re getting. We all know square is something chewy, oval is something soft-centered, but beyond that, until you memorize what each of the squiggles means, you’re one your own.

St. Stephen/Ganong was an altogether excellent stop. The border crossing there is easy-peasy, too.

From St. Stephen, to quote Lincoln Duncan of Pau Simon fame, we “headed down the turnpike for New England, sweet New England.”

We spent our final night in Bar Harbor, where there was plenty to see, shop, and eat.

But, Oh Canada, I really enjoyed my time up north.