Waverley Inn and a trip to see the Titanic markers

580

02 October 2012

R. Linda:

SOOO . . . once in the rental we drove in the rain in a city we had neither of us ever seen before, let alone knew where anything was . . . thus the Tom-Tom. Now the voice of me Tom-Tom lady be British, and I call her Maudie, I don't know why, I just do. Tonya calls her Arsehole, so we conflict when talking about "her" interrupting us, which Maudie AKA Arsehole is apt to do at the most inopportune times. It never fails, I will be discussing something important and Tonya will be putting her two pence in when Maudie AKA Arsehole announces loudly, "Bear right then make a right turn!" Not once, but she repeats it until we actually get to where we are to bear right. And that starts Tonya talking to Maudie in a not-very-nice fashion while I sigh and try to bear right and remember if I should be in the right lane or left. I mean sometimes it gets damn stupid with the three of us talking loudly at once. I tell ya!

So this started going on when Tonya announced that she thought we must be lost because it was taking an inordinate amount of time to get into Halifax proper and I was saying something like well, Maudie be adjusting the route so hold on, when Maudie interrupted with "Take the second right off the carriageway," and well things just got out of hand until we all ran out of stuff to shout at each other. I think we are the only couple I know that actually have a love/hate relationship with our Tom-Tom.

Actually, it be a bit of a drive from airport to city, no different than Heathrow to London. We were tired, it was raining which was depressing, and Tonya was still not feeling great, and all that added up to Tonya saying to me, "This place we are staying better be good Mr. Man."

What wasn't said was, "Because if it isn't I'm outta here and YOUR life will be miserable for the rest of your days." I try diligently to ignore this unsaid stuff, but you know it's banging around me brain anyway. I can't win.

I'll give you a little background on the place we were staying for a few nights. The Waverley Inn is a large Victorian, three-story building in downtown Halifax. It has two small front gardens that are impeccably maintained and an entrance that transports the guest into the world of yesteryear with modern panache. It has an illustrious history of famous guests who frequented the inn which once had been a private residence.

 

The Waverley Inn, Halifax, Nova Scotia

It was after 11 p.m. when we arrived. We used the side entrance to buzz in and I will tell you even from that entrance, as you come out into the downstairs hallway towards the check-in desk, your breath is taken away at the luxury and beauty of the interiour. There are crystal chandeliers, polished wood floors, bannisters with wide handrails that gleam, and antique furniture all sturdy and beautiful pieces. Everything be tastefully done and lit well enough to be inviting without losing the atmospherics of the timelessness of the decor.
  

                                                                                              

Facing the front entrance, check in on the left of the photo

George was the man who checked us in. He is a dignified, soft-spoken gentleman who made us feel welcome despite the hour. As we headed to our room on the second floor, I noticed the wife was speechless. Yup, this was more than she bargained for, and I had got us the best room in the house, a room which John Vanderbilt stayed in, and so named for him. I wanted the Oscar Wilde room which was next to ours, but it was booked. Supposedly that one and the Roman Sisters' room are both haunted. Tonya did whisper to me she'd rather be haunted by a millionaire any day. Sometimes I don't know about her.

 

To the second floor

As the door was opened for us, Ms. Tonya was swept away into further speechlessness at the size and decor. It was wonderful, I had a full ten minutes of blessed silence as she walked around the room, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Until this, "GOD this is nicer than our room at home! You know I think you could knock out that wall and make ours this size."

 

The Vanderbilt Room

You know me thoughts on THAT, don't you? It's not going to happen. I write for a newspaper, I be not a handyman. I don't even know what a hammer looks like. Well, okay I do, but there be a world of difference between building something and hanging a picture. Besides, if I knock that wall down we will be sharing one big room with the kiddos who are on the other side of that wall she wants gone. I don't think so!

The next day we breakfasted in the dining room of the Inn and from the amount of diners the old place was pretty booked. We decided to take in three sites, the first being THIS:

 

YUP

This was a Tonya must-see. Oh yes, it was. Of course, as we pulled in, she said to me, "Hey look Gabe there are plots available, you can be planted next to Jack Dawson maybe."

Yes, she's a barrel of laughs the woman is. As we drove in it wasn't hard to find the area where the victims of the Titanic were buried. There was a bus at the top of the cemetery and a bus-load of people all concentrated in one part of the cemetery, and of course, there was this:

 

Site marker a dead give-away

I had pulled down the road all the way to the end of it where we were closer to the grave site. There was no space up where the bus was parked and as Tonya complained and people looked, I drove on anyway and found a place where the road used to go through but was fenced off. I parked the motor there and had not much of a walk to the site. No one said a thing, so no big deal I said to the complaining wife.

Now an odd thing happened, I was walking by meself the wife not wanting to be seen with the man who thinks he can park his motor anywhere he wants. But I wasn't really walking by meself, I had this walking along with me.

Step for step he walked along with me all the way to the Titanic graves

This made me uneasy because who wants a blackbird walking with them in a graveyard, even if it was daylight. But once we got to where the large group of cemetery tourists were, he dropped off, BUT he was waiting for me on the return. I don't believe in omens and I know what you are going to say, so I be saying to you right now, don't go there.

 

I said to Tonya, "I think THIS be the place."

Now little did I know that all those people were deaf, no not the ones buried, the people in the picture. No really, they were hearing impaired because when we walked up there, it was eerily quiet, but there was a lot of gesturing going on. I was like what are they doing, some kind of mystic rite? But no they were signing.

"So I wanna see Jack's grave," Tonya says meeting back up with me.

"I think it is where that group of people are," I said looking around me. "And it's not Jack it is Joseph Dawson."

"Jack, Joseph, all the same to me, let's go." And off she went. "It is number 227."

"What? They have numbers?"

"Yeah, the order they were found in," she says.

I did not know that. And sure enough, it was 227 and it was the marker everyone had surrounded. But when they saw the "young thing" who wanted a picture, the people moved back and smiled, gesturing Ms. Tonya should take her picture. But even better, one of the hearing guides asked her if she wanted to crouch down behind the stone and smile, she'd take a picture. I almost burst out laughing, I know it was a kind gesture, but the guide did not know the superstitious Ms. Tonya, who kept her horror deep down inside, forcing a small smile and shaking her head no. Can you imagine a picture of someone grinning behind a headstone? The thought just strikes me as funny. I'm sorry, it just does.

 

Jack AKA Joseph Dawson's headstone

I noticed interspersed with the smaller headstones like Dawson's, bigger ones with more information on them. I read that the victims were identified by what they had on them. But some of the families could afford to have more elaborate stone markers and they are among the smaller stones in the order in which found like these two.

I left Tonya to wander around and I was immediately picked up by the black bird. He wanted to know if I found Jack. I said I had but it was really Joseph. He said, no matter Jack or Joseph, he's there and I'm here watching over them all. I said kind of you to do that. And he said, it is my job and I am happy to do it. I said, I have to go now, but it was nice having your company for the short while I strolled about your grounds. He said, come back anytime, I'll make room for you. I shivered and walked quickly to the motor where Tonya was waiting. I could hear the bird's cackling laughter behind me.

"I must be losing me mind," I muttered to meself. I shoved me hands deep in me pockets and hurried to the motor.

"You taking up talking to birds now, are you? Do you know how silly that looked?"

"Well, we had a conversation, he started it," I said, "and I didn't want to appear impolite. Besides no one back there can hear me."

"Right. Get in the car Gabe, you'll make your girlfriend Maudie jealous of a raven."

"Raven? That is a raven?" I asked getting in and belting up quickly.

"Forevermore quote the raven." She said and laughed at my being stunned.

FOREVERMORE, FOREVERMORE, FOREVERMORE -- the words were like the raven had said them. I could actually hear that bird saying them in me head. I needed a drink! And I needed it soon, so I drove us to our next stop, which was me idea, Alexander Keith's Brewery.

Gabe
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