Restocked

Day 31

This morning we made some new friends. The Pirate was heading out to wash the dishes, and I was chasing after him with the forgotten scrubbie, when I heard “hey, you're the motorcycle girl!”. Our neighbor, Maggie, and her boyfriend Roy are in Cymbria from Ottawa. Well, Roy is from Jamaica, and is a Rastaman head to toe. He doesn't speak much, he seems to be shy about his accent. Once the Pirate was back from his chores, and the two guys started talking bikes, the ice was broken, lawd-a-MER-say. Our conversation turned to border crossings, so we shared our sad little tale. It's true what they say: a friend in need is a friend indeed.

We have a big day planned. We're heading to Charlottetown on another supply run. Since it's Saturday, most things should be open. First we stop in at the outfitters to get more fuel and some all purpose soap. It's an oasis of well stocked outdoor gear. The 24 year old working the counter, bless his heart, tries for a second to school me about the best sized fuel canister, and why I shouldn't want the size I'm asking for (boy, do not make me yank you over this counter and slap you. I've been doin' this shit since before your own daddy had ever been campin'! Plus, how do you know what size I can handle?)

Next on the agenda is to find a health food store since, horrors, I have run out of body oil. Thirty one days ago I had 4 oz, which I thought would last the summer. But, though I am not concerned about my spots, I do nourish my skin everyday with a thick layer of my very own hand blended super rich massage & body oil. Anyway, we found a sweet little health food store downtown on Water Street called the Root Cellar. They also had island roasted coffee there, so we got some (dark roasted, finely ground), and some sorely missed dark chocolate, and a little bottle of organic sesame oil (not toasted).

Next, the moment that we are very excited about, but not getting our hopes up for, is the Charlottetown Farmer's market, which happens each Wednesday and Saturday from 9-2. We eye the scene from the parking lot suspiciously: is it a touristy venue with over priced small portions of mediocre food? Is it as good as they say? With only an hour left today, is it all sold out? We inch closer, and we begin to see and smell that we are in for a treat. The market is almost entirely indoors a brightly colored building. Inside, the rafters are exposed and sunlight pours through the many windows. The stalls are a blend of gardeners, cheese makers, purveyors of prepared foods, desserts cases, crafters of pottery, leather and etc, people selling smoked fish, fresh smoothies, frying doughnuts, and on and on.

We tour the whole market before deciding on our lunch. First, we visit Grandma Jowarski's and get two cabbage rolls and 6 perogies (3 with potato and cheddar and 3 with spelt flour and sweet potato). There is a squeeze bottle full of sour cream for a garnish, and also their homemade hot sauces. Before we leave, the cook comes over to chat with us: where are we from, how did we get here, how are we liking it, and the very best wishes for a great adventure. Man, that's what I call “saying grace”. With a little room left on our plate, we go over a few booths and get a pulled pork sandwich on a toasty whole wheat bun. Our plate looks full of good food, and we've only spent $15. We perch on a little bench out side and enjoy it all, the food, the folks and the beautiful weather.

We head back in for dessert. We choose a fruit tart with custard and caramelized almonds. It's delicious, and it's $2.50. I keep mentioning these prices because we have been so horrified at the cost of food in Canada. These prices seem reasonable, for the first time since we left home. The farmer's market is the best restaurant on PEI.

Once we are sufficiently stuffed, we run the rest of our errands and head for camp to freshen up and have a little nap, for tonight we are heading back to the racetrack.

The Oyster Bed Speedway is raring up again tonight. These races are shorter in duration, but end up being way more fun. They bring out the “modified”s, the cars that I would describe as “hot wheels race cars”. They seem longer than an average car, with a very low front, narrow little windows and an elaborate spoiler. These babies wreck all over the place. Nothing dangerous, nobody flips or explodes, but there tear each other up anyway.

There was one wreck where the safety guys pulled one car over to yank a big flapper of metal off the side. One guy twisted, pulled, yanked and wiggled the flapper to no avail. Another guy came over and tried to help, finally grabbing a shovel out of his truck to chop it off like it was the head of a snake. That still didn't work, so they tucked it in through his back window and sent him off the track. The crowd was howling with laughter.

When we watch these races, I catch myself saying “he” and “his” when referring to certain cars. To set the record straight, there are lots of women drivers here at the Oyster Bed Speedway, and they kick ass. They are every bit as fast, tough and devilish as the dudes on the track, if not more so.