FORAGE for festivals like Jazz Fest, Just for Laughs or Osheaga in Montreal.
DESTROY poutine at Lafayette Hot Dog 1870 in Montreal.
JAM some culture at the Canadian Museum of History in Gatineau.
MUSH a dog team in the Chaudière-Appalaches region.
SHIVER YOUR TIMBERS with a stay at the Hôtel de Glace (the only ice hotel in North America).
PEEP birds on Bonaventure Island. Sit in the bush with binoculars without worrying about looking pervy, ’cuz everyone else is too.
DEMOLISH a slice at Sapori Di Napoli in Montreal.
Manitobahds
Bahd Bands
The Guess Who
Burton Cummings
Randy Bachman
Crash Test Dummies
Neil Young
The Watchmen
The Weakerthans
The Wailin’ Jennys
Susan Aglukark
Terry Jacks
Five Notable Bahds
Anna Paquin. True Blood. X-Men. The Squid and the Whale. But first seen in The Piano, for which she won an Oscar at age eleven.
Donnelly Rhodes. Journeyman Canadian actor. The dad on Danger Bay!
Jonathan Toews. Puck bahd. Arguably the second-best all-around player in the NHL after Sid. Won just about every accolade possible, from medals to Cups.
Monte Halperin. Better known as Monty Hall, the host of Let’s Make a Deal.
Nia Vardalos. My Big Fat Greek Wedding put her on the worldwide map.
The Drive to Winnipeg
Taggart
It’s a fuck of a long drive from Toronto to Winnipeg. There is no better word in the English language than “fuck” to measure the feeling of that goddamned length of a drive. It breaks you down when you sit and wait for Ontario to end. The first “fuck” hits you in Sudbury. That’s when you get a good four-hour punch in the gut that leaves you with the pain of knowing you haven’t even started getting out of Ontario yet and the understanding that this is gonna be a while. Fuck me.
The straight shot to Winni is a backbreaker. You don’t appreciate it the first time. I sat in the back of our tour van, spending my time sleeping or chatting. You’ve told your life story by Sault Ste. Marie, and you’re arguing by Marathon. It never stops. It’s like George Chuvalo in his prime. You aren’t going to beat it with ease. It’s going to take you to your inner limit and test your relationship with everyone in the vehicle.
Fuck! You’re only in Nipigon! It’s been fourteen hours and you’ve still got a couple of seasons of The Beachcombers to go, bahd! Thun-der Bay for a piss and you think you’re almost there, and then you make the mistake of asking how much farther it is. Another ten hours? Fuck. You start questioning the maps at this point, looking at them to explain to you this bullshit madness of how big Ontario is. By the time you hit Dryden you are numb, thinking all of Canada is a joke you weren’t in on and that Ontario is the only province. By the time you hit Kenora, you would bet money on Ontario never ending.
Then the winding and rolling road starts to straighten . . . and you’re in Manitoba! The sense of accomplishment is kind of hollow, but it feels like you’ve been saved from a deserted island and you’re gonna make it to see another day.
The first time I was in Winnipeg, it was for a show where OLP opened for I Mother Earth at the Zoo in Osborne Village. We stayed at the hotel attached to it. What a place. The absolute winner of the Canadianity Greasies. Needles under the beds, hookers knocking on your door all night, arguments and banged-up people everywhere. This was the good stuff. Reality, strong and indiscriminate. The soap in the bathroom would shatter like glass if dropped. That’s class.
The music venue was also pretty hardcore. Three huge, bald bouncers and a little bald guy who was clearly trying to be accepted. I say this because he was the subject of the kind of bullying I’ve never seen since. For example, two of the big bouncers would hold the little guy against the pool table, while the third would run from across the room and jump onto him. This happened several times. Upon load-in in the alley, I saw what looked like a large spine sitting in the corner. I’m not sure if it was animal. What a place!
The place was absolutely jammed. It was my first real taste of Winnipeg music fans. They were going apeshit—it was incredible. There was a rope across the front of the stage instead of the modern barricades. They were stage diving, moshing and singing along. The mad, burling bouncers were totally handling them too, catching flying bodies like rag dolls and putting them down with ease. It was so fresh and aggressive to me, a controlled chaos. I loved it.
It was such a great energy that I became a huge fan of Winnipeg. That ridiculously long drive was worth it. I’d spent all my youth in southern Ontario. Seeing all the character in Winnipeg, I really needed that understanding and perspective. So friendly and also so real. It’s great to see how much it’s grown since. Having the Jets back is nice too. I always enjoy my time there.
Two days after that wicked show at the Zoo, I was in Brandon, another classic spot. I can’t remember much about that day other than it was April 7—my birthday. I was sitting in the mini–school bus/tour van that we’d bought after Naveed was released. It was a full-blown A-Team-style mini-RV. Plenty of benches that folded flat and a cargo area for our gear, secured by a steel wall that Mike Turner welded quite nicely. It had an army barracks vibe. Hence the A-Team reference.
I was sitting in the van and waiting to drive to Regina when I heard the news that Kurt Cobain had been found dead in his house, and he had died by suicide. It was the shittiest news. It was really jarring. Nirvana was such a perfect blend of actual punk feeling and integrity, married with an understanding of pop songs. Kurt had one of the strongest voices of his generation, but he kind of got lost on his path somewhere. That drive to Regina was pretty quiet. Perfect long, straight drive to collect your thoughts.
Bahd Ambassadors
Jay Onrait and Brittney Thomas-Ljungberg
We asked TSN anchor and turbo-bahd Jay Onrait to be a Bahd Ambassador. Not only did he deliver what he knew (coming up in Saskatchewan), but he also subcontracted Winnipeg to his friend Brittney. Here are her solid Winnipeg tips!
The thing about Winnipeg is that we hole up for several months of the year. Everyone seems to have a bunch of side projects or cool things going on, so most places have multiple uses or an equally cool sister project.
•Clementine. Beautiful breakfasts, cocktails, juices and coffee in the basement of a heritage building in the Exchange District.
•Forth. A multi-floor establishment. On the first floor is a coffee roaster and café that makes great food and gorgeous coffees. Below is a dark, candlelit cocktail bar that lets you sabre your own champagne bottles, as well as an art gallery. In the nicer months, you can head upstairs to the rooftop for parties.
•Vera. Classic pizzas done right. On Mondays there’s a $1 corkage fee and you’ll see a lot of industry regulars around. In summertime they have a cute patio to enjoy. Did I mention how much we love patios? Short summers mean we really wanna take it all in.
•Bar Italia. Best patio in the entire city. During the day you can make pals with old Italian men. At night it’s got a nice, friendly dive bar feeling, with pinball and VLTs. If you aren’t avoiding your ex, you’re there to go home with your next.
•The Handsome Daughter. This place is 80 percent bar and 20 percent restaurant. The food is great here at night, and they do the best eggs benny on the weekends. However, the Handsome Daughter is mostly a venue for music shows, various trivia nights and karaoke. Staff have a wonderfully dark sense of humour.
•Sous Sol. Weird little French restaurant in a basement, staffed by a few lovable weirdos. Menu is ever-changing, cocktail program is amazing and there are always some inside jokes hidden on the menu. Only open on the weekends, and they love doing chef’s table.
•Deer + Almond. Inventive food done by a group of inventive people. Wine, great cocktails and a few beers. The art and plates are even thou
ghtfully unique.
•Máquè. This is one of Scott Bagshaw’s restaurants. Basically, anything he does is worth checking out. This one is Asian, with plates for sharing, other than their amazing steamed buns. No cocktails here, though. Just wine, beer and perhaps some whisky. If you’re waiting for a table, head to nearby Close Company, a tiny cocktail bar, in the meantime.
Playing in the ’Peg
Torrens
That’s the thing about Manitoba: people show up.
It’s a special place. Any band or standup comic will tell you there are no better audiences than Manitoba audiences. Manito-bahds buy their tickets early and stay late. For whatever reason, easily two-thirds of the viewer letters to Street Cents were from The Pas, Manitoba.
The first time I discovered this firsthand was when we were doing some Jonovision episodes on location at the Forks in Winnipeg and hundreds of kids showed up. That was also the first time I tried an authentic pierogi. Whoa. Both events left me feeling overwhelmed and delighted and with a lump in my throat.
We did a “Jonopalooza” episode with headliners Jet Set Satellite and a bunch of local kid bands. There was one in particular called the Rock Band, and I still listen to their CD all the time. I loved that we were able to give these young bands national exposure on TV. What a thrill that must’ve been for them.
We also did a “Matchmaker 2000” ep. It’s a great concept. Three teenaged boys were asked a series of Newlywed Game–style questions by a teenaged girl and her dad. Then the girl and the dad voted for which guy was the best fit. So the girl asked questions like “If you were an animal, which animal would you be?” The dad asked questions more like “Gimme one reason I shouldn’t kick your a**?” If they got a match, the pair went out on a date paid for by us. Good, clean fun. And funny.
Jonovision was always a wrestling match between the comedy show for teenagers that we wanted to make and the kids-talk-about-the-issues show that the CBC wanted. So it ended up being both. Sometimes it was a sketch show, sometimes a chat show. That dichotomy is also what made it fun to watch, because you never knew on any given day what the show might be.
It was a blast in our fifth and final season to take it on the road, and I’ll never forget the Winnipeg stop. When you shoot something in a studio, you kind of forget that it goes out into the world until you venture out and meet people firsthand who know every sketch and remember things you don’t. It’s the same with TnT.
Another time, I was in Manitoba with John Dunsworth and Pat Roach, better known as Lahey and Randy from Trailer Park Boys. We played the Burton Cummings Theatre to a packed house of Sunnyvale fans, and then the same the next night in Brandon.
John Dunsworth is a fascinating creature. Razor sharp and eccentric. Mischievous and confident. He built a rock wall to shelter his home from the sea by collecting boulders one at a time from ditches along the highway on his nightly drives home from the set. Neither he nor his mind ever stop. One of my proudest achievements in life is beating him at Scrabble. Once. He’s in the 600-to-700-points-a-game range.
An actor for over forty years, John understands and appreciates more than anyone what a rare lightning-in-a-bottle quality Trailer Park Boys has. He’ll instantly go into character for anyone who asks—anywhere, anytime. At a traffic light, in a restaurant, at a gas station. He also secretly loves it when people tell him to “F*ck off, Lahey!”
John has taught me so many great lessons about acting. He is so fearless and committed in the role of Lahey, and he does things that the rest of us wouldn’t have the courage to do. But it’s how he approaches playing a drunk that blew my mind.
First of all, he doesn’t drink. At all.
Second, his feeling is that when people are really drunk, they’re not stumbling all over the place and crashing into walls. They’re trying their best to hold it together. So the more Lahey keeps it barely together, the funnier it is when he finally does fall down a staircase. It’s so effective.
Pat Roach was an executive at a bottled-water company when Trailer Park Boys started. During the first couple of seasons, he just cashed in vacation days to shoot his Randy scenes. Finally, as the third season was about to start, his boss at the water company gave him an ultimatum.
“Pat, I don’t think you can be an executive here and the guy on TV with no shirt on. You’re going to have to choose.”
Fortunately for Canadian television history, he chose the show. Here’s the best part. A year later, his boss came to him and asked if he would help train the new executives—as Randy!
Pat loses weight every winter and has to go into cheeseburger training in the spring. For optimal bulbousness, he’ll eat two or three double cheeseburgers a day for several weeks leading up to taping. The best part about his stomach is that you can’t even tell he has it if you’re standing behind him. He’s a slender-hipped anomaly.
John and Pat’s relationship on the road is adorable. Pat books the flights, John drives the rental car. Pat arranges meals, John deals with venues. They even call each other Randy and Lahey. Their real-life banter is as endearing as their characters.
Lake or Fake?
Canada has so many crazy names for lakes, many of them sound like a joke. Grab yer two-piece and yer two-four and guess if these guys are lakes or fakes.
1.Molson Lake
2.Lake Chachi
3.Cabonga Reservoir
4.Shart Lake
5.Peter Pond Lake
6.Lac Googlie
7.Gary Lake
8.Lake Darrell
9.Lac Swassis/Saucisse
10.Lake Winnipegosis
11.Peckerwood Lake
12.Pickle Lake
13.God’s Lake
14.Lake Phaneuf
15.Lake Pekwachna-maykoskwask-waypinwanik
16.Lake Titicaca
Numbers 2, 4, 6, 8, 9 and 14 are FAKE. Numbers 1, 10, 13 and 15 are lakes in Manitoba; number 3 is in Quebec; number 5 is in Saskatchewan; number 7 is in Nunavut; number 11 is in Arkansas; number 12 is in Ontario; and number 16 is in the Andes, between Bolivia and Peru.
Camp or Crap?
A variation on Lake or Fake is Camp or Crap. Camps are supposed to have weird names, but are some of these too ridiculous to be real? Get your happy campers to take a stab at these:
1.Camp Coodaloogoo (Skiff Lake, New Brunswick)
2.Camp Watchalista Counselah (Winkler, Manitoba)
3.Camp Itchialeggey (Falcon Lake, Manitoba)
4.Camp Trustafunda (Chestermere, Alberta)
5.Camp Crotchadoo (Stormer Lake, Ontario)
6.Camp Leavem Malone (Duncan, British Columbia)
7.Camp Touch This (Michipicoten Provincial Park, Ontario)
8.Camp Getchi Clothesoff (Mahone Bay, Nova Scotia)
9.Camp Ing (Carpenter Lake, British Columbia)
10.Camp Catcha Virus (Sars Lake)
Trick question. They’re all fake.
A rare piece of Trailer Park trivia for you while we’re on the subject. Philadelphia Collins, aka the Mustard Tiger, was played with vigour by an actor named Richard Collins, who sadly isn’t with us anymore.
Phil’s burps were legendary in volume and scope. I’m semi-proud to say they were actually mine. Clattenburg and the sound department would roll tape and wait while I chugged a can of Diet Coke and hopped up and down for a moment or two to get things going.
The Movie Trick and Manitoba Memories
Taggart
When you’re a musician on the road, life slows down a bit during the twenty-two-hour stretches in between the ninety minutes you spend onstage. You sleep as long as you can, see the sights (even that gets old if you’re in a new city every day for two years straight) and watch movies—shitloads of movies. I remember being in Winnipeg with OLP when Pulp Fiction came out. It was playing at the theatre in the Polo Park mall. This was a great way to kill a night off, and we were pretty burnt out from a long run of touring.
We got to the mall and saw a lineup all the way out the door and down
the escalators. Apparently, half of Winnipeg wanted to see this Quentin Tarantino joint as much as we did. His first feature-length film, Reservoir Dogs, had been a cult classic that paved the way for a perfect buildup of hype to entice this ram-jammed crowd in Polo Park. All hope for an enjoyable night out at the movies seemed to be lost. Except that I remembered my dad had told me about a classic trick to get into films for free.
He used to use it on busy nights in the Bronx in the ’50s. He would go with fellas in his boyhood gang, the Junior Bacooches, wait until the early movie let out, and then slowly walk backwards through the middle of the crowd coming out. Not all at once—that would look too obvious. Just one at a time, three steps back, one step forward. People don’t notice it because they’re in a rush to leave. So you kind of wedge your way, at a reasonable backwards pace, into the lobby, and then through the ticket gate, which is always unmanned. A key point: you have to make sure you’re in the centre of the crowd and not on the fringes.
I went first to prove that the gambit worked, and when the others noticed that I hadn’t come back out, they followed suit. It worked like a charm! The key is that it has to be a busy night. You can’t do it otherwise—you’ll never make it without the crowd.
Anyway, we got in and had plenty of time to buy snacks and drinks—hell, we even had president’s choice of seats! The kids cleaning up from the last showing just saw us as eager ticket-holders, awaiting the start of the film.
What a great movie it was, too! We had a fantastic night. I went a couple more times to see it—paying in full, because it was worth every dollar. But I’ll tell you, every time I see a clip from Pulp Fiction, I think of that great move that Ronnie bequeathed upon me. Thanks, Dad!
When Jono and I played Winnipeg, we were lucky enough to stop at Stella’s, a fantastic breakfast spot. It was a great move, we had a super-cool waitress who cracked us up and the food was fresh and tasty. I even picked up a jar of their famous jam to send to Jay Onrait as a fun gift of Canadianity, but when I was flying home from Saskatoon, they wouldn’t let me take it on the plane! They said it was going to the food bank, so at least it wasn’t getting tossed out. Sorry, Jay!
Canadianity Page 11
