Friday's with Bri - Ford Focus Review

 The car we named Sharona (m-m-my Sharona!)

 2012 FORD FOCUS:  BRIAN'S REVIEW

This trip to Nova Scotia which you have all heard a lot about was incredible and I have to say that Ford made it an easy trip. They lent us a Focus for the trip and I am super impressed. we even named it Sharona.

 

Here is a quick video review of the 2012 Ford Focus.

PS. A huge Thank you to Jordan for holding the camera while I drove. It made it nice that I could pay attention to the drive and give a proper review of the car.

This Focus got us to some amazing places, pretty much eveywhere east of Ottawa! We saw the world's longest covered bridge, the oldest light house in PEI, the Jost Winery, Hopewell Rocks, and 4 provinces. It helped us create some great memories in the process; Thank you, Ford Canada, for the gracious loan of the car for our trip; it made the whole journey a lot more fun...especially showing off the Active Park Assist! Sharona drove us the full 3000km for the trip and we were able to pack our entire trip with ease. 

The car got great mileage; we spent well under our alloted budget of 500.00 on gas for the entire trip. It's a very peppy car, which took Jordan a while to get used to, since our current car is lightyears less responsive. The built-in navigational system was fanastic, and it's the only reason why all six of us survived the trip without driving into a lake or murdering each other; we actually used the Focus's GPS to get us around Nova Scotia and guide the other cars in our convoy because people's cell phone navigation systems kept losing their signals.

Dual climate control made Jordan's trip perfect. She is always cold, and I am always hot, so this feature helped bring peace and happiness to the drive. There wasn't a single argument over the A/C settings on either 14-hour drive, nor any of the drives we took during the week. Amazing!

The Focus offered great fuel economy, comfortable handling, and helpful features like GPS and an alarm to tell you if you've left the parking break on. When we got home and piled into our own ancient clunker, both of us really missed Sharona pretty badly.

Oh, and space! The Focus managed to surprise everyone with how it handled the insane over-packing that Jordan threw at it:

We fit: 

4 Suit cases of different sizes

2 Acoustic guitars

1 Semi-hollow-body jazz guitar

1 cooler 

5 fabric shopping bags

1 set of juggling clubs

1 remote controlled miniature helicopter

1 back pack

2 purses

2 driftwood sticks

4 grape vine seedlings
3 yoga mats
1 car safety kit
1 case of water
1 coffee mug
2 water bottles
and

2 people

 My amazing driving partner

At the Jost winery

Now some great pictures of the memories the car had:

Chase's Lobster pound

Parked in front of Murphy's fish and chips

Oldest light house in PEI

The NEST in NS: Where Jordan becomes a legendary stripper.

A FAMILY REUNION

On our last day in Nova Scotia, we went to Heather Beach, near Pugwash, to meet my extended family. I find these types of reunions to be stressful: there's a lot of expectation that you're going to get along really well simply because you're related. There's also the strange awkwardness that comes when someone says, "I met you when you were knee-high to a grasshopper!" but all you remember from that trip was that someone gave you a Carebear.

My worries were for nothing, however. We arrived, were introduced to everyone, and then my second-cousin Rob took us all for a walk on the beach. Heather Beach (and the surrounding beach coastline) is called a sandbar beach--when the tide is low, it stretches endlessly out in either direction, and the water is shallow and warm. We had a great walk, even spying some hermit crabs and starfish. Finally on a beach with temperate waters and no jellyfish, I waded out and enjoyed standing in my beloved ocean. 

THE LIVING ARCHIVES

We headed back to my great-aunt's cottage, where the family shared stories from fifty years past. I couldn't believe the types of tiny details people remembered: my grandfather cheating at cards, my Uncle Larry hitchhiking from Ottawa about forty years back, and even the type of icebox my great-grandma had in her cottage. Tucked away here at the end of the country was all my family's history, preserved better than any history book or photo album could ever do. 

SO FAR, SO...OOPS.

We chatted through dinner and into the evening, and at one point my BFF, MJ, sent me a text checking in. I wrote back that, despite my sometimes crippling social anxiety, I was managing to converse with ease, and everything had gone splendidly. My worries had been for nothing: I had lots to talk about with my second-cousin, and everyone else was chatting, too. Even my concerns about cultural differences (my dad is a conservative, for example, while my cousin Rob works in addictions...a minefield there for sure) turned out to be for nothing. As we prepared to leave for the ride back home, I breathed a sigh of relief: the evening had gone off without a hitch.

A few minutes later, someone hollered out that they'd found a cell phone on a table, and I recognized it as Brian's. I claimed it, and loudly proclaimed that anything else found lying about was likely Brian's, too...

...and that's when I looked down, and discovered that my skirt was on the floor. 

My artist's representation...just a quick one on
my iPad.

The zipper must have come undone, and because I was wearing tights, I didn't even feel the breeze on my backside. I had stood up, walked a couple steps, and only because other people were staring with open mouths at my feet did I, too, look down. 

"Well," I said, "Anything lying around is Brian's, except  my skirt," Everyone laughed goodnaturedly, and even I had a chuckle, though there was a voice in my head screaming that this would never be forgotten. At the same  moment I told my brain that wouldn't happen, my great-aunt said between guffaws, "This will be the new Kent family story!" 

So my official entry into the indelible memories of the family history keepers is that I stood up,  proclaimed my husband's ownership of everything on the floor, then dropped my skirt. Wonderful.

It was a lovely day, and a great way to spend our last day in Nova Scotia. And I certainly left with a perfectly Jordan-esque 'bang'. 

The NEST in NS: Hopewell Rocks, NB

HOPEWELL ROCKS ROCKED.

Technically, this post is about New Brunswick; but we first got the idea to visit Hopewell Rocks when Brian and I were watching a show called Departures; two young Canadian guys started a world tour, and began at this incredible place. When we saw the show, we  knew we had to see it ourselves.

Hopewell Rocks is a place along the Bay of Fundy where the tides are the highest in all the world. Apparently, they're also pretty violent, because they've been wearing away at the rocks there, creating stunning, gravity-defying rock formations that have been the subject of the area's Aboriginal lore for generations.

The drive to get to the rocks was three hours long. It was worth every minute. I don't actually know what else I can say...I think I'll let the photos do the talking. (Many of these were taken by my dad, Bill Kent--always wise to bring a professional photographer on any trip!)

Baby falcon!

Brian and Mike

Jordan and brother Mike.

The original Kents.

The NEST in NS: Hitting the vacation 'wall'.

HITTING THE 'WALL'

There comes a point in every trip a traveller makes where the glamour wears off and you just want to go home. Marathon runners call this ‘the wall’: the point where your physical self says ‘No’, while your brain has to persevere and say, ‘Yes’. I hit my wall on Tuesday on this trip, and I suspect you’ll quite easily see why.

EATEN ALIVE

First brick in the wall was the mosquito bites. I don’t know what kind of German-swim-team steroids it is that Nova Scotia is feeding to their mosquitos, but these suckers swarm like plagues of locusts, and can apparently eat you through your clothes. After Monday night’s bonfire, where I sat for several hours perched on the bare metal frame of a patio chair, I had 28 mosquito bites on my backside. Despite my jeans, those suckers had managed to pierce my skin over two-dozen times on my ass and upper thighs. I showed Brian, and even Mr Unshakable bellowed out a curse. He hadn’t even yet noticed the grape-sized bites on my jugular, temples, and knees. I thought about my friend Graham, who is a tree planter in British Columbia and who is routinely savaged by bat-sized bugs…and I determined that my mosquito trauma is worse, because Graham is at least dressed for battle, whereas I brought cute little sundresses.

Swollen foot. Sad!

THE DEER FLY-EATEN FOOT 

The second brick was the deer fly bite. Deer flies, for those who haven’t experienced these devils, are giant flies that actually bite a piece of you off; they make mosquitos look like benevolent pixies and mosquito bites look like freckles. I used to get bitten by these monsters all the time as a kid at our campground, but I haven’t had a run-in in many years; turns out, my body has developed some sort of hate-on for the suckers. I learned this when I swatted one, mid-bite, off the top of my foot, then watched in horror as my foot swelled up enormously until I couldn’t wiggle my toes. Aside from the pain, which was akin to the feeling of a black eye except in my foot, there was also this terrible tingling as my body fought the anti-coagulant chemical that the fly had spat into the wound. I hobbled around for the next two days, and here on day three, it’s now half as swollen but ten times as itchy.

THE YOGA GAUNTLET

The boys, heckling and totally NOT exercising.

These discomforts drove me to seek out a pleasant afternoon activity, so I changed into workout clothes, grabbed my yoga mat, and went out into the field behind the cottage for a good round of yoga. This, my friends, was the final brick in that wall of mine. As I began my asanas, my brother, brother-in-law, Brian, and the foreign exchange student all sat on lawn chairs drinking beer and watching me. After a while, my mother came to sit, as well. I kept my focus as best I could, until Dad came out with the dogs. Two of the pups became wildly alarmed by my poses and began circling me and barking. I stopped my routine and calmed them down, and returned to my mat just in time to see my dad coming up to me with my other yoga mat. He laid it down and we all stared in shock as we thought he was about to join me…when he pulled out his remote-controlled helicopter, and began using my mat as a helipad.

You want to test your ability to stay focused in a yoga routine? Try to bend yourself into a downward-facing dog while hearing the angry whirring of chopper blades as they slice the air just a few feet away from you.

The kite, mocking me.

At this point, the rest of the family became inspired to start an activity as well. I watched in dumbfounded awe as my brother picked up a boomerang and began learning how to use it just a few meters away from where I was. Brian and Jed grabbed—I kid you not—a croquet set, and designed a route that encircled my yoga area. Yeah, because there’s nothing as relaxing as trying to do a pigeon pose while rock-hard balls ricochet across the lawn around you. Then somebody unfurled a hideous yellow kite sporting a grin and a pair of sunglasses, and that mocked me from the sky as I performed my warrior poses.

Within ten minutes of me beginning my yoga, my entire family had armed themselves with clubs, balls, canines, motorized blade-wielding toys, and a kite string to finish me off like a garrotte, if all else failed. I lay on my back in resting pose and stared up into the mocking face of the yellow kite, and fumed a bit.

Eventually, I found my calm place and finished my routine. It was surreal to be deep-breathing and performing these slow, smooth motions in the midst of utter anarchy. Once I got my second wind, much like the marathon runner, I felt better and moved past my vacation 'wall'. I rolled up my mat and added to the familial cacophony by pulling out my guitar and trying to learn a new song. Because if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. 

SO FAR, SO GOOD...

I survived demon mosquitos, an anaphylactic foot caused by deer fly, and my family. I had pushed past my ‘wall’, and was ready for more vacation. Of course, I didn’t know what PEI had in store for us the next day…

The NEST in NS: Pictou, Nova Scotia and Fish n' Chips!

Brian pulling in at Murphy's

PICTOU: HISTORICAL AND DELICIOUS

Tuesday found us in Pictou, Nova Scotia's first settlement of Scotsman. 

MURPHY'S FISH & CHIPS

Tuesday found us in Pictou, with a checklist of sites to see. We started off by immediately heading into Murphy's Fish & Chips: a restaurant internationally acclaimed for having the best fish n' chips in the world. Friends, let me tell ya: it did not disappoint.

Gerard, owner of Murphy's, keeps his fish batter recipe to himself, and that's a very good idea. His fish, served in huge filets with a crisp, flavourful batter crust, was far and away the finest any of us had ever had. With crispy fries to complement the haddock, and salad for those with a desire for greens, every platter was licked clean. Whole fried clams were passed around the table; these babies were tender and delicious. 

We took home one of Murphy's other secret recipes: a butterscotch pie, piled high with real whipped cream. The pie was fantastic, with a delicate butterscotch flavour, a perfectly-baked crust, and all that rich whipped cream. I'm salivating right now, knowing there's one slice left in the fridge...

The Hector, a replica tall ship.

If you're in Pictou, friends, Murphy's is a must. When back this way, we'll be back there again, I am absolutely certain.

SHOPPING AROUND TOWN

My dad's big goal for this particular town was to get himself down to the Grohman knife factory and get himself a good chef's knife. Grohman knives are reknown the world over, and Dad had a field day choosing one for himself. 

Meanwhile, Mom and I headed down the street to find some locally made goodies. Pictou has a high number of gift shops, but the nice thing is that a huge majority of their wares are locally made. I picked up a couple things, including a really cool gift for my BFF. Brian got himself a tie pin with the MacGregor clan's crest on it--his mom's family crest.

While we shopped, my brother's partner and exchange student went to the Hector, a replica tall ship and museum, which they also really enjoyed.

Brian considers a locally-made hat.
The pipe, naturally, is already his.

PIZZA PARTY, SCRABBLE BATTLE

The evening ended with us heading back to the cottage and making personal pizzas on the BBQ using greek pitas. Then we brought out the Scrabble board. Turns out my brother Mike has never played before (I do not know how this is possible), so we taught him how. Then basically, Mike and I were just token players while the real battle raged between Mom and Brian. Their weeks-long Words With Friends fight was now an in-person war. By the end of the game, both warriors had hundreds of points, with Mike and I claiming maybe 150 between us. Mom won, but it could have gone either way.

The evening ended with a thousand mosquitos scaring us back into the house, and an early bedtime in preparation for the next day's adventures. I expect there to be a rematch of the Scrabble game, though; maybe this time I'll just watch. Safer that way.

The family at Murphy's

The NEST in NS: Seafoam Lavender Farm

Jordan, Suzy, Brian at the Lavender farm.

After grabbing a quick lunch at The Chowder House in Tatamagouche—where their delicious crab and lobster chowders, filled with giant chunks of seafood, put the Campbells cans to shame—we headed down the road to where I really wanted to go.

SEAFOAM LAVENDER FARM

Everyone on this trip has something they have specifically requested to see, and mine was the Seafoam Lavender Farm. I admit, I didn’t know anything actually about it when I picked it out as my ‘must see’ attraction; but I have a deep love of lavender and could not miss the opportunity to see it…as well as to ask them why my own lavender never blossoms.

We headed over to the farm, which is a stone’s throw from our cottage. Just driving by, you can smell the heady aroma of the lavender which grows in deep purple rows all across the property. We were greeted by owner Suzy Belt, who took us on an educational tour, introducing us to the many varieties of lavender. Her plants were so robust that, with just a gentle touch of the leaves, your hand came away smelling lovely.

Suzy inherited the farm from her grandmother, and three years she settled on a crop that would be a pleasure to manage. All lavender here is organically grown, and they produce their own lavender products on site, like tea, soaps, honey, and essential oils, which you can buy in their shop on-site during the summer, or at the Halifax Seaport Market. Or online, for those of you not headed out this way in person.

Jordan, Jordan's mom, and Jordan's brother, in the lavender!

Like so many Nova Scotians we’ve met so far on our trip, Suzy is a complete sweetheart. She showed us around the farm, gave us tips on helping out our own sad plants at home, and even sent me away with a bunch of lavender to try drying myself. The farm is obviously picturesque, right near the coastline; you’re invited to bring a picnic lunch and sit amongst the lavender, perhaps on one of the purple-painted benches or picnic tables. There are also lavender plants available for purchase—ones that are already blooming, unlike my sad green bushy affair back at the house.

This was a great spot to stop for a lotion, potion, or souvenir, and a wonderful chat with a warm-hearted local. We left with a bunch of lavender products and smiles on our faces. Whether you’ve got time for a picnic or time for a quick hello, we strongly recommend you head down to the Seafoam Lavender Farm!

Seafoam Lavender Farm, 3768 Highway 6

Corner of Hedgeville Rd and Highway 6 (1km east of the Seafoam Campground)

Shop online: www.LavenderCanada.com