Thalassic

Thalassic -adjective
1 of or pertaining to seas and oceans.
2 of or pertaining to smaller bodies of water, as seas and gulfs, as distinguished from large oceanic bodies.
3 growing, living, or found in the sea; marine.

I am on a sea-faring adventure but I have yet to hop on a boat. 
My feet remain firmly planted on the ground, except for my zip lining adventure over Reversing Falls.   

Thalassic icons are everywhere. Tourists flood off the cruise ships from New York, creating a tide to match the famous highs and lows of the New Brunswick coastline. The huge vessels feed tourism throughout the warmer months, and tower over the small historic city centre, a city which claims to be the oldest 'incorporated' city in Canada (whatever that means).

The strong Irish and seafaring heritage is omnipresent. Fishing boats, speed boats, waterproof boots for sale, stacks of buoys and lobster baskets.The sea smells. The maritime looking men with their glasses, caps, weathered grey faces, broad bellies and stubby workers hands (occasionally missing a finger). We arrange sight seeing expeditions around the ebb and flow of the cruise passengers, and eat mussels in a 'sports bar'. Every booth has a private TV, and I count six screens on each side of the four-sided bar. I am shown the 'Reversing Falls' where the tides from the Bay of Fundy meet the St John River. Seals frolic in the bay, and I learn the history of lumbering, fishing, local crafts and ecology at the local Museum. Iam however, most amused by the graphic CSI style display and footage of the frozen bodies of explorers seeking the North West passage through the Arctic - dying from Lead poisoning (their tinned rations the culprits). Exhumed frozen bodies are fascinatingly gross and a sure crowd-puller.

All the signage is in French and English, but I dont hear anyone speak French, and I am constantly aware of the industrial  backdrop. Steaming paper mill alongside reversing falls, huge chunks of hillsides exposed by open cut mines, excavations and load-carting trucks commonplace.  I am staying in the suburbs, well beyond the polished pics of the tourism brochures. A city-like oil refinery traverses the hills. Five giant and stocky concrete tanks spell,  I-R-V-I-N-G. (I keep thinking, JR Ewing from Dallas) Along our travels Richard points to many things and says,'Irvings own that'. He talks a lot about 'when I worked for Irving', or 'the Irving family did...', or 'see those old guys, they'd work for Irvings'. It seems all roads in St John lead to the 
Irvings, obviously the biggest employer and possibly, influence, in the town. 

The toursist season is coming to a close and the town is preparing for winter. I try my best to be a 'maritimer' for a few days- I spend an inordinate amount of time in drive-throughs and 'Tim Hortons' ordering coffees with 'three milk'. I am as open mouthed by the menus as the customers are about my hair (a whole blog on this to come). We go to the movies, which are full and personally introduced my the theatre manager. It's a world away from Queanbeyan/ Canberra, and a universe away from New York...