Oakland Tribune: Ottawa: A cosmopolitan, cozy and exciting capital

WASHINGTON POST

ON previous trips to Canada, my wife, Susan, and I had explored the glamour cities -- Montreal, Toronto, Quebec, Vancouver, even Calgary. We were aware that the words "Ottawa" and "dull" are frequently twinned. We were intent, though, on spending a few days in the eastern Ontario city to learn what we could about Canada's culture and see how Ottawa matches up to Washington as a national capital. It was to be an almost sociological venture.

But first, some French food. And perhaps a little gambling.

Moments after checking into a European-style inn, we drove across the river to Hull, Quebec, where we'd hastily made dinner reservations at a venerable restaurant played up in all the guidebooks. The service was elegant, but the food was just average, and the place was too venerable for us, especially in vacation mode.

On to Casino du Lac-Leamy, another five minutes by car. We enjoyed the French-first bilingual banter at the roulette wheels and craps tables, but then gravitated toward something more our speed: the 25- cent slot machines.

We lost a few bucks worth of quarters, looked around and realized that the only place more depressing than the nonsmoking slots section of a casino is the smoking slots section. All told, our visit was off to an iffy start.

The next morning we asked the manager of the Gasthaus Switzerland B&B Inn, who is a lifelong resident of Ottawa, to name two places we absolutely should visit if we wanted to understand her city and its people.

Her directives: the Rideau Canal ("a unique, world-class feature") and the Byward Market ("because it encapsulates everything" -- commerce, governmental cooperation, entertainment and "farmers from outside").

She suggested that we start with a stroll from the federal district south on Elgin Street and back up the canal path. At Elgin and Queen streets, we saw Ottawa's equivalent of the Kennedy Center, the National Arts Centre.

We continued south on Elgin into a vibrant neighborhood dotted with bistros and small shops. Fifteen leisurely minutes later we reached Pretoria Bridge on the Rideau Canal.

The canal was built in the early 19th century when Canada -- then a fledgling British territory composed of Upper Canada (essentially modern-day Ontario) and Lower Canada (Quebec) -- was wary of U.S. military aggression.

It provided a 126-mile link from naval dockyards on Lake Ontario to Ottawa. Today it is a working waterway in summer and, in the heart of winter, an idyllic iceway billed as the world's longest skating rink.

We ambled north along the canal's pathway until we reached the eight meticulously maintained, hand-cranked Ottawa Locks.

From the locks we proceeded westward along a trail at the base of the 170-foot bluff on which Parliament Hill rests. Surrounded by lunchtime exercisers, we followed the macadam trail, curling up the hill to the National Archives of Canada.

There, we saw documents and depictions that brought to life the British, French, Inuit and immigrant elements of Canada's complex personality. There were renderings of French Gen. Louis-Joseph Marquis de Montcalm's defeat at the Plains of Abraham in Quebec City in 1759. It was a defeat that changed the course of history by giving Britain, not France, control over Canada. And it is a defeat the Quebecois still have not forgotten, as evidenced by the slogan on their license plates: Je me souviens (I remember).

There were images of the War of 1812, in which the United States declared war on Britain and attacked its nearest possessions, present- day Ontario and Quebec. "The war ended in a stalemate in 1814, but gave Canadians their first sense of community," one exhibit noted.

From the archives we walked a few blocks east, past the Supreme Court of Canada (theirs is majestic, but ours has more architectural heft) to Parliament. True to its roots, Parliament Hill, with its Gothic Revival style, is more reminiscent of London than Washington. The main Centre Block building, originally constructed just before Canada's confederation in 1867, was rebuilt after a 1916 fire.

We took a free guided tour that helped us sorta-kinda understand how Canada is at once a parliamentary democracy beholden to its people and a constitutional monarchy titularly beholden to the British Crown, which has a governor general in Ottawa to oversee matters of state. We were reminded that, like England, Canada has two legislative bodies, one elected by the citizens (the plebeian House of Commons) and one appointed virtually for life by the sitting prime minister (the lordly Senate). How all of these entities interact and why the Senate, in particular, is abided by the populace is difficult for an American to comprehend, but it seems to work quite well -- especially if the goal is a clean, safe, egalitarian, orderly society.

About the time the intricacies of Parliament were wearing thin, we went up to the observation deck of the Peace Tower and enjoyed an exhilarating bird's-eye view. Minutes later, back on the ground, we stumbled upon an only-in-Canada phenomenon: Catman on the Hill.

The Catman is 80-year-old Rene Chartrand. Since 1987, the retired house painter has spent most of his waking hours maintaining a colony of formerly stray cats a couple hundred yards west of Parliament's main entrance (just past the Cartier statue). The current feline population is 28. Relying on private donations, Chartrand feeds the cats daily, makes sure they are spayed and get their shots, and knows each one by name. The Catman is cool, and I don't even like cats.

The next morning, as we were walking across the Alexandra Bridge over the Ottawa River into Hull, it occurred to us that Ottawa and Washington, as different as they may be on many levels, are similar in at least two respects. The first is that each is located on a seam in the fabric of its nation. Ottawa is directly across the river from a province (Quebec) that has threatened to secede from the country; Washington is directly across the river from a state (Virginia) that did secede. The second similarity is that both were outposts selected as the capital over more obvious sites. Washington was chosen over New York and Philadelphia; Ottawa was selected, in 1857 by Queen Victoria, over Montreal and Toronto. We were contemplating these connections when we reached the Canadian Museum of Civilization.

A futuristic building on the Hull riverfront, the museum houses two permanent installations: the Grand Hall, which "celebrates Canada's Pacific Coast Native peoples," and Canada Hall, a serpentine display that chronicles the evolution of the nation from east to west and northwest. A special exhibit on the Charter of Rights and Freedoms reminded us that Canada's constitution is only 20 years old and has never been ratified by Quebec, the museum's home province.

After a walk back across the bridge for a quick look at the Canadian Museum of Contemporary Photography, we spent hours meandering across town from the Sparks Street Mall, a touristy, open- air plaza that covers five blocks; west to residential Bronson Avenue; south to Somerset Street and a substantial, homey Chinatown; and west again to Preston Street and Little Italy, where my demeanor and Sue's feet simultaneously said: Enough! Fifteen miles of walking in two days is plenty. So, we took a bus back to the inn.

Time for more French food. This evening we took more care and selected Le Panache, one of the dozens of small neighborhood dining establishments in Hull. From the outside, Le Panache looked like a nondescript house on a nondescript corner. Inside, there were maybe 10 tables. For more than two hours, Sue and I were treated to one of the most pleasant, low-key, high-quality, classic meals we've ever shared on this side of the Atlantic.

Pour madame:

escargot in a Gorgonzola cream sauce, a mixed green salad with a balsamic dijon vinaigrette, apple-brandy sorbet ("to cleanse the palate and leave room for dessert later," the waiter advised), a fresh spinach linguine with shrimp, pancetta and mushrooms, and a dark chocolate mousse cake.

Pour monsieur:

strawberry (!) gazpacho soup, wild boar pate with fruit chutney, sorbet, AAA Alberta beef filet mignon in a bordelaise sauce with assorted vegetables and, for dessert, a cheese plate.

Pour les deux:

a cabernet sauvignon. The bill, with tax and tip: $112 U.S.

On our last day in town, we explored the National Gallery of Canada and the Byward Market. The gallery is a magnificent glass structure. We spent several carefree hours wandering the airy, sky- lit building, which houses an extensive collection from all eras and styles. We especially enjoyed the signature Canadian galleries and the poignant Rideau Chapel, the interior of a former Ottawa convent that was preserved during demolition in the 1970s.

A few blocks away, at the Byward Market, we admired the scores of outdoor produce stands (open daily, April to November) and the dozens of reasonably priced specialty food stores (open year-round), any one of which makes Sutton Place Gourmet in Washington look as pedestrian as Safeway. Sue, a foodie at heart, was in heaven. And so was I.

Suddenly hungry, we went around the corner to the Memories Cafe, which our innkeeper had highly recommended. Sitting on the patio in the shadow of the behemoth, three-year-old U.S. Embassy and nibbling on scrumptious late-afternoon desserts, Sue and I talked about what makes Ottawa and Canadians different from Washington and Americans. We decided Ottawa is definitely slower, mellower, more communal, more connected to nature, more casual yet somehow more cosmopolitan, more of-the-moment, less driven, more European. Maybe part Brussels, with the sometimes-tense clash of languages and cultures. And part Oslo, with the rugged northern coziness.

Whatever it is that sets Ottawa apart, we decided we liked it.