The Whitest Place In America

It’s official. I think that Prince Edwards Island is The Whitest Place In America. It’s got all the makings of a Dave Chappelle skit. The place is not just white. It’s white white. Like, all white. No color. Anywhere. My tour guy Gary even has white hair and a white beard. The only color I see here is on the trees. And in the mirror.

Which would explain the long looks Sanai and I get every time we check into a new hotel. It’s not a look of disdain. The people here are exceptionally friendly. It’s more like extreme curiosity. So that’s what a black person looks likes like, eh? Well. There ya go!

I’m sure Montreal and Toronto and Quebec are much different. But on this island, (just 500,000 people on the whole piece of land!), I think Black folks are a bit of a specialty.

I actually thought about writing about the food, (sublime), and the accommodations, (awesome), and if you want to know about the Buick Lucerne, you can read about it in Upscale in a few weeks.

But what really has struck me on this trip, (as always), is the position of people of color. Two days ago, when I arrived, I woke up in the morning and saw my first black person. She was on her way into my room to clean it. I didn’t see any other black people until today. And always, they were in the shadows, in positions of servitude. In the kitchens, cooking… In the airports, sweeping.

Why does this bother me? Am I being super-sensitive? Am I being unrealistic? Should I accept that when I travel outside of the US, I am going to see that most of the people who look like me will not be doing what I am doing? Is that even true?

I feel like some people would brand me as a sensitive Negro--someone who is just looking for something to gripe about.

But I can’t help but wonder if the reason why Sanaii and I draw stares is because people are not used to seeing Black folks in a place like this, unless they are in the shadows.

(And when I say people stare, I’m talking about a fork-in-midair, mouth agape, oh-my-God-Becky-look-at-her-butt stare).

I am stepping off my soap-box now. Here are some more random facts about Canada.

There are no squirrels, deer, or other random land animals you'd expect to see on the island of Newfoundland. It’s an island. The animals were never brought there so they just don’t exist. The moose on the island are the descendants of moose that swam the or walked across the ice hundreds of years ago. My dinner companion and his wife told me this fun fact.

Tim Horton’s coffee is not half-bad. I had my first cup today. Tastes like Dunkin Donuts.

The seafood here is damn good. Okay, that was kind of obvious. I’m in Canada. On an island. Of course it would be good, right? I had lunch at a farmhouse. The woman plopped a huge, 1.5 pound lobster on my plate, gave me a bib and those things you use to crack the shell and told me to get to work. I like lobster. But it felt very primal and archaic to crack the shell of an animal and eat its meat. I’m not a vegetarian. But I think it’s time to give it some thought. Lobster season ended here a few weeks ago. So the lobster I ate was kept alive on a lobster farm until he met his fate on my plate. This makes me sad. If I can subsist without killing an animal, shouldn’t I do so? My jury is still out on this one.

So. On this trip, we’re urged to visit certain landmarks along the way to the next meal or overnight rest stop. Sanaii and I have learned that the people around here take their lighthouses very seriously. Our itinerary is filled with lighthouses. We went to one, (see picture), and climbed to the very top to see the view. Very quaint. Very New England. And after I climbed down, I pretty much knew I never needed to see the inside of another lighthouse for as long as I lived.

Although our guides have urged us to visit lighthouses all over Prince Edwards Island, we’ve filled our days with our own favorite pastime—eating. Chowder. Biscuits. Lobster. Strawberry Pie. Cheesecake. Did I mention most hotels serve warm cookies at all times?!

As with every business trip I take. I stand to gain at least ten pounds before I return home. Blame Canada!