Why anyone in their right mind would be willing to give up their precious weekend time with the kids and a good book, fly half way around the world to freeze their ass off visiting Huntsville at the coldest time of the year is beyond me.  But rather than get my speculative account, the Online's Japanese correspondent has sent me a report filed for the supplement to the Yokohama Daily Express.  That paper's reporter was on the junket.  My Japanese is a bit rusty but here is the translation.

My Weekend at the Edge of the Earth - by: Hero Ito

In June elected heads of eight countries might show up for dinner at a hotel in Canada before they go to Toronto for a quick G20 meeting.  This whisk in/whisk out will still be called a G8, if they can spit the words out quickly enough as the parade goes by. 

How did this happen?  Well, in Pittsburgh last fall at the G20 meeting, the Canadian Prime Minister must have been a bit tipsy when he bellowed out, "Hey guys,  I love you man.  The drinks are on me.  I want you all to come to Canada.  We'll have a great time. You're all my best buddies."  In the process he screwed up the whole G8 -20 business.

In a valiant effort to drum up some publicity, I and 11 other journalists were begged to come to a place called Muskoka.  I think Muskoka is the name of the rodent they have as a national symbol but I could be mistaken. 

I had heard Canada was cold and packed my warmest clothes but this trip only reinforced the image of this land as a frozen wilderness to be avoided.  We stayed at the resort where the boys and girl will dine and surprisingly had very nice accommodations.  I took full advantage of the mini bar to warm up and enjoyed the soft porn on the TV.  They import a lot from the United States even this form of entertainment.  And those American girls?  They must have listened to their mummies and drank lots of milk when they were young because they now have huge chests.

 

The food was good at the hotel and they took good care of us but we had to pay for it by being bored silly with the required tours.  For example, we were bussed for an hour out into the barrens to a spot at the side of a two lane highway.  We were made to get out and I admit to being quite nervous.  Perhaps, like in the movies, we were all going to be shot.  But no, we were only made to look.  Look at nothing but trees covered with snow.  Fir trees and wilderness as far as the eye could see.  No wildlife, not even a lone cabin . . . nothing but the bleakness of winter only broken up by a few vast flat fields of snow.  They told us these blankets hid lakes underneath.  They assured us it was quite beautiful in the summer but we were too frozen to do anything but want to get back to the mini bar and TV.  They called this spot Al Gonkin's Park or something like that and were quite proud of it.  What the purpose of this bus ride was, is still a unclear. 

Later that day we went to a town south of Deerhurst where we were shown a place called Bethune House.  This guy Bethune evidently meant something to the Chinese but was an enigma to the rest of us. What was up with that and how does it connect with world issues?

Then there was the visit to a town called Huntsburg, quite near the resort.  Everywhere we went this man in a hockey shirt with Clement on the back kept showing up and making funding announcements.  After awhile it got really annoying. 

For some reason they took us on a tour of a couple of buildings as if we had never seen anything under construction before.  One is going to be a dorm for some Canadian university kids and the other a hockey arena.  They tried to tell us these were G8 buildings and that is why we were made to visit them but when someone asked the hockey shirt man what was the connection to the G8 and how they were going to be used, he somehow snuck into one of the dressing rooms and hid.

We were invited to attend a civic function where a guy called Claudius was piped into the room and went on about a pow-wow they were hosting at G whatever time.  He got all excited about some flag poles and a thing called a pergola.  But then I was distracted by a not unattractive woman councillor who must have had Turrets.  She kept wandering aimlessly about the room like a crazy person repeating, "It's Unity Plan. It's called the Unity Plan.  UNITY.  Get it right."  The ever present hockey shirt guy was there all dressed up in a suit.  But, oh my god, those up-north winter boots again. Yikes. 

I got to meet some of the locals who would be serving dinner to those eight world leaders and be making the beds if they decide to stay overnight.  They all hoped that lots of people would be coming to Muskoka to witness the parade go by so they could sell them something.  Nice people but perhaps sold a dream that may not happen.

 

Finally at the hotel I have to tell you about these men-children who were there on a hockey convention recapturing their youth and drinking a lot of beer. They told me all about shinny but that put me in mind of skinny and I headed back to the room.

I'll be coming to Canada when it thaws out in June for the G20 but I won't be returning to Muskoka.  I'm going to hole up in Toronto.  They tell me the mini bars are better stocked and the TV offerings are superb.

David Harris is the editor and publisher of the Huntsville Online.