In Ottawa they have the Parliament and the many-windowed, many towered building where they meet, sitting on the bluffs overlooking the river, the central tower’s patina dancing against the sky under a red and white maple leaf flapping in the breeze.
And in Ottawa they have a chateau in the center of town. It overlooks the Parliament building and the locks that raise and drop boats between the river and the canal. Today it’s a hotel where fancy people in fancy clothes congregate for fancy meetings.
And in Ottawa they have universities. And neighborhoods where real people live and work and walk on the streets and take the buses. And restaurants along the sidewalks where you might stop for pizza or sandwiches or shawarma or kabobs. And embassies where the elite really do meet to eat. And government office buildings. And bridges across the river to Quebec.
They have so many other things in Ottawa. Some which we know. Most of which we haven’t yet seen. But I want to tell you about one place where we always come and go.
In Ottawa they have an airport. You disembark from your plane and in our case, since we always seem to arrive on a regional jet, you walk up a gangway and thru twisting passageways and along silent halls and up and down long ramps until you come to the place where you find your bags. Like any airport in any city, they have this place where your luggage (usually) shows up and you grab it off the moving pieces of shiny metal.
You grab your bags, pull out the handles, walk thru a doorway where they check your papers again, walk down another hall and wait in a line to talk to the border service agents who look at your papers and make smalltalk with you about where you come from and where you are going and how often you come and what your plans might be. Those kinds of things. I am sure you know about these kinds of places in any kind of airport, and that isn’t what I wanted to tell you about.
What I wanted to tell you about is one more thing that they have in Ottawa, something you see after the border service agents let you pass.
There beyond the door. There in Canada proper. In Ottawa. There they have a vast waiting room. And in our experience, this waiting room is usually mostly empty. You walk thru that last pair of doors, your suitcases in tow, and there in the seats nearest to the door is a greeting party. Two people sitting quietly and patiently, eyes riveted on the doors waiting for you to emerge. And when you come thru the doors, they stand up smiling and give you a warm hello. They reach out to greet you. And hug you. And ask you how the flight was. And they smile some more. And they point the way to the car.
They have this kind of greeting party in Ottawa for you every time you arrive. We know. We have been there in summer and winter and spring, and they have been there and greeted us in this way every single time.
Welcome to Ottawa.