Another day in Canada. Forgot which one.

It’s a long haul. I wrote this before. And right, we’re still on that Greyhound bus on its way from Toronto to Thunder Bay. As impossible as it seems to sleep on the coach, after 20 hours awake it will inevitably happen. So it did to me. Somewhere between Wawa and Nipigon. Woke up right in time to see the sun rise and get ready for the last coffee break before Thunder Bay. Stunning landscape reminding me a lot of Finland. A bit of Kuopio to Joensuu in here. Makes a lot of sense so many Fins settled in this area. No need to adjust on new, unknown landscape or climate. All good here, it’s pretty much like where we came from. Let’s stay. In general it seems people are not too unhappy to live their lives around here. Buying a cuppa on our last stop the guy behind the counter asks if I’ve got some kind of bonus card. And no, haven’t got one. “You can have one, they’re valid in all our gas stations across Canada.” “Thanks, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense, I don’t live in Canada.” “Oh man, that sucks, eh?” I’m not sure it does. There are possibly some few places apart from Nipigon with it’s -19°C I’d actually prefer for a permanent residency.

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And then there is Thunder Bay, Ontario. Finally. And yessir, we’re still in the province of Ontario, Canada. With its Greyhound stop strategically perfectly located 3.5 km from tonight’s venue. As you might have figured out following this blog this means “very close to“ or “almost in the centre of town“ in terms of local geographical understanding. In theory there’d be public transport into town, in fact waiting for a bloody bus til fuck knows when in minus ten is nothing you want to do after 22 h on a bus. Let alone possibly not being taken for not having the right change for the ticket or whatever else there could go wrong. My first taxi ride in Thunder Bay turns out a full on success. Whilst watching the desolate beauty of Thunder Bay’s industrial areas glide by I get a crash course in the town’s history and am pointed on to the most important sights. The one thing I remember is, it’s apparently the place where Terry Fox stopped running. Good idea. Would have been a bit to go from here. To any destination. Sorry, dear Canadians, I’m disrespectful here. What my tourist guide didn’t mention is the big Finnish community in this town located pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Being very early for the show there is time enough to do a little research on this. And yes, they’ve got it all here. Karjalan Piirakka, Pulla, Pepsodent, Salmiakki. Had a coffee at Hoito, the cafe/restaurant of the Finnish culture centre, located in the old „Finnish Labour Temple“. Sweet. Bought a copy of the Finnish-Canadian newspaper “Kanadan Sanomat“. Good read — interesting things in there like “Finnish alcohol sells well abroad“. Who’d have thought.
Enjoyed the show at The Apollo in Thunder Bay on that quiet Tuesday night a lot. Sheila & Alex being wonderful hosts (thanks again for having me, feeding me, putting me up and all…) it turned out a fun evening with an exclusive audience. Bet you know what I mean. Handnumbered so to say. And most of them spoke Finnish. In fact, I think the main reason for them to turn up was the cinema billboard on top of The Apollo’s entry reading “Makkela“. Some nice chats after the show learning more about the Fins who came here beginning of the 20th century to settle down on the banks of the great lakes from here down to Duluth, Minnesota. A heartwarming evening in that cold little town on the edge of Ontario. I’ll be back. I suppose I have to. In fact, I want to. Still, my Thunder Bay moment was yet to happen the following morning. Started a chat with the not very talkative cab driver who took me to the Greyhound station. A great guy it turned out once he realized he could chat with me in Finnish. And in a way a very Finnish story. Left his home near Kauhava in the early eighties to start a new, better life out here and — as it goes so often — failed. Now stuck here driving a cab trying to save enough money to make it back to Finland. Felt like the right thing to give him a copy of my last album. Catch up next time Harri, if you’re still there.

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Thunder Bay Greyhound station. Oh my. Been there? It’s the place where excitement starts. I have to admit I was pushing my luck here.
The Mayor in Winnipeg — no, that’s how the call him, he’s not the mayor of Winnipeg — set the show for 7.30/8.00pm the very night. According to Greyhound’s timetable I’m supposed to make it to Winnipeg by 6.45 pm. Fair enough, should work. That’s what I thought. Of course, it didn’t. I was on time. The bus was on time. Just the hydraulic ramp for the wheelchair refused to do what it was designed for. Which is lifting a wheelchair onto the vehicle. One hour after our scheduled departure time Greyhound staff is still trying to fix the thing whilst yours humbly starts getting kind of nervous. And no, things aren’t improving. Two hours later still here, a smiling driver submitting updates on our status quo. Another thirty minutes later we’re finally leaving Thunder Bay. It was a joyful and glorious moment when the Greyhound guys cheerfully announced it was nothing really big – just a fuse. Thank god. If a fuse means three hours, I suppose a spark plug would have cost us a week. This doesn’t look too promising. I can see my Winnipeg show slowly disintegrate with every extra minute of waiting. Message to Mayor Matt: “This will be a late one I’m afraid. You still up for having the show?“ “Yeah, sure. We’ll start later. Jaxon Haldane 9ish then you. Should work. We’ll save 30 minutes if you get off one stop before Winnipeg.“
Today’s driver seems to be a nice person even though he has to deal with multiple issues just now. He doesn’t know how to work the bloody ramp (which has been fixed, but by some other personnel) and there is me making things even more complicated. “Excuse me sir, would you mind dropping me one stop before Winnipeg?“ “Sure, no problem. Just come to the front once we’re near.“ That was just too easy.
We’re still running late, starting the show by nine is wishful thinking by now, I haven’t got a clue where we are except of being approximately 40 minute away from Winnipeg. Walking up the aisle towards our pilot. “Is this the place or are we close to where you can drop me off? You remember?“ “Sorry man, I can’t drop you off here. This is a motorway. I’m not allowed to stop here or drop anyone off. I don’t know where you want to get off.“
Situation is not improving with me calling Mayor Matt, listening to his instructions on one ear, trying to understand what the driver is trying to explain on the other, all blurred by the powerful sound of a Greyhound engine. Confusion. Despair. A crossroad with traffic lights. Not too far from a Petro-Can and a Subway. I’m finally dumped without the slightest clue of my whereabouts. Ah, that’s Matt calling. Good. “Where are you now?“ Erm… next to a Petro-Can. And a Subway. Oh, and a crossroad with traffic lights. Good luck.
I still don’t know how he did it, but he found me. He turned up. 9.30 pm. It’s a miracle. Apparently there is still going to be a show. We’re shooting towards his house and my first show in Winnipeg. But listen up now, here is what made Mayor Matt immortal in the house of Mäkkelä.
Once in the car he passes me a thermos mug and a can of cold IPA. „Thought you’d need this now. Just make sure you first pour it in the thermos. You’re not allowed having a beer in the car in Manitoba.“ What a guy. Impossible to play a bad show after a trip like this. Just a pity I couldn’t see Jaxon Haldane perform.