Soapstones, antlers, the backbones of whales, Narwhale tusks are the palette of so much art of the Northern first nations. We've long celebrated the art of the Haida and their Western cousins and from totem poles to paintings, it is stunning.
But it's really only in the last 50 years that Canadians and their Southern brothers have been able to see and begin to understand the beauty of the art of the Innu in the Arctic.
The first real exhibit that any of us saw was in the Toronto Dominion Tower, off Bay Street in Toronto, and the brilliance of that collection carefully assembled over the course of 1965-1967 opened a window on the wonderful variety of carvings and drawings that reflected the soul of our North.
Today, pieces of Inuit art from Cape Dorset and other northern stations are featured not only in Museum Collections but especially in First Nations displays in southwestern United States.
The Toronto collection remains the most comprehensive and is beautifully displayed in a mezzanine gallery in the TD Centre. This Gallery is a co-operative project of the owners of the Cadillac Fairview Ltd. and TD Bank Group. Open for all to admire, without any fee. It is truly a hidden gem in Toronto.
Location: Toronto-Dominion Centre
79 Wellington Street West
Tel: 416 982 8473
Monday to Friday: 8:00 am to 6:00 pm
Saturday and Sunday: 10:00 am to 4:00 pm
30 Yonge Street
For Canadians, there is only one game that counts. When our national team wins, our country is in triumph. When it loses, they're bereaved.
Phil Esposito who captained our team in 1972 and led the defeat of the ignominious Russians is a hero celebrated more than any prime minister or military leader.
The great names of hockey in the corner of Yonge and Front in downtown Toronto.
On any given day, streams of people all dressed in the hockey shirts of their favourite teams wait in awed silence in anticipation of the epiphany of entrance.
Inside, the pictures of heroes adorn the walls, sticks, pucks and uniforms of the great are niched as in a cathedral.
On occasion, the holy tabernacle, the Stanley Cup, is displayed adorned with the names of the winning teams over the decades and all the players. Hockey is not just our national sport. It is the definition of our country and with missionary zeal, we take pride in its spread to Europe and our southern neighbour.
We don't dye our beards green after a visit to the Hall of Fame but the memento purchased in the store next door is a lifelong treasure to be handed down to future generations.
Paul Henderson leaping in triumph after scoring the winning goal to beat Russia and reclaim hockey as the game of our nation.
"The Next Shift is Ours." The faces of anticipation cast in bronze in front of the Hockey Hall of Fame.
The story of Coronado Island focuses on the monster hotel, its history and the endless traffic of celebrities, wannabes, and honeybees that traffic its wooden decks. But there's more to Coronado than just a Pacific Scott Fitzgerald fantasy and a hot dog wafted Down ton Abbey.
The community is the retirement colony for the admirals and officer corp of the American Pacific fleet. Streets memorialize great battles. Roadside portraits celebrate yesterday's heroes. Fleeced admirals strut in coveys like demobilized quails while those of lesser rank gaze on. It is mandated that every house must be different from its neighbours so the impression is left that there's an endless search for the ideal design. With each pink Tudor or bright yellow Adobe, evidence of the continued failure of design sand imagination. But then, who cares? It's really all about the hotel.
The bridge to Coronado Island creates a spectacular entrance. Going back to San Diego via the southern beach route is equally interesting as you get a peek at how the american navy lives when it's out of the ship.
You don't have to stay in the hotel to enjoy much of what it offers. You can come for the day, enjoy the beach and have a decent if not great lunch in the hotel's restaurant. There are beautifully curated stores to engage you for hours before lunch of you're not a beach person. As you pay your lunch bill, have your parking validated so it's free and you have a day to talk about with friends. How's that for value?
Founded on July 16, 1769 by the Franciscan fathers, Fr. Junipero Serra, Juan Viscaino and Fernando Parron, this mother of California missions was first located in the Presidio Hill but was moved here in 1774.
Established in 1968, the Old Town San Diego Historic Park commemorates what San Diego was from 1820-1870.
Still standing are some historic buildings including the first courthouse, hotel, cantinas, houses, and general store.
This was the heart of San Diego until the 1860s when development was started close to where shipping took place so this place became an interesting neighbourhood but no longer the centre of the city.
There are no cars and the pace inside the Old Town is probably much more relaxed than it was in the 19th century when the gold miners and fishers made their living by converting energy into dollars. It's now a place to sit, have a beer, squint your eyes just a bit and let the shadows and smells of a gone by era flood over you. It is a delight.
Address: 4002 Wallace St, San Diego, CA 92110