The Citiots attend the GNE

The Great Northern Exhibition is the longest running exhibition in North America. It started in 1855, and is still going strong.

Citiots like to experience the culture of their second home. Dave and I attended our first GNE, which ran from September 19th to 21st this year. We hoped that we could pass for locals. We're not sure we did.

Still, off we went, on an unseasonably warm, sunny Saturday September afternoon. Dave was looking forward to shooting the vintage tractors and cars. I wanted to see the fiddling competition. I love roots music.

When we got there, the fairground parking lot was packed. Just as we were about to hoof it to the entrance, a tractor pulling a trolley came by. How exciting! I insisted we take it, even though it would have been faster to walk.

Neither Dave nor I have been to "the Ex" in decades. For us, "the Ex" brings up connotations of the CNE - Canada's largest exhibition. The CNE holds little appeal for us. We don't like rides, parking's a pain, traffic sucks anywhere near where it's held, and we hate the crowds. The GNE is different, fresher, more wholesome, less crowded.

We start by watching some young girls in some sort of horsey competition. Quite frankly, we have no idea what the competition is called. It seems to involve taking a stick from a garbage can, doing a figure eight around a second garbage can, and dropping the stick back into garbage can number one. While we don't understand the point in all of this, we cheer and encourage the young competitors on. I like how some of the girls have colour coordinated their outfits to match their horses' saddle blankets and leggings.

From there we visit the animal exhibit. We see freshly shorn sheep, some bunnies, and some birds that I think are roosters and chickens. I can't stand looking at the birds. To me, they look like genetically altered freaks. You can't see their heads because their breasts are so big. I'm reminded of H.G. Wells' "The Island of Doctor Moreau". I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to show my ignorance of what is apparently a competition that is taken quite seriously. Upon leaving the building, I learn that some of the birds were pigeons. Whatever.

From there we head back outside, and head over to watch some cattle judging. We spot Maureen McLeod, my friend Mariane's mother. Though we make eye contact, we do not speak. Mrs. McLeod is clearly very busy with some competition related duties. We don't want to disturb her. I guess you can take the Citiot out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the Citiot. I feel bad about not saying hello, but don't know how else to handle the situation. Oh well, she'll just chalk our rudeness up to being from Toronto.

We head over to watch some of the Horse Pull. Again, I don't understand the nature of this competition. Surely it can't be good for the horses to be pulling 7800 pounds of what looks to me like Interlock, can it? Is that cruel? I'm not sure, but gamely take several pictures, and cheer the victor.

After that, it's time for something that makes more sense to me: the fiddling and step-dance competition. We arrive as a young boy is step-dancing. I whip out my digital camera and start snapping away. An old man leans over to me.

"Is that your boy?"

"Nope!" I reply, leaving it at that. I am too embarrassed to admit that I got caught up in the moment, and wanted to document the event, possibly to post on Facebook. I'm not sure he'd get me.

We admire the top rated food products, and once again my camera comes out: I've spotted Mariane's jam. She won first prize! Not far away are her mother's prize winning icicle pickles. I sigh. I'll never win a prize for anything I cook. I call my stove the "big white clock in the kitchen".

We then head back outside again, this time to look at the vintage cars and tractors. Dave is now in his element. He loves shooting this type of thing, and spends ages on the cars and tractors. Dave still shoots film, preferring its archival qualities. I am bored, and getting hungry.

We finally head over to the midway and the food area. One thing puzzles me: for a rural fair that celebrates all things related to the harvest, from planting the seeds that grow into the food that feeds the cattle, to growing the berries that become jam, and everything food-related in between, why is there NOTHING healthy to eat in the food court? The closest thing I could find to a healthy alternative was a slice of veggie pizza. And let's not even talk about how Atkins unfriendly every food option was. Once again, my attempts at induction are thwarted.

I eat my pizza slice and quaff my Diet Pepsi. They didn't even have Diet Coke! Oh well.

I've now had my fill of the exhibition, and would love to head home. But Dave wants to shoot the midway rides. Sadly, they are too modern looking for his tastes. The rides at the Drewlapalooza (the party held to honour Canadian Idol's Drew Wright, but that's another story) were more nostalgic looking than the plastic Chilly Willy found at the GNE.

We stop to watch a smidge more horse competition. We still don't understand the whole "figure eight around the garbage cans" thing, but take a few more shots.

I'm tired. It's been a hot, humid afternoon and we actually walked quite a bit. I don't feel like walking all the way back to the car. And as luck would have it, I don't have to. As we exit the fairgrounds, up comes the trolley pulling tractor again! The Citiots hop aboard.

We can't wait to do it all again next year!