This weekend Girlfriend and I went to Ottawa. The idea was to spend the night there and then see some sights in the morning.

Snow was falling and I had to use the wipers to get the snow off the windscreen. We made it to Ottawa and to the hotel. The corridor from the underground car park resembled a Mexican prison:

But the hotel room was amazing. There was a kitchen about five times larger than our kitchen at home. The mattress on the bed was about a foot high. There was a computer, a printer, two large television sets, and a balcony. There were four rooms in total, and perhaps there were even more rooms that I hadn't found yet.

The TV was difficult to set up. I didn’t want to watch TV so I don’t even know why I was trying to set it up. When I finally got the TV working, inane chatter instantly started coming out of it. Annoying adverts and pointless drivel. I hate TV.

Then a program about the Canadian border control came on. There was a man who got in trouble at the Canadian border because officials found bestial drawings on his computer. Drawings of people fucking animals (or animals fucking people; the program never went into detail about the pictures). We laughed at him until the TV froze. Grrr.

We set out for an evening stroll. My hands began to feel uncomfortably cold. I was wearing leather gloves but they somehow made my hands colder, not warmer. As we walked down the street, I noticed that the street signs were a curious mix of French and English. For example, one street sign said “Rue Andre Street” which translates to “Street Andrew Street”. There was even one street sign that said, “Av Park Av” (Avenue Park Avenue).

We glimpsed the Rideau canal, a 200-km canal that connects Ottawa with the Saint Lawrence River. The canal was frozen over. I saw one skater, then two, and I said, “Hey look, two skaters!” And then I saw two more. And as we kept walking across the bridge, the view unfolded: the canal was very long and there were dozens of skaters on it.

“This is amazing!” I said. “You could even get to work by skating along the canal!”

We saw two people walking on the canal, so we decided to go down and walk on it too. The ice wasn’t slippery because there was snow laying on top of it. But thanks to movies, I imagined the ice cracking under my feet and Girlfriend and me falling into the icy water.

So we walked off the canal and back onto the road, which was safer. We found ByWard Market, another one of Ottawa’s famous sites. There were rows of lights and it looked pretty.

We ate at a mussels restaurant. When we left the restaurant, the air was even colder. We were planning to go to Parliament Hill next (the Canadian equivalent of the Palace of Westminster) but I said, “Can we just go back to the hotel?” So, we headed back to the hotel.

But we came across Parliament Hill anyway. It had a formidable clock tower that looked like Big 9-year-old. It was shrouded in snow and lit from above. It reminded me of the scene in Peter Pan where the kids are flying around the Houses of Parliament. Impressive.

As we walked back to the hotel, I was in high spirits, mainly thanks to the wine. We finally got back to the hotel room. It was nice to get back. The bed was thick and comfy and the duvet was white like a cloud. We went to sleep.

The next morning, we ate breakfast in a small room with large windows on the third floor. There was bacon, eggs, bread, cheese, cereals, more bread, muffins, apples, tea, coffee, and juice. But I’m on a gluten and dairy-free diet so all I could eat was fruit. So I had three plates of fruit.

One woman pointed to some fruit and asked the server, "Do you serve this every day?"

The server proudly said, "Yes, and I chop it all myself every morning."

"Wow," said the American, clearly in awe. "And what about these croissants? What flour are they made from?"

"I believe they're made from wheat flour."

"And what about these?"

Her questions went on like this for ages. She must have been an American because only Americans ask so many questions.

We took some fruit and two fun-sized packets of Frosted Flakes up to our room because you have to steal things when you go to a hotel. It's the way hotels work.

"I'm going to steal this pillow," I said.

"You can't take a pillow," said Girlfriend. "It's too big. Fun-sized packets of cereal are okay to steal, but not pillows."

"But it's so soft," I said.

"Someone's going to see you," she said.

“No they won't," I said. "I’ll take it straight to the car."

“It's best if you leave it,” Girlfriend said.

So that's how I got a new pillow. We went down to the hotel’s car park, with my new pillow stuffed into a Dollarama carrier bag. I stuck our belongings inside the car, along with the pillow.

We drove to Parliament Hill and parked nearby. Then we started walking towards ByWard Market again. Last night it had looked nice as there had been pretty lights. But today was a Sunday and all the shops were closed. We walked up to a government building and I went inside because I was cold.

Inside, a guard said, "Puis-je vous aider?"

“Is this open?” I said.

“I can't hear you,” he said.

“Is this open?”

“What? I can't understand you.” The guard got up from his desk. He was like a policeman, official, with a uniform. Probably he had a gun too I imagine.

I said again, “Is this building open today?”

Finally, he understood me. “You can't look around here. You should go to Parliament Hill.”

I said, “Oh, right, okay, sorry. I guess I got the wrong building. Thank you!” and left.

I saw Girlfriend outside, waiting for me. "It's the wrong building," I said to her.

“I know!" she said.

"Why didn't you say anything then?"

"Because you went in before I could stop you!” she said.

Fair enough.

We walked up to Parliament Hill again. In the daylight, it looked like something out of Harry Potter. Outside the building was a field of untrodden snow. Girlfriend made me pose for pictures.

"Smile!" she said.

"I am smiling!"

My hands were cold. Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, COLD, COLD, COLD!

Outside the building was a fire. The Canadian Parliament wasn't on fire, fortunately. It was just a small fire in front of the buildings for tourists to warm their hands on.

But when I tried warming my hands on the fire, it didn't work. My hands were that cold that the fire had no effect on them.

“I need gloves,” I said to Girlfriend.

“You have gloves,” she said.

“I need better gloves. These gloves are just making my hands colder.”

We went to the Parliament building. A sign said FREE TOUR, so we went inside. If something says 'free' then we didn't need to be told twice.

We saw the rooms where the parliament is held. We saw the room for the judges. I kept looking for the Prime Minister so I could apologise for nearly shooting his only son with a firework a couple of years earlier, but he never showed up. The politicians all had the day off or something. I thought Canadians were hardworking? They can't be that hardworking if all the politicians just take a day off whenever they feel like it. Then again, maybe it was because today was Saturday.

I liked the idea that if you came on another day, you might get to see the Prime Minister giving a speech, or the MPs voting on a bill; something important like that. The place makes you think: Canada has been a democracy for over a hundred years, every adult citizen has the right to vote, and yet they still can't solve a basic problem like why my hands are so bloody cold.

There were seats reserved for Queen Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh but I don't think they came very often. And on either side of these seats were tiny seats for the Queen’s and Duke’s helpers. Compared to the Queen and King's seats, these seats looked like they were for Oompah Loompahs.

After the tour, we walked around outside aimlessly. It turns out there's not a lot to do in Ottawa. Even though Ottawa is the capital of Canada, more people live in Toronto, for example. In fact, less than 1 million people live in Ottawa whereas 3 million people live in Toronto. Ottawa is a token capital, a city some people once arbitrarily decided would be the capital, like Washington DC and Canberra.

Also, my hands were getting cold again.

Some holidays you enjoy, and some holidays you can only enjoy several years later when you are wearing a pair of rose-tinted glasses. Or a pair of gloves. It was minus ten degrees Celcius and my hands were numb by this point. I kept checking that all my fingers were still attached.

Girlfriend was walking around aimlessly and I was following her. “Are we going anywhere in particular?” I asked her. “My hands are cold.”

"I was following you," she said.

I sighed in exasperation. "How about this then," I said. "Right now we do what I want to do, and then afterwards we can do what you want to do.”

So I dived into the first pub I saw. It was an Irish pub and it was warm inside. We sat next to the window in the sunlight. And by god, it felt nice. The warmth and sunlight felt like summer. Irish music was playing. Maybe it was just the relief of being warm again, but I loved that Irish music. The sense of comradery, belonging, and acceptance, of happiness despite hardship and depression.

We couldn’t stay there all day, though I would have tried to. So eventually we left, back into the cold air. There were sights to see and fingers to lose.

I had the idea of renting some skates and skating on the Rideau canal. It's one of those opportunities that only come once in a lifetime: skating on a frozen river. We had to do it.

"That's $34," said the woman at the skate rental office.

$34? To rent two pairs of skates for two hours? You can a pair of skates for that.

Girlfriend shot me a look that said, "This is too expensive". But I handed over the money to the woman and she gave me two pairs of skates.

There were no lockers to put our shoes, so we had to stuff our shoes into shelves which were already crammed with other people’s shoes. I hoped no one was going to steal my shoes, because then I'd have to go shoeless and I might lose toes to the cold as well.

We went out onto the canal and started skating. But something was wrong. My feet were in an upside-down V shape. My feet should be straight, not bent. I practically had to walk, dragging my skates along the ice.

Here we were, skating on a giant frozen river in Canada's capital, a scene easily from a postcard, and all I could think was: my hands are cold.

We had to keep going into these little huts so I could rewarm my hands, like refilling gas at a petrol station.

I wasn't used to ice skating and I kept falling over. And that ice was hard. It was harder than normal ice, I tell you.

After I fell over for the fifth time, I was picking myself up when I heard a little voice say, “Hi, my name’s Anabel. What's your name?”

I turned to see a little girl standing next to me. She must have been about six, I guess.

Her dad said, “Come on now, Anabel” in a patient but weary tone, as if this wasn't the first time Anabel had struck up a conversation with a stranger.

But Anabel took absolutely no notice of her dad. Instead, she repeated, “Hi, my name’s Anabel. What's your name?” She said the words in exactly the same way as the first time, without any change in tone. It was eerie. Like a talking doll.

“My name's Paul,” I said.

I put out my hand. And she shook it.

"Come on," said her father again. Without a word, smile, or wave, Anabel turned and skated off with her dad. I watched them skate away across the river.

I fell over a few more times but Anabel didn't appear after each fall. I was disappointed. I thought she'd pop up each time and say something else. "I like blue. What's your favourite colour?" "I'm six, How old are you?" The world needs more Anabels. I wouldn't mind having a kid if she was like Anabel.

Afterwards, while taking my skates off, I watched a guy expertly putting on his own skates. He was being really careful to tighten them. Every time he put his laces through a new set of holes he pulled the laces tight, really tight. Then he saw me watching him and he looked uncomfortable. I tried using my eyes to say “Thank you, now I know what to do.” He didn't understand me though. He probably thought I was coming on to him.

After ice-skating, we walked back to the car. My hands were freezing. I really couldn't feel my fingers anymore. Maybe I didn't even have fingers anymore. It had been a few minutes since I had last checked.

So Girlfriend let me borrow her gloves. After five minutes without her gloves, her hands got uncomfortable and she said, "How have you been able to go without gloves the whole day? Today you're my hero."

I was stunned. No one had ever called me a hero before.

We got in the car. I turned on the car’s heating system. Cold air immediately blew into my face. It was like being hit by the breath of a yeti.

But once we had the engine on though, the air started to warm up.

As we drove back home, the air in the car slowly grew warm. The cold gradually left my fingers but it took about half an hour for the cold to leave my fingers completely. My left index finger was the last to unfreeze. There was still cold after the rest of my fingers had warmed up. Girlfriend held onto it to warm it up. Her touch was painful, but it worked: warmth came back to it, like magic.

"My hands are better!" I cried. It was incredible. My hands were back to normal again. There was no lasting damage. I wouldn't need emergency finger amputation due to severe frostbite after all.

As we were driving back to Montreal, Girlfriend and were talking about children. For reasons, I don't remember now, Girlfriend asked me to do an impression of a woman giving birth.

So I breathed in as deep as I could and went, "HUURRRRRR," like a woman in labour pain. "HUURRRRRRRRRRR." Girlfriend laughed.

But as I strained to push a pretend baby out of my vagina, something weird happened: I felt like I was about to faint.

Maybe it was the fact that all I'd eaten that day had been some fruit. More likely it was pressure on my head from pretending to push out a baby and the fact I was holding my breath as I did this.

Whatever it was, fainting at the steering wheel of a moving car is not ideal. So I didn't tell Girlfriend because I didn't want to scare her. Instead I focused on the lights ahead of me and tried to stay conscious. I knew if I lost conciousness the car would probably end up rolling off the side of the road and into a ditch, because if we crashed, our bodies might get horribly mangled. and, for the other more important reason, the car was a rental.

By breathing carefully, I managed to stay concious while keeping the car on the road. Girlfriend didn't notice anything.

Anyway, if you go to Ottawa in the winter, then bring gloves.