Hair-raising Entertainment

The blue light and the smoke casts an eerie air to the Tattoo in Halifax.

Gerald and his wife Ellie sat on the concrete steps outside Halifax's Metro Center, awaiting the opening of the doors for the International Tattoo. (A tattoo is defined as a signal on a drum, bugle, or trumpet at night, for soldiers or sailors to go to their quarters. But it is much, much more than that. More about it later.) We joined them after a pretty good dinner at Maxwell's Plum bar where we enjoyed fish and chips.

Gerald and Ellie are natives of Newfoundland, where we head in another week. They love their island, even though they no longer live there. Their children are scattered to the world: Alberta, Australia, as well as Nova Scotia. So they have come off the island after Gerald worked at the pulp wood mill for many years. “It was a good living,” he said. “Mostly because of the union.” He said he made newsprint for the Daily Mail in Britain, as well as The New York Times and the Washington Post … “and that newspaper down in New Orleans with the funny name; what is that name?” he asked. I suggested The Times-Picayune. “That's it,” he said with the smile. “I can't tell you how many times I slapped a label on a roll of newsprint for the Times Picayune.”

He waxed eloquent about the good old days on Newfoundland when the villages were isolated – with few roads - and only had oil lamps. “People would choose their village when they came on the island depending on where they came from in Scotland or England or Ireland,” he said. “There was a bad class system back then, though,” he said. He's not a big fan on the English. “The manager of the pulp mill, an Englishman, expected us to stand when he entered the room for a meeting,” he said. He and the other managers were above themselves, he said, but that is pretty much gone now.

Gerald's father was a fisherman. He would get the two boys up at 3 in the morning, Gerald said, and they would launch the boat for fishing the cod before anyone else in the village. “It was a point of honor,” Gerald said. In those early days, they would throw back the crab or the flounder they caught in their nets. They were worthless, from his father's point of view.

He and Ellie said the island is doing well financially now, despite the demise of the pulp wood mill. “We have the oil off the east coast of Newfoundland now,” he said. Now the biggest worry is keeping the icebergs away from the oil platforms. He said men will attach the cables to the bergs and try to pull them clear. Otherwise, the platforms have to be moved.

The doors of the Metro Center opened and we left the old couple who were joined by two of their grandchildren from Australia who were visiting for the summer.

Inside, we settled in for a night of music and dance as 1,700 performers from all over the world – Estonian, Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Denmark, the U.S., as well as countless bands and an excellent 150-voice choir from Canada – entertained us for 2.5 hours.

My experience with military tattoos circles around the spectacular one on the esplanade in front of Edinburgh Castle in Scotland. This was a gentler, less militaristic affair – more in keeping with the quieter, less macho character of Canada. This is not to say it wasn't exciting. The massed pipes and drums, as well as brass bands made the hairs on our arms stand straight up. But there was a more youthful element – tumblers from Denmark, brilliant cyclists from Germany, as well as twirling young people on hoops.

But what lives on is the spectacular finale, when the floor of the hall was filled with all the performers. Because we had chosen July 4 – America's Independence Day – for our visit, and because the U.S. Consul General for Nova Scotia was present, the U.S. National Anthem, sung and played in unison by so many performers was a sound to bring tears to your eye. And that was topped quite easily when they morphed into “Oh Canada” an anthem that is easy to sing and is exquisitely moving.

Then the lone highland piper took up his lonely call (the very definition of “tattoo”) from the highest point in the arena. Amazing Grace was just that. His pipes stood alone, but then the melody was picked up by the other massed pipes, followed by the choir. Memorable.

We returned to our campground in thick, wooly fog. But we were warmed inside by the spectacular event.

Now we have edged along the eastern shore of Nova Scotia. This is an unpopulated land. We are only an hour east of Halifax, but there is little but woods and water. As we sit in our new campground, we can hear the plaintive call of the loons on the lake. This is heaven.