Welcome back. As you know, my work here consists in giving you a glimpse of the places I visit and making you imagine you travel to them (in your head, and sometimes if I am lucky with your heart). So here goes an image for your head: (and believe me, there is no other way to put this): Niagara Falls is Elvis. Not the young, sexy, and ground-breaking singer from the South who fought a war. No, not that one.
Yes, you guessed it. Niagara Falls is the overweight, spectacled, karate-practicing, sweaty dude of the final years. Once you see a promotion and you are near the area, I mean, come on, that dude is… still Elvis!
Who, in their right mind, would not want to see Elvis or Niagara Falls, for that matter? Once seated in the theater, you try to understand if this is one of the worst or best shows you have ever seen. And after it is finished, you wonder if you are not drooling at a burger just because it’s big.
That very same principle applies to this city.
Saturday, somewhere in April, in the year of our Lord of 2023. Work is relentless, and it’s been nonstop interpreting. And today is no different. Or it may be because this request comes from Niagara Falls. Good money, the offer is tempting, and I have never been to the Falls, so I decide to go.
I visited the majestic, impetuous, unpredictable Cataratas del Iguazu fifteen years ago, and I wanted to go to Niagara Falls to have a laugh comparing the Iguazu Falls to Niagara Falls, just because I am an intolerable human being who constantly makes comparisons, but boy, was I wrong. The falls are stunning. Small but incredible. These are the Reese Witherspoon of chutes.
Niagara Falls is an excuse for an entire city that is the inbred son of Yonge-Dundas Square, Coney Island, and Reno. Full of casinos, lights, and amusement parks, where the space for parking the children and the car will set you back $20 for a spot. And to think this wasn’t even high season. I was pondering on that while it was raining. “Hmm. Few people should be here today; only some offers can be available during the lower season”. Wrong again.
It’s like a madman, with his nose full of Atahualpa’s dandruff, started building an American city on the Canadian side. The result is a funny site in Canada, which looks like it was designed by and for 17-year-old people. Marty McFly’s Dad would totally dig this place. Nonetheless, the place is crazy: full of restaurants and international shows (an older man who vaguely resembles Tom Jones and comedians like Gabriel Iglesias and Theo Von). At some point, I felt the urge to start chewing tobacco and beat my wife. Then I remembered that I was divorced.
What struck me the most was how dated this city looks (in North American terms). They have taken good care of it, the parks are beautiful, and the city is clean, but everything around screams jets and color TV will be the new things to be invented. It’s like seeing an aging Elvis. I mean, it’s Elvis, after all. But he is also going to die in the toilet seat.
Would I go back? Absolutely. Would I visit often? Well, that depends. And sometimes, the answer is independent of me. Life surprises you sometimes.
1 If you laughed at this reference, you are a cultured person or a shameless drug addict. Go see a doctor.
