When I learned we’d be going from the palatial Fairmont Laurier to a nearby hostel, it wasn’t just the change in the quality of the accommodations that bothered me. I’m no snob – I don’t require incredibly comfortable high-thread count sheets, gourmet dining, and princely service 24-7 (really!), and I’m normally quite happy to bunk with other bloggers (they’re a fun crowd). No, what bothered me was that our hostel was featured on The Haunted Walk ghost tour through downtown Ottawa we’d be taking that night.
I don’t like ghosts.
I’ve seen them before. And I don’t like them.
The last time I saw a ghost, my husband and I were in a condo rental on Kauai’s North Shore and I woke up in the middle of the night to see a the hazy form of an overweight, balding tourist in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts staring down at me – for 60 seconds straight – before dissolving into thin air. Sure, it’s funny now, but I didn’t sleep for the rest of the trip. I’ve heard that every time you see a ghost, your odds of seeing another ghost go up exponentially, so I take news of hauntings more seriously than most. (Here is our truly awesome Ghost-guide telling us the history of downtown Ottawa in front of the Fairmont Laurier)
Not only was our hostel the last featured stop of the Ottawa ghost tour – it was also a 150 year old prison. Amenities include a gallows off the hallway, complete with noose and trap door. Guests get to sleep inside real jail cells. On the bright side, the music venue in the hostel’s courtyard is a very happening scene.
Incidentally – see that little light orb down at the bottom of the picture? Some would say that is evidence of a spirit. I was taking snapshots like a madwoman around this place – my makeshift litmus test for spirits. Hey, my mama don’t watch Ghost Hunters for nothing!
The story of Ottawa’s Haunted Hostel goes something like this: From 1862 to 1972, the Carleton County Jail was a maximum security prison with tiny cells, fatally disgusting living conditions, and public executions. Most people died of disease though, if that makes you feel any better. Then again, most of those people were buried in the yard – which didn’t make me feel better at all.
The ghost said to haunt the place is that of Patrick James Whelan, hanged in 1869 for assassinating a politician. Pat wanted to be buried in Montreal in the family plot, but assassins can’t be choosers and he was planted out back with the rest of the miscreants. Story goes – he’s not happy about it.
Now, here’s the fun part that kept me awake all night: the ghost tends to be seen at the foot of guests’ beds. There’s also the standard sounds of footsteps, knocking, and high school girls on school trips to the capital (terrifying, I assure you).
Strange things happen to your mind over the course of a night, while you’re willing drooping eyelids to stay open and trying not to move on a squeaky top bunk (to avoid disturbing 3 fellow bloggers who were sound asleep). Sometime around 3 a.m. I think I began to hallucinate, and as I glared into the dark prison cell, I thought I saw the hazy outline of a man’s head standing at the edge of my bunk bed. My heart began thudding and I stared that much harder into the black, willing the shape I saw to be some trick of the light.
Slowly, the head turned into a door frame and the shoulders melted into a jacket on the coat rack. While I was safely convinced that what I saw was an optical illusion, I still didn’t get a wink of sleep, and dawn couldn’t come soon enough.
If you aren’t deathly afraid of ghosts like I am, the Ottawa Hostel is pretty cool. But for my money, I’ll take the Fairmont Laurier. It’s not haunted. I checked.
No recipes today folks, but I will say that after that haunted hostel, I was craving some comfort food and a stiff drink. I highly recommend The Shore Club, Murray Street, or Play for all of those things.
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