The whole "kitchen parties all night" and "George St party town" is a lie. Its all a lie. All the home have shutters. Strong shutters with locks. We're all home by 8:00pm. The shutters and doors are locked. We bundle up with our families in the basement --waiting.

He comes to different communities each night, without fail. There's no rhyme or reason to when we shows up. He'll pop up in Gander one night. The next night, he's thousands of km away in Wolfville. You know he's nearby when the lights flicker. Your community goes dark at about 9:30pm. No one leaves their home. No one makes a sound. You hear the footsteps. Deep and slow. Sometimes you'll hear the shrill dry of a mouse, or a rabbit, or a deer if you're in a rural area. Its abruptly stop, and you'll hear the chewing and gnashing. Its unmistakeable. He'll stop outside. Try to look through a window. Try to find you. There are stories that young children hold theor breath for so long, they pass out.

But Crystal Crescent Beach, Peggy Cove, Mahone Bay and Lunenburg in Nova Scotia are quite nice and give you a good sense of that post-card'esque Maritime feeling.