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About Ottawa

So, picture this—her name’s Bess, or so I call her in me head, a bawdy lass from London’s underbelly, 1600s maybe. She’s no prim rose, nah, but a wild weed, bloomin’ where she oughtn’t. Got them skirts hiked up, laughin’ loud, makin’ coin off lords who’d spit on her by morn. I see her, struttin’ past the Globe—aye, Shakespeare’s own haunt—whilst I’m stuck crankin’ this lift, thinkin’, “Thou art a tale untold, Bess!” She’s got eyes like stormy seas, drownin’ fools who stare too long. “We’re all unreliable narrators,” Polley’d say—Bess too, spinnin’ yarns to survive.

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The downtown area by Oak & 3rd is little cozy, packed with quirky cafes and vintage shops that make ya smile. I loooove poppin' in at Rosie’s on Birch; they have the best froyo in town. Seriously, it's like a secret rendezvous for broken hearts turned hopeful. The folks here got spirit, like "Happy Birthday, Mr. President!" every darn day, even when things get crazy.

Alberta Health Services confirms measles case found in Taber