Ottawa—Canada’s Capital

Youth Hostel Ottawa Jail July ’77 In Ottawa I found a youth hostel that was a converted jail. According to the brochure, the gray stone structure had a capacity for 150 prisoners, many of whom were kept in cramped and dingy cells that measured only four by nine feet. That's about right. I had my own cell, just two beds down from the hanging gallery. The last man hung was in 1945, a cop killer I guess. The jail itself was condemned back in '72 and, after restoration, reopened as a youth hostel. I walked into the hanging gallery, a small windowless room with a very high ceiling only once. Except for the hanging gallery, the jail was a pretty neat place. Actually, Ottawa was (as cities go) pretty neat itself. It had beautiful architecture, was clean, and every night at the Parliament building there was a free outdoor concert. On my first night in town, I went with another hosteller, Riley, to a concert. He was staying a couple jail cells down from me. On the way to the concert, we picked up a friend of his, Jim. The concert was nice. It featured a French singing female guitar player, but after the concert I enjoyed our visit at the pub a whole lot more. The place reminded me of home. We drank drafts, and ate free peanuts. I had almost forgotten what it was like to be around good people. In fact, it was a double your pleasure night because both of my drinking buddies had read Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance; everyone had their own opinion of the book. When Jim turned the conversation to the book, I looked at him and said, "What exactly was Pirsig saying anyway?"