With recreational cannabis consumption set to become legal in exactly three weeks, this Mostly Amazing series explores 11 places across the land that are best experienced with a buzz.

As a dad, I rely on magic over the winter holidays.

"How does Santa get down the chimney?" my daughters ask.

"Magic," I reply.

"How does he deliver presents to all the kids around the world?"

"To all the good kids? Magic."

While it has proved indispensable as an explanation (and disciplinary tool), "magic" was starting to feel like a bit of a cop-out before I experienced Lumina Borealis in Kingston.

That's when everything changed. If you want to restore your faith in magic, while proving to your offspring that it is real, visit the dazzling multimedia installation that's slated to return to the Fort Henry National Historic Site this December for its third winter. 

I jumped at the chance to check out Lumina Borealis at the tail end of my family's circuitous holiday road trip around Ontario and Quebec. I was drawn to the stirring outdoor setting I had only experienced in summer – never before has the 181-year-old fort offered anything on this scale in winter – and was intrigued by a comment from the daughter of St. Lawrence Parks Commission CEO Darren Dalgleish, which is said to have inspired the project: "You need to do Frozen meets It's a Wonderful Life."

My inner audiovisual aficionado, meanwhile, wondered what $3-million worth of projection, light and sound equipment looks like.

In short, it looks out of this world. Our walking tour of the lower fort took about 90 minutes, and I could spend at least that long describing the interactive, immersive wonders that unfolded as my family strolled, awestruck, around the yawning dry moat. After wandering through a glowing assembly of stylized icebergs and an evergreen forest clad in iridescent icicles, we reached a towering stone wall blazing with projected colours. Our shadows appeared on the wall as we passed, but not in their usual form. Instead, they somehow morphed into the swirling display, enticing us to twirl, jump and dance.

As one silver-haired visitor giddily remarked, "This takes me back to the sixties."

READ THE REST OF THE STORY IN THE GLOBE AND MAIL

This is how my MSN gallery assignments work:

Step 1: I suggest a topic or am given one.
Step 2: My editors determine the number of slides involved.
Step 3: I cry myself to sleep over the compensation.
Step 4: I write the gallery copy, select corresponding photos, yadda yadda yadda, and make my deadline like no deadline has ever been made before.
Step 5: The gallery is posted and the Pulitzer people start calling. Leave me be you bow-tied devils!
Step 6: The gallery is somehow used to sway elections in Burkina Faso.

Somewhere between steps 4 and 5 a few of my genius selections are occasionally nixed. A record-setting four slides in my new "20 incredible moms who made history" gallery, for instance, were given the old heave-ho, apparently because they deal with religious subjects or refer to mothers who gave birth to greatness but were not historically great themselves. I tried to argue the second point — you’ll understand why soon enough — but gave up when I realized that arguing takes time, and time is money, and money is the root of all evil, and Roots makes sweatpants, and sweatpants are a sign of giving up.

So because today is Mother's Day, and because this is my blog and I can post whatever the hell I want (insert evil laugh), here are the four slides that missed, but deserved to make, the cut:

Grace Sutter
When Grace married in the early 1950s and settled on an Alberta farm, she probably didn’t expect to raise seven sons and not a single daughter. It wouldn’t have surprised her that her sons played hockey — they’re Albertans, after all — but there’s no way she could have known that six of the seven would make it to the NHL.

Writer’s note: A mom raises seven boys, six of whom go on to play and coach NHL hockey, and she’s not historically great? Seriously? Come ON.

Mary Ball Washington
The mother of America’s first president was instrumental in molding her first-born son, George, into a true icon of history. An orphan at 13 and a widow at 35, Mary never remarried, instead choosing to manage her family and property herself. She was seen as a difficult woman by many, but she did things her way — especially when it came to her nation-building son.

Writer’s note: George Washington said his mother “was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her.” But did he always answer her texts? Even when he was powering his wig? I doubt it.

The Virgin Mary
Two of the three great monotheistic religions have mothers as central figures. (Muhammad was orphaned at an early age, which takes Islam out of the picture.) For the 2 billion Christians out there, the mother of Jesus Christ is about as good as it gets. After all, according to the Bible, Mary gave birth to the messiah after being impregnated by God, spirited him away when his young life was in danger, witnessed his resurrection, established the Stations of the Cross...the list of blessed deeds goes on and on.

Writer’s note: I think I’ll send Mary a signed copy of 1,000 Places To See After You Die. The Aramaic edition, of course.

Jochebed
Judaism, meanwhile, celebrates the heroism of Moses’s mother. Tradition has it that Jochebed, who was also mom to Aaron and Miriam, hid Moses for three months when the Egyptians ordered the death of all newborn Hebrew males. Then she united him with his destiny by setting him afloat on the Nile in a reed basket that was found by the pharaoh’s daughter. Moses was reared in the Egyptian court, and the rest is history.

Writer’s note: If you’re not Jewish, is it sacrilegious to think Jochebed was kind of hot? Asking for a friend...

'Tis the season to be jolly, no doubt, but 'tis also the season for 2018 lookaheads: Bands to watch, TV to binge-watch, teams to wager on, presidents to impeach, you know the drill.

For my part, I've already contributed an MSN travel lookahead based on big-name events, globetrotter buzz, recent recognition and so on. But based on personal experience, here are my Top 18 recommendations for 2018: 

FONTEVRAUD L’HÔTEL, LOIRE VALLEY, FRANCE: I can think of no better place to savour the pungent aromas of a ridiculous cheese tray than this re-purposed abbey building. Read more here.

PARK CITY, UTAH: The ski area runs right into its historic namesake town, with a ski run and chairlift carrying schussers straight to Main Street. Down a side street there's some Plexiglas-covered Banksy graffiti, one of three works that appeared alongside the 2010 Sundance Film Fest premiere of the British street artist's compelling Exit Through the Gift Shop documentary. Read more here.

SEA TO SKY GONDOLA, B.C.: From the enormous sunset-facing patio, one of three panoramic viewing platforms, I gaze up at Sky Pilot Mountain’s horn-shaped peak as it tears clouds to shreds, while Howe Sound glitters in the forested fjord nearly a kilometre below. Read more here.

PALAFITOS AT EL DORADO MAROMA, PLAYA DEL CARMEN, MEXICO: Exhausted from celebrating a huge lottery win? These over-ocean glass-floored bungalows should do the trick. Read more here.

POWDER HIGHWAY, B.C.: Some of the best skiing on Earth meets jaw-dropping scenery, innovative food an drink, and welcoming mountain towns where the apres-ski scene eschews noisy Nickelback and Coors Light. Read more here and here.

LUANG PRABANG, LAOS: Standing on the balcony of the guesthouse, we watch as a line of Buddhist monks, dressed in orange robes, walk from house to house, collecting their sustenance for the day. With the sun rising above the hills and bird calls piercing the chilly air, it's an indelible image that clears our minds and fortifies our spirits. Read more here.

KINGSTON, ONT.: The dazzling Lumina Borealis multimedia installation in the Fort Henry National Historic Site celebrates the magic of winter, while tours of Kingston Penitentiary reveal beauty amid brutality. Read more here and here.

WICKER PARK AND BUCKTOWN, CHICAGO: These adjacent neighbourhoods already offered just about every urban amenity one could want – from vintage fashion boutiques and record shops to taco stands, cocktail bars and even a landscaped rail path – years before the Robey and Hollander hotels opened in late 2016. Read more here.

MOUNT NORQUAY VIA FERRATA, BANFF: From where I'm hanging, on a sheer cliff face some 700 metres above the Bow Valley floor, it's clear that my scaling skills are about to be tested like never before. Read more here.

NICOYA PENINSULA, COSTA RICA: Watch sea turtles lay hundreds of glistening eggs, high five Bruce Willis, it's all good. Read more here and here.

OLD MONTREAL: I grab a Moscow Mule from the buzzing bar and make my way out onto the enormous glass-walled outdoor patio to conclude the evening with head-spinning views of the glittering Montreal skyline. Then, in my mind’s ear, I hear it... Read more here.

NIMMO BAY, B.C.: Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” reverberates through my headset as our soundtrack-equipped helicopter soars over the bluest lake I've ever seen. At that moment, the lips in question belong to the awestruck passenger next to me. But it’s easy to see what she’s saying: “Wow!”​ Read more here.

COL DE LA JOUX VERTE, FRANCE: So this is what a 14-per-cent gradient feels like on a bike. Oh dear. If I can just focus on that pretty waterfall up ahead I’ll make it up this climb and…WHAT!?! That was the first of what I fear will be several switchbacks. And they’re getting steeper. Do they have Uber up here? Read more here.

SPORTFISHING IN LAKE ONTARIO: Lulls in the action are few and far between — we throw back more than we keep — and just as the sun is setting spectacularly behind the distant CN Tower we reach our 15-fish limit. Read more here.

THOMPSON-SHUSWAP WINERIES, B.C.: Having just arrived from winter-weary Toronto, I pull an abrupt double-take when three sleeveless Kamloopsians stroll into view in early April. They too seem surprised, but not by my woolly sweater. It’s my ride – Tastefull Excursions’ new wine-touring van – that turns their heads. Read more here.

VAGABOND HOTEL, MIAMI: I must have set some kind of land-speed record for hotel tours while researching my Globe Travel story on Miami Beach. Thing is, my personal favourite of the lot isn't actually in Miami Beach. Read more here.

PROVIDENTIALES, TURKS & CAICOS: There are few places on Earth where the "beach gravity" - the allure of sand and sea - is as inexorable as it is on Grace Bay. Read more here.

BIG WHITE SKI RESORT, B.C.: A decade after embarking on the first of umpteen family ski trips, arranging the "Door-to-Ski Shuttle Service" represents the pinnacle of my vacation-planning powers. Read more here.

If you missed my coverage of this stunning Loire Valley property the first time around, and since I couldn't fit it into my recent "top five travel destinations for fall" roundup in the Globe, here's the review again. After all, I can think of no better place to revel in the golden glow of autumn and savour the pungent aromas of a ridiculous cheese tray. 

Anyone seeking overnight accommodations in the Loire Valley’s most famous châteaux is out of luck. But there’s more to this UNESCO World Heritage Site than pretty castles.

Take Europe’s largest abbey: Founded in 1101, Fontevraud was at one time home to more than a thousand monks and nuns, whose matriarchal order eventually stretched from Portugal to Poland. It all came crashing down in 1792, however, when French revolutionaries ordered the evacuation of all religious residences in the land. The abbey was soon converted into a prison, which earned a brutal reputation before closing in 1963. Two decades later, after extensive restoration work, it reopened as yet another deconsecrated historic monument.

But this wouldn’t be the last of Fontevraud’s transformations. In June of 2014, after a $24-million overhaul, the abbey’s former leper ward (of all places) opened as a stylish, eco-conscious and technologically aggressive hotel.

LOCATION, LOCATION
The only remarkable thing about the typically winsome village of Fontevraud-l’Abbaye is its namesake, which fans out from a lovely cobblestone square. Once guests have found the hotel parking lot at the rear of the 14-hectare estate – the signage is tiny and easy to miss – they are whisked to the lobby in golf carts. That 60-second ride is a rousing introduction to the abbey’s sky-scraping spires.

DESIGN
New arrivals are encouraged to relax in the adjacent iBar, a dramatically lit blend of medieval, modern and futuristic sensibilities.
The former chapel’s vaulted ceiling soars over stylish oak banquettes, while padded room dividers line the stone walls to prevent conversation from echoing endlessly. (The monks and nuns took vows of silence, after all.) Here, educational touch screens act as tabletops; swipe a finger across them and prison blueprints replace views of the medieval abbey.
The hotel doesn’t shy away from its lean legacy and it soon becomes clear that this isn’t a typical hotel experience, which may rankle guests who expect air conditioning and plentiful toiletries. The compact rooms are clean and comfortable, with simple furnishings that evoke the abbey’s monastic roots. A staffer admits the expansive stone spaces may get chilly in winter – the complex is heated by a green-roofed, wood-fired power plant – but then points to a row of coat hangers that will carry complimentary cloaks.

READ THE REST OF THE REVIEW IN THE GLOBE AND MAIL

Travel elicits many emotions, from awe to anger and from upgrade ecstasy to gift-shop remorse. But over the course of my Canadian wanderings there’s something more: Pride. That's what this series is all about: Sharing my proud perspective on the places and experiences that make my country the greatest on Earth. Some of my selections are world-famous, others are little-known and a few are acquired tastes. The insights offered below, meanwhile, may come in handy for the 4.2 zillion people converging on Canada’s capital tomorrow...

​It’s fitting that Ottawa’s skyline is still dominated by Parliament Hill’s Peace Tower. Many other trappings of federal and international government are prominent in the home of my alma mater — Go Ravens! — such as the Royal Canadian Mint, the Prime Minister’s official residence, and the Governor General’s estate. Combine all this history and ceremony with the country’s densest collection of world-class museums, and Ottawa succeeds in making Canadians proud — and visitors a little bit jealous.

Don’t leave without...
...climbing the Peace Tower on Parliament Hill. Free elevator trips to the observation deck below the four 15-foot-wide clock faces resume July 2, and provide glorious panoramic views of the region from 200 feet up. Guided tours of the Hill’s Centre Block, meanwhile, allow visitors to explore the neo-Gothic Senate and House of Commons, as well as the ornate Library of Parliament and stirring Memorial Chamber.
...visiting the National Gallery of Canada. A short walk from Parliament, this soaring architectural masterpiece is home to six expansive gallery spaces, including a Canadian collection featuring iconic works by the Group of Seven, and a European gallery filled with paintings by geniuses like Van Gogh, Cezanne and Rembrandt. There’s a lot of artistic glory to take in, so it’s a good thing the place is so comfortable, with a pair of peaceful landscaped courtyards, a relaxing cafeteria and intimate bookstore tucked behind the skyscraping glass windows of the Great Hall.
...strolling or skating along the Rideau Canal. Before it spills into the city’s namesake river via a spectacular flight of eight locks, this 190-km-long engineering marvel and World Heritage Site is lined with cycle paths, restaurants and pubs, parks and gardens, all of which provide ideal vantage points for admiring many of the landmarks on this list.

What we overlook
The aspects of Ottawa that aren’t all about Canada tend to fall by the wayside. Just across the river in Quebec, for instance, leafy Gatineau Park is a hiker’s, cyclist’s and skier’s dream, while the Casino du Lac Leamy is an adults-only playground with gaming galore, top-notch dining, decadent spas and a 1,100-seat theatre. In the city itself, the diversions that get plenty of attention from locals — the beaches and volleyball courts of Mooney's Bay Park, for instance, or the recently revamped Lansdowne recreation complex — tend to get skipped by visitors.

Locals only
Waterfront holiday homes abound just outside of Ottawa, but you don’t need to own recreational real estate to get in on the action. Gatineau Park is home to dozens of sandy beaches, and you can take a relaxing dip in “The Pond,” a secret swimming hole tucked into the ritzy Rockcliffe Park neighbourhood off the aptly named Pond Street. Then there's the Capital Pathway network, one of the largest multi-use trails in North America with more than 600 kilometres of car-free goodness connecting many of the attractions on this list.

Family
Why cross the Atlantic to get a taste of royalty when you can sample its trappings at Rideau Hall, the official residence and workplace of Canada’s Governor General? The Queen’s representative in Canada has some pretty sweet digs: The opulent public rooms and multi-million-dollar art collection will impress grown-ups, while the expansive outdoor grounds, complete with cricket pitch, skating rink and Alice in Wonderland-style Rose Garden, will enthral youngsters. Children will also get a kick out of the changing of the guard — and the towering headgear worn by the guardsmen. 

Hip Hoods
Convenience and charm collide in the Byward Market, a 26-block shopping district sandwiched between Parliament Hill, the Ottawa River and the multi-storey Rideau Centre shopping mall. It’s home to one of the oldest agricultural markets in Canada, but don’t expect just farmers and fishmongers here. Depending on the season, the market building itself often overflows with stands selling everything from wild blackberries to hand-made bracelets. The surrounding streets, meanwhile, are lined with boutiques, restaurants, clubs and taverns, which spill into a series of open-air courtyards that will be rocking on July 1.
Bank Street, one of Ottawa’s main thoroughfares, is also the principal artery running through the Glebe neighbourhood south of downtown. Boutiques, pubs and restaurants line the streetscape here, with the multi-purpose Lansdowne Park — home to the CFL’s Grey Cup Champion Redblacks — bordering the Glebe to the south and the picturesque, park-lined Rideau Canal marking its eastern border.

Culture
The stark modern design of the Canadian War Museum evokes a bunker, the grass-covered roof a battlefield, and small windows on a towering rooftop fin spell out "Lest we forget" in Morse Code. Inside, the permanent galleries display items including one of Adolph Hitler’s Mercedes limousines, while covering conflicts ranging from First Nations battles and the War of 1812 to the Cold War and Afghanistan. The highlight, however, is the Memorial Hall, a space for remembrance and contemplation containing a single artifact: the headstone of Canada’s Unknown Soldier from the First World War.

Read the rest of the story in International Traveller magazine

WHERE TO STAY
The Courtyard Ottawa Downtown, located in the heart of the Byward Market, features an on-site Bistro where you can turn a Marriott Rewards dining card into the most patriotic of Canadian beverage. (Hint: It’s beer.)

Travel elicits many emotions, from awe to anger and from upgrade ecstasy to gift-shop remorse. But over the course of my Canadian wanderings there’s something more: Pride. That's what this daily series is all about: Sharing my proud perspective on the places and experiences that make my country the greatest on Earth.

As much as it is a celebration, Canada 150 is an opportunity to understand the modern and historical injustices faced by First Nations, Inuit and Metis peoples. Truth and reconciliation starts with education and awareness, and here travel can play a role. Hundreds of experiences across the country provide unique insight into indigenous history and culture. A few have already been covered by the Canada 150 Countdown, and more will be highlighted by the Canada 200 Countdown starting on July 4. (Yes, this is happening.)

Consider these two places on the prairies of southern Alberta. As a teenager growing up in Calgary, where First Nations culture is much more visible than in my adopted hometown of Toronto, they made a profound and lasting impression:

Writing-On-Stone Provincial Park
Why did indigenous people, coming and going over the millennia, pick this particular spot to amass the greatest concentration of rock art on the North American Plains? My repeat visits to this compact park deep in southern Alberta revealed the allure: A sea of towering sandstone hoodoos for spiritual inspiration, and a dip in the gently meandering Milk River for delicious relaxation. A wealth of wildlife — pheasant, partridge, deer and antelope — must have delivered dinner back in the day, but in the late 1980s we dined on grilled Alberta steaks — a spiritual experience all its own. Likewise, modern guided tours explored the 50-plus sites where, centuries ago, images of warriors, hunters and dancers were carved into the hoodoos.

Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump
Standing atop this gravity-powered abattoir, I could almost hear the thunder of hooves and the crunch of skulls. For 6,000 years, the region’s Blackfoot people hunted buffalo en masse by driving herds of the beefy beasts off 35-foot-high cliffs. My imagination had already been ignited by the World Heritage Site’s interpretive centre, where I had witnessed a demonstration of drumming and dancing and learned to craft my own moccasins. But with nothing but rolling prairie between myself and the horizon, it was mainly the emptiness of the place that made it so evocative of a way of life — and death — that will never return.

It was never pretty, aesthetically or environmentally. To be honest, you'd be hard-pressed to find a better example of a blot on the landscape, what with the landscape in question being so pleasing to the eye. 
I spent much of my childhood bouncing between the homes of grandparents, cousins and summer friends in Drayton, Sutton Courtney, Steventon, and the other villages and towns on and around England's rolling Wiltshire Downs. I've been back several times as an adult -- twice as a father -- and still revel in revisiting the diversions of my youth: The Uffington White Horse prehistoric hill figure; Wittenham Clumps, a pair of wooded hills and ancient forts; the footpaths around the Thames weirs at Sutton Courtney; and even the modest Sutton Wick duck pond in Drayton (pictured below), where both sets of grandparents lived across the High Street from each other.  
This is one of the most underrated parts of England. Millions of visitors take day trips from London to the Cotswold Hills and Stonehenge -- both less than an hour's drive from the Drayton Triangle, as I call it -- as well as to Oxford, the world-famous university city 20 minutes north. It could be that Didcot Power Station (pictured above), the concrete monstrosity that rose over the region in the late 1960s to near-universal dismay and distain, has caused tourists to bypass the area. If so, I owe it a debt of gratitude for the uncrowded pubs, serene villages and countryside (pictured below), and lack of tour buses in the Triangle.
These days, I also derive great pleasure from bringing my daughters along, and watching as they gaze wide-eyed at the White Horse's 110-metre-long chalk body (pictured below), or hurl crusts of bread into the swirling Thames, drawing ducks by the dozens.
Relatives who still live in the Triangle chuckle when I outline our repetitive itinerary. It probably seems strangely quaint -- boring, even -- when compared with the iconic sights of London or even those of Oxford. But I will never tire of the Triangle, or of reliving those halcyon days and sharing them with my family. 
Next time we visit, however, something will be missing. Part of it is already gone: In the early morning of July 27, the three southern cooling towers of Didcot A -- the coal-fired plant; Didcot B is fueled with natural gas -- were spectacularly demolished. (The rest of the coal plant will apparently be taken down brick by brick over the next few years.)
I would have liked to have been among the thousands of spectators who turned out for the implosion. My late grandfather Harry, however, would have been there no matter what. He despised the power station. An avid painter of English landscapes, he resented its grey brooding presence. But when I saw its plump concrete smoke stacks loom over the horizon on the way from Heathrow, I knew that a summer of non-stop fun was about the begin.
Granddad Bisby invariably excluded it from his bucolic watercolours. But if I'm ever feeling nostalgic, I may just Photoshop it in.