Where can you go to hang out with Vincent van Gogh, Freddie Mercury, a giant octopus, and a few dinosaurs? If you’re me and it’s October, you head to Upper Canada Village, a heritage park in Morrisburg, eastern Ontario. Each autumn, this genteel farmland setting is transformed into an incredible pumpkin-focused experience, the decorative gourds transforming the landscape into every possible tableau, from classic art, rock and roll bands, undersea adventures, and, well, dinos. If you’re looking for an autumn experience that combines creativity, community spirit, and a touch of whimsy, you need to head to Upper Canada Village’s Pumpkinferno. My October wouldn’t be complete without it.

Looking for a sweet spot to visit this autumn, one filled with cinnamon, cider, and cozy vibes? You have to visit to Chazy Orchards in Chazy, New York. Located just minutes from the city of Plattsburgh and a short drive from Montreal, this is more than just a tasty culinary destination. Chazy Orchards is part of American food history, the world's largest McIntosh apple orchard, and an amazing dog-friendly site that is Clover-approved. Just look how cute she is sniffing the apples!

Picture this: Saint Croix Island, the first French settlement in Canada, where in 1604, 79 brave souls faced a winter beyond description. Water, food, and shelter were all but nonexistent. 35 men perished from the cold, disease, and lack of provisions (including scurvy-preventing vitamin-rich foods). If the French wanted to establish a presence in North America, something had to change, and quickly. 

It did. Thanks to the generosity of the local Mi’kmaq people, the French learned about a more hospitable site nearby on the mainland, a site that was likely very close to the current Port-Royal National Historic Site. Conditions improved, but life for a French soldier in the early 1600s was anything but luxurious. Scurvy persisted, and morale was poor. But what to do?

Turns out, soldiers living about 400 years ago are just like you and me. They work best with full bellies and a little good cheer. As such, in 1606 Samuel de Champlain founded The Order of Good Cheer, the first dinner club in Canada (and probably all of North America). These dinners were spirited affairs, complete with gourmet food and visiting dignitaries. Here's what it's like to walk in their footsteps.

If you're a Canadian of a certain age, you are undoubtedly familiar with the following words:

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Robert Service's haunting poem, The Cremation of Sam McGee, was required reading for me and just about every other Canadian school kid in the 1980s and 1990s. Little did I know that Service himself experienced a harrowing, haunting moment of his own - and that he may have been the source of someone else's ghostly encounter.

Oh, and of course, there's an ice cream shop involved. Welcome to ghost stories, Victoria-style.

The white container with jaunty red and blue stripes reminds me of a barber pole. The motto “It’s hygienic!” jumps off the cardboard but isn’t quite the reassurance I need to gulp the murky grey sludge within. I’m 23 years old and living in Malawi for the first time, where clean water is precious and pricey, while sorghum beer, like that found in the colourful container, is cheap and plentiful. It’s called Chibuku, which is indeed hygienic thanks to the industrial processing plants that create it across sub-Saharan Africa. It’s the undisputed regional favourite, and I want to try it, but I’m too scared. It doesn’t help that I’m not an adventurous drinker - nor that my colleagues joke that Chibuku ‘tastes the same going down as it does coming back up.’ Instead, I buy myself soft drinks. They, too, are hygienic, but they’re also safe, and something like shame gnaws in my stomach, telling me that I don’t have the real spirit of adventure running through my veins. When I return to Canada, a bit of regret follows me, certain that the opportunity to have a real travel exploit has passed me by, and I have only my fretful self to blame.

It takes 14 years, but Chibuku and I find each other again - and this time, it takes me by surprise. I’m in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, all grown up and with nothing to prove - nothing, that is, until I hear about a legendary local restaurant that offers a scrumptious buffet, complete with black, glistening, crunchy, fried mopane worms. Falling somewhere between an economical protein source in rural areas and a fun, salty snack in posh city bars, mopane worms are one of Zimbabwe’s most famous foods. The worm in question is actually a caterpillar, a deconstructed emperor moth, if you will. And its favourite food is the tender leaves of the mopane tree.

Once again, I find myself both greatly intrigued and rather terrified all at the same time.

As the owner of the world's oldest running cozy travel blog (I think!), no one has been more excited than me to welcome this summer's biggest trend: Demure.

What, exactly is demure? It would be easy to dismiss it as simply TikTok's trend of the month. Demure means being modest, mindful, and a little cutesy. Yes, this sounds pretty close to the classical definition of the word but for beauty influencer Jools Lebron, who put it into everyone's lexicon this month, demure is so much more. It's about being respectful but not trying too hard. It's about rejecting the messy world, subtly  protesting crassness and drama by sipping your drink with one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched. And I predict that this is going to be much more than a social media trend. I think it's going to be an ongoing lifestyle movement akin to the Danish hygge (homey coziness) phenomenal, because demure folks have been waiting SO long for their moment to come in a world of excess.

Demure and travel go hand in hand. Staying in your seat until the aircraft has come to a complete stop at the gate? Demure. Kindly greeting your seatmate? Demure. Putting on your headphones, sipping your drink, and ignoring your seatmate? Also demure. Demure travellers are always polite with airport staff, never put their bare feet on someone else's seat, and pack carefully considered snacks without being too fussy about it. 

I wanted to have some fun with the idea of demure travel and talk about the best travel-inspired demure nail polish shades. Now, do I really know all that much about nail polish? Nope. Am I secretly hoping to ascend the ranks of beauty influencer? Definitely not. But your girl knows travel and is demure to the core. 

I chose OPI polish because A.) It has so many wonderful travel-inspired collections and B.) It's basically the only brand I know. Like I said: travel, not beauty, is my wheelhouse. Plus, the brand is so popular I know it will be easy for most readers to find. So mindful of me! Enjoy.

​I can’t tell you when Labrador first hit my travel radar. 

This rugged, remote Canadian region, a part of the province of Newfoundland and Labrador but physically connected to north-east Quebec, is not a spot for a wimpy traveller like me. Distances are far, amenities can be sparse, and the mosquitoes will strip you bare in seconds. Yet the place they call The Big Land has been calling for me for years. Labrador has topped my travel wish list since the beginning of the pandemic. When I had the opportunity to visit as part of the annual Travel Media Association of Canada conference, I knew I had to go.

I dearly wanted to make Labrador’s acquaintance, but it’s doubtful that the region wanted the likes of me. I have no good reason to be enamoured with small Labrador fishing communities like Red Bay and Battle Harbour. My aversion to boats is both legendary and well-founded. Similarly, I can’t tell you why stories from events such as Cain’s Quest, Labrador’s legendary annual 3,100-kilometre snowmobile endurance race capture my heart. I dislike cold weather, sporty things, and noisy fanfare. Frankly, even the process of getting to Labrador is determinedly very non-Vanessa-ish. I like cold foam on coffee, not ferry decks, thank you very much. So, sure, the villages are cute, and the events are spirited, but this is clearly the kind of place I should appreciate through a documentary and not my own Gravol-addled brain. 

Thankfully, my heart is immune to common sense.