Today’s motto: if you can’t have big adventures, then have little ones. It’s going to be months before I make it over the ocean, but that doesn’t mean I can’t visit new places. I’m spending a lot of time in rural Ontario this year, it seems, and there are some lovely small towns around. So today, despite the lousy weather (15°C, grey, miserable and overcast – unusual for Ontario in July) and the growing need to curl up with a blanket and a cup of tea, I jumped into Alli, my beat-up, second-hand, twelve-year-old Honda and hit the road.
I’ve been living in Stratford, Ontario, on and off for two years. Since before I first came here I’ve been saying I wanted to take a road trip through Mennonite country and visit St. Jacobs. Two years later, I still had never been, so that’s where I headed last Tuesday. St. Jacobs is a small town in Woolwich Township, near Waterloo, Ontario. Originally called Jakobstettel, literally ‘Jakob’s village’, it was founded in the mid-19th century and grew up around a mill run by Jacob C. Snider, for whom it was named. St. Jacobs is mostly known for its Mennonites and its Farmers’ Market. Its other claim to fame, I discovered today, is that it is the location of the very first Home Hardware (now a chain with hundreds of stores nationwide).
Since this trip was all about going someplace new, I had Mapquest churn out a route for me that did not involve highway 7/8, a road I have taken so often I could drive it in my sleep. Instead, I wove my way through the back roads, past farms and fields, cows and sheep. My city-bred self could drive through this scenery all day and not get bored. This also allowed me to pull over when I wanted to, park in driveways and ditches and mess around with my new (to me, at least) Canon camera.
The first sign that my adventure had begun was a quite literal one. As I turned off the wonderfully named Lobsinger Line onto King Street, the main road in St. Jacobs and the one that connects it to the Farmers’ Market 3km away, I passed a sign at the edge of a dirt lane beside the road: for horse-drawn vehicles only. Awesome.
Since the Farmers’ Market is only open until 3pm on Tuesdays, and it was nearly 1pm before I made it to St. Jacobs, I made that my first stop. (The St. Jacobs Farmers’ Market is open year-round on Thursdays and Saturdays from 7am to 3:30pm, and Tuesdays between mid-June and the end of August from 8am to 3pm.) I started with the Tuesday Market (I’m sure it has another name, but that was the only sign I could see on the building), a long building in warm, solid timber, with stalls on two levels. The ground floor is mostly for food: butchers, bakers, cheese-sellers, vendors of fudge, candies, nuts and spices, among other things, with stalls selling hot food clustered at one end. I bought a croissant to munch on while I walked, and a loaf of bread, then an apple-cinnamon crumble, and then decided it was time to get away from the bakers. The gallery level was mostly craft stalls, selling everything from Canadian-made moccasins to Serengeti African imports.
The far end of the Tuesday Market lets out onto a paved area with picnic benches and some open-air stalls. There was an older gentleman sitting on the building’s porch with a guitar and harmonica playing country songs, busking. I sat at one of the picnic benches, finishing my snack, and enjoying the sun that had, however briefly, deigned to show its face. Since the weather was so spotty, there weren’t huge crowds, but there was still a good mix of tourists, locals and Mennonites to people-watch.
Mennonites are Christian Anabaptists, originating largely in Germany, Switzerland and the Netherlands, named for Menno Simons (1496-1561). He was not the founder of the order, as such, but wrote extensively about their beliefs, and so “formalised the teachings of earlier Swiss founders,” according to Wikipedia. They split from other forms of Christianity during the Protestant Reformation. They believe that people should be baptised as adults, not as infants, that it should be a conscious choice and a commitment. They believe in the separation of church and state, and they are completely pacifist. They were persecuted in the 16th century, and many left their home countries to settle in more tolerant neighbouring states. In the 17th century, many found religious freedom in the American colonies, and in the 18th century, some moved from Pennsylvania up into what is now Ontario. Some were looking for land to farm, others were worried that the newly formed United States might force them to do military service.
Old order Mennonites are quite distinctive in their conservative dress. The men often wear long beards, dark trousers with suspenders and wide-brimmed hats. The women wear plain skirts or dresses that reach past their knees and bonnets or head coverings. There are varying degrees of strictness, in terms of dress – one woman walked past me in a long skirt, bonnet, cloak and crocs.
From the courtyard, I headed into the Peddlars Village Flea Market. This place… pretty much does what it says on the tin. It’s a flea market, selling all the varieties of treasures and tat that implies. And with the same unique aroma of dust, incense and French fries common to flea markets everywhere. I meandered through, and let myself be distracted by signs for a furniture gallery. The sombre, modern store I ended up in was much less interesting than the route the signs took me on to get there; a concrete and tile hallway redolent of farm animals and echoing with the cadence of an auctioneer. It was the Mennonite cattle auction. Of the three rings off the hallway (dairy, beef and stocker) only the beef ring was occupied, full of men in hats and beards and closed to the public.
Outside the flea market is a farmers’ market selling flowers and locally grown fruit and veg. There were also outside stalls extending the flea market, more food stalls, a pony ride, and a bouncy castle shaped like a giraffe. Among all this were signs for a horse-drawn Mennonite farm tour. I was tempted, but only had $11 in cash on me (the tour costs $16 for adults, $8 for children) so I’ll have to go back and do that some other time. Also left unexplored was the St. Jacobs Outlet Mall across the street. I was much more into the heritage charm, but if outlet malls are your thing, I’m sure it’s worth a look.
Done with the market, I headed back for my car and drove the three kilometres to the town centre. Just outside the market I passed a Mennonite farm – large, with a cluster of wooden buildings and two girls in long blue dresses wielding hoes in the vegetable garden.
I dropped my car in the free municipal lot at the bottom of Albert St., two blocks off the main drag, and wandered up to start exploring. The brochure I picked up invited me to “Discover intriguing shops – including fashion, décor, gifts, gourmet foods, and antiques – nestled in restored 19th century 
buildings and within charming storefronts.” Just to give you an idea of what the town is all about. And the main street certainly is picturesque. My first stop was The Mill and Silos. This was once the mill around which the town sprang up. Now, it’s part craft shop, part gallery, part museum.
The ground floor was a large shop selling largely First Nations crafts. I had a quick browse then headed down to the basement. This is now the home of the Home Hardware museum, which is far less a corporate wank and far more interesting 
than you might think. It includes an exhibit about the history of the town itself, with some wonderful photos from the 19th and early 20th centuries. There is also an exhibit about the history of electricity in the town; despite its quaint appeal now, it was quite the progressive little village at one point. The ‘Home Hardware’ portion of the museum is less about the store, and more a display of tools and household appliances from the last 150 years. There are a series of typewriters and cash registers from across the years, an electric mixer from the 50s, among other things, and a whole assortment of old nails and hinges and general ironmongery.
From the basement, I headed up to the second floor (i.e. the first floor above ground level, for the Europeans in the 
audience). This houses an assortment of lovely little shops selling jewellery, beads, quilts and handmade soaps. There is a little café with a lovely balcony, and a gallery of paintings by Woldemar Neufeld. The mill and silos are joined at this point into one slightly maze-like building, and a large part of the delight of wandering through this section is the architecture. On the ground floor of the Silos portion of the building is the Conestoga River Pottery store, which I fell in love with instantly. The pottery is stunning, and you can peek down into their studio to watch pieces being made. I bought a mug, and if I had the disposable income, would have bought an entire tea set.
Up on the third floor is the Maple Syrup Museum, with a display of tools and photos, a wee log cabin, a 12-minute DVD, and a handful of Dutch tourists. Having been on many a trip to the Kortright Centre during sugaring season, I didn’t linger. More fascinating to me was the map on the wall where visitors are invited to stick pins in their hometowns. The map was positively furry with pins, and I’m not sure why I’m so delighted that people from Greenland and Siberia, India and Argentina and other exotic locations, have come to tourist in tiny little St. Jacobs.
Sharing the third floor with the Maple Syrup Museum is an exhibit of quilts, and I took a lap around this section before heading upstairs. The fourth floor is a little attic of a space, almost entirely devoted to a period model train mock-up of the village. For some reason I found the little 1950s-era Esso station absolutely adorable.
I left the Mill and wandered through the back streets for a while, up Albert Street to take a look at the Schoolhouse Theatre (once a schoolhouse, now a theatre, go figure) out of a vague sense of professional curiosity, then over to the local library where I sat on a bench and watched a horse and buggy drive by. It was nice to get a sense of the town as a town and not simply as a tourist attraction.
From the library, I headed back down to King Street and across it to the Visitor’s Centre. The ground floor has a wide variety of brochures for attractions all over Ontario, and, further back, books about St. Jacobs and about the Mennonites. Also, and almost more importantly, it has a bathroom. In the basement is the exhibit “Telling the Mennonite Story.” It starts with a DVD giving a good overview of the history and beliefs, and continues with more detailed information, maps and photos mounted on the walls, many of which contain interactive audio/visual components.
From the Visitor’s Centre, I just wandered up the main street, browsing or window shopping in the stores along the way. I stopped for a chat with the two lovely ladies running the quilting supplies shop, until they were called away by a lost Kiwi bloke who had come in looking for his wife.
On my way back to the car, I stopped at the Stone Crock Bakery to pick up a snack for the drive home. I highly recommend a visit, if only for the smell as you walk in the door. I also enjoyed the view of the open kitchens, and watched Mennonite women measuring dough as I waited to pay for my purchases.
And that, other than a stop at the Tim Hortons on the way out of town, was my very first mini-adventure in rural Ontario. I headed out again along the wonderfully-named Lobsinger Line, past the equally wonderfully-named Chatterbox Farms, and managed to find my way back to Stratford without getting too terribly lost. Lesson for next time? Always remember to print the Mapquest directions in reverse.
kithika