Mariner Motor Hotel
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- Airport Transportation
- Continental Breakfast
- Meeting rooms/conference facilities
- Refrigerator in room
- Non-smoking rooms
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TripAdvisor Reviews Mariner Motor Hotel Collingwood
Travel Blogs from Collingwood
... drifts of snow and we had to scramble home in ice storms. My love of winter comes and goes; it is ambivalent; it is partly made of hate, partly of awe; and it survives. It runs through me, this love, and is buried inside of me deeply, enduringly, like a beautiful white bone. I will always be a stranger to warmer climates, an odd creature of the North that looks out of place in sunlight. I will always yearn for battered mountain tops and the ...
... against the deadweight of winter. Squirrels scramble through the trees. Crows caw and hop around on the wet, loose ground. The mountain is beginning to look how I once imagined it would look like in spring: everything glittering, everything on the move in sudden rivers and streams. St Patrick's was officially held at our staff house last night. Variously termed 'The Boring House', 'The House of Peace' and 'The House of Splendid Cups of Tea, Biscuits ...
... when she didn't really mean it? How did I meet him, what was that expression he was wearing the first time, what did it mean? How did you look as you opened the door and waved and gravely walked away? And of course, the old questions; how will they remember me, do they wish me well, when will we meet again? Today, a worker from another department was talking to my supervisor. He was telling her how he was finished for the season, how he would be going ...
... next. Death, I expect, must often feel like that; when the end of life finally nears, one must wonder how it happened in such a rush, how did life go by so fast, even though the majority of days were no doubt ruled by a lethal boredom. The last moments on earth are perhaps the fiercest and angriest and greediest of them all, as we are inevitably betrayed by time in the end, a fact which should rightly provoke a final passion. Our lives are all ...
... who asks questions to learn, who exercises speech as a gateway to listening. It was a nice change of pace from the roaring chaos of my staff accommodation. Once we had drained our cups, we decided to go for a walk and drifted down to the harbour, Mark with his bike in hand. It was stunning by the waterfront; huge fingers of ice were jutting out into the far lake, sun was bouncing off the roofs of condos in bewildering flashes, the old Collingwood factory was all ...