Last week’s Official Guide was a rousing success in Scotland. There is even talk about making it into a film. Here in Nova Scotia, the reaction has been more muted. The Mayor of New Germany did write in complaining that his village was not named after France, as I claimed, but after Luxemburg. As a whole, however, the people of the best province in the world – not counting Seine-et-Marne – are showing an astounding degree of apathy when it comes to their history.

Still, one has to press on and spread enlightenment, even when said enlightenment is only given a polite nod before being hidden under a stack of TV guides. What follows is the second of a ninety-three part instalment in which Nova Scotia’s place names are examined with meticulous attention to detail, unless of course they are not.


Sydney: This lovely port in Cape Breton was named after 16th century explorer and mime Sydney Blumenthal, who founded the city after missing his boat back to Belgium, having forgotten to set his alarm. His crew sailed on without him and settled in the Bahamas, where they invented the tan.
In 2000, Sydney was renamed ‘Sydney’ in honour of the Olympics held in Australia. It was also a ploy to lure some of the more geographically illiterate tourist from the United Kingdom into the area. The whole thing was a resounding success: of the thousand or so new visitors, barely a dozen were puzzled by the missing opera house or the dearth of shot putting.

North Sydney: a smaller version of Sydney located East of West Sydney. For a century or two, all place names in Cape Breton had to incorporate the name ‘Sydney’, or else they were moved to mainland Nova Scotia.

Sydney Mines: inadvertently misspelled upon its creation, the town took his name from Explorer Blumenthal’s second profession. Today, it is the world capital for mimes and people who simply don’t like to speak much. In 1878, the whole town nearly burned down, when no one could bring themselves to yell ‘fire’ . One person did run around flailing her arms in a vain attempt to simulate flames, but no one took any particular notice since she was known to be a bad mime and an alarmist to boot.

Tatamagouche: the city’s name was lengthened in 1974 in order to keep the tourists away. Originally known as ‘Tata’, it was simply too easy to find by sandal and sock wearing Germans and grouchy Dutch. The new name is so exhausting to pronounce, that most potential visitors don’t have the nerve to visit it, fearing that they would actually have to repeat it every time they tell their friend about the summer they spent in our province.

Liverpool: named after a famous British soccer team, which the whole town supports. This name only emerged in the 1990,after cable TV exposed the population to the sport. Previous to that the town was known as “Boston Red Sox “.

Dartmouth: Gaelic for “over there’ . The city is located across the harbour from Halifax and received it’s name from the locals’ repeated use of the phrase. Even today, when asked by tourists where a) they can find a good restaurant; b) all the entertainment is; and c) where one could buy a nice tacky T-shirt for grandma at home, the Dartmouthians point across the harbour and mumble their city’s real name.
Most of them will also neglect to mention the bridges and the ferries that can take one to Halifax. In the summer tourists are, therefore, often spotted swimming from one side of the harbour to the other.

Peggy’s Cove: Tourists officials in Nova Scotia are worried that if visitors would learn more about Peggy and her sordid past, most of them would stay away. The born-again Christian quota would certainly take a hit. It is for this reason that the truth behind the name is stored under lock and key in our archives. Far be it from me to give the whole thing away. After all, I am planning to do what every Nova Scotians does upon retirement, namely to open up a B&B right next to the lighthouse.

Blue Rocks: little is known about the origin of this place. There is anecdotal evidence, however, that Peggy did visit this tiny fishing community at some point.


Thus ends the second instalment of our on-going search for the truth. “Nomen et Omen” as the Romans used to tell each other in-between orgies. It is ,therefore, imperative that all must be revealed, even if the whole world has to know that Luenenburg is German for “Tourist Trap”.
Since there are ninety-one segments remaining in this series, your participation is vital. Should you be aware of any hidden meanings trapped within ordinary Nova Scotia names, feel free whisper them in my general direction. Our Scottish reader will be thankful.

Frank Streicher is a local house painter, who can usually be found standing on Morris Street looking wistfully at the sky hoping that it will start to rain. yell@thefibber.com