Niagara Weekend Getaway | DAY 1: (Pt. 3) Clifton Hill + Winter Festival of Lights

Read Part 2 HERE !

Following our departure from the Niagara Parks Power Station, we meandered through the southern section of the Winter Festival of Lights, catching glimpses of the exhibit that we would later survey on foot.

​Eventually, we arrived at our accommodations for the evening. A lofty Christmas tree resided in the lobby of DoubleTree Fallsview, bordered by withering poinsettias and seasonal patterned cushions.

​At check-in, two individually packaged cookies were bestowed upon us - they were warm too! Bellboy services were not offered by the hotel. As such, I took to arranging my multiple bags on the triangular luggage cart after requesting a water refill from Moose & Squirrel. Disposable water bottles, as learned from my stay in Vancouver, were no longer provided to guests during their stay.

​The room, situated at the north corner of the floor, granted an unobstructed view of the Skylon Tower, yet not a particularly clear view of either Falls. Exceptionally spacious, the H-shaped arrangement comprised of a TV-equipped living room (that could be utilized as a second bedroom) and master room (inclusive of an office setup). These spaces were connected via a corridor housing the drink preparation area/mini fridge, closet, and bathroom. I was admittedly impressed by the efficient allocation of space, and gleefully expressed the room as more comfortable than the pricier alternative chosen by myself and the Thai ahgase. Moreover, the luggage rack had already been setup at our time of arrival; concierge services had been amicable as well.

​Throughout my mandatory disinfecting procedures, the facilities were deemed relatively pristine. The Lysol wipes emerged mildly grey, instating some degree of faith in the hotel's cleaning procedures.

The sleepy polar bear, much like orangecane, couldn't withhold evident frustration.
"The pillows have hair!"
"So what are you going to do?" I responded, matter-of-factly. "Are you going to complain and that's it? Let's just call concierge and request new pillows."
Amidst flares of fury, the sleepy polar bear approached the phone without any plan for the subsequent steps. "What's the number for concierge?"
Recalling information received from the girl at the check-in desk, I repeated her exact words: "Dial 0 for 24/7 concierge."

​Without a moment's hesitation, I suggested dining downstairs. The proposal would serve to meet our collective needs of efficiency and economics.

​Across from Buchanans Steak & Seafood was a buffet-style holiday party - apparently one of three being held in the hotel. Entering into the restaurant opposite a lime green-and-red balloon arch, we found noticeable emptiness across the dining floor. However, this observation would not necessarily coincide with attentive service levels or swift delivery of meals.

Our server, a girl with wide-framed lenses and an apprehensive, wide-eyed gaze, came scurrying over to take our orders. Her tone was hurried and anxious, as if she had committed to a coworker's shift without sufficient warning. An air of inexperience hovered about her, from the manner in which she responded to menu inquiries to the noticeable size difference between our water glasses and that of the adjacent tables. I also found the display of butter balls on a serving plate to be peculiar; it is customary to utilize a ramekin to prevent the spheres from rolling off the surface.

​Orders of Buchanans Own French Onion Soup, Prime Angus Beef Fire Grilled Burger, and Fresh Lake Erie Pickerel were requested for concurrent arrival. In addition, I pointed towards the Ironwood Hard Cider - a sweeter alternative to beer that the sleepy polar bear could partake in the consumption of.

An ice-filled glass and chilled can of local cider appeared within minutes of our request. The starter and entrées, on the other hand, were nowhere to be seen even after thirty minutes. Antsily counting down to the fireworks show at 8 PM, I began to shift in my seat. The lengthy wait time prompted two follow-up attempts - one via another server and one via the hostess.
​The sleepy polar bear would continue munching on butter-coated rounds of bread in the meantime, passively aggressively noting temperature preferences: "It would be better warm." ​I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Surely enough, the items emerged soon after the reminders.

​My Prime Angus Beef Fire Grilled Burger was served in an open-face format, with slivers of pickle, tomato, and lettuce layered on one side of lightly toasted brioche and a juicy, bacon- and cheddar-topped patty on the other. A tacky balsamic dressing had been included next to the salad, as per my specifications. While I had minimal affinity for the red onion rings and cabbage slaw, yellow cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and baby spinach was a welcome addition to an otherwise veggie-less day.

The "Fire Grilled Burger" was flawless - noteworthy in its sweet-savoury combination and exemplary meat patty. The brioche bun was positively plush, bacon crispy, and fresh veggies crunchy and refreshing. Though I had my initial reservations towards the portion size, I surprised both of us by depleting the burger in its entirety. Remnants of the salad would be reserved for later consumption and stored in the hotel fridge until check-out.

Served on a bed of rice (Uncle Ben's?) and nestled between gently charred carrot halves, the Fresh Lake Erie Pickerel maintained visual consistency with a warm colour palette. The pea-toned sauce ladled on top was undistinguishable: not nearly bland, but not potent either. Lean was the fillet, supplying protein with a moderate sense of heartiness.
I sampled a forkful of the fish, then quickly deduced superiority of my spread. Given the price difference of eight dollars, the Prime Angus Burger would easily rank higher than the likes of the twenty-seven dollar Pickerel plate, whether in taste, presentation, or value.

Buchanans Own French Onion Soup was drawn close after a few bites of each entrée. I extended words of appreciation towards the restaurant's use of Gruyère, but the praise would, regrettably, terminate there. The broth was sodium-laden, spiked with a heavy-handed dose of vinegar, then topped with pieces of pungent raw onion. It also appeared that the bread had been placed prematurely, failing to absorb enough liquid to render it malleable. As opposed to luscious spoonfuls of soluble, onion-y goodness, I was hit with an unpleasant starchiness. The French Onion Soup, while promising in appearance, exuded a profile that neither of us wished to endure.


The Ironwood Hard Cider served as a convenient escape for the ghastly starter, despite not being all that formidable on its own.

We then rushed back to the unit, geared up, and attempted to dash towards the falls for the fireworks show. Rushing incited the formation of condensation on my lenses, clouding my vision drastically. While checking for oncoming traffic, my foot slid off a curb and I nearly keeled onto the asphalt surface beneath me. Thankfully, pilates had encouraged the development of core strength - an internal balancing mechanism useful in situations such as these (or even as mundane as riding the subway).

​The fireworks show had commenced before we managed to make our way over. While hurrying over, we found our perspective to be evolving for the worse, similar to the crowding case at the Distillery District's Tree Lighting Ceremony.  In the chaos of it all, we turned to one another and agreed that staying in the hotel room would have been the better choice; the finale was observed through an overlay of barren branches.

​Then, our footsteps began to slow. Inching our way past the SkyWheel, we arrived at Clifton Hill.

I proposed a brief journey through the district before our trek through the Winter Festival of Lights.

And, of course, we would be making a mandatory stop at Rainforest Café.

​The plushie supply has undoubtedly expanded since my last visit. The same would apply to the selection of arcade games, which was bustling at our time of entry.

Roaming to just north of the lights display, we entered into Hershey's Chocolate World. 

​The themed tourist attraction was a wealth of souvenir charms, candy-themed cushions, and steeply priced chocolate bars. Of greatest interest to us were the scented candles, the Reese one in particular. Peanut butter goodness swelled in our olfactory detectors. In stark contrast were the icky, synthetic whiffs of the Cookies 'n' Creme and S'Mores editions positioned adjacent.

​At long last, we descended onto the Fallsview Trail.

​A rainbow arc awaited us at the southwest corner of Clifton Hill and Niagara Parkway. While a fitting photo spot during daytime hours, the arrival of nightfall resulted in dim, and primarily fuzzy, pictures.

The exhibit spanned trees of complimentary hues, angels, a maple leaf, candy canes, faux shrubbery, and more.

View the full album HERE !

For those looking to enjoy an overview of the festival, it is advisable to maneuver along the strip in a vehicle with pristine windows. The trail on the west side led to Queen Victoria Place, and a gingerbread house with restricted access.

Beyond the building lay a stretch of trail devoid of festive illumination. We opted to cross over to the east side and loop back to Clifton Hill.

​Weather conditions were relatively mild given the time of year, enabling us to enjoy the night views without tremendous shivers. The distinct reduction in foot traffic was another welcome change. Photos of both Horseshoe Falls and American Falls could be captured without fear of intruding on others, or being subject to constant interruption.

​Exploring the Falls in the late evening hours was a new experience to me, facilitated by the overnight stay.

​Complementing the Winter Festival of Lights was a semi-official Hot Chocolate Trail. As opposed to installing warming stations and food trucks along the trail, majority of the participating vendors were, in fact, situated closer to the entertainment district.

​My pick was Ruby Tuesday, a franchise name I had accidentally chanced across in Hong Kong.

​​A Dirty Snowman Hot Chocolate was requested to go, but denied by the restaurant on the basis of the drink's alcohol content. The virgin Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate could assume a takeout format, but the additions of Baileys, Crème de Cacao, and vodka had strictly imposed dine-in protocols.

​Far more indulgent than I could have fathomed, the $8.99 beverage was a wondrous medley of creaminess. It injected just the faintest amount of warmth into the body, yet not adequate enough to summon the iconic alcohol-induced buzz. The scoop of vanilla ice cream quickly disintegrated into the drink, transforming into an abstract representation of its name.

​Having completed the day's journey on a dose of toastiness, we retreated back to the DoubleTree. ​Somehow, the path felt longer than when we had departed in a haste.

​By the time we had reached the Fallsview Boulevard entrance, we were clocking in at 11 kilometres and 16,395 steps.

​Water refills were no longer available after 10 PM, as Moose & Squirrel had shuttered for the evening. Interestingly enough, fountains had also ceased operations. Concierge provided us the option of obtaining single-use bottles from vending machines on designated floors instead. Dasani and Nestea rang in at three dollars each. From that moment forward, we made mental notes to procure from Costco before setting out.