Driving into Niagara Falls from Toronto I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. The amount of cheap motels either abandoned or barely operating gave a sense of eeriness as we neared the city limits. Every half kilometre stood bold black looming buildings with egregious signs advertising “Girls Girls Girls” or “Cheap Lap Dances”. I started to wonder what the hype was about. Was seeing the Falls from television or old picturesque paintings enough or better? I once read an article about the Niagara Falls where artists like Thomas Cole and Samuel Finley Breese Morse attempted and struggled to capture the scale of Niagara, the sheer terror of nature’s power and the sublimity of something so grand. But what stands there now is something they couldn’t have imagined and no longer romantic. 

Niagara Falls From Table Rock, 1835 Samuel Finley Breese Morse, American, 1791–1872. MFA, Boston

I was aware of the touristy hub that has now become Niagara with the casinos abound, the TGI Friday’s and trinkets with “I heart Niagara” to decorate your otherwise sad grey keychain or rusting car bumper. 
When we arrived at our hotel I immediately headed to the window. The view of the Falls was fantastic to put it simply. From above I could not only see the tumbling falls and resulting mistiness of the crashing roar against the rocks below, but I could also see Buffalo and miles into the state of New York.

I find it ironic how people, two countries over time, could take something so naturally majestic and surround it with scummy stripper poles, towering casinos that shield you from all day light, and restaurants specializing in deep fried food. To make things worse, tourism is down 50% and customer service is gone, it jumped off the cliffs and into the depths of the Niagara river. No one seems to care anymore.
The crowds that usually surround the Falls, normally making it impossible to take any good photos, are thin and easy to manoeuvre. The waiters at the restaurants come around only after they stop texting or chatting with the bartender about how much they look forward to having their own beer at home. One bartender at TGI’s kept calling waitresses “Baby” which to my ears sounds like nails on a chalk board. Through the rising mist the American side shows an even emptier railing but a taller casino stands.

Distant Views of Niagara Falls, 1830, Thomas Cole via PenHook.org

 Having entered the Fallsview Casino I was shocked to see all the black jack tables filled despite the high minimum bets of $25. Perhaps a sign of the casino’s despair when I approached the man in charge of checking ID’s he barely mustered “Are you old enough?”

It’s a shame with how gorgeous the Falls are. With the erosion that will continue to occur within the next 500 years perhaps what is currently plaguing the view will tumble into the river cleansing the land enabling the end of this abandoned funhouse.

Where Niagara really peaked my interest, however, was the old heritage buildings shockingly all boarded up with only a couple used a B&B’s. Where is the preservation of history? Where is the care?  Someone dropped the ball on the careful preservation of available resources within the Niagara area. Instead of making it a place of beauty – architecturally and naturally – they’ve allowed the history to go wayside and let casinos and exaggerated female silhouettes be the face Niagara.