Wednesday, September 10, 2008 - BOSTON and MAINE

I had the opportunity to make a very quick trip to Boston to meet some potential clients. A colleague, Bob, let me crash at his bachelor pad. He also took me out to see some Boston sights and for a brief road trip to Maine.

It's bloody impossible to drive in Boston, let alone find a place to park. Your best bet is the subway, called the T by locals. Bob lives in Wakefield so the closest T station was Oak Grove on the orange line. So, my first task upon arriving in Boston was to get from the airport out to Oak Grove. It was surprisingly easy.

The MBTA:


A surprisingly empty subway car:


Bob took me out to Harvard for dinner. We didn't actually go onto the university campus because the weather was so foul - blame Hurricane Hanna for that! Instead we had dinner at one of the local restaurants. After dinner we caught the T into Boston and Bob took me to Donovan's, a "locals" bar in the Faneuil Hall marketplace, for a few pints of Guinness. I loved listening to the heavily-accented conversations, which were mostly about the football game on the big-screen TV. It was also nice to be in a "bar" bar. They didn't serve food. They didn't have young, attractive bar tenders. They just had a wooden bar, stools, the TV, and a whole lotta alcohol.

Donovan's at night:


The next day we were supposed to get up early and head up to Maine. Hah! Great plan after a late night and a bit o' Guinness! Instead we slept in until close to noon. Luckily Maine is just a couple of hours away, a short hop over the state of New Hampshire. We arrived in Ogunquit in the early afternoon. Our first stop was the Nubble Lighthouse, which is actually closer to Cape Neddick, but I digress.

Nubble Lighthouse:


Bob the photographer:


From there we drove up towards Kennebunkport. Bob stopped at the side of the road to show me the "compound" where George Bush Sr. spends his summers. Bob pulled out his Nikon, which has a smallish telephoto lens on it, to take some photos. I'm not sure if that caused alarm, or if it was just general practice, but shortly thereafter a secret service agent strolled by and had a good look at us. I'm sure that they also recorded Bob's license plate number, and probably took a few photos of us.

George Bush Srs. compound in Kennebunkport:


Our next stop was Cape Porpoise. We stopped at a local pub hoping for a pint of Guinness but their tap wasn't working. Instead we had a couple of bottles of very delightful Shipyard Ale, a beer brewed in Maine. We sat outside and enjoyed the sun, the sights and sounds of the harbour, and the opportunity to just live life slowly.

Working fish boats in the harbour:


Lobster traps stacked on the dock:


Shucking corn for dinner at the chowder house:


Bob, his camera, and Shipyard Ale:


Our final stop of the day was the town of Kennebunkport, which is about three blocks long and two blocks wide. Bob took me to a shop that only sold condiments, and in particular, hot sauce. He'd seen a hot sauce called "Too Fucking Hot" the last time he was in the store and wanted to buy it for a friend. Unfortunately they were sold out. I wanted to buy a sauce but couldn't decide. I should have taken a picture of it - one entire wall of the store was just bottles of hot sauces. I'm not kidding!

We asked the proprietor of the condiment store about places to stay. He recommended the Kennebunkport Inn, which was a block away. We walked there to inquire about rooms and rates. A bus had just disgorged a seniors' tour and they were shuffling their way from the bar to the restaurant. We almost turned and fled. I don't know what it was, but the sea of seniors was terrifying.

Anyway, we persevered and wended our way to the front desk. The young fellow checked us into a room with a queen sized bed and was about to hand us the key when he noticed our two sets of raised eyebrows. Bob then asked for two beds or two rooms. The young fellow got a bit flustered and then suggested a suite with separate rooms. He cut the rate nearly in half for us. It was a "sweet" suite, with a spacious living room and dining room, three separate bed rooms, and a balcony.

The living room and mini-kitchen:


Two of the rooms, located just off the living room:


We checked out a couple of restaurants for dinner and settled on The Landing. It looked "rustic classy" and the menu seemed quite varied. However, I knew we were in for a bad dinner when our waiter cheerfully described the "special" as baked haddock, covered in Ritz cracker crumbs and white sauce. I had scampi, which consisted of a few overcooked shrimp thrown on top of a pile of undercooked pasta. Thank goodness for the stale, days-old white wine to wash it down!

The Landing restaurant in Kennebunkport, as seen from the bridge:


Strangely enough, I didn't eat any lobster while I was in Maine:


The next morning we drove down to Newburyport, Rockport, and Gloucester. Rockport was absolutely stunning. I couldn't believe how small the harbour was. It was absolutely jam-packed with working fish boats. The art colony north of the harbour was also fantastic. Bob and I were more interested in taking photos than shopping, though.

View of the tight harbour entrance:


Rusting anchor and fish boat:


Dories tied to the dock:


Fish boats at anchor in the harbour:


Bear Skin Neck, where the art colony is located:


Old fishermen's huts converted into art stores:


Colorful lobster trap floats outside of a store:


Kayaks for rent:


Historic notice on the side of a house:


Another view of Rockport Harbour:


One of the quaint alleys:


Fishermen's huts converted into houses:


There was an exceedingly low tide that day:


From Rockport we drove to Gloucester. Our only stop was at the Fishermen's Memorial. It was a gray and rainy day, which seemed quite appropriate. Gloucester is perhaps most famous as the port from which the crew of the Andrea Gail sailed in 1991 and encountered a "perfect storm". The book "The Perfect Storm", which described the storm and the events leading up to the loss of the Andrea Gail, was made into a movie in 2000.

Fishermen's Memorial in Gloucester:


Fishermen's Memorial plaque:


The crew of the Andrea Gail:


Once back in Boston I attended to business. I also squeezed in a quick visit with a couple that Simone and Bruce met on a cycling tour in France this summer. Brenda and Maggie picked me up at the Braintree station on the red line of the T and took me for lunch at Jake's in Hull. They also took me for a drive around Hull to see some of the sights, before dropping me off at the ferry terminal in Quincy, where I caught the fast ferry back into Boston.

Jake's restaurant:


Brenda and Maggie:


View of Quincy from the fast ferry:


Entering Boston Harbour on the ferry:



Back in Boston, I wandered around the harbour and then struck out for Chinatown. I found a restaurant that had a good soup selection. I tried ordering food in Mandarin for the first time, with limited success. I also asked for directions to the washroom after dinner and got "turned over" to a senior waiter because my waiter didn't know what the hell I was saying.

After visiting the loo, I asked the senior waiter what I'd said wrong. I guess I was using the European term "water closet" instead of the American term "restroom". When I asked how to say restroom, he launched into a string of Mandarin that made my eyes glaze over. I think he said "gonggongchangsuohuojiguanneifusheguanxi". That's what shows up in my e-dictionary when I type in "restroom". Try saying that when you've got your legs crossed and you're hopping up and down! I'm going to have to ask my Mandarin tutor, Jack, if there's an shorter word that I can use!

An entrance to the State subway station:


The Friendship Arch at the entrance to Chinatown:


So, that was my visit to Boston and Maine. Short, sweet, and educational!

Monday, August 18, 2008 - GULF ISLANDS

I just returned from a 3-day kayaking tour of the Gulf Islands. It was arranged through the Women's Travel Club at Totem Travel. I don't normally do "women only" tours but this one looked interesting. My sister Simone even agreed to go - and she hates camping!

We mustered at the Sealegs Kayaking center at Transfer Beach in Ladysmith. I was surprised at how old some of the women were. Half of the group were in their 30s and 40s and the other half were 55 and over. Some of the older women looked quite fit and confident while others...um, didn't.

The Sealegs Kayaking staff fitted us for PFDs and then inspected our baggage. They made quite a few of the older women move their belongings into dry bags. (One woman brought luggage, can you believe that?!?) A van arrived and transported us to a beach north of Ladysmith, where the kayaks were pulled up onto the beach and the rest of the Sealegs staff were busy packing supplies into the kayaks.

Loading the kayaks was a bit confusing. The owner of Sealegs Kayaking, Bud, said in a half-jokey voice that we might have to leave some of our stuff behind if it didn't fit into the kayaks. He made it clear that the camp supplied were more important than our gear. I thought he was joking, then saw how much stuff had to be loaded into the kayaks that I realized he was serious. Luckily we managed to get everyone's stuff into the 'yaks - phew!

Simone and I shared a 2-person kayak. It was quite heavy - we were loaded down with equipment - but glided through the water quite nicely. We paddled from the beach to Ruxton Island, where we had a "float break". From there we paddled down to De Courcey Island. We pulled into Pirate's Cove on De Courcey for lunch.

Simone in ze kayak:


Lunch was Greek salad, chicken, potato chips - my favorite! - hummous and pita, etc. Yum. We tried to help set up and serve the food but the Sealegs guides chased us away. After lunch we had a long paddle over to Valdez Island. We pulled in to our campsite at Blackberry Point around 4pm.

Fantastic rock formations on De Courcey Island:


The Sealegs guides set up the kitchen in less then 30 minutes and set about making dinner. The rest of us paired off and set up our tents. They had 3-person and 4-person tents so that meant sharing. Simone and I hooked up with Donna, who I met on the Tunisia tour. An older woman named Sam asked to share the tent as well. We agreed but it made things quite tight inside.

The outhouse, get it?:


Dinner was a gorgeous shrimp and veggie stir fry, followed by cake for dessert. I tell you, they fed us well! A lot of us broke out bottles of wine at "wine-thirty". On the advice of an experienced kayaker at work I'd packed a "bag" of wine - you buy a box of wine and then pull out the bag inside. It packs into small spaces, is flexible, and when you're done you don't have to haul back empty bottles. Genius!

After dinner Crazy Pete showed up. Bud had earlier explained that Crazy Pete was a guy who'd been living in the Gulf Islands for the past 30 years. He was a bit of a vagabond, camping illegally, getting evicted from one island or another, and collecting a suspicious variety and amount of stuff that he sold every now and then to make money. I found him really interesting and we talked about everything from raccoons to marine legal rights to herbal remedies. Everyone else in our group avoided Crazy Pete, which was fine by me because it meant I got Pete all to myself! He told a few tall tales, but there was a surprising amount of truth in what he said.

Chevy, Crazy Pete's fetch-loving dog:


No one slept well that night. Sam was a snorer and had wicked bad sleep apnea. Also, we managed to set up our tent on a slope so everyone was fighting gravity. For me, the worst part was the bump under my back. I couldn't sleep on my back because the bump would over-extend my spine and I'd get back spasms. I couldn't sleep on my side because the bump would force my spine into some kind of wicked scoliosis curvature. I resorted to sleeping on my stomach, but that meant cranking my neck to the side.

Breakfast was eggs, pea-meal bacon (yum!), yoghurt, and fruit. After breakfast the guides had a confab and suggested that we stay in camp for the morning to conserve energy and go out kayaking in the afternoon. As a substitute for the morning kayaking they proposed a full moon kayak at night. Everyone thought that was a good idea.

Some people went for a hike that morning. Others lounged on the beach. The guides helped Sam set up a small tent just for herself, which put her at ease and made Donna, Simone, and I very happy. I roamed around aimlessly and then finally went into the tent to lie down and see if I could catch some extra winks. It was really hot so I didn't sleep, but lying down did help me relax and recoup some energy.

Kathy lounging on the beach:


Seastars were abundant along the beach:


For our afternoon kayak trip we paddled down to Shingle Point, which is native reserve land and technically off-limits, but it was common for people to go there for picnics and suchlike. We paddled past Shingle Point and south to another beach, where we stopped for a break. A lot of people went swimming. The beach was lined with blackberry bushes so there was a lot of blackberry picking going on as well.

The beach just past Shingle Point:


Sam being Sam:


Back at base camp, the guides cooked up another fabulous dinner. I got into the wine a bit and remember having some hilarious slurry conversations. After everyone departed for the full moon kayaking trip I happily trotted off to the tent and went to sleep. I don't even remember Donna and Simone coming into the tent. Unfortunately I snored until around midnight, which made it hard for them to fall asleep.

Breakfast was superb once again. After that we all broke down our tents and started packing our dry bags for the return trip. The guides broke down the camp kitchen and started loading the kayaks. We were ready to leave by 10am.

Left to right: Joanne, Brendan, me, Colleen, Kathy, Sam, ?, Carolyn, Marilyn, Simone, Donna, Sally, ?, Anne-Marie, ?, Ericka, Lauren, and Chevy pleading for more fetch:


We paddled from Valdez Island to Thetis Island, stopping mid-route for a water break. On Thetis we went into a very shallow cove that was full of eel grass and sea cucumbers. The guides pulled up a couple of sea cucumbers for us to marvel at. Simone gave the guides an impromptu lecture on sea cucumbers and the importance of the eel grass as a nursery for sea life.

After visiting the shallow cove we paddled around to a rock beach where we pulled up the kayaks and the guides prepared lunch. I was tired so I stretched out my PFD and laid down on it - I know, I know, you're not supposed to do that but I was tired! I managed to catch a bit of shut eye, waking up only when the guides got into a wickedly funny debate about the best way to dispose of human "scat". The preferred method seemed to be the "shit put", or pooping onto a bit of wood and then flinging the poop into the ocean or the woods.

After lunch we embarked on our longest paddle, from Thetis to Ladysmith Harbour. We were asked to travel in a much tighter group because of the prevalance of marine traffic. We got to ride a couple of wakes, which was fun, but most boats slowed down as they passed so they didn't cast such a big wake into our group.

We pulled up onto Shell Beach, just opposite Transfer Beach, for a rest. We were quite the sensation with the other beach-goers when we pulled up in our 13 kayaks! The guides had a swim and then lay down on the beach for a rest. They were clearly tired after waiting on us hand and foot for three days! I sat apart from the group, enjoying a bit of alone time. After 30 minutes or so we got back into our kayaks and headed for Transfer Beach.

Shell Beach rest stop:


Kalvin and Brendan resting up on Shell Beach:


There wasn't much shoreline at Transfer Beach because the tide was high, so we could only beach two or three kayaks at a time. The Sealegs Kayaking folks carried the kayaks up the steps to the grass, and asked us to help unpack the kayaks. Sealegs gear went into one pile while our gear went into another pile. Simone and I recovered our gear fairly quickly and hit the road, eager to get home, shower, and go to sleep! The trip home was mercifully quick with just one point of congestion on the Malahat. I had a good long shower, a bit to eat, took two Ibuprofin and hit the sack by 7:30pm. What a trip!

Sunday, April 20, 2008 - VICTORIA

We arrived home late Friday afternoon and stayed up until 8:30pm in the hopes of sleeping through the night. I woke up around 2:30am with a growling stomach and a great desire to start the day. I gave in and got up at 3:00am, hoping not to wake up Mom, but discovered that she was also awake. We had coffee and then Mom unpacked. I was starving so I made soup and then watched a bit of TV. We went back to bed around 5:30am and slept until mid-morning.

Today we woke up at 6:00am, so we seem to be back to the correct sleeping schedule. I was ready for dinner as soon as I woke up, though, so it looks like it'll take a little longer to get my stomach back on track.

I was reading my blog this morning and I realized that I was very factual, which is kind of boring. So, here are some of the lighter moments and observations from the trip:

It isn't as bad as Asia, but ... driving any vehicle in Tunisia requires equal mixtures of balls and precision.

You need an advanced degree in jaywalking ... to cross Tunisian roads safely. The traffic rarely lets up so you have to get halfway across the road then wait as cars whiz by on either side for an opportunity to complete the crossing.

Tunisian wine is dreck ... but you're lucky to get it in a Muslim country. The waiters in the hotels carefully pour a bit of wine into your glass for you to sample, which is laughable because the wine always smells like industrial cleanser and tastes only marginally better.

When it's 30 degrees outside ... it's still considered winter. The "air conditioning" units in Tunisian hotels blast hot air into rooms from October to April. At the beginning of May the system is cleaned out and configured to distribute cold air. We didn't learn this until the third or fourth hotel, of course, which meant a lot of unnecessarily sweaty nights.

There are almost no public toilets in Tunisia ... so at some point it is necessary to walk into a cafe full of men and ask the owner if you can use the loo. This request is met with smirks. You understand why when you're hovering over the cracked and dirty bowl. Toilet paper is rarely available so you need to get used to drip-drying. Tunisians actually think that toilet paper is a very dirty way to clean your bottom bits and prefer to hose themselves down instead. So, cafe toilets are often very swampy.

To Tunisians, there is only one province in Canada ... Quebec. So many tourists from Quebec visit Tunisia that when you say you're Canadian, the natural response is "Ah, Quebec!"

There is a definite hawker lingo ... including the opening bid "How much for this bouche-bouche in Canada?" Don't bother asking what a bouche-bouche is, because it doesn't matter. The key objective is to get you to look at something. Don't believe a hawker who says he won't bother you and that you can look "slowly slowly". Run away from the hawker who says he won't "eat you" and makes biting motions with his hand. One of the funniest hawkers was in Hammamet. He'd been spending a little too much time with English tourists, because when I walked past his shop without looking he called me a "cheeky monkey" and then said "I can't believe my bloody eyes" in a very heavy Arabic accent.

Elevators in Tunisia don't have sensors ... so don't shove your arms or legs into a closing door. The door just closes on your limb(s) and stays closed. You have to press the up or down button again to get the door to open.

There's so much more, but these are the best bits. I wish I could record everything but unfortunately we don't have the technology for brain-blog transfers at the moment.

Until the next trip...

Thursday, April 17, 2008 - PARIS

We arrived in Paris around 3:30pm. We got through security with no problem, but had trouble finding the gate where we were supposed to catch a shuttle to our hotel. We did eventually find the correct gate and the shuttle arrived in due time, but the shuttle driver was obviously flustered at the prospect of picking up 16 people at one stop, not to mention loading all of their damned luggage.

We only had 30 minutes to check into the hotel and freshen up because a van was supposed to pick us up shortly and take us on a tour of Paris. Everyone made it to the lobby by the requested time and began studying maps of downtown Paris in anticipation of a night on the town.

An hour later it was clear that we'd been scammed. The van didn't show up, the tour business wasn't listed in the telephone directory, and the hotel staff said that our tour vouchers looked fake.

Cheryle, who had arranged the tour, was obviously devastated. She canvassed the group to see who wanted to go into town on their own steam for a self-guided tour. More than half said they'd do it, so she arranged for a cab.

Mom and I stayed at the hotel and enjoyed a quiet dinner in the pub. After dinner we went to our room to watch TV but the only English channel was BBC and the only subject they seemed to be covering that night was the Poop's visit to the US. So, we shut off the TV and I played a DVD on my laptop instead. Mom fell asleep halfway through the DVD. I watched a bit more but turned it off and turned in early.

The next morning we learned that the people who'd gone into Paris were scammed once again. The cab that took them into town charged EUR$125 for the trip. When Cheryle asked if the cab driver could return at 10:00pm to pick the group up and return them to the hotel, he agreed but asked for a EUR$50 deposit, which he was given.

At 10:00pm the group showed up at the designated pick-up location, but no cab. After 45 minutes of waiting in vain for the cabbie to show up, the group hailed two cabs and headed back to the hotel. Surprisingly, the cost of the two cab fares, added together, was less than the EUR$125 fare the original cabbie charged for the trip into town. Sigh.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008 - HAMMAMET

We tried to sleep in this morning but couldn't. After two weeks of 6:30am wake-up calls and 8:00am departures, out bodies we trained to get up and go.

After breakfast we met with the tour representative. We provided some feedback on the trip and she gave us some suggestions about how to spend our free day at the hotel, around Yasmine Hammamet, and in the town of Hammamet.

Seven of us decided to catch cabs into Hammamet to tour the medina and the harbor. It's a good thing we'd been "in country" for two weeks because the hawkers in the medina were the most aggressive we'd encountered on the trip. We ran into an English family in one of the alleys and their two girls were clearly terrified of the hawkers. We stopped to talk for a few minutes until they'd calmed down and then ran a bit of interference as they exited the alley.

I was hoping to find a silver shop that the tour representative had mentioned. We asked a local vendor to point out the shop but she took us to a relatives' shop instead. He locked us into the tiny shop, explaining that he had fake watches and could get shut down by the police if they caught him. He tried to sell us a few things but we ended up leaving without buying anything. We literally had to unlock the door ourselves to escape.

We did find the silver shop near the end of our time at the medina. It was an oasis of calm. The owner and his son/shop assistant were there watching Tunisian soap operas. They welcomed us but left us alone to shop. If we asked for a price he provided it then went back to his desk. I wanted to buy everything I saw but couldn't afford it. I ended up borrowing some dinar from Tamara so I could buy something for my sister, but left empty-handed myself.

We had lunch at a restaurant outside the medina before catching the tourist train back to Yasmine Hammamet. The train was hilarious. We were seated in the last car and it kept swinging wildly to the left and right as the driver sped through the small streets. We'd also bounce off our seats at every speed bump. There were no seat belts or safety gear which added an element of excited fear to the trip.

We kept a low profile for the rest of the afternoon. Dinner was a low-key affair because we knew we had an early departure the next day.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008 - HAMMAMET

Our first stop this morning was the Roman amphitheater at El Jem. It's smaller than the Colliseum in Rome, but according to Mom it's more impressive. Parts of the amphitheater are partially restored so you can climb up to the top ramparts. You can also go underneath the amphitheater floor to see the rooms where animals and people were kept and the ramps they used to move them up to the surface for fights.

Views of the amphitheater at El Jem:












It wasn't on the itinerary but we also visited the museum of El Jem. It had the most amazing mosaics and backed onto the ruins of the old town. Like most of the museums we've visited in Tunisia, the museum at El Jem didn't contain any household or personal items recovered from the site. It's like they're not important enough to display. Either that or they were ransacked and are not available. It's sad because I always find the household and personal items the most fascinating.

From there we drove to Monastir, had lunch, and then toured the ancient fortress called the Ribat. I'd left my camera on the bus during lunch and didn't have it with me at the Ribat, which is too bad because it was really amazing. The highlight was climbing the narrow circular staircase of the watchtower to get a 360 degree view of the surrounding area.

Outside the Ribat:


We walked from the Ribat to Bourguiba's Mausoleum. Bourguiba led the country to independence in the 1950s. Three generations of his family are buried at the mausoleum, which tool over 30 years to build. It was beautiful, but also a little creepy.

Views of Bourguiba's Mausoleum:







Our next stop was the "prix fixe" tourist store in Sousse. Many of the ladies in the tour had complained that they didn't have enough time to shop, so Mohamed added a shopping stop in Sousse to the agenda. I could have done without it - imagine four floors of camel teddy bears, 6' tall houkhas, brass plates with camels on them, stinky perfumes, Tunisia t-shirts, ugly knock-off purses, gaudy scarves and dresses, and cheap rugs. I spent most of my time outside in the traditional medina fighting off the hawkers.

Our final stop before the hotel was a marina on the outskirts of Sousse. A few people walked to the marina but a large group of us followed Mohamed to the local supermarket to buy dates, harissa, olives, capers, and booze. It was the best decision, apparently - we learned afterwards that the hawkers at the marina were particularly aggressive and foul-mouthed.

Our hotel was located in the tourist area of Hammamet called Yasmine Hammamet. Some of the hotels in the strip have Vegas-style themes. One of them had a truly ugly Aladdin/Arabian Nights theme and we were happily mocking it, thinking we were going to stay in a classy hotel, when Sharif turned the bus into the entrance. Egads!

The entrance to the Lella Baya:


So, yes, we stayed in the ugly Vegas-themed Lella Baya hotel. In the rafters Aladdin was riding his magic carpet and below were belly dancer mannequins. You could sit and smoke sheesha from garish houkhas in the bar. Outside, next to the pool, was a South Pacific-style tiki bar. Go figure. I've included some pictures but they really don't do the garishness justice. As I said at the time, the owners paid a lot of money to make the hotel so ugly.

Inside the Lella Baya and the view of the pool from our room: