Tag: security

Flying from Ottawa to Portland: My Travel Experience

July 3, 2024

Although some people are used to flying and to the hurly-burly of moving through airports, I found it a pain in the butt flying from Ottawa, ON, to Vancouver, BC, and then to Portland, OR, and back. The entire experience, especially clearing security, which I found a bracing experience, only reinforced my dislike for flying.

Preparations for our flight started a few days before departure. I set the alarm clock for four a.m. to get used to an early start. I wanted to make sure the alarm clock worked, and it did. Such an early morning start is not my typical schedule.

I reserved a taxi to take us to the airport the night before but was worried about what would happen if it did not come. In that case, I thought of taking our car to the long-term parking lot and hauling our suitcases a mile to the airport. But the taxi came and messaged me fifteen minutes before the reserved time that it was on the way and again when parked on our driveway. Impressive.

Leaving our house involves shutting off the water main in case of a leak that may flood the basement and installing the alarm system. Since I did not want to carry my heavy keychain on the trip, I left a key hidden in the garage but also put a house key in my wallet in case the electricity would be off coming home, making the garage door inoperable, in which case I would use the key in my wallet to open the front door of the house. I think of all the situations that could go wrong; maybe I am paranoid.

Arriving at the departure lounge, I showed the airline attendant our boarding passes, printed at home, and asked what we needed to do next. She asked if we wanted to use the self-serve kiosks or talk to someone to get our luggage tags. I found her question strange: why would she not just help us? She seemed as if she did not want to be bothered by passengers before six am. However, hearing our conversation, a colleague quickly came forward and offered help with a smile.

After this rude welcome, though, the airline attendants were excellent during the rest of the trip, including subsequent legs with the same airline. For example, when paying for a sandwich on the plane, the stewardess noticed my Aeroplan card in my wallet and recorded the card number for the purchase, adding points to my account.

Next came the security check. I hate putting my wallet and passport on the long conveyor belt, afraid of losing or someone stealing them, which could happen when they pat me down looking for the metal in my body. I usually point to my hips, where I had joint replacements, to help security staff locate the metal. I know there is no need to do that since they use a wand to pat down my entire body, but I feel better by trying to help them. I walked through the x-ray machine, and an agent patted me down with a wand for fifteen minutes. Then, he asked me to lean against the wall and lift my shoes’ soles for visual inspection.

In contrast, the security check was more detailed on the trip’s second leg from Vancouver to Portland. The inspectors opened my carry-on suitcase, and my “Kindle” enjoyed a second trip through the X-ray machine. I always place my laptop in a basket, but they told me at the Ottawa airport that I did not have to take out my Kindle and put it in a basket since it only has a virtual keyboard! Then, they also removed my toiletry case, extracted a Swiss knife and a brand-new shaving foam container, and confiscated both items; I should have known not to carry them in the carry-on. They also asked me to remove my shoes and belt.

Instead of the walk-through X-ray machine at the Vancouver airport, I stepped into a surround X-ray machine that showed all the metal inside me to security so the inspectors did not pat me down. That saved over fifteen minutes. The only uncomfortable feeling I had was my pants were sliding off without the belt; I had to pull them up every few minutes.

The two experiences made me consider whether the security procedure is the same at every airport. I would bet that it is a standard procedure, except that its administration was different: the security was sloppy in Ottawa.

Do not get me wrong; I understand the need for security, but how it is delivered seems to invade your privacy. The inspectors see your meds and toiletries, which I may not want to share with anyone. It also takes time, and I am nervous about having my wallet and passport on the conveyor belt for a considerable amount of time while they x-ray me.

Having gone through security, we walked into the waiting room, the next phase of air travel that often brings unpleasant surprises, such as an announcement of a delay on one of our flights on our return trip. The uncertainty and waiting can be frustrating, adding to my dislike of flying.

On arrival, we had to find the baggage claim area. For some reason, the baggage claim area was the farthest from the landing gates at both the Vancouver and Portland airports.

Reflecting on our recent experience of how long it takes to get to the airport, go through security, experience delayed departures, wait for baggage pickup at the destination, and then grab a cab to where we stay, I would rather drive for shorter trips. The convenience and control of driving often outweigh the hassles of flying unless it is a cross-country trip.

Entering our Apartment in Aix-en-Provence

October 9, 2023

Talk about security! I thought we would get a key from a receptionist and go to our room in a hotel. Not so. We were registered at Les Suites  Du Cours in Aix-en-Provence, which we thought was a hotel – but discovered later that in Aix, at least, a hotel is a type of townhouse in the center of the old city, they used to be houses of the wealthy. Our hotel room turned out to be an apartment.

Let me start in the beginning when we received instructions on how to access our “self-registration” where we would be staying tonight. Although we had the street address, the instructions on how to enter our accommodation from the travel agent came the day Kathy drove from St. Remy to Aix-en-Provence, about an hour’s drive.

I was surprised; I expected a hotel with a lobby and a receptionist. Not so. We received an algorithm on how to enter this place via ten successive emails that mirrored a five-page manual on entering this place, the latter also sent via email!

Challenged by digital codes and fobs and keys in the instructions, I was apprehensive about our arrival; what if we could not follow the instructions and were left on the street with no receptionist? Although we had a phone number, what if they do not work at night or not at home? And would my French be good enough to communicate with them?

When we arrived at the address with two backpacks, after being lost for three hours, we faced a large, ornamental door, shown in a picture on the five-page instruction manual. The door at our address was in the middle of outdoor cafes, with people occupying all the tables, oblivious to the new arrivals.

So, we started by punching in the four-digit code to open the ten-foot-high historical, ornamental, heavy door; it clicked and we pushed it inwards. The door was very heavy with springs so strong that I had to lean into it to keep it open. Total darkness awaited us inside the twenty-foot-long vestibule, and I fumbled to find a light switch, indicated by three lighted dots on the wall ten feet away from us. We searched for the mailboxes, as instructed, opened the door, and looked up the next code to open the number 5 mailbox, our apartment number. We punched another four-digit code a few times with no success until I realized that the star after the four digits was part of the code and not the end of the instructions. Two sets of keys fell out of the mailbox for our next set of doors.

A fob was attached to both sets of keys and one of the fobs opened the next door, leading to the staircase and the elevator. This part of the building was also totally in darkness but by now we knew to look for the light switch. With only our backpacks, we decided to walk up the stairs instead of using the elevator even though the twenty-foot ceiling made the stairs long. The instructions were that only one person and a suitcase could be in the elevator at one time, and yet another key to use it. At any rate, our apartment was only on the second floor, we reasoned, and Kathy was worried she might get stuck in the ancient elevator.

Having reached the second floor, we tried to use the old-fashioned elaborately molded key to open the large, ten-foot-high ornamental door. We were tired and the key was obstreperous, it would not work. I was unsure whether I put it in the right manner and twisted it around in all directions. Finally, I banged on the door in frustration, expecting someone to be around to help us or tell us to get out of there but nothing happened.

Then the realization struck us that in France, the second floor is actually on the third level. The ground or first floor is the “rez-de-chaussee”. So, we hauled our baggage up to the next floor in the dark again since the lights worked for a short time only and we had to find the next switch on the next level. This time the old key worked. Finally, we arrived in our “hallway”, but it was pitch black again, and fumbled in the dark to find a switch.

In this hallway, several double doors faced us which, I thought would lead us to the kitchen, bedroom, etc. I heard voices behind one of the doors so I went there and burst in to let the intruders know that we reserved this unit. American voices greeted us in a friendly tone, and they said that they had reserved this unit for five days and our apartment must be behind another door opening from the “hallway”.

Three apartment units opened from this hallway and we, apparently, reserved one of these but we did not see numbers to indicate which one. Each unit had a set of double doors in front of the locked door units themselves – the unit number itself was a small number on the inner door, not visible from the hallway. The ornamental double doors, we speculated, were probably the original doors to be kept for historical purposes, and the inner doors, where our keys worked, were modern, lockable ones.

I was embarrassed for bursting in on the American visitors, apologized, and went to another door in the hallway where one of the keys on the second set of keys worked. Finally, we arrived at our apartment. The “hallway” served three apartments; I mistook the word hallway for our apartment’s lobby.

Once we settled into our bright place, we engaged in a friendly discussion with the neighbors and imbibed a glass of wine to calm our frazzled nerves, I reflected on the amount of security installed here. We needed two digital codes, a fob, and two keys to enter our apartment! Was this necessary? Is this overkill? Is the crime rate in France high? I did not know. But I thought the five barriers to mount to enter an apartment were beyond the pale. But perhaps when you get used to this system, it becomes simple. At any rate, we felt secure to leave our passports in the room when venturing outside.

Now you might think this entrance to occupy your hotel/apartment was frustrating, irritating and unnecessary. It was. But at the same time, to me, it was a puzzle to solve. It was fun. I used to do sudoku and now I do wordle. The satisfaction of solving puzzles was similar to solving this real-life puzzle to get into our accommodation.