Tag: Travel

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.

Opening the Cottage

May 24, 2024

When I started walking to the boat, the president of the cottagers’ association stood at the edge of the marina parking lot with his huge dog, a malamut. He said they missed us at the pancake breakfast the day before. Instead of saying we never intended to attend, I said we were busy. He and the association have been advocating for a revised constitution, a subject with no interest to me but likely to be brought up during breakfast. The president is an earnest fellow working hard at being president, and I did not want to hurt his feelings. It takes a lot of work to revise a constitution. Preparing a pancake breakfast is also an ambitious undertaking for a group, giving him credit.

When the president’s boat arrived to return him to his cottage on the island, we went to our boat. The starting engine sputtered for a while, warming up. The battery in the boat usually runs down in a few weeks unless it starts up every few days, and our boat must have been in the water for weeks without running. The ride to the cottage was relaxing on the quiet water, allowing us to reacquaint ourselves with the cottages and the small islands along the way.

Arriving at the cottage dock, I did a quick double-take, seeing the floating dock paralleling the shoreline instead of being perpendicular to it. Docks are usually positioned like fingers reaching out into the lake, where the water is deeper than at the shore. There was no question in my mind that the dock floated sideways, moved by some storm, losing its anchors at the deep end. I knew then that my first task would be to fix the dock after landing.

 But surprises never come in single doses; inside the cottage, we came upon stacks of mice poo in the kitchen and storage areas where we leave cans and dry goods over the winter. We do not usually get mice over the winter at our cottage; we leave mice poison in the Fall. But one year out of ten, we get a mouse invasion.

Cleaning up mice poo called for a hand-held vacuum. Although we had one, we remembered that it died last year. So instead of sweeping the poo off the counters, we decided to wait until the next time we came out with a new vacuum. This is an example of the disadvantages of island property; one has to boat back to the mainland for items missing on an island.

While Kathy took the covers off the beds and chairs, I put on my bathing suit and goggles and went down to fix the dock. I paid a local handyman to take the floating dock to a quiet bay for the winter and return it in the spring. Whoever brought the dock back this time tied it up with one concrete block at the deep end, which did not have enough weight in our lake, protecting against the three-foot waves rolling against the shoreline in stormy weather.

 I dove into the fresh but bearable water to look for the tires that I filled with concrete to serve as weights, but I had no success. I’ll have to look again next time; there is no way the current would have pushed the two-hundred-pound weights far away. In the meantime, I pulled the single concrete block out to the deeper water, hoping no storm would materialize for a week, pushing the dock back to the shore.

After my swim fixing the dock, I joined Kathy at the cottage, and beyond the mice invasion, the cottage was clean. It was time to relax and eat or drink something, but there was nothing for lunch since we had just come up for a day to do some reconnaissance. Then I remembered the alcoholic beverages that we left there for the winter. Our American neighbor from New Jersey left me his special edition bourbon he made in Kentucky with his friends in 2022. It is a bottle of Maker’s Mark, Private Selection, called “Bobby’s Garage.” The name is from his garage, where he and his friends exercise every morning. It was the best ounce of bourbon I had ever tasted, especially after diving into the lake and fixing the dock.

While enjoying the drink, I called my neighbor two lots away to find out how the pancake breakfast went; I knew they had attended. Instead of answering me, she invited us for a glass of wine. An offer too good to pass up, but before visiting, I decided to sweep the decks clear of leaves and take the covers off the Adirondack chairs outside.

While I worked outside, Kathy grilled some chicken for a light dinner later. By five o’clock, we were ready to see our neighbors. They said perhaps fifteen people attended the breakfast; I thought that represented less than ten cottages out of the one hundred on the island. I felt sorry for the organizers for doing so much work for so few people.

It was time to leave, and armed with a list of items to bring back next time, we started the boat, and it sputtered again. I made a mental note to call the marina next week and ask if something is wrong with the fuel line.

Exploring North Carolina: Vineyards, Memories, and Family

May 15, 2024

Sitting in the sun, shaded partly by an umbrella at Shelton’s vineyard in North Carolina, was hugely relaxing. Helping the relaxation was the Cabernet Sauvignon that we sipped. The food was average: pulled pork on an open sandwich base, or perhaps it was a pizza. I am not sure, but it tasted like pub food, appropriate in the setting.

Driving away from the lush meadows of the Yadkin Valley where Shelton’s grows its grapes, my thoughts turned towards the many times we visited North Carolina over the last few decades, and my memory lane took me back to the first time I drove to Chapel Hill, NC.

That was when the Dean of the Graduate School of City Planning welcomed me with an open smile; Jack Parker welcomed each planning student. His intimate reception touched me, and he generated a feeling that I’d succeed in my studies. It was a competitive program, but I have known no one who failed. The UNC Planning School admitted me for the January session; I applied to many other Ivy League schools, but UNC took me mid-year, and I accepted the offer, not waiting for the other schools to respond. But let me explain how I decided to attend planning school.

After graduating from the School of Architecture at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, Canada, I worked with a small architectural firm in Vancouver. I lasted six months before getting bored with mundane designs of lobbies for high-rise buildings put up by developers. Another job with an even smaller firm was more interesting: designing a recreation center for a specific location in Vancouver. This project came about as a request for proposals for a competition our firm did not win.

After my brief experience with two architectural firms, I decided that I did not fit the mold of an architect. Architecture envisions plenty of attractive and well-appointed living spaces unavailable for most people worldwide. Architecture is irrelevant to people who have no choice but to tolerate less attractive environments. So, that was the impetus for me to search for a new field of endeavor. City planning appeared to be a related field, so I started applying to graduate planning schools in the fall, which is how I ended up in Chapel Hill in January.

When I arrived, I felt I was in paradise, experiencing southern hospitality and the positive energy generated by, and friendships made with, the planning students. Living at a campus-type university was another positive for me; UBC was a city university where moststudents lived off-campus. In contrast, campus life at UNC was rich with lectures and performances I could attend. For example, at the annual Jubilee Music Festival in the spring, I listened to Johnny Cash while sitting with thousands of students on the ground of the quadrangle. It was a memorable concert. 

Another primary reason North Carolina holds deep memories is that I spent considerable time with my future wife during our second year there. Although we met in Washington, DC, where we both had summer jobs, upon returning to UNC for our second year, we saw each other daily, starting with breakfast in thestudent dining room,Lenoir Hall, when it cost forty cents. And we spent many evenings talking late into the night at the Rathskeller, a student pub in Chapel Hill. We married at year’s end at the Anglican Church on the campus with family and all my classmates in attendance. The audience had a big laugh when the newlyweds left in the car with a colossal ruckus created by the rocks my friends put into the hubcaps of our vehicle.

A career launch and meeting my lifelong partner provide deep roots in North Carolina. But there is more to it. Our three children applied to US universities after finishing high school in Ontario. Although they did get into Canadian universities, they thought going to American schools would be more adventurous, perhaps influenced by their parent’s experience there. The upshot of their leaving Canada was that Tony and David attended UNC in Chapel Hill, while Megan graduated from Duke University in Durham.

They married after graduating from university; the two boys married North Carolina girls and settled in Charlotte and Durham. Further, Kathy’s brother, Huw, retired from Washington, DC to Winston-Salem, near where his wife had grown up. Our recent visits to North Carolina span from Charlotte to Winston-Salem to Durham, all of these locations along Interstate 40, within three hours of driving time.

Innumerable opportunities have existed to visit our children and their growing families in North Carolina, share a vacation, help them move, or see them. Over the years, I wore out several car tires along Interstate 81, driving from Ottawa to North Carolina. However, the visits have also provided opportunities to see the state and enjoy what it offers.

Huw and Judy introduced us to vineyards while driving around Wiinston-Salem. With the decay of the tobacco industry, growing grapes had taken over the rich agricultural soil. My attraction to visiting vineyards goes beyond sipping wines; they happen in areas with lush vegetation on rolling hills, with a lake and a fountain facing the tasting room.

Having visited Shelton’s vineyard, where the wine was tasty, but the food was not the best, we decided to visit Shadow Springs Vineyards with Huw and Judy on our last visit before returning to Ottawa. They do not have a restaurant, and since we do not sip wine without some food at lunchtime, we stopped at the Shiloh General Store in Hammondville to pick up a sandwich.

Amish people run the store, and the owner, Phil Graber, was on cash. I learned from him that the area has over fifty Amish families. Phil and his wife Mary established the store in the early 2000s and expanded it to over thirty-five hundred square feet. The store sells homemade products with fresh ingredients, such as pickled vegetables, dry soup mixes, Amish noodles, pretzels, and crackers.

They made a tasty sandwich for us. I found their order-taking fascinating. You choose on a piece of paper the type of bread, meat, spread, vegetables, and sides you want and place it in a window. Then, they prepare the sandwich and call your name. There was no limit on what you could ask for, and I thought, why not order pulled pork and chicken under meats? And low and behold, my sandwich had both meats!

Armed with our sandwich, we entered Shadow Springs’ tasting room. Judy selected a 2022 Seyval Blancand a2022 Chardonnay while we settled at a table on the lakefront, cranking up the umbrella to provide shade from the sun’s heat at midday. The chatty hostess in the tasting room described how Chuck Johnson, the owner, decided to retire from his corporate job to his home state and look for another career opportunity after missing too many of his son’s ball games. Chuck and his wife Mary went winetasting upon their return to NC and decided that winemaking might be an excellent opportunity for starting a new life. They looked at dozens of farms for sale until they found this piece of land with the proper orientation and soil qualities to make wine. They started making wine in 2005.

And we were not disappointed with their wines. We spent the two-hour lunch sipping wine in sunny weather, sitting outside with a huge fountain making a bubbling sound in the middle of the lake next to us. What a way to spend our last day in North Carolina before returning to Ottawa, where the trees were getting leafy.  

Family Spring Break Adventures in North Carolina

May 1, 2024

Our April spring break, a time for family and adventure, began at 5 p.m. on a Thursday in Ottawa. We embarked on a journey that would take us fifteen hours to North Carolina, with a stopover in Courtland, NY. This annual tradition of ours, filled with shared experiences, is one of many times we see our far-flung family annually.

The Red Roof Inn in Courtland had its own unique character. Despite the room being refurbished, there was no breakfast provided, not even a simple muffin or toast. This was a departure from the norm even in economy-priced hotels. However, this unexpected change had its benefits. It allowed us to start our day early, without any unnecessary morning delays.

Our spring break is also an excuse to leave Ottawa, which has snow and cold weather. Mind you, this year’s winter was the mildest in my memory, and getting away was not like escaping cabin fever; the first year we moved to Ottawa, the temperature never came above zero Fahrenheit in January, and going south in March was a treat.

Our first full day in North Carolina was filled with cultural and sporting activities. We attended a Jazz Musical Appreciation Adjudication event, where twenty-five high schools showcased their talent. Our granddaughter, Zinnia, plays the trombone with the Jazz Combo of the Jordan High School, her school participated in the event.

Millbrook High School, a magnet school in Raleigh hosted the event. I entered the building, and the music room immediately impressed me with all the electronic gear. Further in, a large, designed-for-acoustics auditorium sloped towards the stage where the bands played. I cannot recall this level of educational resources at the high schools our children attended.

Listening to the bands performing songs by Charlie Parker, Neal Hefti, Hoagy Carmicheal, and Bobby Timmons brought back memories of the music I listened to in the ’60s. Another classic one band played was Duke Ellington’s Satin Doll.

After the three songs Zinnia’s jazz combo played, it was time for the adjudicators to comment on their performance. In addition to an overview critique, they took the time to discuss the players’ techniques and delivery, offering valuable insights. One adjudicator, in particular, stood out. He had brought his trumpet along and demonstrated what some songs should sound like. The combo members listened intently and demonstrated their understanding by playing their instruments in the style recommended by the adjudicator.

We were in Raleigh for the event, although Dave lives in Durham; the entire area is part of what is called the Research Triangle Park (RTP) of North Carolina. It is interconnected by interstate highways 40 and 85. It boasts many well-known educational, recreational, and cultural facilities (such as Duke University, UNC, NC State University, Duke Gardens, and NC Botanical Garden). The area also boasts a professional hockey team, the Hurricanes, who play out of Raleigh, and top-notch college basketball teams – think of the perennial rival Duke and UNC teams.

A few decades ago, the RTP had a well-developed high-tech sector. Nortel was a significant employer in communications, along with Newbridge Networks, where I worked. I remember management telling us to be careful working on our computers on flights from Ottawa to Raleigh and not to reveal technical secrets should an employee of Nortel sit next to us. Those days, there were daily flights between Ottawa and Raleigh. Since then, Nortel has gone bankrupt, and Alcatel, the global communications company, bought up Newbridge.

My memories lingered until our grandson Zane, ten years of age, invited us to watch his ball team play in the afternoon. Preceding the game was a “slugfest” at Herndon Park. To participate in the slugfest, the boys on the ball team had to fundraise $200 each for the team, which entitled them to “hit” balls from a pitching machine a dozen times.

Curious parents wanted to know who I was and welcomed me enthusiastically, another body cheering for the boys. There might have been more family members enjoying the weather, the outdoors, and watching the slugfest than players. Everybody carried water bottles, and folding chairs sprang up to watch the boys slug it out. A highlight of the slugfest was picture-taking, with each player posing with a bat ready for action and team photos following.

A game followed the slugfest that unfortunately ended in a loss for our team. It did not matter for the cheering parents and siblings who kept up with loud encouragements of “good eye” and “you can do it.” One of the rules for this age group that I learned is that the umpire does not allow a new inning to start after an hour and forty-five minutes of play. I am not a baseball fan, but this rule is good because the rule limits the duration of the game. Although the parents were disappointed in the outcome, the boys were too tired to dwell on the loss and ended up with a smoothie.

Our activities in Durham were far from over. The next day, we stumbled upon the ‘American Tobacco Trail’ (ATT), a hidden gem in the city. Despite the drizzle, we were eager to experience this outdoor activity. The section of the ATT we walked on was a tree-lined corridor, where the tree canopy provided a cozy shelter from the rain. Our ball-player grandson, always full of energy, circled around us on roller skates while the rest of us enjoyed a leisurely walk. It was a delightful discovery, adding a new dimension to our trip.

The ATT is a rails-to-trails right-of-way for walkers, cyclists, and equestrians. The level and mostly straight twenty-two-mile trail has a ten-foot-wide paved surface. The trail’s history goes back to J.B. Duke, who founded the American Tobacco Company in 1890 and built railroads to serve tobacco facilities and plants in the area. The trucking industry superseded railroads, and the rail lines fell into disuse. 1980, the Triangle Rails to Trails Conservancy was formed to preserve the right-of-way for recreational uses. I found it a pretty trail, even in the rain.

Returning to Dave’s house, we changed out of our wet clothing and commented on the many attractions families can visit to enjoy the Research Triangle Park. It is not only the ATT that attracts walkers but also the North Carolina Botanical Gardens, situated next to the University of North Carolina campus, with lovely walking trails and endangered plant species on display. Our granddaughter Zinnia, familiar with the Gardens, guided us around the trails there. Families can also visit the Science Museum in Raleigh, where we took the grandchildren to see the Van Gogh traveling exhibit last year.

We met up with two of our granddaughters in Cary, located part way between Raleigh and Durham, for dinner; Caroline works in Raleigh and Mary Kate attends North Carolina State University in Raleigh.  While there we enjoyed the renovated center of Cary.   With young children, a visit to the park in the renovated center of Cary is a must; it has the most creative modern play structures I have ever seen. Although we spent only a few days in the Durham and Raleigh areas, the rich fabric of recreational and cultural facilities could keep a family busy for days.

Awkward Facts

April 17, 2024

The Covid crisis brought to my attention the Canadian Government’s recent flood of announcements to address the ‘housing crisis.’ To contextualize this ”crisis,” I delved into statistics. I discovered that sixty-five percent of Canadians own their homes (and therefore experience no housing crisis), and the income-to-house price ratio has skyrocketed over the last decade. This has created significant hurdles for young people, making stepping onto the property ladder increasingly tricky.

However, the billions of dollars announced to encourage home construction seem overkill. The demand for housing, which many studies concluded resulted from the recent surge in international migration, may be reduced by government policy, limiting future immigration flows. Mortgage rates may also come down soon, alleviating the need to solve a “crisis.” However, throwing vast amounts of money at a sudden “crisis,” which has evolved recently, reminded me of the pandemic’s beginning. Let me describe.

The Canadian Minister of Procurement ordered 419 million Covid vaccines at the pandemic’s onset, costing nine billion dollars. The experience of Italy and New York State with Covid was a stark reminder of the potential devastation without vaccines. However, with a population of 38 million people in 2020, Canadians would receive ten vaccines each. The Public Health Agency of Canada recommended two doses for vaccination and boosters every six months. So, the vaccines purchased would suffice for five years for all Canadians.

As a result of publicizing the dangers of Covid, over 80 percent of the population raced to get the first two shots. Although the vaccines kept coming, and booster shots were widely available, people decided that two vaccines were sufficient, and fewer and fewer people took a third or fourth dose. By the time the sixth shot, the XBB.1.5 Omicron subvariant designed to shore up protection against the SARS-COV-2 descendants came about in late 2023, only fifteen percent of the population decided to receive the dose.

By late 2023, people considered Covid more of a nuisance than a dangerous sickness, similar to having a cold. With all the vaccines ordered but not used, the British Medical Journal called Canada one of the most vaccine-hoarding countries in the world. The Director General of the World Health Organization, in 2022, remarked that Canada was hoarding vaccines at the expense of poorer nations. Of the over 400 million vaccines contracted, only 105 million were used by December 2023 in Canada.

It’s disheartening to note that policymakers seemed to overlook the fact that vaccines have expiration dates. They also seemed to disregard the reality that the virus mutates, necessitating the development of updated vaccines to maintain effectiveness. As a result, millions of doses expired and were unusable   However, the contracts for the original orders still have to be honored. For instance, Canada still owes C$350 million to Novavax, one of the vaccine manufacturers, for vaccines ordered. 

So, was Canada successful in avoiding Covid? Can we put some metrics to success? The Canadian experience with Covid indicates that Canada fared well among the G7 countries in handling the pandemic, with less than a thousand deaths per million people, second best after Japan. However, we did spend a significant amount of money, and much of it was wasted. It is astounding that Canada used only 25 percent of the vaccines purchased. I wonder if we could have been more agile and intelligent in our decision-making, considering people’s willingness to receive periodic shots over the years and the expiry dates of the millions of vaccines ordered.

I also wonder if the Government has learned anything from throwing so much money at the Covid issue that could be applied to their new “housing crisis ” so that Canada can avoid throwing good money away with minimal results.