11 May 2012

Argentina & Brazil, February 2012

We had two criteria for our honeymoon: that it be somewhere neither of us had ever been; and that it be a warm break from a frosty February. We had fallen in love listening and dancing to music, and thought Argentina and Brazil -- the lands of tango, samba, and bossa nova -- would be the perfect place to spend our honeymoon. We planned on spending the first half of the trip dotting around Argentina, from Buenos Aires to Patagonia to Mendoza, and the second half taking our time and combing our way along a 1000 km strip of Brazil's coastline from Florianopolis to Rio de Janeiro.
  • Buenos Aires - 3 days
  • Patagonia - 5 days, El Calafate, Perito Moreno Glacier, El Chalten, Los Glaciares National Park
  • Mendoza - 3 days
  • [Florianopolis & deportation - 2 days]
  • Iguazu - 4 days
  • Ilha Grande - 3 days
  • Rio de Janeiro - 3 days
Our three week holiday was like six independent trips satiating all our senses. Six wildly different landscapes, different climates, a wide range of cuisines from Amazonian fruit to Patogonic lamb, and everywhere warm people and music. People were unexpectedly approachable and welcoming, and though my Spanish is out-of-practice, everyone was patient enough to let us try. We talked with people about warm but corrupt countries vs. cold but responsible societies, life in Europe, competition between Latin American countries, and how much beauty there was in the world (but especially in Brazil).

We maintained an adventurous and zealous attitude throughout our trip, delighting in everything around us, even when things went wrong. It was so nice to experience the magic of travel again, after having become a bit too comfortable and blaze about travel over the last few years. This trip renewed my travel bug, filled my belly, warmed my heart, and twinkled my eyes.

Buenos Aires, Argentina
We stayed in San Telmo, a quaint cobble-stone neighbourhood that is home to street Tango dancing and a big public market on weekends. Our lovely apartment was on a dark, too-quiet street, but inside it was an oasis of light and water. We had a lovely courtyard with a breakfast table next to a small fountain, and on the roof we had lots of sunshine and patio furniture from which to enjoy it. Sadly, we had to leave on Saturday afternoon though, and missed the street parties.

We spent most of our time in Buenos Aires walking around, from San Telmo, through the university campus, along the waterfront (a converted industrial area, but still with quite harsh edges and a lack of vitality except along the university campus), around the central shopping areas, around the museum, graveyard and park area, and through Palermo. Buenos Aires has beautiful old trees lining its smaller streets, and coupled with its decaying colonial buildings, it's undeniably charming. But, while you could tell that Buenos Aires should be a beautiful city, most of Buenos Aires seemed liked it had been cut up by security fences, construction fences, and traffic. The fine-grained intimate areas were criss-crossed with noisy impenetrable boulevards, some of which seemed to be around 75 m in width, and there weren't many places to sit and take in the city.

The exception was Palermo. Palermo had a great quality of life, and each of its three sub-districts have their own character. We spent our time in Palermo sipping drinks on carefully-decorated roof terasses, each with its own design, shopping at boutique stores that each had their own quirky elaborate entrances or gardens out back. A street tree dressed in a knitted skirt around the length of its trunk, residents sitting on lawn chairs in the middle of the street, the "best steakhouse in Argentina", everyone beautiful and creative.

Patagonia, Argentina
Not only is Patagonia really far away from the rest of Argentina (3 days by car from Buenos Aires alone), it's also enormous once you get there. With some of the most dramatic, tempermental weather in the world. We decided to fly and rent a car for the best combination of convenience and freedom, and decided that with 5 days El Calafate and El Chalten were our best bets for sights.

El Calafate is a very tacky tourist town. The kind of tourist town where people are trying too hard to over-compensate with authenticity and "character", resulting in a mis-match of buldings carved out of narly tree branches, hung with indigenous art from Australia. Mostly El Chalten is an airport and bus station and a big super market, one hour's drive from a remarkable glacier and within a reasonable drive to a great National Park. We stayed long enough to rent some tents and sleeping bags, buy some groceries, get our bearings, and eat Patagonic lamb atop a cliff with a view of the lake.

Perito Moreno Glacier was very impressive though. As a Canadian, I felt like you could see comparable sites to Patagonia in the Canadian Rockies, but with much more wildlife in the Rockies. But I don't think we have anything in Canada that compares to P. Moreno Glacier. It's a glacier funelling into a L-shaped lake, and the result is an impressive ice wall many km long, many km wide, and many metres high. Every few years there is enough ice to totally separate the two sides of the lake (such as this winter while we were there), and when the ice starts to retreat and the lake water pressures on, it can create an massive breach which is well-worth seeing (but occured a few days after we left!). We took a boat to ride (a safe distance) along the towering ice wall of the glacier, and then wore clamp-ons and walked on some smooth parts of the glacier. A bit touristy? But to go all that way and only spend an hour watching the glacier seemed more wrong, and who could object to a boat ride? And our guide was a really interesting experimental musician who rewarded us with whiskey.

After a beautiful drive through dramatic, wind-scorched landscapes, we arrived in El Chalten the next day and decided to pop into Los Glaciares National Park's Information Centre because we couldn't find the road to the camp ground.

- Excuse me, where can we find the entrance to this road that leads to the base camp?
- Well, you park your car here, pack all of your gear and it's a 10 KM hike to the base camp, where you stay over night, then it's another 10KM hike to the next base camp, where you spend the second night, and then on the third day you climb to see Fitz Roy, but it's been covered in cloud all week.
- Ha ha ha. No seriously, where's the road to the base camp? We don't have bags or hiking shoes.

She was unimpressed. And she was out of trail maps.

We took a picture of the trail map on the wall, put on every sweater, touque, long-sleeved shirt, and pair of socks we could find, and packed up all the light food we had bought in El Calafate. Sorry Patagonic beer and Mendozan wine, you'll have to wait for our return.

The trail was not too difficult, but the weather was changing constantly. While you were walking uphill, you would get down to a T-shirt with blue skies overhead, but as you crested the pass you would freeze and see the dark dark clouds up ahead. It was like walking into certain hypothermia, with our hopes of seeing Fitz Roy dwindling the closer we got. And we looked so foolish with our improvised backpacks and sneakers compared to the hard core trekkers head-to-toe in their hard core trekking outfits, complete with hiking poles.

We spent the first evening at the base camp to Cerro Torre. Though the wind was strong enough to lift me, somehow it was not strong enough to lift the clouds. We recorded a happy birthday message for my wonderful mother over a dinner we cooked inside our tent, and fell asleep shivering, listening to the howling of the wind.

The next day we set off for Fitz Roy, again following the dark clouds. By the time we arrived at Fitz Roy's campsite, there was still no sign that the clouds would part. As we took a nap to warm up in our tent, we overheard that a man had just left after spending 3 days at the base camp hoping to see Fitz Roy. We woke up from our nap and decided to just make the climb, regardless. After recruiting another ill-prepared Canadian in sneakers, we climbed the final 1-hour ascent just in time to see Fitz Roy reveal itself.

What a sight. The face of the peak looked like a sheet of gold, the sky and lake were crystal blue, the landscape green from the glacial water. It was one of those views that could knock you off your feet, and is even more special because of 2 days of anticipation and sore bodies.

Mendoza, Argentina
Our flights were delayed en route to dry, hot Mendoza, and we never seemed to recover from this bad timing. We missed the tasting at the restaurant in town by one hour, due to misinformation. We missed the entrance to the winery we most wanted to visit by 5 minutes due to poor planning. We ate too late and our food took too long and we missed the rest of the wineries. We missed the meat festival in the park because we were too early. It was strange. I remember this famous wine country most for the best steak I ever had!

Florianopolis, Brazil
Canadians cannot get visas at the airport for Brazil, contrary to what we understood, and the airline forgot to check us because we began our journey in Mendoza. Our week of surfing on an island would have to wait. We were under pseudo-arrest while the very nice Brazilian customs officials battled the airline. There was no doubt that I had to go back to Buenos Aires, but they were fighting to also make the airline return my Dutch husband with me. Every few hours we would get an update.

"This man is not helpful, we are calling his boss."
"It might take some time to get a visa because it's Carnaval and the embassy is closed."
"This is your honeymoon? Okay we will make sure you stay together."
"Now we are phoning the CEO of the airline."
"I have a plan, we can deport your husband. It's in the Brazillian constitution that family is the most important and that we must keep families together."

Once we were finally deported (took about 4 hours), the real red carpet treatment began!

While all the other passengers had to wait at the crowded gate, we were escorted by security personel onto the empty plane, with my passport being kept by the pilot. When we landed, all the other passengers de-planed while a special security force was sent to pick us up. We had phone numbers from the pilot and cabin crew for when we would finally be able to return to Brazil, and were escorted all the way to the visa desk by special security.

Iguazu, Argentina
Rather than spend four more days in Buenos Aires, we were convinced by a good friend of mine who spent 6 years evading Brazilian customs officials to go to Iguazu for a change of scenery. Iguazu is very tropical, and completely different than anything we had seen elsewhere in Argentina. Buenos Aires was like a beautiful Autumn, Patagonia was a dramatic winter, Mendoza was a dry hot summer, and Iguazu was like living in a jungle. With my papers dropped off at the consulate, it was time to see the famous falls.

We hadn't planned on going to Iguazu, mostly because both of us had already experienced Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, and how many great waterfalls does one need to see in their lifetimes? But Iguazu was a totally different experience. Like Vic Falls, the falls are very long -- at least a kilometre in length -- and you never can see the whole thing in one frame. You can experience the falls from the top, at a section of the falls where it almost seems like you've reached the end of the world. You can experience the falls from underneath, and even swim around an island at the centre of the falls. And you can see the falls alongside them. It was so great we went back for a second day to swim in a distant off-shoot of the falls.

Ilha Grande
With my visa in hand, we crossed the border and hoped that there was no record of being deported in my husband's passport. A few days earlier, I had started to really suffer from some inflamed bug bites which only air conditioning could sooth, and I hoped that long-distance buses in Brazil were as comfortable as those in Argentina. They were not, and in fact it turned out we hadn't paid for a long distance bus! We had paid for a car, a bus, a long wait at a bus station, and then still had to pay for a local bus and ferry ride. Every 4 hours I had to wash the calamine lotion off my body with wet wipes, and re-apply it to the 55 swollen bug bites I now had all over my body.

But it was all worth it. Thirty-seven hours later we found ourselves in an island paradise! No cars, no pavement, just sand, surf, snorkelling, drinking, eating, and arriving everywhere by boat. We ate some seriously amazing meals in Argentina, but we just kept going back to this restaurant along Ilha Grande's beach where all the chairs faced the water, and the food had an impressive number of accolades (we learnt later). My favourite was the crab pastry and the passion fruit caipirinha.

My husband had been patiently waiting to surf the entire trip. Even atop freezing Fitz Roy he had talked about how excited he was to surf. The cancellation of our trip to Floripa was a major blow to his Brazilian surfing dreams, but Ilha Grande did not disappoint. The surfing beach on the other side of the island was brilliant -- the waves weren't very big, but you didn't have to do anything to catch them. Normally when you surf, you spend most of your energy swimming against the tide, then treading water while you wait for waves. On Ilha Grande's Praya Mendes you could walk out to the waves, stand on the bottom, and then just jump up onto your board and be whisked to shore.

Rio de Janeiro
Rio seems to be a city with everything. The city centre of Rio is basically all the buildable land between beautiful mountains and stunning beaches, often just three blocks thick. You can stand atop several different peaks, each with its own unique view of the city, or you can stand on a world-class beach and look up at the characteristic mountain peaks. It's the birthplace of samba, and my favourite, bossa nova. It has great food, such as churrascaria (all-you-can-eat meat restaurants), but also a wide availability of fruits and berries from all over the country, including our favourite Amazonian fruit drink, made of açaí. Rio even has a tropical rain forest national park in its centre.

Along with its obvious natural assets, Rio has some urban quirks, such as the charming neighbourhood of Santa Teresa that clings onto the side of the mountain with its winding roads, picturesque courtyards, and colourful buildings. And who doesn't love a city where men in nothing but speedos and sneakers walk alongside men in suits through streets lined with skyscrapers?

Conclusions
In the end, we didn't get to spend the second half of our trip making our way along the coast (due to visa issues), but we didn't feel like we had missed anything either. The pace was just right -- slow enough to have a satisfying taste of each place we visited, but fast enough to keep an exciting momentum and diversity to the trip. We were so busy enjoying ourselves that we didn't realise until we had left that we had actually missed some pretty core activities. We heard a lot of music around us over the trip, and we did manage to go to a samba social club in Rio, but we never actually saw live tango or danced!

(But then it's always a good idea to leave some important things to do "next time".)

10 May 2012

Customer non-service

I feel like such an expat housewife whining about customer service in another country, but this was a truly amazing conversation I had today with a certain credit card company.

- Hello, I'm looking to purchase a new credit card and saw your Panda card online. It says that by purchasing the card I will "automatically support the World Wildlife Fund", but it doesn't say how?
- And what is your question?
- How does my purchase support the World Wildlife Fund?
- [Silence]
- For example, do 1% of my purchases go towards the WWF? Or does all of my annual membership fee go to the WWF?
- Oh, let me check.
- Do you never get asked this question? Your website is very vague and un-transparent. I thought lots of people must phone you to ask how their money is going to the WWF.
- Okay, I checked and it says that a fixed sum is donated every year to WWF, but it says that the credit card company and WWF have agreed not to publicize the amount.
- That's very un-assuring. Is the fixed sum at least determined based on the number of cards sold?
- Yes! Oh wait, no!
- But then I don't know how my choices as a consumer are leading to raising funds for the WWF.
- I'm sorry, this is really terrible isn't it?
- [Me laughing]
- Why don't you choose the green card instead?
- Sure, what makes the card green?
- Um...let me check...[pause]...The card makes your purchases green!
- But how? Do they invest in carbon offsetting? And if so, how do they determine the carbon footprint of my purchases? And what type of offsetting projects do they fund?
- I don't know! But here's a phone number I just found for the company.
- Aren't you the company?
- Yes, but there's another company that knows why it's "green". Let me just transfer you please...
- Thank you for your help, please transfer me.
- [Ringing, ringing, ringing]
- Um, let me try another number.
- [Ringing, ringing, ringing]

Eventually I hung up because, as with all consumer and government phone lines, I was being charged 0.10 / per minute for this phone call by the company, and 0.10 / per minute by my mobile phone company as service costs for billing the other company, plus my regular minutes.

27 March 2011

The joys of living in a "charming" [dilapidated], "historical" [old] Amsterdam [small] flat


We love our cozy home in the Jordaan.
Having grown up on the west coast of North America, I am so happy to live in a place built before the 1970s, in a neighbourhood where bikes out-number people, and dogs out-number cars.  When people visit us, they are immediately struck by the charm and character of our humble abode, and we are the envy of our neighbours for having windows on all sides, a skylight, and a [however inaccessible] roof terasse.

The Jordaan is an enchanting neighbourhood in the west part of Amsterdam Centrum that hosts two markets -- a farmer's market 15m from our doorstep every Saturday, and a vintage and organics market 100m from our doorstep every Saturday and Monday.  Every block has either a gallery or a cafe/bar, or both, and we are surrounded by canals on all sides.  Apartments in this neighbourhood are considered small, even by Amsterdam standards, but with the Jordaan as your living room, it's still one of the best places to live in the city.

When we first moved into our new home, the usual repairs and upgrades were required.  Some paint, a ledge for the windowsills, some flooring in the closet, nothing that seemed too out of the ordinary.  Since then, at exponentially increasing intervals, our home has become a source of entertainment for our friends who have been following our drama.

This weekend I came home at 5:30AM on a flight from Abu Dhabi to an email from our downstairs neighbour telling us that the re-occurring leak coming from our toilet and leak coming from our washing machine are back.  Then Reinier woke up and greeted me with a kiss and "oh, and if you use the washroom, don't close the door.  It fell off and I just re-glued it".  And then a few hours later while cooking lunch, "oh no!  Esmerelda ate the rest of our basil plant."  And there was a letter on the table from the internet company saying they owe us 0.20 euros.

To truly appreciate the humour in all of this, an explanation of the past year and a half of our cascading apartment pains must be documented.  Here is my attempt:

October 2009 - move in, painting, windowsill, closet floors, install washing machine.  Do not repair all the random holes in the walls, pipes sticking out of the floor, and what I can only describe as the corner of "ooze" [hole with insulation sticking out of it].

November 2009 - valve connecting washing machine to pipes is defective.  Contractor does not have a mobile phone, and our flat does not have a doorbell, so it takes several attempts for the contractor to finally install a new valve.

February 2010 - valve connecting washing machine to pipes fails, and is replaced again.  First appearance of a mouse in the house.  We name her "Esmerelda", and do not see her again for several months.

April 2010 - we apply for internet.

May 2010 - arrival of furniture from Abu Dhabi, and covering up of holes with pictures, chairs,  paintings, and plants.  After many follow-up phone calls, internet company finally tells us that the source of our problem is that our apartment doesn't exist.  Insisting that our apartment does indeed exist, it takes 8 weeks and 3 house visits for the internet to finally realise our apartment is not fitted for telecommunications, and that it will be impossible for us to have internet.  But in the meantime, they send us a box with a router and TV box.

June 2010 - valve connecting washing machine to pipes fails, and is replaced again.  New neighbour moves into apartment immediately below us.  We cancel our internet, and wait for 2 weeks for them to send a new box for us to return the router, etc. in [despite having retained the old box, just in case this might happen].  Finally they send the boxes, we re-package the items, and send them back to the internet company.  Our new downstairs neighbour applies for internet.

July 2010 - we receive a note from debt collectors saying that we owe the internet company for the items we had shipped back to them.  We produce the postage receipts proving that they were sent back, and that we are not culpable.  We find evidence that Esmerelda seems to be using one of our favourite plants to store food for the winter.

August 2010 - we receive another notice from the debt collector, and spend hours on the phone with the internet company trying to resolve the situation.  Finally the internet company sorts it out, and the debt collectors [supposedly] clear our records.  New neighbour [who also had drama with the internet company] finally gets internet and we share the connection.  We begin to see several Esmereldas.

September 2010 - new downstairs neighbour notices closet and all of its contents are wet due to leak originating from our apartment.  Valve connecting washing machine to pipes fails, and is replaced again. After a total of 5 Esmerelda captures over the summer, the Esmerelda situation peaks while my sister is visiting.  She has great advice on dealing with Esmereldas, and with the help of some wood to plug up holes, and a device that emits a sound that only rodents can hear, our Esmerelda situation is back under control.  We begin receiving monthly notices from the internet company that they owe us 20 euro cents.

October 2010 - our lease is renewed.  The only thing worse than living in a semi-dilapidated apartment is sifting through dozens of even more dilapidated apartments for months in search of one functional apartment which you cannot afford.

November 2010 - new neighbour notices the ceiling in his bathroom is becoming discoloured, and alerts us that there is another leak.

December 2010 - after being ignored by the contractor for weeks, we experiment and figure out that it is the toilet and not the washing machine this time.

January 2011 - contractor finally comes visit, tells us it is indeed the toilet, and says he will come back with a plumber.  City workers repairing the streets cut off all electricity on the block for 1 day, two weeks in a row while I am working from home and hosting a sick guest.  In an unrelated incident the same week, our heating stops working and it takes the contractor 3 days [and 3 freezing nights] to fix it [i.e. no heat, no hot water, for 3 days in January, and me waiting at home for the contractor to not show up, because he doesn't have a mobile phone to ring me if I leave the house].  Lia complains that we are not building managers, that endless phone calls to the wife of the contractor because he does not have a mobile phone and waiting at home for hours because we do not have a doorbell constitutes "management", and that "managers" are well-paid because following-up with people is tedious work.  Landlord pays no attention.  We begin house hunt.

February 2011 - contractor finally manages to "fix" the toilet, but leaves a gaping hole in our bathroom for 3 weeks to verify with our neighbour that it is indeed fixed before he patches up the whole wall with plaster.  All power goes out one day at noon in our whole flat [including hot water and heat], contractor comes with electrician to discover that the source of the problem is the electrical installation in the flat 3 floors below us.  This is magically fixed the same day it happened!

March 2011 - the washing machine valve breaks again, and a "definitive" solution is reached with the contractor -- yet another hole is made into our bedroom wall, and yet another pipe is attached to one of the pipes that was sticking out of the floor.  Reinier silently wonders if that pipe actually runs anywhere, but figures the contractor knows what he's doing.  The contractor patches up the hole in our bathroom after 3 weeks of dry ceilings for our downstairs neighbours, and we haven't seen Esmerelda in months.  An architect friends visits us, looks out our bedroom window to the neighbour's roof terasse that abuts our bedroom and says "that's illegal", turns and looks out the other window of our bedroom that abuts the other neighbour's staircase and says "that's also illegal".  We reach a final agreement on a flat just up our street which is not much bigger than our current place, but it's "new".  I go on a business trip to Abu Dhabi, and return to a leaking toilet, leaking washing machine valve, broken bathroom door (in an apartment with windows on all sides), notice from the internet company, and evidence that Esmerelda is back.

When we began our housing search, my criteria was: bright, at least 60 square metres, and older than the 1970s [if we wanted to live in a crappy 1970s building, we'd go back home to Vancouver!].  Reinier's sole criterium was "not requiring any repairs".

In the end, we've settled on a home from 1986, which is 58 square metres, and not very bright.  But it's in perfect condition, and if anything goes wrong it as least has a doorbell.

29 January 2011

Happiness is hard work


I love seasons.  I spent 4 years on the equator, and it really reinforced in me that the temperate world is the most climatically variant.  The same place feels like 4 different places in just one year, and there is a constant sense of urgency to get the most out of the limited time you have to enjoy each season.

People behave differently in each season.  Spring is the rebirth -- the party -- when everyone sheds their winter layers, drag their couches downstairs and plop them down in the first sliver of sunshine they can find.  Summer is counter-routine -- school's out, friends are on holidays, you meet a lot of new people, and on a regular Tuesday afternoon, the park is filled with people who are supposed to be at work.  Autumn is the reset button, when everything settles back down, a routine is re-established, and you are reminded of the finite-ness of one's day.  Winter is the time to hibernate, drink hot alcoholic liquids, and enjoy a whole new range of outdoor activities.

This is my first winter in 5 years, and after a heavenly Christmas at home, I returned to Amsterdam smack in the middle of the most depressing time of year in the temperate world: 3rd week of January until 3rd week of February.  Tis the season of whiners, and I couldn't afford to listen.  Our toilet was still broken, the city workers shut off our electricity twice in two weeks due to road maintenance, we had no heat or hot water for 3 days and 3 freezing nights, and I was still waiting for clients to finalise contracts.  I had landed in Amsterdam after a restful Christmas with lots of momentum, and felt like I was facing opposition in all directions.  And everyone seemed to feel the same way.

We have to remember that this isn't Amsterdam's fault.  Everywhere sucks in January.  But suddenly all those Dutch quirks weren't cute any more.  They were painful.  It's like paying first world prices for third world services.  But Canada sucks right now too.  Remember that.  It's just January.  Christmas and New Year are over, and the next national holiday isn't until Easter.  Happiness and healthiness is hard work at this time of year -- eat right, exercise, maintain connections with people, avoid whining and whiners, and get some artificial sunshine if you have to!

And then I remembered another Dutch quirk at this dark time of year: Carneval.  Carneval is like a much more appropriately-placed Hallowe'en, held in the bleak mid-winter rather than in the sea of celebrations that is Thanksgiving-New Year.  A taste of spring indulgence to get you through the worst and final spat of winter bereavement.

20 September 2010

Amsterdam, the Honeymoon

My first half a year in Amsterdam.
In the DFAIT Intercultural Effectiveness course that I took before I went to Ghana, the instructor described the "Stages of Cultural Adaptation".  The pre-departure jitters --> the honeymoon phase --> culture shock --> adaptation --> re-entry shock.  The duration of each stage depends on the individual and the experience -- in my 6 month post in Ghana, the honeymoon lasted about 3 weeks, culture shock about 3 weeks, then adaptation for about 5 months interspersed with mild honeymoon/culture shock blips.

[borrowed from http://www.expatmumsblog.com]

When I moved from Abu Dhabi to Amsterdam my pre-departure jitters were virtually non-existent because it took me over a year to move here -- normally I give myself about 2 weeks notice before I move to a new country.  And remarkably, I seem to have remained in the honeymoon stage for the past five months here.  I have characterised this post-Abu Dhabi interstitial period as:
"Mini retirement"
"Sabbatical"
"Intermission"

And have used the following job titles:
"Kept woman"
"Home economist"
"Lady who lunches with ladies who lunch"
And my favourite, courtesy of Patricia:  "You're not unemployed, you're a 'freelancer'"

After leaving Abu Dhabi, I had given myself a month and a half in Canada to refuel so that I was ready for the job hunt as soon as I settled in Amsterdam.  But I quickly learnt that Amsterdam in May is not a place for professional ambitions, it is much better suited for leisurely self-indulgence.
"You know, when I first moved to Amsterdam, I was really expecting to land running, but it has surprised me how long it took me to get on my feet here."
"I know, everyone I've met here is an unemployed ex-pat partnered with a Dutch person, who was a professional-over-achiever until they landed in Amsterdam."
"Exactly, no one is expected to do anything their first six months."
"But even if I tried to do 'nothing', I just can't be idle.  My natural default is hectic productiveness, and I always have a lot of to show for my time.  I don't expect Amsterdam to be any different."

Five months after saying that, I do have a lot to show for my first six months post-Abu Dhabi, but not the sort of stuff I had initially meant.  Instead, Amsterdam taught me a lesson in leisure this summer:

Public Holidays.  With Queen's Day as the opener, May is the month of public holidays in the Netherlands.  Queen's Day was a lively inauguration into Dutch street festivities, followed by Remembrance Day, Liberty Day, Ascension Day...and the list continues.  By the time June had begun, most people had forgotten what it's like to work a five-day week!

Queen's Day, Amsterdam, borrowed from www.iamsterdam.com.
World Cup.  My biggest piece of advice to people thinking about leaving Abu Dhabi is to leave in April. This way you benefit from the best time of year in Abu Dhabi (October-March) -and- the best time of year in the temperate world (May-October).  But even with a year to plan my entry into the Netherlands, I can't take credit for landing in Amsterdam just in time for the Oranje to go all the way to the final (and for Ghana to make the quarter final!!  Go Black Stars!). "You wouldn't believe how crazy it is here.  I am woken at 9AM on game days to people cheering and howling, everyone is dressed head-to-toe in orange, and all the offices close for the day.  I can only imagine the atmosphere in South Africa?"
"No one here has gone to the office since the World Cup began."

120,000 people at Museumplein for the World Cup Final, borrowed from www.mobypicture.com.
Fitting in.  Once my belongings from Abu Dhabi actually arrived 3 months after they were packed, it was a full time job for a month just trying to make the place functional.
"What's your schedule this week?"
"I'm fitting my 1200 sf apartment in Abu Dhabi into our 400 sf apartment in Amsterdam.  All week."

Art.  Art is everywhere in Amsterdam, and it's not something reserved for an artistic elite -- it's children's playgrounds, people singing on their bikes, temporary train station installations, overhead lamps, and random street characters.  A week doesn't pass by where I haven't seen a group of people dressed in costume break out into song.

Visitors.  I finally live in a city that is both central and desirable to visit, and whether it was a quick beer during a layover, or a week of hosting houseguests, we had a summer filled with reunions and good company.  Literally every week since I moved here, we have either been out-of-town, or someone has been visiting, and it has been a fantastic way to transition into life here, surrounded by familiar faces.

Cooking.  I've never been the primary chef in the household, nor do I ever plan on becoming one, but I've had fun learning how to cook and buy groceries this summer.  We have a farmer's market 50m from our doorstep every Saturday and a vintage market 100m away every Monday.  We invented a fantastic salad with goat's cheese, the crusty bits on top of fattoush, pasta, strawberries, and chicken; I learnt how to make stuffed butternut squash; Reinier learnt how to make cepelinai (Lithuanian mega-perogies); and I remembered how to make some of my old faves such as okonomikyaki, stir fry udon, and poor man's sushi.

Couples.  One of the biggest adjustments for me has been living in a coupled world.  Everyone in Amsterdam lives with their partner, usually expat female + Dutch male.  I don't think Dutch people marry Dutch people anymore.

Modes of Transportation.  Amsterdam has some very creative ways of getting around, including the beer bike, the penis bike taxi, the luge bicycle, and the disabled guy who pops a wheeley through crowded squares.

Beer Bike, with fully functional taps, borrowed from conortje.wordpress.com.
Festivals.  There are hundreds of festivals held in Amsterdam, and most of them occur between May and September.  "You want us to come to Liverpool for the Matthew Street Festival at the end of August?  I might actually tire of free outdoor music and beer by then."

Trips.  We found ourselves saying an enthusiastic "Yes!" to every travel opportunity that landed at our doorstep this summer.  And since we never know how long we'll be living in Europe, we felt it was the responsible thing to do.  Mountain biking, camping, family, building sand forts, sailing, yachting, reunions...a special thanks to my family in Lithuania for being such outstanding hosts, as always!

By September I was actually looking forward to the transition from summer bedlam into autumn order.  As the leaves begin to brown, this week I also started Dutch courses and working part-time setting up a Dutch Waterfront Centre and Network, and next week I start working a second part-time job.

It's been 5 years since I spent a winter in the temperate north, I can sense that the honeymoon is about to end at the same rate as the winter sets in.

11 August 2010

Trips - Ethiopia




This fall, I'm hoping to have the chance to start documenting some of the places I've been over the past few years.  Here are some notes on my trip to Ethiopia in December 2008, and please check Mikey's version as well if you're planning a trip to Ethiopia soon.

Addis Ababa - the modern-day capital of Ethiopia, the location of the African Union. Go to the National Tourism Organisation (NTO) and have them organise your whole trip around the country. Not only are they highly competent and affordable, their guides are well-educated, and they employ local guides from villages to tour you around each site, creating local capacity.

Rock-hewn Churches - 12th Century Ethiopian Christian church, The Church of St. Mary is carved out of limestone and exhibits a distinctly Ethiopian Christian character. Unlike many other parts of Africa where Christianity was imported by Missionaries in the 19th Century, Ethiopia has its own orthodox faith, was the second country after Armenia to declare itself Christian, and includes its own array of black saints.
Nearby is an archaeological site with an informative 'museum' that illustrates the anthropoligal history of our species.

Bahir Dar - situated on Lake Tana, the source of the Blue Nile, Bahir Dar is an extraordinary collection of monasteries and other historical sites dating from the 16th and 17th centuries peppered amongst islands accessible via boat. Our tour guide, Adugnya, took us to hear traditional Ethiopian entertainment, and participated in many lively discussions about the current state of Ethiopia, and its democratic system.

Awash National Park - a wildlife viewing National Park with lots of birds, oryx and other bovines, but do not expect to see the big 5 like in South Africa and Kenya.

Not-to-be-missed next time!
- Gondar - the 17th century capital of Ethiopia with 44 churches.
- Lalibella - Ethiopia's 11 famous rock hewn churches, carved as crosses.
- Axum - the Holy City of Ethiopia, dating 2000 years back, including the tomb of kings and the parks of Stelae.

27 July 2010

Halas that sh#t.

Ex-pats and people who repeatedly travel to certain places often don't necessarily learn the local language to fluency, but instead slowly incorporate some of the local language into their own vernacular. Some words just don't quite have the same flavour in your mother tongue -- how can you accurately translate "Inshallah" (officially meaning "if God wills it", but often meaning "No."), and "chez" (translates as "at the house of", but is so much more widely applicable and faster than English terms).

Here are some words that I have encountered in the vernacular of ex-pat communities around the world:

Scotland -
"Id-nay" (literally means "isn't it so?")
"Neeps" ("turnips")
"Tatties" ("potatoes")

Japan
"Gambateh!" (three syllables that collectively mean: "work hard"; "nose to the grindstone"; "good luck")
"Dai-jo-bu" (meaning "no problem", but not as casual and much more fun to say)
"Five-man" (a combination of "five" in English, and "man" meaning ten thousand, used constantly when dealing with Japanese currency)

Montreal -
"What day are we?" (Anglo-Montrealers won't actually believe you when you tell them this is not real English)

Turkey -
"Ghetto tea boys" (meaning the young men with brown teeth who spend all day drinking tea and staring at passing women, not to be confused with "tea boys" in the UAE, who are the men who serve tea)
"Brown Cricket Problem" (meaning cockroaches)

Ghana -
"Sista" (literally means "sister", but can be applied to any female, including strangers)
"Cha-lee" (literally means "Charlie", but can be applied to any male who is a friend)
"Bra" (literally means "brother", but can be applied to any male, including strangers)
"You are not a serious man" (widely applicable, used whenever any man is incessantly bothering you)
"Obruni" (means "white person")
"Obibini" (means "black person")

UAE
"Maam-sir" (literally means "madam or sir, whichever you are", and is used by virtually all south and southeast Asian service staff to greet people)
"Same same" (literally means "they are the same", but usually implies "same same, but different", used by virtually all south and southeast Asian service staff)
"Halas that sh_t" (no exact translation possible, western ex-pat expression that combines "halas" [done, stop, enough, cease] with English slang)

Netherlands
"Beer-tche" (spelt "beertje" in Dutch, literally means diminutive beer, or small beer)
"Gezellig" (fantastic Dutch word meaning "good vibes", "friendly atmosphere", "positive ambiance")

The Benefits of Being Not Married.

- I hear that you are leaving us.
- Yes, I'm moving to the Netherlands.
- So you two are finally getting married?
- No, there's no need. I can immigrate as a "partner".
- But then where is it written that he must provide you with a comfortable home? And what allowances you'll have? And what he has to provide for you to go home to visit your family?
- Well western marriages are really wishy-washy about those sorts of things anyways. All we do in western marriages is vow to love, honour, and cherish each other.
- Really? But that doesn't mean anything. Where are your guarantees? Where is your contract?
- All a western marriage contract says is that you have exchanged your vows in front of witnesses and that you are now married.
- Where are the vows written? How can you verify that they have been met?
- Umm. They're not listed in the contract, it's only mentioned that there were vows exchanged. I think it's the act of saying them in front of your friends and family that makes you accountable to them.
- Speaking them in front of people? But what are the grounds for divorce if the contract is so ambiguous and undocumented? What is the guarantee that your partner can afford to be married?
- Well, for my immigration purposes my partner has to take responsibility for me financially and legally for 5 years as my guarantor, and has to prove his income and employment and status as a citizen. But as far as I know, in a marriage there are no such requirements.

In a country where business runs on word rather than contracts, where million dollar deals are made on handshakes alone, and multinational companies risk everything on their relationships with just a few key clients, the attitude in the Emirates towards marriage is quite different. I was generally met with complete shock by my Arab colleagues in Abu Dhbai when they learnt that I was relocating to the Netherlands without any marital "guarantees".

The attitude in the Netherlands seems quite different towards marriage. Everyone in the Netherlands seems to be partnered with someone from abroad -- there are no Dutch people married to Dutch people in Amsterdam. And even for the ex-pats, it's much easier to immigrate as a partner than as a wife/husband!

- It was such a nightmare doing the paperwork to immigrate here.
- Really? My whole immigration process took a total of 3 days, and then I received my papers less than two weeks later.
- We got married in Canada, and so we had to apply for a long form marriage certificate, and then that needed to be sent to the Canadian Department of Foreign Affairs to be stamped, and then they had to send it to the Dutch Embassy in Ottawa to be legalised, and only then was it an acceptable document to the Dutch Immigration Authorities. It took months!
- You should have gotten not married instead. It's much faster.
- How do you do that?
- On Monday you go to the Canadian Embassy in the Hague and get certificates saying that you are not married. On Tuesday you register at the City Hall as "co-habitators running a joint household", and then on Wednesday you go to the Dutch Immigration Office and sign a paper saying that you're "partners". It only takes 3 days, rather than 3 months.
- But don't you have to prove your relationship? Or be living together for more than 6 months?
- We had every boarding pass from trips together and visiting each other over the past 2 years, and plenty of other documentation. They never asked to see it. And on the form it only stated that we had been officially co-locating for 3 days.

The best part is that when we went to the Canadian Embassy to fetch certificates saying that we were not married, the women who presented them to us said "Congratulations!".

- Um. Thanks?
- Good luck to the two of you then.

Had she just congratulated us on being not married? She must have recently divorced, or be someone who is against marriage. Then it was explained to me that Canadians who get married in the Netherlands must apply for the same certificate of being "not married" first, so it's more likely that she was being presumptuous rather than supporting our not married status. In any case, we went out for drinks to celebrate the completion of my immigration process, and the benefits of being not married.

26 July 2010

Brilliant Quotes of the Noughties [2000-2009].


Sometimes friends bantering can quickly spiral into pure genius. Here are just a few quotes I remembered recently, which may or may not be funny to anyone else:

“But our dwarves have magical powers.”
- Nunoo, on the difference between ‘real dwarves’ in Ghana, and the ‘mythical dwarves’ found in folkloric tales such as The Lord of the Rings. Ghana, 2006.

“Unless that hamburger has alpaca or guinea pig in it, I’m not interested!”
Sarah, responding to the waiter’s dinner suggestion after delaying her much anticipating first Incan meal of either alpaca or guinea pig by 3 days due to altitude sickness. Peru, 2006.

“It’s all in your outlook: sure you’re being cheated, but you’re being cheated in the sun!”
- [Translation] Hostel bartender, on why I should go to Morocco, and to this day the best travel advice I have ever received. France, 2002.

“It gets rid of the goatiness”
- Maura, on using lemon rind to mask the ‘goatie’ flavour of goat’s cheese, coining the term ‘goatiness’ forever. Canada, 2001.

“I was seriously disappointed by the lack of llamas”
Sarah, on her first impressions of Machu Picchu. Peru, 2006.

“And that’s a historical fact.”
- Consultant_Tim, on all of the historical ‘facts’ we fabricated during our car ride across Jordan, collectively falsifying all of Jordanian [and Western Civilisation’s] history. Jordan, 2009.

“Is that funny, or am I just drunk?”
“I don’t know, I’m drunk.”
- Mikey and Me, on a particularly creative Abu Dhabi park job. UAE, 2009.

“I know – let’s make a Junction Triangle interpretive dance!”
- Dougie, on how to effectively present our revitalization plan for Toronto’s Junction Triangle. Canada, 2005.

“It’s irresponsible of you to have a heating bill of less than $600.”
- Toronto Landlord, on why he shouldn’t have to pay to insulate our house in order to reduce energy consumption and our heating bill costs. Canada, 2004.

“Alpacas have cuter faces.”
- Sarah, on her highly scientific method for distinguishing alpacas from llamas. Peru, 2006.

“You promised me Madeleine Albright, elephants, and Livingstone. I’m leaving!”
- Mikey, on his invented expectations of Ethiopia. Ethiopia, 2008.

“It’s f-ing brilliant. Just add water, instant community.”
- Me, on my first week of graduate school. Canada, 2004.

03 May 2010

The Silent Chapter.



After nearly three years living in the United Arab Emirates, I have finally bitten the bullet and left my cushy government job in Abu Dhabi to search for new opportunities in Amsterdam.

People have often asked me why I rarely wrote about my experiences in the UAE, compared to my endless emails exploring the Japanese psyche, my elaborate photo documentation from multiple stays in Europe, and my unquenchable excitment about Ghanaian people.

There are several reasons / excuses:

1. Professional learning curve -- unlike my other world adventures, my life in Abu Dhabi revolved around my exciting, but intense job. Most of my mental and emotional energy was poured into absorbing as much as I could of such an unparalleled professional opportunity.

2. Busy travel schedule -- living in the Middle east, there are dozens and dozens of [inexpensive] countries within a 3 hour flight radius, and several low-cost airlines to get me there. I took every opportunity I could to travel, on average leaving the country once a month. I was very fortunate to go to Yemen, Ethiopia, Oman, India X 3, Lebanon X 2, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, Jordan, Nepal, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Botswana, South Africa, and many other places, sometimes just as long weekends from Abu Dhabi. [I also had 40 work days of paid vacation per year, plus about 3 weeks of public holidays.]

3. General Hecticness -- there's exciting-professional-hecticness, there's fun-travel-hecticness, and then there's painful incessant administrative hurdles that one has to jump through in the UAE which make life unmanageably hectic. I have never been able to express to people how unnecessarily traumatic small administrative tasks are to accomplish in the UAE. And for no good reason except human carelessness. Just as one example, to have internet connected at my house it took 11 applications, about 25 visits to the internet company's offices (each visit takes about 25 mins stuck in traffic, 15 mins trying to park, 1 hour waiting only to find that you were given a waiting token for the wrong division, and I will spare you the explanation of trying to communicate with the staff members when you're trying to determine *which division you are meant to speak to, etc., etc.), four visits to my house by the technicians to [not] install my internet, and then keeping the technician hostage until the internet company and/or the technician can give me a good reason why it's impossible to install internet. Imagine the headache of basic tasks such as opening bank accounts, paying phone bills, finding an apartment, buying a car, car repairs, minor car accident administration, minor car accident repairs, car servicing, communicating with a taxi driver, home repairs, cancelling visas, etc., etc.

4. No camera -- everyone is taking fabulous, highly professional-looking photos these days with state-of-the-art cameras, and then emailing them or facebooking them electronically to be instantly shared with the rest of the world. It was during my trip to Peru in 2006 that I realised I was starting to live through my camera, feeling constant pressure to capture a moment, capture a site from it's most interesting angle, and document my life experiences on film. These days I am rarely the one behind the camera, and seem to have gotten much more lethargic with documenting my experiences in general.

5. Ex-pats -- I had never had so many white anglo friends in my life. Emirati culture is very private, and Abu Dhabi's population is 20% UAE Nationals, and 80% ex-pats. I worked for the government and was very fortunate to have a great deal of exposure to Emirati culture, and to have Emirati friends. But there are social rules that must be followed which limited the amount of time and conditions under which I could enjoy the company of my Emirati friends. The mix of ex-pats is highly stratified based on the combination between your job and your nationality: labourers live on labour camps and speak no English with no right to travel or see their families for the duration of their stay; service workers live in crowded apartments, sometimes with rotating sleeping shifts, speak English and are very sociable, but their role is to serve and they have no right to travel or bring their families; and, skilled workers and entrepreneurs, who have exponentially higher wages than service workers, have the right to bring over their families, have the vacation days, money, and right to travel, but are still divided in salary by the position they hold as well as the country they are from, with Western skilled workers having the highest wages within each pay band. Therefore you can save everyone a lot of embarassment by just simply spending time with the people who have relatively the same social boundaries, pay, and rights that you have, although it gives you much less material to write home about.

6. Good friends -- having been employee number 12 at an organization that now has over 180 employees, many of whom are young, energetic, explorative, art-and-culture-loving, food-loving, extroverts, and despite Abu Dhabi being considered a "boring" place, we made the most of it and managed to have endless fun. Abu Dhabi was also the longest I'd ever spent in one place except "home", and I certainly have a new appreciatation for longer stays.

7. Long distance -- whatever energy that was leftover was spent maintaining a long distance relationship, which is now a no-distance relationship in Amsterdam. I tended not to write because the first question was often "When are you two finally going to live together?"

So I have no excuses in Amsterdam!

09 February 2010

The Call to Beer.

People have often asked me if living in a Muslim country has changed my religious practices.

Ramadan and Fridays are the only times I actually felt like I lived in a different culture. In the UAE, people work a Sunday through Thursday work week where Friday is the Holy Day, Thursday night is our Friday night, Friday is our Sunday, and Saturday nights are spent relaxing, preparing for the busy work week ahead, rather than gearing up for a night on the town.

Despite these alterations to the work week, my life in Abu Dhabi looked more like my life in suburban Vancouver above anywhere else I had ever been. I drove to work, I drove straight from work to the hypermarket to fetch groceries, free time was spent driving to the shopping mall or to friends' houses, and life revolved around the availability of parking, and the path of least traffic resistence.

Friday was a very different scene. A typical Friday morning involved sleeping in, lazing about, and eventually making breakfast plans that never managed to come to fruition until lunchtime. We would leave the house walking or driving along empty roads, famished from having taken so long to organise ourselves, recounting the adventures of the week. Walking through the streets of Abu Dhabi, there is a rare quietness as we dash through the alleyways, enjoying the hidden gems of the Capital tucked behind the boulevards. Abu Dhabi has an oppressive super-block configuration where most people's urban experience occurs stuck in traffic on 8-lane boulevards lined with 22-storey buildings, or squeezing through parked vehicles on the smaller roads on the insides of the blocks which have become veritable parking lots punctuated by sheesha cafes and mosques. But at midday on Fridays the streets are empty of cars, and the usual bustle and honking of the inner superblocks is replaced by a quiet sea of white robes walking peacefully to the Friday mosque for prayers. We pass a group gathered under a tree drinking tea and realise for the first time that many of these interstitial urban spaces are actually rather nice places to spend time.

Our church is in sight. A single voice begins to ring from the surrounding mosques -- the Call to Prayer -- ushering its followers into their houses of faith. The pace speeds up as our Muslim brothers stream into the Friday mosques, eager not to be late for their weekly Jumu'ah prayer. With this same sense of urgency, we too make haste, pouring into our adopted house of worship: Brauhaus. And a hmmm / mmmm falls on the whole city as we observe our respective creeds. If anything, my life in Abu Dhabi has strengthened my religious practice of beer.

25 September 2009

[Not] Spoiled.

We had a busy summer of exciting travels.

July was spent in Canada, with trips to enjoy friends and family in Calgary, Vancouver, and Portland, a drive along the stunning Oregon Coast to the Olympic Penninsula in Washington State, and a stay at a former Burlesque house in the 19th-Century-preserved-wild-west town of Port Townsend.

August began with a long weekend of good food and great music in Amsterdam. Just a few weeks later we were back in the Netherlands for some birthday fun -- indoor skydiving, more fantastic food, and a weekend stay at Engelenburg Castle, including a six course meal with six paired wines.

September began in the Netherlands at the castle, five days later we were in Beirut for my birthday weekend of surprises. My first surprise was a trip to Byblos, the famous Phoenician port town founded in 5000 BC, for walks around the old town and the best squid I've ever had in my life. The next surprise was a tour of Chateau Musar Winery, and a visit to the absolutely stagerring Jeita Grotto. Between surprises, we spent our time walking the neighbourhoods of Beirut, soaking in its raw beauty and animation.

Another four day work week in the UAE, and it was Eid holidays in Jordan for a wide range of historical, relaxation, spiritual, and adventure travel experiences. The well-preserved Roman city of Jerash rivalled Ephesus, floating in the Dead Sea was surprisingly entertaining, and there was lots of good food to be had. Seven hours walking around Petra was not enough to absorb the vastness and intricacies of the 5.5 km long ancient capital of the Nabataeens, a truly ethereal place of natural beauty, dramatic landscapes, and monumental yet elegant architecture, that requires a high degree of fitness! Our trip wrapped up with an adventurous climb up the gorge-ous (pun pun) Wadi Mujib where I was twice rescued by Reinier from the rapids, and finally a walk through Amman's Byzantine ruins.

While enjoying another delicious three hour meal in Amman, Reinier looked at me holding a glass of Jordanian red wine and asked: "Are we spoiled?"

"Well, that depends on how you measure it. I live on the other side of the world from all of my family, and I live three timezones from my partner. I live in a city I don't feel connected to, where I cannot do many of the activities I most enjoy. I see injustice every day, and I don't have the luxury of knowing that there is a social safety net that is taking care of the under-priviledged, which I am not only helping to pay for via taxes, but I am also able to influence via a democratic system. My job is very challenging but exhausting, and getting anything done in the UAE is full of obstacles and frustration. We pay for this -- we can afford all of these trips financially, because we pay for it with lifestyle, distance, and stress."

Spoiled is relative. Anyone who enjoys security in food, shelter, and personal safety is spoiled. Within my current context of living in the UAE, spoiled to me is living in the same city as your partner, paying taxes towards the wellbeing of others, understanding your rights, living within a few hours of your family, and enjoying an active and engaging lifestyle with your urban and natural environment.

However, within my next context of being poor but happy living in Europe, we shall see how quickly I miss the luxuries I do have here: lots of vacation time, sufficient finances to spend on all the travels I want, daily swims in my pool, an exciting job, and having a tight social international community I can always count on. We shall see how long it will take me to realise that I am [not] spoiled here.

17 August 2009

Kevin Mitchell on Making Sense of the Gulf.

"When confronted with such rapid transformation, it is difficult to make sense of what is happening in the Gulf and constant change precludes broad generalizations. One tends to either run in fear while ranting about the excesses made possible by the most extreme manifestations of neoliberalism or to stand frozen while expressing a perverse fascination with what is deemed to be inevitable."
- Kevin Mitchell on the Gulf countries in "Constructing Fact, Fantasy, and Fiction", Al Manakh 2006

04 January 2009

2008 in Review: another point form summary of travels with promises of more thoughtful reflections to come.

My New year's resolution is to drink more water and by year's end to have books, films, music, recipes, and intriguing articles, websites or other tidbits to recommend in my 2009 review. For 2008, I have failed entirely at a balanced life and have mostly concentrated all my energy (and money!) on travel, travel, and escapism via travel.

I have been very fortunate to be able to travel so much this year, and with such good company -- I intend to do some justice to the people and places I have met along the way by dedicating more time to writing about them soon. Here is a brief summary of some of the highlights (in no particular order):



Lebanon - electric street life and urban renaissance in Beirut, and my first Muslim- and Lebanese- wedding in Tyre.



Oman - legitimate natural and cultural oasis, with authentic historical culture and remarkable old, decaying towns to set up camp in.



Yemen - one of the most extraordinary places I've been, with gingerbread-house-looking historical skyscrapers, beautiful landscapes, and a lot of able-bodied people chewing qat on the side of the road all day long.



Nepal - pagodas and dim sum, hinduism and curry, experiencing extremes of funky ex-pat communities in Kathmandu, and a weekend local-style in the village of my tea boy with his family.



India - an emerging economy with all the comforts associated with having a middle class. The legacy of thousands of years of progressive civilisation, and an overwhelming excitment for the future. I only scratched the surface of Delhi, Agra (the Taj Mahal), and Mumbai.



Sri Lanka - military offensives kept all the other tourists out, but there is just so much Sri Lanka has to offer. Preserved (and unexpectedly impressive) archaeological cities, stunning beauty, good food and crafts, and sacred buddhist sites.



Ethiopia - where to begin? Ethiopia has been secretly succeeding as a great empire out of reach at 2000 metres for thousands of years. It's the cradle of humanity, with many of the world's earliest hominids surfacing in the Great Rift Valley, it has been a 'civilised' Christian empire with a developed writing system hundreds of years before Christianity ever reached Europe, 11th Century churches carved out of bedrock (picture above), natural beauty, excellent food, the headquarters of the African Union, the only sub-Saharan African country to have never been colonised by imperial forces. The list continues.



Scotland - extended business trip to re-visit my first ex-pat home (Edinburgh) and finally give Glasgow the attention it deserves!



Belgium - cycling along canals to abbeys all over central Belgium, sampling the fruits of the monks' centuries of labour: Belgian Abbey Beers!



Germany - Christmas with my mother in Cologne, Bonn, the 'romantic Rhine', and Trier, just the two of us (literally -- all the shops were closed and the streets empty). Trier was a surprising highlight of our lovely, however frozen, German experience.



Paris - a romantic New Year in the most notoriously romantic city in the world.



The Netherlands - lots of laughs, meals, walks and wine, and a nine-hour long Christmas dinner in Dutch. I will have a lot more to say about NL in 2009.

Thankfully there's lots of water in Holland, which should help scratch off my first New Year's resolution!

28 October 2008

Bikes, Beer, and Belgium: A BlackBerry Holiday


Namur, Belgium, taken with my BlackBerry and emailed in almost real time to friends abroad.
Lonely Planet is the bible of choice for backpackers all over the world. My LPs have gotten me around all sorts of places where I didn't speak the local language, didn't have time to wait to ask the locals how often the boat leaves for ___, and have given me the needed direction when faced with thousands of decisions ranging from how do I eat, to what is the best itinerary for 5 days in ___ country.

However, I was finding myself living vicariously through my LP, afraid to venture off its suggested paths, into the unknown world of self-reliant exploration. As a stepping stone away from the Lonely Planet Holiday towards Independant Travel, I have discovered the WikiTravel Holiday, the Google Holiday, and on a trip to Belgium and Holland in June 2008, the BlackBerry Holiday.

Holland's cities are living laboratories of Urban Planning...I had friends to visit in Amsterdam...my brother is a student of homebrew...Belgian beers are our family favourite...a trip to Holland and to Belgium as a 'research' trip...but if we are drinking, we should cycle instead of drive...I'm too busy for Wikitravel and Google research before we get on the plane! And so was born the theme of our trip: Bikes, Beer, and Belgium - on a BlackBerry.

Virtually all of our research including accomodation, cycling distances (but not elevations!!!), people to meet up with, brew pub opening hours, bicycle rentals, and restaurants came from various applications on my blackberry. At historical locations, I could simply wiki the name of the place, and we had an instant self-guided tour full of interesting little tidbits of information to help explain what we were seeing. On the train into a new city, we would search for accomodation, plug the address into google maps, route the path from the train station to the hotel including exact route distance, and organise our hotel choices with all of this in mind. Quite a departure from the usual walking-aimlessly-carrying-6-months-of-gear-on-your-back-looking-for-accommodation ritual that backpackers in Europe can empathise with.

What's dangerous about the convenience of travel is that we have gotten lazy. I rarely prepare anything before a trip these days, I know much less about the place I'm going before I depart, and this has very negative impacts on my depth of experience of new places. I used to have rules: always know how to say 'Please', 'Thank you', 'Excuse me', and 'Hello' in the local language before setting foot in a new country; have some knowledge of the political and social history of a place; it's staple cuisine and traditional dishes; etc. In fact, I have been so laissez-faire with travel in recent years that I have caught myself looking up the significance of places and sites after I've gotten back from a trip, when I finally have time to enquire. I am often so busy before a trip that I don't even have time to print the Wikitravel notes I copied and pasted way back when I had first bought the ticket!

I had an excellent trip to Beirut this summer -- I went with a friend who was from Beirut and with an urban planner colleague of mine in Abu Dhabi. Before I left, I was determined to finish the Heart of Beirut book I had bought the year before -- a book which explores the urban history of a famous square in Beirut through the eyes of the people who had occupied it, and how people and politics have transformed the urban form of Beirut. But in the days before my departure for Beirut, I was still in the book's prologue!

Luckily for me, my roommate's an urban planner...from Beirut...whose last job was working for the urban planning authority in Beirut responsible for the masterplanning and reconstruction of the city's historical downtown. In 1 hour, using the excellent diagrams and maps from my book, she walked me through the layers of the city, the story of what I was about to go see. And my trip to Beirut was one of the richest trips I have had in years. I don't expect the luxury of having a local urban planning expert who speaks perfect English guide me through every travel experience of my future, but it did remind me how important stories are to a landscape, and how they can mould your experience of one.

Will my BlackBerry only make me lazier? Or will it add layers of conventional information, alternative stories, historical reference, and sub-cultures to my experience? Why spend so much money and time traveling when you can't invest those few hours before you leave to learn things that will make your experience exponentially richer? If I depend on GPS all the time, will I entirely lose my good sense of direction? I take pictures with my BlackBerry and immediately in near real-time send them to friends abroad, yet I never get around to putting words to the picture by bringing any depth to the stories of my travels on my blog anymore? Is access to third party (English) information conveniently enabling me to avoid engaging with people right in front of me?

I think I know the easiest solution: a Lonely Planet Application for BlackBerrys.

06 April 2008

The scale of authenticity.

Abu Dhabi's an excellent place to have young children, but for an imaginative 20-something, there's little to do except work. And I've been working 10-12 hour days for almost 2 months straight now. Though I really enjoy work right now.
A typical email from me these days reads "No, you have not been removed from 'the list' -- I've been working too much to write lengthy email updates these days." I think the reason my blog was so active while I was in Africa was because I had little else to do at work! But also, I had far more material to work with in Africa than I have here.

Abu Dhabi is a peaceful, island city where activities and places are controlled in order to maintain the peaceful status quo. There are no real spontaneous, organic, cool places to discover, no quirky cafes opening, or room for interpreting public space.
I went to Nepal for an extended long weekend in March, and we spent most of our time hanging out with the owners from our hotel -- an ultra-cool couple from Seattle -- and their ultra-cool friends. The couple met in Seattle and returned to the husband's homeland a few years ago to re-build his childhood home into a guesthouse, and they enjoy hosting their guests as if they are old friends at home, and they have all sorts of funky ex-pat friends who own restaurants and bars around Kathmandu. One evening, we were sitting around a fire at an open roof Korean resto-bar, having drinks with the American Embassy crew, talking about how much we appreciated having all these stylish and interesting places to go to in Kathmandu:

- Yah, but this is not the Kathmandu experience.
- I disagree. This is a Kathmandu experience, and something I have no guilt enjoying, because it's still something I cannot get in Abu Dhabi.
- Yah, but this is not the real Kathmandu.     Look around you -- we're all ex-pats.
- I totally get what you're saying, and if I hadn't just spent half the weekend staying with the family of our tea boy in his village, then I would probably walk away from this long weekend feeling rather empty about my experience in Nepal. But, on the scale of authenticity, sitting on this rooftop in Kathmandu, drinking Black Russians with a bunch of Americans, Koreans, and one Napalese person still ranks many notches higher than anything I've managed to find in inauthentic Abu Dhabi.

I think I spend very little time really "in" Abu Dhabi. It's not a bad place here, in fact, I think it would be heaven to raise small children here. And I hate it when people complain that there's nothing to do, because we have everything we need here, and people leave you in peace on the streets, and we're given space. But the truth is that Abu Dhabi is just too chill, with a focus on families. And 5 months of the year it's too hot to go outside.
Largely because of this simple climatic fact, much of life in Abu Dhabi feels very manufactured. Most urban activities were designed to avoid the reality of the outside world -- air conditioning runs all year round, and they even tore down the old central souk in order to build a 'modern' indoor one (ah, when you build a souk indoors, it's called a 'mall', and there are already plenty in Abu Dhabi!)
Mostly I lead a very domestic life. Topics of conversation revolve around work (almost my entire social circle are people I work with), buying furniture (I'm in the midst of my second move already, and there are always new people coming who inevitably talk about furniture), and cars (I just bought a pimped SUV – the most fuel-efficient SUV available in UAE, by the way). I lead more of a Burnaby life now than I ever lead in Burnaby!

The real world only bullies its way into one's life here when something goes wrong -- such as finding accomodation. My move has been filled with drama -- I was kicked out of my flat by building management because they want new tenants so that they can ask for more bribe money, then the roommate turned on me and displayed her un-humanly selfish and victimized attitude in its full glory, it took 2 months to find a new place to live (which we're paying $50,000 per year in rent for by the way -- Abu Dhabi is ridiculous for housing!!!), and now I'm homeless until the new pad is ready for moving in.

Even in family-oriented Abu Dhabi I seem to find some authentic drama to keep me entertained.

03 January 2008

Since when is Jo'burg 6500 km from Cape Town?


Forget half the length of Africa, the final tally of our spontaneous road trip from Johannesburg to Cape Town ended up at 6500 km -- that's about 80% the length of Africa.

Until I have the chance to sit down and properly reflect on the trip, here's the experience in visual form http://www.photobox.co.uk/album/7357675, and here's the experience in point form...

Highlights:
-Victoria Falls -- an absolutely mind-blowing site, impressing me the likes of Machu Picchu
-Fish River Canyon, Namibia -- despite the un-imposing name, it's a stunning canyon, apparently second only to the Grand Canyon in stature
-Highway wildlife in Botswana -- we saw more wildlife along the highway than we did in the National Parks, and it was so refreshing to know that elephants, giraffs, zebras, and lions exist not only in National Parks, but still roam Africa's vast landscapes
-Cape Town -- along with the entire Western Cape, will never fail to inspire me
-People of Zimbabwe -- the glimpses of Zimbabwe we saw through our trip and conversations with emigrants in Botswana have stirred in me an absolute fascination in the country and its people
-Quirky accommodation across the region -- we stayed at everything across the board, and half the fun is chatting with the characters who run the B&B's, camp grounds, backpackers, huts, resorts, and even a camp for orphans!
-Namib dunes -- of course...
-Widely varying landscapes and people -- we had such a variation of landscapes to cross, and colourful personalities from across the region's social spectrum
-Leanne & Guillaume's wedding -- at Kirstenbosch botanical gardens, an event that brought people together from literally every corner of the world
-Reuniting with old friends as if no time has passed...

Lowlights:
-Forgetting my phone at the hotel just 15 km away -- but still in another country!
-Witnessing the circle of life -- such as a rotting elephant on the side of the highway and dozens of vultures capitalising on donkeys' roadside misfortunes
-Driving 6100 km of a 6500 km roadtrip -- though teaching Sara how to drive standard on the left side of the road and the right side of the car was quite a highlight -- go girl!
-Botswana's landscape is really quite boring to drive across, but the coolness of the people makes up for it

We made some amendments to our list of acquired skills along the journey:
-Charming border guards out of paying heavy registration fees to enter their country
-Disinfecting our car and ourselves at dozens of Foot and Mouth disease checkpoints across Botswana
-Avoiding men in military gear carrying riffles, mysteriously exiting and entering the un-fenced National Parks in Zimbabwe
-Off-roading our little VW Polo like a Land Cruiser, and still being the only car in Namibia that didn't get a flat
-Recovering bank cards eaten up by ATMs across Botswana
-Exporting South Africa's extremely polite highway driving to Botswana
-Name that road kill -- we have identified an elephant, donkeys (although it was difficult to identify underneath a dozen vultures), eagles, something that looked like a baby gorilla, and then the usual dogs and cats
-Dodging livestock -and- elephants -- we also shared the road with a giraffe, zebras, dozens of baboons, and other exotic mammals
-BYO-Hotel -- sleeping in the car when we can't find reasonably priced accommodation, and drying our clothes in the car while on the road
-Capitalising on any opportunity for make-shift workouts
-Decorating Marco's windshield (our car) with colourful insects
-Having lively filling station conversations -- our most interesting conversations have mostly been with gas station attendees and chats with various Zimbabwean hawkers at filling stations
-Eating everything but Batswana food in Botswana, including Portugese, Chinese, South African, Lebanese...
-Entertaining eachother -- I think we must have covered every topic of conversation known to man before we reach Cape Town!

19 December 2007

2300km down, 2300 km to go!

My first trip to Southern Africa, I spent a month living here. I had my hair cut, I bought underwear, I ate whole foods, went shopping, and lead a pretty domestic, sedentary life with our South African friends.

This trip is virtually the opposite -- we are combing across the surface of four countries, a road trip the distance of about half the length of Africa.

Driving is not the only skill we have mastered along the way though. We are also learning how to:
-Charm border guards out of paying heavy registration fees to enter their country
-Name that road kill -- we have identified an elephant, donkeys (although it was difficult to identify underneath a dozen vultures), eagles, something that looked like a baby gorilla, and then the usual dogs and cats.
-Dodge livestock -and- elephants -- we have also shared the road with a giraffe, dozens of baboons, and other exotic mammals.
-BYO-Hotel -- sleeping in the car when we can't find reasonably priced accomodation.
-Have lively filling station conversations -- our most interesting conversations have mostly been with gas station attendees and chats with various Zimbabwean hawkers at filling stations.
-Distinguish between reality and our dreams -- as usual, our anti-malarials are giving us unimaginably vivid dreams to enjoy.
-Entertain eachother -- I think we will have covered every topic of conversation known to man before we reach Cape Town!

Tomorrow we say farewell to Botswana after a week of traversing this vast, barely populated country of really chill people, and a short trip to Zimbabwe to see the absolutely monumental, majestic, and massive Victoria Falls. Tomorrow we head to Windhoek in Namibia, where we will begin our descent through the Namib dunes to the Western Cape of South Africa, exhausting our one CD of Batswana music along the way.

10 December 2007

Re-thinking xmas.

Normally this time of year, I send a mass email of alternative holiday gift ideas, but nowadays so many other people do a better job.

There are 59 alternative gift ideas here >>
More resources here >>
And plenty of goats here >>

30 September 2007

Car-Culture Shock.

I have been busy moving into my new apartment, traveling virtually every weekend, and working much harder than I'm legally allowed to during the holy month of Ramadan. As such, I haven't had much time to write. So I thought, in the mean time, I'd at least share some of my email responses to questions people have been posing me...

How is it going over there? You arrived in Abu Dhabi the same time as Christopher arrived from Sierre Leone to Toronto, so I'm going to time your culture shock together! Has it began yet?
I think our experiences of culture shock may vary slightly...I work and socialise almost exclusively with Montrealers and Vancouverites. Even my two non-Canadian friends both lived in Canada for awhile. Plus the fact that I've been on the road for so long, I'm kind of instantly adaptable these days. The biggest cultural difference is that I'm adjusting to car culture.

What's it like?
Well, I've had it really easy here. I got hooked up with an apartment with a really cool Aussie girl my workmate met on the street, in the building 3 of my work colleagues live in. So I have a fab place, fully stocked with furniture and dishes and the like, and my workmates seem happy enough to drive me everywhere.
I basically haven't lifted a finger. I'm so stocked up that when it was time to have a potluck amongst the crew, I hosted it because I have the most dinning space and dishes. I even have a guest room with a double bed all set-up.

Abu Dhabi is a place that's very difficult to characterise, and my experience here revolves around my job, my weekend travels, and my workmates who live in my building. I feel like I could make more definitive statements about Oman than I could about Abu Dhabi, because I don't feel like I've remotely scratched the surface of AD yet. I feel like I'm combing the surface with a car, but I'm not even the one behind the wheel.

What's work like?
Work has been fine, but new staff is always arriving, and change is the only constant, so things might not always be as good as they've been for me at work. I anticipate that any cool projects I've been given to manage will be re-allocated to new staff members just when they start to get cool.
How do you get exercise with the not going outside part? Are you swimming there?
We have a pool and a gym on the roof of our building, so I go to the gym about twice a week and I swim a couple times a week too. But not so much as exercise -- it's still too hot in the pool and outside to swim for exercise. One night I went swimming in the Persian Gulf at 4am, and even then the water was still a couple degrees hotter than the air -- maybe 35 degrees at 4am.

But this week it has finally cooled down, and being outdoors is actually beginning to be enjoyable. As autumn ensues, I'll be able to comfortably explore my environment from outside of the car and actually penetrate my environment enough to have some actual culture shock.