It's Time

When I met my friend Todd in Avignon he challenged me to bring proper closure to the trip through the blog and to not just let it die of neglect once I got back to Vancouver.

Originally when I got back I thought of doing a "Best Of" blog that would allow me to reflect and recapture the feeling of being "out there." Well, I've been back in Vancouver now for a week. The "Best Of" blog just ain't happening. At least not yet anyway. Maybe once the photos get organized.

Now tomorrow marks the day I have tried to ignore the most - the dreaded "I have to go back to work day." I am certainly not dreading the chance to see many friends and colleagues and bore them with tales of world travel. It's the routine that work brings with it, and the threat of the "rut" that I have realized I can so easily fall back into and so dearly wish to avoid. I remember coming home 20 years ago from backpacking in the South Pacific and being so keen to see more. Then work and life happens and 20 years goes by before you even realize it. I am so thankful for the chance to be able to finally both see and do more. The way I look at a map is now irrevocably changed. The challenge is to remember the awesome feeling that accompanied seeing things both long-awaited and those discoveries that were unexpected. That way this "hiatus" will be a short one and we will once again be out there.

But that's for a later date. Now it's time to figure out what I should wear to work (ugh - socks) and to complete one last end of trip ritual. We started collecting friendship bracelets on the trip. One for every country that we visited. It was quite foreign to me, as I didn't really "do" jewelry of any kind, but I found I really got into it. But just as they once went on, now it is the time that they come off. At least all but one. I figure I'll keep one on as a little memento of my other life (along with the tattoos). It can ride solo until it is once again joined by others.

Getting Closer

The morning mist of Westhawk Lake

With the foreign portion of the trip now wrapped up I have been able to enjoy a gradual re-entry into Canadian life by enjoying the hospitality of my family both at Westhawk Lake in Manitoba and now in Calgary.

Westhawk Lake is about a 2-hour drive east of Winnipeg. Ever since I was a kid it has been a destination for family vacations, first at my Grandmother's trailer and now at my Uncle Cliff (my Dad's brother) and Aunt Eleanor's cottage.

After picking up Heather from the airport and watching her reunite with Jessy, we arrived at the lake and were enthusiastically welcomed by the vast number of family (13) who were hanging out at the lake. What followed was a great 4 days of hiking, eating, swimming, waterskiing, tubing, deer-sighting and storytelling as we recounted our adventures and heard about what was happening with everyone.

Heather and Jessy being reunited

The Westhawk Family Portrait

Kathy coming in for a landing

Heather getting a ski lesson from my cousin Sandra

Success!

Of course, like all moments of the past year this too came to a close and we had to depart for the airport so Heather could head west and Kathy could head east. That left Jessy and I to tackle the reportedly ominous prairie drive as we made our way to Calgary.

Now I have to say that for year's I have heard nothing but negativity about the experience of driving through Saskatchewan. Now having finally done it (on the way out last year we skipped it as we did a detour to Wyoming) I have to say I think it has got a bad rap. I would much rather do that drive and be able to look across the prairie landscape then do the Maine / Pennsylvania tree-lined highway.

Yep - Moose Jaw

The only cop I saw between Winnipeg and Calgary

The world's biggest teepee at Medicine Hat courtesy of the 1988 Winter Olympics

Arriving in Calgary meant that once again enjoy the wonderful hospitality of my Uncle Earl and Aunt Islay(my Dad's sister). After a family dinner Sunday with them and my cousin Dean and Mark and Mark's family where I once again bored everyone with travel tales I enjoyed a great day Monday where they treated me to a tour of Calgary, a great lunch and a trip to the movies to see The Bourne Legacy.

The Olympic Plaza from '88 where the medals were awarded

Islay and Earl enjoying a quiet morning while trying to ignore me blogging

When I speak about the trip I know people will be (hopefully) fascinated by the places we have been to and the things we have done. But for me, just as important as all that, were the treasured moments of surviving the Fox Valley Inn with my sister, of just chilling out at the lake, and of going to the movies with my Aunt and Uncle. The opportunity both last year and this to spend just a bit of quality time with family was really the unexpected gift of the trip.

But now it's time to head to British Columbia and a meet up with Heather and Chloe at Chez Glover in Peachland for one final bit of travel before crossing the finish line in Vancouver.

Road Pops

OK - I just realized that this is my last night in the USA as tomorrow we cross back over to Canada for a few r & r days with family at Westhawk Lake. Given that the last week (holy crap it has only been 7 days) has seen my sister, dog and me cross through 15 states and cover I don't want to know how many kilometers, there are a few things that have come up along the way:

Sorry Fenway, For the longest time you held the title, but Wrigley knocked you to the #2 slot on my favorite ballparks list. I loved the ivy, the fact that there was no replay screen (made me pay attention) and "Take me out to the Ballgame" is way better than "Sweet Caroline" (and I am a Neil fan btw). Loved how the buildings with a birds eye view had all put up bleacher seats on their roofs too. Even spotted a couple getting married on one rooftop.

OMG I am really here... 

First pitch

Jay Bruce of the Reds hit it.....

.....over this guy's head for a home run and the eventual winning run 

Me sitting close to Bartman territory

The rooftop seats

I wonder whose idea getting married like this was?

Now that a couple of days have gone by I can share this (sort of) BWF. I was walking in downtown Chicago Sunday morning like the geeky tourist I am when a short dude in sunglasses advised me I couldn't keep walking up the street, and would have to take the long way around. As I noticed he has a radio and mic concealed (along with who knows what else) I just said sure. When I went down the street a block over I could see the cross street cleared off and many cars with flashing lights a few hundred meters away. A woman beside me mentioned "Oh - is the President back again?" as we crossed the street so I decided to stop and take a picture with my iphone. Then from almost literally out of nowhere a woman got in front of me and exclaimed "You can't take photos here!" I politely smiled my best I'm from Canada smile and said I didn't know and quickly walked before she asked me to delete. So I don't know for sure who was in the 'hood, but assuming it was secret service I encountered I am going to let you make the educated guess. And no - I don't think it was Oprah.

Pretty boring pic for such drama

If you are ever in the vicinity of Chicago in the summer and need to get away, Warren Dunes State Park looks awesome. Sand, surf, and some cool dunes. We would have liked to just kick off our shoes and chill, but alas we had Jessy.

Collecting some Lake Michigan sand for Chloe's collection 

Wishing I had a sandboard

I have added two items to my list of indulgences I will have at home in the event I ever win the lottery.

Forget the bat mobile - I think I found my dream car

One of the things I love most about traveling is when you happen to luck into finding a notable fixture of the community you are visiting. Such was the case yesterday in Wisconsin, an area known for cheese. We stopped at Ehlenbach's Cheese Chalet, where they have over 160 types of cheese. In talking with a local guy he told us that this was the premier cheese store in Wisconsin, and after tasting the sampler pack that Kathy bought I have to agree.

And finally....We stopped in Alexandria Minnesota today to get gas, and I decided to get the impromptu haircut so I could look presentable for the family (and Heather) tomorrow. Talking with the stylist led to this exchange:

Her: "So what are you doing in Alexandria"?

Me: (pausing for effect cause I can't believe I am able to use this line in its most literal sense)

"Just passing through"

I love traveling.......

Road Trip: The Sequel Begins

It's time for the last lap of the trip. Heather and Chloe are now back in Vancouver getting acclimated to life at home. Somewhat ironically, both of them will shortly be leaving Vancouver for separate mini-trips (Heather to join me in Winnipeg, Chloe going with Aunts, Uncles, and cousins to Wyoming). I think we are all keenly aware that for the past year the longest we have been in one place is 10 days (Bali and Sydney) and that we all will have itchy feet.

While they re-connect with friends and family in Vancouver (and hopefully find a place for us to live since we sold our home prior to the trip), I am back on the road with my sister Kathy as copilot/navigator and my dog Jessy as the precious cargo.

Kathy and her family have done a wonderful job looking after Jessy while we were gone. I admit I did have visions of Jessy flipping me the dog equivalent of the "bird" as payback for being left behind a year ago. Thankfully Kathy was keen to come along for the ride for a couple of weeks so I was pretty sure Jessy would get into the car when it was time to leave Truro and not give me too much crap.

Kathy with Jessy (the white dog) and Taylor (the other dog)

One of the interesting things of coming back is rediscovering all the stuff that was left behind. It's kind of like Christmas. Aside from our car and our dog we also left our camping gear and even our ipad behind in Truro. After reclaiming the car and the ipad from my 16 year old nephew Zach (I had to dig the ipad out of his not very clean nor orderly room), it was time to pack up and hit the road.

Zach with the CRV

The initial leg of the trip was to head south to visit my sister Karen and her husband Craig in Newport Rhode Island. Newport was where we hid out a year ago when Hurricane Irene showed up. Thankfully this visit has had the luxury of way better weather and gave us a great opportunity to explore the island. Sadly for us, one of the things we realized from the 1,200km trip here was that the AC in my SUV seems to be toast and a quick trip to the car doctor informed us there was no quick fix.

So now after a couple of days of fine dining (pork tenderloin last night and....wait for it....LOBSTER tonight), yachting, exploration (we saw the rich 'hood and all the fancy mansions today) and Olympic watching (what will happen to commercial voiceovers when Morgan Freeman is no longer with us?) it is time to move on.

Me in front of the mansion used in the opening sequence of "True Lies"

My sisters Kathy and Karen chilling out

Captain Craig showing us how a pro steers a yacht

The next two days will have us on the highway to Chicago, where we will stop for deep dish pizza, outlet malls, and a trip to Wrigley Field to tick one more item off the bucket list.

London Calling

(I wonder how many times that song will be played at Olympic venues?)

We originally were planning on coming home in late June to give ourselves a full two months to get back into the swing of Vancouver life and do mundane things like figure out a place to live. London didn’t really hold a big appeal, as we had all been before. That all changed when we experienced the Winter Olympics in Vancouver. We had such a good time that the idea of being so close to a Summer Olympics and not going seemed like a gigantic lost opportunity. Our Olympic dream was ultimately enabled by Heather’s cousin Sara, her husband David and son George, who very kindly let us invade their peaceful surroundings for the past few days.

Team GB's Biggest Fan

As we eagerly anticipate our upcoming 9 hour flight to the Big Apple from the cold, somewhat sterile confines of Frankfurt International, I thought it would be a good time to share some observations of our London and Olympic experience.

I know there are all sorts of “Olympics are bad/corrupt/evil” beliefs out there, but after now seeing two of them, I admit I am a big fan and would happily go again. Seeing so many very friendly people over the past few days from so many places made me realize that there is great value in how the event brings people from all over together in an friendly, social atmosphere.

Best Dressed GB Fan

It's always easy to spot the Dutch fans

A chance meeting with members of the Cuba track team

Aside from the Games we took time to search out a couple of unique British locations. The first part of Day 1 had us on a Harry Potter tour until we walked right into the Olympic torch route and decided to hang out. 

Heading into "Honeydukes"

Shopping in "Diagon Alley"

Chloe's off to catch the train to summer school

We also went in search of street art done by the renowned artist Banksy, who was featured in the Oscar-nominated film “Exit Through The Gift Shop.” His art pops up throughout London and while most pieces are destroyed some manage to stick around. While we were there he announced two Olympic-themed pieces online, although the locations were unknown. So we had to settle to try and find this one.

Looking up at the Falling Shopper

We landed in London without any event tickets since as a Canadian you can’t use the London 2012 ticket site. A slight bit of skullduggery enabled me access and we were fortunate enough to get tickets to a couple of events. We saw Women’s Hockey which featured an upset (I think) win by the Kiwi’s over the Aussies and an impressive display by the Dutch in handily beating Belgium. I wonder if New Zealand/Australia is our version of Canada/USA? That event also showed us the unpredictability of the London summer, as we started off in bright hot sun but before the hockey was over I would have to briefly flee the stands to escape the rain. 

The Dutch applying pressure

We also were fortunate to see Men’s Handball, which was just awesome (aside from spending one half right behind a TV camera operator). Fast, physical, lots of goals, and a rocking atmosphere (boy those Hungarians can be loud) made for a great time. Even if we really didn’t know the rules. 

Hungary for a goal?

We also saw the non-ticketed Men’s cycle road race. Just like the Tour de France - one second they are there and the next gone. At least it was easier to see who was from what country. 

A very crowded roadway

London volunteers were simply brilliant. Super nice and always wanting to help out. Sadly the London ticket site was the complete opposite. A couple of times I thought I was in for Men’s basketball (yep - the USA team) and Tennis at Wimbledon (an event that I am now convinced I need to add to my amended bucket list) but then got rejected at the last minute. There’s a simple fix London - if there are no tickets available, don’t have the event display as one that has tickets when a customer does an event search. Massive uproar here though on the scores of empty seats being shown on TV. Not good. They ended up releasing sponsor and other VIP seats - just sadly too late for our Games experience. 

Us and the Volunteers

On the topic of uproar (or lack thereof), we were very surprised to find out that people couldn’t go and see the Olympic flame. It is tucked away in the Stadium, which is not open until the Track & Field events next week. Apparently this is not a story here, which is way different than Vancouver two years ago and the fuss with the fences.

The Tower of London was very cool to see and walk at night. But I did think Vancouver (with its neon lit rings) did it better. 

We spent some quality time in the London Live site at Hyde Park. Very well set-up and with the four big screens it was easy to keep track of things, or have a quick nap in the sun. 

The mascot statues were all over town, and we quickly got into the habit of taking pictures with them. Of course - there were way more than we thought there would be. 

I think Heather can take him/her/it

BTW - Nothing gets you through a long Olympic day quite like the Starbucks Mocha Cookie Crumble frapachino. If I got drug tested for caffeine there is no way I would have passed.

To escape the rain at the Olympic Park between hockey and handball we hid out forst in the massive McDonalds. Since we were hiding out it felt only right to eat while we were there. We later found our way into the London 2012 Mega-Store, which even on Day 2 was getting picked clean by fans. I include myself in that group - I was so cold I ended up with a Team GB hoodie to go with my Canada t-shirt. We also searched in vain for a Canada flag for Chloe to wear. Lots of other countries flags available though. Like really - it’s Canada. Fellow Commonwealth nation. I know we don’t rock the Summer Games quite like the Winter ones, but no flags? Next time we don’t leave home without one.

And on that note it’s time to catch a plane for North America and officially complete our round the world tour with a few days in the Big Apple!

Pamplona - It's Not All Bull

(yes - the blog is out of sequence. This took place before Provence. Also - if you are offended by bullfighting this post may not be for you as there are some pictures)

Ok - maybe a lot of it is about the bulls. The Festival of San Fermin is an annual event that honors Saint Fermin, the co-patron of Navarre and was immortalized in Hemingway’s “The Sun Also Rises.” It is better known for the annual ritual of running packs of very large bulls through the streets in the company of whomever seems to be of the mind that running with them is a good idea.

Every year I would invariably catch the news coverage that accompanies the festival. Every year I would think to myself that if I ever had the chance that this would be interesting to check out, and maybe even run.

The thing about this trip is that it has empowered those kind of “what if” thoughts into becoming reality. Now granted on the scale of every kind of “what if” thought this could be considered to be a bit out there. But hey - it was my dream. I make no apologies.

At least I was sensible enough to figure that there would be some value not just showing up solo (Heather and Chloe decided to leave me be and instead head to the UK so as I didn’t have to deal with their nervousness about this in person) but instead join up with a tour. At least that way my insanity would have company. And there would be someone looking for me if the run didn’t go exactly as planned. I settled on Spyns Tours, who specialize in the festival (as well as the Tour de France). I’m glad I took advantage of their expertise. Here’s a retro-look at my experience:

Day 1 - Getting Settled In

The first day was very basic. Get in, learn a bit and get some white pants were the day’s objectives. A walking tour of Pamplona’s “old town” area where the festival takes place taught me:

• that the bulls were brought to the “starting line” from the river the night before the run. This has been going on for 700 years. Somewhere along the line the locals decided to go for a run, and the rest (as they say) is history.

The Start Line

• that bulls are attracted to movement, and contrary to belief are actually color-blind. This was a valuable piece of intel that I put to great use later. 

• that I didn’t want to start my run at the beginning section along Cuesta de Santo Domingo. Not only is there no place to bail (solid rock wall on one side, building on another), but the first part of the run is deceptively uphill. I knew that adrenalin was only going to take me so far.

Getting the Scoop on the start of the run

• that listening for the rockets would be important. The first rocket launched in the morning signifies the opening of the bull’s gate. The second (and much more important rocket) says that the bulls are now on the move. 

• that the dress-code for the festival is for real. All over there were people dressed all in white with the red sash and bandanna. If you weren’t in costume you really did stand out. I think that was one thing that really made the event unique for me - that everyone got on the same page with their attire. I grabbed my white pants that night and thoroughly enjoyed wearing the festival uniform. 

• that on run day you needed to wait in the first town square for the police to give the all-clear. Go too far up the course and the police would toss you off when they did their sweep. Be drunk or on drugs and you would also get the boot. The one that surprised me was cameras. If they saw you with a camera on the course you would be tossed. Even if your camera was hands-free (i.e. strapped to your chest). I saw quite a few people get the boot on run day.

• that if you wanted to get off the course during the run do not climb over a fence. All that does is put your sensitive areas directly on the same plane as the bull’s sharp horns. Instead climb under the fence. I classified that as an important safety tip

• that if you went down during the run then stay down until you get tapped. This I think was my biggest concern - somehow falling to the hard road and getting trampled. 

• that if you somehow managed to stay vertical you may end up at the finish line, the local bullfighting ring. It is the third largest in the world behind Mexico City and Madrid. It was there that the fun would really begin (more later). 15,000 people would gather in the stands to watch the runners come in. If you arrived too early for the crowd’s liking (i.e. you chickened out of actually running with the bulls) the crowd would show their displeasure by pelting you with solid food items, and push you back into the ring if you tried to depart. 

Interior of Plaza de Toros

After the walk and dinner outside Cafe Irina (one of Hemingway’s favorites) I retired back to the hotel briefly before deciding to head back into town wearing the whites to check out the festivities

At night its amazing how many people talk of having ran that day...

 

All throughout the night I was struck by the vast number of partiers, the vast number of families, the total lack of anything even remotely resembling trouble, and how when I was leaving the old town around 1:00 am there were still droves of people coming into town.

Day 2 - aka “OMG What Am I Thinking?”

The day started with an early 0600h departure to get to the staging point for our walk into the city. Today was Balcony Day. A chance to see the mayhem up close, albeit from a safe distance. Once we got to the course we walked past Dead Man's Corner and onto the final straightaway of Calle Estafeta that led to the Plaza de Toro (aka the bull ring).

We walked past the amazing clean-up crew and many who were still caught up in last night's festivities. Some who were still going strong, some who were done (the pair of guys leaning/sleeping in a doorway) and those who should have been done (the guy who had his pants underwear yanked off him).

The balcony let us see the process of the police cleaning out the course, how the green-shirted shepherd's are treated like heroes (they try and keep the bulls and steers under some semblance of control) and something I didn't know - that the course is inspected each morning before the rockets are fired.

Clean up time

Suddenly there was a rush of movement and it was on. A mass of humanity moved down Estafeta followed closely by the bulls and then the steers. Chaos. And the speed in which it all transpired was just a wee bit scary. It all moved a lot quicker that I thought.

   

The rest of the day was spent wandering the streets taking in the sights and thinking about my plan for doing the run. Did I want to start before or after Dead Man's Corner? Did I want to get into the arena? Was this still something I wanted to do?

That night I was able to arrange for a ticket to the bull fight. I wasn't planning on going originally, but I thought that to miss it was to miss out on an essential aspect of the festival. Thankfully the hotel was able to arrange for a ticket on the shaded side. That was important, because if you happen to be on the sunny (i.e. the party side) things can get a bit messy and your clothes (and camera) can get a bit dirty.

I have to admit that I found the bullfight to be quite fascinating. I realized quite early that unless I was immediately prepared to renounce my long-term love affair with steak and embrace vegetarianism any thoughts as to animal cruelty should be set aside. 

The early part of the event featured many introductions of both the matadors and others involved, as well as introductions of the featured bulls.

 

I want Javier's nickname

Once the fight commenced it seemed to have 4 stages. When the bull was first let into the ring the "Peones" would  encourage the bull to run around so as to allow for the bullfighter to gauge the animal. 

Once the assessment was over, the "Picador" comes in on horseback. The horse is blindfolded so as to not get spooked by the bull and is padded on the sides. The "Picador's" role is to stab the back of the bull with his lance to weaken it. This guy is not well-liked by the crowd, as they are concerned he will weaken the bull too much and deprive them of a good show (of course, the bullfighter probably doesn't mind a too-weak bull).

After that the "Banderilleros" step in. It's their job to run at the bull and stick it with large steel darts in order to further weaken the bull. And of course to avoid being gored by the bull while they are doing this.

Now it's time for the Matador to take centre stage. He and the bull do an intricate dance all over the arena as the Matador attempts to dominate the bull, and then ultimately kill it as cleanly as possible.

Once the last bull is finished off the crowd then descends to the bull ring floor to savour the moment and maybe even pretend to be a bullfighter. Me? After a quick stop to collect some sand and take some pics I was off to get some sleep for the big morning.

Day 3 - It's Go Time

The whole get up/clean up/eat/get picked up thing just seems like a blur now. We got the pep talk from the Spyns boss on checking in post-run (otherwise they assume you are hurt and start looking for you) and checked so that we were not wearing anything that could get hooked on the horns. Then we were off to the waiting square. Still lots of discussion about where to start, as veterans would give their advice and all us rookies would soak it up while we waited for the rest of the course to open.

Confidence is high

I decided on skipping my initial plan to position myself just before Dead Man's Corner. After walking the course (a lot) the day before I realized if I wanted to make the arena I would have to be a bit more realistic about my capability. I settled on getting a position after Dead Man's Corner on Calle Estafeta, right where the balcony from yesterday was located. I figured that would leave me about 400 meters to the arena.

What followed was lots of waiting, joking, and most of all stretching. This was one run where I definitely did not want to pull up lame. Then it came....BOOM. Then another. Then the waiting. You could almost hear the wave of people coming before you actually could see them. You had the resist the urge to start running too soon.  Then suddenly you start to move forward, your brain shuts off and what follows is just instinctual action based on two ideas - keep moving forward and don't eat pavement. I think I was more concerned with dodging people than I was the bulls. I recall a few times looking over my left should and seeing a bull. I recall stepping over many bodies and nudging and even pushing my way through the crowd. I remember a guy in front of me elbowing someone out of the way and that guy coming up swinging as I ran past. Then the arena appeared in front of me and I used up everything to get inside before the door closed. Here's the video of the whole run:

 

Over right? Not quite. For once inside the arena the real show for the crowd starts. The "baby bulls" are released onto the floor (only one at a time) to race around and cause havoc with their rubber-capped horns. People try to touch the bull, play it, or even leap over it in a single bound. As you can imagine this doesn't always go well for the person. And to top it off, there are apparently very strict rules for interaction with the baby bulls. As one guy found out, the crowd doesn't take kindly to those who are viewed to have abused the baby bull. Me? I just found what I hoped was a nice quiet spot by the wall, not move (see - I do learn) and shoot some video. I admit there were occasional moments of fear when the baby came into my 'hood' and some goofball would be dancing around right in front of me while I remained still. My fear - he'd attract the bull and jump out of the way, leaving me as the target.

Glad I didn't end up like this guy

   

 I managed though to escape unscathed and as the last baby bull was moved out of the arena floor it was over. Like so many other moments in the past year it was now done. Time to pack up and head back to Barcelona for some beach time and to reflect on what it means to now be able to say that I have run with the bulls. 

And yes - I would do it again....