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Travel: Making You a Better Traveller, Part Two - Passenger Etiquette

If you have followed all of my previous travel advice, you have successfully booked your airline ticket, acquired an amazing seat, successfully maneuvered security and are now preparing to board.  In this episode, we will discuss how not to piss off your fellow travellers.  This is more important than, well, anything so please pay attention.

Getting onto an airplane with a hundred other travellers is one of the most extreme invasions of personal space known to man.  If my following list was mandatory reading and breaking these rules was punishable by death, this would still be an unpleasant experience at best.

Airline Passenger Etiquette - A Life Lesson

1.  Put your Overland Steamer trunk into Checked Baggage.  Those guides that the airlines provide with the carry-on baggage dimensions are meant as a maximum allowed, not a goal to be reached.  The overhead bins are for storing your fragile items and things that you may need while on the flight.  They are not meant to hold everything you are travelling with because you don't want to drag your lazy-ass to the luggage carousel following your flight.

2.  Think of the Seat Armrest as an Invisible, Impenetrable Barrier. If any of your body parts have ventured beyond this invisible line, immediately correct and apologize.  That includes, but is not limited to, shoulders, elbows, knees, feet and abdomen.  If there comes a time that you need to impose on someone's personal space because you forgot to pee before boarding and you have had a steady infusion of fluids, you must ask the victim to please excuse you.  You must never assume that the passenger on the aisle would rather remain seated and have you lap-dance your way out, even if said passenger appears to be sleeping.  Also, when standing up, use your own seat to maintain your balance not the seat and hair of the person in front of you.

3.  Shower.  Seriously.

4. Just because your Seat can Recline, does Not Mean that It Must. Fully reclining your seat is a huge intrusion into the limited amount of space that the person behind you has available.  If it is a long, overnight flight and the Flight Attendants have turned down the lights, acceptable.  Short flights, food or beverage service times, middle of the day; act like it's the middle of the day and sit up.

Exhibit A:  This picture was taken prior to taxi (yes, before the flight) around noon:

Is this really necessary?

5.  Children...*sigh*. If they are your children, they are your responsibility.  Take control!  Do not feed them every piece of airport sugar available prior to the flight.  Do not allow them to make faces and yell through the crack between the seats.  Do not allow them to touch people as they run up and down the aisles.  Do not ask your childless neighbour to hold them so you can eat your meal.  Do not fly with more children than you can handle; I strongly suggest no more than a 1:1 ratio.  Please consider flying during their regular sleep time and feel free to discuss mild sedation therapies with your family doctor.

6.  Conversation with your Flight Neighbour.  Really not mandatory.  Pleasantries are fine but, if your neighbour answers with one word, smiles politely and then goes back to her reading, you likely should not be asking about her job, children, home address and political views and it's probably safe to assume that she doesn't want to know about yours.  We are all forced together in our assigned seats so, please, do not consider a flight as a place to make business contacts or find a date.

Enjoy your flight and try to let others enjoy theirs.

Travel: Making You a Better Traveler Part One - Pre-Flight

Traveling is something that everyone should try to do at some point.  My life has been enriched and my world broadened by the few, yet noteworthy, countries I have visited, the diverse people I have met and the supercool pictures I have taken.

Having said that...

Today, and over the next few entries, I will take it upon myself to bust the illusion of glamour out of world travel and possibly give a few hints on how to make it not suck quite so much.

I travel for work, a lot, so I am getting better at it; better at handling the system, not the experience.  Despite what the airline and tourism propaganda would like us to believe, travel is no longer the glorious, awe-inspiring episode in our lives that we should feel lucky to encounter.  Because of increased security, low-ball flight prices and airline market grappling, passengers are herded into cues, rushed through intrusive security checks, touched, and then crowded onto an aircraft that has as many seats as the airlines can possibly fit into a small space.

Following are a few of my personal recommendations that will help you feel a little more in control of your glorious flying experience; all found through trial, error and survival instinct.

Flight Planning.

Book your flight online.  By doing so, you will have electronic access to your flight information including the airline’s small print, luggage rules, schedule, aircraft type and seating.

Select your seat.  If you don’t choose your own seat, you will be seated in a middle seat that doesn’t recline and is dangerously close to the toilets, I promise you.  Depending on the airline and/or flight, you can choose a seat when booking but sometimes they charge for that privilege.  Check your online information a month and a week before your flight to see if the “seat selection” option has become available.  At the latest, you can check in online 24 − 36 hours in advance and select your seat then.

Even if you have been brilliantly proactive and have selected your seat ages in advance, check back as the airline may have changed aircraft and your emergency row exit aisle seat will then have become cattle class middle seat.  It happens.

If you would like to know which seats are the best ones on your flight, check out an aircraft seating sight such as SeatGuru.  SeatGuru has layout diagrams of most airlines’ aircraft with explanations as to why certain seats are better or not so good.   When selecting my seat, my first choice is an emergency row exit seat for a few good reasons:  extra legroom, no kids allowed and I figure that someone slightly competent should be sitting there in case there actually is an emergency.

Check in online!   Select your seat, check in online and print your boarding pass at home.  If you do not, the airline can still change your seat because someone is at their counter, in their face, whining for your seat.  Secure it!  Also, some airports have a much shorter cue if you have already printed your boarding pass and only need to check your baggage.

Speaking of baggage.  Most airlines allow one check in piece with a weight limit and one carry-on piece plus a purse or small camera bag.  Pack your suitcase as though it will be thrown into a demolition derby arena in a rain storm. That would be a mere warm-up compared to what airline baggage handlers are capable of.  A small yet worthy investment:  a wrap around suitcase strap that you can purchase for under 10 euros at any luggage shop.  When your guaranteed-for-life suitcase zipper breaks on its first voyage, you will be glad that at least some of your unmentionables are still on board.

Pack your carry-on bag so that you can locate, remove and replace everything contained therein faster than a sniper can assemble his rifle in the bushes.  Start packing your bags empty so that you have no reminders of your last outing brought to your attention by airport security.  That can be an embarrassing and expensive oversight.  No liquids greater than 50 ml, no lighters, no multi-tools, no knives, no nail clippers, no scissors, no you can NOT take the bottle of water that you just purchased..... not an exhaustive list by any stretch.  You will have to take out your laptop, liquids and possibly your camera for inspection so do not bury them at the bottom of your bag.  No one in the security line up wants to see your colourful boxer-briefs and condom collection that you must remove to get at your computer.... yay, Amsterdam.

While we are on the topic of airport security....

Simple rule:  Don’t Wear Metal.  If you do, you will have to take it off.

In most airports, you will have to remove belts, shoes, jackets, all pocket contents, watches and costume jewellery.  If you have a metal plate somewhere in your body, carry a medical card stating that you have one, unless you haven’t had any action in a while and you enjoy the thorough search that you are sure to receive.  To each his own, I don’t judge.

Dear Airport Security:  Bras have underwire.  Most women over the age of consent are wearing them.  This should no longer be a surprise but, thanks for the grope, it made me feel special.

Well, I’m exhausted.  The next instalment will be a must read about the flight and passenger etiquette; feel free to quote me.

From Here to There

Today it is not -20C so I can't complain too much but this is where I currently live stay and work:

In one week, after the horror version of Planes, Trains and Automobiles has run its full 30-hours in reverse, I will be home to this:

 

The countdown is on!

I have three cameras on the go at any given time and I am continually downloading pictures so, here's the kicker, both of these pictures were on the same SD card which had only been in my camera for a week.  Defines "World's Apart".

Invasion of the Season

In Canada, I am accustomed to the onslaught of Christmas commercialism within hours of the Halloween Jack-O-Lanterns witnessing the sunrise; streets and stores strewn with boughs and bobbles, repeat-play of Bing's White Christmas and Elvis' Blue Christmas from every speaker and, whipped cream and sparkles on the coffees that, only the day before, came with milk and sugar.  This is normal.  I know when Christmas day is from the advent calendars and I know that Santa Claus pitches up at the shopping malls somewhere around the end of November or the day of the US Macy's Parade.  Normal for me.

In The Netherlands, mid-November on a Sunday, Sinterklaas arrives by steamboat from Spain with his helpers, the Zwarte Pieten.  I know!  I was a little freaked out, too.

Last year, I returned from a work mission to see these characters roaming the streets.  Having just finished thirty hours of travel and definitely not in close control of my wits, I thought it would be better to walk briskly, make no stops and, for-God's-Sake, do NOT make eye contact.

Once safely in my second story flat, I reassessed the view of the market street out the window, much like one of those scary-jumping-spiders that hangs out above my doorway, watching, learning.

In addition to what I could only describe as black-impersonating-court-jesters smiling, dancing and singing in the streets, there were identical stuffed dolls as integral parts of the Christmas Sinterklaas window displays.  Must be a trend of some sort if they have already made dolls fashioned after these guys.

The response that I got from another Expat who I asked about this invasion was, "I don't know, I'm just trying to figure out when it ends."  Hmmmm.

Must Google.

As is the norm with the World Wide Web, there are as many stories about these guys as there are hits on the Web.  So, following I will tell you my loose interpretation of these goings-ons.

Sinterklaas, like most of our interpretations of the Great Mid-Winter Bearer of Gifts, shows up from somewhere else and makes good on the parental threats of naughty and nice.  I have to say that it's a little more disturbing than my childhood memories where the big risk was getting a lump of coal in my stocking if I didn't Stop Tormenting my Brother.  Dutch kids are risking a public "birching" if they have been slightly naughty and, if they have been a real pain in the ass to their parents, they will just get thrown into a burlap sack and taken back to Spain to be dealt with there.... quickly and quietly... never to be seen again.  Bloody Hell!  Nice way to kick off the season!

Enough of that, back to these guys, the Zwarte Pieten (Black Petes).  The nice version that contemporary Dutch like to pitch is that they are Sint's "helpers" and they are black from traveling down the chimneys to fill the children's clogs with gifts.  Oh yeah?  Then why are there suits so brightly coloured still?  How do they keep their whites so white and their colours so bright?

Anyway, friendly bunch though their true history stems from anywhere from Satan himself being captured and forced to work for the Big Man, to Moorish slaves well... being captured and forced to work for the Big Man.  Either one makes total sense to me but, I have to say, though the Satan one seems to be a little more in tune with the season with ridding the world of evil and all, the slavery story is more in keeping with the times and the originating locale.

Either way, wherever they have come from, I have to say that I can't think of a culture that does not have some lack of altruism in its past so, my thoughts, embrace your history and talk the foreigners down off the ledges.

And... please tell me what you guys use to remove that black paint.  That is a make-up remover I have to have.

Happy Sinterklaas!

Fooled Again!

Asking for a nice dry red wine in Russia is like asking for a virgin in a brothel.  They will always try to sell you one that they claim is really close but, you both know in your hearts that it's just not the truth.

The latest sales pitch:

The grapes are grown on the same latitude as the Bordeaux region in France, see:

Also, the name of the wine is Cru Lermont a 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon from Fanagoria!  It wasn't one of the usual Moldavian offerings that taste like flat Fanta Grape soda.  It was also over double the price of any other wine in the shop.  It had to be good not too bad.

After the first taste, I almost dumped it out.  However, desperate times call for desperate measures (remember the volcano delays?) so the Fanagorian Wine has now been mixed with Cherry juice and mineral water.  If I close my eyes, stand by the window and feel the cool evening breeze while taking very small sips, I can almost imagine that I am drinking a Sangria on the beach by the North Sea.  Almost...

My advice for those visiting Russia and wanting a nice glass of red wine:  Drink Vodka.

In World News..... The Part That Affects Me.

So, there's this volcano on the south side of Iceland.

The last time Mount Eyjafjallajokull erupted was almost 200 years ago and the eruption lasted well over a year.  Nice.  It has erupted four times in recorded history and each of the previous three times it has set off it's sister volcano, Katla, which happens to be a meaner more powerful volcano.  So far, Katla is still resting easy but one has to take a serious look at history.

The ash cloud from Mount Eyjafjallajokull, on its own, has caused the largest travel disruption in the world, ever.  Almost all of European airspace is shut down until further notice (remember the year long eruption last time?) and, depending on the source, the air travel industry is losing somewhere between 200 and 600 million euros per day.  All trains, ferries, cabs, rental cars, rickshaws and donkey carts are booked full for weeks already.  Hundreds of thousands of people are stranded somewhere and hotels have been reported as full and doubling their regular rates.

So far, it has only been two days.

I am not a conspiracy theorist for the most part but I have been watching for asteroids, earthquakes and showers of frogs.  I'm not going to depend on our world leaders to keep me in the loop.

Barring the end of the world thing, my next dearest concern is that I'm stranded in Russia.  I am due to get home to The Netherlands on Thursday which may seem like enough of a buffer (5 days) but, my relief crew must depart The Netherlands on Tuesday which is not quite so far away.  They don't show, I don't go.  The escape pod only comes once per week.

Of course, for the first time in my life, I have booked my initial week home absolutely chock-a-block full with appointments, some including other flights.  Seriously, first time ever.  Bloody hell.  These are not just Tupperware parties and nail appointments, well, okay, there is a nail appointment, but the rest are really important meetings for registrations and licenses and visas and stuff.

I never make appointments; this causes me pain.

So, as I sit and sip on a glass of Chianti, wondering if I have enough stock to weather the storm, I have to consider that the world is trying to tell me something.

Does my family need more time to finish unpacking and organizing le chateau?

Do I need time to learn more Russian than, "Good Morning", "Thank you" and "No soup for me"?

Should I not be so brazen as to commit to a schedule when I haven't made it back into the country yet?

Should I spend more time in the gym?

Because, of course, this whole volcanic eruption thing must have something to do with me.  It's a message.

To all the weary travelers and citizens of the world out there who are feeling the exact same way; best of luck and I wish you a quick and safe return to wherever you really want to be.  For me, it's home to my family

....... the quasi-factual stuff cited above came from various sources such as Yahoo news, bbc, Wikipedia, some volcano geek sites, NASA, met sites, etc.  What can I say?  I've been surfing this shit all day.

The Short and Sweet, The Down and Dirty, The Quick Update....

• DHL Courier Service came right with me. I was contacted by a Manager from the office that keeps a picture of my face on their dartboard. He apologized for the problems, updated me on their investigation, told me that he had read my blog (and liked my writing) and reimbursed me for the value of the damaged and stolen items.  He was sincere and helpful.  It would have been really nice to have received that help from the beginning but, I am satisfied.  DHL, I hope that you realize that you have a diamond in that office amongst the, well, non-diamonds.

• My Dad has since received a replacement Russian Aviator watch, though not the exact same style, from an excellent company in Germany called Poljot.  Julian Kampmann of Poljot was very impressive and offered personalized service, quick shipping and a great presentation which included a description and history of the watch and a bag of Russian cookies.
  

• I lost my small camera on our ski trip.  I loved that camera.  It was an Olympus 1030SW; shock resistance, water proof and freeze tolerant.  It was me-proof.  It was tough.  It didn't need a prissy case for protection.  It could be thrown into my pocket, fall out, get dropped in the snow, swing on the wrist strap and smash into everything in sight and it was no worse for wear.  Unfortunately, it was not loss-proof.  I must have dropped it out of my hoodie pocket one too many times.  Or it made a dive to escape the abuse; which is also a believable story.  The good news is that, after a few years of not making quite as nice a product, Olympus has brought back a new and improved version.  I am now the proud owner of an Olympus uTough digital camera; 14 megapixels of metal, gaskets, rivets and locks that would make a submarine proud.  Great camera.  Now the only things that I am missing are the hundreds of photos that I took on that last ill-fated trip and, my RayBan Sunglasses.  The sunglasses were accidentally left on the aircraft but, apparently, no great loss since I looked like an 80's porn star wearing them.  I've been wearing them religiously for the last two years but I guess I couldn't be told that I looked like an 80's porn star until after I had lost them.

• We have bought a house.  The only transaction that requires more time, effort, money, meetings, paperwork, blood and tears to successfully complete in The Netherlands than buying a house, is getting married.  Oh, and having cable TV installed.

• A little known fact:  Berlin, Germany is the closest Canadian Visa office to The Hague, Netherlands even though The Hague is pretty much the International Hub of Europe, arguably.  I was surprised.  Next trip: Berlin.
  

Basketballs: Toy or Dangerous Lure

Driving through Andorra on one of our non-skiing days, we happened upon so many beautiful sites including abandoned churches, working farms that had buildings built from stones dragged straight out of the fields, archways, fountains and this small, unassuming foot bridge.

Things like this totally amaze me.  Incredible; the thought, planning and sweat that had to go into building something that will stand forever and, apparently... lead nowhere.  See that mountain on the left?  That's all we saw once we crossed it, too.  No trails, no continued road no little stone house.  I kept expecting some inconspicuous bush to blow aside in the wind to reveal a secret doorway to another world.  Didn't happen.

Taryn-the-nineteen-year-old-girl billygoated up the mountain a little ways for a better vantage and the Boys saw a basketball.  As they wistfully watched the basketball, their unicorn, bouncing in an eddy, all Werner-the-amazing-man had to say to Liam-the-fifteen-year-old-boy was, "Too bad we can't have that, hey?"

Three seconds later:

As it turns out, that large rock that Liam was hanging onto in this picture was not as well-earthed as it appears. I stopped breathing while I watched that rock and a truckload of dirt and debris come down on him and only started breathing when I heard him laughing; little shit.  Boys are a pain in the ass.

I had some really great pictures but subsequently lost my camera so, these photos are from Werner's camera.  They are good pictures but he obviously didn't want any photographic evidence of the ensuing disaster; destruction of wildlife, trespassing, breaking my son's leg because of a dare, so many things.

Anyway, no worse for wear.

Success!

Andorra; A True Utopia

Having moved my family from a small Canadian alpine ski community to Flatlands, Europe, it has been a challenge and a responsibility to find an appropriate mountain retreat for the clan.  It had to be some place that had enough variety to challenge the new twin-tipped-donning-Kamikaze-boy, provide a nice view for the more relaxed skiers in the family and have adequate bars, green slopes, instructors and medical facilities to satisfy the needs of our newest clan member, the ski-virgin from South Africa.  And, then there's the budget.  No easy task.

After many hours of feeding search engines with things like "Europe ski hills beginner advanced x-ray beer inexpensive" and "green to black ski runs not in Switzerland" and "cheap flights, good skiing" and coming up with nothing, I saw Andorra sneaking into the ranks.

Now, I had heard the name Andorra before but I thought it was some made up place for a movie or something like Bregna or Dinotopia or Narnia or the name of the Agnes Moorehead character on Bewitched.  No.  Real location; a country, no less.  It can be easily found on Google Maps if you just type in the name and then zoom and zoom and zoom in some more.

To save energy; it is a very small country in the Pyrenees wedged between France and Spain.

Proof:

Really exists.

Fantastic place!  Tax-free, friendly people, good food and wine, mild weather, ski instructors who will respond on a moment's notice and friendly doctors with X-ray machines right at the ski hill.

We stayed at a bed and breakfast in the ski town of Pas de la Casa called Hotel Les Truites; an amazing little family run place where the owner cooks fresh cut bacon and bread over the open fireplace in the lobby's corner for breakfast each morning.  He also let us keep our car parked in their loading zone for days which kept us from parking where this guy did:

We will stay there again.

Prior to the ski adventure, the Offspring both taunted the Amazing Man with ski horror stories; death, dismemberment, insanity, the usual, but they also reassured him that they both went on to great skiing/snowboarding adventures despite the fact that they were each taken out by ski patrol in their early days.  Just not nice and most certainly the main reason that he insisted on skiing out like a war hero holding onto his subluxed shoulder.  Nothing a huge bandage, sling, Advil and red wine couldn't deal with.

Special thanks to the great Dr. Escoda from the Centre Medic Pas de la Casa.  Good guy.

In other great adventures in Andorra:  THE TOBOTRONC!!  Imagine riding on a go-cart seat attached to rollercoaster rails flying down La Rabassa mountain side for over 5km having total control over your own destiny with a single levered hand-brake.  Taryn went last of the four of us and I was becoming a bit concerned when she seemed to be taking a little longer than I expected.  Her only comment to us on her arrival was that the signs at the sharper corners that said to apply brakes were NOT meant as a mere suggestion.

Me, "They were in some language that I didn't understand, obviously."

Her, "Pictures?"

Well...

It's been a long time since I have seen my family get off a ride and run to the back of the line to do it again.  Amazing.

Other great finds in Andorra:  amazing stone architecture, windy roads, very long tunnels and a motorcycle museum cleverly hidden beneath a church parking lot.

What more could you want?

Bringing in 2010 With a (Few) Bangs

This past New Year's Eve I discovered something I Love about The Netherlands and, at the same time, the offspring discovered something they did not previously know about me.

Anyone over the age of sixteen years old in The Netherlands can purchase enough explosives fireworks to sink Sweden and you can set them off pretty much anywhere as long as you only do it on the last three days of the year. Because those are the safe days when skin and buildings don't burn in The Netherlands.  The laws here are truly endearing.

What did the kids learn about me? That I am a closet pyromaniac. The girl looked a little concerned as I excitedly fawned over the display models in the back-alley, temporary firework store.  As she watched me light firecrackers to throw out the window of the Volvo, she asked me if I was the same Mother who wouldn't allow her to jump on a trampoline.  No comparison, I say!

The Loot!



This made me very happy.

We had a few trials on the way home just to see what we were dealing with; throwing them on ice is very cool, under cars and near discarded televisions: not such a good idea. 

Once home, we packed four backpacks with lighters, fuses, explosives and a bottle of Goldstrike (because alcohol and explosives are always a good mix), dressed for the weather, filled our pockets with firecrackers and started down the city street giggling at how illegal this is everywhere else in the world.

In Canada, fireworks were only set off by some sort of explosives experts after securing the necessary permits, cordoning off 10 acres of land and having the local fire department on stand-by.  Hell, Werner would land in a South African labour camp for life for carrying a fraction of the arsenal that we had in our pockets.  We lit 5 centimetre fuses then ran and hid behind the nearest tree; worked out just as well as far as I could tell.

Unfortunately, in our untethered excitement, Werner, the kids and I managed to fire off almost everything except a few firecrackers by about 7:00 in the evening.  All that was left to do after that was to listen to everyone else who paced themselves a little better which made our street sound like a warzone until around 5:00 in the morning.  Only a few explosions actually shook the house a little.

All in all - great time!  The kids chose to hang with us on New Year's Eve, we only spent money on rockets and pizza, we walked everywhere and we brought in 2010 together while sipping champagne and watching all of Holland setting off fireworks from their back decks.