The Flight

Wyona says that it has been 28 hours between when we left home and when we got to the Hotel Sarmiento in Buenos Aires. I was wondering where the night went, but that is hard to tell because on the plane the windows go down and the passengers cover over their eyes with black-out glasses, or they plug themselves into non-stop movies. The stewardesses go up and down the isles giving drinks of water to those who are still awake. I saw movies on screens one that was either inches away from my face, on the back of Wyona’s seat in front of me, or so far away that I had to unbuckle my seat belt and move forward to touch the screen since I was right in the bulkhead. A large reach for such a small screen.

There was one small toddler on the plane. His mother let him walk up and down the isles. Many passengers were like me, noticing the single child stretch his legs on the flight to Toronto. That was in contrast to the connecting flight to Buenos Aires. Children in the arms of many of the young couples. My guess was that there were over 300 passengers on the plane. Well over. The connecting corridor through which we walked after our showing our boarding pass was lined with 2 wheelchairs and then so many strollers and baby carriers that I burst out laughing. Not just the old and the very young need special wheels. I couldn’t help but notice the even the very fit on the plane use special equipment. Thick socks and sturdy hiking boots made them stand out, as well as their elaborately designed backpacks buckling securely at the hips. With a single flourish of one arm, I watched a slight middle aged woman grab her backpack off the luggage carousel and buckle on her travelling pack. I wondered how many hours of training she had done before being able to do that.

I stood in the isles at the front of our section of the plane, looking down at the ground before landing in Santiago – my first glimpse of the Andes: small sections of farm land, green at the bottom of valleys where rivers run; winding switchback brown roads crawling to the top of some of the dry, yellow peaks. Just as I have seen in books, so why such a surprise to see that in real life, to want to stand there for long minutes as we flew over the mountains. 

Calgary was cold when I left. Plus Wyona had warned me there would be some cold days going around Cape Horn. I brought mitts, hats and coats for sub zero weather. The temperature on the plane was cool and I covered up with a sweater, a scarf, the airplane blanket and wondered when I would warm up. I was peeling off layers by time we got in the taxi for the ride down the causeway into Buenos Aires, a lovely 28 degrees above, such a surprising burst of heat. 

I pressed my nose to taxi window on the way into the city, watching the buildings of the suburbs, never really able to stop watching how families in apartments take care of their wash by hanging it in so many different styles on their balconies. The weathering of the cement buildings was noticeable – Greg said it is the climate that gets at the cement.

This evening, he took a walk around the streets of our hotel. Wyona stayed behind and asked the clerk at the desk where tomorrow’s market would be held. He gave her a map, drew some lines a few blocks over and then said, “Somewhere around here – if not this street then one over, but in this vicinity, somewhere. You will find it.”

Departure from Calgary

Leaving Calgary Friday February 21. Bon Voyage.

Arta, Greg, Wyona
"Let's check this luggage and start our holiday at the Air Canada Lounge."

Note the extra large zip lock bag on Wyona's trolley. It is housing our pillows for the trip. That is not counted as one of our eight pieces of luggage. Marcia commented to Wyona that if she can afford a cruise, then she can pay fifty dollars for a taxi to the airport. Marcia also queried Wyona as to why she needed all that luggage. "Oh well", Marcia said, "It is none of my business". We are too exhausted right now to have fun. Tomorrow is another day.

There is a reciprocity fee to enter Argentina. All three of us knew to get this registered and pay the fee well before we left. We printed out a copy showing that we had paid the reciprocity fee. That is what we showed Air Canada in Calgary. It worked. Then in Toronto we took out the same piece of paper and the Air Canada Checker showed us that we did not have the right print out. We had to go to two other places in order to get these passes printed out. It was a relief to Wyona when she typed in what she thought might be the username and password to renter the Reciprocity web sight. Always use the same user name and password.

London Bates-Treleaven Travels

This is Marcia typing from Wyona's account (my mom). Gabe and I arrived in London 24 hours ago, and a lot has happened since then. I don't know whether to start with the good list or the bad list. Let's do good first, it is shorter.

We saw Life of Pi on the plane. Gabe had never seen it before, it was my second time. We both really enjoyed it. We arrived at the London airport, and we took an express train from Gatwick to London, quite an enjoyable ride.

Wyona had switched things up at the Best Western we are staying at; originally she had a single room on the top floor and we had a double room close by. It has been so hot in London, so she went and checked at the front desk about other rooms available. They had a family room with a double bed and 2 single beds available in the basement. We switched to that instead and it has been fun to be in the same room. When we arrived at 10am she was still sleeping. She had switched to that room the night before because it was 10 degrees cooler than the sweltering upstairs room. Gabe and I checked out the room and really liked it... except for... that will have to wait for the next list.

We had a 3 hour nap while Wyona went to get us show tickets. Then at 2:30pm she and Gabe saw Billy Elliot and I went to Once at 3pm. Oh, Once was so beautiful. What talented musicians/singers/actors. Is it ok to cry in a show when you are by yourself? I wondered if Gabe was crying at all the right parts in Billy Elliot. He loved it and spent the evening singing 'Solidarity'. He also bought a hoody with Billy Elliot London on it, he loves that jacket already.

We met at Trafalgar Square after our shows. There was some big screen Opera event being set up, the crowds were already converging, and we snagged 6 free inflatable seat cushions before going to find a bite to eat before our next show. Always resourceful, those Pilling Aunts! I'm just not sure they will get used before we return to Canada, so far we haven't sat long enough to have sore bums that need seat cushions.

We took a 'rickshaw' ride to our next performance (more on that later), and we saw Merrily We Roll Along. I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it. A little too adult-themed for Gabe's understanding, but he still enjoyed the musical numbers. Gabe and Wyona went back to the hotel room during the interval (intermission), he was so tired... he put on a brave face, but with only 3 hours sleep in the past 36 hours, he was fading fast. The best number was in the second half. When they started singing The Blob, I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes, yet another show I cried in.

I went to Trocadero on my way home... what a lively place at 11pm! Took the tube back to the hotel room, called home to see how Art, Zack and Audra were doing, then slept soundly until 8:30 a.m. the next morning. Oh yeah, those two were still awake watching Waterworld on tv when I got back to the hotel, so we didn't go to sleep until 1 a.m.

What a wonderful first day... although now for the post about all that went wrong... 

A Near Miss

I thought Greg, Wyona and I were leaving for Vancouver on a 7 a.m. flight and then on to Hong Kong. She was sure the departure time was 12:05 pm. I said again to her, "I am pretty sure it is 7 a.m. I have been looking at that timing for the past couple of days." She said, no, -- noon. We traipsed downstairs at her house to look at the tickets. One set of tickets said noon, the other said 7 a.m.

“Greg? What does a person do when they have five hours to kill between flights,” Wyona asked.

“I usually walk,” he said. Then his eyes grew wide, for he thought he was coming along with us and would have missed his early morning flight. That is the way Aeroplan points work. He will get to the row of three seats we have booked together to fly across the Pacific, but not in the most convenient way. Wyona’s and my flight is different for we are using up the return ticket from when we flew back from Shanghai last year.

Wyona made me laugh tonight with her follow-up phone call. “I just want to warn you, we are not in a hotel for our three days there, but in something more like a hostel. Well, really it is a one-star hotel. No toiletries. No towels.” 

I don’t care.

For the curious, we will see Taipei (Taiwan), Nagasaki (Japan), Busan (South Korea), Jeju Island (South Korea), Tianjin (China), Shanghai (China), Kobe (Japan), Tokyo (Japan), Petropavlovsk (Russia), Seward (Alaska) and then continue on down the coast to Vancouver and home.

Arta

Nose at the Window

Wyona made some perfect cruise bookings.  The cruise companies changed itineraries, gave her minimal compensation and we were left with an insane return flight schedule to Canada.  Instead of going London – Calgary, the sensible thing to do, we are going London – Berlin – Barcelona – Frankfurt – Calgary.  There is some sunshine lining every cloud.  Because of the change in schedule, I have seen Berlin – not on my itinerary, but there it was before me today -- grey and I didn't get out of the airport -- but my passport is stamped, "Berlin".   

As well, my nose was pressed to the airplane window for the 15 minutes while we flew over the Mediterranean along the coast of Spain.  The blue of the ocean was cut by the curve of the land, and then the deep violet of the mountains behind were set off by the pink clouds in the sunset.  I was shaking my head, not believing I was seeing such beauty.

We tried to have supper at the hotel tonight, but true to Spanish custom, the dining room doesn’t open until 8:30 pm – far too late for us to begin a meal.  While we were talking to the maitre de, he drew his elastic barrier that runs between 2 silver poles in front of us, as though we were going to bolt and get into his dining room ahead of time.  Wyona, Greg and I took a vote and decided to have a genuine German sausage breakfast in Frankfurt tomorrow, instead and to call our foray into Wyona’s candy stash, supper.  At first, we thought we would walk into the community tonight and find a restaurant, but he clerk at the hotel desk reminded us it is Sunday today – only downtown Barcelona stores are open.  As well, this week are two holidays – one on Tuesday and one on Thursday.  So, he said, most people have taken off Monday, Wednesday and Friday and are just making a week of it.

I am looking forward to the German breakfast.  This morning I had English mustard when I went with Wyona and Greg to the Star Alliance Lounge in the airport.  I thought I was adding regular French’s Mustard to my plane, but at the first taste of it, and after I had recovered from that choking pungent taste, more akin to a eating mustard plaster than to tasting Canadian home-style mustard, I decided to give a new look to breakfast possibilities – thus the journey of looking foward to a German breakfast tomorrow.  Ah, the sweet cleansing of the sinuses for today.

I am hoping for another eating surprise tomorrow.

Arta

Woodhaven Park

The walk from Rebecca’s house to the underground is all downhill. To make things even easier than that, Wyona and I have downsized our luggage since the first cruise, but remember we left for 59 days – which is a lot of luggage to get into 2 suitcases.  And we are in every kind of weather – London winter and the heat of the November Mediterranean. The major downsizing occurred when trying to leave Barcelona last time.  You can check on-line if you have extra baggage and it costs $50 for that second piece. Since we didn’t do that, we were going to be charged by the pound for that suitcase:  $300. No matter how Wyona tried to negotiate, the price was firm.  We took our luggage close to a garbage can and began to divest ourselves of anything that seemed superfluous:  pocket-sized hand lotions, back-up shoes in case our first pair of walking shoes got wet, previous papers reminding us of where we had been.  And if the items were heavy and small they went to our handbags.  Wyona, who is good at estimating weight, said she was sure her handbag weighed 35 pounds at that point, but they don’t weigh those.  Then back we went to pay for the extra suitcase which was now down to $158 – a lesson learned.  The agent had to give just one last warning to her, saying, your carrying ons are also the wrong size.  In Europe we have smaller restrictions and we don’t honour the North American Standards, he said.  Suitably chastised we will make sure neither of those mistakes happen again.  Too costly.    

This is our first time on Royal Caribbean’s Independence of the Seas. Thirty-eight hundred people were trying to get on the ship at the same time, which is doable if the boat’s computers have not gone down.  If so, then there is a two block line-up outside of the terminal, after which there is a line that snakes for 18 columns back and forth before it turns a corner and that that crowd of people is out of sight.  No end to it.  The serpenting row leads you past the same people, line after line, until you know them well: which ones are carrying their formal clothes over their arms so as not to have them wrinkled, which couples have dressed to the nines just for the getting onboard experience, and which groups have come, either as family or friends.  And I saw one hideous scarf so many times that it began to look beautiful to me.  Greg says that the British are good at cuing, that they line up and then are jocular as they wait for their turn at the final counter.  He is right.  They make their standard jokes with each other. I keep falling behind in the cue.  I do not know how I can get 4 people behind in less than a few seconds.  At one point Wyona lifted barrier, told me to duck under and said, please, try to keep up with us.  I will take any chance to get into the race again, so I ducked under the barricade.  But it wasn’t long before someone was pushing past me again. “Please,” I said, to her, “Go ahead, your group must have passed you.”

“Oh, no,” she said, “my group is way back there,” pointing over her shoulder and behind her back. “But I was ahead of you.”  And then a frosty silence.  She must have seen me slip under one of the tapes.

“Be my guest,” I said, “I am slipping back and having trouble keeping up with my sister and brother-in-law who are ahead of me.  If you can find a way to make it to the front of the line, I am going to be your helper, for just keeping up with my group isn’t working for me.”

The line that snaked in one room, then requeued into one long line, ever longer, in the next room. I don’t know how those other old people stood on their feet for 2 ½ hours.  I looked pretty young in comparison to some of them.  One couple we fashionably dressed, not a wrinkle on their clothes, but I said to Wyona, those two over there are going to be nothing more than skeletons if this line takes any longer.