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Europe Ukraine

Kyiv, Ukraine

I liked Kyiv instantly. I don’t know if it is because I already have a fondness for former Soviet cities or because my maternal grandparents were from the Ukraine or if it is just because it is awesome. Probably a mix of those things. It had everything I wanted for my first international trip during COVID. It felt like Europe, but distinctly Eastern Europe with imposing architecture, a good bustle, ornate churches, nightlife, and a bit of a sense of order. Normally I prefer chaos, but in a time of such caution about travel, a bit of order seemed prudent.

As a Canadian I didn’t need a visa to enter the country, so I breezed in. My COVID test was checked, but only briefly. Soon I was in a taxi, with a new passport stamp, on my way to my hostel in Podil.

Podil is the oldest part of Kyiv and was a great place to stay. I could walk basically everywhere I wanted to go – to all the main churches and squares. And it is a great area of restaurants, cafes, and a bustling nightlife. It was also the location of a proper cigar lounge – a bonus for me.

I was staying at the Dream Hostel Kyiv. It was great. Easy to find and close to all sorts of things. It has a cafe and court yard, good wifi, hot water, a kitchen, laundry, and a proper hang out area, where people were actually hanging out. It would seem that even during COVID, hostels are still a thing, as they were before. When I originally booked this trip a year before, I was going to stay in a dorm, but I figure with the COVID hoopla (and I was only half vaccinated at this point) a private room would be better. It was. I still shared a bathroom, but that seemed ok. Technically masks were required inside, but they were generally not worn. I stayed there at both legs of the Kyiv part of my visit.

The hostel was on a long, historic and hilly street called Andriivs’kyi descent, the bottom of which is in Podil and the top connected with the centre of town, as marked by the stunning Saint Andrews Church, which was the first of many stunning churches that I visited.

Seriously, I went to so many churches, I am sure I have some sort of Orthodox Christian brownies points, notwithstanding a lifetime of dedicated sinning.

I won’t break it down day by day, as I was in Kyiv for about 4 days and I spent most of it wandering; not entirely aimlessly, but from church to park to monument to art gallery to market, making significant detours along the way, as interesting things popped up.

Kyiv is a serious cafe town and I drank an obscene amount of espressos whenever I wanted a break or some wifi.

I delighted in the architecture. Seldom was it quaint or charming, but it was often impressive, overwhelming, and ornate.

It really is a great city for walking. Relatively easy to navigate, with surprising hidden bits. I was looking, for example, for some gallery that I never found, but in what looked like a courtyard car park I found a charming bookstore/cafe. I stumbled upon street art and gardens.

*bird statues in a park I found by accident*

Make no mistake. This is a big city and I did a lot of walking, but it was always worthwhile, even when I did not find what I was looking for, I found things I didn’t know I wanted.

The public transportation was excellent. There is a vast subway system with stations that tout themselves as ornate. I qualify that statement not because they are not attractive (they are) but because once you have been to Moscow, all other subway stations have to be considered in their shadow.

Because Podil is at the bottom of a long hill, there is a handy little funicular to whisk one from the sea to the centre. The walk is also fine but I do love a funicular. I should mention that, like all things, transportation was very cheap in Kyiv. A ride on the subway or funicular was 8 hryvnia or about 35c Canadian.

One of the things I loved about about Kyiv is the smoking culture. This is a place where people smoke. You aren’t supposed to smoke inside, but outside it was totally fine and no one even gave me so much as a disapproving glance for lighting up a cigar over breakfast, for example, provided I was on a patio. It was great.

I really felt like I fit in, which is odd, as usually I’m in places where I stand out more as being from somewhere else. But in Kyiv, as a pale-faced, spiked leather jacket wearing woman with dyed black hair, I looked like a local. This was to the point where people were asking me for directions, which I took as a badge of pride. Hopefully I didn’t set too many people off in the wrong direction.

Most of my evenings were spent wandering around Podil, which each night seemed like a party, with buskers, streets teeming with people, and on many nights, a literal dance party just in the middle of the street.

And on one night it was an actual festival of sorts complete with a stage with live music and some traditional dancing.

At the beginning of my trip I spend just a day and a half in Kyiv before taking a day trip to Chernobyl and then a night train the following day to Lviv. Fresh posts for those places.

Just a note on spelling. It used to be Kiev, which is the Anglicized version of the Russian spelling, but after Ukraine became independent it switched to the Ukrainian spellings (or, for foreigners, the Anglicized versions of the Ukrainian spellings), so it is now Kyiv and not Kiev. People didn’t seem too bothered about it in Kyiv where Russian was the most prevalent language, but in Lviv, people very much wanted things to be spelled in the Ukrainian way. And rightly so.

Europe Ukraine

Travel in Ukraine (during covid)

I waited, I followed the rules. I cancelled my international trips and bided my time for a year during covid-19 … until I couldn’t any longer. What if it went on another year? Was I really going to stay home because the government advised not to travel? Or because I was put off by a legally mandated hotel quarantine (followed by a home quarantine)? By a plethora of covid tests? No. After a year I decided for myself that it was time. So I booked and took one of my cancelled trips from 2020 and in 2021 I went to Ukraine.

My packing list changed somewhat. I brought masks for the flights and a computer in case I got stranded and had to work. My pre-travel planning was overwhelmed by figuring out what tests I needed and when to meet the requirements of Canada, Ukraine, and KLM. And I bought mysterious covid health insurance as required from the Ukrainian government. None of this was any more difficult than figuring out how to get visas for West Africa or traveling to the Congo during Ebola, for example, so I felt well equipped, but there was extra hassle, cost, and preparation involved. I was delighted though because I was going to leave the country for the first time in 14 months.

I flew from Vancouver to Amsterdam and then on to Kyiv. The first flight was empty. Shockingly so. Everyone who wanted a row to themselves had one, with rows in between. It was a nice way to fly, but you can’t help but think about his much the industry is suffering. Everyone wore their masks without complaint. It was orderly and pleasant.

The flight from Amsterdam to Kyiv was different. It was packed and masks appeared to be optional. I mean, they weren’t, but people just didn’t wear them, or wore them as a sort of chin warmer. The flight attendants didn’t even try to fix the situation beyond saying at the start of the fight that masks were required. I think they have given up. Coming from Canada where people are so obedient, it was a bit of a shock, but I wore my mask, so I felt ok about it. If I had gotten worked up it probably would have spoiled my trip because people in Ukraine really didn’t follow any of the covid protocols. On the subway people were pretty good about masks, but indoors elsewhere … it was like there was not even a pandemic on.

People were bald-faced (or at least with their masks worn on their chins) and in close proximity. Bars and restaurants were crowded and spilled out on the street. People crowded, smoking, around tall tables, drinks in hand. Or they danced in groups, recklessly breathing into each other’s faces. The common areas at my hostel still had groups of backpackers hanging out, going to parties, and bunking in dorms. There were no plexiglass barriers. No socially distanced queues. A girl on the street even high-fived me after she borrowed my lighter. It was kind of great.

I am well aware that at the time I was there, Ukraine had one of the worst covid outbreaks in Europe, so their disregard of pandemic rules was probably not great at all, but for me it was a welcome sight. A reminder that life could be normal, that it was relatively normal elsewhere, and maybe Canada would again be normal. It was a jolt out of the relentless pandemic ennui I had been languishing in at home.

I should say that in most restaurants the servers did wear masks and I did stop by one fancy mall (to use the washroom) and they required masks and took my temperature, but those were definitely the exception. I did wear masks inside when I couldn’t socially distance and I sanitized my hands and whatnot. Getting sick would have meant not being able to fly home. So I was careful, but I enjoyed it when others did not.

I am mentioning this all right off the top in my first Ukraine post because I don’t want to keep talking about it in my other posts. This is the way it was. It was the middle of a pandemic and it did affect my trip, but it was not the dominant characteristic of it. There is more to say that is not about coronavirus, so let’s get to that in a fresh post.

me. happy to be in a plane. I know I don’t look it, but that is my happy face.

Africa Benin West Africa Trip 2019

Cotonou, Benin

Ouidah to Cotonou, Benin was another easy shared car. I just stood by the road, put my hand out and within a minute I had a ride. Again it was a car of five men and me, but this time I got to ride up front.

The thing about Cotonou is that it is big, so when we arrived by car, they dropped me off at a large intersection but I had no idea where I was. I tried to get my bearings, but my paper maps for Cotonou were not detailed enough and there were no landmarks in view. Fortunately – and I am not saying this to boast of my preparation but just because I recommend it in general for traveling in counties where you don’t speak the language and transit infrastructure is lacking – is that at least I knew of two landmarks near my hotel. The moto drivers who approached me all knew the Etoile Rouge, a big traffic circle with a communist tower in the centre. One of the few recognizable landmarks.

I took a moto there, then found my street and started walking toward the hotel. Or so I thought. The smaller streets are named according to some pseudo-dewey decimal system that matched up to neither of google maps nor lonely planet’s. Thankfully (another humble brag) I had taken a screen shot of my hotel, so I just walked until I saw a white 3 storey block-ish building. Success.

I was staying at the Hotel Saint Jean, which is a functional hotel of no particular charm near-ish to the Etoile Rouge and the crafts market. The neighbourhood itself is not full of sights, but it is a terrific transit route and is full of restaurants. I liked it. And, as usual, the people at the hotel were so nice and helpful. I think I was a bit of a curiosity to them as I was the only person staying there who was not in town for an educational conference. I loved that outside the hotel all day and in to the evening women would sit ant cook up various meals over fires at the roadside.

I spent four days in Cotonou. I did day trips (to Ganvié and Porto Novo) on two of those days and spent two just in the city. Cotonou is very spread out so it takes some time to see. The good thing is, you can get around for a pittance on the motos. The bad thing is, if you are averse to riding helmet-less on the back of small motorbikes with strangers, you are kind of screwed. There is no bus system or metro and car taxis are few and far between. Fortunately, I am happy to play fast and loose with my cranial security.

Mostly in Cotonou I picked things and areas that I was interested in and I wandered around. I really liked it there.

I went to the cathedral, which is one of the other main landmarks due to its candy cane exterior. I also had a screen shot of that on my phone that I could show to drivers, which came in handy.

From there there was lots to walk to. Supermarkets and gelato shops, a wonderful riverfront with a breezy patio at the Hotel Le Berlin where I smoked and read, watching fishing boats pass by.

*sitting on the patio at Hotel Le Berlin*

I walked to the Danktopa Market. Passing, along the way numerous inviting cafes and the grand mosque.

The market is a sprawling, crowded chaos of everything a market should have and some thing it shouldn’t, like a smaller but decidedly less touristy fetish market, complete with all the skulls and dried dead things you could desire.

I am glad I went to the market, though it was the one place I could not relax. Upon arrival I attracted a dozen or so rotating shop keeps who followed me trying to convince me to look at their wares. Mostly they kept trying to sell me knock-off designer handbags and clothes, in which I couldn’t be less interested. I might have stayed longer, but I just couldn’t get the anonymity I craved. Maybe I was naive for thinking I could.

I went to the artisanal crafts market, which is a great place to walk around even if you are not shopping. It is leafy and quiet and there are at least 3 good places to sit on a patio and eat and drink. There I smoked cigars and had some good conversations with assorted characters. What I really enjoyed, and never tired of, was watching the women with impossible items stacked on their heads as they walked with fierce confidence, like they were wearing some grand chapeaus from the Paris runway.

From there I walked to the Institute Français, which had a photo exhibit. En route though I walked past the army barracks, where I was invited to some in for a drink at the mess hall with the soldiers. I have to be honest – I declined, and I kind of regret it in hindsight, but at the moment I was confused by the combination of inviting ambiance, a cordial invitation, and the abundance of fatigues and firearms.

Much like in Ouidah, there was a Fondation Zinsou, which had wonderful modern art and a superb cafe / shop.

Aside from just walking around, the only other area I purposely visited was the Cadjehoun neighbourhood, which is where the embassies and bars and eateries for expats and travellers are. It is a nice neighbourhood with fancy white houses surrounded by high walls and armed guards, flowering shrubberies, luxury cars, and some pretty nice patios and restaurants. It was worth it for the nice pizza but it was my least favourite neighbourhood in Cotonou because it both lacked local character and felt kind kind of unsafe. The presence of armed guards means that something bad is expected to go down. In the rest of the city, that was not the case.

Two busy days in Cotonou was enough, but I used my two extra days to visit Ganvié and Porto Novo, each of which were wonderful in their own right.

Benin was the basis for this whole trip and it did not disappoint, even if I did not get to see anything in the way of voodoo magic.

Togo West Africa Trip 2019

Lomé, Togo

To get to Lomé from Accra one can take a comfortable bus with the STC company, but they only run on certain days and I was to travel on an off day. I did not relish traveling by tro-tro, crammed in a hot minivan with countless others, so I decided to travel by shared taxi. I caught a regular taxi from my hostel to Tudu Station, which isn’t so much a station as it is a collection of cars, vans, and vendors all loudly vying for one’s attention.

The deal with a shared taxi, as with a tro-tro, is that the vehicle leaves when it is full. Fortunately I didn’t have to wait long. And I got the front seat. The 3.5 hour drive to the border was about $10 cdn and quite comfortable.

The border experience was fine. I went to 4 checks, 2 on each side. (I had applied for and received my visa whilst still in Canada.) The guards were friendly. One flirted, another insisted on taking my picture as I crossed out of Ghana. Whenever I started to go the wrong way someone kindly ushered me in the right direction.

And just like that, I was in Togo. Immediately different from Ghana in that it is a French speaking country and suddenly baguettes are for sale from baskets atop women’s heads (along with everything else.)

On the other side of the border I needed a taxi. Before I even had time to haggle, a man and his wife found me a driver they knew, made sure he knew where my hotel was, and got me a good price. But even had they not assisted, getting a taxi would not have been a problem. They were right there.

My hotel, Residence Hoteliere Oceane, was an odd pseudo-French countryside castle design with African art. I had a two level suite (quite unnecessary, really) and a little seating area overlooking the courtyard, which also had seating. Smoking was allowed, which meant that I finished each of my three nights there enjoying a cigar in the bar.

I really liked Lomé. I hadn’t expected to, as nothing I read about it ahead of time suggested it was anything other than a place to pass through. Staying in the centre was a good choice. I could walk to almost everything I wanted to see, as well as to the market for anything I could want to buy.

Compared to Accra, Lomé felt chill and pleasant. I wandered around the market and generally walked the streets. No one hassled me. I never for a moment felt unsafe. Everyone was simply friendly; greeting me with Bonjours and Bienvenues.

The market (Le Grande Marché) was fantastic. Crowded and busy, but not stressful. Everything you can conceive of is sold there. I would have liked to have gotten better photos, but people in Lomé really don’t like having photos taken – even if not of them, but just of their merchandise – and will sometimes say no. I still managed to get a few.

In the midst of the market is a striking red and white church outside of which I met a guy who offered and I accepted to hire him to take me on a day trip the following day. Serendipity.

The streets of Lomé are shabby and bustling, but they are also often tree-lined and the traffic is not crazy, which made it nice for walking. I took pictures of the few bigger buildings with interesting architecture.

I visited the artisans market where I resisted the urge to buy more than a few trinkets, but it was great for a browse.

I headed towards the independence monument, marking Togo’s liberation from France. At this point I was sweating and red-faced from the heat, so I walked purposefully towards a shiny, tall hotel where I basked in the AC for a little while.

I walked towards the Royal Palace. I had read online that it had been refurbished as a gallery / art centre in the midst of beautiful gardens stretching to the sea. The pictures look stunning, but when I arrived I was told that the opening had been delayed for one week. So I saw only pictures, but if you are planning to visit Lomé, it is a must visit.

I should say, there is a beach all along the city, but I did not visit, though glimpses were in abundance.

There are few restaurants in the centre, at least that is my observation; and I had trouble finding vegetarian street food, so my dinners tended to be baguette and fruit from the market and Camembert and yogurt from the supermarket.

That was sort of my first day and a half in Lomé. I did also visit the Fetish Market on day two but I will make a separate post about that.

Bulgaria Europe

Rila Monastery, Bulgaria

Having seen the sites of Sofia on my first day, I decided to go to see what is one of Bulgaria’s most famous sites – the Rila Monastery – on my second day. It is a couple hours outside of the city. It is possible t get there by public transit, but there didn’t seem to be any seamless options and there was an infrequency of public buses so I decided to book one of the many tour mini-buses that takes people from Sofia to the Boyana Church, to Rila Monastery and back again. Hassle free.

It was good in most respects. I saw two wonderful sites I could not have easily seen on my own, I saw a bit of the countryside, and relaxed on the ride. The way in which it was not so good was the incessant talking of the guide. She talked the whole way to the monastery. She told us the population of every town we passed, which region was settled when, the elevation of mountains, how many types of wild goats there were.
…It was so boring. I wanted to shoot myself. There was a lot of historical information being shared, but it was the most dull of trivia amounting to what happened when. I eventually opted for podcasts on my headphones. (And I like historical trivia.) Oh, and at the start of the trip she made each of us introduce ourselves to the rest of the group. (I wish I had a picture of my face at that moment.) Not really my cup of tea, but everything else was good.

We stopped at Boyana Church, a UNESCO blessed medieval church filled with colourful murals. It was lovely and I did enjoy the brief explanation about the various saints and painting styles. No photos were allowed inside, but it is worth a google.

We finally arrived at Rila Monastery, surrounded by glorious fall foliage. It was raining, but that did nothing to detract from the beauty of the buildings.

Such an interesting combination of colours, geometric patterns, and religious murals. I took A Lot of pictures. Inside the church it was guilded ornamentation, though no photos were allowed.

*Man selling souvenirs at Rila Monastery*

After wandering around for a while, I went and had lunch as a cosy stone restaurant just outside the monastery with a roaring fire. I had a shopska salad and yogurt with honey and walnuts. (They are very proud of their yogurt in Bulgaria. Apparently it has some kind of magical enzymes unique to Bulgaria. It is very good. I wish I could do a taste test with the King of Curds yogurt in Bhaktapur.)

Then we drove back to the city. Pleasantly listening to Bulgarian traditional music en route.

Back at the city I decided to walk in search of another cigar lounge. It turned out to be a very posh neighbourhood. The kind with embassies and restaurants that serve only caviar. I did eventually find the cigar lounge but was told that I could not smoke inside as I would have to register and that would take months. I feel like my appearance may not have been to their liking. (To be fair, I hadn’t showered.) I was a little grumpy about being turned away, but it was so beautiful out, walking in the dark through crispy leaves past cute little bistros. I walked back to Vitoska Boulevard where I enjoyed a glass of Bulgarian red wine, a vegan pizza, and two cigars.

And that was Sofia. The next morning I took the metro back to the airport and three flights later I was back at home.

I really liked what I saw of Bulgaria. It was just a small taste, but it was good and I left feeling satisfied. I know that I will return to some naysayers who will go on about how a weekend is not enough time to see a country (of course it isn’t but it is enough to see something), but I had an amazing time and will probably do it again.

Bulgaria Europe

Sofia, Bulgaria

Ever since I did my first international long weekend trip (Mexico City, last year) I have been experimenting with these micro trips. Where is possible in four days? I’ve also done four-day to El Salvador, Havana, and Panama City, but when I saw a low cost flight to London the night before the Remembrance Day long weekend, I thought, why not Europe?

To clarify, I live in Vancouver, so Europe is pretty far, but if I can fly when I would otherwise be sleeping, I could manage at least 2 days and 3 nights in my destination. Not bad.

I’ll spare you the process by which I picked Sofia, Bulgaria (let’s just say it involved a spreadsheet), but I did pick Sofia, and that is how I came to spend my long weekend in Bulgaria. At present I am flying home and feeling pretty pleased with myself.

I landed in Sofia at 10:50pm on Friday, having flown from Vancouver to London to Sofia. No hassles at the airport, I exchanged some Euros into Bulgarian Levs and was at the metro station by 11:15. The metro is right at Terminal 2 and will take you right to the historical centre (starting from Serdica station) which is where you should be going if you’re traveling for pleasure. The train ends at the airport, so it is impossible to get on the wrong train, leaving the airport. What it is possible to do is foolishly pay for your 1.60 Lev ticket in the machine with a 20 Lev note, as I did, and get ALL your change in 10 cent coins, as I did. It was like a slot machine. I spent the rest of the next day paying for things with my sack of coins. (As I turned around from the machine, I saw a lady at a window from whom I could have bought a ticket.)

I arrived at Serdica station and walked to Hostel Mostel. I booked a private room, which was $30 cdn a night, in a great location,and included free breakfast and free dinner, and other added bonuses like free walking tours and pub crawls daily. The dorms are an even better bargain. It is kind of a legendary hostel and I can say it deserves its reputation.

Anyway, I went to bed, which was tough because walking from the metro, then almost midnight, the streets, bars, and restaurants were lively. But I had sightseeing planned for the next day.

Sofia is perfect for a weekend city break. It is beautiful, cheap, and all of its wonderful sites are clustered close together in the historic centre. I set out after breakfast a about 8 am and by 3 pm I had pretty much seen what I wanted to see and spent the rest of the day wandering a bit more aimlessly and leisurely.

*Krystal Garden monument to Stefan Stambolov*

Sofia has some truly stunning churches and they are all free to visit as they are not relics; they are active places of worship. I think all of the churches I visited were in the midst of a service, with prayer and singing swirling with the candle and incense smoke. I tried to pretend I was entering as a worshiper, crossing myself in the orthodox way, but I don’t think anyone was buying it.

Of course, the highlight was Alexander Nevsky Cathedral which I walked circles around, taking pictures – lots of pictures – trying to find just the right angles and taking several wholly unsuccessful selfies.

Some churches did not allow photos inside, but I was happy to be able to capture a few of the warm interiors, with their beautiful paintings. (The Alexander Nevsky Cathedral charges I think 7 Lev for a photo permit, but the kiosk to buy the permit was closed when I was there so I just snapped a few shots surreptitiously.)

And it wasn’t just churches; mosques and synagogues represented with equally compelling architecture.

The streets of central Sofia are lined with imposing and impressive buildings, which made just wandering around a delight.

Even the main street that passed through all these architectural riches was delightful. An actual yellow brick road.

I browsed at a small flea market, which had many icons and antiques. I found a few cigarette boxes that looked interesting at first, only to discover that they had swastikas on them. There was a lot of Nazi trinkets for sale there along side old trumpets, cameras, and opera glasses. I walked away empty handed.

The weather was perfect. In the mid high teens (Celsius) and sunny. I had to take my jacket off whilst sitting on a patio.

I hit a couple of eateries. A cafe and a proper restaurant. I tried a banista, the traditional cold yogurt soup (tarator), and berkova livtivka, a spread made mostly of local white cheese and super hot peppers. All pretty good. There are loads of inviting bakeries, cafes, food kiosks, and restaurants, but with only two days there is only so much eating I can do.

Everyone I encountered was friendly. Many people spoke no English, but usually there would be someone around who could assist where my phrasebook failed me. I did practice some Bulgarian phrases, which the security guard at the crypt museum was happy to help me with. Oh, yes, I went to the crypt museum at the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, which was pleasant but in my opinion one could skip it, unless you have a bottomless appetite for 17th and 18th century icons. There are so many on display in the churches anyway.

I walked up to the “ladies market”, which is just an outdoor market selling fruits and vegetables, honey, nuts, and an assortment of household goods, like brooms and blankets. The market was thoroughly skippable, but I had some extra time, though the walk there was more interesting than the market itself.

I did see a little bit of street art en route.

Finally i strolled Vitoshka Boulevard, a pedestrian street link with busy restaurants and mediocre shops. As night it is a swell place to go for a bite and despite smoking being banned inside, smoking outside is fine, so I was happy to grab a table and people watch the next night

*Statue of Aleko Konstantinov, lawyer, writer, founder of tourism in Bulgaria*

On my first evening however, I opted to grab a cheap slice of pizza and head over to La Casa del Habano for a couple of cigars, including a regional Bulgarian edition Bolivar. If you smoke cigars, it’s pretty cool. Trust me.

And that was day one. The only thing I would have done differently knowing what I know now, is I would have skipped the market and the walk to the cultural centre and the stroll down Vitoshka (because I’d end up there anyway), and instead taken transit to the museum of communist art. But that is a small quibble. It was a perfect day; I saw the highlights of Sofia and was ready to venture outside of the city the next day.

Asia Azerbaijan Azerbaijan trip 2019

Back to Baku

While I took the train from Baku to Sheki and loved it, I didn’t want to do the same on the return journey. I could have taken a minibus, but I really wanted to take a private car so I could have a more comfortable drive and also stop and see some things on the way. Fortunately, Misha, one of my Air bnb hosts, was driving back to Baku and agreed to take me. This turned out to be a great option. He was excited to show me some sights of his country and I had no particular agenda and was just happy to go along with whatever he chose.

But first, the family I was staying with made breakfast and wanted a final picture.

The first stop was in Kiş (Kish), which is just next door to Sheki. It is notable for a church, the Albanian Church, built in the 10th century and may also be the site of much older churches. It is very pretty, set in a rose garden, and gives a view of the hills in the background. I said that it looked like an Armenian church, which, as is turns out, was not the right thing to say. I had forgotten that there had been fairly recent war and hostility between the country.

From there we stopped at a waterfall picnic site popular with locals. There were a couple of small lakes filled with yellow fish, a waterfall, restaurant, and shisha smoking area. Oddly, there were also fiberglass creatures placed around the lake like deer and alligators.

We went for a quick and very expensive coffee in a town with an impressive gondola going up the mountains for views and hiking.

We stopped at a roadside stand and bought a freshly made, buttery flatbread rolled up with 7 fresh green herbs inside.

We stopped at another spot – a roadside cluster of camps for refugees from the war with Armenia – and bought delicious, hot bread fresh from the outdoor clay (?) oven.

We stopped at a lake area where locals picnicked, went out on paddle boats, rode horses, and smoked shisha in little tea houses.

Everywhere we drove we went past roadside stands selling fruit, honey, nuts, and jam.

We stopped for a traditional tea in the forest with all the accompaniments: lemon, sugar, rosewater, cherry jam, and candies. The idea, I discovered, was not to stir the jam into the coffee but to take a spoonful of it as you drink your tea.

*The assortment of jams for tea available at a restaurant in Baku*

The ride was great. I learned a bit about history and culture and saw things I would not have sought out in my own, but I enjoyed seeing.

We arrived back in Baku where I snapped pictures of more random Azerbaijan architecture from the car window.

The next day was my final day in Baku and I really didn’t have anything I was excited to do, so I decided to just go for a meandering walk on the way to the bazaar. As it turned out there are a cluster of cafes with book themes or bookstores with cafes just above Fountain Square (on and around Tolstoy and Gogol streets). I decided to visit as many of them as I could find. I think I had about 5 coffees in about two hours. It was great. I liked the neighbourhood and the cafes, which ranged from cute to divey.

I especially liked the Old School Cafe, which is not book themed, but has a delightful and eclectic atmosphere. And of course, you can smoke inside all of these cafes, which made the even better.

I had a great time wandering the streets.

I make my way up to the bazaar, which I enjoyed, but I felt a bit rushed because people could tell I was a tourist as soon as I took out my camera to take pictures of food, at which point everyone tried to sell me caviar. I had heard this was the place to buy inexpensive caviar, but I wasn’t having any.

The rest of the day was pleasant, but a bit aimless. I walked, I smoked shisha, I ate at a Georgian restaurant, but eventually I was just killing time until my very late flight.

A lot of people who had never been to Azerbaijan said my trip sounded too short, and I had wondered that myself ahead of time. As it turned out, it was just right. A few days in Baku, a day and a night in Sheki, an overnight train trip, and a day driving was exactly the right amount of time. I saw everything I wanted to and left satisfied – and ready for a final night in London.

Europe Scotland United Kingdom

Glasgow & Paisley

On our final day in Scotland we decided to take a day trip from Edinburgh to Glasgow. Neither of us had an overwhelming desire to go, but it was right there, of course we had to check it out. My mother does not share my love of aimless walking, so I decided we would do a self-guided walking tour around Glasgow to see their street art. That way we would have a purpose but also get to check out the city. It really was a perfect idea, in theory.

There is a website that lists all of the major murals around the city, so we decided to follow that route from the train station, where we arrived from Edinburgh. It started off well enough; there were a few murals in close proximity just in the alleys off of a main pedestrian street. There was a race on, bagpipe buskers, people out…it felt festive.

The 2^nd or 3^rd mural we saw ended up being my favourite, which was a cool one of a black British taxicab hoisted by colourful heilum balloons.

From there it was all downhill. That is not to say that anything bad happened – we just didn’t like Glasgow. We found the city just dull. It wasn’t beautiful, it wasn’t interesting, it wasn’t intriguingly seedy, it was just mediocre.

I feel bad saying that and I’m sure that there are many people who live in Glasgow or spent more than a few hours there who love it and know about all sorts of hidden gems, but all I am saying is that for a city to spend a day strolling around in, it did nothing for us.

I am aware that there are excellent galleries and museums in Glasgow, but my mum doesn’t relish museums or galleries and I also wanted to be out and about.

Sadly, not only did we not enjoy what we saw of Glasgow the city, we also didn’t like the murals. They were well executed, but we didn’t find them terribly interesting or edgy.

We could have stuck with the plan, but neither or us were really digging it, so we decided to get a coffee and reconsider. As it turned out, finding a good independent café in downtown Glasgow was also a bit of a struggle (so many chains) but we finally found one: Laboratorio Espresso. It was a tiny place with excellent coffee and cakes. We pondered over a few espressos and macchiatos and decided that flexibility was the best course of action. We walked to the train station and hopped a train to Paisley.

Why Paisley? It was close by and had some historical significance. Paisley was a textile town at one time and it apparently the place that invented the paisley pattern, which is named after the town. Also, I realized when I was there, it is the home of the famous “Paisley Snail” case that every common-law law student learns in first year. (A woman bought a bottle of ginger beer and it had a snail in it. She sued. It’s about negligence. If you are a lawyer/law student you know it and if you aren’t you probably don’t care.) The law dork part of me was pretty excited about that.

Paisley is a nice little town and was pleasant for a stroll, though apart from a lovely church, it doesn’t have much in the way of sights.

We walked around a bit, had a coffee, and returned to Edinburgh, as we had to get up at 2am for a flight home.

The last day of our trip didn’t turn out as planned, but was enjoyable, largely due to our willingness to admit we weren’t enjoying ourselves and change plans. And what’s better than being able to just hop a train at the last minute to another city? Coming from a country with almost no train travel, it is pretty great.

And so ended our mother/daughter trip to Scotland. Thankful for a chance to spend time together and explore Scotland a bit, which was actually pretty great.

Europe Scotland United Kingdom

Stirling, Scotland

From Wigtown, Scotland we took a series of buses and trains to Stirling, via Glasgow. We picked Stirling because the pictures looked pretty, it has a grand castle, and it is the jumping off point for lots of picturesque walks. The train ride there took us past lovely scenery.

Stirling is small and lovely. One doesn’t need a lot of time there to see the castle and town, but with more time, the outlying areas are certainly worth exploring.

We walked from the train station to our Air bnb, which was right at the base of the walk along the castle walls to the castle itself. A perfect location.

And so we walked. We walked around the hilly old town, stopping for coffee and cakes along the way. (Cakes are a reoccurring theme in these Scotland posts, but the cafes here all had the best flourless vegan and gluten free cafes, like orange & almond or pistachio & lemon.)

Stirling was very picturesque – particularly the Church of the Holy Rude (the present structure dating to the 1400s).

And my favourite was the wonderful cemetery around the church, which was beautiful and afforded views of the surrounding fields.

The castle itself, sort of the highlight, was certainly worth visiting but I didn’t love some of the revitalization that they have done, painting the walls or ceilings with bright crests and patterns that, even if they replicate the originals, seemed too new and Disney-esque. But walking the ramparts and looking around was very good.

I also took a walk out of Stirling across a river to Cambuskenneth and the remaining Abbey.

We liked Stirling, but a day + two nights was sufficient to see the sights and wander around a bit. We ended up not doing any big hikes, but I should mention that if one does want to do any good long walks or hikes, this website, Walk Highlands, has incredibly detailed walking routes, pictures, GPS coordinates, etc. I used it to do my walk to Cambuskenneth.

From Stirling we would return to Edinburgh, visit Dean Village, Glasgow, and Paisley.

Canada North America

Bonjour, Montréal! Three days in Québec

I’ve seen little of Canada. I am from and live in British Columbia but had seen only that and Alberta. Why fly to see other parts of Canada when it is cheaper and more interesting to travel abroad? (So I often say.) So when I had to travel to Montréal for work, staying for a couple of extra days seemed like the perfect opportunity.

In short, I had to appear in Federal Court (I’m a lawyer, not a litigant) and at the near last moment, it was set down in Montréal, meaning that I had to fly on a Wednesday to appear in Court on Thursday and fly home on Friday. Each flight was the better part of a day. Canada is big. But then I thought…wait a minute, why not stay the weekend and actually see something of the City. And just like that, a travel plan was in motion.

I got in late on Wednesday and took a taxi to my hotel, which was on the border of the old city and Chinatown. I was exhausted and stressed but I wanted to know for the next morning how to get to the courthouse and how long it would take, so I went for a walk. It was maybe 11:00 at night, but people were out; in restaurants, in bars, on the street. (It’s not like that in Vancouver mid-week.) I walked through part of the old city, past the impressive Notre Dame Cathedral, to the courthouse, and back again. I didn’t have time to do anything, but I could see that the part of the city I was in was old and it was really pretty. It really did feel a bit like I was in France.

I saw a young man speaking French, wearing a leather jacket, smoking a cigarette, and peeing on the side of a 200-year-old building and I thought, “Wow! This is like Europe!”

The next day Court finished a bit early and I was exhausted, but not too exhausted to go out for a while.

I walked around the old city and downtown for a bit, just exploring. It has a great feel. Parts of it, certain streets, feel just like being in France – maybe not Paris, but some other smaller city.

Most parts, don’t feel like Europe at all, but do feel like a cool, mid-sized city. It feels much bigger than Vancouver, which I like.

There is a lot of public art and so many nice squares, and inviting cafes and restaurants.

But I had my sights set on a cigar. Montréal, unlike Vancouver, still allows cigar smoking in lounges (Four, that I found) and I was not going to let that opportunity pass me by. I walked to Blatter & Blatter, a 100-year-old tobacconist and bought a rare Quai D’Orsay robusto.

a very cold me on the streets of Montreal

I smoked it while walking to a cigar bar called Stogies, which was packed with after work business guys. I got a table, lit a new cigar (a Cohiba), and drank a martini while reflecting on the day in Court. It was my first time in Federal Court, my first time in Court in Montréal, and my first time appearing in Court where the submissions were in French. An occasion worth marking before it fades to memory. I ended up chatting with a couple of local lawyers and regaled them with my stories of the day.

It wasn’t late, but stress of the day and the three hours’ sleep I had were catching up to me so I walked back to my hotel, spent an hour or so watching Law & Order, and fell asleep early.

The next day I started with a working breakfast with a Montréal staple – a bagel and coffee – before going out for more looking around.

I went inside the Notre Dame cathedral, which was surprisingly beautiful inside with rich, twinkling blues and stained glass depicting, amongst other things, the indigenous peoples of the area.

I found the cutest café / general store ever (Le Petit Dep) on a street that is right out of a French movie and had a coffee, not that I needed it, but because I just wanted to soak up the charming atmosphere.

I walked ceaselessly, then took the subway to a different area to go to La Casa Del Habano (Cuban cigar store and lounge), where I had a couple of exquisite cigars and read my book. The place was busy but was embroiled in an intense Hockey conversation that weaved back and forth between English and French.

I walked back to my hotel and saw this great mural of Leonard Cohen.

On my final full day I took the advice of a local and walked to the Plateau district (Le Plateau). I had planned to explore Mont Royal (sort of a forresty park on a hill) but the trees were barren and it was so cold, windy , and rainy that staying in the city seemed preferable. That was one thing that was very different – in Vancouver it was warm springtime; everything was green and flowering. In Montréal it was bitterly cold and I saw nothing green. This is the Canadian weather I hear other people complaining about.

The walk to and around the Plateau was great. A ton of cafes, book and record stores, vintage shops, Portugese markets, French patisseries, heritage buildings, and lots and lots of street murals.

The murals were a real highlight. I snaked my way all around the side streets and alleys to see what I could find. I won’t put pictures of all of them, but there are so many and they’re great.

From there I walked to a French restaurant called Chez Alexandre, which has a cigar lounge on the second floor. I settled in with a cigar and martini and had an engaging conversation with a high school English teacher from New York, who was also traveling solo.

I had plans to go to the fourth cigar lounge in the City (the Whisky Café) but I was tired and cold and didn’t want to have to deal with a taxi, so I walked in a winding way back to my hotel. On the way, taking time to enjoy a coffee at Cafe Olimpico and catch a few last glimpses of the city.

The next day I flew home.

I really enjoyed my time in Montréal, bad weather and work stresses notwithstanding. It was much more appealing and interesting that I expected. And there is so much more to see there. I get why people speak so highly of it. That said, I still wouldn’t recommend it as a holiday destination unless you live close by or have a deal. It is really nice, but it’s not Europe. I think Europe is better. But I liked Montréal and here is the thing that I really didn’t anticipate: It made me feel more Canadian. I am not nationalistic. Canada is fine, but so are a lot of other places and I don’t feel particularly proud to be Canadian. It’s just where I was born. But being in Montréal – this cool city with beautiful old buildings and art and culture, where people speak French – made me feel happy that Canada has this unique place. And now I hope I’ll have an excuse to go back.

Wandering North

Tag: church