cigar Archives - Page 12 of 25

Denmark Europe

Copenhagen Long Weekend: A pleasantly surprising start

Arrival

Copenhagen is far from Vancouver. About 11 and a half hours if you get a direct flight. However, in the spring of 2020 I had planned to take a four-day weekend trip to see the Danish capital. Of course, that trip was cancelled due to covid. Flash forward to October 2021 and a four-day weekend coupled with a complete lack of covid restrictions in Denmark made the trip seem like a very good idea. I booked it within a week of leaving, but the planning was easy, as I had done it all the previous year.

I flew to London, enjoyed a brief layover and flew to Copenhagen, arriving at about 6pm. Because Denmark had dropped its covid restrictions, as long as you are vaccinated, you don’t even need a test to go there. And once I left the airport, I got to ditch my mask for the weekend. It was like it was 2019 all over again.

That said, Canada has not dropped its covid restrictions, so the first thing I did was get a PCR test at the airport, since I would need it for my return to Canada. Unlike in every other country I have been to since the pandemic started, covid tests in Denmark are free.

I took the train to the central station and walked the few blocks to my hostel. I was staying at the Steel House hostel, in a dorm. I don’t often stay in dorms. As much as I love the hostel vibes and amenities, I do prefer having my own bedroom. But Copenhagen is really expensive and if you are going to splurge on a weekend trip to Europe, you have to cut corners somewhere. The Steel House hostel is quite fancy and has a ton of amenities. The dorms are space age situations with gleaming white bunks and chrome touches. Not pods, but they had that feel. Fortunately, my dorm mates were a very friendly group of girls from Germany and Taiwan and I enjoyed their company when we swapped stories at the end of the day.

As soon as I found my bunk, I ditched my backpack and hit the streets. It was dark, but not late, and there were people out everywhere. I didn’t have a plan, but ended up meandering over to Nyhaven, because that’s the place that you see in all the travel pictures. Nyhaven was … fine. At night anyway, it was nice in an “I’m really in Copenhagen” way, but wasn’t my scene. I did love walking through the city though. Lovely streets, glittering canals, appealing cafés with warm lights, and glimpses of things I would see properly the next day. There is nothing like that first walk in a new city, when you are finding your way and just discovering where you are.

I walked and walked before settling at a restaurant, outside, by one of the canals. All of the outdoor eateries were packed, even though it was October. After dinner I slept soundly, excited to wake up and start the day.

Exploring Copenhagen

Saturday morning I got up ridiculously early. I only had two full days in Copenhagen, I wasn’t going to spend them sleeping in.

The day was clear and crisp. Perfect for walking. And did I walk. First I walked a similar route to that which I taken the night before, enjoying seeing everything in the light of day. The dumb thing about getting up so early was that nothing was open for coffee. I ended up getting a coffee from a convenience store (I know…) and sitting outside in a square near the statue of Hans Christian Anderson. I little while later I had a proper coffee at a café and had a pastry. They aren’t messing around when it comes to coffee and bread products there. Every single thing I had to eat was excellent.

I walked over to Christiansborg Palace (a palace, the house of Parliament, Prime Minister’s office and Supreme Court) on a little island and watched them exercising the horses and wandered over to the gardens in front of the Queen’s library. I had forgotten, until I saw the palace, that Denmark still has a monarchy. Speaking of islands, Copenhagen has 1,419* of them. A fact I find stunning. Like, if someone told you the tiny country of Copenhagen had “a lot of islands” you would probably think that number to be around 50, maybe 70; but 1,419 seems impossible. I think I only set foot on four of them. (*only about 443 have been named and only 78 are populated.)

I walked over to a large waterway where people were walking the sea wall, sitting with coffee, rowing on the water, having a morning cigarette. This was also my first glimpse of the modern architecture in the city and have to say, it is a bit disappointing. Not bad, but not great. I preferred the historic buildings.

crossing over to the islet of Slotsholmen

At this point I decided to go to a museum. On the way there, I visit the Danish Pipe Shop for a browse and to pick up some cigars (and get tips of where to smoke from the proprietor). Just around the corner was a small square, where there was a very unusual statue. Terrifying pigs in overcoats, men with screaming faces and a giant hand giving the middle finger. By Jens Galschiøt, it is a temporary installation celebrating the 700^th anniversary of Dante’s death and some commentary on modern city life. I couldn’t find much about the sculpture in English, but the artist is pretty interesting and I like anything that disrupts the flow of city life, which this sculpture definitely does.

I went to the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, a fine arts (mostly sculpture) museum. It is a good size and has a pretty little tropical courtyard. I found it very pleasant and particularly liked the Egyptian mummies and – most of all – the nasotheque. The museum has a small and unusual collection of noses that have fallen off ancient sculptures. (Nasotheque, like bibliotheque or discotheque – not my invention. It’s what the museum called it.) I can’t explain the ears included.

I walked back to Nyhaven to see all of the colorful buildings in the daylight. Along the way I passed by Tivoli Gardens (actually for like the 4^th time; it’s right in the centre of town). I was sad that the park was closed that weekend to set up for Halloween and each time I saw the rides and decorations peeking out from above the barriers, I was a bit wistful, but I can always come back some day to ride the rides. If you don’t know, Tivoli is the second oldest theme park in the world and is said to be the inspiration for Disneyland. And looking at what I could see, the similarities are apparent, right down to a Matterhorn type rollercoaster.

The entrance to Tivoli Gardens, halloween style

Nyhaven is lovely a strip of colorful buildings along a canal just off of the sea port. Tall ships docked and canal-side eateries full to the brim. Set against a blue sky it is perfect. I still didn’t have much desire to hang out or eat there (it is a bit crowded) but it is pleasant to see.

I walked over the round tower and, feeling peckish, stopped for a hot dog. Copenhagen is lousy with hot dog carts or pølsevogn, as they call them. (Actually, it was the only street food I saw in Copenhagen other than warm nuts.) They seem to be sort of a fancier version than in North America and have different toppings and better quality ingredients. I had read that Copenhagen was the ‘hot dog capital of the world’ so I had to have one. After several failed attempts, I found one sausage wagon that had a vegetarian option. At the foot of the round tower. Mine came with mustard, remoulade, onions, and pickles. It was good and one of the least expensive meals in had in the pricy city.

I then walked over to Rosenborg Castle (or Rosenborg Slot, in Danish), a Renaissance castle from 1606, now a museum and tourist attraction. The castle is pretty and pleasant, and has a treasury with weapons, wine, and impressive jewels. It is set in a lovely park and guarded by ever-marching, armed soldiers.

Freetown Christiania

I decided to walk from Rosenbourg Castle, lap of monarchial luxury, to the other extreme: Freetown Christiania. (Note that this required walking back past Nyhaven. I really did not plan an orderly walking route.) To get to Freetown Christiania, I walked across two bridges, past crowds of people at beer gardens and out on small boats with bottles of wine and picnics, or on bicycles.

I haven’t even mentioned the bicycles. Copenhagen is a bicycle city, with dedicated lanes everywhere and masses of bikes parked – many not even locked up, because Copenhagen is just that safe. Unlike in some biking cities, where the cyclists seem aggressive, here, everyone just seemed so calm and happy, as they peddled along. And it is totally flat, so the cycling is nearly effortless.

Anyway: Freetown Christiania. It is a self-declared micro state and commune set on an island in Copenhagen. It was founded by squatters in the early 1970s and is home to about 1000 residents. It has its own flag and laws (sort of – its legal status is constantly in flux). It is a real hippie place with no cars, colorful art works, and a big meditation and yoga scene. Danish law is not really enforced there and cannabis is sold and consumed openly (it is illegal in Denmark; something that seems so weird coming from Canada).

It is worth visiting, though I have to say it wasn’t my cup of tea. It’s interesting (the day I was there, there were many police standing at the entrance but not entering) and there are some cute, colorful buildings and whimsical art, but it didn’t keep me entertained for long. There are a lot of cannabis sellers there, but, again, this is legal in Canada, so it didn’t have that exciting appeal of the illicit.

After a bit of a look around, I returned to the mainland. (Note that there are rules in Freetown Christiania, which includes no running [it makes people think there is a police raid] and no photos of people [which makes taking pictures of anything a challenge]).

Smørrebrød, cigars, and my assessment of Copenhagen so far

At this point, I decided to go for a quick bite: some amazing smørrebrød. The famous, Danish open faced sandwich. I don’t know how such a simple dish can be so delicious, but…wow. So happy to find vegetarian options. It would never have occurred to me to put pickled onions and hazelnuts on a sandwich. My horizons have been expanded.

While sitting there eating, I took some time to assess my experience so far. A day in and I was surprisingly smitten with Copenhagen. Honestly, I expected it to be a bit dull, which was part of the reason I picked it for my weekend city break. But I didn’t find it dull. I loved it. I loved the food and the coffee. I loved the pretty, but understated historical architecture. I loved the canals and the squares and the bike paths. I loved that people were out eating and drinking on patios in the chilly night air, cozied up under blankets. I loved that there were more museums and art galleries than I could visit in a month, let alone a weekend. I loved the way everyone was dressed. They seemed both dressier and more casual than in Vancouver. Like, people in Copenhagen are dressed for comfort, but in a way that doesn’t look like they are headed to the gym or bed. Smart sneakers, over-sized cozy knitwear, big wool coats, loose jeans, turtlenecks…I don’t know, they looked effortlessly cool. And everyone looked very attractive, in a really natural, healthy sort of way. Copenhagen didn’t remind me of any place I had been before. It just seemed specific to itself. This all came as a pleasant surprise to me.

I popped back to the hostel for about an hour and chatted with my dorm mates, who had also migrated back for a bit of a rest. We had all done similar things during the day and it was fun to compare notes and swap recommendations.

I ended my long day at the Musen & Elefanten (mouse & elephant) bar, recommended to me by the guy at the Danish Pipe Shop. It was a tiny, slightly sub-terranean watering hole. Super cozy. The best thing about it was that they allowed cigar smoking indoors (possibly the only place in the city that does). I sat at the bar and enjoyed a Partagas Serie D No.2 and a Hoyo Epicure No.2 along with a cocktail or two made by the extremely affable bartender, with whom I chatted. It was a very nice end to the day.

I returned to my hostel and got cozy in my bunk, later than all my dorm mates and fell asleep immediately, unsurprisingly after ~25 km of walking. I still had one more day ahead of me and much more to see.

Asia Jordan

Wadi Rum

I left Wadi Musa early the morning after my amazing day in Petra, bound for Wadi Rum. I opted to take a taxi for the two hour drive. The same taxi driver that had taken me shoe shopping the day before. We had a good rapport. We left Wadi Musa, passing patches of pomegranate trees, stopped for water, and hit the highway.

The drive wasn’t too remarkable. Lightly colored rocky desert punctuated by the odd town or flock of windmills. (Do we still call them windmills when they are those tall, white modern ones? I still imagine windmills as something out of a fairy tale book or a postcard of historic Netherlands.) Anyway, we arrived in Wadi Rum and I was deposited at the ‘visitors centre’ to await pickup. Nothing was open and there was no wifi, but sure enough, soon a pickup truck approached, and I hopped in the back…and we went about 1 minute away to a house. I had no idea what was happening. It was, as it turned out, the house of one of the brothers who operated the camp at which I was staying.

I was ushered into a room without furniture, and sat on the heavily carpeted floor and leaned against cushions. I was immediately offered sweet mint tea (refusing it was futile) and sat and talked with the host (whose name I have now forgotten) while his two young children played with iPhones – not as phones, but as, cars, I guess; zooming them around on the floor and crashing them into each other, before their father sent them out of the room. We chatted for a while and then three more guys, all in traditional Bedouin garb, joined us: the host’s brother, a guy named Omar, and a guy who said nothing, but sat there being quietly handsome. We drank tea and smoked. I still wasn’t sure why I was there.

After about 45 minutes, I realized that we were waiting for two other people who were to arrive and go to the camp and the three of us would travel there together. The people arrived – a mother/daughter duo – from Germany who had been staying at the same guest house as me in Petra. As well, two Spanish girls who were leaving the camp appeared and we all sat on the floor and ate out from communal plates: hummus, labneh, bread, cucumbers, potatoes, chicken, and tuna, though the vegetarians amongst us abstained from the latter two. It felt so normal to be sitting and sharing a meal in that way, I almost forgot about Covid.

The German mother/daughter duo and I sat in the back of a pickup truck, outfitted with two bench seats and a fabric awning, and set out into the desert.

It was immediately overwhelming in the best possible way. Aside from the odd circle of Bedouin tents, there is nothing there. Just vast expanses of sand in shades of red and ochre and beige, and dramatic rock formations and mountains. It really does look like Mars, or what we imagine Mars to be. And it is huge.

We arrived at the camp: Arabian Nights. It looks pretty much like the others: boxy, black striped Bedouin tents, a main, large tent for meals and hanging out, and a fire pit.

I splurged on one of the deluxe tents, which meant I had my own bathroom. The water same from some metal boxes outside and had to be brought in from the town. No AC. Ironically, I did not sleep a night in my lovely tent. It was so hot that it would have been unbearable. Instead, I slept both nights outside, on a mat under the stars, which I highly recommend. It was still too hot for a blanket, but the breeze was wonderful, and the stars were spectacular.

That first day in Wadi Rum, we (the German mother/daughter duo, and I) just hung out in the main tent, reading, napping, and (me) smoking cigars. There were a lot of guys working at the camp, all local Bedouins, and they were great company as well. At night we all say around the fire talking.

Both nights, dinner was cooked in the traditional Bedouin style of digging a pit in the sand and lowering a tiered, metal … thing … into the pit on top of a fire, after loading the thing up with chicken and vegetables. The pit is then covered with a board, blanket, and a mound of sand and is left to cook. When the oxygen runs out, the fire dies, but the heat remains to cook everything. There was also a big pot of rice and the usual dips and breads. We were well fed.

On the second day, the German mother/daughter duo and I took an all-day trip into the desert. Omar was our driver for the day, and we took the aforementioned truck into the unknown.

The day was a series of drives through the sand to various points of interest and places for hikes. It was all terrific. Even just driving and looking and the awesome scenery was great. But then we would stop at a narrow cave, for example, and venture in to look at ancient carvings and paintings of people, horned beasts, and whatnot.

We climbed up a sand dune and sand boarded or tobogganed down. It was amazing, though hiking up a sand dune is challenging; it feels like you slide back farther with every step forward, but out of breath at the top, it doesn’t seem to matter.

We visited what remained of T. E. Lawrence (of Arabia)’s house where he allegedly slept, a rare spring of water, a large rock resembling a mushroom, and a couple of amazing natural rock bridges.

Whenever possible, Omar parked the truck and told us to hike over a small mountain or through a canyon and he would pick us up on the other side. The scenery was outstanding. Much of it didn’t even seem real, like a scene out of a movie.

All of this was great fun, albeit rather exhausting, made more so by the heat. Thankfully, we stopped in a narrow cave for a couple hours and laid on thin mats on the sane while Omar cooked us a hot lunch over a fire and another man who showed up out of nowhere played songs on the oud.

We also had opportunities at various points to stop at open air tents operating as tea houses – literally in the middle of nowhere – to have a glass of tea, a chat with whoever was there, and, if we were lucky, hear a bit more of the oud being played.

We finished the day by hiking up a small mountain to watch the sunset over the desert, where, on that mountain I ran into the Czech doctor who I had previously met in Petra. I ran into him again later that night when I discovered he was staying at the same camp and joined us or dinner and fireside chats.

It was really nice on this trip to Jordan that, even though the tourist numbers are abysmal, there were still people traveling and all of them seemed eager to talk and hang out. Just like old times.

I slept under the stars, looking up at the milky way, until I dozed off. Wadi Rum really exceeded my expectations. There were iterations of this trip, in the planning stages, where I had thought about skipping it. I am so glad I didn’t.

The next morning after breakfast, I left the camp and caught a taxi to Aqaba before bussing back to Amman.

Asia Jordan

Finally…Petra!

Have you ever had a moment where you knew, while it was happening, that you were having one of the best moments of your life? The last time I had one I was at a jazz club in Havana. But I think I had another one of those moments in Petra. Even if the rest of my trip to Jordan had been a let down (it wasn’t) that moment would have redeemed it.

I left my lodging at the Infinity Guest House early, maybe 5:30am. The sun was just starting to lighten the sky over the mountains that were the gateway to Petra

I entered the site and began the walk from the gate through unusual rocky formations punctuated with the odd temple or carving.

It was great and I took a lot of pictures, but that was just the preview.

Finally, I reached the beginning of the Siq, the 1.2 km long narrow passageway formed naturally by a fissure in the high rock walls, made smooth by the wind. It just sort of curves along and you walk between these high walls under a sliver of blue sky. Occasionally there are carvings; the remains of figures or designs, but mostly, it is just the path. And the incredible thing is, you don’t know when you will reach the end. Everyone who goes knows that when you reach the end you see you first glimpse of the Treasury, but you don’t know exactly when it will happen.

It was amazing. But what made it so amazing for me was that the whole way, from the entrance to the Siq and through it to the Treasury, I did not see anyone. It was just me. Normally there would be thousands of tourists, making noise, taking pictures, and locals there to offer things for sale. But it was all mine. All I could hear were my own footsteps. It felt magical. This was that moment that I knew I would look back on as one of the best.

Finally the Treasury did appear and it was even better than I imagined. It’s actually incredible how it was all created. You couldn’t ask for a better, more theatrical reveal to the entrance to the city of Petra. Those Nabataeans really had a flair for the theatrical.

When I did reach the Treasury, guys, most of whom seemed to be styled as Jack Sparrow, there were setting up their souvenir and coffee stands. I got a coffee and had a cigarillo, watching as the light on the Treasury grew brighter. Just then the next tourists walked in. Two of them.

I’m probably not supposed to look for anything good that came out of Covid, but this moment would not have happened without the pandemic.

Petra, the site, was inhabited by at least 7000 BC, with the city dating back to 5000 or 4000 BC. The Nabataeans were nomadic Arabs who settled there due to trade routes, or so I am told. They carved incredible temples and monuments, and city infrastructure, including means of capturing and moving rain water, which is non-existent for much of the year. In the 1st century Ad, the Romans took over and added their own flourishes, like stone streets and a large theatre. A couple hundred years later the Byzantines added churches and detailed mosaics. But the original Nabataean structures are the stand outs.

One of the neat things about the site is that, if you want to, you can just stroll down the wide main thoroughfare and take in amazing sites.

But if you want to explore, you can embark on punishing hikes that reveal yet more architectural wonders, caves, and views over the sites below.

I didn’t do all the hikes (I ran out of steam before the Monastery), but I climbed to the place of High Sacrifice and on a trail that took me up past the Royal Tombs and eventually (millions of carved stone stairs and one lost way later), led me to a tiny Bedouin tea house on the edge of a cliff over looking the Treasury. Terrific.

I spent close to an hour in that tea house, catching my breath and escaping the sun, which was harsh at this point. I talked with the other people foolish or awesome enough to make the ascent: a couple of guys from Netherlands, a man from London, a woman from Saudi Arabia.

I wandered around the rest of the site, until late afternoon, getting more fatigued as I went. The rests I took though were welcome chances to talk to locals and bedouins who told me about life in the area and, of course, there were camels.

Finally, when I had had my fill of amazing sites, I made my way out. There were more tourists at this point but not even a fraction of what there would have been under non-pandemic times. The one mistake I made in my visit to Petra was walking out. On the way out I could have taken a horse, donkey, or camel, but I stubbornly chose to walk. I love to walk. But at this point, about ten hours since I left my hotel and in the heat, I was exhausted, the walk out seemed so much longer as I shuffled along in the dust. I should have sitting majestically on top of a camel.

When I emerged from the site, I made my way to the Cave Bar (actually, first I laid down on the ground and then I walked to the Cave Bar), allegedly the oldest bar in the world, sat down on a shady, pillow covered sofa, and downed a virgin piña colada and a fresh mint/lemon juice while nibbling on hummus and labneh and smoking a Bolivar Royal Corona (cigar).

Post Petra, everyone seemed to be in a social, happy mood, and I chatted with other sweaty and satisfied travellers, recounting our similar but special days.

The one thing that may have been unique to my Petra experience is that my boots completely fell apart. Like, it was almost comical. One of the heels disintegrated and the sole of another wore through. And these were trusty boots that had seen me through hikes in places as far flung as Nepal and Ethiopia. I found a taxi and asked him to take me to the nearest shoe store. He not only dropped me off, but came in and helped me pick out sneakers. He was so good natured, I asked him to drive me to Wadi Rum the next morning, which he did.

I finished my day with a second cigar at my accommodations with dinner and the night air. It had been a perfect day. (And I still had Wadi Rum to look forward to.)

Asia Jordan

King’s Highway: Amman to Petra

I needed to get from Amman to Petra. I had hoped to take the inexpensive and comfortable Jett Bus, but both the website and my hostel said it was not running that day; the schedules had been cut back due to dwindling tourists in these covid times. I could have taken a minivan, but I didn’t relish being crammed into an airless van for about four hours, so I googled private car to Petra and found a place (one of many, really) that would take to Petra in comfort and along the slightly longer but more scenic King’s Highway. It was a good choice.

The faster way to Petra is along the Desert Highway, which is about 3 hours by car or 4 hours by bus but isn’t much to look at. The King’s Highway, with stops, is 6ish hours. The views and stops aren’t breathtaking, but they are good and worthwhile and certainly better than the Desert Highway.

My driver, Ali, (found through localtrips.net), was great and knew all the right places to stop for me to take in the views as the city melted away into olive orchards and then eventually the landscape became a lot of…nothing. Just rocky, barren vistas; beautiful in their own way.

On the way, we drove through some small cities and stopped at the castles of Kerak and Shobak, which I could wander at my leisure.

Kerak is a crusader castle dating back to the 1100s and is certainly worth a visit, if not to explore the ruins, then to enjoy the views. Other than the guards at the gate, I had the place to myself.

We stopped and had falafel at a hole in the wall restaurant nearby in the surrounding small town, before heading farther south and stopping at Shobak Castle.

Shobak is another similarly dated Crusader castle, but in much poorer condition. It’s really not much to see, but it does have great views of the landscape.

I met a couple from Spain up there and we chatted about what travel was like during the pandemic. Other than them, the site was empty.

Near Shokak is the ‘world’s smallest hotel’, which is a VW beetle parked by the roadside. I couldn’t get a good picture of it, but it looked cute as we zipped by. This picture I took from the castle, so the car is just a speck. (Officially there is a proper hotel in Germany that holds the title of smallest, but the beetle is clearly smaller, albeit an alternative lodging.)

world smallest (VW) hotel, by the shrubbery in the middle

Finally, we arrived in the city of Petra (technically, Wadi Musa). An impossibly hilly place that made walking a serious challenge but created incredible views. Even the cars had difficulty stopping on some of the streets due to the incline.

I checked into my lodging, the Infinity Lodge. It was wonderful. My room was so fancy and had all the amenities, including my own balcony overlooking the city and mountains, behind which Petra was located. And they had lovely outdoor areas for meals, which they prepared and all of which were wonderful.

I walked gingerly from the residential area where the guesthouse was to the town. It’s not far, but the descent was so steep I had to take little baby steps to avoid slipping.

There is not much in the town. Souvenir stands with names link ‘Indiana Jones’, hotels, and restaurants. A lot of things were closed. Normally, Petra sees up to 10,000 tourists a day during high season and about 6,000 per day in the low season. Right now, I was told, they are getting 150-300 per day. So the scene in Wadi Rum was…quiet.

I walked and settled in to the patio of a restaurant for a cigar and a meal, watching the few tourists way away from Petra, exhausted. I talked with a doctor from the Czech Republic who was travelling solo and had just finished his day in Petra. (I ended up running him to him 2 more times in Wadi Rum.)

I finished the day with a cigar and an elaborate dinner at the lodge, watching the city light up and listening to the call to prayer. Wonderful. I stayed up way too late, given that the next morning I planned to be at Petra at 6:00 am.

Canada North America

Ottawa Weekend

Ottawa isn’t that interesting and neither is this post, but the truth is, I was still happy to be traveling anywhere during covid.

Sill in the throes of the pandemic, I was yearning to travel somewhere, but I wasn’t willing to do the whole hotel quarantine / two-week quarantine thing again, so I looked at Canadian destinations. There was a stupidly cheap flight to Ottawa, so it thought, ‘why not see the capital?’

I left late Friday night and arrived very early Saturday morning. I was to leave Sunday afternoon. Just one night. It was enough. That is not to say that I didn’t have a good time. I dd. But just that I didn’t need a long time to do what I did.

I stayed at the Swiss Hotel, a delightful small, independent hotel in a cute heritage building, but with nice minimalist décor. The owner, a woman from Switzerland, was an excelled host, and I enjoyed conversations with her in the garden courtyard.

Ottawa surprised me as being both nicer and less nice than I expected. The photogenic centre was really nice. I loved the large, oldish buildings and all of the statues. The buildings aren’t that old, but they best those in Vancouver, so it felt like a nice change.

I liked the canal and the boats, though I decided against taking one (the idea of being outside in the July heat whilst wearing a covid mask did not appeal to me). I enjoyed walking around the park, and the parliament buildings. It important to not though that these things were closed. The museums, galleries, and parliament tours…all closed. It was a bit disappointing, but it also made the short visit much more do-able.

The less nice part of Ottawa, is that the picturesque part is bordered by a pretty grim area. I mean, it’s not terrible and not as bad as in Vancouver, but I was a bit surprised to see so many homeless people, and people who appeared homeless collapsed or staggering about drunk and high. Lots of litter, crumby businesses, closed storefronts, and graffiti tags. Just a little surprising.

I enjoyed walking around this market area and having coffee and strolling in the park.

The best thing though, which was totally unexpected to me was that Ottawa is connected to a city in Quebec (Hull or Gatineau) by a bridge and it is a short walk.

So I walked across the bridge. And like magic, when I reached the other side, the signs and conversations switched to French. The area near the bridge was a cute, historic area with brick buildings and festive restaurants and bars.

There was also a good, self-directed walk that led one around the neighbourhood and past various points of outdoor artistic interest. I liked it. Not amazing, but pleasant.

I walked around some more. Ate something unmemorable, and finished the day in the hotel courtyard with a cigar, which was most pleasant. (There are no cigar lounges in Ottawa.

The next morning before my flight I basically just went for a leisurely breakfast. I wouldn’t go back to Ottawa, but if for some reason I found myself there for work or something, I would go to the National Gallery of Canada and take a Parliament tour. I do think those things would be interesting, but not interesting enough to plan another trip.

So I am glad that I went, but I would fall short of recommending it, unless of course you find yourself in a global pandemic and unable to leave the country. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen twice.

Europe Ukraine

In Love with Lviv

I arrived too early on my night train. The train I took left at the best time for me and had only one stop but it got me in at like 6:00am. I should have booked a hostel room for the night before so I would have a room to go to. But instead I took a tram from the train station to the town centre, grabbed a coffee from the one place I found that was open at that time a day and sat in the town square for a while, watching the city wake up, feeling a little like Belle at the beginning of Beauty and the Beast, except that I didn’t want to leave.

I was instantly smitten with Lviv. It is so pretty. Like any of those really pretty small European cities. It has charming narrow streets lined with inviting cafes and eateries, spilling out onto the street. Beautiful buildings. Really old churches ranging from haunting to impressive. Quaint town squares. Lots of flowers. It’s just wonderful.

I was so happy to walk around. Kyiv was cool and impressive but Lviv was charming.

I ate some great meals there, from traditional Ukrainian to excellent Italian to a really wonderful Armenian meal. And everything was so in expensive. Like I had a meal with salad, pasta, and wine at a really cute place and it was like $12 Canadian. Kyiv was also very inexpensive but it really hit me in Lviv.

Oh, and Lviv has tones of excellent coffee shops, ranging from cute to cool, but all with a real focus on excellent coffee, like you would find in any more famous coffee city. (And chocolate shops. Lviv is famous for them.)

There isn’t much in the way of “must see” sights in Lviv. You kind of just go because it is lovely. I was happy to see the churches and soak up the atmosphere.

An excellent little cafe selling bread items filled with meat, cheese or fruits

On my first day of walking around I spotted the big opera house, took a photo, and figured it would be closed due to Covid-19…but it wasn’t. It was open and there was a show on that night.

I was thrilled. Because of the pandemic, I hadn’t been to a live show in a year or more so I decided to see this show, whatever it was. What it was was a show called When the Fern Blooms, from the 1970s, but banned by the Soviets, so it is only in recent years that it has been produced.

I can’t tell you what it was about. I don’t speak Ukrainian and it didn’t have surtitles, but it was clearly very patriotic. It started off well, but honestly it ended up corny, and reminded me of cheesy 1970s sci-fi movies mixed with the big number at the end of the movie Stayin’ Alive. But the good things outweighed my criticisms. It was opera, I was there, I was entertained, and…In the interest of social distancing I bought myself an entire opera box and paid very little. It was either $30 or $60 Canadian. I felt like a king. A masked king.

I stayed at the Lviv Dream Hostel, which was excellent. Perfect location, great amenities and hangout areas, as well as maybe the cleanest hostel kitchen I have ever seen.

There weren’t many backpackers there but lots of people who were in Ukraine working remotely because life was better there at that time than in their own countries, in terms of the pandemic. One guy, an accountant from San Francisco, was told by his employer he would have to work remotely for at least another few months, so he decided to work remotely from Europe. Why not? The place just had a great hostel atmosphere, even if the style of traveller was a little different at that time.

On my next day, I had planned to visit the yard of lost toys, which became pretty blog and Instagram famous as a courtyard in a residential neighbourhood where people had collected and put on display a group of ever-changing lost toys. I found the courtyard, but the toys were gone. I would like to think they all found homes, but the truth is, the residents probably got tired of looky-loos tramping through their backyard. And rightly so.

I did carry on however and visited the Lychakiv cemetery, which is excellent. It is a huge cemetery, still in use, but dating back to the late 17th C. It is massive and very green and peaceful. Perfect for a walk. I was lucky enough to come across some gathering (not a funeral) that involved passionate singing.

That evening I just meandered around and had a meal and cigar. Enjoyed some wonderful traditional music from a busker. I had enough time there and I feel no need to return, but I really loved my time in Lviv.

When I left, instead of the train, I took a short, cheap flight back to Kyiv.

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.

Canada North America

Whitehorse Weekend

I had never thought much about the Yukon aside from having to learn its location and capital in elementary school, and I would not have gone if it wasn’t or a pandemic trapping me in Canada. While I can’t say that my long weekend trip to the Yukon (Whitehorse and Dawson City) was amazing, it was a pretty good short trip from Vancouver and I would recommend it, provided you like outdoorsy things.

View of Miles Canyon outside of Whitehorse, Yukon

Coronavirus & Travel

Covid. I have to say something about it because it is the only reason I decided to travel domestically (within Canada). It was March 2020 and I was 24 hours away from a weekend trip to New York when the pandemic was declared and the directive not to travel came down. I cancelled that trip and trips over the next few months to Denmark and Ukraine. I had trips for the rest of 2020 planned to Sudan, Iraq, et cetera, but none of that came to be. Obviously there are far worse things than not traveling (someone is always worse off than you and it is a bit of folly to compare suffering), but not being able to travel has been awful. It is the only thing I really want to do and without it, I live in a city I am a bit lukewarm about and all I do is work. Without travel to look forward to, life feels a bit pointless. That’s how I feel anyway.

By August 2020, I realized things weren’t going to open up any time soon and I decided to see something in Canada, so I picked the Yukon. It’s close to Vancouver and looked interesting. At the time, people from British Columbia were the only travelers allowed into the Yukon; everyone else was shut out due to coronavirus fears. It seemed like an easy choice and I decided to visit Whitehorse and Dawson City.

Whitehorse

I flew to Whitehorse. My first covid flight. Masks and lots of extra questions. I took a taxi from the airport to my accommodations: the Historical Guesthouse. If I returned I would definitely stay there again. It’s a log house built in 1907. It has a few rooms and shared facilities with a suite in the basement. It is simple and cozy with a great location. The best part though was that in the back is a colorful garden with sunflowers and raspberry canes. The owners live in a log cabin behind that. I quickly discovered that the husband of the couple is an avid cigar smoker. I was in heaven. I spent each of my two nights there with him (Bernie) sitting in the garden smoking cigars until late and swapping stories. He has a lot of good ones from his many years of living in the North.

Whitehorse the city itself isn’t anything that special. It’s small but not so small as to be quaint. There are some shops, but not much of interest. There is an arts scene, but it was shut down when I went because of the virus. You could easily see the town in a day (or less).

That said, I really enjoyed myself. I was so happy to be away. I walked the streets, photographed some street art and old buildings of character.

I was delighted by the foxes that seem to be everywhere in town if you get up early enough.

I was amused by the Yukon take on the covid social distancing signs that the government had erected. I now have a good sense of how big a caribou is compared to a loaf of sourdough bread.

Because of covid, many restaurants were just closed and many others were only doing takeout, so I didn’t get a sense of the restaurant scene, but I enjoyed a fancy grilled cheese from a cart and got coffee and soup to go from the Burnt Toast Café. And both evenings I had amazing vegan ramen from Wood Street Ramen.

The MacBride Museum of Yukon History was open and it worth a visit.

The thing that is best about Whitehorse, at least during my pandemic visit, was the outdoors. There is a nice riverfront with a path for walking and cycling and there are lots of bike rental places, as well as places to rent kayaks and canoes. Going canoeing seemed like fun, but I wasn’t about to just go out on my own. But I did walk and wander.

If one is so inclined there are tons of day canoe or kayak or hiking excursions around Whitehorse and if you don’t go in the middle of the summer, as I did, there are the Northern Lights. But I filled my two days easily without those things. If I had been there with other people or I had a car, there are quite a few day trips one could do to see a weird desert, pretty lakes, and quaint communities. I really wanted to visit Carcross (a tiny town with a vibrant First Nations community and lots of art) but you need a car. If I went back I would figure out a way to do that.

Day one I explored the town.

Day two I went on a hike that somehow took me eight hours when it should have taken four. The Miles Canyon Loop. It is walk-able from town and is far, but not difficult. Very scenic. Endless green trees cleaved by a jewel blue river with high, rock walls. It was the sort of scenery I wanted from my Canadian North excursion.

I had two full days and two nights of sight seeing in Whitehorse. On day three I flew to Dawson City, the old timey old west city in the Yukon, which was great: history, colorful old buildings, shipwrecks, and a human toe.

I wouldn’t say that one should travel from far flung parts of the globe to visit Whitehorse, but if you are already in the vicinity (like in Vancouver) it is an inexpensive, quick, and enjoyable place to do some outdoorsy stuff and see something a bit different. I would even consider going again once this stupid pandemic is over.

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.

Central America / Caribbean Panama

Panama Bound

It was a super cheap flight that inspired me to go to Panama. That sounds crass, but it’s true. I’ve not thought much about Panama as a destination, but a $273 round trip ticket was inspirational. I left Thursday right afterwork, changed planes in Mexico City, and by Friday afternoon I had landed in Panama City.

I stayed in Casco Viejo. The old city, reborn. There seemed no other options really. The new city of Panama just looks like a jumble of skinny high rises, malls and traffic. Casco Viejo is a pretty grid of revitalized colonial buildings jutting out into the sea, painted with striking colours.

There are several lovely looking hotels, but I opted for the Hospedaje Casco Viejo; a functional hostel with little in the way of services or amenities but a some private rooms and great location at a cheap price.

I took a taxi from the airport. My driver was a woman of a grandmotherly age named Ana. She spoke a little English and I enjoyed chatting with her so we made plans for her to drive me around a bit the next day. But in the meantime, I had wandering to do.

Casco Viejo is small. I walked nearly every street in a few hours, but it is lovely. About 16 years ago it was crumbling, broken, unsafe. But now, through the magic of capitalism and gentrification (about which I have mixed feelings – and so do the locals, judging by some signs and grafitti I saw), it is pretty and safe. On that first evening it was just what I wanted.

I visited the many churches, paused in the squares and photographed many of the colourful buildings.

I finally settled on a place to eat, which wasn’t as easy as it should have been. There are tons of restaurants in Casco Viejo, but they are mostly either too touristy or too fancy and none of them seemed just right. I finally settled on a cafe (yes, touristy, but not cheezy) with a leafy courtyard.

Of course, then it was time for a cigar. There is a La Casa Del Habano with a good selection. I bought a cigar and was going to settle into one of their inviting leather chairs when they broke the news: no smoking. I think I audibly gasped and clutched my non-existent pearls. They had cigar ashtrays out, lighters, and cozy comfy chairs. But no. Smoking is not allowed indoors. Period. I don’t know exactly what the law is here on smoking, but many patios are also non-smoking. Fortunately, I found a seafood restaurant down the street from the La Casa with a generous patio and virgin piña coladas. I settled in with a Bolivar (always the right cigar to start a holiday in Latin America – if you don’t know why, check your history) and a book and stayed until it started to rain.

Had that been my only time in Casco Viejo, that would have been fine. In a few hours you can see it, eat, stroll, and hang out. It would be rushed though. The next day I had other sites to see.

Wandering North

Tag: cigar

Copenhagen Long Weekend: A pleasantly surprising start

Arrival

Exploring Copenhagen

Freetown Christiania

Smørrebrød, cigars, and my assessment of Copenhagen so far

Wadi Rum

Finally…Petra!

King’s Highway: Amman to Petra

Ottawa Weekend

In Love with Lviv

Kyiv, Ukraine

Whitehorse Weekend

Coronavirus & Travel

Whitehorse

Sofia, Bulgaria

Panama Bound