Covid Archives - Wandering North

Central America / Caribbean Guatemala North America

Antigua, Guatemala

Prologue

I try not to mix work and travel. That isn’t always possible, and I will work on holiday if I have to, but I try to keep it minimal. But when the law firm I work at, inspired by the working for home trends we all got used to during covid, announced that we could take an extra week away in a remote work ‘workation’, I wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass by. Yes, I would have to work, but I could do it from anywhere. I realized staying in a relatively comparable time zone would be essential and I wanted to go somewhere I hadn’t been. I put on my digital nomad hat and decided on Antigua, Guatemala.

Because I spent my 9ish days in Guatemala mostly working, I’ll condense it down to three posts: one about Antigua, one about cigars in Antigua, and one about my trip to see the pyramids at Tikal.

Arriving in Antigua

I landed in Guatemala City and took a taxi to Antigua. It is cheaper to take a bus or shuttle, but my flight had been delayed by man hours and I just wanted to get where I was going with minimal hassle and delay. I chatted with my driver, Carlos, who told me mostly about the covid restrictions in Guatemala, which was masks required everywhere. Even outside and even in your own car. Of course, as he told me about this and we discovered we were of like minds, we ditched the masks. As it turned out, enforcement was minimal, so I ended up only having to mask indoors.

I had booked myself an Air BnB in the historic centre of Antigua. I am not usually a self-contained apartment rental person (I like the interactive-ness of hostels and having front desk people to answer questions and give advice; but I was there to work, so a quiet place all to myself was required. I chose well. I little one room apartment with everything I needed, including, most importantly, a pleasant courtyard with a table where I could work and a hammock where I could relax. It was simple, cute, and affordable.

That initial drive into Antigua was fabulous. It is so pretty and colorful. The whole town is a Unesco site, so nothing is out of place. All of the buildings are either low rise, colorful, Spanish colonial or grand barroco antigueño buildings. There are no billboards, no advertising, no neon – even the banks had low key signs that sort of disappeared into the overall traditional design. It looked like a movie. Or a dream.

The streets were cobbled. As we drove in, we passed the leafy central park square, which was filled with people at a crafts market, enjoying the shade, or strolling through. It seems like every block revealed some picturesque church, fruit stand, or building. And high above the buildings in the distance were volcanos – proper ones. Triangular mountains with, sometimes, plumes of smoke pouring out of the top. It was all perfect. I congratulated myself for having chosen well.

It was Saturday and it was late afternoon. By the time I left my room, it was getting dark. I used that first evening to walk around and get my bearings. I had dinner from a food cart near one of the churches (something vegetarian and spicy and crunchy with avocados for about $1) and found a cigar lounge near the yellow arch and enjoyed a Cuban cigar before walking back for bed. Antigua felt totally safe, and I did walk around at all hours of the day and night without issue.

The real sightseeing would be the next day – Sunday – before I started my workweek.

Sunday Sightseeing

As this was probably going to be my one free day to see Antigua, I didn’t have time to waste. I got up and out early. The air was beautiful. Warm and sunny, but not hot. I walked out onto the streets which seemed to be lined with trees and bursts of colored flowers at every turn. And this is on top of the colorful and cute buildings. Everything was charming.

Antigua doesn’t have a bunch of big sights or attractions. The attraction is the town itself, for how pretty and well preserved it is. And it does not disappoint. I walked up and down almost all the main streets that day, stopping into churches and cafes as I went.

The local transportation is even charming: colorful and shiny “chicken buses” (repurposed and highly decorated old formerly yellow school buses) rolling down the cobbled streets.

I visited the market at the park and walked down the street with the distinctive yellow arch, which was originally built as a passageway to allow nuns to get from a building on one side of the street to the other.

It definitely feels touristy in Antigua, but as it was still covid times, the tourists were not overrunning the place and it is still certainly a place where people live and work. Most of the people I encountered didn’t speak English (or spoke only very little). And it didn’t feel like all of the businesses were there to cater to tourists only.

There are museums, but I skipped them. I was worried about running out of time to do my aimless wandering.

I think a day in Antigua would be good to see it; two if you want to do museums and enjoy more of the restaurants; three if you want to relax. I was happy with my one day of walking and didn’t feel like I would be deprived when I sat down to work the next day. But as it turned out it was great to have the week; even though I was working, I got to experience more of the daily life and what it is like to have a routine while traveling, which was a bit novel for me.

Work Week

I’ll spare you the details of my work life, but I enjoyed this experiment in remote work. Every morning I got up ridiculously early and went on a lovely walk, each day stopping at some new café, before heading back to my abode.

I would work all day – smoking cigars the entire time – and then wrap it up around 5:00pm when I could. I work much longer days when I am at home, but I could be a bit more efficient working there as there was no chit chat and time wasting. Plus, I was motivated to finish early to I could go out.

Every evening I would walk, go to a different place for dinner or walk around some street I had missed previously, and I would go for a cigar. I have a bit to say about the cigar scene in Antigua, but I’ll put that in a separate post. Suffice it for now to say that cigars remain one of the best ways (for me) to connect with a group of people in a new place and Antigua was no exception.

Café Culture

A word about cafes: Antigua has a lot of great ones. It was overwhelming, actually. So many that were cute or historic, or trendy, or had excellent offerings of beans and methods of delivery. A lot of them had tasty food and vegetarian or vegan treats. It was great. Occasionally I spent an hour in the morning or afternoon working from the ones with wifi. I could have stayed longer to go to them all. I had this plan at one point to discuss my favourites and write little reviews, but that’s not really my thing. Just get out there and stumble on them, drink coffee, and be delighted.

Reflections

This remote work week was a nice routine. Every day when I finished work I was in a foreign city and that felt like a bonus. Like I was getting away with something.

As much as I liked Antigua, I couldn’t live there. It’s too small and I would feel trapped there not knowing how to drive; and as pretty as it is, that would lose its charm, I think. Plus, I think that when the pandemic ends, and tourism is back to normal I could see it being unpleasantly touristy, like Bali. I could probably have spent another week, but I don’t see myself looking to retire there or anything.

It was, though, relaxing. Maybe my most relaxing trip ever because there weren’t a million things to do, and I wasn’t run off my feet doing things all day. It was just work and leisurely evenings. A vacation with relaxation…what a concept. This is pretty new to me, as I tend to travel quickly. I like to learn about a place and experience it, but I don’t relax much and have a restlessness to move on. This was a different experience.

Moving on

Anyway, the last weekend I had there only gave me one more free day. I needed all day Sunday to get home, but Saturday was all mine and there was no way I was leaving Guatemala without seeing the magical-looking Tikal. But that is for another post.

Asia Iraq Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022 Kurdistan

Arrival in Iraqi Kurdistan

I decided to go to Iraqi Kurdistan in Northern Iraq. As with so many of my trips, I didn’t really have a good reason; just an interest and a winnowing down of alternative destinations based on weather, or covid restrictions, or where I went last. So I booked myself a flight to Erbil (also spelled Irbil or called Hawler).

Let’s get this out of the way right off the top: Iraq / Kurdistan / Iraqi Kurdistan? What I am I talking about? Iraq, as we all know, is a country. A high profile one. The capital is Baghdad. It is famous for, amongst other things, Saddam Hussein and Aladdin. That’s straightforward. Where things get murky is the Northern bit, which is where I went. I’m not going o attempt to break down the history of the Kurds or Iraq or the Middle East generally, but suffice it to say that the northern part of the country of Iraq is under control of the Kurds, which is why it is often called Kurdistan. Though Kurdistan also broadly refers to lands in several countries, like Iran and Turkey, where many Kurdish people live.

*Map of Kuridstan – where the Kurdish people traditionally and predominantly live*

The northern, Kurdish part of Iraq has its own government, flag, laws, visa system, etc…but it isn’t technically its own country.(At least not in the narrow, UN-defined definition of country.)This is always a treacherous topic and places like Scotland, Palestine, Tibet, Taiwan, and Kurdistan are amongst those places where statehood is…a matter of some debate. I’m not going to go down that path. According to the map and the stamp in my passport, the currency in my wallet, and the address of my hotel, etc, I was in Iraq, but I know that merely calling it Iraq is not entirely accurate and is also disrespectful to the Kurdish people, who have fought for their independence, so I have been saying I was in Iraqi Kurdistan or Northern Iraq, depending on my audience and how comfortable they are with geography and history.

Erbil is the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan and one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world. (You will see it on the map above near Mosul.) As far as human civilization, it dates back to about 5,000 BCE. Over the centuries it has been a part of a long list of empires from the Assyrians to the Ottomans. It is all very interesting, but this isn’t ‘Wandering Encyclopedia Britannica’, so for a proper history, you should probably read a book, but it is worth looking into, even if all you is read the history section of an Iraq travel book.

People speak Kurdish there, but may also speak Arabic. It is a Muslim part of the world. It is in a mountainous region and in fact the month before I arrived, they had snow. So this is not the rolling desert terrain you might be imaging. I was there in February. It was cool in the evening and pleasantly warm in the day. A lot of the trees were still waiting for their spring greenery and there was not a lot of flowers, but there was some evergreen plants and grasses around. It would probably be more pretty in the Summer, but also brutally hot. I thought it was perfect.

I learned a few words and phrases in Kurdish, which proved to be mostly helpful in impressing people with my efforts. Those that spoke English were happy to do so, and with those that did not, I relied on my excellent combination of charades and smiling.

I landed at the airport, flashed my PCR test and vaccination status (the former was required the latter was not, which was different from what was on the government website) and got a visa on arrival, which is available to people from many countries, including Canada. The visa required no paperwork, but does demand a fee of $70 or $75 US (it seems to fluctuate). No questions asked, I breezed through. I changed some money to Iraqi Dinars. And I was in Iraqi Kurdistan.

The sun was just setting as I took a taxi into the city. It wasn’t immediately impressive, but nor was it off-putting.

I was staying at the Erbil View Hotel. Not a bargain, but one of the better options available. Erbil does not have hostels. It does have some budget hotels in the centre, but you can’t book them online and even in walking around, none of them were immediately apparent. So I guess if you are really on a budget, the thing to do would be to book a first night at a pricier hotel and then look for a cheaper option. I stayed put. The reception staff (who were lovely) upgraded me to a suite that was easily twice the size of my apartment and very comfortable. And…smoking was allowed!

But I didn’t have time to lounge in my room. I set out for the centre. It was dark but I had figured out my walking route ahead of time. (Time studying maps ahead of time always pays off.) In about 10 minutes I was at the centre, in between the citadel and the bazaar, surrounded by tons of people enjoying the evening in the square.

Everything was bustling. Families and friends out, drinking tea, people walked around selling nuts and fruits and cotton candy and balloons. It had a festive air. Not what you think of when you imagine Iraq – even Iraqi Kurdistan – after dark.

I did sort of a loop around, dazzled by how bright and colorful everything seemed. (Admittedly I was probably delirious from that cocktail of jet lag and excitement.)

I was starving but realized pretty quickly that none of the restaurants had vegetarian food. One man said he could barbeque me some tomatoes, but I passed. Fortunately, the streets radiating out from the bazaar were lined with street food vendors. Most of it was meat, but there was also falafel. Joy! Perfectly fresh falafel made for throngs of hungry people who crowded around. It was served in soft, pointy pita-style bread and covered with pickled vegetables and spicy yellow sauce. And it was about 60 cents. Canadian.

Satiated, and not ready to return to my room, I walked to the most appealing place: a 2^nd floor patio decked out with Christmas lights and producing plumes of fruity smoke. Shisha and falafel, the perfect combination.

It was packed, but I found a seat and puffed away on a lemon mint shisha combo, while sipping on lemonade and snacking on pistachios and cashews. It was mostly young, local people. I didn’t see any other tourists (nor did I for the rest of the trip.) I was content. I had made it and it was off to a good start.

I walked a slightly different path back to my hotel and slept, excited for the next day when I could really explore. (There will be more photos on the next post. Most of the ones on this first night came out dark and blurry. What can I say? It was dark and I was excited.)

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

Amman Arrival

Why Jordan / Why Now

When Canada dropped the covid quarantine requirement for its returning, vaccinated travellers, I knew it was time to plan something. I had been to Ukraine a couple months prior and that went well so it was time go farther afield. The number one place I wanted to go was Jordan.

Jordan had been high on my list of places to go for many years. Decades, really. But somehow I never went. As I visited other big heritage sights (the pyramids in Egypt, Machu Picchu, Abu Simbel, Lalibela, etc) I sort of held on to Jordan, figuring I would go there one day and I liked having Petra in the future, as something to look forward to. Then the pandemic hit and travel was effectively taken away for a time and I thought that Jordan, and Petra in particular, would be the place I would go as soon as I was able. No more putting it off; ‘one day’ may never come. And so I went.

Covid Travel

I flew to Amman from Vancouver via Toronto and Doha, covid tests, vaccination forms, pre-approval paperwork all in hand. It is easy in this time of travel to get frustrated by the queues, the ever-changing restrictions, the paperwork. I could spend half my time I airports feeling frustrated by the rules and the other half of my time feeling irritated by the people who do not follow the rules, but instead I have adopted a mantra of “I’m just happy to be here.” Whenever I want to simmer about yet another hour long queue to show my paperwork yet again or about the person seated next to me on the plane who just refuses to wear their mask, I just remind myself that I am just happy to be traveling, hoops and all.

As of the writing of this, to enter Jordan without a quarantine or test at the border, you must be double vaccinated with an approved vaccine and have pre filled out a form through the https://www.visitjordan.gov.jo that gives you a QR card that you show before boarding and again on arrival. Officially, masks and gloves are required in all indoor, public places, but I didn’t see a single person wearing gloves and mask use was…inconsistent at best. But all of that may change at any minute.

Amman

I arrived in Amman at about 11pm and by 11:30 was pulling up to my hostel (the Cabin Hostel) in the heart of the city and was delighted to see that even at that late hour, the city was alive. Everything was open and the streets were busy. I don’t know why people would be shopping for suits and spices at close to midnight, but if it strikes your fancy, you can do it in Amman.

The Cabin Hostel, by the way, is perfect. You couldn’t ask for a better location, surrounded by inviting cafes and restaurants, on the edge of the souks, and a short walk from both the Citadel and the Roman Theatre. It has cozy dorms and serviceable private rooms, and a shady rooftop for breakfasts and general socializing. And it is cheap.

The next morning, I set off early with my sights set on the Citadel. The map showed that it was not far – and it isn’t – but the thing I quickly realized about Amman is that they don’t call it the city of seven hills for nothing. Indeed, that might be an understatement. It seemed that everywhere I went I was walking uphill. In some areas the hills were so steep that the sidewalks just became daunting staircases. All the better to work up an appetite for falafel. It was fine, if not leisurely, for walking. It was hot though. As a demonstration, this is me as I left my hostel that morning:

And this is my one hour later, red-faced and sweaty, though quite happy:

The Citadel is an historical site occupied since about 1800 BC and is most famous for being the site of the Temple of Hercules, of which several columns remain and, fantastically, has the remnants of a massive statue of Hercules. It’s just a part of a hand and an elbow but they are large and delicately carved. The original monument must have been amazing.

The Citadel also offers great views of the city.

From there I meandered my way down to the 2^nd century Roman theatre.

And then I wandered the streets, visiting the souks and a few mosques.

I saw the first of some excellent street art murals.

Exhausted from the heat and the walking I spotted an inviting balcony on a second level of a building and popped in for some fresh lemon mint juice and a matching lemon mint shisha, happy for the breeze and for a bit of distance from the hectic streets. The waiter did not speak English, but continually stopped by my table to mutter things to me. On my way out, just as I began descending the stairs to leave, he approached me and grabbed my hand, pulling me for a kiss. I gave him a sharp “No” and shoved him back against the wall. He accepted his defeat and simply said goodbye. In English. I thought, “Great, am I going to have to deal with this bullshit the whole trip?” Thankfully, I did not and that was the only bit of harassment I faced.

I walked (really, climbed) to Rainbow Street, which is a street full of eateries, shops, and galleries, for dinner. I wasn’t crazy about it. Everything seemed a little too expensive and not that appealing, but my opinion on that seems to be the minority.

I finished the day joining the masses wandering around the souq area near my hostel at night, enjoying the reprieve from the heat, until finally settling in on a quite alley for some fresh fruit juice and a cigar, watching the crowds and the on again-off again amorous advances of the many stray cats.

It was a packed day. I didn’t see everything of course, but it was a good start, and I would be back at the end of my trip, but the next day was a trip down the King’s Highway to Petra.

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

Escaping the Lavra and Leaving Kyiv

I flew back to Kyiv from Lviv. A short flight; less than one hour. And I was back in Kyiv. Back at the Dream Hostel. I has already done nearly everything that I wanted to do in Kyiv, with two exceptions: I wanted to visit the Kyiv Pechersk Lavra and I needed to get a Covid test to return home.

The Pechersk Lavra

The Lavra is a monastery complex that sprung up around the original cave monastery founded in about 1000. It is filled with stunning churches and sacred caves. Judging by the number of bearded and black robed priests wandering about with staffs or chalices, it is an operating religious site and not just a series of photo opportunities (though it is great for the latter as well).

To get them you take the metro to the Arselana station, which is often proclaimed to be the deepest subway station in the world, although I have read that there is one deeper in Pyongyang. Even if it was not the closest stop to the Lavra, I would have made a point of going there to the [second] deepest metro station in the world.

From the metro, it is a nice, easy walk to the Lavra, past various cafes, past one of the coolest Soviet hotels I have ever seen, and through a lovely park, with statues, a Holocaust memorial site, and excellent views of the city.

The Lavra, as I mentioned, is churches. Several of them, most of them open to the public, and all but one, which was purely historical, are full of worshippers. Mostly women it seemed, in colourful headscarves, lighting candles and standing in silent prayer.

There are also a few shops, a giant silver egg, like a Ukrainian disco ball, and a bell tower that regularly proclaims itself with peals of extended chimes.

Most unique to the site were the monastery caves. They are a labyrinth containing small churches and altars, and narrow corridors, lit by candles. In addition to the shrines and rows of mummified monks, covered in ornate blankets and lying in glass coffins. There were a lot of people visiting when I was there. We queued up and descended single file into the bowels of this church, descending down in a corridor that was very narrow (no room for passing or changing your mind and turning around) and barely tall enough to to stand in. I am not claustrophobic, but moments like that is it possible to not be suddenly and keenly aware of the lack of space and means of escape? And to make things worse, everyone but me was carrying a thin, lit, candle. Ok, maybe I was being too safety conscious, but all I could think was how each person was inches from the next, with scarves and hair flowing, and…open flame? This seemed like a situation with an inevitable, macabre ending.

People gathered – no, tightly clustered – in a small chapel room, and then filed down the coffin-lined corridors. No photos were allowed. I was happy to be there, to see this sight, but I also wanted to get out before I suffocated, burned to death, or was trampled. So I did the loop without much stopping, and emerged into the light.

After the Lavra, i walked to the park and viewpoints around the Ukrainian State Museum of the Great Patriotic War, which was moderately worthwhile. I stopped for a falafel on the way and to view a collection of Ukrainian tanks on display. I popped into a craft market, and finally went to the Kyiv food market, which is like a gourmet food court with live string music.

I also spent a good part of my final day trying in vain to repair, and then replacing with sneakers a very cool and very new pair of Kat Von D boots that fell apart completely shortly after purchase. On the plus side, I now know how to ask for duct tape in Russian.

A few more pictures from my final day in Kyiv…

PCR Test

The covid test was not so easily sorted on line. I reading about how there were many clinics in Kyiv offering the PCR test, but could not determine which ones there were or which test they did, or how to secure an appointment. Through word of mouth though I did find a clinic (Synevo. All around the city and, at the time of writing, drop in PCR tests were done and were very cheap) and I walked there to make the inquiry. I returned the next day for the test and had my results (negative) within 12 hours.

Other than walking to and from clinics, I spent my final two days in Kyiv, walking and eating and not much else. I had done what I came to do and more.

I thought Ukraine was great. It was a good European holiday but at Mexico prices and without a big list of ‘must sees’ it was more about easy discovery, which meant that everything was delightful and nothing disappointing.

Return and Quarantine

Upon return from Ukraine, due to the Canadian laws at the time, I was required to spend 3 days in a government approved hotel as a quarantine facility and then 11 days at home, during which time I could not leave – not even to take out the trash. I had expected the quarantine to be torturous, but it was surprisingly fine. The hotel portion was very expensive ($1900 for 3 days, including food) but it was such a fabulous hotel that I did not want to leave. It even had a 9th floor patio on which I could smoke cigars while looking out at the ocean.

The home quarantine was inconvenient, but passed quickly. It is an experience I hope not to repeat, but for my first international trip in a year, it was well worth it.

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.

Canada North America

Long weekend in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

It was September 2020, still in the midst of the covid-19 pandemic, and I had been holding on to my vacation days, hoping that Canada would lift the travel restrictions and the quarantine rules so I could make up for lost time and take one of my cancelled international trips. I realized that things weren’t likely to change before the end of the year, so I may as well travel domestically. That is why I ended up in Saskatoon.

To clarify: I live in Vancouver, so I’ve seen BC. I’ve seen much of Alberta. I’ve been to Montreal. I had recently been to the Yukon. The Maritimes and NWT had quarantine rules. The flights to Ottawa and Quebec City were high. So I looked at Saskatchewan.

There is really no reason to visit Saskatchewan without a purpose, like family or work. It’s rural and flat and without much of note. (I’m sorry, but it’s true.) But doing a bit of googling (after finding a round trip flight for $119), I decided that Saskatoon looked pretty cute in parts and that it would make a good long weekend trip. And after all, I was dying to get away.

A small rant: When I told people I was going to Saskatoon, many of my friends mocked the choice, saying it was lame or boring. This irked me because people always seem to have something negative to say about anywhere I travel. I’m frequently told my destinations are too dangerous or misogynistic, that my holidays are too short, that I should visit more beaches, that I shouldn’t stay in hostels, etc. I suppose it should have come as no surprise that people would criticize even this choice, which was one of few open to me in a pandemic. Maybe they mean well, but it is annoying.

Anyway…

Saskatoon is a small city of about 250,000, next to a river and surrounded by miles of flat, prairie land. It’s not really known for anything, though locally it is known for having a good arts scene. I was determined to see what there was for myself.

I spent 4 days there, which was too long, but it was relaxing and I stayed at the excellent Alt Hotel. A bit splurgy, but it had a pretty view of the river and an excellent location. It was wonderful.

What I found, through a lot of walking, is that Saskatoon has a fairly nice, if a bit unremarkable downtown, but the area along the river is lovely. Lots of green space, walking and biking trails for miles, and pretty bridges. At the time I was there the weather was beautiful and the leaves were beginning to change, making for picturesque strolls. At night, even when it was chilly, people flocked to the river where buskers played music, people congregated, and people boated and water-skied up and down the river, blasting (mostly country) music. Maybe some of this was due to being unable to meet indoors, due to covid, but regardless, it felt festive and I had my evening cigars there, taking it all in.

Right across the street from my hotel was the Remai Modern art gallery, which is not very large but has an impressive collection – especially for a small city. Picasso lithographs, notably, and both Canadian and international artists. There is a theatre right next to that but it was closed due to the pandemic. There are lots of other museums there that are specific to local history and immigration, but this was the only one I visited. I tried to visit the Ukrainian Museum of Canada, but its hours had been reduced due to covid and I missed my opportunity.

Saskatoon has a cool neighbourhood called Riversdale with lots of great cafes, and restaurants (I’m not a foodie, but the Odd Couple was excellent), cool shops by local makers of things, and vintage shops. It was a great place for an afternoon.

Across the bridge was another cool neighbourhood along Broadway. More cafes and restaurants (Calories is great), shops, and pretty, leafy residential streets.

Broadway Theatre & Calories outdoor seating / me with a cupcake in front of a mural.

These neighbourhoods had a Portland vibe and were super pleasant to stroll through and stop for leisurely reading at cafes and maybe a cupcake.

Saskatoon also has a pretty robust street art scene, mostly downtown and around Broadway, which was a nice reward for all of my walking.

There are some other things outside of Saskatoon that would be worth visiting if one has a car (I do not), like Wanuskewin Heritage Park or this area with spooky, crooked trees and there are lots of outdoorsy areas for biking, canoeing, and whatnot. Lots to do for a few days.

So it was a pleasant, relaxing 4 days. Due to the pandemic, there wasn’t much opportunity for being social. Everything was distanced, many things were closed, and capacities reduced. Masks were worn indoors everywhere, though, thankfully, not outdoors. It didn’t hamper my experience too much, but it did keep the trip on the quieter side.

So, would I recommend Saskatoon for a holiday? Probably not. There are lots of places to go and I wouldn’t say that this tops any lists, but if you are on a road trip or going there for a purpose, it does have things to offer. Or, if you live in Canada and you are looking for an inexpensive weekend away or have vowed to travel domestically, I think it is a fine weekend away and far far better than my naysaying friends would have led me to believe.

Canada North America

Dawson City, Yukon

I flew to Dawson City from Whitehorse on the tiniest of airplanes. It was fun and felt retro – due partly to the fact that there was absolutely no pre-boarding security checks. No x-rays, no pat downs, no assessment of liquids. It was like flying in the 1970s. The airport in Dawson City is literally a one-room affair.

Dawson City is now the farthest north I have been, as it is even farther north than Helsinki. Wandering North indeed. Dawson City is a Klondike Gold Rush town, founded officially in the late 1800s but replacing a First Nations village. It soared in population during the gold rush, and then dropped off. It currently has a population of about 1400 people but is a tourist destination for people who venture that far north.

It is charming. A proper old-timey town, along the Dawson River with mud streets and raised wood plank sidewalks, wooden buildings dating back close to 100 years and most painted bright colors. It kind of feels like you are in a gold rush theme park, except that everything is authentic.

Normally the place would be busy with tourists, but this was August 2020, so Covid kept most people away. Some things, like the historic Diamond Tooth Gertie’s gambling hall (complete with dancing girls) were closed completely and others, like a number of restaurants were doing outdoor eating or takeaway only. That said, I was still able to fully enjoy my visit.

I strolled past the buildings, walked along the river and did a little hiking.

I took an excellent historic walking tour put on by the visitor’s centre daily. They let us go inside some buildings that are otherwise closed to the public and had truly excellent stories about con men, prostitutes, and adventurers to had made Dawson City home.

The thing I kept thinking was: who are these people who live here? Who choose to live in a place where it goes down to -25C in the winter and where the sun largely disappears? Where they are near…nothing aside from wilderness. I assume the must all be criminals (joking – sort of) or people who have just rejected the trappings of a more conventional life.

What really blew my mind was that on the other side of the Yukon River from Dawson City is an area that is not part of any town and that is unconnected to plumbing or electricity and people live there and commute to Dawson by crossing the river by ferry when it is not frozen and walking across when it is (there is no bridge). Being that off-the-grid is enough of a stretch but twice a year – once when things are freezing and once when they are thawing – for about 4-6 weeks, it is impossible to cross. The ferry can’t run, but the ice is not firm enough for walking. So they just have to hunker down and wait. Crazy. Admirable, but definitely not for me. There is even a guy who lives on the other side of the river in a cave and has been doing so since the 1990s.

If you do cross the river on the ferry and walk along the river for a bit you will come to the ‘paddle wheel graveyard’. A place where several late 1800s/early 1900s paddle wheel boats crashed and were just left there. They are pretty much wrecks now, but you can still see what they were and you can climb all over them. It’s eerie and really cool.

That’s pretty much all I did in Dawson City – aside from drinking a drink with a human toe in it, but I’ll save that for the next post. There were lively bars with a serious dive quality that was appealing, but covid kept me out of such places. I was there for 2 days which was pretty good. I didn’t wish for more time. I recommend it if you are in that neck of the woods. It kind of made me realize just how big and, in places, wild and unforgiving Canada is.

Tag: Covid

Prologue

Arriving in Antigua

Sunday Sightseeing

Work Week

Café Culture

Reflections

Moving on

Arrival

Exploring Copenhagen

Freetown Christiania

Smørrebrød, cigars, and my assessment of Copenhagen so far

Why Jordan / Why Now

Covid Travel

Amman

The Pechersk Lavra

PCR Test

Return and Quarantine