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Asia Azerbaijan Azerbaijan trip 2019

Arrival in Baku

I don’t think I even knew what or where Azerbaijan was until I went to Georgia and checked out the region in my plans. It sounded interesting and I was drawn to the pictures of historic mosques and the walled old city of Baku with super modern architecture rising in the background. It has not disappointed.

A bit of trivia: Azerbaijan is located here:

It is officially the Republic of Azerbaijan and is located in the Caucasus region at the furthest edge of western Asia between Russia, Armenia, Georgia, and Iran. The Caspian Sea lies to the east. It has at various times been a part of different regional empires, often going back and forth from Iranian and Russian control. It was briefly independent in 1918 before it was absorbed into the Soviet Union, where it stayed until the fall. There are portions in the south that are still disputed territories, but we won’t talk about those.

The approximately 10million people here speak Russian and Azeri. The currency is the Manat. Baku is the capital. They have oil.

I arrived from Moscow in the afternoon. I had gotten my visa online ahead of time. (The evisa system https://evisa.gov.az/en/ is very easy to use if you follow the instructions.) Security and immigration were simple and I exited the super modern airport.

There are shuttle buses and taxis (official and not) from the airport. There are also cars you can prebook online to pick you up. They have uber as well. I decided to hire an official taxi from the rank, as I didn’t feel like haggling. They gave me a general price but said the ride would be based on the meter, plus a small fee for going into the old city. The official taxis here are black British style and the drivers wear suits and ties. Smoking is allowed in the front seat but not in the back. My driver never was able to find my hotel, but I was certain that we were close and that I could find it on foot (which I did in a couple minutes). He told me the price was exactly 50 manat, which was about 15-20 manat past ridiculous, but my Russian does not include the words for con artist, so i paid the money. If I were doing it again, I would have taken an unofficial taxi and haggled for a flat fee.

I am staying at “Floors The Housing Space” which is in the old, walled city. The location is awesome. Easy to find (except for con artist taxi drivers), just 30 seconds away from a metro station and walking distance to most sites. It is pretty cheap and has a nice rooftop area. The staff are friendly (though, with my limited language skills, who can say). It is a bit weird though. The decor is quite stylish, which makes sense when you realize that the main business is not as a hostel, but as a bar / shisha lounge. On the second floor they have a small dorm room and two private rooms, but all other areas, including one area on the second floor are used for the bar / shisha lounge. So at night loads of people are coming and going – loudly. At midnight when I walked from my room to the bathroom in my pjs to wash up, there were people hanging out, smoking and drinking. Loud music carried on long after I fell asleep. I think I am the only guest staying there. Weird, but fine.

That first afternoon I explored the old city and took a walk to the sea. The old city is very enjoyable for strolling. Lots of restaurants and crafts shops, ice cream vendors, roving fruit sellers, shisha bars. Also residential areas. The structures are old, some about 1000 years old or so, including fortresses, a palace, mosques, and baths.

Old city Baku with Flame Towers in the background

It does all feel quite cleaned up. It is not as crumbly as old Tbilisi or as labyrinthine as a medina. I like it, but I might like it better if it was a bit rougher.

Poet head sculpture right next to my hostel

I visited the palace, which is now a small museum, but otherwise just poked around.

Around the old city is the regular city, which, in the centre anyway, feels very European.

There are lots of park areas with fountains and benches, carousels, and snack sellers.

It is super hot here. About 35 degrees on the first day. And humid. I see other women walking around, faces powder dry, makeup impeccable. Me? My face poured sweat, my hair stuck to me, i looked like a mess. Arriving after ~30 hours of travel didn’t help.

The lack of sleep and jet lag caught up to me. I walked to the sea, where there is a wide promenade. I sat down, back against a post, looking across the sea, trying to make out Turkmenistan in the distance, and fell asleep.

I don’t think I was out for too long, but on awaking, I knew it was time to rest, so I walked more in search of a cigar lounge I had seen online. Eventually I found it. C. Gars. I got a Partagas P2 and settled in for some quiet, indoor smoking.

After that, the sun was going down and I returned to my hotel for a small rest before going out again at 9ish for diner and a hookah. They don’t have a lot of vegetarian food here, but what I have had has been excellent. That first night I had lentil soup, fresh bread, and a baked dish of eggplant, tomato, potato, and plums.

After, i had a hookah at an outdoor cafe. It was late and I was tired, but the weather was so perfect, that it sustained me.

In that first day, which was really an afternoon, I felt like I had seen much of what I wanted to see and I was not sure what I would do the next day, but I am definitely glad I had more time.

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London Layover

I decided to go to Azerbaijan because I had about 10 days of holiday to use and I had loved a previous trip to neighbouring Georgia so much that I thought it was time I returned to the Caucasus.

There really is no quick way to Azerbaijan, so I flew from Vancouver to London, from London to Moscow, and Moscow to Baku. Mercifully, I had a nine hour layover in London. Any shorter and I would have been at the airport. So I went into London for the afternoon. I wanted to walk a different area from the past few times I was there, so I decided to walk the South Bank of the Thames.

I took the Heathrow Express to Paddington and then the tube to Westminster.

Big Ben’s tower was covered in scaffolding but I caught an over the shoulder look at the parliament buildings as I crossed the bridge. Turning onto the boardwalk, I suddenly thought I had made a terrible mistake. It was so crowded. Like shoulder-to-shoulder, shuffling along crowded. But I didn’t have a bunch of time, so I didn’t want to waste time changing gears and map consulting, so I pressed through. Fortunately it got better.

The worst of the crowds were at the beginning the walk, around the London Eye, Dungeon and Aquarium, then they thinned out. I can’t think of many things i would like to do less than go on the London Eye. Packed i to sealed glass pods with a bunch of sweaty strangers as you move slowly in a circle. My biggest gripe is the slow speed, followed by being sealed up in glass (in the heat), followed by the sweaty strangers. It occurred to me though that I would enjoy a ferris wheel if it was open at the top so you could have a breeze, and there were tables with seating for two in each, then you could order cocktails from your phone and pick then up at the bottom as you circled by. Cigar friendly, of course. This is a great idea. Get on it, someone.

Anyway, once the crowds lessened, it was a perfect walk. There were buskers, a skate park, a book market, street art, and wonderful views.

I got a burrito from a food truck and just strolled along.

I didn’t have time to visit any of the attractions, but just the fact that on one short walk I walked past all the stuff on the street that I did, but could have just popped in to see world class art at the Tate or visited Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, is amazing.

I waled to the London Bridge, catching glimpses of St. Paul’s, the Shard, the millennium bridge, and the Tower of London on the way.

I walked to A nearby Tube station and went to Green Park, where I popped in to the excellent tobacconist James J. Fox and enjoyed a Montecristo Linea 1935 in their upstairs lounge.

Leaving there, I strolled a bit more before returning to the airport, with plenty of time.

It was a perfectly pleasant afternoon and nicely broke up the long flights to Baku.

Central America / Caribbean Cuba

Weekend in Havana

A long weekend in Havana sounded perfect. I had been before, in 2014 I think, and I loved it. Mostly for the cigars, but it is a great destination in its own right – though if it wasn’t for the cigars I wouldn’t have gone back. I had already seen the sights I wanted to see in Havana, so a weekend sounded like a perfect opportunity to just hang out with no pressure to see or do anything in particular.

I left Vancouver on a Thursday evening, changed planes in Mexico City and landed in Havana at about 2:00pm on Friday. I arrived at the airport in Havana and, once through immigration, found myself doing the usual haggling with taxi drivers. They all wanted 40 or 35 CUCs, which I knew was too much. After making my counter offers, I was left rideless. I smoked a cigarillo, deciding how long to wait before upping my offering price, but then a guy who was picking up other passengers and also going to the National Hotel offered to take me for 10 CUC. Bingo.

I held the sign with the name of the family we were waiting for. When the family of four (two older couples) emerged, I suddenly found myself being asked to pose for pictures with them. I get that they were excited to travel to Cuba, but the airport pickup photos seemed excessive. I found out on the ride in that two of them were born in Cuba but left 40 years ago, moved to Puerto Rico and hadn’t seen their families since.

I arrived at the Hotel National giddy. With heat and humidity, with the excitement of being in Havana, and with the sight of that gorgeous patio facing the sea. Before even going to my room I bought a box of 10 Partagas torpedos and smoked a cigar on a wicker sofa outside.

My room was ordinary, but the Hotel Nacionale is a dream. It is this grand historical hotel that has so many stories that they do historical tours everyday of just the hotel.

From the hotel I walked mostly along the Malecon to old Havana, taking detours for street art and architecture. It wasn’t a long walk but I was dripping with sweat by the time I arrived.

I spent the rest of the day time hours walking around the old city revisiting streets and squares I have been to in the past.

Much of it was as I remembered but there were also new and refurbished buildings.

It’s such a touristy city but it still feels authentic. People live there and operate businesses. There was a new cool cafe that had opened, but next to it was still the same shack where locals paid a pittance to shoot bebe guns at beer cans.

I wandered aimlessly over that day and the next, taking time out to smoke cigars at the private room at the Partagas store and in At the La Casa in Miramar.

One of the best things that happened was walking through old Havana I heard loud Duke Ellington music and I thought, “That’s a place I need to be.” I figured it would be a bar or restaurant but when i found the door through which the blared I discovered that I had in fact walked in to a man’s humble living room.

He was older. 70 maybe. Sitting in a wooden chair in a pretty empty room next too a record player and a stack of records. I apologized a d said something about liking the music, but as I went to leave, he beckoned me in and pulled up a chair. He spoke no English and I speak only the most basic of Spanish but we hung out for the better part of an hour. He showed me his records – classic jazz and crooners. I played with his kitten and snapped my fingers along to Dexter Gordon. He played songs and I sung along to Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra. He put on an old Ray Charles album and got up to dance. He started twisting with enthusiasm. I felt suddenly awkward. Dancing with a stranger in his living room open to a busy pedestrian street is outside of my comfort zone, but I wasn’t going to sit there. That would be more awkward. So I danced. We danced for three songs and then I thanked him and left. It was a great experience. A brief connection.

I didn’t want to invade his hime by taking pictures of him, but I did take one of his kitten…and his foot.

I chilled out at my hotel in the evening, smoking cigars outside and in my room (just because I could). At about 11 pm I walked to the Fox and the Crow, nearby jazz bar and watched amazing jazz until nearly 1 am in an tiny underground bar.

And that was just one day.

The next day I did more of the same. Smoking, walking, reading, listing to buskers, drinking virgin piña coladas. It was perfect. I was actually happy to leave after two full days. I had what I wanted to do, soaked up the sun and the atmosphere; smoked more cigars than I can count. And then I was home.

I think that 2 days would not nearly be enough for a first visit to Havana, but for a second trip, for me, it was perfect. I’m sure I’ll go back for another two days of cuban cigar heaven.

Europe Scotland United Kingdom

Glasgow & Paisley

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Dean Village

From Sterling, we returned to Edinburgh. As we had already seen the main sights of the city, we decided to stay in Dean Village, an area just outside the centre, tucked away along the Water of Leith, which looks like something out of a fairy tale.

We got off the train at Haymarket Station and from there Dean Village was not a far walk, down Palmerston Place, past Mary’s Cathedral, then down hill. For the first time in my entire life I found Google maps to be of more assistance than my paper maps, which only marked Dean Village in a general sort of way.

We descended until we hit the river (the Water of Leith) and saw the view that had convinced me to stay in Dean Village in the first place…

Seriously, it is stunning. Quaint. Picturesque. I know it is Scotland and not France, but I felt like walking down the cobblestone streets, singing the opening number from Beauty and the Beast.

Dean Village, previously known as Water of Leith Village, was at one time its own village before it became part of Edinburgh in the mid 1800s. It was established in the 1100s and for about 800 years was the site of multiple mills, powered by the river. Now it is a largely residential enclave of historic charm.

Our accommodations were easy to find, as it was the historically significant Well Court, dating back to the 1800s and built as housing for mill workers. In the pictures it is the large, brick, castle-y looking building.

We had an Air bnb booked and it exceeded my expectations. It was so cozy and in this tiny two bedroom apartment, it somehow had at least six different wallpapers.

Staying in Dean Village was great. Peaceful and nice for walks. The part with the cute buildings is very small but there is also a lovely walk on a path along the river under a tree canopy. There are no shops and only one eatery in the immediate vicinity, but it isn’t a long walk to the high street, which we did for dinner.

I also took a pleasant walk to Dean Cemetery, which was very pretty, especially the areas where the trees had dropped pink blossoms amongst the headstones. It was a teeny bit spooky as I saw only one other person and the cemetery was about to close. I started imagining that I would be locked in and forced to spend the night. That did not happen, however, as I walked out the back gate onto the lawn of the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art. It had just closed and I never did get back there (which is a shame – next time), but I enjoyed walking the lawns of the two large buildings where sculptures and installations were on display.

In the distance, I saw a man with a large ring of keys walking towards the gate. Realizing I was about to be locked in to the grounds, I ran up to him and exited just as he locked the gate. In my mind, I did this Indian Jones style, barely sliding through and then reaching back for my hat. Truthfully, I kind of wish I had been locked in, because then I would have a cool story of having to climb the walls to escape the gallery grounds, but instead I just had a pleasant walk back into Dean Village to our Air bnb.

The next day would be our last in Scotland and we would do a day trip to Glasgow and Paisley.

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Wigtown, Scotland

Wigtown, Scotland is the book capital of Scotland due to an abundance of bookshops set in a small, quaint town. Each fall it has a book festival. It is on the south coast of Scotland and is home to just under 1000 people, most of whom seemed surprised to see us there as travelers.

My mum, Luba, picked Wigtown because we both love books and bookstores and she had read a book by the owner of one of the bookstores, which was all about the town and his bookshop. A small town full of bookstores and characters sounded good for me, so we made the trip south from Edinburgh. (For a detailed account of the trains and buses required to reach Wigtown, see this post here.)

We stayed at Hillcrest House, a charming bed & breakfast in an old house a short walk from both the town and the sea and run by a lovely couple from England.

The town was delightful. It is tiny. You could see everything twice in an afternoon and still get to bed early. We spent two nights and 1.5 days, which was perfect. We got to go to all of the bookstores that were open (some of them randomly close on certain weekdays), have leisurely teas and strolls. Very pleasant.

The most famous of the bookstores is The Bookshop, known for being the book store of the aforementioned book, for being Scotland’s largest secondhand bookstore, and for its cluttered and creative interior.

We browsed there for quite a while and first edition Alfred Dunhill pipe book. (I collect cigar, pipe, and tobacco books.) Sadly, the owner was away for on a buying trip at the time.

We twice went for shopping and tea at Beltie Books, which we loved due to the proprietor, who had a demeanor that was to our liking and made excellent cakes.

We loved all of the bookstores and walking to visit all of them. There is a website for Wigtown’s booksellers, but it does not include all of them. There are good maps and brochures that have better listings available at most of the shops (but certainly found at Beltie’s). The shops do keep some odd hours, so if visiting all of them is your goal, do some planning ahead of time. We were winging it, and missed some.

There are a number of cafes and eateries, including one that is all vegan and vegetarian.

I have no idea how the town functions outside of the book festival, business-wise. It is utterly charming, but everyone we spoke to seemed so surprised that we were visiting on holiday. It is quiet and certainly not overrun with tourists. We loved it though. All the locals were so friendly and…colorful. It felt somewhat like being in a BBC show set in a small town. Who knows, maybe a show set in the town is forthcoming.

We also took walks on some of the trails around the town. One led to the sea, past fields of sheep.

Another led to a martyrs execution site where the ‘Wigtown Martyrs” were tied to stakes and drowned in the 17^th C for, effectively, being staunch Catholics and refusing to take an oath to denounce a guy who had denounced the King.

That’s basically it for Wigtown. Books, tea, strolls, and martyrs. It was a lovely and relaxing stop and we both liked seeing a bit of small town Scotland, as well as the journey there and back.

With our books (Luba bought quite a few) we made the journey back north, this time to Stirling.

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Edinburgh, Scotland

Any misgivings I had about going to Scotland were dissipated upon arrival in Edinburgh. Luba and I took the train from the airport, past green fields and hopping bunnies, and arrived at the Princes Street station just in time to see a fabulous sunset and catch a glimpse of the city before total darkness descended. We both just said “wow.”

It really is a beautiful city. The hills give it a wonderful tiered quality so you can see the castle, rows of pretty stone buildings, statues, and parks all at once. But it was late and we still had to find our way to our Air bnb. We walked from the tram stop up and then down again to reach Grassmarket. Once the fav spot for public executions, then a neighbourhood for poor people, now a cool area with pubs and cafes and our lodgings. (Note to self for future non-fiction history book: “From Murder to Micro Brews: The Gentrification of Grassmarket”.) On reflection, this area was the perfect place to stay. Central and with lots of food and amenities nearby, a hilly walk to both the train station and tram stops.

We checked out our flat and I went for a quick stroll before bed. After all, there was a lot of sight seeing to come.

We woke up (to an alarm – yes I set alarms on holiday, much to my mother’s consternation) and had a coffee on Grassmarket before walking up and down picture perfect Victoria Street. It’s easy to see why it is in pretty much every Google search I did about travel in Edinburgh.

Victoria Street, Edinburgh (from the other end)

We went for breakfast on a patio overlooking Victoria Street. The sun was shining and would continue to do so. I had not been looking forward to the food in Scotland. I expected few vegetarian options other than falafel stands and salads. As it turned out, everywhere we went in Scotland there was an abundance of vegetarian and vegan options. Organic, gluten free, et cetera. I ordered a vegan Scottish breakfast, which came with vegan haggis, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, spinach, and toast. It was pretty good and now I can say I’ve had haggis (sort of).

From there we walked down part of the ‘Royal Mile’ to Edinburgh Castle, one of the two main sights in the city.

This is not the castle; it is just a fine, pointy black church

We opted not to take a guided tour, so I didn’t learn much, but we enjoyed wandering. The oldest of the existing buildings are late 16^th C but there has been a fortress of some sort on the site since at least the 12^th C. As with most of the sites in Edinburgh, it was quite busy with tourists, but there were no queues to speak of and I didn’t find the crowds bothersome, but I didn’t have the patience for a historical tour.

From there we walked more of the Royal Mile just to see what there was. As it turns out: loads and loads of touristy tartan shops. After a few days in the country even I started to get sucked in, thinking, “Perhaps I do need a tartan tam and shawl.” Thankfully, I had the sense to know that there would be no way I would wear or want such things once I was back home. Instead I bought a cigar at one of the many tobacconists in the city.

Another picture of Victoria Street.
They do have more streets here but this one is just so colourful.

We then walked back to near the Princes Street tram stop, where we parted ways. Luba went to do her own thing, and I continued to wander around. I had visions of finding a sunny patio and having a cigar, but I never did find quite the right spot. (Smoking is 100% banned inside in Edinburgh, but smoking outside, including on patios is fine; in fact, it seems to be encouraged.) I did enjoy my walk, aimlessly checking out the side streets and squares of the City Centre.

Looking back to the Old City, Edinburgh. This is not the weather I was expecting.

view of Edinburgh Castle from the City Centre

On my way back to Grassmarket, I decided to take the long way round and ended up pleasantly strolling in a cemetery and around the University of Edinburgh.

I reconnected with Luba and we went for dinner at Maison Bleue, a French restaurant on Victoria. It was a bit fancier than we were used to but it had a nice bohemian vibe.

“food first, then morals”
Maison Bleue on Victoria Street

If that has been our only day in Edinburgh, that would have been pretty satisfying, but the next day we had more planned. We walked to the Palace of Holyroodhouse: the home of the Queen of England when in Scotland and royal residence dating back to the 16^th C.

It was quite impressive. The rooms were fairly lavish and it was pretty neat to see where the Queen still has her dinners and get together when she is in town. I’m no monarchist, but I am Canadian and there is a certain interest or awareness of the Queen that is ingrained.

It was especially interesting to see Mary Queen of Scots’ bed chamber where the pregnant queen was forced to watch as her husband killed her secretary/secret lover. Historical drama! Tiny Beds!

We visited the remains of the abbey.

The grounds of the palace were especially lovely.

From there we went for a much slower stroll, stopping to check out lanes and views, and finally, to stop for a proper tea.

Fueled with caffeine and scones, we walked up Calton Hill for views over the city. The views were somewhat marred by the unfortunate angle of the sun at that time of day (morning would have been better), but the walk up was great and we chatted with a local man in his 70s who walks up the hill daily and had choice words for both Donald Trump and Theresa May.

We spent a while on the hill just enjoying the breeze and shade with a cigar and a couple of books.

After that we just ambled slowly and in a round about way back to our home, stopping to visit the Greyfriars Kirkyard and Kirk that I saw the day before and the café where J.K. Rowling apparently wrote much of Harry Potter. (Harry Potter has become a real claim to fame for Scotland. Take that, Robert Burns!)

There is so much more to do in Edinburgh, but we just wanted to be a bit more relaxed in our pace and decided we could skip museums and galleries.

What we couldn’t skip was browsing around Armstrong & Son’s vintage clothing shop, which itself has been in business since about 1840. It was a delight, though we both walked away empty handed.

We packed in it early that night as the next day we had an early train to catch heading south. I loved Edinburgh, could easily see myself living there, and looked forward to returning at the end of our jaunt.

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An Afternoon in London, Or ‘How Solo Travel Has Made Me A Bit Of A Jerk’

Scotland wasn’t on my travel list. It looked lovely, but these days I crave destinations that are more far-flung and a little dangerous maybe. I can’t stand it when I tell people where I am going and they have their own suggestions. “Oh you must go to this restaurant.” Et cetera. Scotland was one of those destinations. Plus, as of writing, it isn’t an independent country, so I don’t even get the satisfaction of going to a new country. Not that that is the reason I travel, but I do like lists.

So when I said to my mother, “Would you like to take another international trip with me?” and she said “Scotland” I was fine with it, but not excited. I stifled the urge to say something like, “What about Algeria? Or Bangladesh?” Instead I got to planning.

Scotland actually has a lot of charming places, green walks, and oodles of castles. It is historic and picturesque. Choosing the right places for a 9 day trip was tough. In the end we didn’t want to spend too much time traveling all over the country, so I just picked a few destinations: a day’s layover in London, a few days in Edinburgh, a day or two in Wigtown, to Stirling, and a day trip to Glasgow.

My mum and I hadn’t traveled together since we went to Peru about 4 years prior and I hadn’t traveled with anyone since. I’m not going to lie: traveling with someone is more difficult for me than traveling solo. There are discussions. Constant discussions. Discussions about where and when to eat, where to walk, when to stop, which train to take, et cetera. Mercifully, my mother pretty much defers to what I want to do, but out of the need to be (or to appear to be) considerate, there are discussions that must be had.

The first of those discussions happened when we had our layover in London. I’ve been to London. I lived there. But Luba (my mother) had not, so I was excited to show her around the places I used to work and hang out.

I planned a walk around some of the main sights. We got a bit into the walk, though St. James Park, past Buckingham Palace, down the Mall, through Trafalgar Square, to Covent Garden and Soho, and there were plans for more, but we ran out of steam. She hadn’t slept on the plane (a red eye flight from Vancouver) and, while I had, I was tired and cranky. Then it started to rain.

Weirdly happy to see these phone box sex adverts are still a thing.
I remember them from the 90s – back when people still used pay phones

We went to a cute little patisserie in Soho, unable to agree where to go next. If I were alone, I would have kept walking, ceaselessly, until it was time to go to the airport, but Luba wasn’t up for that. Neither of us wanted to go back to the airport early, and the rain didn’t want us to sit in a park or on a patio. Day one and we were on the verge of a quarrel. This does not happen when you travel alone.

But then the perfect solution struck me. What is my solace and comfort? My favorite way to pass a quiet and contemplative time? Cigars. I said, “Well, we could walk over to St. James Street and go to the Dunhill cigar lounge. I could smoke and you could read.” Success! We were both happy. As we walked there the clouds parted. I had an extraordinary limited edition Bolivar and Luba read her book.

Both restored, we went for a bit of a circuitous stroll before going back to the airport.

In the end, we didn’t stick to my plan and cover all of the ground in London that I would have had I been alone, but I got to show my mother a bit of London and we ended up having a nice afternoon.

Solo travel has taught me a lot: how to be strong and self-reliant, how to be content with my own company, how to meet people, and how to constantly step out of my comfort zone. But solo travel has also made me a bit selfish, resistant to compromise, and bossy. I want to do what I want to do. I’m not proud of those things, but I am pleased that I can set them aside (more or less) to still enjoy traveling with my mum.

We went back to the airport and took a short and sleepy flight to Edinburgh.

Canada North America

Bonjour, Montréal! Three days in Québec

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a very cold me on the streets of Montreal

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next day I flew home.

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

Asia China Hong Kong

Hong Kong Layover (I didn’t like it, but it’s not Hong Kong’s fault)

I was excited when I found that I could schedule a day layover in Hong Kong on my flight back from Myanmar. I had never been to Hong Kong and never really had much desire, so it seemed like a great opportunity to get a taste and decide if I want to go back for more in the future. Now that I have been…I think I’m good. I would be happy to go back for another layover, but I won’t be planning to travel there as an endpoint. But let me be clear, there is nothing wrong with Hong Kong; it’s all me. And weather. (But mostly me.)

What was wrong with Hong Kong? Nothing really, it just didn’t impress, excite or intrigue me. I have traveled enough for this to not be a surprise. I was also failed to be excited by Shanghai, Taipei, and Seoul. All nice cities, but I prefer New Delhi, Istanbul, Bogota, and Tbilisi. Plus, and this is in no way Hong Kong’s fault, the weather was awful. It poured rain biblically. I was caught in it for a good hour before I found a shop selling umbrellas and I don’t think I recovered. The skies were grey and although the rain did not put a stop to my planned wandering, it did make it less pleasant. The final thing that was wrong – and is all my fault – is that I was tired. It was the final day of my travels and I had slept for maybe 2 hours. So factor all of that in.

It was cool to arrive in Hong Kong. This place that in my lifetime was a sovereign country, and then wasn’t. It is the namesake of one of my favourite Siouxsie and the Banshees songs. It seems like it could be opulent and seedy. I was excited to check it out.

The train from the airport was quick and serviceable and from there I transferred to a subway and began my planned strolls in what is the financial / business district. Cuff-links and suits. Tall buildings. Orderly streets. Dull looking cafes. (I already mentioned the rain.) I walked around around a bit. It was nice, but nothing really captured my attention.

I walked into a hilly, green park, which was objectively lovely and it was pleasant that it was so close to the financial hub, but the rain made anything other than a brief pass through unappealing.

I decided it was time to check out the other side of Victoria Harbour. I took the Star Ferry across. That I liked. Buying a thick, well worn, plastic token and riding the vintage boat to the other side of the harbour. The goal was in part to get a view of that classic Hong Kong skyline, which I did, obscured though it was by cloud and rain.

I walked for a while on the other side, on the boardwalk, which must be lovely on a sunny day, but I was deterred after an hour and took the boat back across, catching the first glimpses of blue sky.

I really liked the boat and the boardwalk. I have to say though that reminded me a lot of Vancouver on a larger scale.

From there I walked through other parts of the city. The rain eased up. I walked through very fancy shopping districts that, honestly, could have been in any major metropolis. I was on the hunt for an interesting neighbourhood. Something with character; maybe a market or some murals.

Maybe I just didn’t pick my route well, but I ended up walking through areas that were more interesting, with big ugly/appealing high rises and older streets that felt more seedy, but they also felt a bit like Chinatown districts in other cities. They were fine, but not captivating.

One bonus though was stumbling across a street presentation of Chinese dragons and drums.

I hunkered down in an appealing dive that advertised vegetarian noodle soup. I pointed at the sign with a smile and enjoyed a steaming bowl of tasty broth, veggies, tofu, and noodles. I was half way through my bowl when the waitress brought a side plate of 4 chicken wings. Had i been able to speak more words in Cantonese than thank you and hello (as I was only going to be there for a day I made no effort to learn more) I might have said, “Oh, i’m sorry, I didn’t order these.” But I couldn’t say that so I just ignored the plate of meat. When I paid for my meal and got up to leave, the server yelled at me, gesturing towards the wings. I have no idea why. I said “I’m sorry” and held my hands out, palms up, in that way that universally is supposed to suggest ‘I have nothing else to offer’ or something and left. Not a great interaction, but the soup was good.

After that I walked around more, but I didn’t see much of interest and eventually I just accepted that I was tired and wet and went back to the airport.

So my day in Hong Kong wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t that interesting. I know I could have planned an activity or gone to a major attraction like Tian Tan Buddha or gone to a museum or gallery, but I usually prefer to explore a city the first day by just walking the streets. I read up on the city ahead of time and planned a route, but maybe it just wasn’t the right one for me. I would definitely like to to back for another layover and see another area (ideally on more sleep and a sunny day), but for now, my takeaway is that Hong Kong seems like it would be a great place to live, but, for me, was not an exciting place to visit.
(Sorry.)

Wandering North

Tag: travel blog

Arrival in Baku

London Layover

Weekend in Havana

Glasgow & Paisley

Dean Village

Wigtown, Scotland

Edinburgh, Scotland

An Afternoon in London, Or ‘How Solo Travel Has Made Me A Bit Of A Jerk’

Bonjour, Montréal! Three days in Québec

Hong Kong Layover (I didn’t like it, but it’s not Hong Kong’s fault)