The United Club (IAH) & Jules Verne

I was on my way to Belize this week and had a layover in IAH.  It was a couple hours and I decided to hit up the United Club for some snacks and some quality time in a leather chair near a sunny window.  These lounges aren't nearly impressive as others globally, but they definitely have more comfortable chairs than those at the gates.

Business offerings:

• Printing: Not available in this lounge
• Copying: Available
• Faxing: Available - oddly, they suggested this as an option to print my document.  I declined.
• Meeting rooms: there were 3.  They were locked so I couldn't glance in, but only 1 was noted "In use".
• Family room: Had a nice glass door and looked sound proof.
• TV room: With several layers of chairs
• Cubicles: Filled with businessmen that were chatting rather than working

Available snacks:

• Packages of carrot sticks & ranch dressing
• Fruit: Green apples, red apples, bananas - oddly, the apples are each wrapped in saran-wrap
• Cookies: Scottish shortbread, Pepperage Farm dark chocolate milanos
• Chocolate covered peanuts
• Mixed salty-bits
• Tillamuk cheese and Pepperage Farm crackers

There was also coffee, tea, Ghirardelli hot chocolate, and a bar where you could order pop, sparkling water, juice, and an assortment of booze.  United offers a couple house wines free of charge, and has a wide selection of other alcohols and wines they do charge for.  There are price lists widely available near the bar, with a number of wines costing $3 per glass, prosecco for $12USD and a cliquot champange for $14 (odd inconsistency in pricing on the bubbles - I will also note that the duty free had a bottle of Laurent-Perrier available for $40USD).

I grabbed a diet coke and sat down in a set of four broad, squarish leather chairs.  Beside me a man yammered in Korean to either a close business associate or his wife.  Either way, it was an argument.

In the chair across from me a man sat working on his laptop.  He was a business-type that was on vacation, complete with the collared polo shirt and fancy watch.  His hair was trimmed around his ears and sparse on top of his head, but he was smiling and didn't seem so frayed around the edges.

I would be fraying.  On the phone he commented to his wife that the airline was rerouting him and even though it was only ten in the morning it was unlikely he would be home that day.

His son was sitting next to him, his short legs tagged with Nike runners sticking straight out from the top of the chair.

"I have 278 pages to go," the little boy announced.  He hadn't started reading the book yet, he was just looking at the number on the last page.

"Oh my gosh, that's a lot," his father responded jovially, looking up from his laptop.  "I think you're going to like it."

I couldn't help but think of all the books I enjoyed reading in my childhood.  In many ways they helped form the person I am today.

The boy promptly put down the book and started playing with a plastic cup full of beer nuts.  That entertainment lasted for thirty seconds.

"I'm going to start reading," the boy announced.  Standing, he grabbed his book and marched off.

"Where are you going?" his father called after him, half standing then sitting down again.  He didn't get a response.  His son was on a mission, and how much trouble could an eight year old really get into in the little United Lounge filled with serious looking adults and their flashy laptops and iPhones?

He was back moments later, book in hand, being tossed in fact from one hand to the other but certainly not opened.  Dramatically he reaseated himself on the broad leather chair.  He sipped his apple juice, the sunlight playing off the golden sides of the glass.  It was fundamentally more interesting than the book.

I spotted the name on the blue-green cover of the book.  It was "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea" by Jules Verne.  If he read it, this eight year old would have one up on me.  I had never managed to open that cover either.

Immediately I started building complexes about this fact.  True, books had helped shape my philosophical outlook on life, but what opportunities had I missed by not reading this one?  Obviously the boy's father thought this was an important component of his education.

I seriously consider downloading a copy.  Ebooks are great for exactly this sort of instant gratification.  At the same time I tried to convince myself that I really should not be listening in on the conversations of people next to me, and I definitely shouldn't be making choices based on half-heard discussions.  I'm sure I'm a better person for not having read a few things, aren't I?

I suppose that last question is open to debate.  Perhaps I should have asked the eight year old.

The boy started blowing bubbles in his apple juice.

I glanced at the clock on my cell.  Time to head for the gate.  Cue exit, stage left.

For more information on the United Club, you can check out their website.

Craving Views? Try Banff!

Some of us crave champagne truffles or rocky road ice cream (yes, I'm guilty!), others crave salt & vinegar potato chips or fresh tomatoes with salt and pepper.  The good things in life, the things that get us through the hard days.

I had a hard day today.  It made me wish for solitude, for a world with no people and infinite peace.  It made me dream of endless skies, of evergreen trees and snow capped mountains.  A place without people and without obligations.

Luckily Canada has an excellent selection of empty corners I can fly away to.

Banff is a small town located a couple hours outside of Calgary, Alberta in the Rocky Mountains.  It's a town built for skiers, filled with quaint shops and tasty restaurants.  You can use it as a gateway to visit Lake Louise and Jasper, or just go for a weekend and relax in the hot springs.

Plus, if you want to get away from your friends, coworkers or other tourists, the gondola awaits to sweep you up the mountain to a place where the silence is pregnant with speechless awe.

Details:

Transport: A taxi costs ~$8CAD from town and it's a short drive but a bit far for walking.  There is a large parking lot if you have a rental car, and public transit is also available.

Cost: $35+tax per adult

Length of gondola ride: I wasn't timing, but about 5-10 minutes each way.

Total time: Give yourself a couple hours total to wander around at the top, take 1,000 pictures, pause for a hot chocolate, and then take 1,000 more pictures.

Website: http://www.explorerockies.com/banff-gondola/hours-rates.aspx

Best for: All ages.  It's a nice walk, or you can just sit with a cup of tea in the main lodge.  You are at altitude, though not to a degree where it would be troublesome.  Just noticable.

Added benefit: This is located right next door to the Banff Hot Springs.  The parking lots literally back onto each other.  So pack your bathing suit, go for a hike, and when you're either frozen or energized, go relax for a bit in the pools.

Pictures: Just a few to give you a taste of why you should book your flight right now and get away from those evil coworkers who seem to think they know everything but in fact help with nothing.

Gondola up the mountain.

View from the gondola.

The valley and Banff lie far below.  If you look closely, the Fairmont Hotel is the taller building.

The area at the top of the mountain offers a pleasant hike over wooden pathways.

Each turn promises white capped mountains, even in the summer.

And even in the height of summer, if the wind doesn't take your breath away the views will (but still, pack your mittens!).

Airport Experiences: YTZ (Billy Bishop Airport, Toronto)

Did you know Toronto has two airports?

Everyone knows YYZ (Pearson International Airport), that big one in the upper left corner that has the honor of hosting a slew of airlines while acting as Air Canada’s hub.  It has lovely glass walkways that seem to go on forever, questionable artwork that is likely more meant for entertainment than deep thought, and a slew of shops in which you can buy the usual overpriced but Canadianized snack food.  Familiar to Torontonians and foreigners alike, if you’ve flown through Toronto chances are you flew into YYZ.

My point? 

Not about YYZ, I assure you.  That would be like writing a commentary on Coke.  Drink it and make your own opinion.  Better yet, ask your neighbor as for sure they will have an opinion you can steal, origionalize, and claim as your own.  Instead, let’s talk about YTZ, that other Toronto airport.

Billy Bishop Airport (YTZ), often referred to as the “island airport” by Torontonians, is a small airport located on an island directly across from Toronto’s downtown core.   It caters mostly to business passengers traveling to destinations within a few hours of Toronto.  Flights are on prop planes as the runway is too short to land jets on, however the popularity of the airport has recently brought the viability of jet travel from YTZ into question.

 For those not in-the-know:

FlyerTalk: http://www.flyertalk.com/the-tarmac/porter-airlines-wants-to-take-on-air-canada.html

Globe & Mail: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/toronto/mayor-ford-asks-for-report-on-billy-bishop-expansion/article11516617/

Assuming we’re all educated now, for kicks let’s look at the airport itself and the implications of an expansion.

YTZ is easy enough to get to, being located in the downtown core, however it isn’t directly connected to the mainland.  As a result, it has the dubious honour of offering one of the shortest ferry rides in the world.  Having ridden that ferry more times than I would like, I’ll say that in Lena-years this ferry takes ages.

Passengers arrive at the ferry terminal where they cue on the upper floor for up to fifteen minutes (they promise, but I’ve absolutely waited longer than this) before being loaded and carried the short distance to the terminal (schedule: http://www.torontoport.com/Airport/Getting-To/Ferry-Schedule.aspx).  Luckily, there are check-in facilities at the ferry terminal, including both machines and agents, so those rushing for the flight and just missing the ferry aren’t completely without hope (I wouldn’t recommend showing up less than 1 hour before your flight unless you are drunk already, have a bottle with you that you plan to polish off before security, or enjoy the wild ride that is the potential anxiety of missing your flight).

Once across, passengers have a quick walk to the main check-in counter, which I have never once seen even moderately busy.

 

From there, passengers usually have a short but very exacting security check before proceeding to the departures lounge.  Of note for frequent flyers, there is no priority line (gasp!).

The lounge is downstairs, offering a setup reminiscent of cubicles in an office with chairs set to face each other in small sets of four.  WiFi is free, and if you need computer access there is a somewhat austere business centre in the back.  Also on offer are drinks (water, pop, juice, hot chocolate, coffee, espresso maker, tea) and snacks (mixed nuts and cookies).  There is no charge for these, and there is also a small shop attached that offers more substantial options for purchase.  Another note for frequent flyers, all passengers have access to this area and there is long Star Alliance lounge (Elitist snob nightmare!  Gasp #2!).

 

 

 

The airport offers only a handful of gates, and the walk is delightfully short to any plane you might be catching (girls, keep your heels on, this is a non-running shoe necessary airport).  When the flight is called, passengers file through glass sliding doors and down a brief hallway to one of several desks where tickets and IDs are checked.  Boarding proceeds from there.

 

So overall, what are the key pros and cons?

Pros:

1.       Downtown location: I’m not convinced that this airport is a faster experience than YYZ, but it does have a phenomenal location.  Transit from the terminal into the downtown core has gotten better over the last several years, and with a shuttle service to Union Station and a timetable for the ferry I would expect the experience to continue to improve.  On top of that, the landing is hard to beat, coming in parallel to the Toronto skyline.  Honestly, I’ve landed in some phenomenal locations globally and never gotten the city skyline these flights offer.

2.       The airport authority has promised travelers a walkway “coming soon”, placating complaints related to the inefficient ferry they currently use.

3.       Departure lounge: Free food, newspapers and a business area with about two dozen computers.  Wifi is easy to access and doesn’t require a password, making this a great offering for those passengers who don’t typically have access to an airline lounge.

4.       Flights are rarely full.

Cons:

1.       Logistics: (1) The ferry: touted as one of the shortest ferry rides in the world, I’m quite certain I could swim across faster.  (2) Getting a taxi: a harrowing experience where you wait with the masses until someone shouts and waves at you to go to “that cab over there!”  (3) Security: For a primarily business-oriented airport where travelers know the procedures, could the agents be any slower?  (4) Pick-up: there is no area for stopping and no cellphone lot, so coordinating pick-up of a passenger is an unpleasant exercise in patience or non-verbal growling.

2.       No Maple Leaf Lounge: If you’re a frequent flyer, you may have gotten use to a little quiet place where you can have a lowball before or between flights.  The YTZ departure area is advertised as a lounge however it’s a far cry from your average Star Alliance offering.

3.       Routing: YTZ is small and caters to small planes.  As such, the route offerings are limited and the distance they travel often means that a connection is necessary.

In my experience, while YTZ is a great concept it has failed to deliver.  My primary complaint is related to the logistics of catching a flight and the ease of getting home when I land.  It’s poorly done and they are overburdened by the passengers they currently cater to.  I’m hard pressed to understand how they intend to efficiently and effectively bring it more flights and passengers.  An expansion is obviously worth considering, but first I would challenge them to work out the bugs in their current system. 

Judge for yourself, but for my part I’ll stick to Pearson.

Off the beaten track in… the Caribbean?

It was fall, and looking out the window I was sure I could see winter on the horizon.  I’m of the opinion that Canada should be abandoned during the winter, though obviously work makes that somewhat difficult.  I did have a three day weekend coming up though and decided to fly south.

Not wanting to just visit another resort, I instead aimed to see if it was possible to get off the beaten track in the Caribbean.  Essentially, I wanted to find the island tourism had somehow missed, and after some hunting I found Dominica.

Dominica is a small island nation located in the West Indies.  It has a population of approximately 70,000, and the dubious honour of being named by Christopher Columbus after the day of the week on which he first saw it (Sunday, in Latin Dominica).

Touted as an island paradise, it was covered in lush greenery and boasted more than a few dirt roads.  As my Liat flight cruised low over hills unspoilt by civilization, I knew I had found somewhere special.

 There are several barriers which have helped Dominica remain relatively unknown to most Caribbean vacationers.  Amongst them: 

·         It isn’t built up like many Caribbean islands and won’t offer a luxurious escape.

·         The runways are short so larger jets can’t land here.  Liat operates regular flights, however the added trouble and travel time act as a deterrent for many travellers seeking a quick and relaxing escape.

·         The beaches are black sand which tends to be less of a draw than the fine white sands of neighboring islands. 

None of these points are drawbacks from my perspective. 

Renting a car and driver for the day was easy and inexpensive (about $40USD for 5 hours).  We roamed over hills covered with palm tree and banana plantations, through small villages where children played in the streets, and past unoccupied beaches where the only sounds were the wind and the dull roar of white-capped waves crashing into the sand.  Everywhere I looked it was stunning. 

A highlight was a small rum bar we stopped at.  It was perched at the edge of the beach and made up of a single room filled with four rickety wooden stools.  I’m pretty sure it was still morning, and I’m pretty sure I was drinking moonshine, but it was some of the best rum I’d ever tasted.  The options were endless, with jar upon jar filled not just with rum but with spices and herbs.  I had one that was flavored with cinnamon, another with anise, and eyed a third that I was almost certain had marijuana leaves floating in it.  Sitting there drinking, I chatted with a man who was out to take the Guinness World Record for longest beard.  He said he had a few more years to go, but already his beard was wrapped several times around his neck.

My last post was a link to the 25 least visited countries in the world.  Dominica is number 25, receiving only 73,000 tourists a year.  It’s stunning to think just how close it is to North America, and yet how unspoilt it remains by development.  Having been there, it’s easy to feel like you’re one of the few rather than one of the many.  That impression adds to the charm, and while I’d recommend a visit, I hope too that this little corner of the world remains forgotten for a while longer.

Papers, please?

I was longing for a hot shower and a good dose of greasy Canadian take-out as I walked the long but familiar hallways of Toronto’s Pearson International Airport. Cliché, I know, but I was glad to be home. The last week had been an epic adventure, but the whirlwind pace and long transit was catching up fast. Though I can truly say I love travelling the remote wilds of Africa, the comforts of home had acquired a certain shine.  My friend Mo, just then trailed at my heels, appeared to silently agree.

We hit customs with the rest of the plane, turning down the resident’s line and patiently waiting our turn.  We bantered back and forth wearily, mostly about what our dinner options were.  It was trivial, but it kept the wait from becoming a torturous exercise in patience. 

“Let’s go up together,” I said as we neared the front.  “If they pull us over, it will be because we were in the middle of war-torn Africa.  It would be a hassle if one of us gets pulled and not the other.”

He shrugged, looking like he couldn't care less about anything that didn’t involve a bed. I knew he normally would have tried to get a smile out of the customs officers, perhaps even a laugh, but the long flight and the stomach bug he had picked up had knocked the oomph out of him. I took his passport and customs card, going up to the counter when it came free. 

Though I was trying to hide it, I was exhausted as well.  Nonetheless, I plastered a smile on my face as I slide our collection of passports and paperwork onto the desktop.

“Hello.”

“One passport and one form per agent,” the customs officer said coldly, hardly glancing up.

Rude asshole. I blinked, paused, then licked my lips to keep from growling what I thought of him. I reached out to remove Mo’s paperwork, but just as I was about to lay hands on it the officer yanked it towards himself, huffing.

“I’ll make an exception.  Just. This. Once."  It sounded like a movie line delivered by a B grade actor.  I even imagined I could see the agent's condescension encased around him like a second Perspex shield.

I felt Mo stiffen behind me, standing taller and more alert.  He wouldn’t interrupt, but he knew the opening of a verbal sparring match when he heard one. 

I took a deep breath, firmly reminding myself not to react.  Customs guards have too much power.  I’ve seen them use it arbitrarily far too often.  In the past I’ve been kept waiting just long enough to miss my flight, have watched a grown man bring a lone teenage girl to tears because her grandmother wasn’t picking up the phone, and looked the other way when a wheelchair-bound woman was denied entry because her visa had a crease in the corner.

My smile faded as I waited for his questions.

“Where are you coming from?”

I might have said London at this point.  We had transited there overnight and before that we’d been in Cairo for twelve hours.  That would have been easy though. The agent was being a jerk and I was itching to challenge him on it.

“Eritrea,” I answered.

The officer sighed, his eyes shifting slowly from his computer screen to my face.  “Not the city, the country,” he said slowly, as though I was ignorant not only of his question but of the whole re-entry process.

I wasn’t ignorant, but I was stunned.  You would think a job requirement of a customs guard would be to know the names of each of the countries around the world.  Obviously not.

“Eritrea,” I repeated flatly.  

He scowled, deciding finally to give me his undivided attention.

I considered snidely educating him on behalf of my beautiful and fascinating Eritrea. 

“It’s a small country on the horn of Africa, across from Yemen and bordering Djibouti, Sudan and Ethiopia,  at war with each of those three countries, by the way.  The capital is Asmara, and it has some of the best espresso on the continent thanks to once having been an Italian colony.  It’s one of the 197 countries recognized by the United Nations, and as a Canadian customs guard I would think you’d know that.”

As satisfying as it would have been to spit that out, teaching geography isn’t my job and I wasn't looking for an appointment with the back room.

“It’s a small country in Africa,” I said, mimicking a shade of the condescending tone he had used with me. I didn’t break eye contact with him and waited for whatever came next.

“The purpose of your trip?” 

“Vacation,” I said shortly.  I was enjoying my one word answers.  Ask me something hard, asshole.

Like a chess player realizing they cannot possibly win, he broke eye contact.  I was satisfied to see him looking somewhat chastened. 

I watched critically as he stamped our paperwork and handed it to me.  

He didn’t welcome us back to Canada, nor did he meet my gaze again. 

Canadian customs isn’t all bad.  I’ve had some fantastic experiences and spoken with some really fascinating officers, but that isn't the norm.  Is it unreasonable to expect a smile, a touch of courtesy, and a bit of knowledge about places beyond our own borders?  Customs officers are our first point of contact for foreigners who have often traveled immense distances and spent thousands of dollars to see a country I’m proud of.  I would hope that we would make an effort to make those first moments after a long, tiring journey, good ones. 

But more than that, I would really like to feel I’m welcome when I’m walking back across my own doormat.