Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

I am, of course, referring to the movie of the same name. I could never fully enjoyed the humour because far too many of the “complications” in the film have actually happened to me over the years. My latest trip looked like it was shaping up to be one of those trips.

It started as a simple enough multi-destination trip. Ottawa, Washington, Chicago, and then back to Ottawa. Until the Chicago meeting was cancelled, and I was sent to a meeting in Montreal instead. With the revised itinerary, the final leg of the trip, from Montreal to Ottawa was, you guessed it, by train. And there were many other disturbing omens. Taxis that never showed up – ever. A fire that brought traffic in Washington to a standstill, just as I was about to head to the airport. But there were other “problems” that actually worked out for the best. For example, my flight from Chicago to Ottawa was cancelled due to massive thunder storms, but of course I was in Montreal, not Chicago, so I didn’t mind.

But the really memorable aspect of the trip was the meeting room, which was actually a private library. The building, and especially the library, looked like something straight out of Hogwarts. I have attended far too many meetings over the years, but I have never seen anything quite like this.

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And that is the thing about business travel. You navigate an obstacle course of minor frustrations day in and day out, but every once in a while you stumble across a hidden gem that makes it all worthwhile.

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Road Trip 2014

Over the last few years I’ve started a tradition of taking a “themed” summer road trip. Two years ago it was ghost towns. Last year it was craft breweries. This year things have taken a different direction – we are visiting quilting stores.

See if you can figure out which trips were taken with my sons and which one with my wife…

As usual, I’m exaggerating, but (again, as usual) not by much. Fortunately we are also including a few winery tours on the agenda. So far today it’s a tie, with 3 stops in each category. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I do know what tonight will bring. Evenings are meant for follow-up tastings of the day’s wines.

Wine tasting is a bit of a tricky theme for a road trip. The problem is the wine; as we all know wine and driving do not go together. So I’m forced to sip … and then spit. It’s not nearly as unpleasant as it sounds. In fact, I think you can actually taste the wine better that way. After a dozen wines, there is absolutely no doubt you can taste more when you spit. But it is also frustrating, because I really do enjoy wine. Fortunately, in the evening you can sample the wines bought during the day. Maybe I’ll provide an update later this evening.

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Boston At Last

While standing at the tasting bar on the Shipyard Brewery tour, I mentioned that the thought of driving into Boston, especially with our out of date GPS maps, rather terrified me. The couple next to us laughed and said that driving in Boston terrified them too – and they lived there. This was not what I needed to hear.

I was thinking about that comment as we headed south on yet another perfect day for a convertible. It was a relatively short drive, so we decided to take the scenic route. Our ninety minute drive took closer to three hours, but along the way we had charming views of the Maine, New Hampshire and Massachusetts countryside. It soon became clear that we were not the first people to follow that route. The road was lined with an endless stream of hotels, motels, inns, cabins, camp grounds, B&Bs, and other forms of accommodation. I’m confident that tourism figures prominently in the local economy.

Our first stop for the day was Salem. Ian had recently discovered that one of our ancestors (technically, one of his) played a prominent role in the Salem witch trials. Not my side of the family thank heavens, but still worth a stop. It’s difficult to get your head around the hysteria that would lead to over 200 people being accused of witchcraft, and over 20 being executed for it. It is equally difficult to reconcile Salem’s history with the pretty little town that it has become. But we did our best to balance respect those falsely accused in the past, with sympathy for those trying to make a living today. It’s definitely a balancing act.

By the time we finished touring Salem it was getting late, and we psyched ourselves for the drive into Boston. The question was which route to take? The turnpike would mean braving Boston’s infamous network of freeways and tunnels from the “big dig”. In theory it would be faster, but in practice, who knows. With the ongoing construction, a lot had changed since the last time I’d updated my GPS maps. On the other hand, avoiding the motorways would mean enduring Boston’s narrow streets, and heavy traffic. It was a tough call, but in the end we opted to avoid the freeways. If I’m being completely honest, I should say that we opted to try to avoid the freeways. But of course as soon as we were getting close to Boston, we took a wrong turn, and ended up on the freeway. At that point all bets were off. We ended up driving past Logan airport, taking the tunnel into Boston, and driving on a downtown freeway before finding an exit that took us into the middle of the financial district at the height of rush hour. Let’s just say it was interesting, though perhaps not the optimum route into Boston – unless of course you were looking for an interesting story. I’m pleased to report that we made it to the hotel in one piece, though Ian did suggest he might need a change of clothes. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the driving wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d feared.

A long walk through Boston Common then back along the Charles brought us to the final leg of our tour – dinner and more beer tasting. Over dinner we completed the tally of the different beers we had tasted on the trip, and realized we were still a few short – of the answer to life, the universe and everything. So we did what any not-so-sensible people would do. We asked the waitress if she could recommend a bar to complete the tour. Preferably someplace with an interesting selection of local micro brews. We were not disappointed.

Burkowski’s is the kind of hole-in-the wall bar that I love to stumble upon when I travel. It didn’t look like much, and was only half full when we arrived about 10:00 PM. But by the time we left at 11:30, it was overflowing – on a Tuesday night, no less. Best of all, it had a rotating list of 20 very interesting local micro brews on tap. I finished the evening with a cask conditioned Russian Imperial Stout, that was like dessert in a glass. Ian had his favorite, a Sam Adams Pumpkin ale. As we savored our last pint, we declared the great 2013 craft beer tour an unconditional success, after having tasted a total of 42 different beers.

Postscript:

The next morning it was time to head for home, and back to reality. Virtually the entire trip had been on minor roads, but no more. It took us all of three blocks to reach the on ramp for the Massachusetts Turnpike. From there, it was all freeway until we were five minutes from home. In some ways it was a fitting transition back to the rat race. Until next year…

 

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Portland

I have a weakness for beer, especially interesting beer. This makes Portland a very dangerous place. It appears that Ian has the same problem. Genetics will do that to you.

When we checked in last night, we asked for restaurant recommendations. They suggested the Sebago microbrewery, a short ten minute walk from the hotel. Or at least it would be a ten minute walk if you could get there from here. Unfortunately sidewalks and crosswalks are in short supply in this suburb of Portland, and the thought of walking along the freeway held little appeal. We took the 2-minute-drive instead. But it was worth it. Their seasonal IPA, “Hop Swap”, easily makes my short list for the best IPA ever.  The bad news is that it’s only available in the brewpub, so there is no way to add it to the growing list of beers we plan to bring home. Major hardship.

Our hotel is technically outside of Portland, but it’s only a short drive away. I already mentioned that Portland is a very dangerous place for me, so that’s exactly where we headed this morning. We arrived at the Shipyard Brewing Company just in time for the noon brewery tour, complete with free tastings. (Did I mention that Portland is a very dangerous place for me?) It was a tough call, but sanity prevailed, and we decided it was a little too early to start sampling beer. We walked down to the waterfront instead, but we still found ourselves back at Shipyard for the 1:00 PM tour. A dozen samples later we stumbled – ummm wandered – out to get lunch. Amazingly, we found a lovely little brewpub for lunch … and another beer.

By this time we’d definitely had enough, or too much, depending on your perspective, and we put a stop to drinking for the afternoon. It was time for sightseeing, so we wandered around downtown Portland for a few hours before heading back to Shipyard to stock up on interesting beer to bring home. It was very difficult to show restraint, so we didn’t even try.

And then, for dinner we found a bar with 72 craft beer on tap. (I’m sure I’ve already mentioned the danger factor in Portland…) The food was pretty decent, but I have to admit the beer menu was the main attraction. I ordered one of the two cask conditioned ales listed, and was lucky enough to choose the right one. It was out of stock, so the server brought me a pint of the other one – for free. Sometimes you get an offer you can’t refuse.

We slowly worked our way through as much of the beer list as we could manage, and then caught a taxi back to our hotel. The theme for this trip is “craft beer”, and we definitely managed to pull our weight today. Ian sampled 22 different beers, plus one cider, and I wasn’t all that far behind.

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Serendipity

Day three began with a morning run going nowhere in particular, but taking us past a school play structure that looked like something out of a fairy tale. Log forts, turrets, spiral slides, and all manner of things that would never be allowed in any “sensible” playground. It was refreshing to see that kids can still be kids when the emphasis is on having fun, rather than an obsessive concern with safety. It inspired us to live a little dangerously, and ditch the GPS. Well, not quite ditch it, but at least turn off the sound and largely ignore it. We decided to go retro, and buy a map. You know, a real paper map, and use that for navigation. It helped us get off the beaten path and drive through the Maine countryside, where we found a number of villages that figure in Stephen King novels. You see, Ian is a big fan of Stephen King.

We had already decided to stop in Bangor for lunch, just to get a feel for the place. Good choice. It is a small town, and on this Sunday afternoon, almost everything was closed, except for the pub that turned out to also be the best restaurant in town. Based on the burgers we had, I believe it. And of course, interesting beer was also involved, though I unfortunately had to limit myself to a half, since I was driving. We had lunch in Bangor because of the Stephen King association, but we weren’t about to do any more than that. Or so we thought.

The drive from New Brunswick to Bangor goes through some very isolated countryside, and along the way I suddenly realized that I’d forgotten to fill up with gas. We had enough to get to Bangor, but that was about it. This led to some fairly tense moments as we approached Bangor. We stopped at four gas stations, and still ended up with less than a full tank. The wrong type of fuel, too busy, pumps that weren’t working properly; everything seemed to conspire against us. So after lunch we made one final stop to see if we could finally fill up the car and buy a map. Success.

The clerk was friendly, and while filling the car, he asked about our trip. I mentioned that we had stopped in Bangor because Ian is a Stephen King fan, and he asked if we had seen the house. Turns out it was three houses down the street. And that is how our journey through five gas stations and lunch at the best pub/restaurant in Bangor led to us driving past Stephen King’s house.

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Trial By GPS

The day began with a problem. Fortunately it was not my problem to fix. I hadn’t been certain of this at check-in when the not-so-friendly night manager had insisted I didn’t qualify for the “friends-and-family” rate shown on my reservation. The best rate I was eligible for, he curtly informed me, was “nearly-friends-and-family”, at about twice the price. But to get even that, I would need a different form, otherwise I would have to pay the even more expensive list price. It was late, I was tired, and it could be sorted in the morning. As I headed for my room, I asked if I could have my discount form back.

He looked taken aback. Before handing it to me, he scrawled across the form “Not Valid, Not Eligible for Rate”. He then stated, in no uncertain terms, that if the form was altered or marked up in any way, it was completely invalid. I took the form, and headed to my room, where I carefully read the fine print on my reservation, and on the discount form. It was pretty clear that I was in fact eligible for the rate. But this was not the time to resolve this problem. I put everything away, and opened the first beer on our Craft Beer Tour – Mad Tom IPA.

In the morning, at check-out, I showed the desk clerk my reservation, and my discount form, pointing out that they matched exactly. I said I was confused, and asked if she could explain the problem. She looked carefully, and then agreed. It took some time, requiring a call to her manager, a system override, credit card refunds, and more paper for the printer, but in the end it was all sorted. I received the original “friends and family” rate, in spite of everything I had been told the night before. While I was waiting, I entered the GPS coordinates for the next leg of our trip, to St. Andrews New Brunswick.

On our way into Montreal, the GPS had not been entirely helpful. We eventually arrived at the hotel, but this was mostly because we could actually see it, not because the GPS was directing us to it. This may have been because my GPS maps are about five years old, or it may have been because of the maze of construction and detours. But as our journey to St Andrews continued, it became increasingly obvious that it was time to update my GPS. Missing bits of road, strange detours, and unhelpful street names all reinforced the message. And then, entirely unexpectedly, we arrived at the US border. When the customs agent asked why we were here, all we could say was “we’re going to New Brunswick, and our GPS decided to bring us this way”,

Customs was a breeze. Apparently we were not the first to arrive at the border because of our GPS. But then things got strange. We passed a slightly deranged man walking along the highway, shirtless, carrying a rake. When he began raking the highway, we started worrying. It looked like the opening sequence of a really bad horror movie. Next, we saw a sign for “bridge repair ahead”, which brought back memories of Beetlejuice. About this time, we began to suspect that our GPS was out to get us.

Fortunately the feeling was short lived. We soon found ourselves driving along the most amazing, scenic, winding road through a landscape of rivers, forests and hills. The only thing missing was other cars, but that was not a problem. The BMW is meant to be driven, and these roads were meant for driving. It was divine.

We arrived in St. Andrews later than we had intended, but our room was waiting for us with a lovely view over the Bay of Fundy. And after a short walk down the street, we found ourselves on the patio, with the smell of the salty sea air, and a Picaroons Best Bitter to finish the day. The food was pretty decent too. Our Craft Beer Tour was underway in style.

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Business Travel 101

Over the years I’ve done a fair bit of business travel. Some people think I have actually traveled a lot. Not true. I’ve met people who routinely spend over 200 nights a year in hotels. They travel a lot. That isn’t me. I travel a fair bit. Or I used to anyway. Now I hardly travel at all. In the last year I’ve been to Jordan twice, San Francisco, Las Vegas, and a few times to Washington D.C., and that’s it. Hardly anything at all.

When I used to travel a fair bit, I had a system all worked out. I kept a special travel case all packed with a tooth brush, razor, power adapters, fingernail clippers and such; the really important stuff. This was just for travel, and heaven help the person who borrowed something and didn’t put it back. I kept a special voodoo doll to deal with offenders. At least until security stopped letting people board planes carrying pins. My system made packing much easier. I didn’t need to worry about all those little details – I knew where things were if I needed them. And I traveled enough to keep everything current. But lately I’ve been getting out of practice. I’ve even started raiding my own travel stash. So packing for trips is a lot more stressful than it used to be.

All of which brings me to my latest trip. I was driving to the airport, lamenting my lost packing skills. I was running late, a consequence of too much time spent packing. Not “we have a problem” late, but getting close. And then, when I handed my passport to the agent, she muttered “we have a problem…”. These are not words I like to hear. Ever. But over the years I’ve learned a few important rules about travel. The most important one is:

1. When there is a problem, the first thing to ask yourself is “whose problem is this?” If it isn’t your problem, don’t worry about it. Leave it to the experts.

I was on time (just), I had my boarding pass, and I was at the correct airport. These are all mistakes I have learned, from painful experience, that it is best to avoid. I offered a hesitant “yes?” A moment of silence, clicking keys, and then “we’re overbooked…”.

At this point, some travelers get upset. I’ve never understood this. Like being rude to the person holding your fate in their hands is really going to help? Which brings us to the second rule.

2.   Check your attitude along with the rest of the baggage you won’t need until your final destination. But be sure to keep your sense of humor in carry on, or better yet, in your shirt pocket. It will come in handy.

I was going to Washington D.C., but I was flying into BWI – Baltimore Washington International. It isn’t the most convenient Washington airport. In fact, it’s probably the least convenient. But it is the cheapest. Fortunately I realized the agent was ruling out  flights to the other, more convenient, Washington airports. She looked relieved when I offered to “accept” flights to Washington National airport. I didn’t mention that I actually preferred it. But then she hit another “snag”. That flight didn’t leave for another seven hours, and she didn’t want me hanging around the airport all day. I smiled, and assured her it would be just fine. And that’s how I found myself headed back home on a beautiful sunny August morning, where I spent most of the day working. Late that afternoon I returned to the airport to catch the flight I’d wanted to take all along. You see, I’d actually tried to book the direct flight into National in the first place, but it was three times the price. I had reluctantly booked the flight to BWI instead, in spite of a five hour layover in Philadelphia.

But wait, it gets better. The White House is on the flight path into Washington National, so when the wind is from the south, planes are forced to approach from the west, executing a sharp right turn just before landing. I’ve always thought this offers the absolutely best views of Washington, but only if you have a window seat on the left side of the plane. Guess where I was seated.

At the end of the day, my brush with an overbooked flight gave me the direct flight I wanted, but couldn’t afford, an extra day at home, and a perfect view of Washington as we landed. The only sacrifice was missing a five hour layover in Philadelphia airport. So next time you travel, remember to ask yourself “whose problem is this?”

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Sand In My Shoes

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Sand in my shoes. It was all I had to remind me of an amazing day spent in Wadi Rum. Except for a few hundred pictures, that is.

I’ll admit that when I decided to visit Jordan, I wasn’t convinced Wadi Rum was worth including on the itinerary. I’d never heard of it, and it really didn’t sound all that interesting anyway. The dictionary defines a wadi as “the channel of a watercourse that is dry except during periods of rainfall”. Interesting? Not really. Especially when compared with places like Petra and Jerash.

It’s rather humbling to discover just how wrong you can be.

There are so many amazing things to see in Wadi Rum that you could never cover them all in a single blog post. So I’m not even going to try. Instead, I’ll show you one of my favorites – a crescent moon rising over red sandstone cliffs.

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I’ve shown this photo to many people. Although it is impressive, there is no sense of scale. On the other hand, the next picture gives you a sense of just how massive the cliffs really are.

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It has been difficult to find time to blog over the past month or so. Summer is a time when the real world overshadows the Internet. I think of that as a good thing. But as the days grow shorter, I find my thoughts drawn to past, and future, trips. I’ll try to find time to write about those in the days ahead.

 

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Weekly Photo Challenge: The Golden Hour

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It might be called the golden hour everywhere, but the amount of “gold” can vary pretty widely. This photo was taken in Canada, while the next one was taken in Jordan. I have to say I prefer the Jordan sunsets, but perhaps that is just because they somehow seem more exotic to me.

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Contrast

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