Continued from...
Part 1 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2017/02/my-journey-to-scotlands-cities.html
Part 2 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2017/03/next-stop-edinburgh-scotland.html
Part 3 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2017/03/72-hours-in-city-of-edinburgh.html
Part 4 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2017/03/a-real-introduction-to-history-and.html
Part 5 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2017/03/the-haunted-graveyards-and-underground.html
Part 6 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2017/04/a-tour-of-edinburgh-castle-and-solo.html
Part 7 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2017/04/farewell-edinburgh-hello-highlands.html
Part 8 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2016/11/making-my-way-to-lovely-isle-of-skye.html
Part 9 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2017/05/so-long-for-now-beautiful-isle-and-onto.html
Part 10 - http://anotherdayforgrace.blogspot.ca/2017/06/lessons-in-scottish-history-and.html
My last morning in Scotland was hectic despite the fact that, thankfully, the hotel fire alarm did not go off during the night. I quickly showered and was disappointed to discover another issue with the room; a shower door that only closes half way and therefore results in the entire bathroom being flooded. I had to pass it off as not my concern as I was in a rush to catch my plane. Besides, there were so many issues with the hotel room that I just couldn't be bothered to deal with the front desk anymore by that point.
I ate a quick breakfast
before checking out and made the five-minute walk to the airport.
How on earth a five-minute walk turns out to be actually twenty is
beyond me. There I was walking while half asleep, cold and carrying all my
luggage after being told the hotel was a five-minute walk from the
airport. That's quite the exaggeration. In case you're wondering, I gave this
hotel one star on Trip Advisor and I don't even think it deserved that
for the inconveniences I endured. I wish I could say my misfortunes that morning ended there but sadly, things only got worse.
I checked in for my flight and made it through security with more than enough time to find somewhere to relax and have a coffee. I went to my gate and checked my flight status, found a Starbucks that wasn't too crowded and, with my hazelnut latte in hand, took a seat in the corner. I was about half way through my latte when I noticed that my shopping bags with the scarves I had bought for my sisters and my coat were nowhere to be found. Thinking I might have left them near the counter when I was ordering my coffee, I asked the barista if she had found anything but she hadn't. I raced through the airport backtracking ever step I took since I arrived, asking anyone who would listen if they spotted the items anywhere. I spoke with a security guard, a woman working in the duty-free shop and even someone at the main security area. No one had found anything. By this time I was hysterical. The scarves were not cheap and I made a significant effort into finding just the right ones. The coat was one of my favorites and it too was not cheap.
I frantically wandered around in circles looking everywhere. I'm must have roused suspicion in some people as I was getting some strange looks. I was also worried that if someone found the bag unattended, I could be in some trouble. When I spotted two police officers chatting near an exit, I approached to let them know the situation but didn't make it to them because something on a nearby bench caught my eye. There, sitting in plain view surrounded by people waiting to board their plane was my untouched belongings. I bolted towards the items and grabbed them from the chair while loudly exclaiming "I must have left this here hours ago". The look on the faces of everyone in the vicinity said it all; who is this crazy woman grabbing unattended belongings from an airport bench and why is she talking to herself. Thankfully, no one alerted security and I boarded my plane soon after without incident.
The winds must have been in our favor that morning because it took an hour and a half less time to fly from Glasgow than it did to fly in. The only eventful thing to happen on that flight was a flyover of of a large and snowy landmass. I looked out my window at a large white landmass and could see waterfalls and a river and mountains. My mind went blank as I tried to figure out what the landmass could be. Iceland? Newfoundland? Nope, Greenland! Now I guess I can say I've been to Greenland...or at least that I saw it from above.
I arrived in Halifax earlier than anticipated so I had to wait a few hours for my shuttle back to Cape Breton. Other than a bit of bad weather in the Scottish Highlands, one bad hotel and the fact that 9 days in Scotland wasn't long enough, the trip was perfect in every way and I hope to return to Scotland again in the near future.
Showing posts with label Halifax. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halifax. Show all posts
Monday, June 12, 2017
Thursday, February 2, 2017
My Journey to Scotland's Cities, Highlands and Islands
For some reason, this fall my family and friends were more accepting of my travel plans than they usually are. I didn't get any off-the-wall comments like "what are you thinking traveling somewhere so dangerous?" or "you are so crazy traveling all the way over there by yourself". I guess to them Scotland didn't seem like such a dangerous destination compared to, say, Mexico or Costa Rica. They encouraged me to go and said things like "you are so lucky" and "have a great time and take lots of pictures". I was quite surprised. Maybe they're finally getting used to my just-getup-and-go way of life. Maybe they're warming up to the idea of me traveling to far-flung destinations by myself after seeing me return unharmed time and time again.
I didn't have much time to plan this trip. My work schedule was up in the air, car repairs drained my bank account and I just couldn't decide where I wanted to go. I started researching potential destinations for my next trip months before. I would choose one, make plans and something would come up to derail them. All I knew for sure was I wanted to avoid Central America and the Caribbean only because I've already spent a lot of time in that region and wanted to try somewhere different. Greece was my first choice. When that didn't fall through, New Zealand was my chosen destination. That got derailed too. Finally after researching, planning and cancelling, I settled on my final destination; Scotland.
I've wanted to visit Scotland my whole life partially because I am half Scottish and partially because everyone I know who has been there tells me how beautiful it is. Since my finances were pretty much depleted from car repairs and surprise expenses, I decided to cash out my hard-earned AirMiles for this trip. If you didn't already know this (as I do now), AirMiles are pretty much useless for flights from Canada to Europe. I say this because I was able to search return flights to Glasgow and Edinburgh for under 600 bucks on various dates. When I searched with AirMiles, I was able to find return flights that would only use a quarter of my miles (about 3500 miles) and set my bank account back 850 bucks in taxes and fees. Yes, you read that right. It's cheaper to fly from Canada to Europe with cash only. Save your AirMiles for domestic flights which only carry fees of about 200 bucks or less. This was a disappointment to me because, as any of you AirMiles collectors know, these miles were set to expire on December 31st (that has since changed and now the miles carry no expiration date). I did have another option available to get an almost free flight to Europe and that was my WestJet Dollars. I used my expiring AirMiles to order a new tablet and a pair of snowshoes.
Everything came together perfectly at that last minute. Before I knew it, flights were booked, hotels were booked and a 5-day Highland and Isle of Sky tour was booked. I even managed to find some advanced tickets to enter Edinburgh Castle without having to wait in line. Early on the morning of September 15th, I hopped on a shuttle to Halifax Stanfield International Airport to catch my flight that evening. I was lucky to only have to share the shuttle with one other non-chatty, non-annoying traveler so I was able to catch up on sleep that I knew I wouldn't get on the plane.
I made good use of my 7-hour layover in Halifax by charging my gadgets in the onlyoutlet I could find, catching up on text messages, eating fast food, reading, rearranging my carry-on luggage to make it the right size to be taken on-board, booking my return shuttle, exchanging currency, chatting with the lady trying to get people to sign up for a credit card, twiddling my fingers and staring at the ceiling. When it was time to check in, I made a silent plea to the luggage gods asking them to please, please let me board the plane with two pieces of carry-on luggage and a purse. The ticket agent looked at my bags and asked if that was all I was taking on-board. I said yes, asked no other questions and pretended not to be surprised when she asked me to proceed to security. I quickly walked away before she could change her mind but couldn't help but smile at the realization that I had finally done it; I, a former over-packer, had managed to pack all of the necessities needed for a 9-day, transcontinental voyage in two carry-on bags.
Flying with one of my favourite airlines, WestJet, is always a pleasure. Besides a bit of turbulence, the flight was uneventful and I arrived in Glasgow almost an hour ahead of schedule. As I walked off the plane and headed straight for customs and immigration (which was a surprisingly quick process that day), I took great pleasure in not having to worry about waiting for checked baggage! With the last leg of my journey to the Old Country complete, I set out to start the next journey; an overland trip to the city of Edinburgh. This was a part of the trip I didn't plan ahead of time. All I knew was I had two options; a train or a bus. I didn't care which one I took as long as it was affordable, safe and quick. Welcome to Glasgow, Scotland. Next stop....the city of Edinburgh.
I didn't have much time to plan this trip. My work schedule was up in the air, car repairs drained my bank account and I just couldn't decide where I wanted to go. I started researching potential destinations for my next trip months before. I would choose one, make plans and something would come up to derail them. All I knew for sure was I wanted to avoid Central America and the Caribbean only because I've already spent a lot of time in that region and wanted to try somewhere different. Greece was my first choice. When that didn't fall through, New Zealand was my chosen destination. That got derailed too. Finally after researching, planning and cancelling, I settled on my final destination; Scotland.
 |
Everything came together perfectly at that last minute. Before I knew it, flights were booked, hotels were booked and a 5-day Highland and Isle of Sky tour was booked. I even managed to find some advanced tickets to enter Edinburgh Castle without having to wait in line. Early on the morning of September 15th, I hopped on a shuttle to Halifax Stanfield International Airport to catch my flight that evening. I was lucky to only have to share the shuttle with one other non-chatty, non-annoying traveler so I was able to catch up on sleep that I knew I wouldn't get on the plane.
I made good use of my 7-hour layover in Halifax by charging my gadgets in the onlyoutlet I could find, catching up on text messages, eating fast food, reading, rearranging my carry-on luggage to make it the right size to be taken on-board, booking my return shuttle, exchanging currency, chatting with the lady trying to get people to sign up for a credit card, twiddling my fingers and staring at the ceiling. When it was time to check in, I made a silent plea to the luggage gods asking them to please, please let me board the plane with two pieces of carry-on luggage and a purse. The ticket agent looked at my bags and asked if that was all I was taking on-board. I said yes, asked no other questions and pretended not to be surprised when she asked me to proceed to security. I quickly walked away before she could change her mind but couldn't help but smile at the realization that I had finally done it; I, a former over-packer, had managed to pack all of the necessities needed for a 9-day, transcontinental voyage in two carry-on bags.
Flying with one of my favourite airlines, WestJet, is always a pleasure. Besides a bit of turbulence, the flight was uneventful and I arrived in Glasgow almost an hour ahead of schedule. As I walked off the plane and headed straight for customs and immigration (which was a surprisingly quick process that day), I took great pleasure in not having to worry about waiting for checked baggage! With the last leg of my journey to the Old Country complete, I set out to start the next journey; an overland trip to the city of Edinburgh. This was a part of the trip I didn't plan ahead of time. All I knew was I had two options; a train or a bus. I didn't care which one I took as long as it was affordable, safe and quick. Welcome to Glasgow, Scotland. Next stop....the city of Edinburgh.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Bridgetown, Barbados to Halifax, Nova Scotia - The Long Journey Home
I timed the shuttle to pick me up at Angler with enough time to get to the airport, check-in, go through security and have a minimal wait to board. But, of course, as often happens when dealing with air travel, it didn’t quite work out that way. At check-in, the agent advised me that my flight was several hours behind schedule. So I tried my best to make use of the extra time I had and found a little café where I bought a slice of pizza and a coffee.
I tried to kill some time by accessing the elusive airport WiFi which was still being quite elusive to me. Everyone around me seemed to be tinkering away on Facebook and checking emails but I was still unable to connect. I killed about an hour in the coffee shop…and killed the rest of the time browsing the duty-free shops. I found myself a couple of keychains, a nice beachbag for only ten dollars and a couple of pieces of stylish handmade beach jewelry. Sometimes I think this is why flights are delayed; people who would not normally shop in the airport resort to shopping in airports when they have nothing else to do while waiting for a delayed flight.
I wasn’t too upset by this surprise delay. After all, my trip home was to take more than 24 hours. 6.5-hour flight from Barbados to Toronto with a 10-hour layover at Pearson followed by another 2-hour flight to Halifax, a 3-hour wait there and a 5-hour shuttle drive to Cape Breton. An extra few hours wasn’t going to make much a difference.
It was close to ten o’clock when I arrived at Pearson International Airport in Toronto. Unfortunately, because my flight wasn’t departing until the next day, I had to retrieve my luggage and lug around with me all night and recheck it in the morning. I know that doesn’t really sound like a big deal but consider the fact that since waiting passengers are to keep their eyes on their luggage at all times (or risk having them confiscated by security) that means my luggage has to go everywhere with me. Everywhere. Have you ever tried maneuvering a suitcase around those small washroom stalls? Now that’s a challenge! Or how about trying to lug it through a narrow lineup to get your morning coffee at an airport café? At least as long as my luggage was with me, I knew it was safe…at least for the time being!
I was famished after that long flight so once I had my luggage in hand, I looked for something to eat. After spending 7 days on vacation, I was pretty near broke so I couldn’t really settle for more than a bagel and a cookie at Tim Horton’s. I skipped the coffee out of fear the caffeine would keep me awake and it was hard enough trying to get some rest in a busy airport.
I wandered around for a bit trying to kill some time and tire myself out (I am usually wound up after a long flight for some reason) before actively seeking out a somewhat quiet area to set up camp for the night. I found a decent spot in a corner near some windows. I unfolded my travel blanket and refolded it in two so that I was lying on one half of it and the rest was covering me. With myself, my travel pillow, my cell phone (for an alarm) and my wallet (to prevent being robbed while I slept) securely inside the blanket, I positioned myself facing my luggage which I had strategically placed with the zippers facing me. I always feel a little unsecure when sleeping in the main area of any airport. Inside a gate, everyone has already been through security but in the main area, anyone can walk in off the street and that’s a little unnerving especially in these tense times. It gives me a very vulnerable feeling.
Within seconds of my head hitting the pillow, the airport suddenly seemed louder. Vacuum cleaners were going, shops were closing, people were coming and going, a man sleeping a few feet away from me was snoring loudly and car doors were being slammed just outside that window. But amidst all that racket, I managed to pick out one sound that finally drowned out all the rest and that’s the sound that rocked me to sleep….almost quite literally. Someone was tuning a guitar. It sounded faint at first and than it got louder. I took my head out from the warmth and darkness of my blanket and looked around. Across the hall, seated in another waiting area was a young man strumming a guitar. I tried not to let him see me so he wouldn’t think he was being too loud and stop. I just lay my head back down on my pillow and listened and in the midst of all the hustle and bustle that is Pearson International Airport, I fell asleep to the beautiful sounds of a guitar being strummed.
I awoke a few hours later to my cell phone vibrating and proceeded to check-in for my flight. This time, my flight was on time and I made it to Halifax long before the next shuttle to Cape Breton. I grabbed a Starbucks latte and took a seat in the long corridor between the check-in area and baggage pickup and patiently waited for my ride. By the time the shuttle arrived, I was exhausted…and disappointed to see that there was quite the crowd already onboard. But I was lucky this time because there were no seats in the back so I got to sit in the front and much to the disappointment of my friendly and chatty driver who wanted to hear more about my trip down south, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until Antigonish. It wasn’t until we reached the Canso Causeway that that dreadful after-vacation feeling set in. Every time I make that drive from the Halifax Airport to Cape Breton, that same feeling hits me at that exact same place in the trip. The Causeway always signifies home even though my house is still another 2 hours away. That feeling I am talking about? The one where the realization hits that the vacation is over and it’s time to re-enter the real world. No more palm trees and sand. Just sub-zero temperatures and snow.
I tried to kill some time by accessing the elusive airport WiFi which was still being quite elusive to me. Everyone around me seemed to be tinkering away on Facebook and checking emails but I was still unable to connect. I killed about an hour in the coffee shop…and killed the rest of the time browsing the duty-free shops. I found myself a couple of keychains, a nice beachbag for only ten dollars and a couple of pieces of stylish handmade beach jewelry. Sometimes I think this is why flights are delayed; people who would not normally shop in the airport resort to shopping in airports when they have nothing else to do while waiting for a delayed flight.
I wasn’t too upset by this surprise delay. After all, my trip home was to take more than 24 hours. 6.5-hour flight from Barbados to Toronto with a 10-hour layover at Pearson followed by another 2-hour flight to Halifax, a 3-hour wait there and a 5-hour shuttle drive to Cape Breton. An extra few hours wasn’t going to make much a difference.
It was close to ten o’clock when I arrived at Pearson International Airport in Toronto. Unfortunately, because my flight wasn’t departing until the next day, I had to retrieve my luggage and lug around with me all night and recheck it in the morning. I know that doesn’t really sound like a big deal but consider the fact that since waiting passengers are to keep their eyes on their luggage at all times (or risk having them confiscated by security) that means my luggage has to go everywhere with me. Everywhere. Have you ever tried maneuvering a suitcase around those small washroom stalls? Now that’s a challenge! Or how about trying to lug it through a narrow lineup to get your morning coffee at an airport café? At least as long as my luggage was with me, I knew it was safe…at least for the time being!
I wandered around for a bit trying to kill some time and tire myself out (I am usually wound up after a long flight for some reason) before actively seeking out a somewhat quiet area to set up camp for the night. I found a decent spot in a corner near some windows. I unfolded my travel blanket and refolded it in two so that I was lying on one half of it and the rest was covering me. With myself, my travel pillow, my cell phone (for an alarm) and my wallet (to prevent being robbed while I slept) securely inside the blanket, I positioned myself facing my luggage which I had strategically placed with the zippers facing me. I always feel a little unsecure when sleeping in the main area of any airport. Inside a gate, everyone has already been through security but in the main area, anyone can walk in off the street and that’s a little unnerving especially in these tense times. It gives me a very vulnerable feeling.
Within seconds of my head hitting the pillow, the airport suddenly seemed louder. Vacuum cleaners were going, shops were closing, people were coming and going, a man sleeping a few feet away from me was snoring loudly and car doors were being slammed just outside that window. But amidst all that racket, I managed to pick out one sound that finally drowned out all the rest and that’s the sound that rocked me to sleep….almost quite literally. Someone was tuning a guitar. It sounded faint at first and than it got louder. I took my head out from the warmth and darkness of my blanket and looked around. Across the hall, seated in another waiting area was a young man strumming a guitar. I tried not to let him see me so he wouldn’t think he was being too loud and stop. I just lay my head back down on my pillow and listened and in the midst of all the hustle and bustle that is Pearson International Airport, I fell asleep to the beautiful sounds of a guitar being strummed.
I awoke a few hours later to my cell phone vibrating and proceeded to check-in for my flight. This time, my flight was on time and I made it to Halifax long before the next shuttle to Cape Breton. I grabbed a Starbucks latte and took a seat in the long corridor between the check-in area and baggage pickup and patiently waited for my ride. By the time the shuttle arrived, I was exhausted…and disappointed to see that there was quite the crowd already onboard. But I was lucky this time because there were no seats in the back so I got to sit in the front and much to the disappointment of my friendly and chatty driver who wanted to hear more about my trip down south, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until Antigonish. It wasn’t until we reached the Canso Causeway that that dreadful after-vacation feeling set in. Every time I make that drive from the Halifax Airport to Cape Breton, that same feeling hits me at that exact same place in the trip. The Causeway always signifies home even though my house is still another 2 hours away. That feeling I am talking about? The one where the realization hits that the vacation is over and it’s time to re-enter the real world. No more palm trees and sand. Just sub-zero temperatures and snow.
Monday, January 5, 2015
The First Leg of my Trip to Barbados - Getting there was just part of the Fun
I awoke on the morning of December 4th like I do any other morning. My alarm went off, I hit the snooze button several times before I rolled over and checked my phone for messages. The only thing different about this morning was the bombardment of messages that came through while I was sleeping. Messages from friends and family that went along the line of “you must be so excited” and “today is the day, have a fun week” and “you are so lucky, I wish I was going with you…have a great trip”. At least the messages about my upcoming trip to Barbados were more positive than the ones I received in the weeks leading up to my departure. “You are going alone? Are you crazy?” “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to travel with all the things going on in the world?” “One of these days, you are going to get mugged, raped, kidnapped or murdered!” These were (and usually are) the messages I received when I announced I would be doing yet another solo trip. Sometimes I can’t tell if people are genuinely afraid for my well-being or if they are just jealous that I am going without them…because lets face it, traveling is really not all that dangerous. Period. And anyway, I would rather die doing something I enjoy rather than say dying in a car accident while pulling onto the highway on my way to work….or god forbid, by falling in the shower.
I’d already finished packing a few days earlier and only had to tuck away a few final items into my carry on. I had a long layover in Halifax so I made sure to pack things I would need to make myself presentable for the second leg of the journey. Toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, dry shampoo. Airports are dirty. Even at times when I only spent a few hours in one, I’m left feeling like I hadn’t showered in days. The last thing I want to do is get on a plane and share a small enclosed space with several hundred other tired and cranky passengers while smelling and looking like I haven’t showered in days. That would surely piss off a lot of people.
To some people, my carry-on might have looked a little bulkier and felt a little heavier than it should have but I always come prepared. If you ever had an airline lose your luggage, you know the importance of always packing at least one outfit, a bathing suit if you’re going to a warm climate and any other items you cannot live without into a carry on. Who wants to land in the sunny, hot Caribbean wearing the heavy parka, snow boots and long johns they were wearing when they left Canada only to realize that their shorts, tanks and swimsuit didn’t make it?
I only had a few last-minute items to take care of when 4PM rolled around. I made a stairs out of small boxes beside the bed so my cat could climb up (he’s getting older and has been having trouble jumping onto the bed where he likes to curl up under the blankets), unplugged all my electronics, hid my valuables deep in a closet and placed my suitcase and carry-on by the door and waited for my drive. My next stop was the university where I caught the shuttle that took me on the first leg of my long journey – a five-hour drive to the Halifax airport.
The drive to Halifax is usually quite long and boring. Normally, when I board one of those shuttles, I climb into one of the seats in the very back and fall asleep if it’s not too crowded. When it’s crowded, I spend five hours squashed into a seat with half of my belongings on top of me while listening to several conversations going on at once. I usually don’t get much rest on those trips. I knew this trip would be different after I met the driver. He cheerfully introduced himself. “Hi there. I will be your driver. My name is Luigi, like in the Super Mario Brothers game”. Sometimes, shuttle drivers just do their job and get passengers to their destination safely. Other times, they do more. I instantly got the feeling that this ride wouldn’t be long and dragged out like many of the others. From the time we left the parking lot at the university, I couldn’t get the guy to shut up, not that that was a bad thing. Time goes by quickly and long rides are made memorable when there is good conversation. I’m not sure how we got on the topics we discussed but the conversation flowed non-stop from the weird weather we were having, to where I was going for vacation, to what our plans for the upcoming Christmas holidays were and onto an in-depth conversation about working Out West. I picked up some tips about getting jobs in the lucrative oil fields where so many other Cape Bretoners were already working. Things like what camps are hiring, which ones are laying people off, which ones treat their employees the best and which ones are best avoided. All this transpired before we even reached the next stop.
After that first stop in Sydney River, it was onto our next stop at the Newfoundland ferry terminal to pick up a few more passengers and onto another stop on the Northside to pick up another passenger. I hate crowded shuttles and was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable with the number of people that were beginning to pile into the van. With only a few seats left, we arrived at the North Sydney Mall to pick up our last passenger, a young woman who was headed to Halifax to meet a friend, spend the night and drive back to Cape Breton the very next day with her friend who didn’t want to drive by herself. Have you ever instantly clicked with someone you just met? It doesn’t happen often but, every once and a while, I will meet someone that I instantly feel comfortable around and can talk to them about anything. That’s what it was like between me and that last passenger we picked up. All the way to Halifax, we talked non-stop about our jobs, our hobbies, our pets and everything else under the sun and before I knew it, we pulled up to the main entrance of the airport. A drive that usually feels like ten hours felt like 2 hours and I felt kind of sad about having to leave the group.
Before I walked away from the shuttle and into Atlantic Canada’s busiest airport, Luigi passed along some information that would help make my overnight stay in the airport a little more comfortable. He informed me that guests of his shuttle service could avail of a comfortable lounge located in the hotel attached to the airport. All I had to do was go to the 3rd floor of the hotel, confidently walk into the lounge like I owned the place and take a seat in one of the comfortable chairs. He advised me that it might be a good idea to buy a drink or something to eat at some point during the night so staff would leave me alone
Before I made my way over to that lounge I ventured into the main area of the airport to check on the status of my 7AM flight. The airport was busy with flights simultaneously arriving and leaving. The noise level and bright lights seemed more annoying than usual as I just spent five hours in a dark, relatively quiet mini-van on a dark highway. I quickly verified my flight, which thankfully, was on time, and walked over to the hotel to find that lounge.
I knew I found the right place when I walked into a dimly-lit lounge complete with soft Jazz music playing in the background and comfortable chairs and couches. What I wasn’t prepared for was the young man sitting behind a desk greeting every person who came in and out of the lounge. I had to come up with something quickly so to not rouse any suspicion so I just said “I’m looking for a place to relax before my midnight boarding call” thinking his shift would probably end before that time anyway. “Feel free to sit anywhere you like. The bar is still open and there are snacks available for purchase on the other side” was all he said.
I sunk into a huge, comfortable chair but I wasn’t ready to doze off yet. I was still wound up from the drive and had some phone calls I had to make. I was right about that employee’s shift ending before midnight. At least I assume that’s what happened to him. One minute he was there and than I didn’t see him again for the rest of the night. That meant I could stay there and take a nap without anyone suspecting a thing. But just to be on the safe side, I bought something to eat before my eyes got too heavy. For the not-so-small price of $17.00, I got a cookie, a bottle of water and a child’s portion of microwaveable “specialty” macaroni and cheese. Typical airport fare and prices.
I finished my “meal” and once again sunk into that big comfy chair and nodded off with the help of soft ambient light and relaxing jazz music. I slept surprisingly well, waking only when my phone, which was tucked underneath my arm, vibrated to let me know it was time to head to the airline check-in counter. I am so glad I discovered that little secret lounge. Usually when I have to spend the night at the Halifax airport, I end up trying to sleep on a hard airport chair in the midst of all the sounds that airports make. I felt like a million bucks as I headed to the check-in counter after having one of my best airport overnights ever and it only cost me $17.00!
When it comes to airports and flying, I usually have bad luck. Delayed or cancelled flights, annoying seat mates, lost luggage and dealing with rude or just plain ignorant airport and airline employees are just some of the common things I come across when traveling anywhere that involves flying. This time, however, I happened upon a good luck streak. You know how most airlines have decided to charge for that first checked baggage? Well, when I checked in with WestJet and told the lady at the counter I had one bag to check, she looked up my flight and said my bag had already been paid for. I knew, 100% fact, that I did not pay for that bag but she still insisted on letting it go for free! Right off the bat, I saved 25 bucks! I didn’t choose my seat when I booked the flight and usually when I don’t choose my seat, they automatically put me in the aisle at the very back of the plane but this time, they placed me in a window seat near the front of the plane! I took my seat and watched as passenger after passenger took up seats all around me but no one took any of the two seats next to me. I ended up with an entire row to myself so I could stretch out and take up as much of the arm rests as I liked. No one falling asleep on the arm rest to prevent me from changing the station on the seat-back television and no one to crawl over to go to the bathroom. I never have luck that good when I’m flying.
The 1.5-hour flight to Toronto Pearson went as usual: Leave Halifax, land in Toronto, get off plane, run at top speed to terminal 3, board another plane. The final 6.5-hour flight to my final destination also went without incident. A little bit of turbulence, the discovery that WestJet no longer offers Bits and Bites(they offered pretzels instead and I don’t really like pretzels) and some trouble finding a pen with which to fill out the customs sheet they always pass out mid-flight to international destinations is all I have to report for that leg of my journey.
Before I knew it, the pilot announced our descent towards Bridgetown and that sparkling blue-green water the Caribbean is known for along with hundreds of sailboats sailing along the coast got closer and closer. I was itching to get off the plane after the long flight and was thankful to be seated so close to the exit…except, the flight crew decided that we would be exiting via the back door instead. And that folks, is when my luck started to go downhill.
I finally disembarked from the aircraft into the sun and heat of mid-day in Bridgetown, Barbados. There was no gate, we just walked off the plane, down a moveable stairway and right onto the open tarmac. I started to follow some people who were walking towards what I thought was the arrivals area when an airport employee started to wave at me. That is when I noticed another group of people heading in another direction towards a bus and another employee started waving at me to go that way. Tired and confused, I just stood there looking back and forth at these two people waving me to go in two different directions. Finally, another passenger on my flight informed me that we go to the waiting bus that takes us to the arrivals area. Who knew? Not I. Welcome to Central America. It seems I run into similar situations whenever I travel to this part of the world. Had something like this happened at Toronto’s Pearson International, with a disembarking passenger roaming aimlessly on the tarmac, security would have been on top of me. Trust me I know…if you’ve been following this blog for a while, you may have read about the “little” security issue I ran into at Pearson several years ago when I was returning from Mexico.
My bad luck didn’t stop there. I entered the non-air-conditioned immigration area of the airport only to be greeted by a huge lineup of passengers waiting to get through. So much for getting that “lucky” seat close to the front of the plane. I was literally at the very back of the line that ended up taking two hours to clear not including customs and baggage pick-up. I worried my shuttle driver would be looking for me so I turned on my cell-phone to access my email and see if she left me a message. I thought most airports had free Wi-fi but this elusive, free airport Wi-fi never seems to work for me and it didn’t on this occasion. I didn’t have an international data plan on my phone but figured a few seconds wouldn’t cost much. I logged on, quickly checked my email, found nothing from my driver and quickly turned off my data…and was greeted with a text message from my service provider stating that I had just been charged $25.00 for accessing data overseas. I saved $25.00 on baggage fees and ended up using it for outrageous data fees. So much for getting a little ahead.
An hour into that long wait, I was so hungry I ransacked my carry-on for any leftover snacks and found a half eaten bag of chips. The woman behind me was practically licking her lips as she watched me devour the chips and said “oh my, those look so good right now”. I just smiled awkwardly and slowly turned around avoiding anymore eye contact with her. I guess I could have shared. Is it wrong that I didn’t? Nah…two thoughts went through my head at that moment: 1) I don’t want some stranger’s germy hands in my chips and 2) I’m hungry and they're my chips – get your own chips! Ok so I was a little cranky and selfish by that time.
I finally cleared the necessary evils of international travel, exited the airport and looked for the area where cabs and “cabs” wait and harass travelers who don’t know any better with “hey miss, I give you best deal on cab ride anywhere in city” and “Where are you going miss….ah yes, I was sent to pick you up, come along” and the like. But I know better after almost being “kidnapped” by some timeshare salespeople pretending to be my ride at the airport in Cancun a few years earlier. I always do my research before I go anywhere now and learn what color cabs are the safest and most legit to take and to always get the names of shuttle drivers who are meeting me and never give out my intended destination or name to anyone even if they are driving a legit-looking cab. It wasn’t hard to find my driver, Sandra, as she was standing out front holding a sign with my first and last name on it. We walked to her van and I made my first mistake in this new and unfamiliar country; I went around to the right side of the vehicle and got in the passenger side…except it wasn’t the passenger side. I forgot that Bajans drive on the left and I found myself sitting behind the wheel with my driver asking “are you driving” and with an embarrassed chuckle, I got out and walked around to the actual passenger side.
Traffic was heavy by that time so we took a short cut. Sandra drove quite fast but made her way around the many roundabouts and lane changes like a pro. I always love the rides from the airport to the hotel. These rides are my first taste of a new place and I got to see quite a bit of the island on that drive to Angler Apartments in Derricks on the west coast of the island.
I’d already finished packing a few days earlier and only had to tuck away a few final items into my carry on. I had a long layover in Halifax so I made sure to pack things I would need to make myself presentable for the second leg of the journey. Toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, dry shampoo. Airports are dirty. Even at times when I only spent a few hours in one, I’m left feeling like I hadn’t showered in days. The last thing I want to do is get on a plane and share a small enclosed space with several hundred other tired and cranky passengers while smelling and looking like I haven’t showered in days. That would surely piss off a lot of people.
I only had a few last-minute items to take care of when 4PM rolled around. I made a stairs out of small boxes beside the bed so my cat could climb up (he’s getting older and has been having trouble jumping onto the bed where he likes to curl up under the blankets), unplugged all my electronics, hid my valuables deep in a closet and placed my suitcase and carry-on by the door and waited for my drive. My next stop was the university where I caught the shuttle that took me on the first leg of my long journey – a five-hour drive to the Halifax airport.
The drive to Halifax is usually quite long and boring. Normally, when I board one of those shuttles, I climb into one of the seats in the very back and fall asleep if it’s not too crowded. When it’s crowded, I spend five hours squashed into a seat with half of my belongings on top of me while listening to several conversations going on at once. I usually don’t get much rest on those trips. I knew this trip would be different after I met the driver. He cheerfully introduced himself. “Hi there. I will be your driver. My name is Luigi, like in the Super Mario Brothers game”. Sometimes, shuttle drivers just do their job and get passengers to their destination safely. Other times, they do more. I instantly got the feeling that this ride wouldn’t be long and dragged out like many of the others. From the time we left the parking lot at the university, I couldn’t get the guy to shut up, not that that was a bad thing. Time goes by quickly and long rides are made memorable when there is good conversation. I’m not sure how we got on the topics we discussed but the conversation flowed non-stop from the weird weather we were having, to where I was going for vacation, to what our plans for the upcoming Christmas holidays were and onto an in-depth conversation about working Out West. I picked up some tips about getting jobs in the lucrative oil fields where so many other Cape Bretoners were already working. Things like what camps are hiring, which ones are laying people off, which ones treat their employees the best and which ones are best avoided. All this transpired before we even reached the next stop.
After that first stop in Sydney River, it was onto our next stop at the Newfoundland ferry terminal to pick up a few more passengers and onto another stop on the Northside to pick up another passenger. I hate crowded shuttles and was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable with the number of people that were beginning to pile into the van. With only a few seats left, we arrived at the North Sydney Mall to pick up our last passenger, a young woman who was headed to Halifax to meet a friend, spend the night and drive back to Cape Breton the very next day with her friend who didn’t want to drive by herself. Have you ever instantly clicked with someone you just met? It doesn’t happen often but, every once and a while, I will meet someone that I instantly feel comfortable around and can talk to them about anything. That’s what it was like between me and that last passenger we picked up. All the way to Halifax, we talked non-stop about our jobs, our hobbies, our pets and everything else under the sun and before I knew it, we pulled up to the main entrance of the airport. A drive that usually feels like ten hours felt like 2 hours and I felt kind of sad about having to leave the group.
Before I walked away from the shuttle and into Atlantic Canada’s busiest airport, Luigi passed along some information that would help make my overnight stay in the airport a little more comfortable. He informed me that guests of his shuttle service could avail of a comfortable lounge located in the hotel attached to the airport. All I had to do was go to the 3rd floor of the hotel, confidently walk into the lounge like I owned the place and take a seat in one of the comfortable chairs. He advised me that it might be a good idea to buy a drink or something to eat at some point during the night so staff would leave me alone
Before I made my way over to that lounge I ventured into the main area of the airport to check on the status of my 7AM flight. The airport was busy with flights simultaneously arriving and leaving. The noise level and bright lights seemed more annoying than usual as I just spent five hours in a dark, relatively quiet mini-van on a dark highway. I quickly verified my flight, which thankfully, was on time, and walked over to the hotel to find that lounge.
I knew I found the right place when I walked into a dimly-lit lounge complete with soft Jazz music playing in the background and comfortable chairs and couches. What I wasn’t prepared for was the young man sitting behind a desk greeting every person who came in and out of the lounge. I had to come up with something quickly so to not rouse any suspicion so I just said “I’m looking for a place to relax before my midnight boarding call” thinking his shift would probably end before that time anyway. “Feel free to sit anywhere you like. The bar is still open and there are snacks available for purchase on the other side” was all he said.
I sunk into a huge, comfortable chair but I wasn’t ready to doze off yet. I was still wound up from the drive and had some phone calls I had to make. I was right about that employee’s shift ending before midnight. At least I assume that’s what happened to him. One minute he was there and than I didn’t see him again for the rest of the night. That meant I could stay there and take a nap without anyone suspecting a thing. But just to be on the safe side, I bought something to eat before my eyes got too heavy. For the not-so-small price of $17.00, I got a cookie, a bottle of water and a child’s portion of microwaveable “specialty” macaroni and cheese. Typical airport fare and prices.
I finished my “meal” and once again sunk into that big comfy chair and nodded off with the help of soft ambient light and relaxing jazz music. I slept surprisingly well, waking only when my phone, which was tucked underneath my arm, vibrated to let me know it was time to head to the airline check-in counter. I am so glad I discovered that little secret lounge. Usually when I have to spend the night at the Halifax airport, I end up trying to sleep on a hard airport chair in the midst of all the sounds that airports make. I felt like a million bucks as I headed to the check-in counter after having one of my best airport overnights ever and it only cost me $17.00!
When it comes to airports and flying, I usually have bad luck. Delayed or cancelled flights, annoying seat mates, lost luggage and dealing with rude or just plain ignorant airport and airline employees are just some of the common things I come across when traveling anywhere that involves flying. This time, however, I happened upon a good luck streak. You know how most airlines have decided to charge for that first checked baggage? Well, when I checked in with WestJet and told the lady at the counter I had one bag to check, she looked up my flight and said my bag had already been paid for. I knew, 100% fact, that I did not pay for that bag but she still insisted on letting it go for free! Right off the bat, I saved 25 bucks! I didn’t choose my seat when I booked the flight and usually when I don’t choose my seat, they automatically put me in the aisle at the very back of the plane but this time, they placed me in a window seat near the front of the plane! I took my seat and watched as passenger after passenger took up seats all around me but no one took any of the two seats next to me. I ended up with an entire row to myself so I could stretch out and take up as much of the arm rests as I liked. No one falling asleep on the arm rest to prevent me from changing the station on the seat-back television and no one to crawl over to go to the bathroom. I never have luck that good when I’m flying.
The 1.5-hour flight to Toronto Pearson went as usual: Leave Halifax, land in Toronto, get off plane, run at top speed to terminal 3, board another plane. The final 6.5-hour flight to my final destination also went without incident. A little bit of turbulence, the discovery that WestJet no longer offers Bits and Bites(they offered pretzels instead and I don’t really like pretzels) and some trouble finding a pen with which to fill out the customs sheet they always pass out mid-flight to international destinations is all I have to report for that leg of my journey.
Before I knew it, the pilot announced our descent towards Bridgetown and that sparkling blue-green water the Caribbean is known for along with hundreds of sailboats sailing along the coast got closer and closer. I was itching to get off the plane after the long flight and was thankful to be seated so close to the exit…except, the flight crew decided that we would be exiting via the back door instead. And that folks, is when my luck started to go downhill.
My bad luck didn’t stop there. I entered the non-air-conditioned immigration area of the airport only to be greeted by a huge lineup of passengers waiting to get through. So much for getting that “lucky” seat close to the front of the plane. I was literally at the very back of the line that ended up taking two hours to clear not including customs and baggage pick-up. I worried my shuttle driver would be looking for me so I turned on my cell-phone to access my email and see if she left me a message. I thought most airports had free Wi-fi but this elusive, free airport Wi-fi never seems to work for me and it didn’t on this occasion. I didn’t have an international data plan on my phone but figured a few seconds wouldn’t cost much. I logged on, quickly checked my email, found nothing from my driver and quickly turned off my data…and was greeted with a text message from my service provider stating that I had just been charged $25.00 for accessing data overseas. I saved $25.00 on baggage fees and ended up using it for outrageous data fees. So much for getting a little ahead.
An hour into that long wait, I was so hungry I ransacked my carry-on for any leftover snacks and found a half eaten bag of chips. The woman behind me was practically licking her lips as she watched me devour the chips and said “oh my, those look so good right now”. I just smiled awkwardly and slowly turned around avoiding anymore eye contact with her. I guess I could have shared. Is it wrong that I didn’t? Nah…two thoughts went through my head at that moment: 1) I don’t want some stranger’s germy hands in my chips and 2) I’m hungry and they're my chips – get your own chips! Ok so I was a little cranky and selfish by that time.
I finally cleared the necessary evils of international travel, exited the airport and looked for the area where cabs and “cabs” wait and harass travelers who don’t know any better with “hey miss, I give you best deal on cab ride anywhere in city” and “Where are you going miss….ah yes, I was sent to pick you up, come along” and the like. But I know better after almost being “kidnapped” by some timeshare salespeople pretending to be my ride at the airport in Cancun a few years earlier. I always do my research before I go anywhere now and learn what color cabs are the safest and most legit to take and to always get the names of shuttle drivers who are meeting me and never give out my intended destination or name to anyone even if they are driving a legit-looking cab. It wasn’t hard to find my driver, Sandra, as she was standing out front holding a sign with my first and last name on it. We walked to her van and I made my first mistake in this new and unfamiliar country; I went around to the right side of the vehicle and got in the passenger side…except it wasn’t the passenger side. I forgot that Bajans drive on the left and I found myself sitting behind the wheel with my driver asking “are you driving” and with an embarrassed chuckle, I got out and walked around to the actual passenger side.
Traffic was heavy by that time so we took a short cut. Sandra drove quite fast but made her way around the many roundabouts and lane changes like a pro. I always love the rides from the airport to the hotel. These rides are my first taste of a new place and I got to see quite a bit of the island on that drive to Angler Apartments in Derricks on the west coast of the island.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Labour Day Weekend Road Trip Through Annapolis Valley and the Bay Of Fundy - A Friendly Hostel, A Fancy Resort and an Unscheduled Detour into the Unknown
As the Labour Day long weekend approached, I knew I’d be going somewhere but the problem was I couldn’t decide where. The only thing I knew for sure was I had 3 days in which to get away from home and enjoy what might be the last road trip of the year. I thought about going to Moncton to visit family, I thought about returning to the South Shore, Halifax crossed my mind briefly and I even thought about staying closer to home and driving around the Cabot Trail. At one point, I settled on the Parsborro/Five Islands area and even booked a hostel. However, about a week before my departure, another option presented itself…one that I could not pass up!
I was having a coffee with my sister and telling her about my upcoming solo, long-weekend road trip when she mentioned that she had a voucher for a free night stay at Digby Pines Resort. I’d been to Digby when I was a child and remembered seeing that beautiful resort perched along the shoreline and always wanted to stay there. She offered me that voucher because it expired in the new year and she wouldn’t be able to use it. I pondered my options; I’d have to drive 7 hours there and back which meant a significant portion of my weekend would be spent in the car and I would have to cancel my reservation in Parsborro. On the other hand, I had not been to that area in a long time, I love to drive and I knew the drive through the Annapolis Valley would be a nice one and how could I pass up a free stay at one of Atlantic Canada’s best resorts? I took the voucher and the minute I made up my mind to go to Digby, I called and reserved a room. However, I didn’t end up canceling my room in Parsborro – I decided to go there as well.
I left on time Saturday morning and headed towards the Trans-Canada Highway. And by “on time” I mean the usual hour behind planned departure. I was well-rested this time and made a point to grab a coffee at the first coffee shop I saw to avoid a repeat of the last road trip that saw me taking a little nap at the wheel on a straight stretch near the Canso Causeway. It was almost dusk when I reached the turn off to Parsborro. I wasn’t too worried about driving in the dark except for the fact that I was told there were a lot of deer in the area. I assumed I wouldn’t see the scenery of the area until the next day when I backtracked my way back to the main highway but, on the contrary, I was able to see that beautiful area under the dim and colorful light of a spectacular sunset. Darkness fell fast and than all I could see was the road directly in front of me.
I arrived in Parsborro at around 9:30 tired and hungry. I immediately started looking for my hostel so I could unpack before seeking a place to grab a bite to eat. The town was only small so I figured the hostel shouldn’t be that hard to find, right? Wrong. It took me a good 45 minutes to find it. I drove around in circles trying to find anything that looked remotely like a hostel but always ended back in the same place. Even after speaking to the owner on the phone and acquiring very detailed directions, I had trouble finding it. Finally, I found it tucked away on a little side street in the same area I had been circling all along.
The owner of the hostel was waiting for me on the step to make sure I found the right place. Her friendly manner immediately made me feel at home. Sometimes I find myself nervous going to new places because I don’t know if the people will be friendly and inviting. There is nothing worse than going to a new place and feeling unwanted or like you are getting in the way but I certainly did not feel this way at Mad Hatter!
After a brief introduction, I took my belongings upstairs to my private room, unpacked the things I would need for bedtime and ducked out for a while in search of somewhere to grab a quick, but filling, bite to eat. Unfortunately, everything was closed except the Tim Horton’s donut shop on the main drag. I like some of the food at Tim’s but I was getting sick of it because I end up eating it so much on the road. However, I once again had to settle for a plain bagel with cream cheese and a chocolate chip muffin. I returned to an empty house except for my hostess who was relaxing in her living room. Apparently I was the only guest at the hostel that night and she was very eager to get to know her guest. Although I was tired, I didn’t realize that almost 2 hours had passed while we were chatting away about our mutual love of travel, the ability to be able to pick and go whenever we pleased, the dislike of having too many material items to tie us down and our past and future adventures around the world. I am fairly well-traveled but this woman is quite the seasoned adventurer with no plans on quitting anytime soon. I love to have in-depth conversations with people like this because it is hard to find others who have a love of travel and culture like I do. Most of the people I am surrounded by at home are happy to just live mediocre lives consisting of waking up, eating, working and sleeping. I crave more and know that there is more to life than this and I know I am, unfortunately, a minority in my way of living and thinking.
I slept like a baby that night. Every time I sleep in a different bed from my own, I am reminded how badly I need a new pillow. At home, I wake up with a sore back and neck. The morning I awoke at Mad Hatter, I was pain free, refreshed and energized to face the long day ahead of me. I wished I could have stayed longer and chatted with my hostess some more and see more of the attractions around that pretty little town but I only had two days to get to my final destination and back home in time for the start of another work week. I took a quick loop around the town to take some pictures and make mental notes of the things I would like to see and do the next time I came through there and settled myself into the car for the long haul ahead of me. It’s a seven-hour drive to Digby and I wanted to get there before nightfall.
According to my dad, I made that trip through the Annapolis Valley once as a child but to remember it was another story. I made the turn off the Trans-Canada highway onto highway 101 near Halifax and started my journey through an area that is said to be one of the most scenic in all of Canada. For the first little while, I traveled through a busy area with lots of traffic. The landscape gradually changed and the traffic became lighter as I drive into a more rural area. Lush green forest areas, rolling fields and scenic coastal areas unfolded in front of me. I was in a hurry to get to Digby but I couldn’t stop that nagging feeling deep down inside that was telling me I wanted to explore a bit of that backcountry so I turned onto an off-ramp that led to one of the prettiest two-lane highways I have driven on to date.
I drove along that stretch of highway for about a half hour, passing though vineyards, farmlands, apple orchards and fields. I came to an area that was particularly scenic and pulled over to take some pictures and just enjoy the serene surroundings. I don’t normally like to backtrack the same way I came but my GPS ran out of juice and there was no one around to ask for directions. I had no idea where that highway led or whether it might lead back to my original path so I turned around and headed back the way I came. I was an hour off-track but it was an hour well-spent.
The main highway was scenic too and I made mental notes of signs for towns located off the main highway to possibly visit on my way home the next day. Annapolis Royal, Kentville, Windsor and Wolfville. I made it to Digby around 5 O’clock that afternoon and promptly tried to located the Digby Pines resort so I could check in, unpack and set out to explore the town. It wasn’t too hard to find. I made a few wrong turns and even missed the resort altogether and ended up at the terminal for the ferry to Saint John, New Brunswick. I always thought The Pines was located in a very secluded area, away from everything else (much like The Keltic Lodge here in Cape Breton) but it was located right on a main road. The area was scenic, however, and the resort overlooked the bay and surrounding coastline.
Check in was quick and easy and once I settled into my room, I set out in search of a place to eat in the town of Digby. Unfortunately, that was not to be; a motorcycle rally was taking place in the town and that evening was the main event and all the roads leading to the prime areas of the town, including the downtown area, were blocked off to outside traffic. I drove around and finally found a Subway restaurant and had to settle for a veggie sub instead of a meal in one of the local restaurants like I had hoped. I drove around the areas that were open to the public and did a bit of exploring but in the end, it was the resort swimming pool that drew me back to homebase for the evening. The night air was a bit cool but once I was submerged in those clear waters under the night sky, I couldn’t have been more relaxed.
About an hour after I entered the pool, a light rain began to fall. I contemplated getting out and retreating to my room but I stayed there with that light, warm mist falling gently on my face as I relaxed in the warmth of the heated water. When I finally did have to get out, it was not pleasant; the air had turned cold and damp and the walk back to my room in my wet clothing was an uncomfortable one. I changed and came back downstairs to wander around the resort for a bit. There were a few restaurants, a café, some common areas and lounges. As I waked about, I started to hear very loud bangs coming from outside. I thought it was thunder but it sounded louder and like it was right outside the resort gates. Without thinking twice, I wandered outside (not thinking that I could be walking right into a dangerous situation) to check it out. The bangs got louder and more frequent as I walked towards the end of the parking lot but I still couldn’t see anything until I came to a clearing and noticed the sky lit up with various colors. I forgot about the motorcycle rally closing ceremonies that evening and was witnessing a very impressive fireworks display. I stood there in the open parking lot with a light rain falling and watched until the last firework lit up the night sky.
Once again, I slept like a baby. I awoke feeling refreshed and energized and this just solidified my theory that I need some new pillows on my bed at home. I was told that the resort was supposed to be haunted and although I am usually a little skeptical about such things, my computer did turn itself off at one point while I was getting ready. It never did that before and has not done it since so perhaps there’s some truth to that rumor.
A free buffet breakfast came with my stay and I am not one to turn down a free meal, especially at a resort like this. I fit as much as I could on my plate and retreated to a table near the window where the sun was shining in. I expected the food to be of high quality but I was unable to eat some of it. The scrambled eggs had little taste and were similar to the ones you buy in a package and just add water to and the bread products and sweets were a tad dry.
The town of Digby was like a ghost town that morning. The biker rally had wrapped up and I presumed everyone was still asleep and recovering from the events of the night before. This provided me with a good opportunity to take a quick tour of the downtown area, get some pictures and hit up a café where I could buy a coffee for the road. Taking pictures of the downtown area was fairly easy as there were barely any people or cars to get in the way of my camera. I walked the streets and looked at the little shops and watched the boats coming and going but was unable to locate a café that was open that early on a Sunday morning.
I set out toward home around 11:00 that morning. Although I had a long drive ahead of me and had to be home that night, I still made a point to stop at a few of the places I noticed on the way up. Annapolis Royal was one of the towns I wanted to visit so when I came upon the exit to the town, I left the highway. After getting a little lost, I found the downtown shopping area, parked the car and set out on foot. Almost everything was closed in this town too. I walked around the grounds adjacent to the National Historic Site, took some pictures and browsed the main street for a coffee shop. Again, none were open but I came across a clothing store with some dresses in the window display that caught my eye and this shop was open. A young woman from India greeted me at the door and after discovering what type of clothing I was interested in, she guided me to a rack filled with colorful, hand-made dresses of various styles. I would have bought every one of them of I could afford it, they were all so beautiful! I picked out a handful to try on and settled on the best three to buy. I went a little over budget but due to the quality and uniqueness of the dresses and the fact that they were just what I was looking for, I saw it as an investment. Their timeless designs will carry me through many seasons without falling apart or becoming out-dated. I was so impressed with the shop, the service and the items available that I promised the young woman that I would share her business with everyone I came into contact with…including my blog readers. The shop is located on the main street in downtown Annapolis Royal. Trust me; it is well worth a stop.
With the headache and crankiness of caffeine withdrawal setting in, I had no choice but to settle for a Tim Horton’s medium with milk. Not that there is anything wrong with Tim’s coffee, it’s just that when I am traveling, I like to sample local coffee shops rather than chain shops.
Despite stopping a few times along the way, I was still making good time. I arrived at the Halifax airport hoping to grab a Starbucks coffee near the main entrance but remembered how crazy the parking situation is there so I, again, settled for a Tim’s coffee. I drove for about an hour and stopped for gas. I also hoped to find something inexpensive and healthy to eat. No such luck. I ended up driving in that special part of the early evening when the sun is just perfectly set in the sky enough to prevent car sun visors from blocking it and to blind drivers head-on. Darkness had settled in when I reached Antigonish and was again faced with a deserted town that was virtually closed down. I heard Greco made good pizza and I was so hungry by that time that that is what I settled for; a slice of pep n’ cheese because there were no vegetarian slices available. I ate every bite because I was so famished but I am unable to see what the fuss is about because it was probably one of the worse slices of pizza I ever ate! I washed it down with a sugary apple fritter from the Tim Horton’s next door and silently berated myself for literally making myself feel ill by eating so many unhealthy items in one sitting.
I reached the Canso Causeway at about 10:00 that night and although I love long drives, I was happy to have reached that final leg of my journey. I was back on Cape Breton Island and there was just one long stretch left until I could rest in my warm bed. I always get a little mixed up at the round-about right after the causeway. There are three ways you can go; route 4 through St. Peters, the 105 Trans-Canada through Baddeck or the Ceilidh Trail through Judique and Port Hood. I always mess up and end up on the furthest exit onto route 4 so this time, I made sure I didn’t go too far over and exited onto the 105. Or at least I thought I did. I drove for about a half hour and started to notice things I had never noticed before on that well-traveled highway. A church I never noticed before. A grouping of houses that must have been built since the last time I passed through there. And there it was; a sign telling me I was on the Ceilidh Trail.
This route is very scenic and leads to some of the most beautiful areas of the island but I wasn’t looking for scenery, I was looking to get home. Had I kept traveling that route, I would have ended up in Inverness and other remote communities and it would have taken hours to get home. I had two options; turn around and go back to the Causeway and get back on the 105 or set my GPS to take me back to the 105 without backtracking. As it turned out, there was a route back to the 105 so I followed the instructions on the screen. The first road I turned onto was paved, which was a good sign. The screen on my GPS was telling me that after a few turns, I would be back on the 105. I didn’t say how long this would take or how many kilometers this detour was. It also didn’t tell me that every road after that first turn would be gravel…and, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. By now on, I will program my GPS to avoid gravel roads. But than again, I told myself that the last time I got lost while traveling in the Mojave Desert of Nevada.
About twenty minutes into my journey into the unknown backcountry (which I now guess was the Mabou Highlands area based on a map I looked at a few days after that ill-fated wrong turn), my GPS went black. Panic set in and I contemplated turning around and backtracking. I usually think things through and make fairly good decisions but that night I made the decision to keep going. And keep going I did – for another two hours on gravel roads, in the middle of nowhere, with no people, houses or other vehicles to be seen. Just me and two very large coyotes trotting along the road. Their size alone and the fact that they were obviously on the prowl for food had me thinking about what I would do if I ran out of gas or broke down in that desolate place. Would I get out and walk or would I stay in the car? Neither option was ideal. I glanced at my phone and noticed I had no signal. Had there been one, I might have dialed 911 to dispatch an RCMP cruiser or search and rescue team to escort me out of there. In my mind, I was lost and with every passing mile and every passing minute, I was getting more lost.
As I drove deeper into the backcountry, I felt as I was going deeper and deeper into the unknown. At one point, I reached the end of the road and could only turn right. I thought for sure I was nearing the turn off to the main highway but the road just kept going and going and going. By this time, I was so scared I started to cry. No joke. There were genuine tears. Not very many things scare me but the thought of being stuck out in that wilderness all night terrified me. Horrific scenes from various horror movies that involve lone women lost in the woods flooded my mind but just as all hope of finding my way out was about to be lost, my phone rang. I had service! This meant I was once again close to civilization. It was Dad calling to see where I was. My dad, the avid outdoorsman that he was, would surely get a kick out of me being lost and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of having something to poke fun at. I told him I had just reached the causeway and would be home in about two hours. Just a little white lie. Not long after I hung up the phone, a street light came into view followed by some houses and finally, a stop sign signifying the end of that impromptu journey into the unknown. I was back, safely, on the Trans-Canada Highway. I may not have been able to laugh at myself while it was happening, but I laugh at myself now thinking about how I got lost so close to home…on the island that I thought I knew like the back of my hand. Someday, I will recreate that wrong turn and see exactly where I was but I will make sure it is during daylight hours and that my GPS is fully charged!
I left on time Saturday morning and headed towards the Trans-Canada Highway. And by “on time” I mean the usual hour behind planned departure. I was well-rested this time and made a point to grab a coffee at the first coffee shop I saw to avoid a repeat of the last road trip that saw me taking a little nap at the wheel on a straight stretch near the Canso Causeway. It was almost dusk when I reached the turn off to Parsborro. I wasn’t too worried about driving in the dark except for the fact that I was told there were a lot of deer in the area. I assumed I wouldn’t see the scenery of the area until the next day when I backtracked my way back to the main highway but, on the contrary, I was able to see that beautiful area under the dim and colorful light of a spectacular sunset. Darkness fell fast and than all I could see was the road directly in front of me.
I arrived in Parsborro at around 9:30 tired and hungry. I immediately started looking for my hostel so I could unpack before seeking a place to grab a bite to eat. The town was only small so I figured the hostel shouldn’t be that hard to find, right? Wrong. It took me a good 45 minutes to find it. I drove around in circles trying to find anything that looked remotely like a hostel but always ended back in the same place. Even after speaking to the owner on the phone and acquiring very detailed directions, I had trouble finding it. Finally, I found it tucked away on a little side street in the same area I had been circling all along.
After a brief introduction, I took my belongings upstairs to my private room, unpacked the things I would need for bedtime and ducked out for a while in search of somewhere to grab a quick, but filling, bite to eat. Unfortunately, everything was closed except the Tim Horton’s donut shop on the main drag. I like some of the food at Tim’s but I was getting sick of it because I end up eating it so much on the road. However, I once again had to settle for a plain bagel with cream cheese and a chocolate chip muffin. I returned to an empty house except for my hostess who was relaxing in her living room. Apparently I was the only guest at the hostel that night and she was very eager to get to know her guest. Although I was tired, I didn’t realize that almost 2 hours had passed while we were chatting away about our mutual love of travel, the ability to be able to pick and go whenever we pleased, the dislike of having too many material items to tie us down and our past and future adventures around the world. I am fairly well-traveled but this woman is quite the seasoned adventurer with no plans on quitting anytime soon. I love to have in-depth conversations with people like this because it is hard to find others who have a love of travel and culture like I do. Most of the people I am surrounded by at home are happy to just live mediocre lives consisting of waking up, eating, working and sleeping. I crave more and know that there is more to life than this and I know I am, unfortunately, a minority in my way of living and thinking.
I slept like a baby that night. Every time I sleep in a different bed from my own, I am reminded how badly I need a new pillow. At home, I wake up with a sore back and neck. The morning I awoke at Mad Hatter, I was pain free, refreshed and energized to face the long day ahead of me. I wished I could have stayed longer and chatted with my hostess some more and see more of the attractions around that pretty little town but I only had two days to get to my final destination and back home in time for the start of another work week. I took a quick loop around the town to take some pictures and make mental notes of the things I would like to see and do the next time I came through there and settled myself into the car for the long haul ahead of me. It’s a seven-hour drive to Digby and I wanted to get there before nightfall.
I drove along that stretch of highway for about a half hour, passing though vineyards, farmlands, apple orchards and fields. I came to an area that was particularly scenic and pulled over to take some pictures and just enjoy the serene surroundings. I don’t normally like to backtrack the same way I came but my GPS ran out of juice and there was no one around to ask for directions. I had no idea where that highway led or whether it might lead back to my original path so I turned around and headed back the way I came. I was an hour off-track but it was an hour well-spent.
About an hour after I entered the pool, a light rain began to fall. I contemplated getting out and retreating to my room but I stayed there with that light, warm mist falling gently on my face as I relaxed in the warmth of the heated water. When I finally did have to get out, it was not pleasant; the air had turned cold and damp and the walk back to my room in my wet clothing was an uncomfortable one. I changed and came back downstairs to wander around the resort for a bit. There were a few restaurants, a café, some common areas and lounges. As I waked about, I started to hear very loud bangs coming from outside. I thought it was thunder but it sounded louder and like it was right outside the resort gates. Without thinking twice, I wandered outside (not thinking that I could be walking right into a dangerous situation) to check it out. The bangs got louder and more frequent as I walked towards the end of the parking lot but I still couldn’t see anything until I came to a clearing and noticed the sky lit up with various colors. I forgot about the motorcycle rally closing ceremonies that evening and was witnessing a very impressive fireworks display. I stood there in the open parking lot with a light rain falling and watched until the last firework lit up the night sky.
Once again, I slept like a baby. I awoke feeling refreshed and energized and this just solidified my theory that I need some new pillows on my bed at home. I was told that the resort was supposed to be haunted and although I am usually a little skeptical about such things, my computer did turn itself off at one point while I was getting ready. It never did that before and has not done it since so perhaps there’s some truth to that rumor.
A free buffet breakfast came with my stay and I am not one to turn down a free meal, especially at a resort like this. I fit as much as I could on my plate and retreated to a table near the window where the sun was shining in. I expected the food to be of high quality but I was unable to eat some of it. The scrambled eggs had little taste and were similar to the ones you buy in a package and just add water to and the bread products and sweets were a tad dry.
I set out toward home around 11:00 that morning. Although I had a long drive ahead of me and had to be home that night, I still made a point to stop at a few of the places I noticed on the way up. Annapolis Royal was one of the towns I wanted to visit so when I came upon the exit to the town, I left the highway. After getting a little lost, I found the downtown shopping area, parked the car and set out on foot. Almost everything was closed in this town too. I walked around the grounds adjacent to the National Historic Site, took some pictures and browsed the main street for a coffee shop. Again, none were open but I came across a clothing store with some dresses in the window display that caught my eye and this shop was open. A young woman from India greeted me at the door and after discovering what type of clothing I was interested in, she guided me to a rack filled with colorful, hand-made dresses of various styles. I would have bought every one of them of I could afford it, they were all so beautiful! I picked out a handful to try on and settled on the best three to buy. I went a little over budget but due to the quality and uniqueness of the dresses and the fact that they were just what I was looking for, I saw it as an investment. Their timeless designs will carry me through many seasons without falling apart or becoming out-dated. I was so impressed with the shop, the service and the items available that I promised the young woman that I would share her business with everyone I came into contact with…including my blog readers. The shop is located on the main street in downtown Annapolis Royal. Trust me; it is well worth a stop.
With the headache and crankiness of caffeine withdrawal setting in, I had no choice but to settle for a Tim Horton’s medium with milk. Not that there is anything wrong with Tim’s coffee, it’s just that when I am traveling, I like to sample local coffee shops rather than chain shops.
Despite stopping a few times along the way, I was still making good time. I arrived at the Halifax airport hoping to grab a Starbucks coffee near the main entrance but remembered how crazy the parking situation is there so I, again, settled for a Tim’s coffee. I drove for about an hour and stopped for gas. I also hoped to find something inexpensive and healthy to eat. No such luck. I ended up driving in that special part of the early evening when the sun is just perfectly set in the sky enough to prevent car sun visors from blocking it and to blind drivers head-on. Darkness had settled in when I reached Antigonish and was again faced with a deserted town that was virtually closed down. I heard Greco made good pizza and I was so hungry by that time that that is what I settled for; a slice of pep n’ cheese because there were no vegetarian slices available. I ate every bite because I was so famished but I am unable to see what the fuss is about because it was probably one of the worse slices of pizza I ever ate! I washed it down with a sugary apple fritter from the Tim Horton’s next door and silently berated myself for literally making myself feel ill by eating so many unhealthy items in one sitting.
This route is very scenic and leads to some of the most beautiful areas of the island but I wasn’t looking for scenery, I was looking to get home. Had I kept traveling that route, I would have ended up in Inverness and other remote communities and it would have taken hours to get home. I had two options; turn around and go back to the Causeway and get back on the 105 or set my GPS to take me back to the 105 without backtracking. As it turned out, there was a route back to the 105 so I followed the instructions on the screen. The first road I turned onto was paved, which was a good sign. The screen on my GPS was telling me that after a few turns, I would be back on the 105. I didn’t say how long this would take or how many kilometers this detour was. It also didn’t tell me that every road after that first turn would be gravel…and, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere. By now on, I will program my GPS to avoid gravel roads. But than again, I told myself that the last time I got lost while traveling in the Mojave Desert of Nevada.
About twenty minutes into my journey into the unknown backcountry (which I now guess was the Mabou Highlands area based on a map I looked at a few days after that ill-fated wrong turn), my GPS went black. Panic set in and I contemplated turning around and backtracking. I usually think things through and make fairly good decisions but that night I made the decision to keep going. And keep going I did – for another two hours on gravel roads, in the middle of nowhere, with no people, houses or other vehicles to be seen. Just me and two very large coyotes trotting along the road. Their size alone and the fact that they were obviously on the prowl for food had me thinking about what I would do if I ran out of gas or broke down in that desolate place. Would I get out and walk or would I stay in the car? Neither option was ideal. I glanced at my phone and noticed I had no signal. Had there been one, I might have dialed 911 to dispatch an RCMP cruiser or search and rescue team to escort me out of there. In my mind, I was lost and with every passing mile and every passing minute, I was getting more lost.
As I drove deeper into the backcountry, I felt as I was going deeper and deeper into the unknown. At one point, I reached the end of the road and could only turn right. I thought for sure I was nearing the turn off to the main highway but the road just kept going and going and going. By this time, I was so scared I started to cry. No joke. There were genuine tears. Not very many things scare me but the thought of being stuck out in that wilderness all night terrified me. Horrific scenes from various horror movies that involve lone women lost in the woods flooded my mind but just as all hope of finding my way out was about to be lost, my phone rang. I had service! This meant I was once again close to civilization. It was Dad calling to see where I was. My dad, the avid outdoorsman that he was, would surely get a kick out of me being lost and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of having something to poke fun at. I told him I had just reached the causeway and would be home in about two hours. Just a little white lie. Not long after I hung up the phone, a street light came into view followed by some houses and finally, a stop sign signifying the end of that impromptu journey into the unknown. I was back, safely, on the Trans-Canada Highway. I may not have been able to laugh at myself while it was happening, but I laugh at myself now thinking about how I got lost so close to home…on the island that I thought I knew like the back of my hand. Someday, I will recreate that wrong turn and see exactly where I was but I will make sure it is during daylight hours and that my GPS is fully charged!
Monday, September 8, 2014
A Spring Road Trip, Some Damn Good Music and a Leisurely Stroll Around Downtown Halifax
I was just recently unemployed so a road trip was almost certainly out-of-the-question this past May long weekend. I say almost because with enough arm-twisting and coaxing from the right person, I can be persuaded to do anything that involves a car, the open road and a night or more away from home.
I had many excuses to say no when my sister asked me to accompany her to a concert in Halifax. The fact that I was short on cash was just one of the excuses I came up with. In the end, the prospect of a spring road trip before starting my new job that following Monday was enough to get me to finally give in and start packing my bags for a weekend in the “big city”. I had no idea what was in store for me until the last minute. All I knew was there would be several bands playing at a small club called Michael's Bar & Grill. She had everything taken care of including the tickets and the hotel. All I had to do was be ready and waiting at my door when she arrived to pick me up that morning.
The drive to Halifax was like any other long drive. This was the first time I made a long trip in a vehicle as a passenger so I was able to notice a lot of things I never noticed before on the way up. One thing I noticed, despite all the talk about the dangers of texting and driving, is a lot of drivers still text and drive and there was a close call with one of these texting drivers near one of the turn offs into the city.
We checked into our hotel and relaxed for a bit before heading out. There was a very nice bar attached to it and we stopped there for a few drinks before hailing a cab to the show.
Michael's Bar & Grill wasn’t very far at all but our chatty cab driver had some advice for us before we got out. “Your going to Michael's eh? Better watch out for stray bullets”. Apparently there had been a shooting there in the past. Way to instill paranoia into a couple of young girls heading out for a night on the town to enjoy some live music.
The venue itself looked small and deserted from the outside. Even after we entered, it seemed this way. However, that small bar extended into a large back room where many people were gathered in front of a stage. I’d never heard of any of the bands that were playing but my sister did and she assured me that they were all good. Head of the Herd from Vancouver headlined the show with guests The Balconies and The Damn Truth taking the stage first. All the bands pulled off stellar sets and each one had a unique sound. I was quite surprised by the quality of the music considering I thought I was going to see some unknown local bands but soon discovered that these were well-seasoned, professional musicians from all over Canada.
We stayed behind for a while after the show chatting with some people we met at the bar and just hanging out on the outside deck finishing off our drinks before heading back to the hotel. A visit with a friend and a long drive home awaited us the next day so sleep was definitely in order.
After getting a little lost, as per usual on any road trip I go on, we made our way to Clayton Park to meet our friend and her baby. We started off with breakfast followed by a relaxing afternoon in the public gardens and a walk downtown. It had been years since I wandered around in downtown Halifax and it was only slightly different than I remembered.
The drive back was much the same as the drive there and, like any time spent on the road, I was in my element. It was the 5-hour closure to a great mini-vacation before heading back to work at my new job that started the next day.
I had many excuses to say no when my sister asked me to accompany her to a concert in Halifax. The fact that I was short on cash was just one of the excuses I came up with. In the end, the prospect of a spring road trip before starting my new job that following Monday was enough to get me to finally give in and start packing my bags for a weekend in the “big city”. I had no idea what was in store for me until the last minute. All I knew was there would be several bands playing at a small club called Michael's Bar & Grill. She had everything taken care of including the tickets and the hotel. All I had to do was be ready and waiting at my door when she arrived to pick me up that morning.
The drive to Halifax was like any other long drive. This was the first time I made a long trip in a vehicle as a passenger so I was able to notice a lot of things I never noticed before on the way up. One thing I noticed, despite all the talk about the dangers of texting and driving, is a lot of drivers still text and drive and there was a close call with one of these texting drivers near one of the turn offs into the city.
We checked into our hotel and relaxed for a bit before heading out. There was a very nice bar attached to it and we stopped there for a few drinks before hailing a cab to the show.
Michael's Bar & Grill wasn’t very far at all but our chatty cab driver had some advice for us before we got out. “Your going to Michael's eh? Better watch out for stray bullets”. Apparently there had been a shooting there in the past. Way to instill paranoia into a couple of young girls heading out for a night on the town to enjoy some live music.
The venue itself looked small and deserted from the outside. Even after we entered, it seemed this way. However, that small bar extended into a large back room where many people were gathered in front of a stage. I’d never heard of any of the bands that were playing but my sister did and she assured me that they were all good. Head of the Herd from Vancouver headlined the show with guests The Balconies and The Damn Truth taking the stage first. All the bands pulled off stellar sets and each one had a unique sound. I was quite surprised by the quality of the music considering I thought I was going to see some unknown local bands but soon discovered that these were well-seasoned, professional musicians from all over Canada.
We stayed behind for a while after the show chatting with some people we met at the bar and just hanging out on the outside deck finishing off our drinks before heading back to the hotel. A visit with a friend and a long drive home awaited us the next day so sleep was definitely in order.
After getting a little lost, as per usual on any road trip I go on, we made our way to Clayton Park to meet our friend and her baby. We started off with breakfast followed by a relaxing afternoon in the public gardens and a walk downtown. It had been years since I wandered around in downtown Halifax and it was only slightly different than I remembered.
The drive back was much the same as the drive there and, like any time spent on the road, I was in my element. It was the 5-hour closure to a great mini-vacation before heading back to work at my new job that started the next day.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Such a Big Decision that Really shouldn't be all that Hard to Make!
I have to admit, it did sound a bit suspicious. I received an email saying I had won and to confirm my contact information. I know there are a lot of scams out there so I never give information or “confirm” anything like this without doing research and background checks and that is what I did. The first thing that made me lean towards believing the email was the fact that they already had all my contact information. In the end, I found all the information I needed to realize that I had actually won this trip. I now recall entering this contest (I enter a lot of contests) every day for weeks and that I am a frequent visitor to the website that hosted the contest which, I should add, is Canadian, and yes, that makes a difference seeing as how I am located in Canada. I found no warnings or red flags whatsoever in my search and even found the original contest page with its rules and regulations and fine print.
So, by now you are probably asking “so what is the problem?” After all, it is a free trip to Costa Rica. Well, see that’s the catch…my accommodations, meals, excursions and resort activities are all paid for but my return flight is not. And the trip has to be taken by the end of November…this November. Of course, the first thing I did once I determined I was not being scammed but had to come up with my own airfare was research cheap flights to Costa Rica and I actually did find some pretty cheap ones at around $450.00 return/taxes included. That’s pretty good and affordable. I don’t have a whole lot of money kicking around right now but that is a pretty good deal for a return trip to Costa Rica. But the cost of the airfare is not really the biggest issue, it’s the timing. It’s always about the timing.
November is not that far away and I just found out a few days ago that I will be making a big move sometime this fall and starting a new job and these things may not allow me to take that much time away. So that is the conundrum; whether I will be able to leave town for that long during that time period.
Despite the reasons I may not be able to go, all I have been thinking about for the last two days is how to get around those barriers because, after much thought, I’m pretty sure I will be going to Costa Rica this fall. I only get to live once and how often do opportunities like this come my way? Not often. I believe in living life to the fullest and jumping on any opportunity that comes my way. That is why I have set up a trip watch for flights on hotwire.com from Halifax to San Jose Airport in Costa Rica. That is why I even searched for the cheapest ground transportation from San Jose Airport to Montezuma. That is why I have researched the country inside out. And that is why I researched the resort I would be staying at and took a peak at some of the reviews on Trip Advisor. The reviews are good. So are the amenities and excursions available. An infinity pool, healthy meals, nearby sandy beaches, Montezuma Falls, ziplining, scuba diving, rainforest excursions, yoga and surfing lessons. Did I mention there is an infinity pool? How can I say no to any of this?
So now it is just the waiting game. Waiting to hear back from them about how long I have to make my decision even though I am pretty sure the answer will be “why yes, of course, I will accept an almost free trip to one of the most beautiful countries in the world!”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
LinkWithin
