Category Archives: Books & Travel

Tourist or Traveler: that’s the Question!

Tourist or Traveler

Sharing about myself was never easy, even though I’m a talker. This is a story of change. Too short to call it a story, maybe just a tale of change. How do our travels and our destinations change whom we are? And so I start.

Who doesn’t want to see the world? Wonder around, see all those intriguing, faraway places, and post pictures to make everyone else jealous. But have you ever asked yourself: are you cut to be a tourist or a traveler?

Several years ago, when I met my former partner, I had many dreams about traveling and visiting places shaped  by hundreds of years of history, places I’ve been inspired by from many old books I’ve read: Paris, Athens, Rome, London, or New York! Imagine how thrilled I was when I found out my partner and I have in common this big desire to see the world. How long, would you think, until we realized how different our travel styles were? Well, after a couple of short trips done in the sweet honey-moon style, we went on our first real vacation. This was a four-week road trip, which took us from Munich, Germany, to Check Republic, Poland, Belarus, Russia, Finland, Norway, Sweden, then over the longest combined road and rail bridge (the Öresund, between Malmö and Copenhagen), on to Denmark, then hopped on the ferry and back to Germany. No guessing required, during this adventure we clashed a few times quite badly and it was all because we didn’t even consider to talk beforehand about what our travel styles are and figure out how they differ.

The first long stop was in St. Petersburg, only about 2,500 KM and five countries away. We stayed here, in this gorgeous “Venice of the North”, five days. After which we drove to Helsinki, Finland (only four hours away). To me, the highlights of this trip were supposed to be those big cities loaded with history. I left home with my mind set on certain places I had to see. A checklist. Obviously, my expectations took away some of that innate to a natural traveler flexibility. Yes, at the time I was more of a tourist.

When we entered ”the land of a thousand lakes” in Finland, spread between the cities of Kuopio to the northeast and Savonlinna to the southwest, I almost didn’t know how to open up to that kind of natural, wild, beauty. Breathtaking. And they call it “a thousand lakes” only metaphorically, because in fact there are over 187 thousand of them!

These were places I haven’t visualized on my little travel itinerary.

One evening I went to the Finish sauna. Being accustomed to the culture in Germany, where men and women like to sweat in the sauna naked, I wasn’t expecting to hit any other surprises here. But since I didn’t speak Finish, the Innkeeper treated me like a tourist and said there is just one big sauna room, but it follows a schedule:  from eight to nine it’s women only and from nine it’s men only. This kind of startled me, but I thought… ok. I went to the sauna at eight, only to find myself all alone in a hot room that could fit up to fifteen people. At this time it was pretty clear he served me with the tourist “Menu” and everyone else knew that the time to go to sauna was actually nine. And sure enough, as I was walking back to my room, a jolly group of about ten men and women were heading out to the sauna while making loud jokes and laughing. Oh, well, missed my window!

Moving north, we crossed the border into Norway, drove past the Arctic tree line, and went all the way to Nordkapp, the last piece of land you can set foot on in Europe. Here we spent a couple of windy hours just gazing into the Arctic Ocean and looking at peculiar tiny flowers growing bluntly on rocks, a myriad of colors. So, question: be honest and tell me, wouldn’t you be happy to be there right now? But I wasn’t. Nope, not me. I was this miserable tourist, complaining about how windy and cold it was and wondering how much longer until we get to a decent coffee shop.

And that question pops in again: tourist or traveler?

A tourist’s plans for a trip include places to visit. A traveler’s plans include tips on how to stay alive. Time and again I was taken out of my comfort zone. Overall, this whole trip was one cold traveler’s drop – added to my touristy garden. When I look back at it now, I see a lot more than a charming vacation. I see a discovery journey, where we’ve learned about secluded places, tried local foods, but most importantly, discovered each other.

At the end of this trip I was still a tourist, but perhaps a better one. My partner and I continued to disagree on vacation styles until life shaped us into the travelers we’ve become. At some point I made it to the point where I could understand Henry Miller’s remark: “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”

What about you, are you cut to be a tourist or a traveler?

Newfoundland and Labrador: Back Seat Memories (II)

In the first part of this story I didn’t talk about our stopping in Montreal, where I visited my Canadian Alma Mater, McGill University. After spending the weekend with friends, we’ve started our two-up motorcycle trip moving towards Baie-Comeau and then Labrador City. This itinerary took us through Churchill Falls, Happy Valley-Goose Bay, Red Bay, Blanc Sablon, St. Barbe, Flower’s Cove, L’Anse aux Meadows – back South towards Gros Morne National Park, Corner Brook, Bay of Islands, Deer Lake, Twillingate. Of course, the pretty town of St. John’s followed this long sequence. We didn’t stop, as initially planned, in Terra Nova National Park and also skipped touring the Bonavista peninsula, because the weather was incredibly miserable, cold, and foggy. Locals said this is how the weather mostly is on the island, one just gets used to it. Yet the month before, July, was simply gorgeous, all nice and sunny, incredible blue skies, as many local mentioned.

After St. Johns, we rode to Placentia and embarked on a 16 hours ferry to Nova Scotia (North Sydney). Spent some interesting time on the Cape Breton Island, and then headed South, just East of Moncton, on Hwy 1, through Saint John, took the picturesque route 172 South towards Deer Island, followed by Campobello Island, all connected through small local ferries. The weather was golden. You could almost smell the fall, but it wasn’t there yet. Once at a small US crossing point, Lubec, we went past the border and continued down the coast. Eventually made it to Boston two days latter.

CowHead-NL

Now let’s go back to the story. This gorgeous sunset caught us on the shores of Cow Head (Gros Morne area), where we checked into a B&B right on the bay. The light outside was just amazing. It was incredibly quiet and it took me a little bit to realize that – for the first time in days – the wind had been silenced. As if everything that’s movable was emerged into a sacred ritual of sun admiration. Picture-like surroundings were merging into our eyes and, at the time the sun was just half above the sea, the light was of a vivid orange.

Pure happenstance, but we stayed in Cow Head during the Annual Gros Morne Theater Festival, showcasing Newfoundland talent. We wanted to go to the Neddy Norris Night, a great show by all reviews – but ended up feeling lazy and not going. And that’s too bad. If I will ever go back to Newfoundland, I’d like to stay in this little place for at least a week during the theater festival and breathe in the great atmosphere.

Corner Brook is nothing but a bigger city. All I remember is having a great dinner, some amazing sushi at Newfoundland Sushi (we had a Dory Load of Sushi for Two). The next morning, after a great hot breakfast our host at the Green Garden B&B graciously made for us, we hopped on our Honda CBF1000 and took a loop trip to see the Bay of Islands. It started like a fun day, beautiful blue sky, puffy clouds, nice sea food for lunch, all until we realized we have a flat on the back tire. But my hubby was ready and trained to use his super-kit and got it fixed in less then 1 hour, right there on the side of the highway. I can’t really give any technical details, but what’s certain is that today, more than 8,000 Km latter, he’s riding with the same back tire on. I guess he did a good job. TwillingateNFThe shore you see in this picture is in Twillingate – one of the most picturesque outports in Newfoundland, located on the centre edge of what is known as Iceberg Alley. Unfortunately, we haven’t seen any floating icebergs as July was too hot and they all melted. Yep. But to make up for that, we went to one of the local wineries, Auk Island Winery, and had tasted several amazing wines. Nope, I’m not going to tell you what happened after, but we did get a bottle of Aurora, a medium-dry white named after the Northern Lights, to enjoy at our B&B that night.

In St. John’s we had to change our Honda’s chain and sprockets. We knew this was coming since we were back in Corner Brook, where we stopped at a motorcycle shop, had them ordered and had the appointment booked at Honda 1 in St. John’s. It was a really great service and they had it ready for us in one hour, so we didn’t have to sacrifice too much time out of our site seeing. St. John’s is considered by some to be the oldest English-founded city in North America, but it was incorporated as a city only in 1921. It’s amazing to see how both old and new mingle in this small town, considered, of course, the largest city in Newfoundland. St.JohnsNFWe went to Cape Spear Lighthouse, and also to Signal Hill, and didn’t miss the famous George Street for some nightlife excitement. We had a good time, but I wouldn’t go that far and say that ‘this place is like no other’. Two days latter we headed to Placentia and embarked on the ferry to Nova Scotia. This was a fun trip: 16 hours, it’s almost like a cruise, only a lot more expensive – considering it’s just a night and you have to pay for all the restaurants.

Cape Breton Island was truly exquisite. If you ever plan to go to the East coast but only have a week or less, definitely do the trails here. We had a little bit of a story with the Canadian Automobile Association (CAA) and lost a day practically because of extremely bad customer service, but decided that we’re going to stay one more day and will complete the trails as we initially wanted. NSThe host at The Maven Gypsy B&B on the Cabot trail was originally from Vancouver, and I actually felt quite excited to finally hear some good ‘vancouverite’ accent. Accommodation was a great, welcoming atmosphere, plus really good breakfast – a bit pricey though. Well, I guess that’s what one pays for such a great location. There is so much more to say about all we’ve seen on our way to Boston. I really liked the two islands: Deer Island and Campobello Island. I’m not sure how the winter looks around there, I would imagine is a bit less romantic and more isolated, as one of the ferries is not working and the other has pretty irregular hours in the winter. But those definitely are gorgeous places to visit! Boston01Boston was phenomenal. We stayed at Marriott this time, left our motorcycle parked at the hotel and hopped on subway using a 7-Days pass. There is no way I could possible single out one thing I liked most about Boston, but probably the way people gather, talk, eat, smile, and listen to street performances made me think of Timisoara, the Romanian city of my Alma Mater university. Or maybe it’s just because there was something magical about it, something that made me forget about future plans and, like a gigantic hand, managed to hold me in the present – a beautiful one, where I was in a place like this with someone I love and it just felt good. It felt so good.

After Boston we split ways. I took a flight back to Vancouver, where my husband arrived one week latter after riding the motorcycle all the way back to BC. He had a nice tan and a victorious smile on his face, “I made it” he said, and went for a 20-hour long sleep.

Magdalena Mot

Newfoundland and Labrador: Back Seat Memories (I)

This past summer, we decided it’s worth spending our vacation at home, in Canada. Looking at the map, there were not too many provinces we haven’t been to so far and, by elimination, Newfoundland and Labrador was really the only one left on the map. Followed by the Territories. Looking at the very few roads (mostly unpaved) Labrador has, I thought… oh my! But it was adventure time. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately?) I didn’t realize until it was too late how wild some parts of Newfoundland (and especially Labrador) really are. As someone said before, on a trip you may get wet, cold, hungry, tired or even lost, but then you’re back home safe and you call it “adventure”.

And truth be told, I came back from this trip incredibly refreshed and fully energized. Memories of places, people, and stories are vivid and they overtake in both size and power any idea of a “fun all-inclusive” vacation type. These life experiences are slowly shaping us, as they travel with us towards reaching our own goals. What did we bring back this time? People. Nature. Life. A completely different look at what Canada – as a whole – really is. Shores like nowhere else. Sea food. Vikings village & trails. Boats. Lighthouses and their keepers. IMG_7921-smWhat I didn’t see that much of around was immigrants. Funny enough, I didn’t even notice this until after being in the province for over a week. Then I remembered how Newfoundland and Labrador have this Provincial Nominee Program (NLPNP) that works quite hard towards providing an alternate and quicker entry into Canada, allowing the Province to nominate applicants, a much quicker process for qualified skilled workers, international graduates, and their families who wish to permanently settle here. Yet we weren’t able to see many around.

Time for a little story. Just south of L’Anse aux Meadows, when we stopped to fill-up on gas, I went inside the convenience store to warm up and add an extra layer (it was 8 degrees Celsius on a beautiful August day at noon). Here, I’ve started a conversation with the store keeper, a lady in her late 50s, and her friend, who was keeping her company over a cup of coffee. Yes, they do have a funny accent and I had to pay close attention to make sure I understand, but when they asked me what I do for work and  I said I’m an employment counsellor, the store keeper was quite confused. Trying to help, I went on to tell her that I work in a program called “Skills Connect for Immigrants”. But this confused her even more: “immigrants”? – she asked. Too bad I couldn’t take a picture, her face looked priceless. Now, her girlfriend, who was more traveled (she actually visited Vancouver, as she proudly told me latter), joined us and said: “you know, they have lots of immigrants in the Vancouver area, and there are big communities with people from all over the world, thousands of them!” Poor store keeper was still looking at me in great disbelief. Then she confessed that she never in her life left the island (Newfoundland).

After this “convenience store conversation” I’ve started to look around more carefully and realized that not only there were not too many immigrants in the area, but also not too many young people, not too many children, and most likely not enough schools. The unemployment rate in the province (I learned later) is the highest in Canada. And so is the lack of literacy. Newfoundland and Labrador are now at a critical crossroad for addressing and advancing literacy skills, yet they need federal help; there are many provincial councils supporting this effort to help all people reach their full literacy potential. Yes, it’s different when you only read about it, but the news certainly make a bigger impact on us when we get to see it.

PicturesinNLPeople in Newfoundland are so friendly. Not one single sign of the Vancouverite-specific sophistication. I’ve heard many times about the old fashioned hospitality in this province, but it’s actually much better then I imagined. At a Bed & Breakfast we stayed in the Red Bay area (http://www.grenfellbandb.ca), our hosts knew we were coming on a motorcycle from Happy Valley-Goose Bay, and they knew it has been raining the whole day, with miserable cold winds, and they also knew we were getting across over 560 KM of unpaved roads (as part of our Trans-Labrador Hwy Adventure). Well, as a welcome, they’ve started a fire in this cast iron wood stove inside their beautiful backyard gazebo, white and tall, with large windows and glass doors. Here, we were invited to hang to dry our motorcycle rain suits, boots, and gloves – all on a long rope the host has fastened across the gazebo’s wooden ceiling. That’s what locals do when they return form a stormy fishing day at sea, we were told, it’s quite standard procedure. Then, to be able to walk back to the house through the mushy-wet emerald-green grass, we were provided with these huge rubber clogs. Their beautiful house, a historic building, served as a Nursing Station back in 1930s. As I stepped in, I suddenly forgot I was covered in wet mud just an hour ago. I forgot we had to use a hose at a gas station nearby to clean ourselves up before checking in. I forgot all of that. The world felt, all of a sudden, strangely light, like I was 12 again. A girl coming back into her grandma’s warm kitchen after running through a summer storm. A soaking-wet redhead, with lots of freckles, and shiny blue eyes (yes, just like Anne of Green Gables). They were waiting for us with hot tea and biscuits. Each room was decorated with thrilling quilted covers and ivory embroideries. Slightly squawking hardwood, warm floors, sparkling clean bedsheets, it all felt like heaven. I even found mini chocolates on the elegantly wrapped king bed. After a long warm bath, I slept like an angel. When I woke up in the morning I ran straight to the window. The ocean was beautiful, but really stormy. Wait, what? Raining and windy again? It was raining pretty bad, but so beautiful. I decided I was going to just ignore the weather. Downstairs, in an elegant dining room, at a long table seating twelve, decorated with beautiful china and a generously overflowing fruit platter, our hostess Peggy was making breakfast. The smell was mouthwatering. I poured myself some hot black coffee and enjoyed looking at the rain outside while chatting with our hostess. Out in the rain, my husband was upping pressure in the tires, to change firmness as appropriate for the paved road ahead. Our Honda CBF 1000 did very well so far. Such a reliable and nimble motorcycle. No more unpaved roads ahead (at least that’s what I thought at the time), so I said to myself: happy birthday girl, you’re on the other side of the world!

Grateful, dry, and full of hope, we loaded up our stuff after breakfast and headed off to the Blanc Sablon (QC) ferry to cross over to St. Barbe (NL). This was just a quick two-hour ride. Here is where we said “Good bye” to Labrador. A couple of peculiar facts about this ferry: even if Blanc Sablon is practically in Quebec, the ferry operates by Newfoundland Standard Time (NST), plus one must make a reservation no matter what, and the staff here is not exactly motorcycle friendly (those who are used to our BC Ferries know what I’m talking about). Anyhow, we made it to St. Barbe, it was still raining on the island, still windy, but we managed to brace up an had a nice and dry afternoon in L’Anse aux Meadows, where we checked in at Viking Village Bed and Breakfast. A rather elegant dinner of authentic Newfoundland sea food followed to celebrate by birthday.

DailyCatchNLIf you’d like to read about more Newfoundland adventures, follow a 16-hour long ferry crossing to Nova Scotia and a beautiful East-coast style ride to Boston in the second part of this travel story.

Arriving to Vancouver

Flying to Canada for the first time, to Vancouver more precisely, was a different experience for each of us (and I mean a small family of three: myself, my husband, and our son). It happened over 10 years ago. To our son, whose age was still counted in months at the time, this sure was just one of those trips mom drags him on. Being used to be on the go from day one, he didn’t really get all the fuss and so this time around was no different. To me, honestly, there was lots of trying to enjoy it, as much as a young mother could. I’ve been only minimally involved in the planning of the trip and there were simply too many things I didn’t know. Plus, I didn’t really speak English at the time. That loaded statement “you’re changing your life forever” flew by my ears and I don’t recall it. But there was this very sad picture of our parents saying good-bye at the airport in Timisoara, Romania. At the time I didn’t realize how sad their faces were. Even though we were moving to Vancouver from Munich (Germany) we decided to take three weeks off and we went to spend some time with our parents before flying away.

So let’s go back to arriving here. Well, to my husband, this whole trip was a whole different story. As he was watching over the Rockies from his window seat (and it was a beautiful sunny day) I noticed how he was barely breathing. I remember feeling somehow annoyed. He was living a dream, I was too preoccupied with our little son to even get a sense of how big this step was for us. First day of May. I didn’t understand much at the time, even though I thought I did. The plan was to move to Canada, so we were moving. All the invisible wheels turning behind this gigantic mechanism were not my troubles I thought. And that’s how my life has changed. Forever.

A friend was very kind and picked us up at YVR. I remember how different my first impression was. Things seemed small. With heavy eyes I was watching out of the van’s windows at what I thought was really ugly architecture. Of course, I didn’t know it’s impossible to see anything pretty on your way from the airport. Then we arrived at their condo in North Vancouver and I fell in love with the Lion’s Gate bridge view from their balcony. I remember sitting there with a glass of wine starring at it the whole evening. We were so lucky to have such gracious hosts!

Two days later, back on the go, we moved our luggage into a rented car and embarked on a two weeks’ road-trip around British Columbia – our very first Canadian journey. The plan was to stop for the first night at a hidden in the forest cottage on Sheridan Lake, then stay a couple of days in Prince George (as I had to visit UNBC), drive on Yellowhead towards Jasper and the national park with the same name, stop for three days in Edmonton, then Calgary, then stop in Banff for a couple of days. We drove north on the Ice Fields Parkway towards Mt. Athabasca, did some hiking, and came back to Lake Louise (which I fell in love with, forever). On our way back to Vancouver we stopped at Yoho National Park, then spend a night in Revelstoke, and Kelowna was our last stop before returning to North Vancouver. I still remember pretty well many of the amazing Bed & Breakfast locations we stayed at throughout this trip. They have added that local flavor to the evening tea or to our breakfast time, allowing us to engage with our hosts and to learn about the local culture. I recall wondering at the time what was so particular about the Canadian culture. Why do people have so much fun saying ‘eh?’ at the end of pretty much every question? But it’s true, this trip helped us see how huge, how beautiful, and also how delicate British Columbia, our new home, is. Even though I didn’t provide much insight here about our each stay, especially in Prince George, I hope to come back here someday and write more about our first road-trip in Canada.

419

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I didn’t know what 419 means – or that internet scams coming from the streets and backwaters of Nigeria may have a name, until reading Will Ferguson’s 419. The author takes you from a car accident in Calgary all the way into the bizarre criminal gangland of Nigeria’s 419 Internet scams (named after a section of the Nigerian criminal code dealing with obtaining funds illegally). I was surprised by the novel’s unreserved gravity, rhetorical questions, and by the way Laura, a Canadian copy editor, takes action and tracks down the men who ruined her father. A good read, truly recommended.