WorldWideWaterCooler

When we left on our trip, we were armed with only a bunch of ideas, a guide book, our airline tickets, 1 small backpack each. No checked luggage, no advance bookings.

It was awesome.

Starting the trip, we were expecting the typical mediocre flight, and began to expect the worst when we arrived at the airport to find our airline didn’t have any of the automated check-in kiosks we’ve become so used to. We stood in line for about an hour to finally check in, and our hearts sank a little further when we received boarding passes with row 82 on them. EIGHTY TWO! Do they even make planes that long? Were we sitting on the tailwing?

Turns out 82 is a very good row when you’re in a 747 with EVA Air! They have their airplanes configured so the upper deck of the 747 is still economy class. There are only about 10 rows up there of 3 & 3. There’s plenty of storage, including a bonus space of side-stowage next to the windows, and with so few people it’s really quiet. Score.

If you’re flying from here to Asia, I’ll heartily recommend EVA (hub in Taiwan). The plane was clean and comfortable. The food was highly edible. The service was lovely (especially the attendant who brought us earplugs when there was a screaming child for a few hours) and the price was certainly right.

After an uneventful flight, we landed in Bangkok and found our way to the taxi stand. Our plan was to head to the train station and catch the night train to Chiang Mai to spend the first week of our trip in the North.

We’d done a lot of reading about transport in Thailand, and were ready when the Taxi driver (as expected) didn’t turn on his meter, and tried to take us out of the way to his “friend’s business” to sell us train tickets, instead of to the train station.

We didn’t manage to insist on the meter, and paid about 550 THB for a 300 THB ride (about $7 too much), but we did persevere and insisted on buying our tickets at the train station. Not too bad for our first attempted hosing. And we weren’t taken in again by anyone else.

The train station is very near to the Chinatown area of town, and we had about 5 hours to kill before our train boarded, so we ditched our bags at the luggage holding area and wandered off to explore.

Bangkok, especially Chinatown, is… not for the newbie or the faint of heart. It is busy and loud and chaotic. The sidewalks are covered in food stalls and sidewalk vendors. But don’t walk in the streets, that’s just suicide with the array of trucks, cars, scooters & tuktuks whizzing by in a crazed ballet where lines on the road are just suggestions.

We lasted a few hours in the heat and mayhem, and headed back to the train station to wait the last couple hours before our train left.

The train ride was one of my favourite parts of the trip. The State Railway of Thailand is the longest metre-gauge rail system in the world, and a very efficient and economic way of getting around the country. We booked a 1st-class sleeper car for about $70 for the two of us to make the overnight journey.

We had our own car with a couch that folded up into bunk beds. We had dinner & breakfast service, sheets and pillows delivered to us and collected in the morning. It further solidified my love of rail travel. Don’t worry, that all gets torn apart in a future story.

Next though, our week in Chiang Mai.

post from Neil, because *I* would never be so smug…

But hey, it’s good that your snow will finally stop melting so fast!

dear internets,

thank you for calling! we are off galavanting through Thailand, and can’t take your call.

while we’re away, eat your vegetables, scrub behind your ears, don’t give the housesitter any trouble, and don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!

see you in march!

much love, chez watercooler

Neil and I are planning on spending about a week of our 20-day vacation soaking up the sun on a Thai beach. Obviously we can’t see and do everything with the time we’ve got, so we’d like to head for one major beach area and stick with it for ultimate relaxation, rather than trying to cover multiple coasts and islands.

Problem is, we can’t decide which of the 3 major beach areas to go to!

So, for all of you who’ve been to the fine Kingdom of Thailand, would like to go, or have heard stories from others who’ve gone, please vote in the poll below: which beach should we aim for?

Our ultimate goal is relaxation. We don’t need cable or internet, though running water and a private, en suite bathroom are mandatory. It would also be great if there were diving and/or snorkeling available, and some areas or trails for nature walks.

We don’t want to be in a tourist trap, but we do demand good food is around, preferably with a few different dining options. They can all be Thai of course; tasting different chef’s interpretations of the local food is what keeps things interesting.

So, let ‘er rip! Where would you go? And even if you don’t have any Thailand-specific advice, what do you look for in a vacation destination?

When I was invited to an event from the fine folks at Preventable (@preventable on twitter) last night on winter sport safety, I found the timing quite fortuitous. I’m heading to Sun Peaks over New Years for a ski vacation, and being the utter wuss that I am, I was definitely interested in knowing how to keep my self intact and injury free while I’m there.

The point behind the Preventable campaign (run by the Community Against Preventable Injuries) is to have us all thinking a bit more about how, when and where we place ourselves at risk. It’s all about what British Columbians can do to prevent injury, not what they shouldn’t do.

I’ll admit, I’ve been participating in snow sports in one form or another for the better part of the last two decades, and I’ve never ever worn a helmet. Biking, sure. Rollerblading, yep. Snowboarding? No.

It’s not for any good reason – I’ve just never thought I needed one. I don’t ride aggressively, I don’t go out in terrible conditions, I don’t bother going through the trees and I’ve never even sniffed at the back country.

Turns out, none of that actually matters.

You probably remember actress Natasha Richardson’s fatal ski accident from last spring, caused by a seemingly innocuous fall on the bunny hill. It’s estimated by the Brain Injury Association of Canada that nearly 50% of all skiing and snowboarding head injuries could be prevented by simply wearing a helmet.

Of course there are plenty of other injuries one could sustain through an accident on the slopes – but why make brain injury one of them?

In the meantime, I’m now going to try and right this wrong (because I’m awfully fond of my brain, addled as it may be) and get a helmet to see me through this season’s round of adventures on the slopes.

Anyone have any recommendations for favourite helmet models (ASTM or Snell certified, natch) or local vendors?

Other potential titles: Concert Curator, Music Maven, Showtime Superstar. Whatever floats your boat.

Duties:

Requirements:

Bonus Qualifications:

Remuneration:

Those who would suggest big-name concerts in large venues and country music fans need not apply.

(inspired by Darren’s ticket-stub photo set of all the show’s he’s seen this decade)

Hello Poppets!

(Mrs. Doubtfire happened to be on TV the other day.)

I hope you had a sublime time ringing in 2009 – Neil and I certainly did.

We headed down to Seattle via the Quick Shuttle, mostly to see the Presidents of the United States of America on New Year’s Eve, and stayed at Hotel Max.

(Note: I have no incentive to write about Quick Shuttle, or the Hotel Max, other than the fact that I was looking for some info about Seattle, and the google-fu didn’t produce much of what I was looking for – hopefully this post may help someone else out with that.)

We’d never taken the bus down to Seattle before, but it’s a super good deal from Vancouver if you’re the patient sort. The driving bit isn’t so bad, especially with the (slow, but adequate) free WiFi on the bus. But the border crossing is fairly terrible.

Super-interrogations for all – it took us 90 minutes to clear the bus into the USA. Thankfully heading home was better.

So now I”m thinking the bus must be the people/goods smuggling transport mode of choice for people attempting to flee into our out of a country. I’d love to see some customs stats on that. But the bus was incredibly affordable ($98 CAD round-trip for the both of us) considering we’d have ended up renting a car and paying for gas & parking. If you’re staying downtown in Seattle you can definitely walk everywhere, so consider it.

Anyhow, we made it to our destination pretty easily, all things considered, and checked into the charming Hotel Max.

I was ever so slightly worried about staying at that particular hotel. They’ve priced themselves at about 40%-60% of what the other major chains I’d stay at are charging in that neighbourhood (Sheraton, Westin, Marriott, W, Coast), and I’d read a few negative reviews about the size of the rooms and bathrooms.

I needn’t have worried.

Yes, the rooms are teensy, but only comparatively. Compared to those other properties I’d stay at in Seattle? Yes. Tiny. Compared to the W in Times Square? Same size. Well, the bathroom was smaller. But I’ve seen bathrooms just as small in London and Korea (there is about 1 square foot available to stand in, between the small sink, toilet, and shower stall – no tub here).

My few complaints have everything to do with the fact that it’s an old building. The walls and windows are thin. It gets noisy. Also, the window-mounted heating/cooling unit is loud. But the rest of the hotel is so charming and well-appointed that it didn’t really matter. Also, I was on a leisure trip, which made some small inconveniences a bit easier to take.

And for all that, Presidents of the United States of America put on one of the most fun live shows I’ve seen in a very long time.

It was a great way to usher in 2009, and if that sets the tone for the rest of the year, it’s going to be a very good one indeed.

(photo courtesy of Mel)

All in all, a not-too-shabby way to ring in my 28th year.

**Note** I’ve been working on this post for a few days, still not happy with it, but having just signed up to volunteer at BarCamp in September, figure I should probably do the social media thing and blog already.

I went to my 10-year High School reunion this past weekend.

It was, in a word, surreal.

I’m not sure what I’d expected of my graduating class – maybe that everyone had moved up and out and changed as much as I think I have since High School. Maybe that I’d be surprised and everyone was wildly happy and successful.

But really, everyone was exactly the same.

The people who seemed most likely to succeed have certainly done that (and it was nice to reconnect with some of them), and those who seemed to have no particular path they were following are still meandering along without any indication of much purpose.

I went to High School in a pretty small town 2 hours outside Vancouver. Population about 8,000. My graduating class was one of the bigger groups in recent history at 97 students. After I left, I kept in touch with exactly no one.

And I’m trying to write this without coming off as a complete asshole, but I think I’m going to fail – so I may as well just go for it.

A great number of people back there are seriously fucked up.

Normal there is to not bat an eye when people have multiple babies with multiple partners.

Normal there is to hold no curiosity of the world at large, and to aim only as high as next weekend, where levels of drunkenness will be compared to those of weeks before.

Normal there is to go to the local bar, and have the unease of feeling like a brawl could start up any second, because that’s just how disagreements are dealt with.

Normal there is to have truly peaked at 18, and still live life as if that’s how old one still is.

And sure, everyone laughs at Blue Collar Comedy thinking “heh, amusing, but this is made up. People aren’t actually that backwards or ignorant.” Newsflash: they are.

I moved there one week shy of my 13th birthday, having just started to figure out what I want out of life. I was stunned and disappointed at the lack of possibility and potential I was suddenly surrounded with. I also wasn’t particularly shy about my disappointment with where I’d landed at the time, which made me a social pariah for most of my time there.

I guess over the years I lived there I got a bit used to it – but damn, the confusion and alarm and just wrongness of it all smacked me in the face all over again when I returned.

So yes, it’s completely judgemental of me – but, to put it mildly, even though I spent 5 of the most formative years of my life in that town with that crowd: they are not my people, I do not belong, I’d rather never go back.

Has anyone else had as traumatic an experience with their High School reunion?

In all the travel I’ve done, I’ve noticed one near constant (at least in North America):

Cars that take you to the airport (especially when they’re pre-arranged) are generally very nice. In Vancouver I always end up with a nice, new, clean cab. In other cities I’ve had everything from nice taxis and shuttle vans to Town Cars and Escalades.

In contrast, the cars that pick passengers up from the airport are generally god-awful and potentially dangerous.

We had one van-cab in Orlando where, when the side door was slid open, it FELL OFF.

Without fail, whenever I end up queueing for a taxi at an airport, the taxis are crap and the drivers are surly. And it still completely affects my impression of the city (even though I always discover that these dirty deathtraps are usually the exception rather than the rule).

But it’s always the worst when I come home. I know how the taxis here work. I know that out of the dozen or so cab companies that service the area (and thus the airport) there are only four that are licensed for pickups in Vancouver proper. And none of them are ever waiting at the airport taxi stand.

Instead there are taxis from the surrounding suburbs: Burnaby, Surrey, Delta, Richmond. And when I get in one of those cabs (because as an arriving passenger at the taxi stand, I must simply hop in the car that’s next in line), I inevitably get an incredibly cranky driver. He now has to drive my ass all the way out to the West side of the city and then back either to the airport or his licensed pick-up area, fare-free.

And yes, driver, I understand that part of things certainly sucks. But it’s not my problem that you’re doing to have to do at least $60 worth of driving for the $30 I’m going to give you. So quick being a cranky dick and just get me home.

Anyone out there able to explain the crappy arrivals cab phenomenon?

There have been a few times when people have asked me “how’s married life” and I’ve answered “Uh… I’m not really sure.” I’m sortof joking because for the most part I think married life is grand and really not that different from living in sin (with a delightful lack of disapproving “tut tuts” from those who, well, disapproved of living in sin).

We also joke that there’s no way we could know, considering that since we’ve been married, we’ve spent more time apart than together. While we’ve both been travelling far more than usual, we didn’t actually think that was true. But this latest round of voyages have been getting me down, so I started doing the math (because I have nothing better to do while sitting in yet another hotel room).

Neil and I were married on March 29th. We left for our Honeymoon the next day and returned to Vancouver on April 19th. I left for my first business trip on April 20th, and it’s been pretty nonstop for both of us since then.

I’ve taken five trips for a total of 34 days away from home since the honeymoon.

Neil’s taken two for a total of 13 days, plus a 9-day trip starting Saturday for a grand total of 22 days away from home by the end of July.

That means the two of us have been home together for all of twenty-nine days in the 3 months we’ve been married. The longest stretch during that time was 16 days.

Sure, you can add the four days in Orlando when Neil flew out to visit over a weekend while I was on an extended trip there, which brings our total “together time” to 33 days.

And you can even count the 22 days we spent on our honeymoon. But as of the 27th of July, the first day we’re both home again for at least a week, that would still bring us to 55 days. One day short of the 56 days we’ll have spent apart.

And frankly, that kindof sucks.

I’m now more used to sleeping alone than in bed with my husband. Which means I sleep like garbage when we’re together, making me grouchy and not particularly pleasant.

We’ve been trying to go out for a nice dinner (I’ve pegged the tasting menu at West, and an evening at Raincity Grill as my top two goals) ever since we got home from the honeymoon – but for the time we’ve been home together, we’ve been exhausted and sick of eating in restaurants anyhow.

The dog is turning completely neurotic (goldies are notoriously sensitive, and don’t like it when their entire pack isn’t around), and now goes away to pout and whine every time a suitcase comes out.

Between moving and unpacking in January, chaos through preparing for the wedding, and the chaos of just never being home since the wedding, our house is in complete shambles. We’ve been in eating/sleeping/laundry survival mode, and feels less homey than most of the hotel rooms I end up staying in. Case in Point: we’ve lived there for six months, and just hung some art last weekend because we couldn’t stand it anymore.

And the reality is, it doesn’t look like the situation is going to change any time soon.

We thought August and September would finally give us a break, but Neil’s got at least two weeks of trips during that time. I don’t have anything scheduled yet, but with a new project on the horizon, that could all change. And I’m definitely out of town again for at least two weeks, maybe three, in October/November.

But don’t let that fool you into thinking I’m complaining!

I love the work I do. I love the travel component. I love seeing new cities and managing events around the continent.

I do not love that I have not quite figured out how to stay sane during the in-between times. I do not love that I feel so disconnected from my partner these days.

So anyone who travels a lot and wants to weigh in on how you stay grounded and functional with your partner and family – I’d certainly appreciate it!

And for those who’ve seen me, and noticed I’ve been a bit on the cranky side, it’s only because I felt like my life was being turned a bit inside out.

Because it is. And I’m still figuring out how to right it.

Cruise Ship Passengers
Make the worst airplane seatmates
DEPLANE ALREADY

Return home to find
My plants all look dead, again.
Hubby can’t water

The dog smells real bad
But it’s still so very nice
To be home with her

Houston is a place
I could be very happy
Never to return

So good to be home
Unfortunately Next Week
I’m away again

Oh Orlando. City of sunshine, swamps and serious mediocrity. Where every meal is a different flavor of Denny’s and the monotony of flat, mushy landscape is only interrupted by yet another timeshare or theme park.

The one upside to being stuck in Orlando for fourteen entire days is that Neil flew down for the weekend, and we got to experience a few of the Disney parks: Animal Kingdom, Epcot and Typhoon Lagoon.

Having a family and social circle completely devoid of people between the ages of 3-13, it’s been a VERY long time since I’ve paid attention to anything coming out of the Disney franchise. I do have extremely fond memories of going to Disneyland in California in 1994, and considering I was a surly teenager and went out of my way to ensure I wouldn’t have fond memories of anything, my return visit to Disney had a lot to live up to.

And oh how Animal Kingdom delivered! The immersion experience of feeling like one is in a “place” that is anywhere other than the everyday is in full-effect in this park. The staff cast have been fully brainwashed into being exceedingly friendly and helpful without being annoying, and the rides and shows are top-notch. The park isn’t as ride-intensive as the Magic Kingdom, so I felt like I really had a great experience for the one day we spent there.

The Typhoon Lagoon waterpark was also very well done as far as water-parks go. MASSIVE waves in the wave-pool, fun slides and the popular lazy-river of innertubes circling the park. A great place to beat the heat for the day. Complete with slushy, alcoholic drinks readily available.

It all makes me wonder, what the hell happened to Epcot?

I know when Epcot was built, it was supposed to be all “futuristic” and whatnot, but what was probably designed for futuristic minimalism just turned out to be awfully barren and desolate between the pavillions. I did not feel like I was somewhere special.

But even that wasn’t so bad when compared to the advertising.

Now I know that any Disney experience is an exercise in absorbing advertising in and of itself. But Epcot pushes it a step further with entire attractions and pavillions sponsored by big-ticket advertisors who don’t want you to forget it!

The “Honey I Shrunk the Audience” 3D show was preceeded by a full 10-minute video by Kodak urging us all to “take more pictures” because “pictures trigger memories” (note: Neil and I didn’t actually bring a camera to any of our Disney experience, preferring just to enjoy, rather than document). After the attraction, the audience was shunted through to a Kodak store, where everyone can take photos and purchase cameras, memory, batteries, etc.

Same story with the Test Track ride – sponsored by GM, everyone is subjected to a video about how GM has innovated testing to make your car safe, then the fun roller-coaster-ride bit, then the audience exits first through a full GM Showroom (complete with window-stickers showing features and MSRP info) then the Test Track store where you can buy a model hummer or T-shirt with a hummer on it, or 12 different kinds of GM/Disney antenna balls.

And it goes on and on. The Coca Cola Cool Zone. HP’s Mission: Space. The Nestle Food Scientists presenting Living with the Land. Siemens’ IllumiNations fireworks show at the end of the night (complete with Laser images and gobos of the Siemens logo projected everywhere).

As far as I’m aware, Disney isn’t in any danger of going broke, and those attractions could certainly be “made possible” without the “generous grants” from the title sponsors. I expect that of the local $11/day admission PNE, not the $67/day admission Disney. For that amount of cash, I expect to be impressed and at Epcot, I just wasn’t. At all.

I think Walt would actually sigh and roll over in his cryogenic container if he were re-animated to see what had happened to Epcot.

One of the special programs you can sign up for at Disney is to dine with one of their Imagineers – something I’d love to do if/when I return to the parks. With products like the original Magic Kingdom, and the new Animal Kingdom, I’m fascinated with how their team dynamics work, bringing together the expertise to create experiences that make even me not mind the fact that I’m in a fenced-in area with thousands of other people’s children.

If I manage to have a chat with an Imagineer in the future, I now have another question to add to my list: what on earth prompted your talented team to just abandon Epcot, and make the fatal mistake of leaving the entire park in the hands of marketing and sponsorship revenue?

Part One Here.

Outside of Marrakech, most of the rest of the country was kindof a blur. We caught many of the highlights: The palace in Rabat (no photos allowed), The art deco and impressive Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca, the incredible souks of Fes, the dunes of Erg Chebbi and more Kasbahs than I can actually remember.

Our entire time there, though, there was one overarching feeling – you’re not really welcome here, but your money is, so hand it over and kindly piss off. It’s probably partly because we had our experience orchestrated through a travel agency (we’d booked through GAP Adventures, who then sub-contract to local agencies in Morocco), but we were shuttled from tourist trap to tourist trap, and probably spent a lot more on the trip (especially food) than was really necessary. We did expect to pay the tourist tax though, so we weren’t too surprised and didn’t kick up much of a fuss.

We were also prepared for beggars and scammers, and I actually got kindof used to small children grabbing my back pants pockets in crowded areas feeling for a wallet. And we even realized that sometimes it’s helpful to give a kid a few dirhams once we’d given up trying to navigate our way back to our riad from the middle of the souks. What I wasn’t prepared for was the dressing down by teenaged boys for not giving them enough money for essentially nothing.

I’m sure it’s not uncommon, but there seemed to be very little knowledge of what the value of a dollar (or in their case Euro as the conversion currency of choice) really is for the average person. There is just a sense of “you have money and I don’t, so hand some over.” We were berated and abused more than once for not handing over the equivalent of about 20 Euros (at least) for anything from pointing us in the right direction, to vehemently insisting Neil have a seat on a rickety stool while waiting outside a Hammam for me – then not letting Neil leave without handing over money in repayment for a seat he didn’t want or need in the first place.

Things may be different in smaller towns, but the residual bitterness the Moroccans we met still have from the French and Spanish occupation, as well as the current disdain for white tourists of any sort makes me think aiming for 10,000 tourists/year by 2010 might just backfire.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful country, and I’m still really, really glad we went. We did meet some lovely people during our time there who were pleased and proud to share their culture, heritage and country with us – they just seemed to be the exception rather than the rule.

I’ve got some really great and really fond memories of the place – but I also know that with a whole world out there to explore, I didn’t fall in love with it and I’ll probably never go back. And that’s a bit of a strange feeling to have.

If you’re following my facebook or twitter (the line between the two is increasingly blurring these days), you might have seen that I posted about finally uploading the honeymoon photos. After sorting through 10 gigs of pictures, I think I managed to put a pretty good selection on flickr.

I was going to attempt to pull a Darren Barefoot and share no more than my favorite three – but I couldn’t narrow it down quite that far. I’ve managed to cull it down to (in my opinion) the best seven, spread across two blog posts. And I’ll try to share some of the more poignant and less boring memories of the trip between them.

Of the four major cities in Morocco we visited (Marrakech, Casablanca, Rabat, Fes), Marrakech was where we spent the most time (5 nights) and became far and away our favorite (and where we ended up chowing down on the most exotic edibles during our time in the country – including a roast mutton head. The verdict: tasty, but less meat than I’d have thought). True to form, the Marrakchis are some of the most laid back and welcoming people we found in Morocco, and it was where we felt most welcome.

We also fell in love with the Djeema El Fna – a gigantic square of storytellers, snake charmers, hustlers, juice sellers, food stalls and more. It’s not so much that the square itself is remarkable – you can find similar fare in markets all over the world – but this one has been carrying on, almost exactly the same as it always has been, for thousands of years. It’s not something that was put together for tourists, it just is.

You can see it in the way the biggest crowds always amass around the storytellers. We’d heard a great deal about the fabled storytellers of Morocco – how their stories weave two or three plotlines together, but stop just short of actually reaching, or even implying a conclusion: that’s the job of the audience.

We’d read translations of a few stories, both before and during our trip, but not knowing any Arabic, we couldn’t possibly understand what crazy and convoluted circumstances the grizzled old man was weaving together at the center of the circle in the middle of the plaza. But judging from the animated way he made faces, intonated his voice, wrapped his body around his words and absolutely captivated the audience of 20 or so men gathered around him – it had to have been something good.

And this was just one of the more subtle reminders to us, as tourists, that “this is not for you, you do not belong.”