WorldWideWaterCooler

Those playing along at home are likely going “Huh? I had no idea you WERE moving.” I know. And now we’re not. Not exactly news, but it’s been a big albatross around my neck for a little while. Now that there’s an ending to the story, I feel compelled to write it down – both to capture the (non)experience for when I go back and check what I was doing in July 2010, and to close that particular chapter in my brain.

We very nearly moved to England. We’d have been leaving in a month. Neil had an offer from his existing company to go over and work on a project that was based over there. But for various reasons to do with the job and the project it went rapidly from being a very good idea to a really not so good one. So we’re not going.

I am simultaneously delighted and disappointed that we’re staying.

To be fair, I was also delighted and disappointed at the idea of moving. So many things I felt would be left undone here. Moving an ocean away from family. Leaving my job here. The excitement of a new adventure.

Now I just get to flip all those. Moving forward on projects here. More time with family. Staying on at my job. No big adventure.

It feels a bit like a zero sum game – but I can’t quite process that zero sum doesn’t equal zero emotion.

It’s amazing how much non-action can be an emotional roller coaster.

Of course we thought it wise to keep our moving news mostly to ourselves while all the details sorted themselves out. Neil still needed to get through some challenging times with his team at work. I didn’t want to rock the boat unnecessarily at work, or give up my job on the off (and now actual)-chance we didn’t go after all.

But at the same time, we were running around like crazy people in semi-secret, trying to sort out the details of international relocation.

Passport and visa research. Calls with our accountant about tax implications. Vet appointments to jump through the hoops to relocate our dog with us. Sorting out details of renting our condo. Working through the financial implications of an undetermined amount of time living off one salary rather than two. Putting off and pushing aside projects we had planned for here that were no longer practical in the face of relocation.

It’s been stressful. And while I thought pushing the reset button would alleviate some of that, it’s really just changed it.

Tying up loose ends and changing direction on some of our financial plans to reflect staying rather than going. Re-starting the fires under the projects we had snuffed. Figuring out what the rest of our year looks like, now that it’s in Vancouver rather than Oxford.

It’s ultimately good. Not only in a “good, we’ve sorted out this important life-event” way, but in a “this has forced us to re-evaluate what we’re doing here and what’s important” way, but in the meantime feels very strange.

I have no good ending for this.

Neil and I have been in New Orleans for the past few days, and it’s entirely amazing here. But our trip started off with something that I was even more surprised about: incredible service from United Airlines.

Anyone I know who flies with any regularity gripes about most domestic carriers. Myself included. And we all know that United Breaks Guitars. But a couple people working for United at YVR last Wednesday changed that for me.

We had an early flight, and were running a bit late in the morning. We have NEXUS passes, so never really sweat the lineups. The one big difference this time – we had a bag to check. The other issue? Online check-in wasn’t working when we tried it before leaving in the morning.

Check-in at the airport had been cut off 10 minutes before we arrived. That means we still had 50 minute before boarding (80 before takeoff) to clear security and get to the gate. We scampered over to the United desk, hopeful that we could grab our boarding passes and maybe have time to grab coffee at Starbucks after security before boarding. We weren’t worried.

Until we were subjected to the worst customer service person in the world. To be clear, she is not who I’m praising here. We got where we were going in spite of her. I would not wish for her to die in a fire, but I would wish for her to be decommissioned enough to never inflict her special brand of uselessness on anyone else ever again.

We stood as the 2nd people in her line for another 20 minutes, while she made molasses in January look like a contender for the Belmont stakes. When we finally made it to her desk, she just said “oh, there’s nothing I can do, you’re REALLY late (as if she hadn’t been ignoring us waiting for her for 20 minutes), made a big show of how terrible it was for us that we were checking a piece of luggage, and moved us to a flight three hours later, with a four hour layover, finally getting us to our destination 8 hours later than we’d intended.

I was not a happy camper.

We checked the bag that was apparently holding us back from our rightful seats, went through security and wandered down to the gate our plane was supposed to be leaving from. It was still 3 minutes from the scheduled takeoff.

And that’s when the heavens opened, the sun shone, an angel chorus rang out and the universe delivered unto us a saint named Laura.

Neil made small talk with her about how we were supposed to be on that plane right there outside the window, and she looked at us in total disbelief that her daft colleague hadn’t put us on it. You see, our plane was delayed about 10 minutes because it was late coming in and was still fueling. I find it hard to believe the pedantic twat at the check-in desk didn’t know that, but I’m no expert in airline operations.

We mentioned it was because we had a bag to check and that the desk staff were adamant that there was no way it would make it onto our plane (and with the post 9/11 security rules, you aren’t allowed to intentionally fly on a different aircraft than your luggage).

She made a radio call and in seconds had a response that our bag was indeed there, waiting for our later flight, and they redirected it onto our original plane for us. She printed the boarding passes and ushered us onto the plane. All this took her less than five minutes. Once seated, we sat on the runway for another 20 minutes waiting for fueling & maintenance checks to be finished.

In all the flights I’ve taken I have never, ever missed one. I was not eager to add that particular stripe to my record, and thanks to Laura at YVR gate 76 on Wednesday morning, I haven’t yet.

So you all can go ahead and dis United (and other domestic carriers) all you like. But as long as there are people like Laura working for them, I’m going to keep my mouth shut (and set my alarm 20-minutes earlier next time!).

My job for the past number of years has been marketing technology products.

For the most part I love it – the amazing ways people are finding to manipulate machines to improve lives (even if it doesn’t always work out that way) is fascinating. The communities are exciting; the innovation is inspiring. I love the feeling I get when someone discovers our products, engages with us as a company, and is profoundly thankful that what we do has made them better at what they do.

And then I try to explain to my grandmother what I do.

“Well, many businesses buy a really big software system to run everything at their companies, like hiring and bookkeeping and inventory, and the software we build helps one of those pieces work better…”

“I tell people about the software we make and show them how it can help them make the most of this other software they have….”

“How? I build calculators to show that spending $40,000 can save them $80,000 and go to user groups to share ideas and write papers and presentations to explain the technology and….”

“Yes, I’m sortof a writer. No, it’s not like writing a book or for newspapers and magazines. Mostly it goes through email.”

My job, in my grandmother’s eyes, is reduced to writing (sortof) and sending email. And she still doesn’t understand why I didn’t go work in a bookstore.

So I think it’s understandable that when I can get out of the magical world of ones and zeros and make something that I can point to, touch, have aches and blisters from building, and whose form and function are plainly obvious to anyone, anywhere in the world, I get pretty excited.

Over the past long weekend, we fenced in our pig pen! Pigs arrive first week of June.

As I get further and further away from work that anyone understands, I get more and more satisfaction from things that everyone can relate to.

We spent the first part of our trip in Chiang Mai, only because it seemed the easiest place to start in terms of available transport options. In hindsight, it was an excellent way to acclimate ourselves to the temperature and customs of Thailand in a slightly cooler and fairly low-pressure environment.

Highlights (because if I don’t reduce this to bullet-esque blips, I’ll never write it):

Chiang Mai Sausage! Regional Delicacy!

Dr. Fish Fish Spa! Tiny fish eat the dead skin off your feet! (Ticklish Neil’s verdict? “I would make a TERRIBLE hippo!” So true my love, so true.)

Street Meat!

Cooking School! Two days, ten dishes, countless chillies, VERY full bellies. A foodie’s dream, we LOVED this part of the trip.

I ate an ant larvae. They have no flavour, but do go “pop” when they burst in your mouth!

Elephants!

Bamboo Rafting. Unremarkable, except to note that shortly after this shot was taken, I had to duck quickly around a large tree branch (or land in the river) and the Canon G9 paid the price. I knocked something loose inside the lens mechanism, and now it doesn’t like to cooperate when retracting.

Next up, things we learned in Chiang Mai and a couple of stories.

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.