Die Hard Three

So I started my new job today. As you probably guessed from the thumbnail photo that’s accompanying this post, I’m going to be working on a boat. Right now my official title is Seaman Third Class. This morning when I started my shift I was First Class but I’ve already been demoted twice.

The sea can be a cruel mistress.

When my manager (or Captain as he likes to be called) hired me over the phone he was pretty vague about the details of the job. I was expecting life on the boat to be fast and furious like that movie Face/Off. Instead it’s been more hot and confusing like that movie Fast and Furious.

The boat itself is like a floating house but everything has different names. The front yard is called the bow. The backyard is the stern. The toilet is the head. The bathroom is also the head. I could go on but the main thing is I have to learn a whole bunch of new words for things we already have perfectly good names for. I need to get studying.

Today was mostly orientation, safety briefing, and unpacking while tomorrow is the first day of proper work. What I’ll be doing will depend on two things: the weather and what time I wake up. Considering that I’ve only gotten about four hours of low-quality airplane sleep in the past two days I should be able to sleep through the night. And as for the weather, the forecast calls for twenty-three degrees and sun with a zero precent chance of freezing rain.

Till then, I remain, yours,

Jason

I’m now eleven and a half hours into my butt-numbing, duration-record-breaking, commercial aviation trans-oceanic flight. After the first eight hours I was afraid we’d run out of gas, but now that we’ve been up here for eleven hours I’m pretty sure we have enough fuel to make it to our destination. Or we can just glide in. Either way I’m confident that I’ll survive to see the Oscars on Monday.

Right now we are cruising at an altitude of 38,000 feet (11,582 metres). For those of you who are unfamiliar with heights, that’s really high up. Everything here should be frozen but it’s not.

Air – totally frozen

Clouds – totally not frozen (still in gaseous form)

Canadian Blogger – typing away at a comfortable twenty degrees celsius

The reason I know the clouds up here are not frozen is because we just blasted through a whole circus* of them. Until a few minutes ago I didn’t even realize that clouds could get this high (and some can even get higher). I now have a whole new level of respect for clouds.

Respect.

*a grouping of clouds is called a “circus”

We flew right through ’em! 

Am I looking at my enemy – a cloud system that is going to try and kill me later? Only time can tell. Also my Uncle. He’ll be able to explain exactly what’s going on.

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Hello everyone! I’m back on the travel blog for the next few weeks and I’m really looking forward to sharing with you the highlights of my latest adventure. And while I like to think that most of the trips I write about are unique, I feel this time it’s going to be uniquely unique. Special if you will. Here’s what I mean.

Uniqueness Factor One – I don’t know for long I’m going to be away.

Most of my travels are fixed duration – there is a known departure and a return date. But for this trip I’m flying out on a one-way ticket (Menolippu!) Maybe you noticed the subtle difference in the title of this post compared to those of previous trips. My traditional travel blog title syntax takes the form of Day [X] of [N] followed by a dash then [Something Stupid], where [X] is the current day, [N] is the total number of days I plan to be away, and [Something Stupid] is whatever happens to be rattling around in my noggin at the time of writing.

Why don’t I have a return ticket? You’ll have to check back tomorrow to find out!

Uniqueness Factor Two – I’m going to be working on this trip.

Yup, you read that correctly – I got a job. I know. I’m as surprised as you are. I’m going to have actual responsibilities that are not cat or dog-sitting. And while I’m not going to reveal just yet exactly what the job is, I will say that it will involve water, the shifts are eight hours long, and my boss told me I have to bring with me a bunch of expensive gear that will protect me from dying.

Uniqueness Factor Three – One of the legs on this one-way ticket is a fifteen-hour flight and I’ve never done a flight that long before.

I written before about air travel and passenger jets – specifically regarding fuel consumption and the cost thereof. But this trip has me wondering/worried about how it’s even possible for a commercial airliner to be in the air for that long. How much of a reserve do they carry? What if there’s an unexpected headwind? Fifteen hours is a long flight.

Uniqueness Factor Four – There was a surprising amount of sex and nudity on the in-flight movie I just watched on the seat-mounted display.

What a strange experience. For like the first forty minutes it was really tame. There was no violence and it didn’t even have any swears – just a bunch of people standing around talking. Then all of a sudden two of the characters started in-person sexting each other!

Growing uncomfortable with the situation (the screens are visible from behind for at least two rows) and not knowing for how long the scene would last, I decided to engage the fast forwarded. But I overshot past the end and missed some dialogue from the next scene. So I had to rewind and I ended up overshooting again but this time back *into* the sex scene I was trying to escape. None of this improved the situation. And this happened like three more times before the end of the movie. I’m listening to music now and trying to be a normal passenger.

Uniqueness Factor Five – I had to check luggage leaving Canada.

I was a little nervous because it’s been almost seven years since I’ve done this (I’m a strong believer in carry-on-only travel). But the Air Canada guy at the desk was super helpful and there were zero problems. I remember the last time I checked a bag leaving Canada my fear was that I’d forget that I’d checked anything and (by force of habit) end up abandoning it at the luggage carousel. I don’t think that will be a problem this time – I’m dreading the last mile where I have to physically carry it to where I’m staying and this weighs heavy on my mind.

So there’s your teaser – check back tomorrow to find out where I’m going and what I’ll be doing. I’ve got fifteen hours in the air to put together a mildly interesting post. I promise nothing.

*Note: I’m a pro at checking luggage for the return flight home.

Yours truly madly typing, pretending to be.

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I do not approve of when people use the term “fans” to describe supporters of their political opponents. It’s a little dismissive and very much inaccurate. The correct term is, like I used in the previous sentence, “supporter”.

With that in mind, I would like to report that on the question of Tower Bridge: I am one hundred percent NOT a supporter – when it comes to crossing the river Thames, for me it’s London Bridge or you take a boat. It’s that simple.

London Bridge

London Bridge is all business, which is exactly what you want in a bridge. She sits there and does her job day in and day out – you never hear any complaints. With sensible box girder construction made from concrete and steel, she doesn’t pull any punches. In fact, she doesn’t even try to hit anyone at all.

Stupid Tower Bridge

Compare that with Tower Bridge who is needlessly complex and comically oversized. His two garish walkways serve no purpose whatsoever and it seems like they’re repainting him in different colours every time the Queen has a birthday. What a huge waste of time and money if you ask me.

I think it’s a travesty that our children are taught from such a young age that it’s London Bridge that’s at risk of collapsing. Just take a look at the two photos above and tell me which bridge it is you’re more afraid of.

To correct this wrong, the song should be changed immediately. I suggest the following:

London Bridge is standing strong,
Standing strong, standing strong.
London Bridge is standing strong,
My fair lady.

To my readers who have children and / or childcare / education facilities – you know what needs to be done. So let’s get started, we have a lot of work to do.

So I managed to escape from the well-run country that is Sweden without much trouble. The whole trip was amazing and it re-reminded me why I got into traveling in the first place: to make you jealous.

Thanks to everyone who came out to the Pub Night in Copenhagen – that was a lot of fun. I would also like to give a special shout-out to all my generous hosts who provided me with sleeping space, eating food, and drinking drinks when I showed up in their respective cities, towns, and municipalities – Chris, Mia, Myriam / Stephen, and Lena.

And with the Nordic portion of my trip now complete, here are some of the leftovers that didn’t make it into the blogosphere. Adieux!

One of the stranger moments of my visit to Sweden was finding this.

Does anyone know what it means?

It was like I’m part of a real-life Simpsons episode #fishbulb

At one point while I was in Stockholm, I went searching for a post office. This seems like a straightforward activity but it was not. In a cost-saving measure, Royal Sweden Post decided to close all their dedicated post offices and co-locate them within other businesses. So the guy who sold me the postcards said there was one located in the Coop grocery store but the Coop clerk told me I had to go somewhere else. She sent me, “outside, to the right, past the movie theatre, up two flights of stairs, left, past the old candy shop, and it’s right there”

As I was wandering around trying (unsuccessfully) to follow (and remember) her directions, I thought it would have been much more helpful had she told me the name of whatever had opened up in place of the candy store.

Then when I eventually found the post office, I realized that when I heard the Coop clerk say “the old candy shop” what she was really saying was, “Ye Olde Candy Shoppe”.

As illustrated by these photos of a business that sells olde-timey candy.

And as promised, here are some photos of Swedish dogs doing Swedish dog things.

This guy is a rescue from Hungary – the country, not the state (not the state of being, I mean – the nation state Hungary. That’s where he’s from).

This guy reminded me of Pepper with his little face and his habit of lying down and refusing to walk anywhere if the weather is not just perfect.

This dog’s name is Professor Paws. He has a PhD in friskiness.

Coffee enjoys long walks on the beach and frolicking in the surf.

The end.

The absolute best thing about the trip up north was when, on our last day at the resort, I found a Ticket to Ride Nordic Countries boardgame hidden away in my backpack.

It was such a nice surprise. Traveling to (and visiting) the north of Sweden with Chris (my grade school friend of many years) and his Swedish friend Tomas was trainloads of fun. But discovering a Ticket to Ride board at the halfway point was pure magic.

We were able to play it in the lodge. And also on the train ride back home.

And I, for one, think it’s really unique that we got to play a nordic, train-themed boardgame on an actual nordic train – it’s probably the first time in history that something like this has ever happened.

An historical first.

So on the train home, after six hours of travel, Chris and Tomas changed trains in Boden while I continued on the overnight back to Stockholm and after they left, I made my way to my sleeping cabin to find – get this – my all cabinmates were playing UNO!

I invited myself to join them for a few rounds and it was a lot of fun. In our second game, about three turns in, Rohit played a Reverse Card that caused Praneeth to miss his turn. So to get him back on the next pass, Praneeth played a Plus Two but Rohit had a Plus Four so it looked like Naresh was going to have to pick up *six* cards but then to everyone’s surprise he threw down *another* Plus Four so poor Swathi ended up having to pick up ten! We all had a good laugh.

In the end Naresh ended up victorious. I think he won like four of the games that night. He killed it.

Around ten o’clock after we finished playing cards, they invited me for a home-cooked meal of delicious indian food: fresh naan bread, vegetarian curry, spicy chicken, and basmati rice.

Absolutely delicious, kind, and generous.

So to rewind a bit, when we first got on the train back in Björkliden, after we found Chris and Tomas’ seats, I immediately went to drop off my backpack in my sleeping cabin. When I got there, I said hello to my new roommates, stowed my luggage, and then headed back to Chris and Tomas’ wagon for some good old fashioned TTR.

Now, I should mention that earlier when we were waiting for the train, the three of us wondered aloud about with whom I would be sharing my mixed, six-bunk sleeping compartment. “Swedish Bikini Team” was offered by Tomas – I countered with “is that even a real thing?” So this I why when I got back to where they were sitting, I reported to Chris and Tomas that my roommates were a “nice Indian family”.

Well I found out later that a full 33% of my initial report was 100% incorrect. Can you guess which part I got wrong?

Turns out my bunkmates were all computer programmers working in Stockholm for Swedish giant, Ericsson* and they were on a mini-holiday up north to see the northern lights.

Anyway, after the games and food were all done and everyone was getting ready for sleep, I found myself lying awake in my bunk (I still have jet lag nine days in) and I was trying to figure out how I scored a Moe Sizlack on my new friends’ origins story.

The best explanation I’ve been able to come up with so far is that I’m probably racist.

I say this because during the post-incident period of self-examination I was able to dream up a bunch of rationalizations as to why my initial observation was not, in fact, racist. But then, after some more thinking, I realized that rationalizing racist behaviour to be “not racist” is exactly what a racist person would do. No?

I mean, I can’t even imagine traveling anywhere with six of my co-workers / friends and not being totally shocked at the idea of anyone mistaking us for being related. Like which of my new friends did I think were the parents? It’s totally crazy. Sai and Teju are both like twenty-five!

And to be clear, I’m not beating myself up over this – I’m just embarrassed about the whole thing. I mean, on a list of “unacceptable behaviours” (in this particular instance) my passive misidentification of the interrelationships of a group of people from a different cultural background than mine, well, it’s racist, but just a little bit.

Or at least that’s what I’ve managed to convinced myself it is.

* I purposely left out the word “telecom” from this sentence because I think it’s much more interesting that way, like you know these guys work for a proper engineering company but you secretly hope they’re all writing computer code for an actual giant named Ericsson. Many people are called that over here.

So on Monday I got back to Stockholm after spending four days visiting (and traveling to) the north of Sweden. I totally suggest taking the train. There are two reasons.

1. All air travel is terrible.

2. Trains are awesome. And the Swedish ones have dogs on them. Lots and lots of dogs.

The train ride up took about 17 hours. Left Stockholm Central at about 22:30 and we got into Björkliden at around 16:10 the next day (with a change in Boden). Chris flew up to Kiruna where he met Tomas and they met me on the train for the final hour of the journey.

Here are some photos of the weekend.

The view on Saturday morning at sunrise from our breakfast table.

I went on a hike and the trail looked mostly like this.

And then it looked like this.

While I was hiking, Chris and Tomas went to play with the reindeer.

On Sunday the three of us checked out of our cabin.

Then we went for another hike.

I somehow made it to the top of this icewaterfall.

The view was something else.

After our hike we took a walk down to the lake. We were fortunate enough to be close to the railway tracks when a freight train empty of iron ore passed by.

The sun was up each day around 09:00 and set around 15:00. Was an excellent trip. Tomas, thanks for organizing.

Train “Station” in Björkliden.

Probably the best thing about the Swedish rail system is their commitment to letting their customers bring their pets on the trains. They’ve got special designated sections of their wagons where the pets are allowed jump and play and roam free.

So many of my favourite things are represented in this photo. See if you can spot them all!

They even give you the option online when you’re booking your ticket to buy a seat in the pet-friendly section even if your stepdogs are six timezones away in another county!

Say hello to Edgar. He’s one of those cats that grows real big. As you can see from this photo he’s four months old and only partway done growing. When he’s finished cat puberty he’ll be bigger than full-sized Pepper, a dog of 15 pounds (6.8 kilograms).

And here is Finnish hunting dog Eyeforgothername. She’s super friendly and loves jumping and barking at Canadian tourists.

That’s all I got right now. I’m going on a bunch more trains – I’ll add some images of any furry four-legged friends I encounter to this bottom of this post.

I’m not sure what I should write about next.

WordPress has some tools that give a rough indication of which posts are more popular so I’m thinking about using those tools as a guide.

For example, my light-hearted article on the Trump Inauguration Survival Kit (which is not even a real thing) was widely popular, while my Trump by the Barrel-full (a misspelled attempt to try and understand what happened in the US election, and by extension prevent it from happening again) was not. And to make things even more complicated, my post about Dogs in Berlin Restaurants got more hits than both of the Trump ones combined!

So it’s survey time! Do you want me to write

a) a 4,000-word behemoth on how we can defeat Trump (I think I’ve got it all figured it out)

b) a 200-word post on Edgar, the giant 4 kilo (10 lbs) four-month old kitten that was on my train last night and the general phenomenon of house-pet transportation on the Swedish rail system.

Help me decide what I should write. And hurry up! Because it’s cold outside. And there are wolves after me.

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Mein Gott! I just spent thirty-six hours in my favourite city in the whole wide world (Berlin Germany) and all I could do was write about President Trump! I guess it speaks to his allure. Anyway, I’m going to take a break from the politics for about five minutes to write about a serious subject that affects almost everyone almost everywhere.

I can say without hyperbole that I’ve been to Berlin over a million times and I’ve written a million words about a million different things that are awesome about this city, but before this trip there was this one thing I had never noticed about it.

Dogs are allowed in bars and restaurants!

I’m not making this up. They have to be accompanied by a parent or guardian – they can’t go in alone – but they are totally allowed to go to breakfast, lunch, brunch, supper, and happy hour. [Some Berlin trivia for you: if a dog attends a bar’s happy hour, they are required by law to call it “Happier Hour” (Glückliche Stunde). The reasoning behind the law is that the mere presence of dogs makes everything better.]

I have no idea why I never wrote about (or even noticed) this before, but I was only in Berlin for a day and a half and there were dogs in almost

every

single

bar

that I went to. I couldn’t have been happier.

And this experience has made me even more disappointed with the city where I live (Ottawa) that bans the practice altogether. I’ve racked my brain for many hours and I haven’t been able to come up with a single non-sarcastic reason why it’s like this. And I think it’s time for that to change…

Full disclosure: I think that the dog in the first photo might actually be a fox – and if that’s the case, it just makes Berlin even cooler.