Wandering North

Asia Jordan

Return to Amman

I returned from Wadi Rum in the evening and mostly I just went for a walk and smoked shisha before bed. The next day I roughed out a bit of a walking route for myself to see some of the things I hadn’t seen on my first day in Jordan. I walked from my hotel (the Jordan Tower Hotel) to the Jordan Museum, past shops and traffic, cages of scraggy birds for sale, and men having tea.

*my new lodgings* – *designed for ‘chillaxing’*

The museum didn’t seem to be fully open; it was just the first floor, but I was a bit grateful for that. I didn’t really want to feel obligated to spend hours there; I just wanted to get a bit of a taste, which this was. And it was good. Especially the creepy ~6000 year old mannequin type statues and clay pots used to bury children’s bones.

From the museum I was going to walk to this area around the Paris circle. It didn’t look far, but I was, as before, stymied by Amman’s dramatic hills. The route I needed to go involved an endless looking flight of stairs. I would have needed a lot more energy – or a grappling hook – and I wasn’t in the mood, so I took a taxi (cheap and plentiful.)

I decided to go to Paris Circle mostly because there were supposed to be a bunch of excellent cafés and art galleries there. I didn’t see much in the way of art galleries, but I can vouch for the cafes. There are less traditional Jordanian and more European or fancy North American style. Lovely though. And I was thankful for the leafy patio, strong americano and cardamom rose cake I enjoyed at Café Rumi.

From there I walked to the Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts. A pleasant stroll.

The gallery is actually in three buildings around a small park. I had planned to visit all three, but I went to one building (the first I came upon) and visited just that one. It was excellent. It was small and just a few floors and filled with modern art by artists from countries mostly in the middle east – countries that I don’t usually see art from. Yemen, Palestine, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh, Sudan, etc. It was just excellent.

*Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts* – building 2

Almost as good, is that on the roof of this gallery building is a lovely café (the Jungle Fever coffee and tea house). I know, I was just at a café, but it was very hot, and I had walked a lot already. The rooftop patio has wonderful views over the city and colorful cushions. It was a nice place. The sort of café filled with young people on laptops. I had two iced teas and chatted with a college girl studying for a biology exam who told me how she wants tattoos. I also dozed off momentarily in the comfortable seats.

I left my new wishfully tattooed friend and walked over to the King Abdullah I Mosque, the huge, blue-domed mosque that is a landmark in Amman. Honestly, it isn’t much on the inside, but it is nice to see up close from the outside and appreciate the tiles and design.

Back to my neighbourhood around the Jordan Tower hotel, I chatted with one of the guys working there – a super pleasant fellow with a fascination with serial killers – and then spontaneously ended up joining a free walking tour of the market area around the hotel.

I had already been to the markets, but it was nice to be able to go with this guide and his two other guests (from Colombia) as I could ask questions and take more photos that I had felt comfortable doing on my own. I also got tips on where the best shisha was in the area, and we got to try the kunafeh (a delicate pastry with white cheese and rose water) from Habibah that every night I saw people queuing up down the street and around the block to get. I had wanted to try it, but was dead set against the queue.

I finished the night with some of that recommended shisha and slept happily. I really like Amman, but after my second, very full day there I was satisfied. I had one day left in Jordan and my sights were set on Jerash.

Asia Jordan

A few hours in Aqaba

I left Wadi Rum in the morning after saying goodbye to the friends made over the past two days, never to be seen again. My taxi driver was awesome – actually, all the taxi drivers I had in Jordan were awesome. They all went out of their way to be hospitable and helpful, from going shopping with me, to sending follow up WhatsApp messages to see how I was doing, to helping me buy bus tickets.

He drove me to Aqaba, where I was going for the sole purpose of catching the bus to Amman. (There is no bus from Wadi Rum.) I could have just taken a taxi back to Aqaba, but that seemed unnecessary, plus, I thought it was a good opportunity to see something of Aqaba.

Aqaba was not otherwise on my itinerary as it is a beach destination and the beach is not my preferred environment. But a layover sounded perfect.

My taxi driver took me to the Jett bus station so I could buy a ticket. I expected he would drop me off, but he came in and made sure there was a bus for me to get on. The next bus was leaving right away, which I didn’t want, but there was another leaving in about 5 hours, which was perfect. The ticket was 10 dinars (~$17 can) for the 4ish hour journey. I bought the ticket and was going to go on my way, but the driver said he would show me a round a bit. So he did a little loop, so I could get the lay of the land, before dropping me off at the beach.

*First view of Aqaba*. *That’s Isreal in the background*

The beach was very busy with locals. It isn’t too much to look at. A narrow strip of sand along the gulf of Aqaba, with Eilat, Israel in the background. The diving there is known to be excellent, but I was happy to just sit and walk ad take in the views.

What I did not enjoy was the weather. It had been 40+ Celsius in Wadi Rum, but here it was hotter AND there was oppressive humidity. I realized very quickly that my idea of exploring for several hours with my backpack in town was not ideal. It’s not a big backpack, but after only 30 minutes or so I was drenched in sweat.

I sat to have breakfast at a sidewalk café (foul, pita, pickles, hot sauces, and a cigarillo) and through about how I was going to endure this layover, when I had a brilliant idea. There were a lot of dingy hotels around; how much could a room be? So I walked into and side street and went to the Amer Hotel. A room for 1 night was about $15 can. Sold.

I checked in, ditched my bag, modified my clothing, and was free to wander in comfort. Even better, before leaving for the bus, I was able to have a shower. Best. Idea. Ever.

And so I walked around Aqaba. Honestly, it’s not that exciting; unless you are going there for the diving, you could skip it. But I was still happy to look around for a few hours, taking in the street art, the beautiful main mosque, the ‘castle’, and streets. I also stopped at cafés and smoked shisha and watched everything pass me by. By the time came for me to go to the bus station, I was happy to do so.

My bus trip was delightful. A very comfortable ride on the top level of a big coach, complete with a woman offering tea and cake. Masks were meant to be worn for covid reasons, and many people did (including me), but not everyone, and one person towards the back kept smoking cigarettes until the tea and cakes lady told him off for it. even still, a relaxing ride. Not much to look at, but pleasant all the same.

When we got to Amman, I made the small mistake of getting off at the second of the two stops, which was not a formal stop, but just a place on a busy street that seemed to me to be far from everything. Fortunately, I was able to flag a taxi to take me to my hotel, just as art got dark. I had two more nights in Amman ahead of me.

Asia Jordan

Wadi Rum

I left Wadi Musa early the morning after my amazing day in Petra, bound for Wadi Rum. I opted to take a taxi for the two hour drive. The same taxi driver that had taken me shoe shopping the day before. We had a good rapport. We left Wadi Musa, passing patches of pomegranate trees, stopped for water, and hit the highway.

The drive wasn’t too remarkable. Lightly colored rocky desert punctuated by the odd town or flock of windmills. (Do we still call them windmills when they are those tall, white modern ones? I still imagine windmills as something out of a fairy tale book or a postcard of historic Netherlands.) Anyway, we arrived in Wadi Rum and I was deposited at the ‘visitors centre’ to await pickup. Nothing was open and there was no wifi, but sure enough, soon a pickup truck approached, and I hopped in the back…and we went about 1 minute away to a house. I had no idea what was happening. It was, as it turned out, the house of one of the brothers who operated the camp at which I was staying.

I was ushered into a room without furniture, and sat on the heavily carpeted floor and leaned against cushions. I was immediately offered sweet mint tea (refusing it was futile) and sat and talked with the host (whose name I have now forgotten) while his two young children played with iPhones – not as phones, but as, cars, I guess; zooming them around on the floor and crashing them into each other, before their father sent them out of the room. We chatted for a while and then three more guys, all in traditional Bedouin garb, joined us: the host’s brother, a guy named Omar, and a guy who said nothing, but sat there being quietly handsome. We drank tea and smoked. I still wasn’t sure why I was there.

After about 45 minutes, I realized that we were waiting for two other people who were to arrive and go to the camp and the three of us would travel there together. The people arrived – a mother/daughter duo – from Germany who had been staying at the same guest house as me in Petra. As well, two Spanish girls who were leaving the camp appeared and we all sat on the floor and ate out from communal plates: hummus, labneh, bread, cucumbers, potatoes, chicken, and tuna, though the vegetarians amongst us abstained from the latter two. It felt so normal to be sitting and sharing a meal in that way, I almost forgot about Covid.

The German mother/daughter duo and I sat in the back of a pickup truck, outfitted with two bench seats and a fabric awning, and set out into the desert.

It was immediately overwhelming in the best possible way. Aside from the odd circle of Bedouin tents, there is nothing there. Just vast expanses of sand in shades of red and ochre and beige, and dramatic rock formations and mountains. It really does look like Mars, or what we imagine Mars to be. And it is huge.

We arrived at the camp: Arabian Nights. It looks pretty much like the others: boxy, black striped Bedouin tents, a main, large tent for meals and hanging out, and a fire pit.

I splurged on one of the deluxe tents, which meant I had my own bathroom. The water same from some metal boxes outside and had to be brought in from the town. No AC. Ironically, I did not sleep a night in my lovely tent. It was so hot that it would have been unbearable. Instead, I slept both nights outside, on a mat under the stars, which I highly recommend. It was still too hot for a blanket, but the breeze was wonderful, and the stars were spectacular.

That first day in Wadi Rum, we (the German mother/daughter duo, and I) just hung out in the main tent, reading, napping, and (me) smoking cigars. There were a lot of guys working at the camp, all local Bedouins, and they were great company as well. At night we all say around the fire talking.

Both nights, dinner was cooked in the traditional Bedouin style of digging a pit in the sand and lowering a tiered, metal … thing … into the pit on top of a fire, after loading the thing up with chicken and vegetables. The pit is then covered with a board, blanket, and a mound of sand and is left to cook. When the oxygen runs out, the fire dies, but the heat remains to cook everything. There was also a big pot of rice and the usual dips and breads. We were well fed.

On the second day, the German mother/daughter duo and I took an all-day trip into the desert. Omar was our driver for the day, and we took the aforementioned truck into the unknown.

The day was a series of drives through the sand to various points of interest and places for hikes. It was all terrific. Even just driving and looking and the awesome scenery was great. But then we would stop at a narrow cave, for example, and venture in to look at ancient carvings and paintings of people, horned beasts, and whatnot.

We climbed up a sand dune and sand boarded or tobogganed down. It was amazing, though hiking up a sand dune is challenging; it feels like you slide back farther with every step forward, but out of breath at the top, it doesn’t seem to matter.

We visited what remained of T. E. Lawrence (of Arabia)’s house where he allegedly slept, a rare spring of water, a large rock resembling a mushroom, and a couple of amazing natural rock bridges.

Whenever possible, Omar parked the truck and told us to hike over a small mountain or through a canyon and he would pick us up on the other side. The scenery was outstanding. Much of it didn’t even seem real, like a scene out of a movie.

All of this was great fun, albeit rather exhausting, made more so by the heat. Thankfully, we stopped in a narrow cave for a couple hours and laid on thin mats on the sane while Omar cooked us a hot lunch over a fire and another man who showed up out of nowhere played songs on the oud.

We also had opportunities at various points to stop at open air tents operating as tea houses – literally in the middle of nowhere – to have a glass of tea, a chat with whoever was there, and, if we were lucky, hear a bit more of the oud being played.

We finished the day by hiking up a small mountain to watch the sunset over the desert, where, on that mountain I ran into the Czech doctor who I had previously met in Petra. I ran into him again later that night when I discovered he was staying at the same camp and joined us or dinner and fireside chats.

It was really nice on this trip to Jordan that, even though the tourist numbers are abysmal, there were still people traveling and all of them seemed eager to talk and hang out. Just like old times.

I slept under the stars, looking up at the milky way, until I dozed off. Wadi Rum really exceeded my expectations. There were iterations of this trip, in the planning stages, where I had thought about skipping it. I am so glad I didn’t.

The next morning after breakfast, I left the camp and caught a taxi to Aqaba before bussing back to Amman.

Asia Jordan

Finally…Petra!

Have you ever had a moment where you knew, while it was happening, that you were having one of the best moments of your life? The last time I had one I was at a jazz club in Havana. But I think I had another one of those moments in Petra. Even if the rest of my trip to Jordan had been a let down (it wasn’t) that moment would have redeemed it.

I left my lodging at the Infinity Guest House early, maybe 5:30am. The sun was just starting to lighten the sky over the mountains that were the gateway to Petra

I entered the site and began the walk from the gate through unusual rocky formations punctuated with the odd temple or carving.

It was great and I took a lot of pictures, but that was just the preview.

Finally, I reached the beginning of the Siq, the 1.2 km long narrow passageway formed naturally by a fissure in the high rock walls, made smooth by the wind. It just sort of curves along and you walk between these high walls under a sliver of blue sky. Occasionally there are carvings; the remains of figures or designs, but mostly, it is just the path. And the incredible thing is, you don’t know when you will reach the end. Everyone who goes knows that when you reach the end you see you first glimpse of the Treasury, but you don’t know exactly when it will happen.

It was amazing. But what made it so amazing for me was that the whole way, from the entrance to the Siq and through it to the Treasury, I did not see anyone. It was just me. Normally there would be thousands of tourists, making noise, taking pictures, and locals there to offer things for sale. But it was all mine. All I could hear were my own footsteps. It felt magical. This was that moment that I knew I would look back on as one of the best.

Finally the Treasury did appear and it was even better than I imagined. It’s actually incredible how it was all created. You couldn’t ask for a better, more theatrical reveal to the entrance to the city of Petra. Those Nabataeans really had a flair for the theatrical.

When I did reach the Treasury, guys, most of whom seemed to be styled as Jack Sparrow, there were setting up their souvenir and coffee stands. I got a coffee and had a cigarillo, watching as the light on the Treasury grew brighter. Just then the next tourists walked in. Two of them.

I’m probably not supposed to look for anything good that came out of Covid, but this moment would not have happened without the pandemic.

Petra, the site, was inhabited by at least 7000 BC, with the city dating back to 5000 or 4000 BC. The Nabataeans were nomadic Arabs who settled there due to trade routes, or so I am told. They carved incredible temples and monuments, and city infrastructure, including means of capturing and moving rain water, which is non-existent for much of the year. In the 1st century Ad, the Romans took over and added their own flourishes, like stone streets and a large theatre. A couple hundred years later the Byzantines added churches and detailed mosaics. But the original Nabataean structures are the stand outs.

One of the neat things about the site is that, if you want to, you can just stroll down the wide main thoroughfare and take in amazing sites.

But if you want to explore, you can embark on punishing hikes that reveal yet more architectural wonders, caves, and views over the sites below.

I didn’t do all the hikes (I ran out of steam before the Monastery), but I climbed to the place of High Sacrifice and on a trail that took me up past the Royal Tombs and eventually (millions of carved stone stairs and one lost way later), led me to a tiny Bedouin tea house on the edge of a cliff over looking the Treasury. Terrific.

I spent close to an hour in that tea house, catching my breath and escaping the sun, which was harsh at this point. I talked with the other people foolish or awesome enough to make the ascent: a couple of guys from Netherlands, a man from London, a woman from Saudi Arabia.

I wandered around the rest of the site, until late afternoon, getting more fatigued as I went. The rests I took though were welcome chances to talk to locals and bedouins who told me about life in the area and, of course, there were camels.

Finally, when I had had my fill of amazing sites, I made my way out. There were more tourists at this point but not even a fraction of what there would have been under non-pandemic times. The one mistake I made in my visit to Petra was walking out. On the way out I could have taken a horse, donkey, or camel, but I stubbornly chose to walk. I love to walk. But at this point, about ten hours since I left my hotel and in the heat, I was exhausted, the walk out seemed so much longer as I shuffled along in the dust. I should have sitting majestically on top of a camel.

When I emerged from the site, I made my way to the Cave Bar (actually, first I laid down on the ground and then I walked to the Cave Bar), allegedly the oldest bar in the world, sat down on a shady, pillow covered sofa, and downed a virgin piña colada and a fresh mint/lemon juice while nibbling on hummus and labneh and smoking a Bolivar Royal Corona (cigar).

Post Petra, everyone seemed to be in a social, happy mood, and I chatted with other sweaty and satisfied travellers, recounting our similar but special days.

The one thing that may have been unique to my Petra experience is that my boots completely fell apart. Like, it was almost comical. One of the heels disintegrated and the sole of another wore through. And these were trusty boots that had seen me through hikes in places as far flung as Nepal and Ethiopia. I found a taxi and asked him to take me to the nearest shoe store. He not only dropped me off, but came in and helped me pick out sneakers. He was so good natured, I asked him to drive me to Wadi Rum the next morning, which he did.

I finished my day with a second cigar at my accommodations with dinner and the night air. It had been a perfect day. (And I still had Wadi Rum to look forward to.)

Asia Jordan

King’s Highway: Amman to Petra

I needed to get from Amman to Petra. I had hoped to take the inexpensive and comfortable Jett Bus, but both the website and my hostel said it was not running that day; the schedules had been cut back due to dwindling tourists in these covid times. I could have taken a minivan, but I didn’t relish being crammed into an airless van for about four hours, so I googled private car to Petra and found a place (one of many, really) that would take to Petra in comfort and along the slightly longer but more scenic King’s Highway. It was a good choice.

The faster way to Petra is along the Desert Highway, which is about 3 hours by car or 4 hours by bus but isn’t much to look at. The King’s Highway, with stops, is 6ish hours. The views and stops aren’t breathtaking, but they are good and worthwhile and certainly better than the Desert Highway.

My driver, Ali, (found through localtrips.net), was great and knew all the right places to stop for me to take in the views as the city melted away into olive orchards and then eventually the landscape became a lot of…nothing. Just rocky, barren vistas; beautiful in their own way.

On the way, we drove through some small cities and stopped at the castles of Kerak and Shobak, which I could wander at my leisure.

Kerak is a crusader castle dating back to the 1100s and is certainly worth a visit, if not to explore the ruins, then to enjoy the views. Other than the guards at the gate, I had the place to myself.

We stopped and had falafel at a hole in the wall restaurant nearby in the surrounding small town, before heading farther south and stopping at Shobak Castle.

Shobak is another similarly dated Crusader castle, but in much poorer condition. It’s really not much to see, but it does have great views of the landscape.

I met a couple from Spain up there and we chatted about what travel was like during the pandemic. Other than them, the site was empty.

Near Shokak is the ‘world’s smallest hotel’, which is a VW beetle parked by the roadside. I couldn’t get a good picture of it, but it looked cute as we zipped by. This picture I took from the castle, so the car is just a speck. (Officially there is a proper hotel in Germany that holds the title of smallest, but the beetle is clearly smaller, albeit an alternative lodging.)

world smallest (VW) hotel, by the shrubbery in the middle

Finally, we arrived in the city of Petra (technically, Wadi Musa). An impossibly hilly place that made walking a serious challenge but created incredible views. Even the cars had difficulty stopping on some of the streets due to the incline.

I checked into my lodging, the Infinity Lodge. It was wonderful. My room was so fancy and had all the amenities, including my own balcony overlooking the city and mountains, behind which Petra was located. And they had lovely outdoor areas for meals, which they prepared and all of which were wonderful.

I walked gingerly from the residential area where the guesthouse was to the town. It’s not far, but the descent was so steep I had to take little baby steps to avoid slipping.

There is not much in the town. Souvenir stands with names link ‘Indiana Jones’, hotels, and restaurants. A lot of things were closed. Normally, Petra sees up to 10,000 tourists a day during high season and about 6,000 per day in the low season. Right now, I was told, they are getting 150-300 per day. So the scene in Wadi Rum was…quiet.

I walked and settled in to the patio of a restaurant for a cigar and a meal, watching the few tourists way away from Petra, exhausted. I talked with a doctor from the Czech Republic who was travelling solo and had just finished his day in Petra. (I ended up running him to him 2 more times in Wadi Rum.)

I finished the day with a cigar and an elaborate dinner at the lodge, watching the city light up and listening to the call to prayer. Wonderful. I stayed up way too late, given that the next morning I planned to be at Petra at 6:00 am.

Asia Jordan

Amman Arrival

Why Jordan / Why Now

When Canada dropped the covid quarantine requirement for its returning, vaccinated travellers, I knew it was time to plan something. I had been to Ukraine a couple months prior and that went well so it was time go farther afield. The number one place I wanted to go was Jordan.

Jordan had been high on my list of places to go for many years. Decades, really. But somehow I never went. As I visited other big heritage sights (the pyramids in Egypt, Machu Picchu, Abu Simbel, Lalibela, etc) I sort of held on to Jordan, figuring I would go there one day and I liked having Petra in the future, as something to look forward to. Then the pandemic hit and travel was effectively taken away for a time and I thought that Jordan, and Petra in particular, would be the place I would go as soon as I was able. No more putting it off; ‘one day’ may never come. And so I went.

Covid Travel

I flew to Amman from Vancouver via Toronto and Doha, covid tests, vaccination forms, pre-approval paperwork all in hand. It is easy in this time of travel to get frustrated by the queues, the ever-changing restrictions, the paperwork. I could spend half my time I airports feeling frustrated by the rules and the other half of my time feeling irritated by the people who do not follow the rules, but instead I have adopted a mantra of “I’m just happy to be here.” Whenever I want to simmer about yet another hour long queue to show my paperwork yet again or about the person seated next to me on the plane who just refuses to wear their mask, I just remind myself that I am just happy to be traveling, hoops and all.

As of the writing of this, to enter Jordan without a quarantine or test at the border, you must be double vaccinated with an approved vaccine and have pre filled out a form through the https://www.visitjordan.gov.jo that gives you a QR card that you show before boarding and again on arrival. Officially, masks and gloves are required in all indoor, public places, but I didn’t see a single person wearing gloves and mask use was…inconsistent at best. But all of that may change at any minute.

Amman

I arrived in Amman at about 11pm and by 11:30 was pulling up to my hostel (the Cabin Hostel) in the heart of the city and was delighted to see that even at that late hour, the city was alive. Everything was open and the streets were busy. I don’t know why people would be shopping for suits and spices at close to midnight, but if it strikes your fancy, you can do it in Amman.

The Cabin Hostel, by the way, is perfect. You couldn’t ask for a better location, surrounded by inviting cafes and restaurants, on the edge of the souks, and a short walk from both the Citadel and the Roman Theatre. It has cozy dorms and serviceable private rooms, and a shady rooftop for breakfasts and general socializing. And it is cheap.

The next morning, I set off early with my sights set on the Citadel. The map showed that it was not far – and it isn’t – but the thing I quickly realized about Amman is that they don’t call it the city of seven hills for nothing. Indeed, that might be an understatement. It seemed that everywhere I went I was walking uphill. In some areas the hills were so steep that the sidewalks just became daunting staircases. All the better to work up an appetite for falafel. It was fine, if not leisurely, for walking. It was hot though. As a demonstration, this is me as I left my hostel that morning:

And this is my one hour later, red-faced and sweaty, though quite happy:

The Citadel is an historical site occupied since about 1800 BC and is most famous for being the site of the Temple of Hercules, of which several columns remain and, fantastically, has the remnants of a massive statue of Hercules. It’s just a part of a hand and an elbow but they are large and delicately carved. The original monument must have been amazing.

The Citadel also offers great views of the city.

From there I meandered my way down to the 2^nd century Roman theatre.

And then I wandered the streets, visiting the souks and a few mosques.

I saw the first of some excellent street art murals.

Exhausted from the heat and the walking I spotted an inviting balcony on a second level of a building and popped in for some fresh lemon mint juice and a matching lemon mint shisha, happy for the breeze and for a bit of distance from the hectic streets. The waiter did not speak English, but continually stopped by my table to mutter things to me. On my way out, just as I began descending the stairs to leave, he approached me and grabbed my hand, pulling me for a kiss. I gave him a sharp “No” and shoved him back against the wall. He accepted his defeat and simply said goodbye. In English. I thought, “Great, am I going to have to deal with this bullshit the whole trip?” Thankfully, I did not and that was the only bit of harassment I faced.

I walked (really, climbed) to Rainbow Street, which is a street full of eateries, shops, and galleries, for dinner. I wasn’t crazy about it. Everything seemed a little too expensive and not that appealing, but my opinion on that seems to be the minority.

I finished the day joining the masses wandering around the souq area near my hostel at night, enjoying the reprieve from the heat, until finally settling in on a quite alley for some fresh fruit juice and a cigar, watching the crowds and the on again-off again amorous advances of the many stray cats.

It was a packed day. I didn’t see everything of course, but it was a good start, and I would be back at the end of my trip, but the next day was a trip down the King’s Highway to Petra.

Canada North America

Ottawa Weekend

Ottawa isn’t that interesting and neither is this post, but the truth is, I was still happy to be traveling anywhere during covid.

Sill in the throes of the pandemic, I was yearning to travel somewhere, but I wasn’t willing to do the whole hotel quarantine / two-week quarantine thing again, so I looked at Canadian destinations. There was a stupidly cheap flight to Ottawa, so it thought, ‘why not see the capital?’

I left late Friday night and arrived very early Saturday morning. I was to leave Sunday afternoon. Just one night. It was enough. That is not to say that I didn’t have a good time. I dd. But just that I didn’t need a long time to do what I did.

I stayed at the Swiss Hotel, a delightful small, independent hotel in a cute heritage building, but with nice minimalist décor. The owner, a woman from Switzerland, was an excelled host, and I enjoyed conversations with her in the garden courtyard.

Ottawa surprised me as being both nicer and less nice than I expected. The photogenic centre was really nice. I loved the large, oldish buildings and all of the statues. The buildings aren’t that old, but they best those in Vancouver, so it felt like a nice change.

I liked the canal and the boats, though I decided against taking one (the idea of being outside in the July heat whilst wearing a covid mask did not appeal to me). I enjoyed walking around the park, and the parliament buildings. It important to not though that these things were closed. The museums, galleries, and parliament tours…all closed. It was a bit disappointing, but it also made the short visit much more do-able.

The less nice part of Ottawa, is that the picturesque part is bordered by a pretty grim area. I mean, it’s not terrible and not as bad as in Vancouver, but I was a bit surprised to see so many homeless people, and people who appeared homeless collapsed or staggering about drunk and high. Lots of litter, crumby businesses, closed storefronts, and graffiti tags. Just a little surprising.

I enjoyed walking around this market area and having coffee and strolling in the park.

The best thing though, which was totally unexpected to me was that Ottawa is connected to a city in Quebec (Hull or Gatineau) by a bridge and it is a short walk.

So I walked across the bridge. And like magic, when I reached the other side, the signs and conversations switched to French. The area near the bridge was a cute, historic area with brick buildings and festive restaurants and bars.

There was also a good, self-directed walk that led one around the neighbourhood and past various points of outdoor artistic interest. I liked it. Not amazing, but pleasant.

I walked around some more. Ate something unmemorable, and finished the day in the hotel courtyard with a cigar, which was most pleasant. (There are no cigar lounges in Ottawa.

The next morning before my flight I basically just went for a leisurely breakfast. I wouldn’t go back to Ottawa, but if for some reason I found myself there for work or something, I would go to the National Gallery of Canada and take a Parliament tour. I do think those things would be interesting, but not interesting enough to plan another trip.

So I am glad that I went, but I would fall short of recommending it, unless of course you find yourself in a global pandemic and unable to leave the country. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen twice.

Europe Ukraine

Escaping the Lavra and Leaving Kyiv

I flew back to Kyiv from Lviv. A short flight; less than one hour. And I was back in Kyiv. Back at the Dream Hostel. I has already done nearly everything that I wanted to do in Kyiv, with two exceptions: I wanted to visit the Kyiv Pechersk Lavra and I needed to get a Covid test to return home.

The Pechersk Lavra

The Lavra is a monastery complex that sprung up around the original cave monastery founded in about 1000. It is filled with stunning churches and sacred caves. Judging by the number of bearded and black robed priests wandering about with staffs or chalices, it is an operating religious site and not just a series of photo opportunities (though it is great for the latter as well).

To get them you take the metro to the Arselana station, which is often proclaimed to be the deepest subway station in the world, although I have read that there is one deeper in Pyongyang. Even if it was not the closest stop to the Lavra, I would have made a point of going there to the [second] deepest metro station in the world.

From the metro, it is a nice, easy walk to the Lavra, past various cafes, past one of the coolest Soviet hotels I have ever seen, and through a lovely park, with statues, a Holocaust memorial site, and excellent views of the city.

The Lavra, as I mentioned, is churches. Several of them, most of them open to the public, and all but one, which was purely historical, are full of worshippers. Mostly women it seemed, in colourful headscarves, lighting candles and standing in silent prayer.

There are also a few shops, a giant silver egg, like a Ukrainian disco ball, and a bell tower that regularly proclaims itself with peals of extended chimes.

Most unique to the site were the monastery caves. They are a labyrinth containing small churches and altars, and narrow corridors, lit by candles. In addition to the shrines and rows of mummified monks, covered in ornate blankets and lying in glass coffins. There were a lot of people visiting when I was there. We queued up and descended single file into the bowels of this church, descending down in a corridor that was very narrow (no room for passing or changing your mind and turning around) and barely tall enough to to stand in. I am not claustrophobic, but moments like that is it possible to not be suddenly and keenly aware of the lack of space and means of escape? And to make things worse, everyone but me was carrying a thin, lit, candle. Ok, maybe I was being too safety conscious, but all I could think was how each person was inches from the next, with scarves and hair flowing, and…open flame? This seemed like a situation with an inevitable, macabre ending.

People gathered – no, tightly clustered – in a small chapel room, and then filed down the coffin-lined corridors. No photos were allowed. I was happy to be there, to see this sight, but I also wanted to get out before I suffocated, burned to death, or was trampled. So I did the loop without much stopping, and emerged into the light.

After the Lavra, i walked to the park and viewpoints around the Ukrainian State Museum of the Great Patriotic War, which was moderately worthwhile. I stopped for a falafel on the way and to view a collection of Ukrainian tanks on display. I popped into a craft market, and finally went to the Kyiv food market, which is like a gourmet food court with live string music.

I also spent a good part of my final day trying in vain to repair, and then replacing with sneakers a very cool and very new pair of Kat Von D boots that fell apart completely shortly after purchase. On the plus side, I now know how to ask for duct tape in Russian.

A few more pictures from my final day in Kyiv…

PCR Test

The covid test was not so easily sorted on line. I reading about how there were many clinics in Kyiv offering the PCR test, but could not determine which ones there were or which test they did, or how to secure an appointment. Through word of mouth though I did find a clinic (Synevo. All around the city and, at the time of writing, drop in PCR tests were done and were very cheap) and I walked there to make the inquiry. I returned the next day for the test and had my results (negative) within 12 hours.

Other than walking to and from clinics, I spent my final two days in Kyiv, walking and eating and not much else. I had done what I came to do and more.

I thought Ukraine was great. It was a good European holiday but at Mexico prices and without a big list of ‘must sees’ it was more about easy discovery, which meant that everything was delightful and nothing disappointing.

Return and Quarantine

Upon return from Ukraine, due to the Canadian laws at the time, I was required to spend 3 days in a government approved hotel as a quarantine facility and then 11 days at home, during which time I could not leave – not even to take out the trash. I had expected the quarantine to be torturous, but it was surprisingly fine. The hotel portion was very expensive ($1900 for 3 days, including food) but it was such a fabulous hotel that I did not want to leave. It even had a 9th floor patio on which I could smoke cigars while looking out at the ocean.

The home quarantine was inconvenient, but passed quickly. It is an experience I hope not to repeat, but for my first international trip in a year, it was well worth it.

Europe Ukraine

In Love with Lviv

I arrived too early on my night train. The train I took left at the best time for me and had only one stop but it got me in at like 6:00am. I should have booked a hostel room for the night before so I would have a room to go to. But instead I took a tram from the train station to the town centre, grabbed a coffee from the one place I found that was open at that time a day and sat in the town square for a while, watching the city wake up, feeling a little like Belle at the beginning of Beauty and the Beast, except that I didn’t want to leave.

I was instantly smitten with Lviv. It is so pretty. Like any of those really pretty small European cities. It has charming narrow streets lined with inviting cafes and eateries, spilling out onto the street. Beautiful buildings. Really old churches ranging from haunting to impressive. Quaint town squares. Lots of flowers. It’s just wonderful.

I was so happy to walk around. Kyiv was cool and impressive but Lviv was charming.

I ate some great meals there, from traditional Ukrainian to excellent Italian to a really wonderful Armenian meal. And everything was so in expensive. Like I had a meal with salad, pasta, and wine at a really cute place and it was like $12 Canadian. Kyiv was also very inexpensive but it really hit me in Lviv.

Oh, and Lviv has tones of excellent coffee shops, ranging from cute to cool, but all with a real focus on excellent coffee, like you would find in any more famous coffee city. (And chocolate shops. Lviv is famous for them.)

There isn’t much in the way of “must see” sights in Lviv. You kind of just go because it is lovely. I was happy to see the churches and soak up the atmosphere.

An excellent little cafe selling bread items filled with meat, cheese or fruits

On my first day of walking around I spotted the big opera house, took a photo, and figured it would be closed due to Covid-19…but it wasn’t. It was open and there was a show on that night.

I was thrilled. Because of the pandemic, I hadn’t been to a live show in a year or more so I decided to see this show, whatever it was. What it was was a show called When the Fern Blooms, from the 1970s, but banned by the Soviets, so it is only in recent years that it has been produced.

I can’t tell you what it was about. I don’t speak Ukrainian and it didn’t have surtitles, but it was clearly very patriotic. It started off well, but honestly it ended up corny, and reminded me of cheesy 1970s sci-fi movies mixed with the big number at the end of the movie Stayin’ Alive. But the good things outweighed my criticisms. It was opera, I was there, I was entertained, and…In the interest of social distancing I bought myself an entire opera box and paid very little. It was either $30 or $60 Canadian. I felt like a king. A masked king.

I stayed at the Lviv Dream Hostel, which was excellent. Perfect location, great amenities and hangout areas, as well as maybe the cleanest hostel kitchen I have ever seen.

There weren’t many backpackers there but lots of people who were in Ukraine working remotely because life was better there at that time than in their own countries, in terms of the pandemic. One guy, an accountant from San Francisco, was told by his employer he would have to work remotely for at least another few months, so he decided to work remotely from Europe. Why not? The place just had a great hostel atmosphere, even if the style of traveller was a little different at that time.

On my next day, I had planned to visit the yard of lost toys, which became pretty blog and Instagram famous as a courtyard in a residential neighbourhood where people had collected and put on display a group of ever-changing lost toys. I found the courtyard, but the toys were gone. I would like to think they all found homes, but the truth is, the residents probably got tired of looky-loos tramping through their backyard. And rightly so.

I did carry on however and visited the Lychakiv cemetery, which is excellent. It is a huge cemetery, still in use, but dating back to the late 17th C. It is massive and very green and peaceful. Perfect for a walk. I was lucky enough to come across some gathering (not a funeral) that involved passionate singing.

That evening I just meandered around and had a meal and cigar. Enjoyed some wonderful traditional music from a busker. I had enough time there and I feel no need to return, but I really loved my time in Lviv.

When I left, instead of the train, I took a short, cheap flight back to Kyiv.

Europe Ukraine

Ukraine Night Train

The day after I visited Chernobyl, I spent another day in Kyiv. More churches, several art galleries, a market, and a terrific lunch at a Lebanese restaurant on the patio with a cigar. Nothing particularly notable, but it was a pleasant day.

There are lots of galleries in Kyiv, but I picked just a few two visit: the National Art Museum, the Kyiv Art Gallery, and the Pinchuk Art Centre The first was closed. The second I missed because I accidentally went to a different art gallery next door, the Khanenko Museum, which I also enjoyed. I didn’t realize the mistake until I left, but I was happy with what I saw. The Pinchuk is a free gallery of modern art, which I definitely recommend.

But the highlight of the day was in the evening, when I took an overnight train to Lviv. When I was originally planning to take this trip in 2020, I was going to book the cheap seats on the train, which would have given me a bed, along with 40 other people in an open car. I think that is the most fun and probably the safest way to do it, but with COVID, I thought I should secure a private sleeping arrangement. So I splurged on buying both bed in a two-bed car. I was very happy with this decision.

I had booked the train ahead of time online here https://booking.uz.gov.ua/en/ and printed my tickets from home. Super easy. The car wasn’t fancy but has nice linens and pillow and a place to charge electronics. I was delighted and took some silly selfies before drifting off to sleep to the clacking of the weeks.

I slept well and awoke in time to see the sun rise and to clean myself up before arriving in Lviv and going out to explore.