layover Archives - Page 2 of 4

Europe Germany Riga Long Weekend

Munich Layover – Part Two

Six hours in Munich. That was my opportunity as I flew home from my long weekend in Latvia. Never one to leave a crumb of vacation on the table, I decided I would again head into the city, just as I had three days prior. This time, though, I was more efficient (and did not get lost looking for the entrance to the S-Bahn).

Getting out of the station at Marionplatz, this time I turned left instead of right and wandered down a big pedestrian street, popping into a café and a church (the Frauenkirche).

The boulevard was busy with leisure seekers, sipping coffee and shopping. Buskers staked out their places – my favourite being a young kid playing an upright piano with the skill of a trained classical composer. I watched him for some time and was dismayed by all the people who video recorded him and did not give him a cent. I over tipped him, which both compensated his talents and made me feel like a superior person in comparison to those who gave nothing. (I’m sure there are plenty of time I don’t give money, but this time I did.) Money well spent.

I popped into a bright yellow church: the Theatin Church of St. Cajetan (built in the late 1600s). I’ll pretty much poke my head into any old church. I generally know they will either be dull or beautiful and occasionally they will be jaw-droppingly opulent, like many of the orthodox churches in Russia. This was something else. While the outside was brightly hued the inside was a monochromatic pale grey. It was extremely decorative in its carved ornamentation, but every bit is it was this pale grey. It looked like someone just turned the color off and left it in monochrome, like an optical trick. I thought it was extraordinary.

*interior of the Theatin Church of St. Cajetan*

Feeling elevated by the street music and the architectural design I set off to see some visual arts at the Haus der Kunst, which was a pleasant walk through a park.

The Haus der Kunst was built by the Nazis to show its collection of dull, rural, Aryan art, but now features art that represents diverse groups and challenges. I hadn’t been there before, but picked it because it is fairly small, so it seemed perfect for my short stopover.

I don’t know what they normally show, but when I was there, they had all installations – light, sound, and fog. Many years ago when I first heard of a light or sound art installation, it thought it was stupid. Some kind of pretentious scam. I later realized they are legitimate and can be amazing. But when I heard of a fog installation, again, my first reaction was scepticism. “That sounds stupid,” I thought, as I entered a large, high-ceilinged room with a long pool of water down the centre and taking up most of the floor space. We all stood around, waiting, then there was an almost imperceptible sound. Was it a rumble or a tone? And then fog started to rise from one end of the pool and it rolled in a controlled way down the pool to the other end, filling the room with haze until the figures around me nearly disappeared. Subtle lighting gave everything a blue-green tint. It was eerie and beautiful and menacing. And then it was over. I was converted. I know it sounds stupid, but it was great. (I should say that the artist is Fujiko Nakaya from Japan and this is what she does.)

There were also excellent installations where record players on pedestals filled a room and randomly turned on when a shaft of light fell on them and each would play its record, each of which was a soundscape of a different city. Calls to prayer, traffic, overlapping conversations.

Another favourite was a room then enveloped the viewed in a swirl of sounds and words.

The experience of all of these things left me feeling full of emotion and conviction that art (be it music, writing, architecture, or even bloody fog) is the most important thing we do and makes the world a better place. I mean, I do feel this way generally, but sometimes i get kind of swept up in it all.

With my heart full and spirit uplifted, I made my way back to the train station and the airport and returned with plenty of time of time. I understand why one might not like to leave the airport with a six-hour layover, and this may seem obvious, but I am amazed at what one can do and experience in such a short time. It was a wonderful end to my already great Latvian long weekend and left me feeling satisfied. I would be happy to see more in Munich, but I can’t believe all I enjoyed in my two layovers.

Europe Latvia Riga Long Weekend

Latvia Long Weekend – Riga day one

I landed in Riga, Latvia very late. Past midnight. I would get just a few hours of sleep before getting up early to see the city. No time for sleeping in or having leisurely breakfasts. I had flown to Riga for a long weekend. From Vancouver. Not the sort of trip with time for relaxation built in.

As I said in my previous post, I didn’t know much about Latvia. Riga just seemed like a nice place to spend two and half days, the architecture looked pretty, and, well, what a great opportunity to learn something about a place I knew little about.

I took a taxi from the airport to the old town centre, to my hostel, the Blue Bird Hostel. I let myself in with a key code and snuggled into my bunk bed, careful not to wake my sleeping roommates.

In the morning, I went outside and began to explore.

Riga’s old city centre is stunning. So are the centres of many European capitals, but this one really stands out. Gracefully curving streets lined with colorful buildings, often adorned with decorative paintings or whimsical flourishes. There is, for example, a building that is yellow with turrets and at the top of each is a black cat, arching its back with hostility (a sort of ‘fuck you’ to a particular guild that had denied entry to the owner of the building.). Another has a statue of a German Shepherd standing guard over the roof.

The place is a delight and a dream to take pictures of. And because it is touristy, you don’t feel weird taking pictures of streets and shops and whatnot, the way I sometimes do when I am the only tourist around and everyone else is just trying to get on with their lives.

There are some museums and galleries here and there, but when I visited, all but one was closed for refurbishment or covid. No matter: the streets were the main attraction.

I stopped for coffees at cute little cafes and went in search of public art, including a statue of a ghost that, inexplicably, made me uneasy even though it was, you know, a statue. There were tourists wandering about doing a lot of the same things that I was, but the town was far from over run.

Getting outside of the historic centre, the city felt less precious, but the architecture was still awesome. Riga is known for having an impressive display of art nouveau buildings. They are not difficult to find. There are a few streets that are lined, end to end, with these gorgeous buildings. Colorful and decorated with white filigree, often depicting ancient legends, or incorporating imagery like dragons, flowers, and sexy naked people. One of my favorite details were large faces staring out, open mouthed in shock or horror.

*Buildings on and around Alberta Street*

I do feel a teensy bit bad for the people who live in the buildings on Alberta Street, where there must just be an endless parade of tourists snapping selfies in front of the striking structures. (But that concern did not stop me from taking dozens of pictures.)

When you get away from these streets and before plunging back into the confection of the old centre, there are more ordinary streets, but charming in their own right. Modest but appealing old two-level wooden buildings, serious coffee roasters, and graffiti.

I had a coffee at the excellent Rocket Bean Roastery and then decided to seek out the Oak Lounge, a cigar lounge, for a break. (I had been walking for hours without rest.) To my delight, the cigar lounge was across the street. Sweet serendipity. I bought a Bolivar from the modest but reasonably priced selection and settled in with a tea and my cigar. It was early and was quiet. I chatted a bit with a local guy until his friend came to join him. Otherwise, is just smoked and planned my next moves.

I spent the rest of that day continuing to walk around. I walked over through a park lining the Daugava river, visited a grand, orthodox cathedral, and then over to the Riga Cental Market.

The market visit was good. They always are, but this had the bonus of being housed in WWI zeppelin hangars. Yeah. It was cool. I spent time wandering amongst the pickled vegetables and dumplings, fruits, and honey, trying to imagine dirigibles filling the spaces, which then led to me thinking about air ships generally and trying to remember the difference between a dirigible, a blimp, and a zeppelin. (This is, incidentally, something I look up regularly and never seem to remember.)

The area around the market was just a little bit seedy and busy, which was a great antidote to the beauty of the old centre.

Riga was beautiful and I loved it, but you really can see the old city in a half to a full a day. I loved the wandering, but it was not a big area. With the museums closed, before I was finished my first day, I was starting to feel like it was out of things to do, in that area anyway. So I planned a walking tour of ‘alternative Riga’ for the next day.

I had a mediocre meal on an excellent patio before wandering over to the Grand Hotel Kempinski, to enjoy their very fancy cigar lounge. The cigar prices were insane, so I smoked a cigar I brought with me (a Quai d’Orsay) and had a fancy tea service. In the lounge I had a most pleasant conversation with a Norwegian accountant in town for a corporate weekend and nursing a hangover from the previous night’s festivities (strip clubs).

After that I went and had a martini under an umbrella on a patio (it was raining) where I had yet another cigar while chatting with vacationing and moderately intoxicated Brits and Russians.

I had hoped maybe to find someone from my hostel to hang out with, but the people I encountered there were fairly dull and seemed to spend the whole day sleeping and watching Netflix. Dull.

It was a perfectly pleasant Riga day. I was completely satisfied with my first day and looking forward to more.

Europe Germany Riga Long Weekend

Munich Layover Part One

Latvia for a long weekend in May

It was the May long weekend, and I had an extra day off. There was no question that I was going somewhere, but where was the question. For the May four-day weekend in April I went to Malta, which meant that, for variety, I should have gone somewhere other than Europe, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about Latvia. I don’t even know what I was thinking except that 1) the only Baltic country I had been to was Estonia (and that was years ago) and 2) they have incredible art nouveau architecture in Riga. The tipping point in favour of going was when I saw that I could spend a long layover in Munich on either end of the trip, and I hadn’t been to Munich. Flying to Riga for a long weekend from Vancouver isn’t exactly a budget fight for a long weekend, but not terrible and being in Riga is a bargain, so I booked the flight.

Layover in Munich

I was excited to have a layover in Munich – two layovers actually. Six hours each. Long enough to see something of the city. I arrived at about 1:00 pm and power walked my way through the airport, through immigration, where the officer told me, looking through my nearly full passport “you travel too much”, and to the S-Bahn station. (As an aside, this was the final trip that I took with that passport, as it was full – 6 years into its 10-year lifespan. I wear that as a badge of honour.)

The S-1 and the S-8 both go to the city centre of Munich and come every 10 minutes or so. The ride takes about 40 minutes. To save time, I had pre-purchased my train ticket online. (This was not really necessary. I could have bought it from a machine easily, but like I said, it was a 6-hour layover. Every minute counts.)

The Marienplaz Station is the one right in the centre of the old town and coming up the escalator from the station into the sunlight, was a delight. Germany! I was immediately surrounded by beautiful old buildings, street musicians, and throngs of people. It was a hot spring day and even if all I had had time for was a coffee in the square, that would have been satisfying. But I had time for a bit more.

I had done a bit of map review before my flight, so I had a rough plan about where I wanted to walk. I didn’t stray too far from the main square, gawking at the Neues Rathaus (the new town hall) and Alte Rathaus (the old town hall) before walking around the food stalls of the Viktualienmarkt, picking up a perfect sandwich to munch on.

I didn’t linger anywhere too long, but enjoyed wandering around the area, having a coffee, buying a cigar at a little shop, enjoying the architecture, and poking my head into shops and churches.

With a 6-hour layover, I comfortably had 3 hours in the city, so was never totally relaxed. My pace was brisk and I checked the time a lot, but I had a good time and made mental notes (also some actual notes) about what I would do when I returned in 3 days’ time.

I took the train back to the airport where, thankfully, there were no extraordinary queues, and was back in time to duck into a lounge at the airport before boarding my flight to Riga. Next stop: Latvia.

Europe Iraqi Kurdistan/Albania trip 2022 Serbia

One Night in Belgrade

I hadn’t planned to come to Belgrade. Not on this trip anyway. My arrival was the result of a flight cancellation. A setback turned serendipity when I had to look for an alternate flight from Tirana back to Vancouver. What I found was a flight to Belgrade and a one-night stay. Belgrade and Serbia as a whole clearly deserve more time, but I was determined to make the most of what I had.

My flight touched down on time. I grabbed my carryon bag and powerwalked to immigration where a dour-faced man stamped my passport without question. Without eye contact. From there to a taxi to my accommodations. A “hostel” that was really more of an Airbnb. The location was perfect, and the price was right. I’m not a fan of apartment rentals, but so be it. As I arrived the sun was about to set so I didn’t have time to waste, which made it all the more frustrating when I arrived and there was no one there to meet me with the keys. I loitered for 30 minutes in the dark hallway of what felt like an abandoned building before an apologetic man in a bathrobe showed up to let me in and show me what was what in broken English.

Freedom!

I went out onto the street. The sun had just set. No matter. I walked over to a main square in front of an opera house where there was a puzzling Christmas market. I say “puzzling” because it was late February. But there it was: Christmas trees, wooden stall decorated with candy canes, mulled wine, huge gift decorations, holiday music, and one Santa wandering around. Had I time travelled ever so slightly? I couldn’t get any official answers. The best I could figure out was that because tax dollars pay for the Christmas stuff, the people want to get their money’s worth.

At this point I should probably say that all of my photos of Belgrade suck. They are all in the dark and most of them are slightly blurry. I don’t know if this is because I was in a rush or because it was cold or what, but they are all lousy. At least I can’t be accused of photoshopping to artificial perfection.

From there I went on a walk that I had sort of half mapped out on the plane. I knew it would be evening, so some things would be off limits, but I figured I could still visit churches and loop around past some impressive buildings. And so I did.

The churches were excellent. Warm and glowing and mercifully open, so I could wander in and appreciate the décor whilst warming up a bit.

My favorite was the small church just next to the enormous Church of Saint Sava (not sure of the name), which was just covered in bright, religious murals.

The streets were decently busy, but being that it was chilly, I wasn’t inclined to sit outside, so I mostly kept moving.

I popped into a little bar, just down from Saint Sava. A cozy, tiny spot with lots of cushions and jazz music playing. I had a drink and…smoked a small cigar. That’s right, in Belgrade smoking indoors is allowed – maybe even encouraged. What a treat.

I wandered around a bit more and found my way over to a busy pedestrian thoroughfare with lots of stores (mostly closed by that time) and lots of restaurants. I settled on one that looked lively and had something vegetarian on the menu (lots of other places didn’t). It was jovial and smoky and … still sporting its Christmas decorations. A fine place to pass some time.

And that’s basically what I did. I walked around some more until I acknowledged that I should get some sleep before I had to return to the airport. 3 hours sleep to be exact. It was a quick stop in Serbia, but I liked what I saw and hope to return.

Oh, I did pop into one more place: a record store/bar, Leila Records, where I had a third small cigar and an espresso martini.

And so put an end to a trip that took me from Iraqi Kurdistan to Albania, North Macedonia, driving through Kosovo and spending a night in Serbia. Action packed. (Post Script: I returned home without a next trip planned, but as it would later turn out, in a few weeks’ time I was off to Guatemala. 2022 was off to a great start.)

Africa Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021 Morocco

Casablanca Layover

I love a long layover. Enough time to get out of the airport and see something, walk around, and return to the airport exhausted but satisfied. Casablanca is one of those places, like Amsterdam, Istanbul, or Seoul that is a common long layover place, and where it is easy to do a lot in a short time. I had 18 hours in Casablanca on my flight from Nouakchott, Mauritania to Dakar, Senegal and I was delighted.

The last time I had a Casablanca layover I had only 7 hours; this time I could more and at a less frantic pace. Admittedly, I was a bit nervous about covid and whether it would slow down the airport process, but it didn’t really; they just glanced at my vaccination papers and ignored my negative test results. I hopped on the train and a short ride later I was in central Casablanca at the Casa Port Station. It was about 7am at that point and, because the airport in Casablanca does not have luggage storage, I booked a hotel room at a modestly priced hotel across the street from the train station and used it to stash my bag for the day and have a shower.

It felt great to be in Casablanca. It was a little bit cool, which felt great after the heat of Mauritania. And it felt great to be in a city that felt, well, more like a bustling North African/European city than Nouakchott.

The city was just waking up. I walked past the fruit vendors and sellers of fresh pomegranate juice and found my way to a Parisian style café for an americano and croissant; chairs facing street side and everyone smoking.

I walked over to the fish market and chatted with the men arranging their creatures for sale. I nearly tripped over some giant swordfish, their bellies slit open and their eyes wide and black.

I spent a couple of hours walking around the city and then went into the medina area; the labyrinth of narrow streets that are the oldest part of the city.

I had been to these places before, but I was more leisurely this time and it was delightful. Snacking of fresh fruit, drinking tiny coffees, stopping for some shisha and a conversation.

I came out of the medina near the sea and went to the Hassan II Mosque. Built in 1993, it is one of the largest mosques in the world and sits gleaming white right on the edge of the sea, with waves crashing alongside

It certainly looks like a new mosque, so it doesn’t have the charm or patina of a historic building, but it is quite impressive. Visiting it requires taking a tour, which I found very slow, but it did impart some interesting tidbits – like that the roof is retractable or that it is so big that you could fit the Notre Dame inside.

After that, I walked along the corniche and talked with a man who worked at my hotel and was heading home, and then I just wandered a bit more, poking around in shops and looking at some street art before having diner and heading back to the airport.

Honestly, by that point I was exhausted. After all, I had landed at about 6am and had been on the go ever since and had only slept maybe two hours the previous night. My next flight was also a short one to Dakar, so I didn’t get much sleep the next night either and the whole thing left me arriving in Senegal exhausted. But it was so worth it. Who needs sleep when you can you can spend the day in a new city?

Europe France Mauritania Senegal Trip 2021

Paris Layover: Overnight en route to Mauritania

I decided to go to Mauritania. It had been on my radar for a few years. I was drawn to it because I knew nothing about it, it has a vast expanse underpopulated Sahara desert (which seems mysterious and adventurous), and it has the Iron Ore Train (about which I will say more in a future post). After my other pandemic travels were to more conventional destinations, I was ready for some proper adventure.

Getting to Mauritania involved a 22 hour layover in Paris, which was a bonus for me, since I hadn’t been to Paris since 2009. I arrived in Paris at around 5pm. Between the covid checks, the super huge queues at the airport, and train station construction, it took me almost two hours to get from tarmac to the Gare du Nord train station. It was just starting to get dusky as I walked 10 minutes to my hostel.

I booked a private room at the Le Regent Montmartre ‘Hip Hop’ hostel, just on the edge of Montmartre. It was simple, cute, and comfortable…and I spent as little time there as possible before getting out to see something of Paris.

I took myself on a walk through the area around Pigalle, with its sex shops, burlesques historic and modern, and vintage cabarets. I took a series of failed photos. I was just too impatient and wanted to keep moving, so I ended up with a lot of blurry snaps of neon.

I started to meander up to Montmartre, delighted that the cafes and restaurants were full, live music flowing out of open doors, crepe shops cooking up tasty treats. I wandered past the usual, notable sights in the area and enjoyed the busy squares and the Sacre Couer, but it was also wonderful when I found myself on an empty street so picturesque, perfectly French, and atmospheric.

I finally settled at a outdoor cafe just off the Place du Tertre where I enjoyed a glass of wine and a Partagas Series D No.4 (that’s a cigar). I think 3 people invited me to join them or asked to join me for a drink. I don’t know if people are just extra social now that the covid restrictions have been lifted or what, but that sort of open, hospitality to strangers would be very out of place in Vancouver and I appreciated the invitations, but I preferred to remain on my own.

I had the shortest of sleeps and got up early to see a bit more of the city before heading back to the airport. Still dark out, i took the metro to the Seine and walked along it, watching the sky change and the lights reflect in the water. I looped past the Louvre and into an area with cafes and boulangeries. I could smell the freshly baked breads in the cool air.

I settled in to one of the few open cafes and had a proper (carb heavy) French breakfast.

By the time I was finished the sky was light and I strolled back to the metro through the Tuileries Gardens.

*Everything looks so lovely in the early morning light*

I rode back to Pigalle, where the streets were filled with what I assume is a weekly flea market and people were already busy shopping for fur coats, old typewriters, and ephemera.

One last look at the Sacre Coeur, this time in the light of day, and I trained back to the airport for my flight to Nouakchott. It is a long journey and I have enjoyed it, but I am ready to just get to where I am going. Now the new arrivals are boarding. I find myself looking at them, trying to find clues about what to expect in Mauritania. A lot more traditional and religious dress. A group of young French speaking girls who I have overheard say they are on vacation for 5 days. My immediate reaction to that was, “who goes on vacation to Mauritania?” …right. Me. Well, there is some comfort in knowing I am not the only one. A couple more hours and my curiosity about my chosen destination will all be put to rest. Departure is imminent.

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 Pakistan/Oman trip 2020 Qatar

A Day in Doha, Qatar

I flew from Lahore, Pakistan to Vancouver, Canada via Doha, Qatar. I had various options as to how long a layover I wanted in Doha, everything from a couple of hours to 24 hours. Obviously I went for the longer version. I had no prior interest in Doha, so this seemed like a perfect opportunity to see a bit. I am so glad I had the layover and I had good time, but 24 hours was sufficient to satisfy my curiosity.

You might not know Qatar; and fair enough. It is but a pinprick on the map. It is a tiny appendage on the Arabian peninsula between Bahrain and the UAE. It is like the uvula of the Persian Gulf. It has beaches and sweeping sand dunes. Traditional souqs and futuristic towers. I was only there for a day so I was sticking to Doha and specifically the area around the historic souq.

I landed early. Immigration was quick and orderly and I did not linger in the airport. I only had 24 hours. I taxied to my hotel. As I do customarily, I splurged on my final night of vacation and stayed in a posh hotel (the Al Najada by Tivoli). Fancy. My room was bigger than my apartment and had a lovely view. But the big draw of the hotel was that it is just across the street from Souq Wahif.

Doha is a city divided. It has a very modern area on one of the corniche and a historic and meticulously preserved souq area towards the other end. Away from the water are regular areas, neither historic nor futuristic, visible from the taxi window.

The souq is about 250 years old, but in recent years, after a fire and decline, it was restored. So it is old and new. The renovations undertaken preserved the original character and architecture.

After being in Lahore for a bit, it was a nice change. I enjoyed wandering around the market, browsing the wares, and drinking fresh juice, and smoking shisha.

The locals wear traditional attire, with the men wearing long white tunics and loose white headdresses (called a gutra) held in place with a black rope (called an agal). The women’s dress was less uniform, but seemed to be more often black and a little more covered up. This was in sharp contrast to the tourists, most of whom were on shore leave from their cruise ships and looked shockingly underdressed by comparison. Qatar advises tourists not to wear miniskirts, sleeveless tops, and short or tight clothing in public.

One thing that was, for me, unique to the area were the falcons. There is a tradition of falconry in Qatar. There is even a whole Falcon Souq just next to Souq Wahif. Doha is downright crazy for falcons. They have festivals of falconry, races, hunting, etc. Falcons are apparently also seen as status symbols. In and around the souq, men can be seen walking around displaying a formidable looking falcon on their arm. (Try as I might I could not get any worthwhile photos of that.) In the Falcon Souq there are shops selling falcons and related accoutrements – including tiny leather helmets. There is even a dedicated falcon hospital.

Also in and around the souqs are stables of camels and horses.

The souq is, at first, utterly charming. It is so pleasant and easy for exploring. Appealing cafes and restaurants, shops selling spices and colorful textiles, the bubbling and fruity smoke from hookahs.

But it also feels very sanitized. I don’t know if it is the newness or the cleanliness or the obvious catering to tourists, but it does feel a bit like you are in some Disney park “Arabia Land.”

So after a trip where I was sick and staying in a grotty hostel it was nice to be somewhere totally different, but I didn’t feel like I wanted more time.

I enjoyed a leisurely walk along the corniche, enjoying the views and the sea air.

I also enjoyed the endless pictures of the Emir. Qatar is a “semi constitutional monarchy”, having a Prime Minister and an Emir (though the Emir appoints the PM, so his power is the one that matters). The Emir is Tamim Bin Hamad and his face is everywhere. On buildings and flags, merchandise and paintings, even showing up as latte art.

There are some other landmarks and museums in Doha that I could have visited, but I was still sick and feeling tired, so I had a relaxing day of walking with stops for shisha or cigars.

In the welcome cool of the evening, I had dinner and shisha in the souq and walked around looking at the illuminated building.

It was a great layover and a relaxing way to end my trip.

When I left the next morning for Vancouver I had already booked trips abroad for first half of 2020 and was looking forward to seeing Denmark, Ukraine, Iraqi Kurdistan, and Sudan…but of course none of that happened and this was my only international trip in 2020. I am still sad about that.

Africa Côte d'Ivoire West Africa Trip 2019

Layover in Côte d’Ivoire

I left Cotonou, Benin to return to Accra, Ghana. The flight took me through C’ôte d’Ivoire. I had an 8 hour layover, I was not going to squander that time at the airport. I had read that technically it is possible in 8 hours to visit something of Abidjan, but the traffic could be unpredictably slow, so I decided to visit Grand-Bassam, which is nearer to the airport and much much smaller.

To leave the airport I needed a visa. I had applied for a visa online ahead of time. At the airport I went to a small room where they processed my visa before going through immigration. The process took about an hour. There is no luggage storage at the airport, so I took my backpack with me and caught a taxi to Grand-Bassam.

The good things about going to Grand-Bassam are that it is not too far from the airport, it is beautiful, it is fairly small, and good for exploring in a short time. The downside is that I do feel like missed out seeing the bustle of the capital.

I went to the centre of what is a narrow peninsula, in front of a museum. I planned to visit the museum but it was closed. There was, however, a dance performance happening. I crowded in with the other people and watched the drummers and scene after scene of dancers, including one which involved what looked like a large pillow that danced around until it was finally tamed. It was a nice, unexpected bonus.

Basically, I spent the rest of my layover walking and taking in the beautiful, sometimes abandoned buildings, surrounded by vines and flowers.

I stopped by some art studios and looked at the sea, but finally I was tired of walking with my backpack so I settled into a beach-side restaurant where I had lunch and a cigar before heading back to the airport.

The layover didn’t leave me feeling like I have seen much of Côte d’Ivoire, so I will have to return, but Grand-Bassam was a wonderful place to spend a layover.

From Grand-Bassam I returned to Accra, Ghana where I spent one final, mellow night and day before flying home.

Europe Netherlands West Africa Trip 2019

Layover in Amsterdam

I landed in Amsterdam en route from Vancouver to Accra. I had only a 7 hour layover (it should have been 8, but snow in Minnesota delayed us). A layover in Amsterdam is always a great idea. Immigration is a breeze and the train whisks you directly from the airport to the Centraal area in 15 minutes.

It was early when I arrived. Still dark, but it was a perfect time to walk along the canals as the sun came up. It was December 1st. The streets were misty and the Christmas lights were out. Not much was open and the streets were mostly empty and quiet. Even the windows in the red light district were empty.

I happily walked along bundled up in outerwear i would discard before going back to the airport (no need of a jacket, gloves, and toque in Ghana) and took pictures.

I hadn’t been to Amsterdam in 12 years so its sights ere familiar and welcome. Amsterdam was the first place I ever went to in Europe, outside of the UK, 24 years ago, so it has a special place in my memory.

By 9am i was at the Rijksmuseum, just as it opened. There was a special exhibit on Rembrandt and Velázquez I decided to see. It was wonderful.

I took a quick turn through another few rooms and stopped by the library.

At 11am I walked back to the Centraal area, the streets now lively, and had a coffee and sandwich at a cute, tiny cafe before heading back to the airport. I was in the city for about 5 of my 7 hours. It was perfect.

On my way back into the train station, i stripped off my winter wear, and left it near a couple of homeless guys sleeping in the station. Next stop would be Accra.

Wandering North

Tag: layover