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Puerto Rico – Day 3 – The Falls

Posted on February 18, 2015 by timteece

I can tell already that a week in P. Rico is definitely not long long long enough. I mean, if a person makes it his only mission to try every pizza place on the island and puts full-time hours into it, he wouldn’t even make dent after a full year. Because pizza places here are like 7-11’s in Bangkok! And the sun and America!

In other news, the San Sebastian Waterfalls are pretty damn sauceome. We found directions to these in a binder in our condo and after reading “don’t wear flip-flops!” we took our flippies off and jumped in the car.

45 mins – Food store and thrift store. The crazy lady at Mano E Mano thrifts initially scared us with her yelling but she was harmless. Her ex’s mother is from Calgary, she hates mosquitoes, has been open for 12 years, and loves booze. She told us that Puerto Rican men love white meat so keep an eye on our ladies.

45 mins – Route 10 to Route 2 to Route 111 to mystery road. We parked on the side of the road wedged between a barbed wire fence and the curb. Seemed odd at the time, but a golden dog befriended us and led the way.

10 mins – Walk passed a horse through some trees.

1 min – Realize the directions we followed helped us avoid a $5 parking fee for the falls. Seemed like a lot of maneuvering for $5. But hey, who’s getting that bucket of coffee now!

10 mins – Hike up to Upper Falls

30 mins – Swing on rope swing. Watch local fellow with braided tail show us how its done. I assume he lives at the falls and we interrupted but he’s adapted. Or his dad put the rope swing up.

10 mins – Hike to lower falls. Watch a drunken older gentleman persuade his much younger girlfriend to jump of ledges higher and higher. She obliged. Our dog showed up again.

20 mins – Back to car.

30 mins – Drive to Aguadilla and walk around the streets in the afternoon rain. Smelled nice.

10 mins – Crash Boat beach. Waves were up. I ran in and rolled around in the water. Need to go back there.

20 mins – Find a new route back accidentally. Thank you Toyota Yaris for finding the way back you little dog! (Our lab left us)

Till dawn – Played Dutch Blitz. May not be friends anymore with anyone.

Puerto Rico – Day 2

Posted on February 17, 2015 by timteece

10:39 – Earplugs finally worked themselves out and the passing jet overhead woke me. The tired dripped from my eyes.

11:11 – We knew there was a beach nearby, Jobos, with surfing and sand. Carissa and Stefan were out. You Where were they? At the beach? At the coffee shop? Oh yeah coffee! Now please.

11:20 – As we were readying to leave they arrived to announce there was no beach in sight. Only camouflaged trees and a dead rat. We begged to differ because of Google maps and its truth telling.

12:30 – After a trip to the Econo Supermercado and the coffee shop, we were at the beach. Jobos (pronounced Hobos), is a long beach with half-finished walking piers and identical beach front cottages dotting the deserted sand. The wind was up and the locals told us it would be better to wait until tomorrow to rent $20/4-hour surfboards. So we walked k after k splashing wet sand up our calves.

15:00 – After a couple of Fanta’s and Medalla’s we were getting hungry. “What about that place on the side of the road we saw on the way in?” asked Carissa. “Sounds good” said Vic. Fish taco time. A line-up made dangerous by its protuberance onto the road was rewarded by hot (temperature-wise) and tasty deep-fried octopus and fish.

16:00 – Exhausted, we slunk back into the condo and whilst watching Cats and Dogs starring a stuttering Jeff Goldblum, Yahtzee stared us down. Bets were placed and faces were slapped as the game of chance that has brought many to tears took us in its hairy arms.

20:30 – Fish tacos and pizza on the patio at the Beachfront Restaurant. We sniffed the air and watched children run down the steps.

Puerto Rico – Day 1

Posted on February 16, 2015 by timteece

We flew standby to Puerto Rico, four of us, from different cities. As fun and easy as it sounds it was not that enjoyable. We had to reroute through Edmonton to get to Toronto because of full flights and every flight was delayed and crammed.

Full flights suck! The flight down to San Juan was looking good: 17 seats, 4 standbys. I checked before heading to the airport: 3 seats, 6 standbys. One of us wasn’t going to make it so we had to make a plan. Vic was going to have to fly with American down to Miami and then hop over to San Juan. I had to go down and get the “car rental” because it was under my name.

As we were making this plan and Vic reached level 8 on stress scale, a miracle! A couple was detained in American customs and wouldn’t be flying. Thanks bad decision makers for trying to fly to the states with a suitcase full of oranges. Or babies. Or breast milk. I’m not certain.

Delayed flights are one thing when I am sitting in the ops room looking at them on a screen but quite another when I’m sitting at the airport looking at the problem first hand. The bridges in YYZ were stuck because it was wicked cold. Maintenance was behind as they ran around with heat guns and lassoes like cats after the red dot. The two hour delay meant we would miss our car rental because the Enterprise we rented from closed at 5pm.

But I had a backup plan; I reserved a car with Fox. Tip: Never rent from Fox! They may or may not exist. Let me complain for a minute; I reserved a car from Fox through carrentals.com because it was the cheapest. Our plans had changed so we could only fly out a day later. I emailed carrentals.com and they said I would have to rebook. I called Fox and they said the same but to try San Juan. The guy just agreed to everything I said so I’m still not sure what I signed up. None of the guys at the airport had heard of the agency but tried to help anyway. I called a few times for a ride but no answer at all. My guess is that they might be a mind washing dark room that turns travellers into windmills. Or the worst scam in history because I didn’t pay them a cent.

We thought we would have to spend the night in San Juan and make our way to the VRBO in Aguadilla in the morning. Each of us took turns talking with the car rentals trying to arrange a car but to no avail. Until Enterprise took pity on us. We hung around long enough for them to find the perfect car, a Yaris. Paul ran faster than gravy trying to please the bag-laden tourist families but still managed to get us that Yaris. A Yaris, by the way, can avoid accidents better than most. Puerto Rico almost claimed us on Highway 22 west before we had even passed through the tunnel. A driver didn’t see us and swerved into our lane causing gasps, tears and sore shoulders. But Yarry was up to the task.

An hour and a half later through night storms, slow drivers and right turns we pulled into our condo. The key worked and the breeze splashed our faces. 25 hours of travel, 15 pleading conversations and 4 strokes of good luck later we were sprawled flat on a soft bed.

Alitalia Airlines – A Menstruating Bipolar Bear

Posted on November 6, 2014 by timteece

I’ve never encountered a polar bear, let alone a menstruating manic depressive bear but I can now imagine it thanks to Alitalia Airlines.

I would guess that a menstruating and moody bear would at one turn hug me and at another, take a swipe at my face even though I am offering salmon. Fresh salmon too, straight from a BC farm.

We were trying to fly standby from YYZ to Rome. We made contact with the bear at the checkin counter and she seemed friendly enough: a smile, a nod, a word. Then we waited. And waited. No word. Finally I approached cautiously to ask how it looked.

“No room”, came the snarl. “Unless…never mind.” Then she walked away mid-sentence. Bewildered we searched our options and found another ride on KLM to Amsterdam where we would reunite with Alitalia to get to Rome. Alitalia was run by KLM agents in Amsterdam so we were well informed and made our flight. After a pleasant couple of days in the old city we checked on space for our flight to Nice and it didn’t look good. After contacting the call center we were informed that we would need to change our flight at the airport.

“But there are bears at the airport!” we yelled in unison. Indeed. Bloodied and angry bears.

The lady at the counter in Rome told us that the call center agent was wrong, that we couldn’t change our flights at the airport. There was nothing she could do. She could lose her job if she helped us. Really? Lose your job for doing your job? We would have to stay in Rome.

We walked around the counter and spoke with another customer service agent who helped us change our flights. While the effort was there, she didn’t execute properly and once again we had to approach with caution. The next agent was capable and almost friendly. We were spinning with confusion. She told us our bags would fit and have a good flight.

As we were about to board, the agent told us our bags wouldn’t fit and insinuated that we were dumb for even thinking they would. Guess what? We snuck them on and they fit. One last ride (hopefully our last) was uneventful, on a plane that smelled of failure and uncaring aka. stale beer and dust.

Alitalia made us feel like we were lower than the scum on their illuminated floor path. The employees were never on the same page and the ones who helped us acted as though they could be caught at any moment giving a hand to the peasants. I can only guess that the CEO and the executive team lord over their employees and treat them with disdain. We have options out there and will choose an airline that treats its guests with dignity and respect.

Bad bad stinky bear.

The Number 1 Rule for Standby Travel

Posted on September 12, 2014 by timteece

We tried to fly standby on Alitalia airline today from Toronto to Rome. The standby booking site told us yellow face yesterday. Yellow faces are good! But nope!! We got bumped. The worst part is that the Alitalia staff didn’t keep us informed at all. They started telling us a really horrible plan and then turned away to help someone else mid-speech. We stood there like two Mary Banilow’s after too many cinnamon buns.

So Tics and I planned our next move.

We had 3+ obstacles:

Couldn’t cancel or rebook our flights online or anywhere
Couldn’t book new ones on KLM because of time zone things or some poo
We were still standby
Should we go to Rome or Amsterdam?

We had 2+ regrets:

We booked a hotel in Rome that we couldn’t cancel
We bought bus tickets for Rome
We ate too much fish instead of getting veggie burgers which were cheaper even and had to be less greasy

We had 1 friend:

The little KLM CSA lady. She said we would get on the flight to AMS and booked us seats. She booked us an entire row. She is so small!!

We learned 1+ things:

DO NOT BOOK ANYTHING in the place where we may or may not end up because we are standby flyers
Don’t hit Teece in the face and make him cry because he’s so tired he could cry at a kitten pooping right now

We were reminded of the most important thing about flying standby:

Standby travel is a fickle little birdy and is not worth going to jail over

Do not maim or destroy just because you got bumped. Getting bumped is like God saying, “Learn to fish you guppies.”

Your Sunglasses Told Me That You’re A Princess

Posted on August 26, 2014 by timteece

Eyes are the window to the soul, which make sunglasses the blinds. “Stop looking into my window, Mr. No Pants”.

True story; I lose 8-10 pairs of sunglasses per year. I’m always looking for cheap or free pairs because I know I will leave them on the car roof, drop them off a cliff or break them apart to use as a stabber or a bivouac. I want to marry a pair of sunglasses but alas, they all run off. I’ve been witness to many strong sun shade/human unions, and you know what? Good for them. It’s nice to see.

Even though I’m jaded and fickle, I’m still quite picky with the plastic I choose to cover my eyes with. I wouldn’t want to be seen wearing a Nickelback shirt so, similarly, I don’t want to be seen wearing a pair of sunglasses that say I support really crappy things.

Sunny summers end is a good time to reflect on what sunglasses have told me about the wearer. What a person chooses as an eye shield is as much a fashion statement as it is a practical defense against Eye Ebola AIDS. Don’t catch it! Right?! I heard that it really gets chunky cheesy and stinks.

When I choose a pair to replace my latest lost ones, I lay down in the aisle at London Drugs beside the spinning sunglasses rack, sip on Lemon San Pellegrino, close my eyes, and listen to the eye shades whisper:

“I’m a princess. Look at my princess walk and my princess hair. I got my princess glasses on and my dog will bite your face off. Don’t look at me! Yes, I’m fabulous, keep staring. You can come in my limo, never! Never ever, you hear me? My coat is richer than you.”

“I’m fun and rich but I could be from Cambodia so maybe I’m an imposter but here’s my receipt. See? I paid too much to look like the young people who paid nothing for the same look. This is my second-hand BMW. Look at it! I’m due for a promotion but I still like to have fun and play beach dodgeball.”

“I’m drinking in the park on a Monday! My wine bottle has stained this paper bag and I smell like the ground. Oh look! A loonie! I’m going to get ripped and then go back to class. The wind is blowing my skirt up and I smell cinnamon. Oooh I love Indian food! I’m poor.”

“I’m fast. Look how fast I am. You actually can’t look at me because I’m too fast. Even though I’m standing in line at Costco I look like I’m moving quickly. My tri-bike is parked out back. I’m doing a sprint tri as a warm-up tomorrow. These are my Power Gels. I take one every 30 minutes during a tri. Have you tried a tri? Tri!”

“What year is this? I want to be relevant but I don’t know where my Motorola phone is so I can’t page anyone to find out! Bono is the greatest human who ever lived and God loves him most.

“Of course I packed my umbrella, it’s a time of year isn’t it? These shoe/boots are called MuckLucks and my children are going to be dentists. All five of them. Have you seen the latest edition of Canadian Living? One of my shots made it in there. The airshow is next weekend and I have an extra ticket. Would you like to join me, friend?”

“Don’t trust me.”

“I think I’m worth a lot of money but I also like you people to think that I am one of you. Excuse me while I check my IBM stock. I’m back, this is my Z3. Don’t touch it. I’m cheating on my wife but that’s ok, she’s cheating on me too. I know two of my children’s birthdays. Nickelback is underrated .”

“I’m glad you invited me to this party! I know six girls and have 14 friends in total and they all think I’m fun. Please look at me! I’m different but only different enough to still be categorized.”

“I was found on the side of the road and I’m still useful even though my arms are bent. I like warm water, infomercials and watching my neighbour’s kids’ soccer games.”

I’m wearing a pair that says “Spy Kids. All the time in the world. In theatres August 19”. I found them on the side of the road. Does this make me a thespian, a movie connoisseur, or a hobo?

Stupid, Stinky Bus Ride

Posted on August 16, 2012 by timteece

Normally I can sit for hours in one position and not feel a bit perturbed but today was a different story.

I was travelling from Sihanoukville to Siem Reap in Cambodia by bus and I knew that some of the companies were to be avoided if possible. So I made my choice, checked the times and booked a tuk tuk. I thought I was set to go.

Then things went wrong. I’m going to number these things because I like looking at lists with numbers.

1. The tuk tuk driver drove past the bus station that I thought I was going to and stopped at another one down the road. I said “Is this the Capitol bus company?” He said “Yes”. I bought a ticket. Then the bus showed up and it wasn’t Capitol. I asked for a refund and the guy said no refunds, you will be transferred to Capitol in Phnom Penh. I was pretty mad but got on the bus because it was too late to get the other one.

2. I had heard to avoid the Paramount Angkor Express at all costs. In Phnom Penh they put me on a bus to take me to another bus
station. I brought my ticket to the window and the new one said “Paramount Angkor Express”. Poop. These guys are known for driving recklessly (while slower than other bus companies), stopping for no reason, overselling, no air conditioning, breaking down and plain old sucking. I thought “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad?”

3. I was sitting in no air conditioning beside the seat buddy from hell. He spread out like a crane, dripping sweat all over me. He got off once and got left behind so we had to circle back for 20 mins to get him. He brought the foulest smelling substance with him to dip his apples into with his little stick. I dry heaved twice then put my hat over my nose. It suspect that the reason he took so long at the stop was because he had gone looking for cat feces, sugar and vinegar to make a dipping paste.

4. We stopped for no reason.

5. We got a flat tire.

6. The driver yelled a lot into his cell phone.

7. They had more people than seats so they sat on the floor and it smelled like melting humans.

8. The 6 hour trip took 9 hours.

The bright side is that I learned to just wait for the next bus if I’m not certain. Where have I to go??? Plus I made it. There were a few moments I thought I wouldn’t.

Otres Beach – A Backpacker’s Dream

Posted on August 11, 2012 by timteece

Otres Beach on the west coast of Cambodia is a pearl. It has a peaceful flow and a friendly vibe with English speaking bartenders who know the difference between a Coke, the soda, and the other whiter kind.

I asked to be taken to this beach when I first got off the bus from Kampong Speu but either the motorcycle driver misunderstood me or he just really wanted to take me to his buddy’s guesthouse on Serendipity beach. I wasn’t sure because I was going blindly with just a name. I booked three nights and the next day realized the error. Turns out Otres is a 45 minute beach walk away and a world away from the dirtier and more frantic pace of the beaches closer to Sihanoukville, Cambodia. A tuk tuk driver will take you to Otres for $3-4 because they have to drive the long way around or you can walk south on the beach until you reach a hill with a guesthouse perched at the top. Once you crest the hill you will see the shacks in the distance.

You’ll feel like you just walked into an Australian/British/German/American commune, complete with pot brownies and cookies on display in the beachfront restaurants. There are still a few sleazy looking pasty-white dudes walking around with underage Cambodian girls but markedly less. There are also fewer Cambodian women and girls with baskets looking to rub your feet or tie you a bracelet. It’s refreshing coming from just up the beach where everyone is trying to rub you.

You have the option of sleeping on a bunch of other people for $5 for 3 nights or spend some serious cash and pay $20 for a beachfront bamboo hut complete with glass doors. Although you could probably barter your way down to $16 or $17 (USD) if you want to save enough to buy your daily big bottles of water. I paid $7 a night for a shack that smells of pee. Dehydrated pee (which is the best kind). Lots of options so shop around.

The time is coming when Otres, like other gems before it in Southeast Asia will be filled with tourists, which brings locals, Tuk Tuks and bracelets. This place is good respite. It’s hot and a great place to feel free and lay where you want with a book covering your face. All for around $10 a day.

Cambodia + Driving = Yikes

Posted on August 3, 2012 by timteece

The Rough Guides Cambodian guide book mentions that driving in Phnom Penh is gnarly. What I pictured from reading the description was nothing like the real thing.

Today was the first day in my life that I wasn’t afraid of passing a car that was passing a truck passing a moped on a two-lane highway with oncoming traffic. By the first time this happened I had given myself to the driver of our yellow van so I just smiled. What else was I going to do? I was already sweating from the heat and I hadn’t drank anything so I couldn’t pee my pants. My jokes about the traffic had already been met with a blank stare as if the driver expected me to finish my thought.

I noticed one rule; motorbikes have to move. It’s either that or die. The vehicles exploit this like lunch money bullies do skinny kids. Also, it’s rude NOT to honk when creeping up on a bike. That’s how they know you’re there.

I respect anyone who can navigate these roads the way this guy did. In one hour here I witnessed more near accidents than in 33 years in Canada. No traffic lights makes it tough to cross the road on foot. Especially a semi-broken foot. But I did learn that drivers are extremely aware and will move out of my way as I hobble across. They have to be since they are still all alive.

$1 Freedom in Montana

Posted on July 6, 2012 by timteece

The old story about the bird that left the cage and went to a fantastical meadow that was filled with melody, super cheap beer, and a popcorn-eating black lab bartender came to life in a tiny road stop town in Montana.

The birds were 6 campers from Canada with one purpose; escape the high prices of oil-soaked Alberta and taste freedom; the freedom found in Kip’s Bar in St Mary Montana.

The liquid form of this freedom was known as “Beer 30” at Kip’s and was served by dog named Russell (he preferred being tipped with popcorn). Beer 30 came with its own original soundtrack from the open air stage in the back area of the bar and a nice mix of camping tourists and locals with short-shorts and beer holders tied around their necks.

At first glance Kip’s seemed like a cardboard shack on the side of the highway that could blow away if a 20 km/h wind came up. From the smell of the dilapidated bathroom you’d assume that it once housed chickens that specialized in burning hair. The red spot on the working urinal may or may not have been dried blood but who’s worried about a little blood on the top of a urinal? Nobody drinking Beer 30 was. The women’s washroom had an open floor concept that caused some awkward exchanges. Especially when I walked in to check it out.

$1 was the price for one of these Beer 30 cans. A far cry from the ridiculously priced $2 Pabst’s that we started the night with. Beer 30 was perfectly priced for a rousing beer pong tournament at the (of course) beer pong table at the side of the room with no roof. Competition got heated as the local band played twangy originals in the background. Our chants and hollers rose to the point that a girl came over and told us we were louder than the band.

We felt bad and quieted down. Just kidding. We laughed and chanted. We took pictures with the locals and dumped popcorn on each other’s faces. This was what freedom looked like. What budget? What inhibitions?

We hit our pillows at the campsite feeling satisfied. A satisfaction that only a place like Kip’s can give.

The next morning we drove by the spot and there was nothing there! Did we dream the previous night? We went to the store to see if we could find Beer 30. Nothing. Just regular brand names. Where had Russell and the rest of the locals gone? How did so many friendly, somewhat strange, people appear one night and not exist the next morning?

Although perplexed, we were thankful for what may have happened and assumed a gust of wind blew up in the night. All we could do was to roll on through to the next adventure.