Destination #7: Meeting the Canadian Fockers

Monday 12 July – Thursday 15 July 2010: Toronto

You take the NY grid, you take one of London's poshest neighborhoods Holland Park. You mix it all together and throw in some extra trees. Then you model the sport's franchises on the QPR model (i.e. no matter how much money you throw at it, they will always be shit), give everyone a bike, replace the local yobs by raccoons, surround the whole thing by a bunch of lakes and you have Toronto. The perfect place to live.

After a completely forgettable World Cup final, we did what every sane Dutch person should have done, we got ourselves on the first flight to Toronto, Canada, where they barely noticed a “World Cup Series of Soccer” had just taken place in SA.

In Toronto we were welcomed by Emma’s Canadian relatives or the Canadian Fockers as I like to call them: Sheldon, Maureen, Sarah 1, Sarah 2, Uncle Hym and Auntie Becky (unfortunately Eitan had to give it a miss as he was at camp). Despite the fact that Sheldon insisted on dragging me through the Canadian “mountains” for some early morning jogging (clearly not realising that Dutch people “don’t do hills”), these are some of the nicest people you will ever meet.

In Toronto, Emma couldn’t help but spending hours and hours in the Mountain Equipment Coop, buying all kinds of crap for our imminent South American backpacking adventure (oral re-hydration salts anyone?). Judging by the amount of time and money we spent there, one would suspect that we are moving to Bolivia for good. Also on our list was the CN Tower, Toronto’s version of the Eiffel Tower. With 552 meters this is – according to the Guinness World Records – the World’s Tallest Tower. Main attraction is a glass floor up at 342 meters, which believe it or not, can withstand the weight of 14 large hippos, or 1 RJ. It also allows you to look straight down into the stadium of one of Toronto’s underperforming sports franchises: the Toronto Blue Jays.

Friday 16 July 2010 – Sunday 18 July 2010: Cottage at Manitouwabing lake

Sheldon and Maureen came up with the perfect birthday present: they took us up to their amazing cottage two hours north of Toronto near the village Parry Sound (for the NHL fanatics among us, one of Canada’s most famous hockey players Bobby Orr was born in Parry Sound).

For all those years we clearly got our priorities wrong, owning a cottage overlooking the Manitouwabing lake should be top of anyone’s list. The views are amazing, the cottage is fantastic and the water is as smooth as it gets. Nothing beats sitting on the dock overlooking Manitouwabing lake, enjoying the sun while drinking a Sleeman’s Honey Brown Lager and munching away on a peanut butter jam sandwich (Canada’s culinary equivalent of foie gras). This is Canada’s version of paradise.

Monday 19 July 2010 – Tuesday 20 July 2010: Niagara Falls

Having survived some of the worst torrential rains ever when driving our rented VW Jetta back from Manitouwabing lake to Toronto on Sunday night (while listening to Moose FM on the radio, not kidding), we went in search of some more water: Niagara Falls (Havasupai tribe eat your heart out!).

Main attraction is the “Maid in the Myst” boat-trip that will get you as close as possible to the Niagara Falls. The best C$15.00 we ever spent for a shower (also given the fact we received a C$30.00 ticket for parking the car “left to curb, facing wrong way” in Niagara-on-the-Lake). Of course we also managed to squeeze in some wine-tasting at Jackson-Triggs, enjoying some “ice-wine” while playing our newly acquired Cribbage board game in the sun.

Probably the only people who always wondered what happens with the dough from the hole in the donut are Homer Simpson and myself, but I have now found out the secret. Some Canadian bloke called Tim Horton started selling these “Timbits” to the general public at giveaway prices (20 Timbits for C$2.99 is great value for all those calories). Timbits together with “double doubles” (coffee with 2 extra sugars and 2 extra milks) and “triple triples” (coffee with 3 extra sugars and 3 extra milks) made this guy’s family multi-millionaires as they sold their 1,000 Canadian stores to Wendy’s for U$400 million in 1995. So with Maureen no longer around to talk some sense into me, I managed to buy a full box of 20 Timbits at Lester B. Pearson Airport. They were finished before our take-off back to London.

Our verdict: We are moving to Canada after our sabbatical.

Norwegian Seaplanes and Whale Sushi

Long overdue but now finally the tales of our Norwegian adventures. Norway was not on our official List of 28, but despite the fact we couldn't tick another destination off our list, our visit was absolutely worth it. What a beautiful country this is. We made our way to Scandiland for the wedding of our good friends and fellow "sabbatictravelers" Per and Hildegunn.

 

Having never been to Norway before, we decided to approach our latest adventure in typical James Bond style, what better way to make your entrance at a wedding than by sea-plane? We wouldn't want to travel any other way anymore. 

So together with Carlo and Michela (the real masterminds behind Operation "Death by Seaplane") we stuffed ourselves in a small Cessna plane in the Bergen harbor. Kjaer - the prototype Norwegian Viking, blond with a two-day beard and a hangover from the previous night - was our pilot for the 40 minute trip over the Norwegian fjords from Bergen to Utne. The take-off was, well, how can we best describe it, spectacular. As we started to make our way out of the water, the whole plane started to shake uncontrollably and all kind of items started to fall off in the cockpit. Then alarmingly a red light started flashing while the sound of warning beeps filled the cabin. Certain death seemed close. But against all the odds, the plane made it out of the water and started its journey to Utne, like a drunken sailor stumbling out of a bar. Looking down the fjords from the seaplane above gave us some spectacular views of the absolutely stunning Norwegian landscapes. I think this is what they call the "wow factor".

Landing a seaplane turned out to be a lot easier - and smoother - than taking off, you just plunge it down into the water. After trespassing some private property while disembarking, we got Brian to pick us up and we checked into the only hotel in town, the 288 year old Utne Hotel.

After getting the small matter of Holland beating Brazil in the Quarter Finals of the World Cup out of the way (which we had to watch in a sports bar in Odda as the Utne Hotel "does not do televisions") we could finally move on to the main event: the wedding! And it didn't disappoint. A beautiful ceremony in the small wooden church of Utne. The bride looked gorgeous, for the first time in his life the baby-faced assassin called Per looked like a grown-up, everyone said yes at the right time and the best men (all 3 of them) managed to hand over the rings in time without getting into a fight. 

After a small boat trip we arrived at Per's parents home where the drinks, dinner and party took place. Until half past four in the morning that is. These Scandis know how to party, that is for sure. Grand conclusion of this all: beautiful day, great location, fantastic wedding.

After three hours sleep we dragged ourselves in a taxi the next morning. We got dropped off at some sort of small harbor 15 minutes from Utne. Cue good old Kjaer, who turned up exactly on time and managed to splash his seaplane in the water next to the boat of an astonished elderly couple who almost choked on their coffees. Hangovers and seaplanes are not the best combinations in the world, but we survived and Kjaer got us back to Bergen safely.

So what else did we get up to? Well, in Bergen we stayed in Det Hanseatikse Hotel, a well-hidden boutique hotel in an old refurbished railway station. We had some fantastic sushi in the excellent Soho sushi restaurant on Hakonsgate and I even managed to squeeze in some whale sushi at Nama restaurant, although I have to admit it is not the best hangover food ever (it looks and tastes a bit like steak though, so it is not bad).

To finish off, some trivial and completely useless football stats. Did you know that, even though Norway didn't manage to qualify for the World Cup, it is the only side in the world with a winning record against Brazil (played 4, won 2, drawn 2)? Well you know now.

June: Out Of Office Assistant: Busy Watching the World Cup

Even though RJ is definitely the funny guy when it comes to writing, and even my own family seems to prefer his blogs over mine, I have taken it upon myself to write our next blog.

One of the drawbacks of having a banker on a sabbatical hanging around the house is that they can become quite lazy. This gets even worse when part of the sabbatical happens to coincide with a World Cup, during which any travel is heavily influenced by fixture lists, then there is just no way there is ever going to be a next update.

So in order not to keep you waiting much longer, here come two destinations that actually aren’t even “officially” on “The List of 28”, with a stop-over in Holland squeezed in between the two.

Our lifestyle banker turned coach-potato did manage to contribute something in between watching football games and provided me with his version of the events of that took place in Barcelona.

Friday 4 June – Monday 7 June: Unlisted Destination 1: Barcelona (Spain)

As my dear Norwegian friend Per Maelen and fellow “Sabatticaler” had decided to sign his life away and was about to get hitched, the first stop was Barcelona for a 4-day, 12 guys, stag weekend.

Following the receipt of a gagging order by Per Havard Maelen’s legal representatives, I am unfortunately not at liberty to disclose what may or may not have happened that weekend. The only things that I can confirm is that yes, Dagfinn indeed did have a video camera, a power he clearly abused at will, and yes Ali did manage to get us lost at each and every occasion (this guy has a cunning ability to take a wrong turn wherever he can, what a skill!).

As a weekend in Barcelona would not be complete without a tapas restaurant recommendation, here we go. One place Ali did manage to guide us to was Sagardi, a Basque taberna in the middle of the city centre (62 Argenteria if you are really interested). Sagardi’s speciality is tapas on cocktail sticks (also called pintxos or montaditos). 

The bill is calculated by the number of sticks on your plate at the end of the evening. Not sure it is fraud proof, but a pretty good place nevertheless.

My verdict: Damn I am not 18 anymore, it took me a week to recover from all the clubbing

Sunday 13 June – Sunday 20 June: Unlisted Destination 2: Rhodes (Greece)

As all this traveling definitely wears you out we took a small break to recover, so we jetted off to Rhodes for some sun and chillaxing, while meeting up with my parents and aunt and uncle from Sydney in the process.

What did we do? Actually not very much. Most time was spent lying in the sun at Pefkos beach, having lunch at Lee Beach Bar while RJ and Ido made sure Dave didn’t get into any fights with the bartender of Oasis Pool Bar after he dared to switch off the rugby in favour of some World Cup football (you can’t take these Australians anywhere). We did manage to meet up with an old colleague of RJ (Richard) and his lovely girlfriend (Lilliana) who happened to be holidaying in Rhodes as well. The game we watched together (England – Algeria) does not really deserve any further mentioning. Excellent company, bad game.

Our verdict: Perfect chillaxing get-away destination and a great place for any lifestyle banker turnt coach-potato to watch as many World Cup games as possible.

Our verdict: Destination #6: West Coast Roadtrip: The Best and Worst

OK here is our list of the best and worst of our US West Coast road trip. Despite this being our joint list, the Kim-Jong Il principle applies, i.e. we both vote and if we don’t agree, well someone’s vote just doesn’t count.

Best Hotel: Post Ranch Inn (Big Sur, California). Where else can you spend more money than in Vegas just by sleeping in a tree house with a fireplace?

Best Restaurant: La Mar (San Francisco, California). Peruvian chef, Japanese cuisine. Completely packed. One word: amazing.

Best Coffee Place: Macy’s (Flagstaff, Arizona): Maybe it was just because this was the last coffee we had before we left civilisation for 4 days and submerged ourselves in the Grand Canyon, but Arizona’s version of Starbucks was just a great place.


Best Drink: La Mar’s Pisco Sour (San Francisco, California). Peruvian brandy, lime juice, simple syrup, dash of egg white and a drop of regional bitters. All consumed at lunchtime, just because we can.

Best Sushi: Arigato (Santa Barbara, California). One of the hidden gems of the trip. Signature dishes include the Pretty in Pink Roll (salmon in pink soybean paper), Yuppie Roll (lobster and caviar) and the Yellow Submarine Roll (yellowtail and asparagus).

Best City: Santa Barbara (California). It was a close call between Santa Barbara and Flagstaff (Arizona) but Santa Barbara was such a chilled-out place, it had to come out top. A surfers’ paradise surrounded by mountains and the Pacific Ocean.

Best Ride: Simpson Ride at Universal Studios (LA, California). It was so good we had to go twice. Think of it as NASA meets Walt Disney. We even got the T-shirt, how sad is that?

Gremlin of the Trip: The 2-year old girl who looked so cute when saying “bye bye” to everyone at check-in at San Francisco International Airport. Definitely less charming when she did an impersonation of a fire alarm mid-air.

Most Out of Place: Steve Nash (Phoenix Suns). Picture the NBA Playoff Final in LA. Lakers vs Suns. On the court, nine 2.10m plus black guys and one 1.55m “tall” white guy called Steve Nash. Steve got a black eye for his troubles and won’t be playing outside with the big boys anytime soon (the Lakers won 124-112) and eventually eliminated Steve Nash’s Suns from the series.

Best Car: Hands down winner our little red Mustang convertible. Despite a certain individual, who will remain nameless, complaining that the top should stay down because it apparently was “too chilly”…

Near-Death Experience: Not so much for us but more for those 6 cycling tree-huggers I tried to kill in San Francisco when I blatantly ignored a red light in the middle of the city center....

Most Obese Guy of the Trip: CC Sabathia, the pitcher of the NY Yankees. Think of it as Shrek without the green. It was a close call, but eventually I was narrowly beaten by a guy who clearly ate all the pies (and after signing a 7-year contract worth $161 million, happens to be the highest paid pitcher in baseball history). The NY Yankees pitcher is the explanation in person why MLB teams have “snack tables” in the dressing rooms. If you are playing for the Yankees with this guy, you better bring your sandwiches from home. CC Sabathia weighs a sweet 130kg.