At the Summit, the View is Beautiful

the view is beautiful

At the summit, the view is beautiful. These words have been in my mind the last few days. They were shared with me last year at work, during a very tough time, when we felt we had to work twice as hard, just to meet the basic needs of our customers, but we knew that the effort was worth it. We often felt that we were climbing a mountain, that just went up and up. Our heads were down, we took step after step, but when we reached the summit and looked at the view, wow, was it ever beautiful.

That’s how I felt this weekend. It has nothing to do with work, my job or my career. In fact, it was quite the opposite: a weekend away. I feel privileged that my husband and I, through our families, have homes we can visit outside the city. We both come from close families, who (usually) love to spend time together. We value the time we spend, often in very close quarters, at our family country homes, secluded from the world.

As I have written a few times, we spend much of our summer at my husband’s family country home in Quebec. The property was bought by his grandparents in the 1940’s, and the house was built in 1949 (with renovations over the years). For the last few decades, the home is only used in the summer months and must be opened in the spring and closed in the fall. I had my first chance this year to be part of the official opening of the home for the season.

Just getting to the house was a challenge.

I have traveled very little over the past two plus years. I had a quick getaway to Quebec City in November 2021, but other than that I have mainly stuck close to home in Toronto or to a family country home. So, when we booked a flight to Ottawa, to get part way by air to our destination in the Laurentian mountains in Quebec, we didn’t see an issue. Boy were we wrong!

I have traveled around the world, on my own and with my family. I have faced a few delays and inconvenient situations, but I never thought my husband and I would have to face the kind of climb that we did on Friday evening.

Turn on the news or just ask a friend about the nightmares of travel lately, and I’m sure you will get an earful. Long lines. Crowded terminals. Well, we didn’t face that at all. We chose Toronto’s downtown, Island Airport, as it was small and typically quieter and calmer.

Delays

I should have known we were in for a long night when I got a notification from Air Canada early Friday afternoon that said our flight, “has a revised time due to Aircraft technical issues and is now departing at 19:55” (instead of 19:20).

The next notification delayed departure to 20:15, and the next, received after we had checked in and sat at the gate, was for a 20:50 departure. The delay was annoying but not too terrible, as we enjoyed the quiet and relaxed environment of the downtown airport But I had a bad feeling that the delays would continue and maybe a cancelation.

Cancellation

I was right. Moments later we got a revised departure of 21:45, and then the flight was outright canceled because of “ground handling constraints.” I have no idea what this is or the other reasons we had been given (all different) for the delays throughout the evening.

At this point it was about 8:00 pm, we were still sitting in downtown, and we were frustrated. So, we were offered a flight, same night, from Toronto’s other, larger airport (the giant and wild one), that would depart just after midnight. We took it and grabbed a taxi. Across the city we traveled, and we checked in, dropped our one piece of luggage off, swiftly moved through security and to our gate (note to travelers: Pearson airport is empty and quiet on Friday nights!

We had a few hours to sit and wait for our flight, and at 11:40 pm, moments before we thought we’d be boarding our flight: notification of a delay. I read what looked like a menu of reasons for that delay (including customs and immigration, which made no sense for a plane coming in from Winnipeg), and our revised departure time would be 1:00 am. The plane finally took off at 1:20 am, and we landed in Ottawa just after 2:00 am.

Lost Luggage

But my story doesn’t end here. As I stood, semi-comatose, in the arrivals area and watched the luggage carousel go in circles (it was rather mesmerising), I knew my bag wasn’t there. I will note, my one checked bag had quite the mix of stuff in it, including my daughter’s Barbie “Malibu” house and my old espresso maker, both important items that are needed to keep me sane this summer. My personal items and clothing for the weekend were in my carry-on.

So, back in line we went, and told the kindly Air Canada agent that our large, bright blue duffle bag, full of a random mix of strange items, clearly didn’t make the long trip with us. At this point it was 2:30 am, I was exhausted and a bit punchy and short on patience. We were assured our bag would arrive (we gave him our address in Quebec), and took a taxi to my husband’s uncle’s home in Ottawa, where we stayed for the night.

Have I ever written that I’m not the nicest person when I don’t get enough sleep? Maybe another day. Anyway, after a short night’s sleep, a strong coffee and some errands, we drove over the Ottawa River on Saturday afternoon and arrived at our destination  Throughout the drive, as we traveled along a divided two-lane highway, then past many farms and started the climb into the mountains, I kept saying to myself, at the summit, the view is beautiful. The higher we climbed, past towering evergreen trees and bright blue lakes, my anticipation was building.

As we turned into our driveway, the scene that was etched into my head came alive in front of me. I got out of the car, and I knew that I had arrived at the summit. And I have to say, the view was beautiful! Nine hours to travel to Ottawa. No luggage. Total exhaustion. But my gosh, the view in front of me reminded me that there is extraordinary beauty in this world. Sometimes you have to work twice as hard to get there. The climb may be rough, and you may consider turning around and headed back down the mountain. But my advice: keep climbing. Why? Because at the summit, the view is beautiful.

P.S.: Our giant royal blue duffle bag was delivered here late Saturday night (really Sunday morning) at 1:30 am. And the water container on my expresso maker was cracked and broken. We have filed a complaint to Air Canada for the delays, cancelation, lost luggage and broken contents. I am looking forward to the airline’s response.

The view is beautiful
Oh indeed, the view is beautiful

Three Kids. Three Provinces.

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I have spent almost every moment of almost every day of the past 16 months with my husband and three kids. And our dog. The global pandemic has shown me, more than ever, the value of family. I feel fortunate that I have a great job where I am surrounded by smart, thoughtful people, and that I have close, wonderful friends who have my back, but really, the centre of my world is my family. That’s why July 2021 is so unique. For the first time in over a year, my family has spread out across Canada. I have three kids, and they are in three provinces.

My life, like that of so many people, changed on March 11th, 2020, when the WHO declared COVID-19 a global pandemic. Within 72 hours my office closed, the children’s school made plans to switch to online learning and everything around us shut their doors, from the ski hill to the local library to small shops in our neighbourhood. We hid inside our homes, into the safety of our four walls and warm embrace of our families.

The fact that I had a comfortable home, surrounded by my husband and three kids, was not lost on me. Even a year into the pandemic, when online learning continued and there was still no end in sight to Ontario’s lockdown, my three kids kept me sane. Okay, sometimes insane too, when they refused to go to bed or clean up toys or give me just a few minutes of quiet. I got used to this new reality, of life with my family 24/7.

By the middle of May I was fortunate to receive my second dose of the COVID-19 vaccine. Case counts slowly started to drop and summer plans were on my mind. Would summer camp happen? Could we spend some time at our family country homes in Ontario and Quebec? Would the children ever leave the house again?

Our hopes were dashed when Camp Kadimah had to close for another season. But things quickly looked up when my sister and her husband invited Matthew, our eldest, to spend some of the summer with them in New Brunswick. I mean really, how could I say no when someone is offering to take my kid for weeks?

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Matthew’s view this summer

Child #1: Check. Going to New Brunswick.

Julia, my older daughter, HAD to go to camp. Any camp. She joined forces with the first friend she made at Kadimah, and we signed the girls up for overnight camp in Ontario.

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Child #2: Check. Going to overnight camp in Ontario.

Overnight camps don’t take 5-year-olds, nor does my sister. And as I personally had coined the phrase when I was younger… Little persons have to be with their parents, I knew that no matter where I went, Nessa would be with me. If our offices were still closed and the summer was coming, then off to Quebec we would go, to my husband David’s ancestral country home, deep in the mountains by the lake.

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Child #3: Check. Going to the country house in Quebec.

And that is how our summer story came to be: three kids. In three provinces. Matthew is living it up in New Brunswick, by the sea. He is eating new and exciting foods, he is attempting to be flexible, living with many boys, and he’s learning how to sail on the ocean. Julia is experiencing life at a different camp, closer to home, and it’s definitely an adjustment. And for our youngest, well, so far it’s the Summer of Nessa. She’s it, and she knows it. She’s lucky that she’s so cute.

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We are just about one week into our full summer plans, and I feel really blessed. It all began on my birthday last week, when I woke to a mini celebration of a homemade breakfast, with cheesecake (yum!), and birthday presents. Then our road trip began, as we dropped Julia at her camp then drove east to Ottawa.

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I can’t remember the last time I had stayed at a hotel. It was a bit of a surreal experience, as we walked into an eerily empty lobby and checked in. There was but one valet and one concierge on site. I could count the guests on one hand. It was so quiet that the cheesy phrase, you could hear a pin drop, was true.

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Here’s Nessa’s first political ad.

three kidsWe enjoyed a quiet evening and leisurely morning in Ottawa (including breakfast at a great patio, with our dog), then we were back in the car and over the border into Quebec. There is a wonderful feeling that I get as our car climbs into the mountains and we make our way to our hidden gem of a country house. It’s like our car knows all the curves in the road as we travel through the countryside. The anticipation of the arrival is as wonderful as the actual arrival. As our car turns into the driveway and we see the decades-old, kind of rickety house, and the spectacular lake in front of us, we are filled with a sense of great joy.

three kids

three kids

And so here I am, on a warm summer afternoon, sitting by the lake and thinking about how not long ago I was surrounded by my three kids, locked down in Toronto. Could I have imagined that in July they would be spread across Canada, from Ontario to Quebec to New Brunswick, each experiencing their own unique summer? I am thankful to everyone who helped me make this happen. Three kids. In three provinces. I wonder where we will be next summer.

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My view as I write

Around the World in 17 Days

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I love to travel. I got the travel bug when I was a child and can pinpoint the year to 1988 when it hit me. That year I was lucky to go on a ski trip to Colorado and my first trip to Israel. Since then I have traveled around the world, to far off places, from London and Paris to Hong Kong and Auckland. When I had children I hoped to pass on this love of travel to them, and clearly my daughter, Julia, has caught the bug.

World travel is a privilege, one I take seriously. Yes, one could say we live in a “global village” today. With technology, we can travel anywhere with the click of a button. Video messaging brings families and friends together from all over the world. But there is nothing like seeing the place for yourself.

My son traveled to Israel on his first trip at just 17 days old (I will admit, that may be a bit young and don’t recommend it).  Before he was one, Matthew had visited cities such as Jerusalem, Miami, Seattle and Honolulu. Still in single digits, Julia has covered the trifecta of Europe, including London, Paris and Rome. By age two Nessa had crossed into the southern hemisphere, covered Canada’s two coasts in British Columbia and Nova Scotia and had two trips to Israel under her belt. Never in my wildest dreams as a child could I have achieved that. Giving my children the gift of travel is something I hold sacred.

My husband’s family live in and travel to all corners of the world. Every continent (yes, even Antarctica!) has been visited by at least one member of his family. I don’t think that we can tick off every country across the world, but I’d say that David’s extended family has covered a lot of territory. Some members of my family are no slouches either, in particular my father who used to travel to the Orient for work at least three times each year.

But back to Julia. She has the bug. She has dreams to visit places in the world that most children don’t even know exist. One of her friends went on safari in Africa a couple of years ago and Julia wants to do that. China is a country that fascinates her. And New Zealand too. Wait, she’s been there. But why not go again?!

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I had to track her flight over the over Pacific Ocean to NZ.

When I tell people that my eight-year-old daughter just happened to be in New Zealand with her grandmother during her recent school break, the general reaction is, what? Are you crazy? I guess it’s a similar reaction to me telling people that I am a huge Carolina Hurricanes fan! Yes, Julia and her grandmother just returned home from a two-week holiday in New Zealand.

And no, it’s not random.

First of all, as I already stated, Julia has the travel bug. So it shouldn’t surprise anyone that the minute she returned home from her first trip to New Zealand, in January 2017, that she wanted to go back. We didn’t close our eyes and randomly select a spot on the globe. David’s brother and family moved there a few years ago. There’s nothing better than combining travel with spending time with family.

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Just swinging around

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Supposedly when it’s not raining there are great views from Mt. Rangitoto.

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Travel isn’t always doing big things. Hanging with her cousins, and yes I didn’t know which one was my daughter.

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They are obsessed with Trixie, the cat.

So, Julia wanted to go back to New Zealand, to see her cousins and enjoy the beauty that is this fabulous country. And her grandmother, who also has the travel bug (my one-week trip to Hong Kong in 2014 with Barbara and my sister-in-law Trudy is one of the best trips I have ever taken), saw to it that Julia would return to New Zealand.

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Shouldn’t every airport have a welcome statue like this?

Hence the title of today’s blog post, Around the World in 17 Days. No, I did not specifically send them hallway around the world for 17 days. It just worked out that way. But the title sounds good, don’t you think?  About 19 hours of flying, plus a layover in San Francisco, and boom it’s just a short trip from Toronto to Auckland!

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Jet lag.

Julia had the time of her life. She spent every waking moment with her eight-year-old cousin (and their cat, Trixie). I think the only person she missed was her little sister. My daughter was born for travel. She guided her grandmother with great confidence around the Toronto, San Francisco and Auckland airports, stayed basically clean and tidy and enthusiastically participated in most activities during her 17-day trip. And she did it all with her grandmother. How lucky can you be?!

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A day on the water with her cousin.

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Up the Sky Tower they went.

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Strike a pose! Ready for the Passover Seder!

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Ice cream with a view. That’s Mt. Rangitoto in the distance.

Upon landing in Toronto a few days ago, after their almost 24-hour journey home, Julia looked at her grandmother and said, “I want to go back to New Zealand right now.” And I am sure if she could have, she would have jumped on the next plane and returned there. I am sure that wasn’t her last trip to New Zealand. She has the whole world to explore, and I am sure she will check off many places in the coming years.

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If you are that far south, you have to see penguins, even if it’s at an aquarium.

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Falls colours in May? Yes, in the Southern hemisphere!

Julia’s next trip is much closer to home, to the Pacific Northwest, in a few weeks. And this time she will be taking us along too. World travel doesn’t always have to be around the world or to another hemisphere. And the trip isn’t always 17 days. Seven is good too. Or more. Or less. Where will we go next?

Next Year in Jerusalem

Jerusalem

On December 31st, 1988, I celebrated my first New Year’s Eve outside of Canada. I will admit that I don’t remember my exact location, but I know it was somewhere in Israel. Maybe Jerusalem? Or Tel Aviv? Somewhere in the north? My family came to Israel to celebrate my Bat Mitzvah. It would be my first of many trips to this wonderful place.  

On December 31st, 2018, exactly 30 years later, I was here again, in Israel, celebrating with more family. During our two-week visit we are attending not just a Bat Mitzvah, but also a Bar Mitzvah and a wedding party. Israel has seen tremendous change over the past 30 years, but my joy to be here has not changed.

B’shana ha ba’a b’yerushalayim. – next year in Jerusalem – is something Jewish people say not only at the end of the Passover seder, but throughout the year. There is a deep historical and personal connection we have with this ancient city. Memories of my first visit there, back in December 1988, will stay with me forever.

As I joked on New Year’s Eve a few nights ago, as we counted down the clock to midnight, I. planned to check that off my list first thing in the new year with a visit to Jerusalem on January 1st! Hey, we all make New Year’s resolutions, and I’m taking mine seriously. Check!

And sure enough, on January 1st, I went to Jerusalem, to celebrate a brand new year and to also, gulp, start planning my son, Matthew’s Bar Mitzvah. My son will turn 13 in 2020. That’s next year. And he, like so many children before him, for thousands of years, will read from the Torah in this most sacred of cities.

I have had the opportunity to visit Jerusalem twice during this trip, and I have to say, I both love and hate this city. I love Jerusalem because it is steeped in history. At every turn you come across a spot that plays a significant role for one of the world’s major religions. The city sits across seven hills, and on a clear day there are breathtaking views in every direction.

Within a few hundred meters of each other you can visit Christianity’s Church of the Holy Sepulcher, Islam’s Al Aqsa Mosque and the outer walls of Judaism’s Temple Mount. I won’t get into the politics and religious differences in terms of the logistics of actually visiting all three sites, but let’s say, in theory, because of sheer proximity, one can do this.

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Celebrating his cousin Ariel’s Bar Mitzvah, Matthew with his grandmother and cousin, Elia, at the Temple’s Southern Wall.

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Selfie with a slightly sleepy Nessa.

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Selfie with a slightly more awake Matthew.

One of my favourite bakeries in the whole world, Marzipan, sits in the centre of Jerusalem. No one can load chocolate into a small pastry like they can. And behind this bakery sits a world famous market, where you can find a mix of fresh fruit and vegetables, spices, baked goods and nick knacks, and vendors hollering at shoppers and each other!

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Doing some shopping at the Marzipan bakery

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My kids enjoying their visit to Mahane Yehuda Market

So you ask, what’s not to love about this glorious city? A lot, I say. Try driving through Jerusalem. It’s awful. Try parking. Even worse. It’s crowded, loud and kind of dirty. No road or path goes straight and we always get lost. Construction. Masses of people always descending upon the city.

And yet, there is no other place where I would want to plan my child’s Bar Mitzvah, just like I insisted for my own 30 years ago. Jerusalem is hectic, crowded and loud. But it’s also mystical and magical. This year in Jerusalem. Check. Next year in Jerusalem – see you there in April 2020.

A Wonderland as A Tourist in My Own City

wonderland

I am going to whine a bit today. My father would refer to what I am writing about as first world problems. The company where I am now working hosted a family day at the local amusement park this weekend. This amusement park is a wonderland for children, with every kind of ride and flavour of junk food imaginable. I knew my children would love to go and a day at this place is dreamy for them. I also knew that a day at this place was my idea of a terrible nightmare. What to do? Do I tell them? Do I hide it and spend a lazy day at home? Or do I sign up and just do it.

I did it. I signed up and we went. In theory, a visit to this amusement park, Canada’s Wonderland, on a September weekend should be a bit quieter. Children are back at school and the weather is often not great. But summer just goes on and on for us this year, and my luck, it was sunny and over 30 degrees. The whole city showed up.

You know that sinking feeling when you finally rev yourself up and get excited to go somewhere and arrive to a chaotic scene? That was me when our car drove into the massive parking lot. Cars were parked from end to end, what seemed like thousands of them. We circled for a while and grabbed a great spot. I am sure that just having my son Matthew in the car guarantees me a good parking spot, but that story is for another day.

We got out of the car and immediately felt the beating hot sun on us. It was so hot outside that I could feel the sweat starting to bead on my neck and my shorts stick to my thighs in seconds. I threw hats on the kids’ heads, organized my backpack of supplies and dumped the baby in the stroller. Off we went into the park for a day at a child’s wonderland and an adult’s bad dream come alive.

The moment I walked through the park’s gate I wanted to turn around and leave. My throat was already parched. The beads of sweat had turned into a steady stream of water dripping down my neck and back. I was tired just from the walk from my car to the main entrance. My children and niece, who joined us for the day, even my husband, looked perky and excited. What did I get myself into?

Organizing the logistics for six people, all different ages and sizes, at Canada’s Wonderland, is a challenge. Matthew’s dream finally came true this year and he hit the magic number: 54. That is 54 inches tall, so that he qualifies to go on ANY ride. Julia, with shoes and puffy hair, hit another magic number: 48. That means she can go on almost any ride. Nessa, at 32 inches, is a bit more limited. I am 62 inches so it means I can go on any ride, but catch me going upside down and loop-de-loop. No way.

Every time we go to this wonderland it takes us a while to get in the groove, find our way around and do no more than stand at the entrance and yell at each other. Some want to go on a roller coaster and others want to start with a gentle ride. The baby would be happy to just run around in circles and maybe play with a cardboard box. I personally voted to run fast to the exit and head home.

We finally agreed on a simple ride that most could go on, and of course, it had broken down. So the older two headed for a roller coaster while we took the younger two girls to a gentle kiddie ride: the swans. The line didn’t seem too long on first glance, but it doesn’t move. We stood there, in the blaring hot sun with no shade in sight for about 5 minutes then had enough. Why does it take so long to strap a child into a giant swan-shaped boat?

We finally found another gentle ride for the girls with a reasonably short line and they were happy. Then we zoomed across the park to partake in a free buffet lunch. I didn’t care what the lunch was – all I cared was that it was free. A slice of pizza at this place is almost $8! And the line-ups for food? Oh my gosh. I would rather go hungry than stand in line for 30 minutes for low quality food.

After we filled ourselves with our free low-quality food, at least in a relatively cool covered area, it was back to the masses. We ate lunch in the corner of an area called Medieval Times, with castle architecture and all. But to get to the next ride we had to walk through the Oktoberfest celebrations. Imagine a huge area filled with picnic tables and hundreds of people drinking beer. At the centre of it all was a stage with a pair of middle aged men dressed in lederhosen on it, singing their version of popular music. And they were totally tone deaf. I tried my best to push through the crowds of drunk people who clearly didn’t notice the loud off-key music.

Back to the long lines for rides we went on. Have you ever noticed the very strong odor that people emit when they are crowded together in a long line on a hot day? The smell permeates everywhere and gets worse as the day goes on. I will say that at least, for the most part, the people standing in line for kiddie rides are pleasant and provide good entertainment during the long wait. They all smell bad but we smile through it all together.

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We made efficient use of seats on a ride and got all four in together

Winner of the oddest moment of the day came when I stood in line with my two-year-old for the toddler train ride. You stand in line for at least 20 minutes (this line is at least in the shade) so you can cram your adult behind into a kiddie-sized seat on a mini train and travel for 6 minutes along a slow track at 15 kilometers per hour. We all stood patiently in line with our small children until we made our way to the front. I chatted in a friendly manner with the woman ahead of me, who was in line by herself. I figured she was a smart one and was waiting in line alone while her child (or children) went on another ride. But no one had arrived when we arrived at the  front of the line.

The operator of the ride opened the gate for the woman to enter and stopped her when she clearly didn’t have a child with her. He explained that adults HAD to have a child with them in order to ride the mini train. Had to? Of course they do. Who would want to go on this ride unless they had a child with them? This woman laughed sheepishly and I was faced with a decision: do I look the other way and have him send her on her way or do I smile and invite her to join us? I invited her to join us. Yes, very strange, but she was pleasant and friendly and sang along with Nessa during our six-minute ride. We all yelled “choo choo” together.

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I survived the antique car with the two-year-old at the wheel

Since I only dare to step foot in this wonderland up to once per year, we always stay the whole day, until it’s dark and closed. The day wore on and eventually the heat subsided and the crowds thinned just a little. My eleven-year-old went on his first “adult-only” ride. The eight-year-old went on her first real roller coaster. And the baby experienced her first ever amusement park rides, long lines, sweaty people and all.

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Selfie on a swan with Matthew age 11

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Selfie on a swan in the same spot with Matthew, age 2

Once it was dark outside and the park lights were on we finally lumbered our way, with the thundering hordes, to the exit. On cue, my son announced he was hungry. A random stranger stopped us and handed us his unused food vouchers, worth $20. The park was about to close and our food selection was limited. But the Starbucks, of course, was still open and with $20 in free snacks everyone chose a treat.

After a long, hot, sweaty and hectic day at my children’s wonderland, when every muscle in my body hurt and I smelled like week-old bread, we ended on a high. There’s nothing like caffeine and sugar to perk you up, especially when it’s free. Thanks again to that friendly stranger who handed over your vouchers. You made my day.

Halifax is my Home away from Home

Halifax

I have had a bit of a whirlwind summer and have been lucky enough to travel quite a bit. As I have written many times, travel is the greatest gift I can give myself. Sometimes it is exhausting and frustrating but the stress and fatigue that come with travel are worth it. This past weekend I had the opportunity to visit and enjoy one of my favourite cities, Halifax. I have visited this city so many times that it has almost become my home away from home.

This summer I have spent every weekend in a different place. It all began with my trip to Scotland. The second weekend was spent at my family’s country home, near the southern shores of Georgian Bay. Then I had a weekend in Toronto, as we hosted family from abroad. And this past weekend I was in Halifax, the city I love so much.

The reason I traveled, with my family, to Halifax, was for the annual visit to our beloved Camp Kadimah, where my children go to overnight camp. Yes, I put my children on an airplane each summer and send them hundreds of kilometers away to Nova Scotia to go to camp. Besides the fact that Camp Kadimah is the greatest place for my children to spend a summer, it gives me the chance to visit Halifax in late July.

What is so special about Halifax, you ask?

First of all, it has all the amenities, history and culture that you get in a big city but in miniature. It’s not to say that Halifax is tiny, but it is a small city. It’s easy to get around, with polite drivers and friendly pedestrians. Fellow cars let you in when you change lanes and gently stop at crosswalks to allow you to walk across the road.

Then there is the waterfront, or as the signs say, the “Harbourwalk.” The heart of downtown, by the water, is a sprawling, clean boardwalk. It goes on and on, from the historic seaport where new immigrants docked in Canada for decades, all the way into the harbour to the casino. Along the boardwalk are restaurants, cafes, a couple museums, benches, stores and even a small playground. It’s adult and child-friendly, and during the summer it is populated by locals and tourists alike. We walked up and down this fabulous stretch in the morning, afternoon and even late at night and always felt welcome and safe.

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Nessa kind of enjoyed our first afternoon on the Harbourwalk with her grandmother and cousin

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This was my view from dinner on Friday evening

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This is the boardwalk, where everyone can be silly.

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Nessa invented a new kind of pole dancing at the Seaport.

Do I sound like a paid advertisement for the city of Halifax? Eek, that’s not the intention here. There is just this warm feeling I get when I am driving around, walking the streets or even checking into my hotel. And sometimes I wonder, when I bite into a fresh piece of halibut, tuna or haddock, if the reason I eat fish today is because of this city. I didn’t like fish of any kind until I tasted the real, fresh kind. I ate more fish this past weekend than I eat all year.

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We found a new Japanese restaurant and loved the tuna tataki in particular

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Enjoying a snack downtown with roadside food.

Every time I visit Halifax (and I have visited too many times to count) it draws me in and I begin to imagine what my life would be like if I lived there. No, I’m not selling my house tomorrow and moving to Nova Scotia. But the thought, the feeling, the question, jumps into my head over and over. People seem happier, more at ease and more full of life in this east coast city.

They are a stone’s throw away from beautiful maritime towns like Lunenburg and Mahone Bay. You can smell the fresh saltwater air even on a hot day downtown. It is not just okay but it’s encouraged to paint your house bright red or pale yellow. There seems to be a bar at every corner, if you like that kind of thing. When Waze tells me it will take ten minutes to drive across town, it actually takes ten minutes. There is a new unique central public library and also a Discover Centre. And Camp Kadimah is only a 90-minute drive.

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Need I say more? BEST ice cream.

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Selfie at COWS. Enough said.

Maybe I am just coming down from a high after an exhilarating four-day weekend away when I didn’t have to cook and clean. Maybe I am suffering from a bit of heat stroke after I walked the city for hours in what felt like forty-degree heat. Or maybe Halifax really is as great a city as I have hyped it up to be and there is a good reason why I consider it to be my home away from home. For now, I will keep visiting, and we will see where life takes me.

I Climbed Another Mountain and many Steps too

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Scotland is not a flat country. It doesn’t have huge mountains like the Rockies or Alps, but it’s hilly and curvy. In the middle of rolling hills, you may find a few small mountains. As you drive north, you pass through the Grumpian Mountains and into the beauty of the Highlands. In a car you climb and go down over and over again. On foot it’s the same thing. How many stone steps did I go up and down this past week? And I even climbed another mountain.

I wouldn’t say I am the most fit person in the world. I’m not in bad shape and I do eat well. I am short and slim and happy about that. Running is not my thing nor is hiking up a very steep path. But, I do enjoy moderate exercise, and I’m always happy to walk a fair distance, especially to see something interesting.

Over the past week I climbed and climbed. Most people would say that the best view is at the top. In an old castle there is only one way up: the stairs. Our week began with a visit to the Wallace National Monument, which stands on the edge of the town of Stirling. It commemorates the great William Wallace, and the monument is a massive tower, on the top of a hill. First, we climbed up an easy snaking path then we went into the monument and climbed 246 steps up a winding stairwell to the top. We learned about the Scottish-English battles of the 13thand 14thcenturies, enjoyed the views, then climbed back down. If I really wanted, I could have bought a t-shirt that said I had climbed the 246 steps. I didn’t.

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Photo from the top – 246 steps

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That’s the Wallace Monument. I climbed that.

We spent our first night in Inverness, which is the capital of the Highlands, and to get there, our little car had to work hard and climb through those mountains. On our second day we visited Loch Ness and Urquhart castle. At this castle, on the edge of the loch, we climbed down first from the road then up again to experience the spectacular views (and look out for the monster!). There is a reason why Kings, Queens, Dukes, Earls and Barons always had a bed chamber high up in the castle – it’s where you get the best view!

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Selfie from the top of Urquhart Castle, overlooking Loch Ness.

On our third day in Scotland we toured three very different castles. The first one, Dunnottar, on the edge of the North Sea and its famous cliffs, was all about the climbing. I didn’t count the number of steps we climbed to first go down to the castle and then go up, but I’m sure it was similar to that 246 we climbed at the Wallace Monument.

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Can you believe someone built a castle there?

Crathes and Craigievar castles were built in the 16thcentury by noble families, and they are both big and tall. What does that mean? A lot of stairs. Craigievar’s pink granite, seven floors and soaring turrets makes it look like it is straight out of a fairy tale. Some say it may even have been the inspiration for Disney’s Cinderella castle.  Whatever the inspiration, you need to have your climbing shoes on to visit its many floors and learn about the history of its many owners, including “Red” Sir John Forbes who found his daughter in the arms of his enemy’s son. He gave the guy two options: a duel or jump from the fourth-floor window. The kid chose to jump. Bad idea.

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This is Crathes Castle. Tall and slim.

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It’s hard to tell in this photo I took, but that stone is pink and oh the turrets.

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Selfie from the upper deck, seven floors up, at Craigievar.

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We passed a ski resort in the highlands. Really

The city of Edinburgh has some steep hills and it also has some extinct volcanoes in the heart of downtown. Really, I’m serious. Google it. The incredible and imposing castle in the centre of town sits atop one of them and behind a famous palace, called Holyrood Palace, down the Royal Mile, sits another. We toured the castle and hiked up the other mountain. I wouldn’t say climbed is even the correct word as it was a true hike, with very steep inclines, boulders, pebbles and cliffs. Unlike my winter icy mountain climb, I easily scaled this one and enjoyed the 360 degree view from the top (spot known as Arthur’s Seat) tremendously. And then I climbed down.

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This is Edinburgh Castle. Good luck climbing that mountain and storming this fortress.

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We had to take a selfie after we climbed this mountain in the city.

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The view from the top really is spectacular.

Traveling through Scotland I sat in a moving car a lot so that we could cover so much of the land. I also ate some scrumptious food (I tried vegetarian haggis, sorry I’m not adventurous enough to try the real thing). And I climbed. A lot. This country is not for the faint of heart. Bring your quality walking shoes and get ready to explore some amazing places.

The Answer to Everything in Life is 42

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Today I learned that the answer to everything in life is 42. Don’t worry, I will never abandon number 17, which will forever be my favourite. But today I learned why number 42 is so significant. Could it be that the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything really is 42? Or is this number only significant to me now because today is my birthday and today I turned 42?

I guess 42 is a nice, even, solid number. It is divisible in so many ways (practice your math… 21 x 2, 14 x 3 or 6 x7). It shows you have definitely reached the age of some maturity, but you are still considered relatively young. I like that. I think 42 works for me.

And on my 42nd birthday I woke up in the beautiful Scottish Highlands city of Inverness and made my way across the country to the bustling city of Aberdeen. And I saw so much in between.

As I wrote about last week, my husband, David, and I just celebrated our 20th anniversary. We gave each other the gift of a trip, just us, to mark the important milestone. And we booked the trip to coincide with my birthday soon after. On Tuesday evening, with two kids at camp, and number three safely in the hands of my parents, we flew to Scotland for a short trip to a place I have wanted to see for so many years.

Why Scotland, so many people asked me. Aren’t there great places to visit closer to home or across Canada? Weren’t you just in London a few months ago? The answer to all of these questions is, yes. I love to travel in Canada and have been lucky to see so much of the country. And I will be traveling out to Nova Scotia in a few weeks to visit my kids at camp. But Scotland is a place I have dreamed about for over twenty years. It’s historic cities, ancient castles, lakes (or lochs as they call them here) and scenic countryside intrigued me. The rich history of its people, clans, kings, queens, warfare and dedication to its freedom drew me to it.

I’m finally here. And I love it.

I woke up this morning, on the day I turned 42, in the northern part of Scotland. Inverness is small but mighty and I loved my short stay there. Our first stop was a short drive south to the famous Loch Ness and a ruined castle on the shores of this mysterious lake.

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Meir this photo is for you. Yes this place is great.

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Selfie on a bridge over River Ness in Inverness

Urquhart castle changed hands many times (different groups liked to invade it and plunder it until it was finally burnt down, intentionally, in the late 17thcentury). As I stood atop the castle’s tower, I could see why everyone wanted this place. I was mesmerized by the scenery and beauty of the lake. I don’t know if a little monster lives in those deep waters or not (but wow do the locals ever play that one up and sell every kind of merchandise imaginable), but that is one of the most beautiful lakes I have ever seen.

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Isn’t this a great spot to celebrate a birthday?

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I could have stood and stared all day

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Which one should I buy? My daughter’s name is Nessa…

Back in our little rental we went (I could write a whole blog post about David driving a manual shift car on the left side of the road) and drove northeast to the town of Findhorn, on the North Sea. We had booked a two-hour nature and wildlife boat tour on the North Sea, and I’m so glad we did. We had blue skies and sunshine, gentle waters and warm temperatures.

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Don’t worry the car was in park here.

The only problem was that the wildlife, for the most part, decided to take an afternoon nap. The seals were cute and there were hundreds of birds. But the dolphins and whales were in hiding. No problem. The boat and water were pleasant, our guide was friendly and knowledgeable and the other passengers were friendly. David and I were the only non-Scots in the group, so maybe we seemed exotic to them.

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A selfie just before we left the dock.

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Do you see the seal’s head popping out of the water?

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Thousands of birds live in nests on this cliff

We took the long, rather indirect route along the coast all afternoon, on our way to our day’s final destination of Aberdeen. We drove through adorable beach towns like Cullen and Banff (the original one, not in Alberta) and stopped in the fishing town of Peterhead for dinner.

Thanks to too many Google searches, I discovered that Peterhead is one of, if not the largest fishing port in the UK and that there was a local restaurant in its fish market that was highly recommended. There was no mention of how hard it was to find. There are few things more frustrating, after a long day of driving, when you are hungry, then searching for a restaurant that doesn’t want to be found. After 30 minutes of going in circles we found the Dolphin Café, 25 minutes before it closed for the day. But it was worth it. Those may be one of the best fish and chips I have ever had.

We continued on our way south down the coast to today’s final destination of Aberdeen. I don’t know much about this city other than it is the hub of the oil and gas industry in the UK and it’s a popular location for my TV show House Hunters. I am sitting here in my hotel room right now, in the heart of downtown with a view over the city and even the water, and the city seems nice. We had to circle for a long time to find our hotel, and I won’t go into the details of that meltdown (as in my meltdown).

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I took this photo of the North Sea from the car. I just love it.

My birthday was topped off this evening at a local café, where I finally got my piece of birthday cake. What’s a birthday, especially birthday number 42, without cake. Sticky toffee pudding and toffee cheesecake. You can’t go wrong.

Our road trip through Scotland continues for a few more days, as we head into Cairngorms National Park to see some castles then down to Edinburgh for some city fun. I am loving every minute of my anniversary and birthday tour. The big question now is, where will we go next?

Can you be a Tourist a few Blocks from home?

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I love to travel around the world and often start planning my next trip while traveling on another. I was lucky enough to visit family in Israel in April then have a bonus few days to be a tourist in London with my husband and kids. And in a few weeks, to celebrate our anniversary, David and I will be in Scotland for a few days (details coming in July!).  But as I plan all these fabulous trips I sometimes lose sight of the great things to see and experience in my own city. Not only my own city, my own neighbourhood.

I had the opportunity to play tour guide to a good friend of mine this week who was visiting from Western Canada. Adam actually lived most of his life in Toronto and moved with his family to Kelowna ten years ago. He has taught me so much about architecture, heritage homes and walking through old city neighbourhoods. It’s hard to find even a small part of the city that Adam hasn’t seen.

But I found one, just a few blocks from my home.

I have tried to be a tourist in my own city as often as I can, discovering beautiful hidden gems like Spadina House, for example.  But sometimes it’s more than about just one house – it’s a whole neighbourhood, of houses, trees, a park and even a pond.

I am referring to a small, private enclave in the heart of Toronto called Wychwood Park.  It was created late in the 19thcentury as an artists’ colony and named after a town, called Wychwood, in Oxfordshire, England. The area was rural and the city grew up around it. There is even a creek that was damned to create a large pond, in the centre of the neighbourhood.

Taking a walk through this neighbourhood on a beautiful spring afternoon is my idea of heaven. Deep in Wychwood, surrounded by spectacular homes, two-hundred-year-old trees and even a pond, on the edge of downtown Toronto, is something special. You can’t even hear the noise of the city with all its hustle and bustle.

And Adam, the guy that knows everything about Toronto, its neighbourhoods and heritage homes, had no idea this special place existed. We walked slowly on the quiet streets of Wychwood Park then continued our tour through the wider area, with so many more beautiful streets.

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We had to take a selfie in Wychwood Park

Our tourist in my own city afternoon was capped off with a visit to the delectable Dutch Dreams. This place is more than just your basic ice cream parlour. You will find the usual basics like chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. But there’s also fun flavours like caramel turtle fudge, moose droppings or Hawaiian delight.

We each chose a single scoop in a sugar cone. At most ice cream parlours that’s all you get. But not at this place. Adam was a bit overwhelmed when his “single scoop” cone was topped with fresh fruit, whipped cream and even cotton candy. Yes, he ate the whole thing. So did I.

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Adam happily tackled his ice cream!

I just loved being a tourist in my own city again, really in my own neighbourhood. Living in the heart of the city I am surrounded by gems like Wychwood Park. Adam, when you visit Toronto again in a couple of months, let’s find another.

A Little Bit of Airplane Courtesy Please

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In my forty plus years I have traveled on many airplanes, all over the world. The older I get, the crankier I get. Air travel is no longer considered a luxury, where passengers kick back, relax and are pampered along the way. It’s stressful, tiring, long and sometimes, just miserable. Airlines are eking out every last inch of space (and comfort) on their planes, in an attempt to increase profit. Knowing this is the reality today, as passengers, we need to work together to make the experience better. And that begins with some airplane courtesy.

Why are travelers so aggressive? Why, for the most part, do I feel like I am in competition for space, a spot in line or the last drop of coffee, when I’m flying to my destination? After almost three weeks of travel and four different flights during that trip, I learned a few lessons and picked up a few tips. Here I will share some of my thoughts and offer a bit of advice on how we can bring forward some airplane courtesy and hopefully make air travel a better experience for everyone.

I won’t go through the whole airport experience, as that is a blog post unto itself. No doubt the airport experience has been made increasingly stressful because of security, a tighter limit on baggage and the sheer number of people traveling. The main thing I will say about getting through an airport is to give yourself a ton of time. If you think you need our hour, come 90 minutes early. If you think you need two hours, give it almost 3.

Let’s focus here on bringing courtesy to the airplane experience and how we can all work together to make that happen.

Getting on the Plane

The airlines try to bring some order to the onboarding process, but for the most part, they do it really badly. Air Canada, for example, thinks that the business class passengers at the front and Elite members should board first, as a courtesy to them. But why board the front of the aircraft first, creating a log jam? Why not board from back to front, making it smoother for all? And why does the pre-board for passengers with young children or those who need extra assistance also happen after the business class group goes on? Makes no sense.

But since, for the most part, this is how it works, how about everyone stands in an orderly line and allow people space to get through in the order they are called? If I am traveling with my young children, with a stroller and bags, let me through the tight crowd so that I can get on the plane before your zone is called. And when I am walking down the tunnel with my kids, moving slowly, don’t shove me aside and try to pass me. The plane won’t leave any sooner and your seat will still be there.

Once on the plane, try your best to put your hand luggage above in a relatively swift manner and don’t block the aisle. If just one person blocks the aisle no one can board. It slows down the whole process and people get crabby.

Reclining your Seat

This may be the source of most of my crankiness on an airplane and possibly one of the areas where showing some courtesy would go a long way. I just traveled on four different planes on British Airways, where only 1/3 of the plane was, let’s call it, the economy section. The rest of the plane was made up of first class (wide individual pods), business class (smaller pods) and premium economy (regular seats, but wider and more leg room).  The economy seats were small, barely cushioned and had the minimal pitch allowed between seats. I’m a small person and I felt cramped.

Add to the fact that I had a baby on my lap (I’m not paying for a seat for the baby until she turns two, I’m too cheap), I had very little room. So, when the person ahead of me, just after take-off, reclined his seat all the way, I had maybe a few inches between my face and his seat.

Now I will admit, according to the rules, a paying passenger is perfectly within his or her rights to recline the seat. If the seat can recline, one can do it. If it’s a long flight, overnight maybe and the lights are out, okay, recline your seat. But all the way? And right after take-off? Could you show a bit of courtesy and notice that you had a woman behind you with a baby on her lap, with no space? Or at least move the seat back up when the food is served so that my tray didn’t constantly fall on my lap?

We are all on this tightly packed airplane together. If we show some courtesy and work together to be comfortable, it’s a better experience for everyone.

Getting Up and Down and Walking the Aisles

I like to sit in the aisle seat when traveling. I recognize that I have much less personal space on the aisle than the window but I just need to know that I can get up when I need to. Never mind that anytime I see the “vacant” sign show up on the toilet I run there. I’m always worried about being stuck in my seat and having to go. It’s just a personal obsession.

But, my seat is mine. It’s not a spot to lean on when chatting with your friends in the aisle. If you are sitting behind me, it’s not a tool you use to get up and down, pushing me forward or backward. We all have limited personal space on a tightly packed airplane, but show some courtesy for the person in the seat in front of you, especially if that person is asleep.

And on the issue of the aisles, these too have become tighter as airlines cram more seats across the plane. I know the seat and legroom are small, but please try to keep your legs/feet/arms out of the aisle. I don’t want to trip over you or walk into you and get the evil eye from you when I do so.

The Toilet

Every time I get on a plane I calculate how many toilets are on the plane and how many people need to share them. The big planes used for overseas flights have a higher toilet to person ratio, but there are never enough. But I can accept that. What I can’t accept is people abusing the toilets and treating them like their own dumping grounds. Can’t we all show some courtesy and keep them clean?

Some simple suggestions to keep the toilets clean:

  • Wipe the sink area if you spray water everywhere
  • Flush the toilet (I shouldn’t even have to say this, but really?)
  • Pick up any toilet paper or paper towel you drop on the floor and throw it out
  • If you finish the toilet paper, paper towel or soap, ask the flight attendant to load more
  • Use your time efficiently and please, if you can, don’t take too long. Again, the toilet to person ratio isn’t great. No one wants to wait too long to use the facilities.

Getting off the Plane

Once we have landed at our destination, everyone on that plane can’t wait to get off. No matter how aggressive everyone is lining up to get on, it’s nothing on how people behave once the plane has landed and arrived at the gate. We get off front to back, and it always takes a bit of time. So why do people at the middle and back have to jump out of their seats, leap into the aisle and push their way through? There’s nowhere to go. If I am in the row in front of you and I can’t go anywhere, why do you think you can, or why do you think that shoving me out of your way is good behaviour?

The basic courtesy of getting off the plane is to let people off row by row, patiently waiting for the people in front of you to collect their items from under their seats or above and walk forward. If the person needs a few extra moments, be patient. Maybe offer to help them? Smile. Don’t push them aside or jump in front of them. Let them get off the plane. And if we all do this in an orderly and courteous way, the process will probably move much faster.

Some other Quick Tips to show some courtesy:

  • If the touch screen for the audio/video system does not respond immediately to your fingers, don’t pound on it. It will work soon, and remember, pounding the screen means pounding on the back of the person in front of you.
  • If you have the window seat, you don’t have to open or close your blind but be aware of the people around you. People may be sleeping, so lower the blind. If the plane is landing and there’s a great view outside, open the blind and let others look too.
  • The arm rests are for all of us to share. While you may have one on each side of you, remember that you are sharing one (or both) with the person or people beside you. Resting your arms, or worse, pushing your elbows out, can be considered obnoxious.
  • Use your headphones. If you are watching a movie or TV show on your own device, no one else wants to hear it. Put on your headphones and keep them at a moderate sound level so that only you can hear what you are watching.

It’s hard to behave your best when travelling. From beginning to end the process is exhausting. It is my belief that airlines aren’t making it any easier for us. If you are willing and open to spend a bundle of money, it is definitely more pleasant in any and all of first class, business class or premium economy cabins, but that’s not an option for most people. So, my advice is simple, be courteous. We will all be better off.