The People’s Path and more

The mention of food ratcheted up my craving for a fat, juicy burger and fries. Forget the calories—and a tall, cold beer. Our destination, St. James’s Well Irish pub, a favorite of the Vancouver hikers. I took little notice of the dark, polished wood surrounds and the long wall of large front windows. Gimme a menu. Please. I must have been more dazed than I imagined as I ordered a grilled sirloin sandwich instead. I never eat sandwiches. Beyond disappointed, I dug in anyway but finished only two-thirds. It was tasty and quieted my hankering for food. The beer, though, arrived tall and warm. Warm after a parched hike. The simple lunch cost $25.00 but the company and camaraderie were priceless. Sigh.

The pub fare scented the air although the breeze outside had dropped. We exchanged warm goodbyes with promises of future meetings. The sun smiled large and benevolent; we moseyed to the SUV and soon a nap—I hoped. Almost 7:00 p.m. Ontario time, I lumbered slow as a turtle in January due to a full tummy and a (warm) beer-buzzed brain.

A nap did not happen. We rested till evening, visiting and catching up on email. My three compadres chose to watch a movie. The day finally ended at an exhausting 2:00 a.m., Ontario time.

Doorway to the deck and sunshine

The next morning, after a late lumberjack’s breakfast, Jean and Michael suggested a visit to West Vancouver’s Centennial Seawalk for a stroll. The light jacket weather was perfect for the two-kilometer outing (x 2).

At the start:

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The paved walkway filled with a brisk and surging crowd yet not congested. I avoided photographing strangers and loved this relaxed walk and scenery.

Along the way:

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The end of the line, on the way back to the car park. For a change, I have a zillion pictures, too many to post.

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Additional images of the Centennial Seawalk

Another full day, a late supper, and a delightful treat in someone’s front yard around the block from Jean and Michael’s. I want one of these on my lawn, I do. I do. Don’t you? The thought is tempting but I cannot be trusted to not spend all day at the window. When books were exchanged, I’d race out for first scrutiny soon as the bibliophile departed. I had better not entertain the idea. . .

Next on March 2^nd: North to Alaska: Vancouver Lookout Tower

© 2018 Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles

25 Ways to Kill Time at Chicago Airport

I thought I’d revisit the China posts. Some of you haven’t seen them. Enjoy.

Warning: This is longer than my usual posts. Also Note: Newbie person traveling. Some of this may be old hat to you.

Image by Sally at https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/

We didn’t need to worry about our luggage as it flew ahead direct from Toronto to Beijing. What a blessing, yet this causes me discomfort not knowing exactly where it might be. A whole string of what ifs torment me anyway. The most nagging: what if my luggage goes to the wrong destination? Pul-eese. It’ll be fine. I’d packed two changes of clothing in my carry-on thanks to advice from my blogging friends.

It turns out we’re a long way from the main building and a shuttle arrives as we land in Chicago. We jumped aboard in a fine spring mist, hoping for delivery to the correct terminal. We then jogged in the now drizzle to the entrance. First stop a washroom.

What is this? I feel like a country mouse. The toilet had unusual self-sanitizing seats. Think ultra-soft (memory foam). This video shows better than I can explain:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cokBht49qt8

Only five hours and 45 minutes to kill.

Now, what? We saw Starbucks and MacDonalds; a kind of deli; various health food shops; tons of neck pillows and sunglasses;  books and magazines, and a bar or two. Maybe we should have considered sampling our way through the food shops to keep busy.

25 Ways to Kill Time in the Chicago Airport:

1. Walk, limp, stumble. keep moving.
2. Learn to avoid lineups around boarding and arrivals gates on both sides of the building.
3. Dodge weary travelers more concerned about their wheelies than who’s in front or behind them.
4. Gape at the zillions of people (I don’t get out enough), from all parts of the world, who arrive and depart in giant waves like schools of fish—big ones— with luggage
5. Close your mouth time and again and do your best not to stick out as if you’d just left the cabbage patch. Isn’t the world a big and confusing place?
6. Make a deposit at each washroom you wander past. When the opportunity presents itself, you might as well grab it. Best keep your tank empty.
7. Hang around the unusual new-fangled toilets. What will they think of next? (refer to Youtube video). I wondered how often the plastic covers were replaced and asked an attendant, but she didn’t know either.
8. Stand in long lines to buy food/water even though not hungry
9. Fight the crowd to buy coffee.
10. Search for an empty table to rest aching feet. Why were all the tables occupied? Pull out my now soggy pizza out of your carry-on.
    

    At Chicago O’Hare Airport killing time

    
    

11. Take pictures of a plane through a restaurant window, not exactly proof you’re in Chicago but what the heck.
12. After tiring yourself out walking around the gargantuan airport, sit and try to read or people watch.
13. Comb the gift shops for a Chicago fridge magnets but don’t buy one. They were too expensive at $5.99 each (U.S. dollars of course) and tiny—the width of two of today’s postage stamps.
14. Check the screen for your gate early. Why is the waiting area full already. Lucky to find a seat each.
15. Count tall people / short people. If they keep shifting up and down. start over and give up.
16. Survey couples in boarding area to guess which ones might be going to Beijing. (Sue spied a couple from our Toronto flight).
17.  Without hesitation, strike up a conversation and ask if they are on your tour.  knows how to peg them. They are going our way.
18. Stare at the time in two-minute intervals, which doesn’t move it any faster. One hour and 25 minutes to boarding.
19. Notice a planeload of pilots attached to wheelie carry-ons, who mill about purchasing food. Have you seen so many at once? Why are they hungry? Are they arrivals or departures?
20. Gawk and wonder how all these pilots happen to be so good looking, but much more important, fret if they are indeed old enough for the job? Most look around fifteen.
    

    Someone’s tired of waiting and waiting and waiting

21. Shift and re-shift from one numb butt cheek to the other and blink faster than a turn signal to stay awake. Eyes too dry to read? You wuss. You’ve only been awake 29 hours. Fifteen and a little bit to go.
22. Evade running and screaming children
23. Stew over whose toddler is wandering around alone. Not your responsibility, but where are the parents? You want to know, don’t you? Where ARE they? No one’s paying attention to the little guy. Nobody.
24. Line up as directed with visa and boarding pass to get the visa to China stamped. This takes five minutes. One hour and 15 minutes to go
25. Spy a female pilot. Wow! She looks about 40, old enough and experienced compared to the fifteen-year-old male pilots. You could trust her but where’s her crew?

The clock clicks one mouse whisker at a time. Time’s up. Boarding is announced by a distorted male voice. Not unlike unconscious sleepwalkers, you funnel into lines and shuffle forward, necessary papers clutched and eyes begging for toothpicks.

*  * *

Next on December 23rd – A Pause for Thanks and Christmas

©Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles.

For more related posts, click on China tab above

Day 1 (cont’d): Killing Time at Chicago Airport

Warning: This is longer than my usual posts. Also Note: Newbie travelling. Some of this maybe old hat to you.

* * *

We don’t need to worry about our luggage as it flew ahead direct from Toronto to Beijing. What a blessing, yet this causes me discomfort not knowing exactly where it might be. A whole string of what ifs torment me anyway. The most nagging: what if my luggage goes to the wrong destination? Pul-eese. It’ll be fine. I’d packed two changes of clothing in my carry-on thanks to advice from my blogging friends.

It turns out we’re a long way from the main building and a shuttle arrives as we land in Chicago. We jump on in a fine spring mist hoping we’re delivered to the right terminal, then jog in the now drizzle to the entrance. First stop a washroom.

What is this? I feel like a country mouse. The toilet has unusual self-sanitizing seats. Think ultra-soft (memory foam). This video will show you best: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cokBht49qt8

Only five hours and 45 minutes to kill.

Now what? We see nothing but Starbucks, McDonalds, a kind of deli, various healthy food shops, tons of neck pillows and sunglasses on offer, books and magazines, and a bar or two. Maybe we should consider sampling our way through all the food shops to keep busy. Instead, in no particular order we:

1. Walk, limp, stumble. keep moving
2. Learn to avoid lineups around boarding and arrivals gates on both sides of the building
3. Dodge weary travelers more concerned about their wheelies than who’s in front or behind them
4. Gape at the zillions of people (I don’t get out enough), from all parts of the world, who arrive and depart in giant waves like schools of fish—big ones— with luggage
5. I close my mouth time and again and do my best not to stick out as if I’d just left the cabbage patch. The world is such a big and confusing place.
6. Make a deposit at each washroom we wander past. When the opportunity presents itself, I figure it’s best to grab it. Best keep the tank empty.
7. Hang around the unusual new-fangled toilets. What will they think of next? (refer to Youtube video). I wonder how often the plastic covers are replaced and ask an attendant, but she doesn’t know either.
8. Stand in long lines to buy food / water even though not hungry
9. Fight the crowd to buy coffee
10. Search for an empty table to rest aching feet. Why are all the tables occupied? Pull out my now soggy pizza out of my carry-on.
    

    At Chicago O’Hare Airport killing time

    
    

11. Take pictures of a plane through restaurant window, not exactly proof I’m in Chicago but what the heck
12. After tiring ourselves out walking around the gargantuan airport, sit and try to read or people watch
13. Sue combs the gift shops for a Chicago fridge magnets but doesn’t buy one. They are $5.99 each (U.S. dollars of course) and tiny—the width of two of today’s postage stamps.
14. Check the screen for our gate too early but the waiting area is full already. Lucky to find a seat each.
15. Count tall people / short people but they keep shifting up and down. Start over. Give up.
16. Survey couples in boarding area to guess which ones might be going to Beijing. Sue spies a couple from our Toronto flight.
17.  Without hesitation, we approach them and Sue strikes up a conversation and yes she knows how to peg them. They are going our way.
18. Stare at the time in two-minute intervals but it doesn’t move any faster. One hour and 25 minutes to boarding.
19. Notice a planeload of pilots attached to carry-ons on wheelies, who mill about purchasing food. I’d never seen so many at once. Why are they hungry? Are they arrivals or departures?
20. Gawk and wonder how all these pilots happen to be so good looking, but much more important, fret if they are indeed old enough for the job? Most look around fifteen.
    

    Someone’s tired of waiting and waiting and waiting

21. Shift and re-shift from one numb butt cheek to the other and blink faster than a turn signal to stay awake. Can’t read. You wuss. You’ve only been awake 29 hours. Fifteen and a little bit to go.
22. Evade running and screaming children
23. Stew over whose toddler is wandering around alone. Not my responsibility, but where are the parents? I want to know. Where ARE they? No-ones paying attention to the little guy.
24. Line up as directed with visa and boarding pass to get the visa to China stamped. This takes five minutes. One hour and 15 minutes to go
25. Spy a female pilot. Wow! My guess is she’s about 40. Old enough and I expect she has lots of experience under her belt. I could trust her but where’s her crew?

The clock clicks one mouse hair at a time. Time’s up. Boarding is announced by a distorted male voice. Not unlike not conscious  sleepwalkers, we funnel into lines and shuffle forward, necessary papers clutched.

*  * *

Next Friday: Are We There Yet? A Long Haul to Beijing: 13 hours, 40 minutes