Full Circe - Day 3 - The Return Journey

9/26/16, “The Return Journey”

Quebec City Jean Lesage Internation Airport, Quebec (YQB)

It is only six hours since I was writing from outside my hotel last night, and I will be back at my office in less than five hours.  This has been a short trip by any stretch, but it was well-designed and perfectly executed.  It was a steep price to pay to do 20 hours of driving in two days, but it was well worth it, and I am quite glad to have finally made it to Miguasha National Park.

This trip has been called Full Circle for reasons described last night, but I also put in a lot of effort into designing the trip to further fit into that theme.  When I went to Canada with my friend’s for NYE in 2012, we drove from Westchester to Toronto, across from Toronto to Quebec, and back down from Quebec to Westchester.  We did it in seven days.  This time, I flew to Toronto and back from Quebec, but the Canadian portion of the drive was much the same.  When I did my two provincial capitals trips (October 2014 and July 2016), I stayed at Delta Hotels.  Since I was in Toronto to see the provincial legislative assembly there, I made sure to stay at a Delta hotel.  When I did my National Park trip in July 2013, I stayed at a Days Inn on the way back to Edmonton.  On the way to Miguasha National Park, I stayed at the Days Inn in Edmundston (sic).  Then, of course, I stayed at the L’Intendant last night, where it all began.

My adventure in Quebec was a repeat of things I have done multiple times.  All in all, this trip allowed me to relive a lot of great memories of my 9 previous trips to Canada over the past four years, and I was very glad to have come full circle in this manner.  I reflected on my time in Canada during last night’s entry, and I do not have much more to say.  Anything I might write further would preempt the things I intend to say when I do my “Canada Complete” trip to Newfoundland and Labrador next summer, so I will leave it at this.  We will soon be boarding, so I need to close anyway, but I wanted to get this airport entry in before I left.  As is my tradition, I will treat the return journey in its entirety once I get back to New York.

En route, NYC Taxi 7J94

12 hours ago, I was getting gas as I entered the city of Quebec.  Now, I am in a taxi on the way back to my apartment.  I left LGA 60 hours ago, and the trip itself is now coming full circle.  The return journey was almost entirely unadventurous, and I have a fun fact.  Reader, recall how I had to go back to my apartment to pick up my computer charger.  Well, I have not charged my laptop once this trip yet, and the remaining charge will be more than sufficient to write and publish this entry.  In other words, I didn’t even need the charger.

Okay, so, the return journey.  After I closed, I headed up to my room and did everything I needed to do to get ready for the morning.  I set two alarms and fell asleep.  I don’t even think I got my 2 full REM cycles.  I got ready and headed out.  I was surprised to see so many cars on the road at 3:30 AM, but I was soon at the airport, which, too, was surprisingly crowded for that hour.  I had half of my Toscano and went to security.  I was surprised that they didn’t do border control at the airport here, which is the typical process for when I fly home from Canada.  Instead, I would clear border control at Kennedy.  There were flights from this airport to US Destinations, domestic destinations, and even a flight to Cancun.

I headed to the duty-free shop and, in a first, saw Cubans for sale at a Canadian airport.  Was I allowed to buy them?  She told me that I was allowed to bring a certain dollar amount of Cubans back to the US from Canada.  Was that true?  I had never heard of that before.  I bought a pack of five cigars, Cohiba Siglo II, my favorite, and it was slightly under that dollar amount, actually about half of the price of what it would have cost in the city of Toronto.  I also got some maple syrup goods, which I’m sure I’ll regret by the end of the week.

I got a bagel sandwich for breakfast, along with hash browns and coffee.  I scarfed it down and headed the gate.  We were not yet boarding, so I proceeded to write my airport entry.  I was the first one on the plane, and I ordered my usual beverage for when I am taking a first-class flight at this hour: coffee and whiskey.  I finished it before we took off.  It would be a short flight, only an hour in the air, and I fell asleep about halfway through.

I woke up as were landing.  Then it was the usual process for any international flight.  I headed to border control, scanned my passport at the kiosk, and went to the customs checkpoint.  He asked a few questions, including if I was bringing anything back.  I pointed to the bag of maple products.  That was that.  I waited on line for the taxi and, once we were on the road, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish, along with closing at this trip.  Next stop: Texas with my mother to see the Alamo and other sites in the area.

Full Circle - Day 2 - My White Whale

9/25/16, “My White Whale”

Quebec, Quebec

Printed on my passport, under “Date of Issue”, is the date 9/24/12.  That means that it would have been four years ago today when the passport arrived in the mail.  It had been eight years since I had left the country at that time.  It was a Tuesday, so that Saturday, I woke up early, rented a car, and drove up to Canada, to this very hotel where I am staying tonight.  I have come full circle.

Including that first trip, this marks the, I believe, 10^th time I have ventured to Canada since receiving that passport.  My travels over those four years have brought me to six continents and 65 countries, but each of the ten trips to Canada was special in its own way, and, whenever I come here to Quebec, it always feels like I’m home.  This is the fourth time I have been in Quebec since receiving that passport, and it will be the last for quite some time.

In fact, I expect that the next time I come here will be on a new passport, as I do not expect my travels to bring me back to Eastern Canada anytime in the next six years.  I will be going to British Columbia (Western Canada) and Newfoundland and Labrador (Atlantic Canada) next year, but Eastern Canada is done for the time being.  It is the part of Canada that feels like home, so it was bittersweet saying “Eastern Canada Complete” today, but I took great pride in the adventures that allowed me to do it, despite being thwarted twice previously in my attempt to see Miguasha National Park, my white whale.

By and large, today was a boring day, but Miguasha National Park was the main impetus for this trip.  It is the reason why I drove 20 hours over the course of 48, rather than just flying to Toronto for the weekend.  It is the reason I am taking a 5:30 AM flight tomorrow morning rather than flying home tonight.  Was it worth it?  Absolutely.

After I closed last night, I soon fell asleep, waking up after getting 3 REM cycles, which would barely be enough to function, especially given that I was going to be driving close to nine hours today.  Breakfast was extremely disappointing, but the coffee was good, and that was what mattered most.  I lit up a Toscano after breakfast as I got ready.  I then headed out.  It would be close to three hours to get to Miguasha, and I was looking at a hard noon arrival if I was lucky.  I had hoped to stop at a Tim Horton’s for a proper breakfast and tie that in with my gas stop, but I had no such luck.

Instead, I stopped for a gas at an old-fashioned gas station with full service.  I had mentioned last night that my drive was without incident, but that was not entirely true.  I had run over a hard traffic cone at one of the construction areas, and that had caused the air in one of my tires to deflate considerably, especially combined with the cold air, I realized.  PV = nRT.  P is Pressure, V is Volume, T is Temperature.  If the temperature goes down, either pressure or volume has to go down (or both).  They had an air compressor at the gas station.  I also got another lighter, an Acadian flag pin, and more coffee.

I lit up a Fuente, and it was a straight shot from there to Miguasha National Park.  Soon enough, I crossed the bridge back into Quebec, and, before long, I saw the signs for Miguasha National Park.  You couldn’t miss it.  I was unsure if they had a Plaque, since I couldn’t find it online, but, sure enough, to my delight, they did.  It was a podium-style Plaque, angled and about four feet off the ground.

I enlisted the help of the first person I saw in taking my ceremonial picture with the Plaque.  She was five feet tall.  This would be no easy task for her to get the right angle.  I had to kneel on the ground to make it work.  I tortured her a bit in getting the perfect photo, but we did in the end.  I went into the VC, which had a gift shop and an information/ticket station with rangers.  They liked to talk.  A lot.  It was quite a process.  I didn’t need a full lecture.  I just needed to know where the inscription photo was taken.

Eventually, he told me and sold me my ticket.  I think it was 12:30 PM at this point.  So much for my hard noon arrival.  In case my reader is unaware what I mean by the term hard arrival, I should contrast it with soft arrival.  If the GPS says that I will be at a site at 12:00 PM, that is a soft arrival.  It means the time I arrive at the address in my car.  The hard arrival time is when I have parked, gotten everything I need out of the car, and walked into the building.  That usually takes about 5-10 minutes.  Part of my issue during my big Eurotrip three years ago was that all my calculations were based on soft arrival times, and, when you are stopping at 5 or more sites a day, the difference can add up to close an hour a day.  I have since learned to never plan to arrive at a site less than an hour before closing time.

I walked through the fossil exhibit and down to the fossil cliffs, which was where the inscription photo was taken, at the bottom of the staircase.  I had lit up my Hoyo de Monterrey, the last I would smoke from the box I got in Rio, and I relished the moment.  I teased that I had been thwarted twice but that it couldn’t escape me.  It was time.

I took my ceremonial picture and announced, “Quebec Complete.  Eastern Canada Complete, [unpublishable]!  Finally!!!”  I took some more ceremonial pictures up and down the fossil cliffs, but it was just more of the same as what I saw at Joggins in July.  The wind made the cigar burn quickly, and I was very grateful for the sweatshirt I had bought in PEI that trip.  I headed up and ditched the cigar outside the VC and got my souvenirs before getting back on the road.

It was about 1:30 PM at that point, and I hadn’t eaten lunch yet.  I was looking at a hard arrival at the hotel in Quebec of 8 PM.  That meant I would not be getting to sleep before 11 AM, which would allow three hours of sleep, 2 full REMS, if I was lucky.  I would get more sleep on the plane and in the cab, but I knew tomorrow would be a rough day.  With some difficulty, I finally found a place for lunch, the French Canadian version of a roadside diner.  I ordered their signature sandwich (basically a Philly Cheesesteak) and poutine, along with coffee.  It took way too long to come out.  The whole process took almost half an hour, but I was starving, and it was all quite good.

I lit up an LFD, which smoked terribly, followed by an Aging Room.  After the Aging Room, I stopped for gas and some snacks.  I spent way too long picking out the snacks, but I was still looking good for the 8 PM hard arrival at the hotel.  I lit up a Camacho for my last cigar of the drive, switching from Avril to Disney music after the cigar.  I opened the windows at that point to air out the car.  While I was driving, it was raining at numerous points, and I saw a rainbow at one point.  At another point, I saw a beautiful vista of the Saint Lawrence River.  Soon enough, driving on cruise control most of the way, I was entering the city of Quebec.  I took a wrong turn, which actually didn’t add any time and brought me to a gas station, where I gassed up for the last time and cleaned out the car.

I then went to the hotel.  It was all so familiar.  Even though I was here four years, I remembered it all.  In fact, all of Old Quebec looked so familiar, even though it had been two years since I was last here.  It was a bit of a process to find out from the innkeeper where to park the car (just down the block was the eventual answer).  I checked in and went up to my room.  I had thought I had reserved the same room that I had gotten last time, but apparently not.  This room was about half the size and much shittier.  It also faced the opposite direction.  This would not do.  I asked if he had any other rooms available.  He did not.  Oh, well.  I would only be spending about four hours in the room total, anyway.  I situated myself and headed outside.

I knew exactly where I would be getting dinner.  There is a restaurant with a patio in view of the Plaque, and I had always wanted to go there.  As I walked to the restaurant, I knew that I was home.  This was where I was meant to be, and I was so happy that I had come full circle like this.  I stopped for a flag pin on the way, the one I have not being in good condition.  Something that is interesting about Quebec is that they consider themselves a nation, not a province.  The legislative assembly building is called the National Parliament of Quebec.

I soon came to the familiar plaza and saw that no one was sitting outside.  I went in to the restaurant and asked if I could sit outside.  Eventually they agreed.  I ordered a glass of local red wine, along with their signature beef bourguignon.  Once they brought out the wine, I lit up a Vegas Robaina Canada Exclusivo.  I was so home.  This is the fifth time I have been in Quebec.  Only New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and Washington have it beat.  I have been to a bunch of cities three times, including Seattle, Portland, Los Angeles, and Toronto.  November will bring me to Atlanta and London for my fourth visits to each.

Quebec is my favorite city in North America, other than New York, and the magic was still there, made even more magical by eating dinner in view of the Plaque.  They brought the beef, and I started to eat and smoke.  It was blissful.  A few minutes later, I was told that I could not smoke on the patio, even though I was the only one out there.  I put the cigar down, but he told me that the cigar itself could not even be on the patio.  There was a planter connected to the patio.  I put the cigar in the planter.  That was acceptable.  The meal was delicious, and I paid my check and retrieved my cigar.

I then went to pay homage to the Plaque.  It is, without a doubt, the best World Heritage Site in the world.  There is a whole garden dedicated to the Plaque with flowers in the shape of the WHS logo and UNESCO flags surrounding it.  There is a 3D rendition of the logo behind the Plaque.  I knelt in front of the garden and paid my respect.  I then had a conversation with the Plaque, which I was now visiting for the fifth time (well, more if I can count multiple visits during each trip).

Is it possible to love an inanimate object?  If it is, I love this Plaque.  I was on the verge of tears as I said goodbye to the Plaque, knowing that I would not be seeing it for quite some time.  I kissed the WHS logo on the Plaque, thanking it for all the good memories.  I listed the five remaining WHS I needed to visit in Canada, and I promised the Plaque that I would eventually return.  I said goodbye and walked away.  It was very bittersweet.  This was the WHS Plaque I had now seen more than any other WHS Plaque, even the one at Independence Hall.

I stopped for souvenirs, as I always do, also stopping for a maple latte, which was quite good.  I got to the hotel and ditched the cigar outside.  I went up to the room and realized that it would be stupid to write my entry from the room.  There was a nice bench outside the hotel, and it had the view I wanted.  I headed back down with my computer bag and sat on the bench, where I lit up my favorite Ardor, glad to add “Quebec, Quebec” to the datelines under which I had smoked it, (followed by a Romeo y Julieta) and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get some sleep before I have to go to the airport.  I have had a lot of great memories in Eastern Canada, and, as I keep saying, it is quite bittersweet that my time in this region is now at an end.

Full Circle - Day 1 - The Long and Winding Road

9/24/16, “The Long and Winding Road”

Edmundston, New Brunswick

That is probably one of the least glamorous datelines I have ever posted (nor is this vista any more glamorous), but the journey that brought me from Toronto, Ontario through Montreal, Quebec and here to Edmundston, New Brunswick is certainly one worth recording.  There is a certain magic to long drives alone on the open road, and it allows a way to clear your mind to think in a way nothing else does.  While I am certainly a big fan of road trips with friends and the adventures and jokes such trips often entail, driving alone for long distances provides its own unique experience.  With nothing to distract you and most of your brainpower being devoted to the actions of driving itself, it frees up a certain portion of your brain for reflection and musing and all sorts of other types of thinking.

The only other similar experience I can relate is those few minutes before you fall asleep, but that is such a small timeframe compared to the eleven hours I spent behind the wheel of the car today, driving over 1000 km across three provinces.  During that drive, on the long and winding road, and I had plenty of time to think, and think I did.  Alone with nothing but my own thoughts and bunch of cigars, I thought a lot.  Most of my thoughts during the drive were unpublishable, well, actually, I suppose they all were, except for the thoughts that pertained to writing this entry, which is self-referential, so I do not even need to record them, and the thoughts about future trips, which will be revealed in due time.  Instead, I will regale my reader with the adventures that brought me from Toronto to Edmundston.

After I closed, I soon went to sleep and slept in a bit, waking up slightly after 9 AM, which was an hour behind schedule.  I changed into my cargo pants, wearing casual longs for once, and my Yukon t-shirt.  I also packed in my pockets everything I would need for my walk to the Legislative Assembly building and back, not wanting to have to come back up to my room on the 35^th Floor before heading out.

I went down to the breakfast buffet, and I began to take a plate of food, only to be informed by the hostess that I needed to be “seated” first.  Huh?  She needed to show me to my seat before I was allowed to take food.  I was starving and wanted to spare myself the extra trip.  Couldn’t I just grab the plate and take it with me to my seat?  No, that was not allowed.  She walked me to my seat and pointed it out to me.  Without even sitting down, I walked back to the buffet and helped myself to meager portions of bacon, eggs, sausage, potatoes, and some odd pastry next to the pancakes.  I had asked for a coffee, which was arriving just as I sat down.  I typically don’t eat breakfast, though I have been eating chocolate cake for breakfast the past two days, as I read an article that having chocolate for breakfast actually helps your focus and your diet.  It has kept me full for a good four hours, but I’m not sure about the focus part.  This meager plate was considerably more than my typical breakfast, though.  I scarfed it down and headed out.

The walk to the Legislative Assembly building was about 35 minutes, so I lit up a Bolivar Brasil Exclusivo for the walk.  I could see the building off in the distance as I was approaching it.  I soon arrived, ditching my cigar before my ceremonial picture.  “Ontario Complete,” I announced, commenting on how Official it was before adding, “And now let’s find those flag pins” (or something to that effect).  I posted to social media, noting that it was now “12 down, 1 to go” with the provincial and territorial legislative assembly buildings.  Only the one in Newfoundland and Labrador (one building for the doubly named province) remained.

I went in search of my flag pin.  There was a shop not far away called “Canada Gifts,” which seemed a good place to start.  When I got there, I knew I had hit the jackpot.  If there was a shop in Toronto that would have flag pins, it would be this one.  They had them.  I bought three, along with some other random souvenirs.  I continued back to the hotel and stopped at a Tim Horton’s for a coffee.  I kept walking down the street and saw someone taking a picture of the building.

I followed the line of sight of his camera and saw a cigar store Indian.  Oh, that’s cool.  Wait.  If there is a cigar store Indian, that meant there was a cigar store.  I checked.  Yes, it was a cigar store.  I went inside and realized that, again, I had hit the jackpot.  While Canadian tobacco tax is brutal, I would be able to make up for missing out in Italy.  I got a nice selection of ciars, including traditional birthday cigars, Montecristo Number 4, a tradition dating back four years now, and some Vegas Robaina Canada Exclusivos.  As I was checking out, I complained about the Canadian tobacco tax, and he sympathized with me.  He also threw in two very expensive cigars as a gift, for which I was quite grateful.

My business in Ontario was done, and I headed back to the hotel.  It was noon by the time I left my room, and I was now two hours behind schedule.  I checked out of the hotel and went to my car.  I hit bad traffic leaving the city, understanding now why the hotel availability was so sparse last night.  In addition to the Blue Jays game, the World Series of Hockey is wrapping up in Toronto now.  People from all over the world would be here to see that.  Eventually I was on the highway, and I lit up my Davidoff Yamasa Toro and put on Taylor Swift’s album Red, as I always do for the first long drive of any trip.

After the cigar, I stopped at a rest stop for lunch.  They call the rest stops there “On Route”, which is a play on words involving the abbreviation for Ontario.  It is right off the side of the highway, very similar to what I found in Germany.  I went again to Tim Horton’s getting their steak sandwich with wedges and a coffee, along with a pumpkin spice donut for later.  I scarfed down my meal and headed back to the car.  Fed up with Taylor’s recent personal drama, I decided I would listen to my old favorite singer instead: Avril Lavigne.  I queued up her debut album Let Go, lit up a San Cristobal, and got back on the road, remembering that she was Canadian as I drove back onto the highway.  I then remembered that she grew up in a small town in Ontario.  I tried to remember what it was called.  The name Napanee quickly came to me.  That had to be around here somewhere.

I continued to drive with my cigar and music, and then I saw the sign that made my heart leap.  Napanee, 12 km.  Even though I was now about three hours behind schedule and still had about nine hours to go to get to Edmundston, I said to myself, “I can’t not stop.”  This was my idol growing up.  Sk8er Boi was a song that changed my life.  I still know all the words to it.  After all this time?  Always.  I tried to figure out the best way to proceed, and then I saw a field of tall grass with a big decorative sign that said Napanee.  That would be perfect.  I pulled over and got out of the car.  Her song My World was the one that mentions Napanee.  To make it even better, she used to make her money cutting grass.  I walked through the field to get to a photo spot and played My World from my phone.  I took pictures and video for social media.  It was perfect.  I was on the verge of tears when I got back to my car.  How perfect was this?  It’s so funny how unexpected highlights of a trip can happen like that.

After I finished the cigar, I stopped at another “On Route” for gas this time.  I got a serious sense of déjà vu as I walked through the service station.  It was laid out identically to the other one.  It even had the same stores.  I finished my donut from earlier, lit up a Partagas, played her 2013 eponymous album, and got back on the road.  It would be a straight shot from there to my favorite hot dog place in Montreal: Decarie.  I had no business in Montreal other than those hot dogs and poutine.  It was worth the slight detour.  After the Partagas, I lit up a Toscano, which I ditched as I was pulling on to Decarie Boulevard.

There was some traffic once I got into town, but I found a parking spot right in front of the familiar hot dog shop, which I was now offering my custom for the third time in my travels, arriving just at sunset, right before 7 PM.  One problem.  I was not able to parallel park with the SUV I had been given.  Fortunately, the car in front of me pulled out, and I was able to park there.  I was delighted to see that the shop now had outdoor seating.  I got two all-dressed hot dogs and some poutine, which I paired with a Vegas Robaina Canada Exclusivo.  It would be a feast for a king as far I was concerned.  Every bit of it was as delicious as I remembered, and I was glad for the outdoor seating to have my cigar.

I got back on the road and was on my way to the hotel.  I was looking at an arrival at the hotel between midnight and 1 AM.  This was a very familiar drive, Aut-20 N from Montreal to Quebec, at night, almost entirely on cruise control.  This was the third time I had driven it, each time after a stop at Decarie.  I would be turning off towards New Brunswick before I reached Quebec, this time, though.  Listening to her album Under My Skin now, my next cigar was a Blind’s Man Bluff, which smoked way too quickly, followed by an Aroma de Cuba.  I stopped for gas before I reached the turn-off from Quebec.  I also got some poutine-flavored chips, a beer for later, chocolate for later, a seltzer, and a coffee.  It was all much-needed.  It was freezing out now, so I retrieved my PEI sweatshirt, which I immediately donned.

I put Let Go back on, lit up a Cusano, and got back on the road.  I was looking at a hard arrival at the hotel by 1 AM, which would be good given all of my stops.  I then had an “Oh, shit” moment.  I remembered that New Brunswick is on Atlantic Time, not Eastern Time, which meant it’s an hour ahead.  My hard arrival at the hotel would be 2 AM, not 1 AM.  Technically, it didn’t even matter, since I will gain the hour back as soon as I cross back into Quebec, but it was annoying, thinking I would not be asleep until well after 3 AM.  I arrived at the hotel without incident, following the Cusano up with a Perdomo.

I checked in and headed to my room.  I was in my nightclothes by 2 AM local time, though my watch and all of my electronic time pieces still registered a few minutes before 1 AM.  I got situated with my Molson beer and a Rinaldo pipe, having a smoking room this time, and sat down in a chair by the outside door, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get to sleep.  Tomorrow I finally attack my white whale: Miguasha National Park.

Full Circle - Day 0 - A Citizen of the World

“Full Circle”

9/23/16, “A Citizen of the World”

Aboard AC 725, En route LGA-YYZ

What does it mean to be a citizen of the world?  As UN week in the city I have just left draws to a close, I believe this is an appropriate question to ask.  Is it someone who travels to different cities around the world?  Someone who has lived in different countries?  Or does it require something even further?  Hegel envisioned an ideal type of civil society where this idea, the cosmopolitan citizen, would take a more literal meaning.  While Hegel saw that as an end goal of human civilization, perhaps we should ask if that is even a desirable outcome.

Are national identities an outdated concept, and must we begin to except that we are all members of the same planet?  Or can we maintain a sense of national identity and assert, as Donald Trump does, "America First!"  Must we put American interests aside in the name of this new global identity, as those on the left might argue, or is it perfectly acceptable to claim our national identity and put our own interests first?  It is with that in mind that I make my way to Toronto.

I believe that my readers know how I will answer these questions.  I will, of course, answer with a resounding “America First!” and I will hope the citizens of Toronto will respond, “Canada First!”  The line gets fuzzier when we move a little further east into Canada, as I will be doing this trip, and have to contend with subnational identities.  I believe someone living in Quebec would respond to his western neighbor’s claim of “Canada First!” with a cry of “Quebec First!” in a way you would never hear “Ontario First!” in Toronto.

It is interesting to understand national and subnational politics, but I believe both the citizens of Toronto and Quebec would understand the idea of putting local interests ahead of global interests.  In spite of the idea of a United Nations that can unite the interests of all the nations of the world, I believe that to be an ignoble goal, as it has a natural tendency to subvert national identity.  While I am sure I will find some disagreement among my readers, especially those who might disagree with the extreme to which Mr. Trump would take the idea of his “America First” doctrine, I maintain with absolute conviction that the citizens of America are just that, citizens of America, and not citizens of the world, and they have an absolute right to proclaim, “America First!”, forever and always.

As for other interpretations of the phrase, I perhaps I am a citizen of the world in that sense, visiting a new country almost every month as part of this five-year mission, but I would never identify myself as anything other than an American, a New Yorker, and a descendant of the nation of Israel.

I had an entirely different opening planned for this entry, but, sometimes inspiration strikes at the most opportune moment.  As I was posting my departure photo to social media, I began to tag today as #AStressfulDeparture, which would have led to me opening with a cold opening about all the departure stress that had occurred in the four hours prior to my arriving at the gate.  However, I deleted that phrase, since I had caught a major break upon arriving at the airport, and I changed it to #ACitizenOfTheWorld, which led to this opening.  That is not to say the stress was not real.  In fact, it was perhaps the most stressful departure build-up to the airport arrival I have experienced in quite some time.  I have had more stressful airport experiences, but, this time, once I cleared airport security, everything went fine.  Let us begin at the beginning, though.

I finished packing late last night, watching Season 3 of “The Blacklist” in an attempt to get caught up, as Season 4 had just started.  The Patriots game had been a blowout, so I had lost all interest in that.  I woke up and got ready, leaving my luggage at my apartment, figuring I would get it later.  I lit up a Camacho and dropped it off at the cigar shop on my way to work.  I arranged to have a car pick me up outside the cigar shop at 5:15 PM.  That would get me to the airport by 6 PM, in time to write my entry at LGA before my 8:30 PM flight.

A coworker and I headed out to lunch together, and we swung by the cigar shop to pick up my cigar, so I introduced him to everyone.  We then walked to Subway to pick up sandwiches.  I relit my cigar and biked up to Hunter, leaving the cigar outside and bringing my sandwich to class.  We had a great debate on the philosophy of the mind, my personal philosophy being that the mind is just an illusion created from the firing of neurons in the brain and that the brain functions much the same way as an advanced computer program.  I had three other students on my side (not counting those who were in silent agreement) by the end of the class, in no small part by using an appropriate example of a self-driving car, which would “avoid” pedestrians much the same way a human-driven car would “avoid” pedestrians.

After class, I retrieved my cigar, lit it up, biked to my apartment, ditched the cigar outside, retrieved my luggage, broke a Toscano in half, and walked to the office.  My mother had dropped off my new driver’s license at my boss’s house, who was going to bring it in, my old license having expired.  I asked him if he had it.  He did not.  I will spare the next hour and a half of drama that ensued, but, to summarize, his nanny had taken the delivery from my mother and had forgotten about it when he asked her in the morning, only to remember right as I was leaving.  We explored all possible options, but by that point, it was too late to get the new license to me before I had to clear airport security, even though my boss had expressed willingness to drive it to the airport.  The timing would not work.  I had a temporary license, along with my expired license, and the Hertz website said that that would be acceptable.

Okay, then what?  At 5 PM, I headed to the cigar shop with the other half of my Toscanao.  At this point, I realized that I had left my laptop charger at home.  Now, more drama.  I would need to retrieve the charger from my apartment before going to the airport.  The car could take me there, but it would add time.  To make matters worse, I got a call that they were running behind schedule and that the pickup would not be until 5:25 PM.  I then got another call that they were still running late and that it would be after 5:30 PM, and they could not guarantee when.  That complicated things.  I arranged for an Uber to pick me up at my apartment in 15 minutes, but it would be more expensive.  I hope to be able to get a compensatory credit from the car service due to their screw up, though.

I walked back to my apartment, taking my suitcase all the way back down Park Avenue with the other half of the Toscano I had previously smoked as I wheeled the suitcase up Park Avenue.  The Uber was waiting for me when I arrived.  I put my luggage in the car and went upstairs to get my charger.  We were at the airport at 6:20 PM, and I was shocked to see the renovations there for the first time now.  I cleared security and headed to my gate.

We are now making our decent, so I will wrap up.  I picked up some food at Auntie Anne’s and headed to the Air Canada counter, where I saw that there was an earlier flight, a 7:25 PM flight, which they put me on.  I scarfed down my food as boarding began and then got on the plane.  As soon as we took off, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as we are about to land.

Toronto, Ontario

Oh, Canada!  I left my apartment less than six hours ago.  This has to be some kind of a record.  I can’t remember any trip where I wrote my hotel entry for Day 0 within six hours of leaving my apartment or office.  Even road trips, I don’t think I’ve ever been at the hotel in such a short time.  I was in my nightclothes within five hours of leaving my apartment.  Definitely has to be a record.  How did this all happen?  Well, in my previous entry, which I closed within three hours of leaving my apartment, I explained how I was on an airplane within two hours of leaving the apartment, and the flight was only an hour.  So, what then happened in the two hours between landing at Pearson and arriving at my hotel and changing into my nightclothes?  How did that process only take two hours?

It is now 11:30 PM as of writing this entry, and I expected to just be walking up to the Hertz counter now to get my car and not be at my hotel and in my nightclothes for another hour after that and probably not writing this entry until at least 1 AM.  The two hours that I saved may seem insignificant, but they make all the difference in the world.  It is the difference between getting to sleep past 2 AM versus around midnight, which, when I have to wake up at 8 AM, is the difference between getting eight hours of sleep and six hours.  When you have been running all week on less than six hours of sleep a night, those extra two hours of sleep is a huge deal, especially when tomorrow will entail a brutal, 10-hour drive across Eastern Canada.

We landed soon after I closed, and I steeled myself for the all-too-familiar border control process.  This was an odd trip, and I knew it would raise a lot of questions during my interview with border control.  I didn’t think they would deny me entry, but the way this trip was designed was sure to raise additional suspicions.  I had nothing illegal on me and nothing to hide, so it was just an issue of being hassled in the process.

When I got to border control, I saw that they had transitioned to electronic kiosks, very similar to the Global Entry kiosks I use at home.  I had to scan my passport and declaration form.  They gave me a printed receipt in exchange, which I would have to show to the border control officer, who was checking them at the exit.

I should note here that I always use the terms customs and border control extremely precisely, though they are often colloquially used interchangeably.  Border control technically can be on exit or entrance, but I am only discussing entrance.  It consists of two parts, an immigration checkpoint and the customs checkpoint.  The immigration checkpoint is to ascertain what you are doing here, while the customs checkpoint is to ascertain what you are bringing.  In other words, immigration is to check people, customs is to check goods.  Together, they form border control, which is called the CBSA in Canada and the US CPB back home.  The declaration contained information that pertained both to immigration and customs.

The officer here was serving in an immigration capacity, asking questions about the purpose of our stay.  I told him I was here for Tourism.  Where was I staying?  In Toronto.  What hotel?  The Delta.  Okay, go ahead.  I proceeded to the customs checkpoint, and I took my receipt without further question.  That was it.

It has been almost four years since I set foot in Ontario, and that was before I started this Travelogue.  Other than airport entries, this is the first Ontario dateline I have ever written.  It is the first time I have had a “Toronto, Ontario” dateline, despite this being my third visit to this city.  I made my way to Hertz, and now I had another hurdle to overcome.  Would she accept my temporary driver’s license?

I showed her first my old license, and she said it was expired.  I then handed her the temporary one.  She was extremely confused, and she spent a lot of time looking it over, but, eventually, she handed them both back to me and told me where to find my car.  Well, that was good.  It was now four hours since I left my apartment, and I was in front of my rental car.  I expected to still be in the air at that point.  I put in the GPS for my hotel in Toronto and got on the road.

Almost immediately, I saw a call from my friend Raymond.  That was odd.  He almost never calls me on the phone.  I picked up.  He had good news.  He got a new job, a much better paying one.  He was thrilled about it.  We talked a little about that, joking that we were both in the construction industry now, and we said we’d see each other Monday for the debate.  I almost want to keep this Travelogue open until Monday night so that I can write about the debate, rather than closing it Monday morning as is my tradition.  I was soon at my hotel, and I noted that the streets were awfully crowded.  I realized that a Blue Jays games must have just let out.  My hotel was right across from the CN Tower, and it was a great location.  I parked in the lot under the building and checked in.

She put me on the 35^th Floor with a phenomenal view of the cityscape.  I changed into my nightclothes, it now being less than five hours since I left my apartment.  I was starving at this point.  I ordered a flatbread pizza from room service and relaxed for a bit until it arrived, neutralizing the smoke detector during that time period as well.

The pizza came as I was about to rub out my pipe tobacco.  It was spicy, delicious, and filling.  After the pizza, I grabbed my pipe, sat down in view of the cityscape, lit up my Ardor, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get to sleep for my big day tomorrow.  As of writing this sentence, it is now exactly one minute before midnight.  I did not even expect to be at my hotel before midnight.

A Roman Holiday - Day 5 - "Con Te Partiro"

9/14/16, “Con Te Partiro”

Rome Fiumicino Airport, Italy (FCO)

The time has come to say goodbye to Rome.  I would typically entitle this entry “The Return Journey,” but I believe this title is more fitting.  It is time to say goodbye, not just to Rome and Italy, but, in fact, to continental Europe as well.  Over the past four years, I have ventured to the European continent eight times now, visiting a new Olympic Stadium each time.  Well, I have seen them all, the ones in continental Europe, at least.  All that remain to visit are the London 2012 Stadium and the two in Australia.

I know that I will return to this continental mainland again, to see more of Spain, to spend more time in Fennoscandia, to see the sites in Wallonia, to go to Oktoberfest in Munich.  All of those trips will come, but I have no idea when.  I also know that a longer trip to Italy will come, but I know not when either.  For everything that I have planned for the past four years and the next year, nothing is planned after my return from Hawaii in a year.  I have a list of 21 trips that I want to take in my 30s, but they are completely unplanned beyond an entry in my spreadsheet describing how long I think the trip would be.

That is the great thing about travel, goodbye never has to be forever.  The sites that have stood for thousands of years will be there in another decade or two.  The border agents will always be ready to stamp my passport again.  As I reflect on my time in Italy, it gives me great comfort knowing that I will, eventually, return to the Eternal City.  It is called that for a reason.

I will reflect more broadly either from inside the terminal or en route, and, as is my tradition, I will treat the return journey in its entirety once I get home, but, for now, I will solely reflect on this trip.  First, let’s start with the obvious, the Eternal City itself.  I love that name so much.  It is so fitting.  When I went to Israel, my favorite city was Akko, which was dripping with history.  You could walk along the historic walls, and the city was very much intact.  My favorite places in Greece had a similar feel.  Istanbul, the same.

Now, reader, Rome has it too, but it has it in spades.  Every era of history for the past over 2000 years is intact in the Eternal City.  One block you might pass through an ancient alley, only to walk out to a cathedral from the time of the Renaissance, and the next block could be a modern building from the early 1900s.  It all blends together so effortlessly.

In Tuscany, you see the heart of the Renaissance in Florence and the medieval architecture in Pisa, but there are also ancient Roman ruins to be found.  The city of Florence looks much the same today as it did during the time of Michelangelo and the Medicis.  Those are names that are so much larger than life, like Fibonacci and Galileo, that I simply cannot picture them walking the streets of Florence and Pisa, but I know they did it, the very same streets that I walked.  I know that I walked the same streets in Rome that Caligula and Julius Caesar and all the other famous Romans walked.

I saw the Colosseum and walked the Forum.  Only two other places in the world have ever given me such a feeling of history: the old city of Jerusalem and ancient parts of Athens.  Nothing else comes close.  As I have mentioned, I am prepared to say that, for a tourist, Rome is the greatest city in the world.  Rome has everything that Jerusalem and Athens has, combined with the history of global reach and modern buildings of London and New York.

To anyone who has never left North America and has a chance to take a short trip to Europe, I would be forced to recommend Rome above all, and I would say it exactly the same that Audrey Hepburn’s princess said it in “A Roman Holiday.”  When I get home, there are three movies I will want to watch to remember my time here: A Roman Holiday, of course, Caligula, and Gladiator.  Other than sites that I saw, I simply enjoyed this trip on a level I rarely enjoy trips.  I might even go so far as to say that the last solo trip that I so enjoyed was my birthday trip last year to Africa.

I ate pizza and pasta in their homeland.  I drank so much wine and so much gelato.  I did not have a single bad meal the entire trip, not to mention all the Toscano cigars.  Just walking around the city every night was so enjoyable.  It had become my home for half a week.  There were things I missed, including the Mouth of Truth made famous from “A Roman Holiday,” but that has been there thousands of years, and it will be here when I return.  I will not love that movie any less when I return.  I saw Rome and got my taste of Tuscany, but so much remains.

It is a country that has 51 World Heritage Sites, more than any in the world.  51.  I don’t think any other country has more than 40.  Of the 51, I saw 6.  I will definitely be back for the other 45.  I just don’t know when.  I have a suitcase of souvenirs, and I believe that I will need to make a separate display area just for Italy, possibly with or adjoining my Hellenic display from Greece and Turkey, or separate.  I have gotten my replica of the Colosseum, which I can now proudly display on my desk, along with the other six replicas of the New7 Wonders of the World.  I can add my Italian flag pin to my board with the others.  My country count is up to 66.

There are so many other facts I could recall, but the facts do not do justice to the magnitude of this trip.  Rome had been the biggest hole in my list for quite some time, and I am glad that I have finally done it.  I have not even left yet, and I am already ready to come back.  My Euros are gone, and I will not be spending Euros again for quite some time, but that is okay.  I believe that my travels to continental Europe have done justice to do it.  As my brother would say, I did it up right.  On that note, I will close for now so that I can begin the check-in process.

Now, to continue.  I am holed up inside one of those smoking cages that is common to European airports.  There are no seats per se, but I am comfortably seated on the floor in the corner, my back resting up against the wall.  The suit will definitely need to go to the cleaners when I get back.  I will use this time to reflect on this summer of travel.  As I wrote from Newark almost four months ago, I loved that this summer would begin with Athens and end with Rome.

There is such a nice symmetry to that.  In between, the big trip, of course, was the GOAT trip, Rio for the Games of the XXXI Olympiad.  There were also smaller trips I took in between, almost all of them, at least partially, with friends.  I loved and lost and searched for love again.  I lost friends, while other friendships faded away, but I also made new friends, including a chance encounter outside a bathroom in Rio that turned into a nice friendship that continues to develop, and cemented other friendships.  It is actually funny to think of how I met all the friends to which I am referring.

Someone Liked a few posts on my Instagram page, and, a year later, he had become one of my best friends.  Another friend started hanging out with me after the cigar shop closed, and he is now my best friend.  He introduced me to his friend from college, and the three of us became a squad.  Then, of course, there was the chance encounter outside the Tony’s 4 years ago, which led to an amazing friendship that continues to this very day.  Another friend I met because he saw me working with his arch nemesis in autographing, and we became friends instead.  All of the friends that I mentioned have accompanied me on one of the trips this summer.

The first trip after Greece was when my friend Roberto, the friend from Instagram, came to visit me in New York.  He stayed with me for a week, and we went to Philadelphia together to see Independence Hall and take care of another NPS in Pennsylvania.  My friend Connor, the one who was introduced to me, joined us for the first day of that trip as well.  I then proceeded to show Roberto the way I do New York on a weekly basis as Roberto stayed with me for the week.

At the end of the week, I went to visit the friend I met at the Tony’s.  I loved that I departed for that trip four years to the day after we met.  Our plan was to see the new Harry Potter play, which was in two parts, Saturday and Tuesday nights.  Her flight was cancelled, and she missed her flight, which left me to see the first night with just her parents, with whom I very much enjoyed spending the evening.  I had my own adversity, and the trip was, pretty much, a disaster.  While I enjoyed my time in Wales, the disasters of the trip was the impetus for the follow-up trip I will be taking in November, the one I am entitling, “Because It’s There: The Experience”.  I enjoyed being reunited with my friend after almost two years, but we had too short of a time together, which also led to us planning her upcoming visit to New York so that we can see the Fantastic Beasts premiere together.

The next weekend, well, most of what occurred that weekend is unpublishable, but that Sunday was Father’s Day, so I made it up to Scarsdale to celebrate that with my father.  The weekend after that was my annual trip to Maine, and Connor came with me on that trip as well.  That was a fun trip.

Then Fourth of July weekend, which brought me to the Canadian Maritime, but my flight was cancelled, and it screwed up the trip, prompting the trip I will take next weekend to catch one of the sites I missed.  I managed to rearrange that weekend, though, and very much enjoyed my time in Nova Scotia and PEI.

When I got back, the next weekend was mostly unpublishable again, included Connor’s going away party, and it led to the lost love I mentioned earlier.  I went up to Scarsdale again just Sunday night and watched the conclusion of the Gymnastics trials.  The weekend after that was the last weekend I would have to myself for quite some time.

The following weekend, I went to Pittsburgh and West Virginia with my friend Stu for our annual random amusement park and NPS trip.  We had fun like we always do, despite being ready to kill each other at the end of the trip, like we always are.

The weekend after that, my brother and sister-in-law came into town to surprise my father for his big birthday.  The five of us had a great time together.  It was good to have the whole family reunited again.  If memory serves me right, the last time it was just the five of us hanging out in such a relaxed fashion was in Kentucky, four years ago, when I set out to see the world.  I cannot count the wedding venue trip or the wedding trip, since the former was by no mean relaxed, and the latter was not just the five of us.

Then came Rio, for the Games of the XXXI Olympiad, with my friend Raymond, the one who used to follow me home from the cigar shop after closing.  It was definitely the GOAT trip, the greatest of all time.  I loved the whole trip, and I do not need to go into more detail about how amazing it was to be there.  It was during that trip that I met the girl from Detroit who is starting to become a very dear friend now.  That covered two weekends, and I spent the last weekend of the Games watching in Scarsdale.  I needed the weekend after that to recover.

The next weekend, Labor Day weekend, took me to Mexico to meet my friend Roberto.  Our destination was Oaxaca, and we had a great time together, despite the adversity.  We will be going to the Borderlands together next month.  Then came this trip, “A Roman Holiday”, and I have certainly spent enough time discussing this trip.

In theory, this summer should have, by far, been the best summer of travel yet, but due to all the adversity, it fell flat.  It was still a great summer of travel, but the adversity that happened with my trips to London and the Maritimes precluded it from beating some other summers.  It is hard to beat a summer that began in Athens and ended in Rome with a trip to the Olympics in between, but I’ve certainly had some truly great summers.  Maybe it was the best summer of travel so far, but it didn’t blow away the other summers like I expected it to.

Next summer will be even better, as I close out my mission, with trips to Canada, Iceland/Greenland, and the South Pacific trip that will close it all out.  It will not be as jam-packed as my other trips, but the four trips that I will take that summer will all be epic, the last one most of all.  What will the summers of 2018 and beyond entail?  I know not, but I know that I will have many more great summers of travel ahead, and I look forward to them very much. 

One trip that I know I will do one summer, and one that I already have a few people who want to join me for it, is a week across Russia on the Tran-Siberian Railroad, which promises to be a very fun trip.  I will also do an extended trip to Fennoscandia one summer.  Mongolia and Spain, too, will be summer destinations.  There are definitely a lot of great trips to be coming up in my future, both in the next year and beyond, and I hope that they can match up to all the great trips I have taken thus far.  On that note, I will close so that I can try to get something to eat before we board.

Aboard AZ 602, En route FCO-JFK

Now, as promised, there is only thing left on which to reflect, the past 29 years of my life.  For all the ups and downs over the past year, almost nothing has changed since I turned 28.  A lot has happened over the past 12 months, and, other than the shifting friendships, my life is almost exactly in the same place as it was 12 months ago.  I am okay with that, and I am okay with that being the case in 12 months, as well.  I was not always okay with that.  Each birthday I have celebrated during this mission has provided a unique perspective on where I was and where I was going.  This Roman Holiday should be no exception.

All I see is the 12 months ahead of me, and I see it great detail.  I see many of the same misadventures of the past 12 months repeating themselves in the next 12 months, and, who knows, I could meet someone and my life could forever change, or I could just have more of the same relationship drama that I have had at various points during this mission.  Or maybe I’ve already met Miss Right and just haven’t realized it yet.  Life is so unpredictable, and it takes so many twists and turns that the idea of having a life plan is almost laughable.

These Travel Goals, though, I have, for the most part, followed the original list I made three years, have required constant readjustments.  However, after those 12 months, I see nothing.  I have no idea what October of 2017 will entail, or what my life will be like beyond, and I am okay with that, surprisingly.  I have spent the past four years working on these travel goals, and I will diligently spend one more year on it, but then what?  I do not know.  Again, I am okay with that.

I will soon be making my way back to the office, and I will get back to my normal life, to reaffirming my ever-shifting friendships (both new and old) and seeing where other relationships can lead.  I will start more aggressively planning my 2017 trips, and I will get back to the normal routine of school work and regular work.  I will be taking a day off to go to Texas with my mother next month, but, other than that, I will not having any vacation days until the Thanksgiving trip, which I will probably finish fully booking upon my return.

It has been a great trip and, despite the disappointments and setbacks, I very much look forward to eventually returning here.  I will treat the return journey in its entirety upon clearing border control at Kennedy.  On that note, I will close, as we are about to start making our descent.

En route, NYC Airporter 617

And now, at long lost, in its entirety, The Return Journey.  After I closed last night, I packed and was soon asleep, hopng to get 2 full REM cycles.  That hope was not to be.  I was woken up various times throughout the night, including by my brother who tried to engage me in a video chat at 4 AM my time, the notification waking me up, in addition to other notifications waking me as well.  Then, at 4:40 AM, I got a call from the front desk that my car was there.  Yeah, the car service never changed the reservation.  I explained it would be at 5:40 AM, and he told the driver.  I woke up around 5:30 AM, quickly got ready, and headed down.  The driver looked like she might have been the mother of my driver from yesterday.  I don’t just mean that they were of the right age, I mean that they had very similar features.

I enjoyed seeing the familiar sights for the last time, and I rested my eyes as soon as we left the walls of the City of Rome.  It was about 6:15 AM when I got to the airport, and the check-in counter was not opened yet.  I got a cappuccino to go and went outside where I lit up a Toscano and wrote the first entry.  I then checked in, glad to have the same Seat 15D that I had on the way in, and headed to security.  I went in search of duty-free, first getting two bottles of wine, then trying to find my traditional birthday box of Montecristo No. 4, but I had no luck.  All they had was Toscanos and Davidoffs.  That was disappointing. I got some grappa, espresso, a pasta kit, pancetta, salami, and hard cheese.

I then went to the smoking cage, lit up a Bolivar Brasil Exclusivo, and wrote my second entry.  Then, in order to board the plane, we had to walk down many flights of stairs, no easy feat with all of my luggage, which now included three bottles of alcohol.  I was soon on the plane and fell asleep almost immediately after take-off.

I woke up for lunch and quickly fell back asleep.  Around 5 PM Rome time, 11 AM NYC time, I woke up.  I got a snack from the galley, along with wine and sparkling water.  I did some reading for school, wrote a letter about the drama with my landlord, and wrote the third entry above.  We were soon landing.  It was about 1:40 PM when we got off the plane, and I really wanted to make the 2 PM bus back to the city, otherwise I would get to the office after 4 PM, which would be an issue.

I did my usual Global Entry and went to Customs.  He asked what was in the duty-free bags, and I told him, listing my purchases, but he wanted to see them.  He pointed out the cheese, saying I needed to declare it.  Apparently, the salami and pancetta were a problem, too, and I lost the pancetta, but I got to keep the cheese, after passing my bags through an x-ray machine.  That was the only drama, though.

I headed to the bus stop, and the bus had not left yet.  The seats I liked in the back were covered by a liquid that I would eventually learn was water coming from the ACU.  I wiped them off and sat down, using the second backmost ones as a foot rest once we left the terminal.  I then proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, along with formally closing out this trip and the summer of travel.  Next stop: Toronto and Miguasha National Park to come “full circle” on all the travel I have done to Eastern Canada.