Friends and Babies

Slipping easily into my Toronto identity I am roaming from home to home, and as usual I wonder why I don’t live here close friends, family and my Abbey Rose. 

Friday night was a big, loud and raucous Israeli Shabbat Dinner.  I love the traditions: the lighting of candles ushering in the Sabbath, the blessings over the wine, and the blessing of thanks for Challah, which is a sweet bread baked specifically for Shabbat.  Chattering or bickering friends and kids, both grown and young, with frequent co-conversations going on at the same time. It is so wonderful, the sharing of memories, the feeling of closeness and the joy of just sitting back watching the interactions.  A nice surprise was seeing my friends Eldest, who now lives in Israel but was in town for a visit. 

And the food.  Wonderful Middle Eastern cooking, spicy and plentiful.  I do miss this weekly gathering. 

I am sure you need not be regaled with tales of Grandbaby craziness.  Suffice it to say that my Rosebud is just about the cutest, happiest baby on the planet and I am getting lots Grandma time in.

So far the weather has been mild enough to produce heavy evening fog, but the roads are ice and snow free.  An unseasonably warm pause in a usually severe winter climate,  I thought I would be hesitating to leave the house, but the pleasant weather has me visiting here and there.

Did my last minute shopping, picking up the various items I could not throw together before I departed Comox.  Tomorrow I will face the task of trying to get everything in my small duffle.  I am trying to keep it light because I am planning to move around, and weak old lady that I am I can’t lift a large duffle or backpack anymore. 

Tonight and tomorrow I will be visiting with friends, with a Wednesday morning departure to Bogota. 

Let the fun begin!

Day one. "That Passenger"

My first travel day started with an email message from Air Canada that my flight from Vancouver to Toronto had been cancelled.  Not the end of the world, they kindly put me on a later flight giving me more time to peruse the delights of the domestic terminal.

The boarding pass issued by friendly Comox Valley Air Canada staff gave me flight number and time, with the Gate Number a mystery.  I have flown in and out of YVR countless times and have almost exclusively been directed to one of two gates for boarding and departure.

  

Checked the monitor and saw that the flight was delayed, no gate designated.

I then passed a leisurely three hours wandering from store to store, checking my phone, people watching, texting... you know, killing time kind of stuff. 

An hour before my expected flight departure I checked  the flight directory monitor.  Flight boarding.  Gate 51?  No Gate 51 in sight.  I start reading signs and realize it is located nowhere near the area that I expected.   I managed to Bugs Bunny it for the very long walk to the very out of the way, mostly boarded plane.  Miraculously there was an overhead bin open that still had room for my carryon and jacket.

I then became “that” passenger. 

 

The one that arrives late, rushed and disorganized to the (hated) middle seat of a fully booked flight.   I wedge my way into the seat and then proceed to try and find phone, earbuds, water and my Kobo in my jam packed “personal item” (read large purse replacement bag).  Out came the sandwich I bought for the flight, the notebook I am using to organize my trip, a set of headphones, three cables (knowing one must surely be right)and the items previously listed. 

 

Search to make sure I had my passport and wallet.  Do I need anything else?  Back into the bag go most of my extracted items, in the wrong order of course so they don’t fit.  Out comes everything again while I repack.  Need to make sure my sandwich is on top...

The passengers on either side were doing their best to maintain a calm, patient and unbothered appearance.  I apologize.  I manage to cram my bag under the seat without taking one of them out with my elbow.  I search for my seatbelt.  Finally I settle and it seems that all is well...

Cue the hot flash.  Off comes the seatbelt. Up I get to open the overhead air cooling and remove my sweater.  I wiggle around to try put my sweater over my shoulders, knowing it will be needed shortly.  Back into my seat I wedge myself, around I rummage for my seatbelt, more apologies, and then a deep breath as I try and calm the nerves I have frazzled. 

 

Not counting the overhead bin opening on takeoff and the possibility that my bag was going to take out the poor passenger seated in its projected path, it was a smooth flight.

 

Toronto, what do you have in store for me this time?