Tag Archives: airports

Holy Bat Day Fogman!

img_2801

Yeah, that’s not quite right.

It’s how words get muddled up in my mind just before they exit my mouth.  Immediately after thinking this impossible thing I contemplated being a super hero called Dense Fog Woman.  Here she comes to fog your brain. Yeah, also not great.

Weird to have such dense pea soup fog days in our arid little part of the world.  Of course we all want to go out driving in it.  Our grandson, who flew here and then drove to Calgary with grandpa to attend a wrestling seminar type thing on the weekend (I know, foggy details) is making attempt number two this morning to fly home.  The plane last night was turned back, unable to land in the ice fog.  So of course there were irate passengers annoyed with the inconvenience but think how much more annoyed they would be if the plane crashed.  What’s a few trips to and from the airport in the grand scheme of things really.  So we had a very late night and a ridiculously early morning.

I got three times the goodbye hugs, so I’m good with it.

Friday was the day I took this photo, an extreme close up of two jars of homemade relish.  Made in my home, by me.  The one on the left is my first attempt, chopping everything with a chopper, and the other one was more labour intensive because I chopped everything by hand.  A batch makes about three jars each.  My food chopper has a fine line between big chunks and mush.  I personally never manage to get stuff to the mush point because frankly I’m just not that ambitious.  So jar number two is supposed to look more uniformly relishy.  It’s made up word day here.  And since there is no discernible difference in how they look, food chopper wins this one and all future endeavours.

My sister gave me a little jar of  low glycemic no sugar added sweet pickle relish, along with the recipe, to try. (you can find it here ) It is delicious. She does all this wonderful canning and preserving and freezing from her garden and I always think it looks like fun and not that hard.  Halfway through the process I’m likely to change my mind about both those things.  But I always learn something.

About six years ago (the amount of time it takes me to forget why I don’t can stuff) I made some hamburger relish which was lovely and red and very tasty, and some apple chutney which was just weird.  Unless apple chutney is your go-to condiment and you have it with at least six meals a week, don’t make a dozen jars of it.  I lost count of how many times we said, after a meal was finished, oh, we should have had some of that relish stuff with this. Okay, truthfully, I’m the only one who said that.   I discovered no one in my family really cares for red relish.  Or maybe just MY red relish.  Those jars took up space on my shelves for a very long time.  And then they all at once mysteriously disappeared because I got tired of looking at them.

Anyway this stuff is really good and gave me a mad craving for hotdogs, so I had to venture out into the Friday fog to buy some.  It is Monday morning and they are all gone, along with half a jar of my amazing relish.  I’m kind of sick of both of them actually, but let’s not talk about that.

The fog advisory for here has been lifted.  I think it might be safe to go back to bed.  But not before I mention I made some marmalade too this weekend using two big oranges, half a lemon and some fake sugar.  It’s supposed to be a paleo recipe using honey, although I can’t imagine cave people sitting around a fire canning jam.

Okay, now I can.  I need to sleep.

 

My Big Fat Greek Holiday (Crete)

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

This is my last big fat Greek holiday post.  Probably for this lifetime, because I can’t imagine going back, or even flying across the ocean again.  With three days left in our HOE-liday (at one of the little shops someone had painted on the parking area ‘Enjoy your stay, Happy Hoeliday) I bought a hat.  It’s a white visor with ‘Santorini/Greece’ written all over it in silver, with a brim about ten times bigger than an old-fashioned little girls bonnet.  And there’s a ribbon tie at the back.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  So if you know anyone who needs a good hoeliday hat, I could be persuaded to part with it.

We arrived at the Albatross Spa and Resort Hotel in Heraklion, Crete, after nine o’clock at night following our last long ferry trip and about a thirty minute bus ride.  The rooms here lacked Greek-ness.  They could have been anywhere, really.  There was a shortage of hot water and loud live entertainment in the courtyard until well after eleven at night.  See how you can tell it’s all winding down by how whiney I’ve become?  If we had arrived in Crete first I probably would have loved it more.

On Saturday my nieces opted for a relaxing pool day and a walk to the beach, and the rest of us braved the public transport system and got ourselves to Knossos.  The first thing we did there was sit down at a street-side restaurant for lunch.  By now this will not come as a surprise to anyone since 80% of our trip appears to have been spent sitting down and eating.  Then we paid six euros entrance admission per person to this bronze age archeological site and once through the gates were strongly urged to pay another ten euros per person for a guided tour.  We decided to wander around on our own and learn as little as possible.  There were a lot of rocks and ruins.  We saw a peacock.  The sun was really hot.  We congratulated ourselves on six euros well spent and hit the gift shops.

This is where I bought a cute little chess set.  I don’t even play chess.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t admire the cuteness of Zeus and Athena and the Spartan warriors. There are some very persuasive shop owners in this country.

imageimage
Sunday, the 25th of May we were up early to catch yet another bus, this one taking us to the Imbros Gorge.  Here’s what the brochure says.

This gentle walk lasts about 2 hours and takes you through the captivating countryside, passing mountain villages and the impressive White Mountains.  At the end of the Gorge is Komitades village, where you will have free time for lunch.  Afterwards, drive to Frangokastelo, an old Venetian castle, where your guide will tell you all about its interesting past before you go for a swim in the Libyan Sea. 

Here’s what actually happened.  Our guide told us the eight kilometre walk was not an easy one, down hill over very rocky terrain.  She made it sound sufficiently horrendous that when I was given the option to ride down the hill with two French-speaking ladies (one of them had a cane) I completely chickened out and got back on the bus.  The others all did it in a little over two hours while I sat around drinking water and lemonade.  I regret this not one little bit.  Because when the walk was over my family informed me that I would not have enjoyed that at all.  Which I took to mean I would have been a complaining pain in the ass all the way down and they had a much better time without me.

I don’t remember any castle.  Did we see a castle?  And I wasn’t out in the sun for eight km either.  I do remember some crazy Libyan Sea swimmers, but I wasn’t one of them either.  I was impressed by some interesting washroom doors though, so the trip certainly wasn’t wasted on me.

On the 26th we were homeward bound.  Bus at five a.m. to get to the airport, one hour flight from Crete to Athens.  About a three-hour wait to board the Transat flight from Athens to Toronto.  Nine or so hours in the air watching movies and tv shows and playing games on a touch television screen.  I never even thought about sleeping.  Our flight arrived 45 minutes early in Toronto.  That meant almost a six-hour wait for my next flight, but I was able to change it to an earlier one.  Thank you WestJet.  Then there was another three-hour flight home.  With nine hours mysteriously added to the day.  A cab ride home I barely remember.  And then sleep consumed me.

I had one day to deal with jet lag and then it was back to work for four days, one day off, and three more days of work.  And here I am, still alive and in relatively good humor.  Amazing.

I’m glad I went on this trip and I know I’m lucky and blessed and privileged to have been there and done that and gotten back home safe and sound.  Now can I just stay at home forever and never go anywhere again?  Except for our trip to Ontario this summer of course;  that doesn’t count.  I mean flying across oceans.  I think I’d like to be done with ocean crossing and messing around with time zones and figuring out other country’s plumbing.

Thank you for listening and commenting and looking at my photos.  I’m off now to reply to comments that are so old you’ve forgotten you made them.