A Power Nap (Ontario)

It is official we are 11.5 hours behind schedule. I’ve missed my connecting trains from Toronto to Montréal (scheduled for 1630 today Saturday 19th) so it is anyone’s guess where I will have my head on a pillow tonight. I may need to slip in a few power naps during the day.

Overnight I sensed that we stopped a few times, but my sleep was restful. At breakfast I sat with a woman from south China who is reuniting with her 13-year-old son in Toronto where he has been on a two-week summer camp–his first time away from home. The other couple were French. Well he was French, she is Greek and they live in Paris and are both computer experts. Her accent is almost Australian. It was an interesting international exchange of culture, food, language and laughter. The French couple like the big Canadian breakfasts, while the Chinese mother and I are more comfortable with a small continental type meal. However, we all soaked up the coffee.

We passed through little communities of Algoma and Sudbury. Just a few houses scatted around the railway line on the shores of yet another lake. While we are in this summer period of lush greenery it beguiles the harsh environment of the desolate winters here. There are no gutters on the roofs of homes or outbuildings, so the snow can slide off. The gardens are left to the natural elements and the roads are hard packed gravel that apparently turn to frozen mud for six-months of the year. It must be such a different trip in winter, everything covered in snow, lakes frozen, blankets of white everywhere.

The day has turned cool, heavily overcast, changing the colours of the vegetation to a more muted hue and the lakes have lost their lustre of bright blue. The long straight stretches of rail have given way to gentle curves, as the tracks meander around the edges of one lake before encountering the next one. Even the atmosphere on the trains seems to belie that of the outside. People are quieter today. Possibly over the flush of meeting new people and are comfortable sitting, dozing and reading. There are twenty of us in the upper lounge and no one is talking. A few are reading, one playing a computer game, there is the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, which is making my nose twitch, a teenage boy is undertaking a biology project and two of us are drafting Blogs. Drafting, as there is no Internet connection. We have just been advised that the first sitting for lunch is at 1130–an hour away and I haven’t got over breakfast yet.

‘Wild fires’ have ravaged this area in the recent past. However, the rejuvenation shows just how resilient Mother Nature is. Then it is as if the fires suddenly stopped and the train enters a lush cave-like tunnel of green with the branches of some of the trees almost touching above us. The birch and fur trees are older, bigger and have thicker trunks that I have seen during the past two days. The terrain is changing as well. There are small hills and we seem to be climbing a little, the curves in the track are more frequent and there are frequent level crossings. Ah time to pull over on to a siding … no doubt a freight train has priority.

This Blog was written on Saturday August 19. Similar to yesterday, there is no Internet access where I am currently. As with yesterday’s Blog, it may be a day or so before this gets out to the world.

PS–I made it to Toronto, almost twelve hours late. Canada Rail was a little better organised on the ground. I had vouchers for the York Hotel, across the road from the station, and a $15 for a meal or a drink, or two. I opted for the drink. The barman lived in Adelaide and worked at Pembroke School for a year or so. My train to Montréal departs at twenty past nine Sunday morning.

 

Ten hours behind schedule…

…and I don’t really care. I’m here for thirty more hours.

The three-dozen or so passengers who boarded in Winnipeg eventually settled in around 0630 Friday morning. Thankfully I got on board before it rained, as the platform is in the open and not sealed. The staff on-board are friendly and guided me through the various aspects of the sleeping quarters. Quite compact cabins and certainly no room for other than carry-on luggage. I climbed into bed expecting to be comatosed by the clackety clack of the train over the rails. However, the train moved no more than two Km and stopped on a bridge spanning the Red River. We sat for at least another hour and I dozed.

A big breakfast was offered…mine consisted of a coffee and toast. As I returned to my ‘cell’ the train started to move and I was quickly lulled to sleep. Freight trains have the priority on the rails here. I have been surprised by the amount of freight movement by rail with the consists long (160-200 flats) and often the containers are stacked double. The passenger trains are regularly shunted off to sidings or stopped to allow freight to pass uninterrupted. So schedules for passenger services across Canada are flexible. For sure, the east-west trains do not run early.

Unlike travel by plane, people on trains move around, sit together for meals, or to have a coffee and talk. The majority seem to be retired, but there are younger travellers as well. Apparently there are some other Aussies on-board, but I haven’t caught up with them as yet. People are friendly, chat and are inquisitive about Australia. Talking to an almost captured audience, they are interested in my research and oral history in general. The idea of linking their narrative to their collection of family photographs is appealing and not something that had been considered previously by any with whom I have spoken. Maybe I’m having a little influence.

The early part of this journey is over open prairie, crops, hay waiting to be bailed and small herds of cattle. The countryside is very flat and so green for the middle of summer. After some further stops to let freight through we slowly moved in to forests. Young pines, birch, cedars, maples and elms pack each side of the tracks. There are patches where a fire had swept through and the pines were dead. However, new trees are starting to reclaim their rights again. Then there are lakes–dozens of them. Small communities, holidaymakers, canoeing and fishing are common to see. However, most of the lakes are pristine with no one disturbing the tranquillity. Apparently Ontario, where we are as I type this up, has tens of thousands of lakes in its Province. I’m sitting in the upper-deck viewing lounge and the vistas are special. Green and blue, trees and water. I estimate that we are travelling at around 60 km per hour so it is a comfortable speed to take in the scenery. As I typed this we slowed to a jogging pace again–no we have stopped.

By mid afternoon the fuel tanks had to be topped up at a small hamlet, interestingly called Sioux Lookout. At a guess there would only be a few hundred people living here, including a First Nation community. While we could hop off and stretch our legs there was no time to leave the siding/station.

The journey has been in sun since about 10 am and I am still mesmerised by the number of lakes. It seems that every half a kilometre there is a new body of water, another wide creek or a swampy marsh. The service from the dining car is outstanding and the food in preparation, presentation and taste is excellent. I contemplated buying a book to read on the trip, but I am glad I didn’t. There has been much to do. Okay, some Blogging, but meeting others, mainly Americans and Canadians, some from China and India and the other elusive Australians.

After the re-fuelling I sat in the lounge car where two musicians were entertaining anyone who stopped to listen. Apparently Canada Rail provides complementary travel for entertainers between Vancouver and Toronto, if they entertain the paying customers during the journey. I spent forty minutes listening to them sing whilst playing the banjo and ukulele. It is a small, small world. We spoke between renditions of Beatles music, Gordon Lightfoot and others, plus some local folk songs as well. Perri is a classical pianist and is based with an opera company in Toronto. Phil is a sound technician and works in the Centre for Oral History and Digital Story Telling, at Concordia University, were I am heading next.

Dinner is over; I was in the first sitting. It is dark outside, the clocks have been wound forward as we travel further east and the speed of the train has picked up considerably. There must be a clear line and no slow moving freight trains. Time to pull down the bed and catch up on some sleep.

This Blog was written on Friday August 18, but there is no Internet access in the middle of Ontario. It may be a day or so before this gets out to the world.

 

Five hours at Union Station

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The update board and the time mystically changes

It had to happen. I’m stuck in the Winnipeg railway station and the passenger train is idling on some siding still three hours away. I’m not alone. There is about a dozen people are also lounging around the waiting area. At least the kids have run our of puff and have crashed into a quiet slumber. This is one busy rail route. The waiting area is under the tracks and there are extremely long consists moving in either direction every fifteen to twenty minutes.

I was told today that during the height of the cold war, Russia had nuclear missiles trained on Winnipeg as it was a strategic rail hub for North America. Hopefully mad Kim does not have the same idea.

The beautiful building dates back well over 100 years. It is typical of the rail monoliths constructed by the rail barons in the 1800s and early 1900s–grand, ornate and impressive. Many of the out buildings that were part of the rail-yards in the previous century have been restored and used as part of the Fork Historic Site. This is a cultural, historic and food area to please anyone looking for a relaxing drink, a bite to eat or some Canadian memorabilia.

 

There is an outdoor stage area that is turned in to an ice rink in winter. The adjacent Red River, (Muddy Waters)… freezes in winter also. The centre of the frozen river is cleared of any debris and skaters can glide for kilometres in either direction. Engineers check it each day to ensure it is safe.

Another hour has passed and so has the arrival time. Very quietly the time of arrival has been changed to 4am on Friday. The train is now six and a half hours late. At this rate I will not be arriving in Montreal until Sunday–24-hours later than expected.

I have put the time to good use. I had a seventy-minute power nap. Marked five PR GradDip assignments. Re-drafted a five-minute Podcast for the same class. Cleared a bunch of emails from students. Written this blog. But I need a coffee!

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After the power nap– now I need another one, it’s 2am.

The chalenges of Travelling

Do I qualify?

Do I qualify?

In a previous post I mentioned that the train from Sazlburg to Frankfurt was cancelled resulting in a round-about trip via Munich and Nuremburg.  Thankfully none of the flights were cancelled.  However, booking your bag from Frankfurt to Manila does give one a moment of worry – four airports and two different airlines.

The flight to Dubai was uneventful other than having a snotty little six-year old needing a good slap on the bum.  Yes I know, child assault, but parents either ignoring her bad behaviour or telling her she will be put in the naughty corner does not work.  I was about to speak to the parents when one of the flight crew politely asked them to manage their daughter.  Anyone would have thought that it was declaration of war the way they reacted until about five other passengers voiced their concerns pointedly and loudly.  The result – three very subdued people for the rest of the flight.  Plus they got some child rearing advice from a number of passengers as we were disembarking.

I prefer an aisle seat when flying and had that arranged online before I left Frankfurt.  But I got bumped.  Apparently a family of four – with two young kids – needed to sit together.  Okay I wasn’t complaining, but the only available seat was in the middle of one of the rows.  Ugg I hate that.  Then at the boarding gate I was asked to step aside.  The result, an upgrade to Business class.  For a night flight it is the only way to go.  For the seven hour flight to Singapore I slept for five hours.

The transfer at Changi airport was simple, but time-consuming however, I managed an aisle seat again for both legs of the Philippines flight.  This was a different experience though.  Philippines Airline is a no frills airline.  A coffee or cold drink if you ask for it, no inflight entertainment and noise, not the engines, but the passengers.  Ninty-nine point two seven five were Filipino (naturally) and they talked and talked and talked.  Even to me, as they wanted to practice their English.  It was an interesting flight.  It was bumpy and a number of times we had to buckle-up.  Coming into Manila airport, wheels down and locked, I estimate we were about a minute from touch down and then the approach was aborted.  I have never experienced this previously.  All conversations stopped and the silence was heavy.  Resigned to leaving my fate in the hands of the flight deck, the look of concern on the other passengers could have mirrored my own.  Then try number two.  Third time lucky I hoped.  Apparently there were severe wind sheers close to the ground causing some problems for the pilot.

Manila airport is busy and a little chaotic.  English is a third language here, so it took me a while to navigate my way through Passport Control, but being a ‘teacher/lecturer/academic is valued in the Philippines and helped the process.  Then to collect my one bag.  Other than a mild dispute with an American woman who mistook my bag for hers, (apparently it was my fault for having a bag like hers) the next chllenge was the transfer to the domestic flight to Cebu.  Twenty minutes later I was directed to the Gate for the final leg of this journey.  Mmmm wrong gate.  Total confusion.  The plane was at one gate and the passengers at another.  A thirty minute delay but we eventually got away.  The pilot must have stepped on the gas as the ninety minute flight took seventy.  Once again my bag and I were reunited.  It was nice to walk out of the airport and see a familiar face.

The taxi ride to the Henry Hotel was an eyeopener.  The roads were not crowded, they were packed.  Complex road junctions didn’t have traffic lights, but it all seemed to move in some order.  Road works, two lanes merged into one, motorbikes meandering between slow moving vehicles, horns blaring and the ‘trikes’ and hop-on hop-off vans stopped where-ever to collect or disgorge passengers.  Three or four on a motorbike, people hanging off the backs of the vans, the heat and the noise.  What a vibrant, rich and constantly moving morass of vehicles, people and images.  The twenty-five minute taxi ride cost P175, sounds a lot, but it works out to A$6.25.

I think that some of the constant complainers and whinging ‘Advertiser, Letters to the Editor‘ writers in Adelaide need to get out a bit more often. Life in Australia is not all that bad.

This is a rather long Post, my apologies for that, but the process of travel has been interesting, enjoyable, frustrating, and educational.

The Henry Hotel here in Cebu is an experience to enjoy.  I will cover it with some photographs of this quirky and different hotel.  It is Sunday and I’m invited to a colleague’s son’s fourth birthday celebrations.  I anticipated this and have a ‘Blinky Bill’ DVD for him.  Apparently he loves animals, animated and real.  I wonder how the cross cultural understandings will work out?