British Columbia -- Summer 2010

July in NS is notorious for rain, so we packed up our free-to-fly baby and went west for three weeks to visit friends and family.

We started in Mike's old stomping grounds, the city of Vancouver, where we stayed with the lovely Katie, Geordie and Nicola. From their deck, we picked and ate delicious cherries from a tree. We went to parks, the beach and the very enviable Kitsilano Pool. It's Canada's longest pool and its turquoise waters stretch along the natural waterfront, so it has views of the ocean and the mountains. If we needed a reason to live in Vancouver, that's it.

In our rented Matrix, we ventured into the land of Ogopogo. We stayed in Kelowna with Scott, Claire, Milo and Esme and were visited by Christine. Jackpot! We went boating and swimming in Lake Okanagan and again, explored the local parks, ate great food and sampled the local wines. Chill zone.

The last stop on our BC tour was Vancouver Island, home of Tim, Brandy & Taylor. For the first time, two tiny coastal cousins met : repping the Atlantic, Chloe Mint and on the Pacific side, Taylor Rae. The tots crawled to each other shyly and ambled around various toys. Some syllables were exchanged but only they know the true meanings.

Together we went to Tofino where we rented a cottage near the beach. The water was freezing, but the atmosphere was warm. We strolled along the sand between the ocean waves and the enormous trees. Our babies were pleasant. We barbecued. Kristen left her wallet on the beach, but someone mailed it to NS a few weeks later -- with the money still in it.

I'm predicting the Luckhounds run that trip back in a few years. We l.o.v.e. BC.

Gulf Shore, Montreal, Maine -- Summer 2009

This was our last little trip before becoming parents, about a month and a half before Chloe was born. Since Kristen was too pregnant to fly, we made it a roadie in our new family hatchback, spending a few days in a cottage on the Gulf Shore, NS and a night in Quebec City.

When we bought the concert tickets, The Beastie Boys were set to headline Osheaga, the annual music festival in Montreal. They had to cancel their performance, but we still got to see The Roots, K'Naan and Coldplay. Dartmouth reps Bridget, Brian and Meghan met us at the concert. Aaron and Leigh met us in the city the next night. Luckhounds strike again.

In no real rush, we took the long way home through creepy Steven King moose-filled Maine, notably spending a night in a hunting cabin down a long dirt road in a town called Jackman. Well, not exactly Jackman...

Having detoured through Quebec and spent the WHOLE day at Ikea, it was dark when we crossed into Maine. What looked like a hop-skip on our map turn out to be quite a stretch. The border guard told us not to drive more than 20. Yikes, and he didn't mean metric. The road was newly paved, no lines painted on it, and it was peak moose mating season. Hitting one would be fatal. We drove at snail-pace, white knuckles, eyes peeled. With our headlights lighting a small path in front of us, we saw a huge owl fly over our car, a red fox cross in front of us and a moose lurking hornily on the side of the road. Around midnight, we rolled into Jackman, Maine, but Jackman's motels had no vacancies, completely booked by bear hunters, getting ready for the season.

Through his office cluttered with enormous stuffed beasts, the most American-looking person I can imagine (6'2, barrel-chest, "God Bless the USA" T-shirt) lent us a hand. He led us to his daughter's cabins in the woods, which frightened us. On the way he said, "When you see a moose's eyes, it's too late." We arrived safely and slept in pine bunks. Super-scary at night, gorgeous in the daytime.

We motored on, crossed in Calais/ St. Stephen and spent the night in St. John with the Taylors. We stayed up late, chatting away.

El Amor en Cuba

March 2009

We'd been back to work without major travel for almost two years when we set out for Cuba. The occasion -- Tim & Brandy's wedding. The settings -- a beautiful resort on the white sands of Varadero and an overnighter in Havana.

That Friday after work, we practically skipped home, knowing our bags were packed and waiting. A limo-bus pulled up in front of our house and we joined the party already in progress -- bridesmaids, groomsmen and friends, already sippin' in the light of day, headed to the airport.

We spent the first two days at the resort, relaxing on the beach and catching up with friends and family. On the third day we negotiated a cab ride to La Habana for a night, where we had booked a hostel.

Now we've stayed in some dodgy places, but when we got out of the cab... gulp. The old beige buildings along the dusty narrow street seemed to be crumbling before me. The locals hanging on the street were smirking. We rang the doorbell and a little lady stuck her head out of the window above and welcomed us enthusiastically. She ran down and let us into her place, through her living room and down a hall where she rented out four bedrooms. It was clean and full of character, definitely retro, like Havana itself. The mattress sagged, the sheets were pilly, the furniture didn't match, the ceiling fan was precariously low and very loud, and we loved it. We were back to our luckhounds roots.

The entire city of Havana is a UNESCO Heritage site. It is an anomaly. The city is occupied by people who never built it, and cannot maintain it. Multi-generational families occupy the inner labyrinths of the crumbling colonial buildings. A can of fresh paint would go longer here than anywhere.

Flying in from Mexico City, Armando was supposed to meet us at the hostel at 6 and in classic Armando fashion, he was late. Muy muy tarde, like hours. We didn't know what kind of trouble our amigo had gotten himself into. When he finally showed up, after 11 PM, he matter-of-factly explained that his flight's landing had been delayed because of another important arrival, that of Venezuelan presidente, socialist Hugo Chavez. Claro que si.

St. Patrick's Day, the wedding was romantic and picture-perfect. We rocked out, dancing late into the night.

A week in Paradise.

http://www.solmeliacuba.com/cuba-hotels/hotel-paradisus-varadero/

Halifax

So we're home. That's it for now. The magnificence of the adventure we just had is going to take a while to sink in. Thank-you so much to the people who followed us around the world through this blog. The blog was a presence on our trip and helped us sort through our photos and keep track of what was happening. It's a great souvenir in itself.

Thanks for reading. Peace.

Ireland and England

The last leg of our trip has been spent with friends and family. Travis and Margaret took us into their home in Ennis, Ireland, a beautiful town in County Clare. Their little ones, Taylor and Saorse charmed us while baby Griffin, twelve days old when we showed up, awakened to the world. We got to see the Irish countryside including the Cliffs of Moher and had a great time at the local pubs. Due to Ireland's ambitious quest to lessen lung cancer and drunk-driving, the pubs may not be as packed as they once were, but they are still Guinness-fuelled musical fun. Mike imbibed a pint or three and I suffered the olfactory curse of the infamous Guinness Gas via Dutch Oven.

In London, Mike's aunt Mary picked us up at the airport in her cool convertible and took us to their home in Beaconsfield, where she has been spoiling us ever since. We have gone to Oxford, Windsor Castle, Stratford-upon-Avon and London, which brings me to my favourite dead Brit, William Shakespeare. We walked through Shakespeare's family home and the adjoining museum and we were starstruck. The house is restored to what it probably looked like when Shakes was a child. We tried to absorb genius vibes. The next day, we went to London and saw Othello, The Moor of Venice at The Globe Theatre. It was a dream come true for English teachers. We stood in the yard with the scrubs and it was a long show but fantastic.

Coming soon... the last blog. We're almost home.

Vive La France

After Venice, we had planned to stay in Antibes, but since we were the only travellers not arriving by yacht, it wasn't really our scene. After one night, we hopped on a train to Nice, where we spent five relaxing days in the sun on the Cote d'Azure. The water and sky were brilliant shades of blue. The pebbly beach was lined with palm trees.

Continuing through baguette country, we stopped in Avignon for a few days. Our first night, we stumbled upon (and out of) La Festival du Vin et de la Vigne and sampled nice wines from the south of France. This took place in the plaza next to the Palais des Papes, a fortress/palace built in the 14th century for the papal court. Quel backdrop. Of course we also danced a little step on the Pont-St-Bénézet aka "le Pont d'Avignon". We took day trips to Arles and saw the inspiration for several of Vincent Van Gogh's paintings and to Cannes, where the film festival was beginning; we did see the famous red carpet but we got bored of waiting for the stars of "Zodiac" to walk down the stairs and so we left.

In Paris, we met Ryan, Christine and Baby Rowyn and had a blast on a whirlwind tour of the attractions: Musées du Louvre, d'Orsay et Carnavalais, la tour Eiffel, Cimetiere Père LaChaise, Arc de Triomphe, Cathédrale Notre Dame, Basilique Sacre Coeur and Montmarte, Amélie Poulain's neighbourhood. We cracked the codes of the Donatello, Raphael and Michaelangelo, the three remaining Ninja Turles. Take that, D.Brown.

La France est maginifique. Shout-out to our friends in Trosly-Breuil, Cathryn and Jean-Marie.

Venice in Pics