So, there I was, on the train to Cardiff having just said a tearful good-bye to Kevin. Elsa was funny when I said bye to her in the car. She was already upset and crying because she had to leave her grandma's house. When I told her I was leaving and that I would miss her, she turned away and gave me the hand, saying "No, no!". She has a hard time with good-byes. I was still in denial that my trip was actuially over. I found myself wishing I could stay longer and/or rewind by a few weeks and do it all again.
I arrived at my hotel at around 10:00 pm and watched a bit of TV to unwind before turning in. It was a real treat to sleep in a nice big comfortable bed after 9 weeks of sleeping on couches, floors, narrow hostel beds, in tree forts, airplane seats and on the ground. At 4:00 am, my alarm went off, after only 4 hours of sleep. Groan...time to go to the airport to catch my 6:00 flight to Amsterdam. After going through security and settling in to the waiting area I hear an announcement about a flight delay. Oh no, I think to myself, I hope it's not too long. At least I have a 5 hour wait between flights in Amsterdam so I shouldn't have a problem making my flight to Montreal. At around 7:00 am, an hour after the flight was to take off, they announce that my flight will be delayed until 1:30 pm...WHAT!!!???!!! I just about lost my will to live at that moment...I knew I would certainly miss my flight to Montreal, unless it was also delayed. For the first time in my life, I was actually wishing for a flight delay.
So, I spent the next 6 hours trying to kill time at the Cardiff airport...not the most exciting place on earth. I spent a part of it sleeping in the uncomfortable waiting area chairs in about 3 or 4 different positions so that my aches and pains would be evenly distributed throughout my body rather than being concentrated in one area. Finally at 1:45 pm, the plane took off. I landed in Amsterdam at approximately 3:30 pm, local time (2 hours after my flight to Montreal should have left). I kept repeating in my head "Please be delayed, please be delayed, please be delayed". My head didn't listen though because my flight had departed on time and I had missed it. The airport was in UTTER CHAOS: People everywhere, wandering around looking dazed and perplexed, people running to their gates, kilometre long queues for people trying to get flights after delays and cancellations had thrown them into crisis. It was like the aftermath of a natural disaster. Okay, now what??? First, call Jane (my friend who Lizanne and I stayed with at the beginning of our trip) and request another sleep over: Done! Second, get in one of several kilometre long line ups for 5 hours (no exaggeration) or get beer and use internet: Beer and internet win. Third: Get in one of the line-ups that had not diminished even after 2 hours or just go to Jane's and worry about it tomorrow: Going to Jane's wins.
So, once again, I found myself being welcomed warmly by Jon and Jane. It seemed fitting in a way that I should spent the last night of my travels at the very same place I spent the first night of my travels. The next day, I made my way to the airport and, although chaos still reigned, I boarded my flight on time and arrived in Montreal exactly 24 hours after I was originally supposed to be there. For the first few hours, the cats acted like they didn't know me but then when it was bed time, they couldn't get settled into the bed (and on top of me) quickly enough.
The very next day, I made the long bus and metro journey to my birth father's for our family Christmas. I was more than a little jet-lagged and quite tired but I managed to hang in there until around midnight when everyone went to bed. Here are couple photos of the gift opening ritual.
I arrived at my hotel at around 10:00 pm and watched a bit of TV to unwind before turning in. It was a real treat to sleep in a nice big comfortable bed after 9 weeks of sleeping on couches, floors, narrow hostel beds, in tree forts, airplane seats and on the ground. At 4:00 am, my alarm went off, after only 4 hours of sleep. Groan...time to go to the airport to catch my 6:00 flight to Amsterdam. After going through security and settling in to the waiting area I hear an announcement about a flight delay. Oh no, I think to myself, I hope it's not too long. At least I have a 5 hour wait between flights in Amsterdam so I shouldn't have a problem making my flight to Montreal. At around 7:00 am, an hour after the flight was to take off, they announce that my flight will be delayed until 1:30 pm...WHAT!!!???!!! I just about lost my will to live at that moment...I knew I would certainly miss my flight to Montreal, unless it was also delayed. For the first time in my life, I was actually wishing for a flight delay.
So, I spent the next 6 hours trying to kill time at the Cardiff airport...not the most exciting place on earth. I spent a part of it sleeping in the uncomfortable waiting area chairs in about 3 or 4 different positions so that my aches and pains would be evenly distributed throughout my body rather than being concentrated in one area. Finally at 1:45 pm, the plane took off. I landed in Amsterdam at approximately 3:30 pm, local time (2 hours after my flight to Montreal should have left). I kept repeating in my head "Please be delayed, please be delayed, please be delayed". My head didn't listen though because my flight had departed on time and I had missed it. The airport was in UTTER CHAOS: People everywhere, wandering around looking dazed and perplexed, people running to their gates, kilometre long queues for people trying to get flights after delays and cancellations had thrown them into crisis. It was like the aftermath of a natural disaster. Okay, now what??? First, call Jane (my friend who Lizanne and I stayed with at the beginning of our trip) and request another sleep over: Done! Second, get in one of several kilometre long line ups for 5 hours (no exaggeration) or get beer and use internet: Beer and internet win. Third: Get in one of the line-ups that had not diminished even after 2 hours or just go to Jane's and worry about it tomorrow: Going to Jane's wins.
So, once again, I found myself being welcomed warmly by Jon and Jane. It seemed fitting in a way that I should spent the last night of my travels at the very same place I spent the first night of my travels. The next day, I made my way to the airport and, although chaos still reigned, I boarded my flight on time and arrived in Montreal exactly 24 hours after I was originally supposed to be there. For the first few hours, the cats acted like they didn't know me but then when it was bed time, they couldn't get settled into the bed (and on top of me) quickly enough.
The very next day, I made the long bus and metro journey to my birth father's for our family Christmas. I was more than a little jet-lagged and quite tired but I managed to hang in there until around midnight when everyone went to bed. Here are couple photos of the gift opening ritual.
The tree before plunging into the presents 
My sister, Helene, and her partner, Erik with the mobile I brought my nephew from Rwanda
My other sister, Julie, trying to make my nephew laugh
My nephew, Mattias
My father, Jocelyn, being goofy
Jocelyn and his wife, Esther, with the ornament I brought from Ireland 
Two of my aunts, Lucette and Francine, relaxing after supper
The annual family photo
The next day, we all left for a small town just outside of Quebec City to spend a few days with extended family, i.e. aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, etc. I do not have any pictures of this, as my camera died after I managed to get one shot of the sunset, through the window, on Christmas Eve:
That night, after a delicious meal, we exchanged gifts and played games. The next morning we started Christmas Day with a mass. The priest asked me to do the first reading (in french) and, although it wasn't in my plan, I agreed. Considering it was in french and the words were far from being ordinary, everyday words (you know how the bible is), I managed to get through it with only one or two minor slips ups. After mass we had a big brunch and then I played street hockey with some of my uncles and cousins in the afternoon. Brace yourselves: This was the first time in my entire life that I had ever played hockey. I know, how is that possible, having grown up in Montreal? It was fun and a lot harder than it looks!That evening, after a fantastic turkey dinner with all the trimmings, the Karaoke came on. My young cousin, who just finished law school, got us started by singing Eye of the Tiger...really really badly...and with a french accent. It was painful and hilarious at the same time!! I really admire his courage and his ability to laugh at himself, because he was fully aware that he can't sing to save his life. His goal, which he accomplished, was to break the ice for everyone else and make us all feel at ease by setting the bar really low! I eventually mustered up the courage to get up and sing with my aunt (I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor) and then with my cousin (You Oughtta Know by Alanis Morissette) and then with my uncle (Copacabana by Barry Manilow) and then, after a few more glasses of wine, the piece de resistance...I got up and sang Sex Bomb by Tom Jones...solo!! I'm sure you can imagine how popular that one was. After a few more gutsy performances, my cousin (yes the one who started it all) got up and sang My Heart Will Go On (Titanic song) by Celine Dion...groooooooaaaaaan...now THAT was painful. His performance pretty much put and end to Karaoke for the night...
The next day, boxing day, I spent a bit of time in Quebec City just checking out the sights and shops. I returned to find a surprise waiting at the house. The only uncle I hadn't met had arrived unexpectedly from Winsdor, Ontario to surprise everyone. We played a few more games in the afternoon, had a great supper and then sat around and chatted in the evening. The next morning, Dec. 27, we hit the road and headed back to Montreal.
All in all, despite my slight apprehension at the thought of spending 3 days in a house with a large group of people who, for the most part, I didn't know, I had a FANTASTIC time! It was such a nice way to make the transition from travelling the world to settling back into Canada. It was also good to spend quality time getting to know my family members and having fun/being silly together.
Upon my return to Montreal I spent a few days relaxing and recovering from all the celebrating and then got ready to do just a little bit more. My cousin had a fantastic new year's eve party, featuring a huge bonfire in the back yard. What a great way to welcome 2010: outside, around a fire, snow falling, champagne glass in hand.
Shannon (my cousin) and me
Shannon and her friend Robert 
Although this blog has ended with an emphasis on holiday/family oriented experiences, it was largely a travel blog...the first (and possibly the last) blog I have ever written. Ronato and Skye were my inspiration for writing this, so thanks to both of you. It has proven to be an extremely time-consuming endeavour and, for this reason, I am not sure I will do another one on my next trip. Having said that, I am REALLY glad I did it because it served a number of important purposes: It allowed my friends and family to keep up with what I was doing on my trip and "live vicariously" through my experiences (as some have said). It provided me with an opportunity to process some of my thoughts, feelings and impressions about my experiences and to share them with the people in my life. It also kept me from having to tell all my stories over and over again, which can be exhausting. Not to mention, each time I tell a story I tend to include fewer and fewer details...so this way everyone gets the same information (including all the rich detail and photos) at roughly the same time.
Finally, I want to share an insight I had about travel. I was thinking about travelling and the various reasons people do it...why I travel...hmmmm, why do I travel? Why do I spend thousands of dollars to get on planes, go to other parts of the world, deal with the stress and inconvenience of it, expose myself to danger and disease? What is the point? The answer I came up with is: I don't just live in Victoria or Montreal or Canada. I live on this planet. The world is my home, not just the city, province or country I live in, and I want to become as intimately acquainted with my world as possible.
At this point in my life, I want to spend my time and money collecting experiences, not things... and travelling is the best way I can think of to become a hoarder of experiences! Thank you for reading this and allowing me to share my thoughts and experiences with you.
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