Montreal: Canadians are Hard Core

My husband has been pining to go to Quebec for years, but because I am the travel planner, it has always gotten overruled by a more exotic destination. So, when he was asked to attend a two-week training in Montreal, I decided to ride his coat tails, once again, and take advantage of the company paid, downtown hotel room. Plus, it was Valentine’s weekend and what better place to spend it than in a city that is a perfect mélange of our two cultures and languages.

I know what your thinking. Who goes to Montreal in February? I spent 31 years in Detroit and could handle a weekend in Montreal. BUT I didn’t expect it to be the coldest damn winter in 20 years. Let this Buzzfeed article put things in perspective: 25 Truly Terrifying Photos of the Snow in Eastern Canada.

Not exactly motivating to get out of bed and "Carpe Diem".

Not exactly motivating to get out of bed and Carpe Diem.

We arrived late Friday night and quickly jumped in a warm taxi to our hotel. Saturday, we set out to have a hardy breakfast and do our normal marathon sightseeing. Within a block of the hotel, we realized our hats, gloves and shoes were not going to cut it if we wanted to keep our extremities. A few more blocks and the husband got desperate. I spotted a shop with more appropriate gear and we were like moths to a flame. $80 was spent on warmer hats, mittens and socks. A minor investment to protect this blogger’s typing fingers.

With a 20 degree increase in our core body temperature, we popped into a great little diner for breakfast and reevaluated our strategy for the day. I didn’t want to lose any toes so I suggested we throw in some indoor activities. The wait staff overheard us and chimed in with a couple great suggestions and detailed instructions on which bus to take. It’s true, Canadians really are so nice.

Normally, we are not museum people and would rather spend our time in a city walking around parks, districts and ports, but Montreal is the exception to the general rule. So off the Biodome and Planetarium we went.  The rest of Montreal had the same idea because the place was packed with other smart people who wanted to avoid hypothermia. Both venues were really well done, warm, indoors and worth every penny. Did I mention they were warm and indoors? We spent a few hours there and decided it would be a shame to let the jacuzzi at our hotel go to waste at a time like this. I can promise you, never has a hot tub been more appreciated.

Bundled up in Old Montreal

Bundled up in Old Montreal

We didn’t stay long because it was Valentine’s Day and we had dinner reservations at a 5-star Yelp reviewed restaurant called Santa Barbara. It did not disappoint. Situated in a quaint little residential neighborhood, the cozy restaurant had unique dishes that accommodated me (the plant eater) and my husband (the meat lover). Warm, happy and stuffed we must have forgotten the meteorological situation when we decided to take a walk through Old Montreal after dinner. The tiny streets and walkways were adorable and made us feel like we were in Europe. In about 30 seconds we were near frozen and stopped in a creperie for dessert. The price of the crepe was worth the heat, but let’s just say Montreal chefs should stick to poutine. Officially in a food coma and sick of not being able to feel my toes, we headed back to the hotel. It was one of the coldest walks of my life….until Sunday…and Monday, for that matter.

Prior to arriving in Montreal, we had read about the underground city and Sunday we set out in search of this elusive area. After several wrong turns and asking a few locals, we found what was a ginormous underground shopping mall. I was picturing Parisian catacombs and not the Mall of America, but whatever – it was indoors and warm, which was our only requirement at this time.

It was too cold to take pictures, but this one from Google captures Parc du Mont Royal perfectly.

It was too cold to take pictures, but this one from Google captures Parc du Mont Royal perfectly.

By lunch, the sun was deceiving shining and we decided when in Rome, do as the Romans do. So, cross-country skiing we went. Oh! My! Gawd! I have never been so cold in all my life. I nearly cried because the wind was so fierce and frigid. Normally, I break a nice sweat during cross-country, but I stayed frozen the whole time. However, what was most shocking was the all Canadians soaking up the snow. They were running, walking, playing, ice-skating, cross-country skiing and snow shoeing without so much as batting an eye. I will admit that the scenery was beautiful. On top of Parc du Mont Royal, we were surrounded with snow-covered trees, blue sky and views of the city below.  After a couple of hours, I had enough and wanted to teleport to the jacuzzi. Waiting for the bus was treacherous. My feet where officially white and my lips purple when we finally made it to the hotel.

Hey Girl, It's cold outside.

Hey Girl, It’s cold outside.

It’s hard to believe that Monday was supposed to be coldest day after the events of Sunday, but it was true. Preemptively, I decided we should go to the Warhol exhibit at the Fine Arts Museum. So, we waited for the bus, only to arrive and find it closed because it was a Monday. Therefore, we went to the more touristic Grevin Wax Museum. While less culturally stimulating, it was probably more fun than Warhol. With nothing indoor left to do on our list, we surrendered and spent the afternoon in the hotel jacuzzi. I was done with the cold and have no regrets.

I was ready to go home, but my Monday night flight back to Nashville was cancelled due to an ice storm in the south. One would think a travel warrior like myself might take advantage of the extra day and take in that Warhol exhibit. Nope. Slept in and went to the jacuzzi instead.

Yes, the cold was unbearable, but we still enjoyed the weekend. I loved speaking French with the Québécois and loved that when I got stuck, I could bounce back to English without missing a beat. Montreal is a beautiful North American city, but I don’t feel like I experienced it in all its glory, so I hope to return one day, preferably in July. Until then, Canadians, I salute you and your ability to endure these extreme conditions. You are hard core!

Top 10 Travel Tips to Colombia

In 2008 I uncovered one of my biggest life passions – TRAVEL (hence, the travel blog you are reading today). This all came about when my friend, Adam, was working in Bogotá, Colombia and talked me into coming to visit him for the country’s Carnival festival. I had traveled a little prior to this, but mostly in the US with a trip or two to Canada and Mexico. But, with Colombia’s reputation for crime, drugs and kidnappings, let’s just say I was being very adventurous.  This was my first big, solo international trip and I was both excited and nervous.

I remember that on my lay over in Atlanta, on the way to Bogotá, I met a guy, in a bar, who teased me that I better be careful or I’d wake up on ice with one less kidney. Nervous laugh. Then when I finally arrived in Bogotá and was deboarding the plane, I realized that all of the men carrying manilla envelopes were not in fact a tour group, but a plane of paroled deportees. One even tried to give me his phone number incase I wanted him to show me around while I was in Bogotá. I politely declined after remembering the travel warning on the State Department website. DO NOT TAKE ANYTHING FROM STRANGERS.

When I was there, I told Adam that I would write an essay with my Top 10 Travel Tips to Colombia. Recently, I found my journal, with these tips. So, better 5 years later than never, right?

And as an important side note, now that I’ve done a bit more traveling, these tips not only apply to Colombia, but nearly anywhere outside the United States.

10. Pack your patience. Our flight from Bogotá to Barranquilla was scheduled at 6pm. At 8pm, we were still sitting in the Bogotá airport, with absolutely zero communication from the airline staff. Then all of a sudden, without word, they boarded and the plane quickly departed. If I had gone to the bathroom, I would’ve missed the flight. Adam’s response – “Latin Efficiency.”

9. Bring your dancing shoes. We Americans can be really lame – myself included. In every other country in the world, the moment a song comes on, people start dancing and Colombia is no exception. Old men. Young men. Grandmothers. Great grandfathers. Babies. Everyone loves to dance.

8. Ride at your own risk. It’s perfectly acceptable to go 0 to 60 with brake lights an 1/8 of a mile up the road, only to hit the brakes 1 inch before you slam into the car in front of you. Why would you drive any other way? I’m talking to you, Colombian taxi drivers (and Chinese taxi-drivers, as I learned in 2010).

7. Forget the diet. How can you not indulge in the local food? When in Barranquilla, we stayed at a friend of Adam’s family’s house. They were so gracious and made us breakfast each morning. Greasy sausage, potatoes and other fried yummy things. Now that I think of it, it’s not that different from going to certain restaurants in Tennessee.

6. Don’t play the American card unless you have to. We spent the day being stars in the Carnival parade with Adam’s American colleagues and the party was just getting started. Why? Because not only was it Carnival, but it was also Super Bowl Sunday. We figured we’d just roll into a bar and kindly ask the bartender to put the game on. Well, it was Carnival and the bars were packed with Colombians who could give two squats about American Futbol. So, someone busted out the American card and an hour later we were having a great meal in a Chinese restaurant, in a private room, watching the Super Bowl. I’m not proud of it, but we were hungry and wanted to watch the game. And we may or may not have used the card again to get into a sold out party later than night.

5. Don’t get in a bus/taxi line without using the bathroom first. Refer to #10, because Murphy’s Law will come into play. you’ll get in line, do the pee-pee dance, wait, get frustrated, leave to find a bathroom, 20 taxi’s will pull up in your absence and then you’ll get to wait again.

4. When given the opportunity, shower first. Otherwise, prepare yourself for cold water.

3. Bring your own toilet paper. This was a rookie move. I now know the drill. BYOTP. And #3.1 is bring hand sanitizer.

2. Savior the country, the people, the food, the landscape. When I was dancing through the streets of Barranquilla in my ridiculous Carnival costume, I stopped looked at the people, the landscape, the buildings, the children, etc. Now, this is something I always do.

1. Don’t judge a country based on its reputation. Being in Colombia opened my eyes to the world and made me realize that you can not judge a country by its reputation. I never once felt uncomfortable or at risk, which I can’t say the same in my own country. Bogotá was very cosmopolitan, like New York City surrounded by mountains. Every city, every country has a sketchy side. EVERY SINGLE ONE. Most times, this case included, the reputation is simply not true. Believing these reputations would mean missing out on some amazing places, people and experiences.

The beautiful children watching the Carnival festivities

The beautiful children watching the Carnival festivities

Who are these crazy people?

Who are these crazy people?

Starting left: Me, Adam, Karrol & Eney

Starting left: Me, Adam, Karrol & Eney

See all of our adoring fans in the stands!

See all of our adoring fans in the stands!

Bogota

Bogota

To view photos from Colombia, click here. 

My Weekend on a Hippie Commune Famous for Midwifery

Here’s a post I never thought I’d write.

Years ago, I watched a very intriguing Netflix documentary, starring Ricki Lake, called The Business of Being Born. The movie explore’s the United State’s birthing system and how midwives have been pushed out of the equation.  The movie was so popular, that a sequel was filmed. In (the creatively titled) More Business of Being Born, (trailer below) Ricki Lake visits the Farm and interviews the world’s most famous midwife, Ina May Gaskin. Being very intrigued by this woman, I Googled her and discovered that she lives less than two hours away from me on a hippie commune that started in the 70’s called, the Farm.

A detailed history of the Farm can be found here. But in a nutshell, in 1970, 60 school buses, full of hippies, traveled across the country from San Francisco, in search of a place to live the lifestyle they wanted and to raise their children in a sheltered, peaceful environment. During their community’s establishment, many of their women were pregnant and without health insurance, so the easiest solution was for them to become midwives. Later, while the nations cesarean section rate grew, theirs diminished. Currently the Farm Midwives have a 94.7% home birth success rate, a 1.7% c- section rate and a 96.8% success rate of VBAC’s. More stats can be found here.

And so the adventure began. Along with two friends from Michigan, I registered for “Farm Experience Weekend”. The weekend promised hikes, workshops on vegan cooking, organic growing, midwifery and a taste of what it’s like to live off the grid. Amy, Kim and I were both excited and scared as we packed the car with enough supplies to live in the woods for a week. We had no idea what to expect. Will there be electricity? Will they have hot water? What will we do for protein? Should we bring toilet paper? And the most important question, will there be cell phone service? I’ll spare you the answers to each of these questions and just show you our accommodations at Phil & Mary’s house.

Phil & Mary's house

Phil & Mary’s house

Amy relaxing in our "rustic" accommodations.

Amy relaxing in our “rustic” accommodations.

Hot tub, anyone?

Hot tub, anyone?

The grand porch overlooking the woods at Phil & Mary's.

The grand porch overlooking the woods at Phil & Mary’s.

Our living room

Our living room

The weekend began with a very yummy meal at Doug, the organizer’s house. Enchiladas with salad. Everything, made and grown by him. Followed by soy ice cream from the Farm’s soy dairy. After dinner he gave us a tour of his garden, where he proudly gave us the secret to large, homegrown, organic onions. Pee. Yes, kids, you read correctly. Human pee. I thought Amy, was going to make a run for it. From that point on, every time a meal was presented, we’d very passively ask, “This looks yummy. What was it made with?”

Saturday was jam-packed with more homegrown meals, a meeting with the principal of the Farm school, a visit to the Eco-Village Training Center, tours of alternatively build homes and a hike on their private land, followed by a community dinner.

The most interesting part of the day was our visit to the Farm school where we spent time talking with the principal/janitor, Peter Kindfield. A former educator in the New York City School system, Peter came to the Farm looking for something completely different. Their school, of 30 kids, is a collaborative. The students dictate the curriculum and the teachers oblige. If they don’t want to do something, they don’t. Now, I know what you’re thinking – the kids aren’t learning jack and probably play video games all day. Surprisingly, it’s quite the opposite. Nearly all of their students make smooth transitions to universities. However, they are encouraged to attend the local community college before hand so they won’t be shocked when they enter the real world. Did I mention that Peter Kindfield has a Ph.D. in math and science from Berkeley? Yeah, he didn’t either.

In the Farm school talking with the Principal and Janitor, Peter Kindfield.

In the Farm school talking with the Principal and Janitor, Peter Kindfield.

However, my favorite part of the day was meeting some of the famous Farm Midwives that I’ve seen in movies. We actually had dinner with two of them, Joanne Santana and Carol Nelson, who were featured in a new documentary about Ina May Gaskin and the Farm Midwives called Birth Story. Also our host, Doug, is married to another star midwife, Debra Flowers. We were seriously star stuck when we met them, but tried to play it cool.

After a full day of activities we were pooped and turned in early. Sunday was spent being a groupie with Debra and begging her for birth war stories. The afternoon plan was to attend a community drum circle, which sounded like their version of church. However, we had all the crunchy we could take and headed back to Nashville for a burger and beer.

Detroiters at the Farm. I wonder if that's a first.

Detroiters at the Farm. I wonder if that’s a first.

Since I know you’re intrigued, here are a few more fun facts and resources:

  • The Farm isn’t a commune anymore. Back in the day, if you wanted to join, you had to drop your processions at the entry. In 1983 the community voted to become a cooperative. Therefore, community members now pay dues, an entry fee and own the land collectively.
  • You can pretty much live the way you want. The only rules are 1) No weapons and 2) You can not raise any animal for slaughter.
  • The Farm currently has a little over 100 residents.
  • If you want one of the Farm Midwives to deliver your baby and are not local, you can rent one of the “birthing cabins” on the property. Details on that are here.
  • The Farm isn’t just midwifery. They have many other businesses and charitable organizations.

The Farm website: http://www.thefarm.org/
The Farm school website: http://www.thefarmschool.tv/
The Business of Being Born community website: http://www.mybestbirth.com/
The trailer to The Business of Being Bornhttp://youtu.be/4DgLf8hHMgo