Cuba

This trip was marked by plans getting changed and the unexpected taking charge. It started when 3-4 days after I booked the (direct) flight, the travel agent phoned to tell me that the flight had been changed and now left at 6AM and went through Calgary. I wasn't happy. I spent a good couple of days bitching at everybody but they wouldn't budge from their claim that it was a "schedule change" and full in their right to do it. My point was that subbing a early one-stop flight in for a later direct flight is not a "schedule change" and I served up this example:

I go to my grocery store and order a turkey for Thanksgiving 1 week ahead of time. The grocer tells me that he has a nice shipment of organic turkeys coming in early the next week and if I pay him now, I'll be assured of getting one. I do so and look forward to my turkey showing up the next week. But, when I show up to pick up my turkey, it's not organic. It's a butterball. And the grocer has a giant sign saying "Special! Butterball Turkey's! 1/4 price!" But because I paid him for my organic turkey the week before he's insisting that I take my butterball and be happy. I mean...I still have a turkey, right?

For some reason, they didn't respond to this. So, the Monday travel day was a long one.

Have you ever flown a charter flight to a resort destination airport? It's very interesting. Not to sound snobby or anything, but it's like the lowest common denominator of airport visitors all hopped on one plane and are now heading for the same place. It seemed like everybody left their manners at home and the looming warm weather had people barging about, talking loudly while showing off their un-sexy bits and gaudy beach wear. We were pretty happy that we would be immediately escaping to Havana.

Arrival in Cuba was pretty simple. The Varadero airport is quite small, so customs usually only has to deal with one plane at a time. There was a bit of a line-up to get through passport control, then they scan your bags (more thoroughly then they do for security purposes on the flight back home) and you're on your way. We found our bags, changed some money and after an hour or so wait for the bus we were travelling in air-conditioned comfort to Havana. Well, if comfort includes some greasy-haired Cubanite making out with his girlfriend with his chair reclined so far back towards yours that you can't get your knees in straight under your seat.

The bus dropped us off in the humid splendor of Havana. We grabbed a cab and eventually found the Casa Particulares where we'd booked a room. The guy on the other end of the e-mail machine had assured us that our hosts were excited to have us and would be eagerly awaiting our arrival. We were a bit surprised that they seemed to have no idea that we were coming or about who we were. Then we were more surprised when we sat in their kitchen for half-an-hour or so while they phoned around trying to find us a room.

They explained to us in a mix of Spanish and English that they were a cooperative and would do their best to find us exactly what we were looking for. All the pictures that we looked at and requests for specific places seemed to have no bearing. It was all very confusing. We were told that we had a place for the night and somebody would show us a few others in the morning. Some fat dude finally showed up and we trudged after him to his place a few blocks away.

The place was less than impressive. Andrea was mostly hung-up on the mold and the Britney Spears poster. I was mostly hung-up on the lack of a seat on the toilet. Fernando (the fat guy) assured us that all of this was actually okay when we raised our concerns. Somehow this didn't help. The bed felt like a hunk of plywood and had a mattress made from a few blankets on top. Regardless, I slept long and well. We woke up in the morning, dodged some guilt trips and got the hell out of there.

It was pretty early in the morning yet it was still hot. We hadn't eaten anything significant in a long period of time. We had not much of an idea as to where we would stay. And our first view of Havana woke us up to the realities of Cuba. There's shit everywhere. From dogs, I assume. There's dogs all over the place. All the cats look half dead and have deformities. Many of the places look like they should be condemned. There's lots of construction going on, but it looks more like a Gaudi project that will take another hundred years to complete. Everything is old. Nothing is easy.

We walked deep into the heart of Old Havana and started knocking on doors of Casa Particulares recommended by the various guide books. The Time Out Havana seemed to be our best bet. Many of them were closed. Some of the addresses no longer existed (even though the book was only a year or two old) . We finally found one that was both open and still there. It was a lovely place with boatloads of kitsch. They didn't have any space and we got a bit nervous when they hit the phones to find us one.

And that's kind of the spirit of Cuba. You'll seldom find what you're looking for, but you'll always find somebody willing to help you out. Every cab driver was honest (to us) and eager to help out. Restaurant owners would help you find out information about sights and baseball games. Nothing is very official but everybody will help you work the system.

A Casa was finally found and the owners daughter showed up. We figured we may as well see it out. We followed her a few blocks and the place was pretty nice. Private bathroom. Close to everything. Immaculately clean. Great balcony. We figured we couldn't do much better for 25 CUC's a night (maybe....35 bucks?). We were happy to have found it and it was very comfortable. The toilet had a seat and we learned to live with the lack of hot water (which seems pretty common for the average Cuban). A group of students showed up a few hours after we did and between them and the Casa owner, we were able to find out a lot of information. I'd highly recommend this form of accomodation in Havana. It's cheap and will put you in touch with a small piece of real Cuban life. It's loud as hell. The roosters start crowing at 5 in the morning and never seem to start. Kids are yelling by 6 and trucks are banging around by 7.

The food equivalent of the Casa Particulares is the Paladares. You either eat at a state-owned restaurant (some good, some bad) or you eat at one of these things. It's basically a small restaurant governed by several rules (can only seat 12-14 people at a time, all employees have to be family members). We ate at a couple of these, but some of them proved difficult to find or, like with the Casa Particulares, seemed to have just disappeared off the face of the map. We ended up mostly eating at restaurants.

In general, the food in Havana is a bit of an event. You can never be certain of what you will get and paying more doesn't necessarily mean you'll get better food. All in all, I think I ate better in Havana than I did in Costa Rica. We read countless warnings about how bad the food would be, but with careful restaurant selection (pay attention to what the guide books say) you should be alright. We found some great places with helpful staff, and I only felt like my stomach would explode and come flying out my ass for a day or two.

A while back, I read this Vanity Fair article about baseball in Cuba (also, check out this Slate article about Cuba as well). I was intrigued and really wanted to get out to a game. This baseball game ended up being Cuba in a nutshell. Maybe it was the playoffs? Maybe it wasn't? Maybe there was a game? Nobody really knew and the paper might say something, but it might not. I got the students to ask the owner of the Casa about the game and she promised to ask her son. Then, the next day, we ran into some American teachers that were living in Honduras and they said that there was for sure a game and that we needed to be there by 8:30 to buy tickets for the game at 9:00. Then, when we got back to the Casa, the owner said that there wasn't a game as the Industriales (the best of the two city teams) were out of town. So we went for dinner and the owner seemed very helpful so I asked him. He found a paper and told us that the Metropolitanes were playing and that the game started at 8:00. So we went.

Once we arrived at the game we walked up to the ticket window but they wouldn't sell us tickets. Instead, they sent us around the Stadium to the "special" window for tourists. We got there and nobody would talk to us. We finally banged on the window and they said "Si. Si. Tickets are coming." Then a series of people kept showing up and saying the same thing. Eventually, a lady showed up and we bought our tickets for 3 CUC's. There was a British couple there as well so we went into the stadium with them.

The Stadium (the Estadio LatinoAmericano) is massive (supposedly holds 55,000, but I can't see that) and a little bit dated. There were hardly any amenities and hardly any people. We had to search around for our seats, but eventually found the (rather large) tourist pen located right behind home plate, on the first base side. Honestly. We had a railing around our seats. An usher opened the gate for us. We had a policeman watching over us the whole time (I think for our safety and comfort). There were probably a few hundred seats in the pen....and 8 of us in it. Crazy.

We watched them warm up for a while and the coffee guy kept pestering us to buy coffee. We asked him if we could buy beer and he looked a bit suspicious and then disappeared. Finally, the anthem fired up and the game started. The one thing I noticed is that the batting averages are insanely high. It seems like every player is in the .300's. Maybe all the good pitchers have made the swim?

The game itself was fairly exciting. It ended up being a high scoring affair (14 runs total in the 5 innings that we watched) and everybody gets quite into it. In the end, it was a small crowd (maybe a couple thousand? It was hard to judge) but they were very excitable. The Santiago de Cuba fans seemed more numerous than the Havana fans and any questionable call was greeted by jeers of staggering proportions. The players themselves were quick to point out a call they didn't like. And a foul ball resulted in dozens of children running after it, diving over rickety seats in an effort to track it down. Then they'd come over and try to sell it to us.

The coffee guy eventually showed up with a bag of beers and sold it to the Brits for 10 CUC's (it maybe cost him 4). By that point we'd figured out that you couldn't drink beer in the stadium. I was going to crack one but the Brit's wouldn't follow suit (even though it was their idea) so I ended up drinking them in the cab ride home. The coffee guy also offered to get us t-shirts, balls, whatever we wanted. It was very strange but I'm glad we did it.

The days were mostly filled with sites, touristy and not-so-touristy. We wandered squares and checked out the various museums (many of which seem to inhabit old palaces and government buildings that symbolized pre-revolutionary Cuba). The highlights:

The Capitolio - It's a very beautiful building modeled on the Washington Capital building. For a couple of bucks you can get in and tour around to your hearts content. You get to see where the Parliament used to sit (when they had one). Very interesting and worth the visit.
The Museum of the Revolution - This is in the old presidential palace. The displays are elaborate and full of propaganda. My favourite is this quote:

Moncada and Carlos M. De Cespedes garrisons were attacked at 5:20 in the midnight of July 26, 1953 by one hunder and sixty five youngers of the centarian generation. Unforseen causes frustrated the success of the actions. However, they showed to the people that there were forces capable to start the army fight getting the national liberation.

I mean...this was the event that inspired the future name of their movement (creatively called the 26th of July Movement). "Unforseen circumstances"? They got their asses kicked.
The centerpiece of the museum is the Granma yacht display. They describe it as a "leaky boat". I mean, it's got to be at least 60 feet long. It looks beautiful. You can't really take a picture of it as it's behind glass, but it seems far from a leaky boat.

Havana Club Rum Museum - Don't take a tour. Do go to the bar at night and have some drinks. The night we hit it, it was bumpin' and the drinks were great.

Plaza Vieja - This square will make you feel like you're in Europe. It's beautiful. There's a microbrewery owned by an Austrian company in one corner. The beer isn't very good but you can buy a hamburger for 3 bucks. I didn't have one but they looked good.
In total, we spent about 3-1/2 days in Havana. We had a brilliant plan to take the Hershey train to Matanzas and then catch a cab to Veradero. The train was built long ago to take workers from Havana to the various Hershey sugar plantations out in the country. The train runs 3-4 times a day and takes about 3-1/2 hours to go from Havana to Matanzas (about a 1 hour drive or 2 hour bus ride). We started reading about it and it sounded a bit sketchy, even by Cuban standards. Schedules seemed to be very up in the air and many people had never even heard of it. That, coupled with my explosive stomach problems convinced me that we should just stick to the bus or take a cab. I'm still a bit sad about missing it.
Before going to Havana, we hadn't been all that excited about the prospect of resort Cuba. I've been to an all-inclusive once before (a wedding in Mexico) and it was deathly boring. I couldn't spend more than a few hours at the resort before wanting to go someplace else. The food was mediocre and it was full of drunks. Although, you couldn't get drunk as all the booze was watered down. However, after a few days of stomach issues, cold water showers and hunting for edible food, I was ready for the resort. I was even, dare I say, looking forward to it.

As we rolled into Varadero, it was pretty obvious that this was a different world, far, far removed from the "real" Cuba. Things were in much better shape. Tourists were everywhere. Even the run-down cars were a class above. But it was all very ugly. Varadero is more-or-less just a big, long Peninsula. The nicest resorts are at the far end and the whole thing is just resort after resort. Luckily, most of them are of the low-rise variety. But it feels a bit like you could be in any resort town anywhere else in the world.

It changed a bit once we checked in. I searched long and hard to find a good deal on a decent place. Prices are all over the map. You can get a cheap one for about 100 bucks a night (all-inclusive for two people) but Trip Advisor makes them sound pretty sketchy. We finally just decided to go with the resort where the wedding was taking place. It was one of the pricier ones near the end of the peninsula. We checked in and some dude drove us to our room in a golf cart. The room was beautiful and had a large bathroom with hot water, a toilet seat and a separate shower and bath. It had the most powerful air conditioner in the world and you could have stored sides of beef in our room. We threw on our suits and headed for the beach.
On the way to the beach, we came across a barbecue. There was a monster slab of beef on the grill that looked fantastic. Another guy had dozens and dozens of lobsters that he was chopping in half and throwing on the BBQ. I couldn't believe my eyes.

Then we got to the beach and it was like it was out of a brochure. The sand was immaculate. The water was turquoise, clear as glass and warm as a bath. It was crazy. The next few days, we threw all our plans of doing anything out of the window and sat on the beach reading and swimming. I was sad to leave. But...I have literally nothing else to say about it.
So, I think Varadero is probably all that most visitors to Cuba will ever see. That's unfortunate. It's beautiful and a good place to unwind, but you may as well just sit on a beach someplace closer to home. Many people take a day trip into Havana, but I don't think you can get an accurate feel of a city with a 4 hour visit. When you spend a bit of time in the city it's difficult to understand the US policy towards Cuba. Part of the reason I wanted to go on this trip was that I wanted to see Cuba before it underwent drastic changes due to US policy. I'd heard about the old cars and how crazy and backwards everything is. This is true, but it's not exactly a happy thing to see. It reminds me a bit of Hungary, or at least Hungary in the 90's. There's something special about a country in the midst of (or freshly out of) a communist government. There's no real way to fathom the complete lack of...initiative is the wrong word. It's more just a coping mechanism where it makes sense to have 14 people doing a job that a couple could do. It's sad to see people with not much food, money or prospects through no fault of their own. Yet, it's enlightening to see how happy they can be and how friendly they are towards jack-ass tourists gawking at their misfortune.

I'm awesome.

Ha. I wrote this in April, 2008. You remember April, right? When everybody thought things would be fine? What did I say?

What I find interesting is how everybody insists this will have no effect on Canada and our housing values. Okay. I understand. We don't have a sub-prime mess like the US does. But...how the hell can our housing prices continue to go up and up and up when just across the border things are in the tank? Doesn't is seem like a bit of a sign as to how ludicrous things are right now that you can drive a few hours to a major city (Portland, Seattle) and pick up a house for a fraction of what it would cost here in Vancouver? We're a separate market, yes, but not that separate. I don't see how this can't affect us.

And I was right. Shit was still going up in April.

Update - Dec 8, 2009 - Okay. Maybe I'm not so awesome after all.

The Cougar.

I just read this article by John Mellencamp on the Huffington Post. It's very interesting. He doesn't seem to be arguing for one side or another. He doesn't really blame anybody. He doesn't really talk about solutions. I just thought it was a very sad recollection of the way things were and the way things shouldn't be. It almost sounds like he's throwing in the towel.

I think he nails it though. Top down. I like that. It really is a good description of what is wrong with "the music industry" these days. The only thing that I think he misses is that the Internet is a way to regrasp the concept of "bottom up". It's probably going to kill the way things were, but for the bands starting out this way, I think it's nothing but good news. I think. Maybe?

And my major point - you can't have it both ways. You either have a major channel where everybody makes money every time anybody hears a piece of music ever, or you have a free channel where small bands have as much of a chance for exposure as the large bands. If you take away that free channel you take away the exposure. I know, I know. "None of the artists choose to be in that free channel." Very true. But if give them the choice...that free channel isn't going to be there for long. So what's the solution then? Give your music away until people want it and then start charging for it? I don't think that would go over very well.

Indiana Jones and the Adventure of the Thought Process

I found this via boingboing. First up, I haven't read it all yet, but here is a transcript of 5 days (or so) of meetings between George Lucas, Steven Spielberg and some other dude discussing their plans for Indiana Jones back in the 70's.

More interesting is this analysis of the whole thing. Buddy read it and created a set of observations and rules based on how they broke down the story. Very interesting. I might have to further check out his site.

John C. Odom

This reminds me a bit of Barry Tabobondung, however it's quite a bit more depressing. At least Barry went out like a superhero. John C. Odom was the guy that was traded last year for a bundle of bats. Sounds like it started out alright but the dude pretty rapidly degraded. A few months later...dead from an overdose. I'd imagine the guy that put together the trade feels pretty good about things right now.

Two good. One decent. One mediocre. One terrible. Utah, 2009.

Well, it seems fitting that I'd take a trip to the land of snow and hit it the one week that it doesn't snow. And...when I get there, it starts dumping at home. But, as Matt said, "We made the right decision. It just didn't work out."

I arrived in Utah via Portland on Sunday night. Let me tell you, the Portland airport is amazing. Several microbrews have little pubs set up. Powell's has an outlet there. And there's a Wendy's. Free wireless. I was sad I only had an hour there. Everything closes rather early though.

Once I got to Utah, the trip to the hotel was pretty easy (it's close and most hotels have a free shuttle) and then I experienced my first glimmers of Salt Lake life by walking and trying to find a place to eat.

Lesson #1 - The only people that walk anywhere are homeless people. Nobody has any concept of distances.

The guy at the ski shop gave me terrible advice on where I should go for dinner. His "15 minute walk" turned into 45. I ended up not finding anything and I ate at a terrible, terrible noodle place.

Lesson #2 - Blocks in Salt Lake City are massive. The lights take forever. This is a strange combination.

You can find yourself standing on a corner for what feels like 10 minutes. Then it's a giant hike to the next light. And the only person you'll pass asks you for change. They're very friendly about it, though.

Right near our home, taking up an entire city block, was Little America. I have no idea why, but this place fascinated me. It was just so big...and so strange looking. I'm going to stay there next time.

I made my way back home, met up with Matt and Peter and we set about planning our next day. We decided on Solitude as we were expecting snow in the next few days and it seemed like a good time to hit the mountain known for having pockets of snow long, long after a storm.

Lesson #3 - The bus system in Salt Lake City is fantastic.

We caught our 7:45 bus and that dropped us off at the park-and-ride 45 minutes later. We thought that was great. The bus to Solitude was waiting for us and 25 minutes later we were at the base of the hill. We couldn't believe how smoothly it went.

Solitude is a pretty fun little hill. I think it has been pretty small and old-school until recently, and they just put some new high speed quads in this year. Most of the good skiing is off the back and we found some really good snow that required a 10 minute traverse. We were pretty excited about this as it hadn't snowed in days. We lapped this a few times and decided to catch the bus back home at 2:30. See "lesson #3". There was only two buses available back to the hotel from the park and ride and we either had to leave the mountain at 2:30, or wait and arrive back home at 6:30.

I had been reading up on Wikitravel about places to eat. A brew-pub called the Red Rock came highly recommended. Liars. The beer wasn't that great and my pasta came out luke warm. I sent it back and it came back a bit hotter and with a lot more cheese. I felt cheated. We then walked around looking for excitement.

Lesson #4 - Salt Lake City isn't very exciting.

We were up bright and early the next day to catch our bus to Snowbird.

Lesson #5 - The bus system in Salt Lake City isn't that great.

The bus to the park-and-ride was packed. It smelled really funny and it took forever. We hopped on the bus to Snowbird and it was jammed. We sat in the parking lot for a long, long time. These sketchy looking tweaker kids kept doing stupid things and people were getting angry. It was pretty easy to convince everybody that heading down a bit early and renting a car was a good idea.

Before that though, we had a great day on Snowbird. Snowbird is a fairly perfect ski hill. Lots of terrain. Lots of lifts. Lots of snow. Not too yuppieized but you aren't cruising the hill with backwoods inbreds either. We found a nice little face in the back of the mountain with lots of snow blown in and did lap after lap in the sun (well...it's the spot in the picture below just in the shade). It was a great day.
Once we got home, we rented our car (30 bucks a day!), ate some mexican food and drove around. This was our first opportunity to see what large expanses of boredom Salt Lake City has to offer. Honestly, there's just not much going on. The streets are huge, wide and mostly empty. Nobody walks anywhere. All the banks have a drive through. They have a neat sort of mall that is all outdoors....they have the Mormon temple surrounded by a Mormon Convention Center and a giant Mormon Office Tower...The only really neat thing about the Temple is that the giant gold statue on the top is unbelievably clean. It sparkles. I figure they must keep it electrified to zap any birds that land on it.
The highlight of our drive came in our visit to the Capitol Building.Lesson #6 - Mormon friendliness trumps American paranoia.

The Capitol Building is quite a nice building. It looks like every other capitol building ever built anywhere in America, but it sits nicely on a hill and is well lit. We drove up, parked in an empty row of parking stalls and walked up to the front stoop. I figured we wouldn't even be allowed to do this, but there was nobody around so we checked out the steps and the view. Then, for a laugh, I decided to try the front door. It opened, and for another laugh, we walked into the front doorway. For an even bigger laugh, we walked right into the building and preceded to just kind of walk around inside the empty Capitol Building all by ourselves. A few other people ocassionally drifted through, but nobody asked any questions or seemed to care that we were there. It was unexpected and a pretty neat thing to see.
After that, we had some drinks at Squatters (after dropping off the car), a much more decent brewpub that I would highly recommend. Their Nitro ale is superb and the people are very friendly. I think I mentioned something about Sara Palin and her upcoming documentary and everybody started railing on the Republicans, so it seems to be a bit of a left-leaning oasis. However, our bartender was farting up a storm, so don't take a date there that you're trying to impress. It's tough to pin those sorts of things on other people.

Another reason we got the car was that it gave us an opportunity to check out Park City. Wednesday was supposed to be the last snowless day before the snow started dumping...okay...small aside...every day was supposed to be the last day before the snow started dumping...but Wednesday was really supposed to be the last day before the snow started dumping. We decided to go to Park City.

Of course, as soon as we left the parking lot, we realized we'd forgotten to buy the cheap Park City tickets offered by the ski shop just down the street. Rather than turning around, we decided to forge onwards to one of the other hundreds of ski shops in the city. We got there and they of course didn't have cheap tickets. So we drove to Park City, knowing that we'd find another shop offering cheap tickets as they all seemed to.

The drive to Park City wasn't very exciting and it seemed really weird when we got there. Imagine the Okanagan valley with ski hills right down to the valley. It wasn't very pretty and it seemed like a sprawl of rich people houses and condos. I wouldn't want to spend my time there. Right around this time I figured out that I'd forgotten my ski socks, so as we pulled into one of the Park City ski shops looking for non-existent cheap tickets I was forced to pay for a new pair of socks on top of my full price, US 84-dollar ticket. Cheap day.

Park City itself has three resorts, all right there. Deer Valley (for the super yuppies...they have people that come out and unload your gear for you), Park City (for the family yuppies) and The Canyons (for the people that think they're really great skiers but still think it's a good idea to hang out in Park City). We opted for Park City, as it seemed really big and we'd heard good things.

Our day at Park City probably would hit my top-20 for worst days on snow, ever. The snow was terrible, but that's excusable. The mountain is huge, but nothing lines up very well. Nothing steeper than a really tame blue run was groomed. They seem to put most of their effort into their terrain park and their race team. It's super flat and impossible to get anywhere. And it's beyond expensive. It was a terrible day and a terrible place.

Lesson #7 - Park City sucks.

We skied all day and left for Salt Lake City knowing that we would probably never, ever go back there. Everybody seemed a little bit crabbier and on edge than usual. It wasn't a happy time.

We decided on Monday that we would go the Utah Utes basketball game. We found a pizza joint that sounded pretty good (the only complaints came from people complaining about too much cheese) so we decided to go there. It was a total schmozzle but eventually we found ourselves sitting in our 7 dollar seats with a belly full of cheese-bomb pizza. I got a nice jog out of the deal too, running to buy tickets while Matt and Peter stood in line for Pizza.

The game itself was interesting. The arena was about 1/2 full and they said attendance was at around 12,000 people. The crowd was a total mix - college kids, families and rednecks - and seemed pretty similar to what would show up for your average CHL hockey game. However, team spirit was off the charts. Everybody wore red. Everybody knew the songs. Everybody knew the cheers. We definitely didn't fit in. The basketball itself was mediocre. I took to calling it the Brickhands vs. the Woodenfeet. I think there was a total of 25 points scored in the first 20 minutes of basketball.

The highlight came during the half-time show. Jean's Golden Girls. Imagine 50 or so garishly clad geriatric cowgirls, gyrating their hips and dancing away. The leader, Jean, was a 93-year-old woman. Once the main presentation was done, she did her own little dance which climaxed with her leaping into the splits. You can see a version of it here, but it doesn't really do it justice.

We awoke the next day with dreams of snow. They were dashed yet again. We headed for Alta and had a decent day. Alta is right next door to Snowbird. It doesn't have quite the terrain, but it's pretty close. They don't allow snowboarders though, which is interesting and might lead to the snow sticking around a bit longer. We found some decent stuff and we also found a treacherous, icy mogul-field that had us running for the lodge. We realized why nobody was skiing it and that sometimes the path not taken is not taken for a reason.

Lesson #8 - Sometimes locals do know their way around their own mountain.

We were a bit stumped about dinner that night. We had heard tales of "classic" Utah dining involving serious portions of food and bottomless plates of mashed potatoes. We couldn't find anything that seemed all that appealing, so we decided on more Mexican. We headed to the Blue Iguana.

Lesson #9 - In Salt Lake City, most of the good restaurants are underground.

We sat down and within 30 seconds had a large plate of fresh tortilla chips and a giant bowl of Salsa to go with it. Before we were 3/4's done, another one appeared. The menu was huge and I had no idea what to order. Everything sounded quite good. However, a regular burrito was 11 dollars. The "Grande" burrito was 13. And if you finished it, you got free dessert. I mean, how big could it be if it's only 2 dollars more?

Lesson #10 - Never accept a challenge from a restaurant that involves free food. You will lose. Restaurants are not in the business of giving away free food.

The burrito finally came out and it was shocking. The dude sitting next to us let out a gasp. Even the frat boys across the room stopped what they were doing and took note. It was immense. The waiter proudly proclaimed that it weighed 3 pounds. It was two burritoes, really. One beef and one chicken, wrapped up with another tortilla to make an abomination. I knew I couldn't possibly eat it. I spread the guacamole and sour cream and lettuce on one half of it and gave myself the goal of walking out with only the other half remaining.

It was a damn good burrito and I ate my half. I just couldn't take it any further. I actually probably ate more the night before with the pizza, but I reached a point where I just couldn't will myself to put more burrito in my mouth. I wasn't full to bursting, I just didn't want any more burrito. The waiter said he didn't think I'd even make it that far and was mildy impressed. Then he told us about the guy who challenged them to pay for his burritoes if he ate two of the Grande's. They agreed and he was able to do it. He ate 6 pounds of burrito in one sitting. Only in America.

Our final day of skiing was Snowbird. It started out terribly. It was so cold. The dump we were expecting never materialized (they got 3-4 inches). And the wind made it so that most of the good lifts were closed. We spent the first few hours of the morning hunting for something to ski. It was grim.
Finally though, it turned around. We got to the top of the lift just as they were opening up the tunnel to the backside. The tunnel itself was a bit of a highlight. The thing is 600 feet long and goes about 300 feet below the peak of the mountain and has a magic carpet that takes you slowly along it's length. It's kind of cool, but why didn't they just take the lift (built at the same time) to the top of the mountain?
Lesson #11 - Only in America would a mountain spend millions on a tunnel at a ski resort. In Canada, we'd spend it on linking up two mountains that can't possibly be skied all in one day.

We popped out into Mineral Basin (where we'd had our good skiing 3 days earlier) and it was sunny, warm and the wind had blown the snow about quite nicely. We lapped and lapped and lapped our little line that we'd discovered and we were the only people skiing it. It had started out a terrible day, yet somehow we found ourselves skiing lap-after-lap of boot-top pow in the sun. We skied until the line was done, then we went and grabbed a bit to eat. It was pretty much the end of the day for us though, other than a few time-killer runs.
Our final meal together was planned for a few days. Carl's Junior. We'd all been really curious and there was one near the hotel. It was a pretty barren environment but quite full of people. Cops. Thugs. You name it. We were all fairly happy with our burgers and we left with the odd sensation that the smallest meal we had eaten in days came at the fast food joint that prides itself on it's large, un-healthy hamburgers. We headed back to Squatters and drank Utah out in style.

Peter and Matt left early the next morning. I wandered around Salt Lake for a couple of hours but didn't find a single thing to do. Really. It was weird. I mean, I walked through the heart of downtown at 11AM on a Saturday and there was barely anybody. It felt like the timing was right to get the hell out of there.

My flights home were pretty uneventful and I lucked into seats to myself on both legs. The Seattle airport is massive, by the way, but seems like a decent place to spend some time.

All-in-all, it was a good trip. The price was right. The flights were easy. Everything was more than simple once we got to Salt Lake City. We didn't luck into any snow, but if you happened to be there for a foot or two of snow (which isn't all that unlikely), you'd have some pretty good skiing for quite a few days. I don't think you can say the same of Whistler.

Air Canada?

I just had the most unreal Air Canada experience. I avoid Air Canada as much as I possibly can, but I booked my trip to Utah with a couple of Air Canada legs. It was unavoidable. I booked through Expedia as it was such a good package deal that nobody else could get and it's AC to Portlan, Alaska to Salt Lake City (operated by Delta) and then Salt Lake City to Seattle on Delta (operated by Skywest) and AC home. Yikes.

So I phoned Expedia and they suggested I phone Delta. I phoned Delta and they said skis are no problem but I might have to pay for it as an extra bag, but I should talk to Air Canada as I hit them first.

I looked on the Air Canada website and it said there would be no extra charges as long as you pre-register your skis. So I phoned and expected the worst. I got Craig in Winnipeg.

So Craig started pre-registering my skis. He told me that I'm allowed two bags and since I've pre-registered there will be no extra charges, either going there or on the way home. I asked him if it would be possible to check them all the way through to Salt Lake City. He thought it was possible, but asked if I could hold for a few minutes so that he could check it out. That's when things got crazy.

I was on hold for about 10 minutes and Craig came back. He apologized and then:

"I phoned Alaska airlines and they said that as long as we aren't charging you for your skis, they'll check all your baggage through with no problems. You're fine on the way home with us as well, but I was worried that Delta might try to charge you on the way back home. So I phoned them and asked them if it would be possible for you to do this. The lady said that if we were going to let your stuff on the plane without charges, they probably would too. I made both Delta and Alaska put a note on your file that you have skis so at least they were aware of them."

Huh? I told him that I had problems with Air Canada in the past and that he had been a serious breathe of fresh air. I asked him if there was any way I could pass on a job-well-done to his supervisor and he told me he appreciated it but it wasn't necessary. He said that he liked to treat people the way he wishes he was treated.

I then went to the Air Canada website to see if there was any way I could pass this along, but all there was was the same phone number that I had phoned. No way to even tell them they had done a good job. Which is really the root of their problem, you know?

PS - I forgot. When I was hanging up he asked if anybody was traveling with me. He was going to make the same arrangements for them.