The Saga Begins

The way to Toronto

Well, it's amazing . . . I'm actually here, in my wired world, sitting at a place called Bacardi Rumbar in the E terminal at Pearson airport. What an unfortunate name for a place to be -- because I'm drinking a Perrier and orange juice that the great waitress made for me. I ordered a quesadilla -- it's the smallest thing they have.

Poor Brigitte. I left her in bed, obviously miserable as hell -- and hopped a cab on a beautiful, cloudless morning. I checked in as Elite even though I haven't been for many years, but I look sharp and they couldn't have given a shit. I actually know someone who's a ticket agent at AC and has been for decades, so they knew her. I name-drop, they like me, they fulfill all special requests. In this case it was just a modest "Could I get an exit row?" (emergency exit -- a bit of extra legroom).

I may well get one on the upcoming 14-hour ordeal to Shanghai. I'm also praying that they'll have plugs in the seats -- that way I can play chess to my heart's content. I'm plugged in here, at this restaurant. It's completely dead in this terminal.

Great: free wi-fi, a plug, my camera, a cable -- I'm totally equipped (and sober enough) to totally document every step of this trip. I even bought a fuzzy travel pillow and have a couple of sleeping pills in my top pocket so I think I'll be able to sleep away a lot of the next leg.

Somewhere over Missassauga

But so far, so great. I bought a carry-mug to take my orange drink on board with me -- a horrible maple-leaf tourist horror -- but it's better than nothing. I was unable to check my small bag, which is quite heavy, so I'm rolling it around with my carry on Pan Am bag which holds my computer and video and still camera.

Anyway, so far, so great! I just feel really badly for Brigitte, whose day is probably unfolding into a nightmare. Anyone who can call her, please do so and give her moral support.

I shall now go and email various people. You'll hear from me next perhaps at Shanghai, if I have time and a wi-fi connection.

Time for another drink. I think I'll have a double.

THE NEXT DAY

At the Bacardi RumzBar in Toronto

What a saga!! What an expedition, what a journey. And it all ends up here. 6,000 miles from Brigitte and Lulu and people who speak English, and believe it or not, I'm sitting in a beautiful wood-paneled café with an upscale Parisian air, sipping one of the best lattes I've ever had and listening to some mellow samba music while getting 100% wi-fi Internet. 

Folks, you're going to be getting your daily reports from here, not some dingy hotel room! 

I swear, I feel like i'm in Berkeley, California . . . if it weren't for the lilting Japanese voices all around me, I might be. 

Talk about walking through the portals of Hell to find Paradise. 

The art of taking your own picture

Well, let's go back, wayyyy back . . . to Toronto. There were no problems there at all. I happily boarded a Boeing 777, which looks like a wide-bodied 767. I was lucky enough to get the emergency exit row, window. No seats in front of me. I had a charming middle-aged Chinese lady in the middle as a seatmate, and we babbled away a little bit, but she let me be. I had bought one of those neck pillows at the airport, so I ate lunch -- some hideous chicken crap -- popped one and a half diphenhydramine hydrochlorides (better known as allergy pills, better known as Unisom) and was out like the proverbial light. I NEVER sleep on airplanes, but my seatmate said I didn't move for at least 4 hours.

At 38,000 feet over Russia

God, there is something to be said for not drinking . . . 

A 14+-hour flight is one hell of a long one. Normally when I go to Japan it takes about 11 hours, max, and at the end of THAT I'm dead. But it went pretty damn quickly. 

Then: Shanghai. I was led to believe that I would just hop from one gate to another, but nooooo.

 They made me go through Immigration, made me fill in my intended length of stay, address where I would be staying . . . honestly, is there a sane person LEFT on Earth? 

It was infernally hot inside the terminal. I had to go through security, the whole deal. (They have a rolled stick of cinnamon to stir your coffee . . . what a touch!!) Finally I made it to the upper levels and a "café". China is still an emerging "democracy," let me tell you. No manners. Keep you waiting. Couldn't give a damn whether you lived or died. Had what they called mineral water and settled down for the last leg. 

My Osaka flight, once I got on board, was delayed an hour. Japan immigration was the same-old, same-old. I was in my hotel room by midnight. Mediocre. I read my Kindle and died like a snuffed-out candle, no sleeping pills.  

Up at 7:30, took a bath, was in the limo to the airport. Bought a ticket for the Nara limo and bought a fan -- best idea I've had in a while (GOD this coffee is good!!) 

Took the limo to the Nara bus station, found my hotel, and was told I can't check in till 2 (it's 12 now). Outside is hellishly hot -- maybe 32 but with a 40° Humidex. Typical. Overcast etc. In the following days I'll take photos as I stroll around town. 

Taken by a stew: on the way to Shanghai

I called Taishi and his mother *gasp* is going to bring him to the hotel after her work. Well, well, well. I thought for sure she'd avoid the hell out of me, but apparently not. 

You wouldn't believe it, but I'm having the greatest time . . . all without a drop. It has been far from the nightmare I anticipated. 

I got a forlorn email from Brigitte . . . she can hardly type. She's obviously completely screwed. Damn, it couldn't be worse timing. Maybe if you guys could shoot her an email . . . brigitte.amor@videotron.ca. Buck her up a bit. 

I might start a new blog expressly for this trip, as my family obviously want to see all the pics etc. and currently I have to send them in an email. So maybe I'll go set that up right now (this is it!) I'll email you the new address. Meanwhile . . . so far, so great!!