Hello all.
I have gone to, and returned safely from, Canada. Nova Scotia, to be precise, where I spent eight days.
I wanted to get that out of the way now so that people reading this could settle a bit.
As I've mentioned here numerous times over the past year or two, Daisy's cousin is getting married (at this juncture it's already happened twice, with two different ceremonies and a third, celebratory gathering coming up this weekend). Daisy and I had long planned to attend the third celebratory gathering, and had booked our travel times for August 21 through 31, returning home just in time for Labor Day weekend -- which would have given us several days of recuperation time and some breathing space before we had to return to our respective jobs business-as-usual the following week.
I want to stress this -- the trip was already fully booked and paid for -- hotels covered, rental car covered, flights covered. It had been planned out. I'd gotten a new suitcase and carry-on backpack. I had ordered multiple disposable vapes for the trip because I couldn't take my real ones on the plane(s). I had an entire Canada-centric wardrobe, including colder-weather clothing and extra everything, planned out and mostly packed. I was excited to go on this adventure, which would have been me, Daisy, and Mama -- Dad was staying at home to take care of the houses and cats, and also because they'd just gone to and from Nova Scotia earlier in the summer. I put in the PTO at work, set calendar invites to my team, and made sure all were aware this trip was coming up weeks in advance.
On August 10, Daisy's grandfather died, losing his battle with cancer eleven days before we would have left for our trip to see him and the rest of the family for the wedding celebration.
The parents -- both of them -- flew out the next day.
Daisy and I, after an incredible amount of finagling and rescheduling/rebooking flights and rooms, and replotting the trip, flew out the day after.
This is the story of that trip, of a vacation turned into a trip of necessity, and our (as well as the rest of the family's) attempts to put the "fun" back in "funeral."
***
We knew Daisy's grandfather was bad off. Daisy had booked changeable tickets for our vacation (at some extra cost) to be able to swap flights at a moment's notice. When he first started going in and out of hospital, I let my leadership at work know "hey, this is gonna happen and it's gonna happen probably sooner rather than later, so when it does, I won't be able to give y'all much notice before I'm on the plane." They understood. It also helped that I had the PTO time to cover it all.
I called my boss the night it happened, told him that I'd likely be leaving ASAP and that I'd edit the time off and take care of everything I could before leaving.
It was always understood between me and Daisy, as well as with my workplace, that if he died before our trip, I could make one trip or the other -- I couldn't go for the funeral, come back, and go back for our planned vacation for the family wedding stuff a second time. My (limited) PTO and money was enough for only one shot here. When he left this mortal coil, it was go time.
Within 24 hours of his passing, our bags were packed, the house was prepped for the cats (Daisy's best friend would be stopping by both houses, ours as well as the parents', to take care of the animals and keep an eye on things a few times while we were gone), and we were on our way to Canada by approximately 36 hours afterwards, give or take.
Well, sort of.
Because we had to change the flights, our options had changed for a lot of things, including lodgings and the rental car. It also meant that we were flying from Omaha to Atlanta, Atlanta to LaGuardia (NYC), and LaGuardia to Bangor, Maine -- with some layover time at each of the middle stops. It was a 12+ hour trip of nonstop travel, and that was before we'd even cross the border to make the long drive up to the little town Daisy's mother's family is from.
The flights were fine. Daisy and I were both tired, stressed, and sort of grumpy, but none of the flights were delayed or canceled, and weather was wonderful when we flew out the morning of August 12, after taking an Uber to the airport.
Everywhere we were flying I'd never been to before. I'd never been to Atlanta, and had never traveled to or through Georgia before. Same goes for New York, and New York City in particular. The approach to LaGuardia was breathtaking, as we flew right by the Statue of Liberty, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the new World Trade Center. Even on the plane, the city was enormous and awe-inspiring.
The same goes for Bangor, as well. Yes, I've been to Maine twice before, and have been through a large chunk of the beautiful state. But, I'd never been to Bangor and had never flown into Bangor before. The last time we flew in and out of Maine, it was through Portland.
Bangor was...an experience. It was even more of an experience on the way back, but I'll get to that.
For those of you who don't travel often, and who haven't traveled to or from Bangor, Maine in particular, I recommend it. In fact, I highly recommend the travel plans we took if you ever need to go to the maritime provinces of Canada. Find some way to fly into Bangor and book a room there at the airport Quality Inn for the night to get some rest before beginning your journey. You're an hour or so from the border at Woodstock/Houlton, Bangor is a neat little city, and Bangor International Airport (I still chuckle a bit at calling it that) is tiny and the easiest airport ever to get in and out of. No joke, you can be off your plane, at the baggage claim, and out the door in less than ten minutes. It was a mindblowingly easy experience.
We landed in Bangor around 11pm Friday the 12th, got our giant suitcases from the carousel, and went to pick up our full-size rental car at the Enterprise counter.
They...did not have a full-size car for us. Despite the fact that we reserved one in advance. We needed something with four doors and (ideally) a trunk. SUVs cannot be rented and driven across the border into Canada anymore per their regulations (apparently they're hardcore theft/chop-shop targets), and while I would've loved to have been able to rent one of the numerous Challengers or the odd Camaro I saw sitting around the rental lot, it would not have been exactly practical.
What they had for us was an "upgrade" to a brand new 2022 Nissan Titan V8 monster truck.
It had four doors, yes, and it was indeed permitted to cross the border, so...that's what we were given.
Daisy was not happy. The Titan would cost us double the amount of gas money to take to Canada and back.
"If it's what they have, it's what they have," I told Daisy. "It's not ideal, but I don't necessarily really mind paying the extra gas money if we have to."
We did have the money. It wasn't something I wanted to spend it on, as gas in Canada is sold by the liter (metric system, remember?), but it was what it was.
Daisy, frustrated, got the rental company to give us a $300 credit to accept the truck, which would cover most of, if not all of, the gas for the trip. They also agreed to let her call in the morning before we began our drive to see if any cars -- like the one we had booked -- were available.
I found the entire situation a bit amusing instead of frustrating. This irritated Daisy, who remarked that I get all stressed out and flip out over the small things, but the big things like this I was go-with-the-flow on.
She's right, of course.
Still, it didn't really matter much to me. A truck is simply a vehicle. I owned a truck once, for a few years, as you may recall. It's fine. I don't stress about things I can't change, and especially not things which would only minimally impact our trip. So, we got in, fired it up, and drove it to the hotel.
It wouldn't turn off.
Let me rephrase. The truck's engine and lights would turn off just fine, but the interior dash/speedometer/tachometer lights and infotainment center dash display would not. It kept displaying "no key detected" on the screens and even after locking it and walking away for 10-15 minutes, we could come back (without the keys, mind you) and still find those internal lights on.
At this point it was after midnight, Daisy is frazzled and in tears, and all three of us -- me, Daisy, and the sweet lady running the front desk at the Bangor Quality Inn -- were googling how to fix this on our phones. Apparently, it's a common problem and a known issue. Daisy called the rental company, who told her yes, come back in in the morning, swap it out for safety's sake, and we'd still have the credit -- etc. No harm, no foul.
Without, say, the headlights/taillights on and continually drawing power, the battery wouldn't likely drain enough in the six or so hours we'd be sleeping. I also mentioned to Daisy that there was probably a setting on that we weren't aware of that would keep those systems on longer than usual, and they'd probably turn off on their own in the night once the truck put itself into sleep mode or whatever, after not detecting the key in the nearby vicinity for a while. Giving up, we went inside and checked into our room for a quick night's sleep.
When I woke up in the morning and went out to vape (disposably, of course) and then get some breakfast at the continental breakfast bar, the lights in the truck were all off. When we checked out of the hotel and tested the truck, turning it on and off a few times, everything turned on and off normally.
We still took it back to the rental kiosk, parked it in the lot, and exchanged it for a beautiful, brand new silver 2022 Chevrolet Malibu with less than 2000 miles on the odometer, and we were on our way.
The Malibu was an entirely different driving experience. The car was immaculate and comfortable, smelled like the showroom, got an average of 37 miles per gallon, and had a wonderful heating/cooling system. Daisy and I liked it so much that within two or three hours of driving it we had already begun contemplating an eventual purchase of one to replace Daisy's aging Hyundai -- which, compared to the Malibu, was a dinosaur.
When you travel to Canada these days, you have to plot the trip in advance with a phone app called ArriveCAN. It basically does everything they'd do at the border crossing for you -- you scan your passport with it, you pick the day you're entering the country, at what crossing, and for what reason, scan your vaccination card, and tell them where you're staying while you're there (my guess is so that they can track you and check up on you if there's any suspicious activity happening there), and give an approximate return date. It gives you a QR code via the app and via email for the border officers to scan and verify everything.
The ArriveCAN app must elude some travelers, however, as we waited in line for probably half an hour at the border crossing. Some cars and an entire fleet of motorcycles were through the crossing in about 30 seconds each, while others took five minutes or more.
When we got to the gate, they asked us the standard questions and (I assume) checked the answers to our data via the app database.
"Where are you coming from?" the lady asked us.
"Nebraska."
She looked at us funny, then looked at the car. "Please take off your glasses so I can see your faces. This is a rental car?"
The car had Maine plates. No lady, we stole the car. There's ten kilos of coke in the back and a small Mexican child hidden in the trunk.
"Yes."
"Where are you going?"
Daisy told the lady, who obviously knew maritime geography by the perplexed look on her face, and knew it was something like a ten-hour drive.
"...why?" the border agent asked.
"My grandfather died two days ago," Daisy said, her voice cracking a little.
Her look changed immediately. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Here's your passports. Looks like your ArriveCAN stuff is all good. Welcome to Canada."
And with that, the gate raised and we were across the border into the Great White North.
As an aside, though it's not like she has the documentation (or the passport to prove it on the fly), Daisy is a Canadian citizen. She has dual citizenship, along with her sisters and her sisters' oldest children, who were born before the rules changed and were grandfathered in -- no, ahem, pun intended of course.
***
The drive from the border to the little town where the family is takes about seven hours or so, give or take, not counting stops to pee and refuel at gas stations where this sign is posted on every pump:
I wish I were making that up, as it's possibly the most Canadian thing I've ever seen.
During this drive, I learned a few things:
1. My Discover card -- the card with my highest limit that was freshly paid off a week before the trip down to a zero balance -- is not accepted in most of Atlantic Canada. Gas stations do not take it. Restaurants do not take it. Most retail establishments do not take it and have no idea what it is. Discover does not have a true presence in Canada, despite my personal Discover card having the picture of the Canadian flag on it.
2. You will almost never see a Starbucks in Canada, and if you do it's a one-off location, a novelty of sorts. Almost as soon as you cross the border it's nothing but Tim Hortons as far as the eye can see; every single Petro-Canada gas station has one attached to it.
3. Unlike the states, where options are plenty, in Atlantic Canada there are only two gas station chains -- either Irving or Petro-Canada. Smaller locations are just gas stations, while larger ones from both chains incorporate truckstop facilities or include multiple small restaurant storefronts on the inside.
4. Canadians like pineapple and fresh mushrooms on their gas station baked footlong veggie subs.
We crossed into Nova Scotia from New Brunswick in the late afternoon/early evening hours, and finally arrived at our destination around 10pm Saturday the 13th. We checked into our motel -- which was on the ocean in a little area called Havre Boucher. The family home was about a ten-minute drive away, so we went up to say hi to everyone gathered there -- which included the parents, some of the extended family (uncles, aunts, and cousins) before going back to the motel and passing out.
There's a lot I'm glossing over here, of course, for brevity's sake -- I could write a series of ten or more posts about this trip if I wanted to, but I'm going to try to keep it to three or four at the most. I did want to mention, however, that I did finally see a moose in the wild -- it was on the side of the road in a wetland marsh area while driving through New Brunswick. So, I guess I can mark that off the list of things I needed to do in life.
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