This last year was a big one for me in one major way: it was a redefinition of my professional existence. Since the end of 2009, I’ve transformed from a professional manager to a … hmm … well, my title (however formal it needs to be) is “Solutions Lead”, but that belies a lot of what I do every day, and just using “web developer” or “programmer” — even with a “Senior” prefix — completely understates the reality. This year was really about taking all the skills and knowledge I’d acquired as a leader, and merging that back into my day-to-day development practices.

And that, as the saying goes, was only the tip of the iceberg…

I did a LOT of work. I did so much, in fact, that my contracting business is gone. Doors closed, windows shut, lights off. Permanently. I had to make a very painful call to realise that I need to focus on the three most important things in my life: my family. (There’s three of them, in case you were wondering.) To focus on them means to remove all other distractions inasmuch as is possible, and still earn a paycheque along the way (helping to support said family, of course).

Add to that Alex’s return to work after nearly four years off as a Professional Mom, working evening shifts. That meant more time as a Professional Dad, whether I liked it or not. (And I like it, really. Except for dinner time. Suddenly, I have nothing but sympathy for my parents when I was a kid.) It’s adjustment, it’s growth.

As a result of all of this, many things suffered. My hobbies (what few I have) were shelved — even my desire to blog waned dramatically, with more than a couple of blogless months. My TV watching fell to an all-time low, and I can count on one hand the number of movies I saw in the theatre (coincidentally, also the number of movies I watched during the Christmas break at home through iTunes). My health has also been … unattended, with a noticeable increase in girth and an unhealthy increase in my beer consumption (since decreased, thankfully).

But if you were to ask me if I was “unhappy”, I’d have to say “no”. Every day, my kids remind me why I’m proud to be their dad. Every day, I get a challenge in my job. Every day, I enjoy life, even if it’s only for a few moments. To say I’m “unhappy” would be a disservice (if not an outright insult) to my daily existence, and those around me.

To that end, I can safety state that I’ve:

• Been into Banff National Park on a few occasions — both warm and cold — but nowhere near enough for my liking
• Picnicked as much as we could, but again nowhere near enough for what we could have done
• Enjoyed the first brew from Calgary’s new Village Brewery
• Did some renovation work in the kitchen (and planned more renovation work for this year)
• Retaught myself the fundamentals of being a (web) developer, and merged that with the skills and knowledge of a technology director
• Lamented as I saw Choo Choo seem to grow by leaps and bounds, going from my little baby girl to a walking, talking toddler
• Finally accepted the truth, and got glasses
• Came to understand my father in ways I never thought possible, and really wished that he could be here today to see how his son (kinda) grew up
• Accepted the reality that I will only ever be a father of two beautiful girls — there will never be a third offspring
• Watched in horror as Canada succumbed to fear mongering and elected a government that refuses to listen to its own people (a terrifyingly global trend in 2011)
• Mourned the loss of one of Canada’s best politicians since Pierre Trudeau, the Honourable Jack Layton
• Experienced my first general anesthesia to get my hernia repaired … boy, I do not want to go through that again!
• Drank way too much coffee (yes, folks, that is possible)
• Similarly, also drank too much beer (yes, also possible, though admittedly it tasted really good at the time)
• Launched more projects in one year than I had launched during my busiest five years (combined) at my previous company
• Took Monkey on the SUPER SECRET MONKEY SURPRISE — a short trip on CP 2816
• Took Monkey to the Stampede, and realised to my delight (or possible horror, not sure yet) that she loves rides, especially roller coasters
• Also got the Mother of All Headaches while at the Stampede…
• Travelled to Ontario to visit with my family
• Spent a lot of time swimming in the lake with Monkey and my nieces
• Rode another steam train in Huntsville
• Visited with some old and dear friends (especially Stuart and Therese)
• Celebrated Monkey’s 4th birthday, and Choo Choo’s first birthday
• Also rode on the Heritage Park steam train
• Travelled to Red Deer to see the Backyardigans live (oh, the things parents must do…)
• Travelled once again to the West Coast for post-Christmas and New Year’s celebrations

I’m sure there’s other stuff I did, but my blog was so light on content in 2011 that … well, I’m not sure. Sure, I can try to read Twitter, but I used that in lieu of my blog, so there’s a few thousand tweets I’d need to go over. That’s a little too much. So if I’m making any resolution this year, it’s to write more blog posts.

I had to convince Alex. It’s a two hour drive, which means potentially ineffective naps and not eating ideally (even if we take all the food with us, it’s selective due to limited space). The weather played well in our favour, but it was still a long way to go. But I apparently made my case well, as we got ourselves up early, got our things together, and headed out the door around 9:30 this morning.

Today was one of those days when you really have to remember that I should never be the one making plans…

The drive out to Lake Louise was pretty nice. Unlike our last trip, where Alex was clinging onto the armrests for dear life (the wind combined with blowing snow was a little on the freaky side), the sun was bright until we got to the mountains, and the snow seemed to be falling only far above us. The worst we had was some moronic driver in a Ford Flex who seemed content to pass me, suddenly veer right in front of me, and then slow down.

Oh, and having to listen to Monkey’s Spanish pre-school music CD about ten times while in the car. I still can’t get the music for “The Ants Go Marching In” (“Las hormigas en marchando van”, I believe) out of my head.

Things seemed to be going just beautifully … right up until we pulled off at the Lake Louise exit and saw 20 other cars ahead of us in the off-ramp. I’ve never seen that many cars in front of me before in an off-ramp. Anywhere. Ever. I’m not entirely sure if I said “uh oh” aloud.

Sure enough, the Ice Magic Festival draws a crowd. A big one. The multiple parking lots up at the Lake itself were now full, and a small flotilla of people were diverting cars just off the highway into parking lots. We were #3 in the lot we pulled into. By the time we got out of the car, some 10 minutes later (Kate needed a feeding), the lot was nearly full.

From the lot to the Lake? Five kilometres. Once upon a time, I’d have walked it. Maybe even in the winter. With a 3 year-old and an infant? Not a chance. Thankfully, there were shuttle buses. But because there were buses meant that we had to carry less … Alex and Monkey couldn’t go skating on the lake, now, since we didn’t to lug sharp things around like that. Nor could we bring our stroller, since it was too big for the bus — I had to carry Choo Choo in the Baby Bjorn. (My back still hates me — Choo Choo’s not as light as she used to be.)

So we trundled over to the stop to wait for the shuttle bus. The stop already had an hour’s worth of people. (Keep in mind that just as we got off the highway was when the Lake lot was closed.) The buses were small and running not nearly frequently enough. After a quick conversation with the attendant, we opted to go find the kids’ activities, including the “Little Chippers”.

The activity (note the singular) was an ice-sculpting “contest” where every kid who participated won a prize (extremely egalitarian, I must say), which was a little stuffed husky dog. We opted to get Monkey sunglasses first, which she needed rather badly, then went in search of lunch — a $6.50 pot pie (overpriced, but thankfully tasty) along with a cold cornish pasty — then went back to the Little Chippers.

The Little Chippers was a rather simple premise: give kids a block of ice about the size of a phonebook, and an ice pick that looked a little like a wide and rather menacing fork. Chip away until you have something reasonable, show it to the attendant, and get a stuffed animal. (Given some of the finished pieces, I think “reasonable” was a fairly low bar to get over.)

Monkey took a bit to get into it, and seemed only to stab at her ice with a similar zeal she normally reserved for dinner — which is to say, virtually none. It took a bit of coaxing before she finally let loose and managed to make a few marks. It wasn’t until Alex “helped” by chipping out the shape of a heart that Monkey seemed to get the hang of it. The final product was more reasonable than most, and — I think — worthy of the dog.

It also came with a couple of coupons — a coffee for mommy or daddy (Alex, in our case), and a hot chocolate and a cookie for the child in question (not me). We acquired our winnings, and then headed back towards our car. The plan, now that the shuttle line had grown to nearly two hours (and even with running much larger buses, more frequently), was to drive up to the Lake lot, run over to the ice castle, take a picture, and run back to the idling car.

Yes, for those of you who know Lake Louise well, this was a dumb idea. But for me, who’d forgotten, this was an act of desperation. I was facing four hours of driving, and I was beyond ticked with how the day had evolved. I’d spent most of it in the car, in a restaurant with overpriced (albeit reasonable tasty) food, with a 20-ish pound deadweight strapped to my chest that was pulling my back out of whack.

I was being rather miserable. I’m amazed that Alex puts up with me when I’m like that…

Surprisingly, no-one tried to stop us as we turned up the road towards the Lake. Instead, it was a short drive up the windy road, and a quick half-figure-eight around the lot before we found a spot … at the far end. By this point, we were also dealing with a now-spilled hot chocolate, which had soaked and (potentially) stained Monkey’s coat and pants. “Grumbling” is far from what was going through my mind. Alex, as always, was the calm eye of the storm. Choo Choo had fallen asleep.

While Alex remained in the car, Monkey (planted up on my shoulders) and I trucked over to the lake as quickly as I could walk. Not surprisingly, the paths were filled with a seemingly non-stop onslaught of people not paying attention, and attempting to take pictures hoping the throngs would notice their plight, take pity, and stop walking for five seconds. Basically, too many people and not enough brains…

The ice castle sat on a cleared space of ice that formed the public skating rink in front of the Chateau Lake Louise. I wished, rather dearly, that we hadn’t been in a rush. There were horse rides, which Monkey begged to go on, stands selling hot beverages that I had no money for (my wallet was in the car), and the skating rink looked like so much fun.

Snap, snap, Monkey stand here … no, there… stop moving… look over here, please… here…. OVER HERE! Snapsnapsnapsnap. Ah, good enough! Monkey, come here! Let’s go!!

Fifteen minutes from when we left the car, we were back and loaded up. Back down the hill, onto the highway, and back east towards Calgary, my lower back pulsing, my shoulders cramped, my neck and lower back of my skull oozing with a dull throbbing. I can only hope that someone had fun on this little idiotic idea of mine.

Next year? We’re going to watch videos on YouTube, instead…

2010 was the year we made contact … wait, sorry, wrong catchline. 2010 was the year my family welcomed new members, notably my youngest, a daughter (code)named Choo Choo. It was a year I changed my career outlook (yes, again), and found that I’m not (completely) useless. This was a year of family, for me, and that’s perhaps the most important aspect.

But despite all that, I hesitate to call it “a year of change”.

Got me as to why, though. Let’s be honest, there were a lot of changes, not the least of which are the ones noted above. But at no time did I feel like this is a sudden (and possibly unwanted) shift in my life. It actually feels like things are more settled this year, despite the apparent upheaval, than in previous years. Maybe one day I’ll make some sense of that little quandary.

In the meantime, let’s review 2010:

• Began the year with tea at the Banff Springs, seeing my friend Sonny for the first time in about 15 years
• Started working with some old friends at a new(er) company, Evans Hunt
• Went to Edmonton for a “surprise” weekend (mostly for Monkey) and spent a great morning in the waterslides with her
• Celebrated my Nana’s 97th birthday, which would also sadly be her last
• Found out that I’m K+, my kids are K+, and my wife is anti-K
• Spent many a sleepless night worrying about Choo Choo before she was born
• Though originally disheartened, came to love and be thrilled by the 2010 Winter Olympics in Canada, and felt the massive pride for the successes of our athletes
  • Yes, I Twittered obsessively during the Men’s Hockey gold medal game
• Bought our first flat-screen TV, to go along with our Apple TV
• Welcomed my youngest, (code)named Choo Choo to our world
• Watched Monkey’s first Easter egg hunt
• Found out I’ve got something called “narrow angles” in my eyes, and got laser surgery in both of them
• Went to Drumheller, and visited the Royal Tyrell
• Guided (albeit not as well as I could have) the technical launch of my first all-Drupal website: VisitCalgary.com
• Experienced the abject terror of losing your child in a mall
• Said “thank you” to my Nana — I never say “goodbye”
• Went on my first train chase with Monkey
• Went to dim sum a couple of times, but not nearly enough
• Introduced Monkey to sushi — I think she likes it
• Went to Heritage Park a couple of times, and even saw Thomas the Tank Engine (hey, I’m a parent and I like trains, it’s a win-win)
• Went to the Zoo lots (it helps to have a pass)
• Saw a few movies, but not enough for my liking (the favourite of the year was Toy Story 3, and no, not just because I’m a parent)
• Went on the first Great Family Roadtrip:
  • Overnighted in Medicine Hat, AB; Whitewood, SK; Moosimin, SK; and Swift Current, SK
  • Went to Winnipeg
  • Went to some place east of Camper, out in the middle of nowhere, as part of Alex’s family reunion
  • Stopped off in Regina, Moose Jaw, and Portage La Prairie
  • Drove the whole way and back again, and the kids didn’t seem to mind at all
• Got diagnosed with a hernia (yay, me)
• Celebrated Monkey’s 3rd birthday, her first in Canada (beyond the day she was born, that is)
• Finally got right ticked off with Shaw’s horrid home internet service, and switched over to Telus … we’ll see how it all goes
• Did some kitchen renovation:
  • Installed a new sink and tap
  • Tore out the Florida ceiling
  • Installed new lighting
• Had new windows installed in the house
• Returned to being a developer, rather than a pure manager (I’m still adjusting to this one)
• Took Monkey out on her first real Hallowe’en
• Grew a moustache for Movember (my first, and last time)
• Went to the Currie Barracks location of the Calgary Farmer’s Market almost every weekend for a year, until the location finally (and sadly) closed in December
• Went on our first family flight out to Abbotsford, to spend Christmas in BC
• Visited with some old friends from Radical Entertainment
• Went to downtown Vancouver for the first time in about five years, and remembered how much I love it there
• Had my first green Christmas in many, many years
• Didn’t ride nearly enough trains

Whoof. That’s a lot for one year. Can’t wait to see what 2011 throws at me. Bring it, New Year — I’m ready for you!

Today, that small part got its moment in the limelight. Alex and I had not gotten to bed until well after 1am, having to finish packing, take down our Christmas tree (didn’t want a trying piece of highly-flammable timber being left inside), and making sure all was well with the house. (Oh, and dealing with a sick Monkey. Choo Choo got more sleep than the rest of us, combined.)

And yet, we were off and running in under an hour. Not bad, eh?

We cabbed it. Although it’s usually cheaper to drive and leave the car in one of the lots, we found that our trusty Jetta has a severe aversion to the cold and doesn’t like to start when it’s below -15 C. The last thing we needed to deal with was a frozen car upon our return.

WestJet still remains one of the easiest airlines to fly, in my opinion. It was a simple check-in, few questions, no hassles, and a comfortable flight. Our last flight as a family, prior to Choo Choo’s birth, was arriving in Canada just over a year ago. It had been an arduous, fairly stressful event and it still rang loudly in my mind. Thankfully, this jaunt — a mere hour — was over almost as soon as it started.

It was good to be back in British Columbia again, some three years after my last visit. It was cold and wet, typical for the Lower Mainland in winter, but fresh and green — almost a much cooler version of Costa Rica, actually. Grandpa and Granny met us at the gate — Monkey raced to hug them — and we whisked off to the Aicken Homestead almost immediately. Well, with one sidetrip, where Granny had to pick up the World’s Largest Gift Basket™, which summarily buried me.

Some things had changed, but the house was warm and welcoming, and the massive trees that grow on the property still the whispering stalwarts. It’s comfortable, here, and while it’s no beach on Hawaii, it’s hard not to relax. Which should make for an interesting juxtaposition, since I have to try and work a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

Oh, speaking of which, there’s my email, now…

That, and two cups of coffee, of course…

Although Swift Current was inundated with fog when we got up, the sun had burned its way through before we hit the road for Alberta. The sky didn’t look threatening, but there was enough doubt there to suggest we might see some rain along the way. As I stands, the only things that hit the windshield today were bugs.

A curious thing I’ve noticed about Saskatchewan, and I’d love to know the reason for it. East of Swift Current, there are lots of little towns scattered along the Trans Canada (keeping in mind that the Trans Canada more-or-less follows the route of the Canadian Pacific mainline, which was how people got out here in the first place way back when). West of Swift Current, however, there ain’t much. It’s almost a void. It could because the terrain transforms from grasslands to scrublands, and eventually to badlands. Even parts of Alberta were settled only when Canadian Pacific built a water viaduct through Brooks to bring water to an otherwise desolate area.

A little over two hours after leaving Swift Current, we passed across the border into Alberta. Oddly enough, I felt really good about that, even though we still had over three hours to get to Calgary. We were still far from home.

We shot through Medicine Hat, and turned into the town just east of it called Redcliff. Mommy’s friend Marnie lives there, and she’d dropped a hint (through Facebook — I wonder if it’ll still be around when you get around to reading this) that we should stop in on our way back. Marnie was pregnant with her third baby at the same time Mommy was pregnant with Choo Choo, so there was some desire to meet the newborns.

Monkey, we didn’t see much of you. You played with Marnie’s two older daughters. Sadly, I think this officially turned you into a little girl, too. Until now, Mommy and I have done our best to try and butch you up. You have a grand total of two dresses … one of which was actually a gift for Choo Choo, but you fit it (until recently, anyway). But you discovered the joy of dress-up, and ran around as a princess. You were beyond happy, so much so I’m certain you were sad to leave. But we had to get back to Calgary in time to pick up Asia from her kitty hotel.

Grandpa had told me on the way out that the worst stretch of the entire Trans Canada Highway is the part between Calgary and Medicine Hat. At the time, I’d disagreed, having an albeit vague memory of Medicine Hat to Swift Current. I drove the final stretch home, and I have since apologised to Grandpa — he’s right, that three hours is terribly long and dull. It’s flat, featureless, nearly devoid of any towns, and the only real sense of you moving is the endless stretches of telephone poles and/or electrical towers.

Oh, and something else I noticed. When you see a dimensional load on trucks in Saskatchewan, it’s farm equipment. In Alberta, it’s oil equipment.

We screamed into the Rainbow Pet Centre around 16:15, and retrieved our poor lonely kitty. We did our best to shoot across Calgary in building rush hour traffic, and arrived home just after 17:00. Monkey, you were quite content to stay outside and read, rather than go in the house. Though when you did, you really wanted to just get into your own bed. I don’t blame you in the slightest.

We had our first (mostly) home-cooked meal since leaving town a week ago, and it felt good to sit at our own table.

On a positive note, this was an excellent first family trip. It wasn’t an easy one, by any means, but both of you kids did very well in the car for such long times. It’s not easy being stuck in those seats with so little to do. (Well, for Monkey, anyway. Choo Choo, you tended to sleep. Which is exactly the right thing.) We’ll have to see how we do these in the future, as I’m not sure we’re going to be going such a long distance again for a while. I’m of the opinion that the trek to the homestead should wait until you’re both quite a bit older, and would appreciate it a lot more.

Like, 10 years or so…

Monkey, you slept like a log. We had trouble waking you up.

Today was relatively uneventful. Saskatchewan, as those who have travelled across it will also likely tell you, is filled with farms, the odd grain elevator, a few lakes, and not a heck of a lot else. (I should add that the eastern part of Alberta is much the same, and actually a little worse.) Our trip was from Moosomin in the east, to Swift Current in the west. Like I said before, we’re keeping it light in the interests of not overdoing it.

It had rained last night, and was still spotty as we headed out onto the highway. A few times the rain came and went, and it remained mostly cloudy until we were well past Regina. The storm looked pretty nasty, and apparently did a number to Regina, which we saw when we arrived. Our major stop was Regina, incidentally, for lunch. We ate near Victoria Mall, at a Mr. Sub (we’re swearing you off sandwiches for a while, Monkey — you just ain’t eating them anymore).

We then went off in a very painful search for coffee. Tim’s won’t apparently do, so we tracked down what I can only take to be the single Second Cup in the entire city. Which of course, is in a mall. Downtown. Right off a pedestrian area. With no place to park.

With coffees in hand, we headed back to a playground we’d seen on the way in so you could burn off a little steam before we hit the road. You ran around quite happily in what apparently was known as Core Park, until it was time for us to leave. You were asleep not long after hitting the ring road. Choo Choo, you were out pretty much the same time.

We drove to Largest Extant Species of the Deer Family’s Lower Mandible (Moose Jaw), where we had to stop for gas. Monkey, you woke up. Surprisingly, Choo Choo, you did not. We stayed only long enough to get gas, a snack, some juice, and we were gone. We were in Speedy Creek (another name for Swift Current) just around 17:00. The first thing we did was all go for a swim.

Dinner was at a place called “TNT Family Restaurant”. We’ve discovered that eating at anything listed as a “family restaurant” is generally a bad idea. The iced tea was powdered and the pasta sauce tasted like Chef Boyardee. The service, at least, was familial.

Sleep well, my pretties. Tomorrow, we go home!

Then we headed back down to Portage, which is one of the main roads in Winnipeg. After a stop at Timmy’s for a coffee recharge, we set our sights for Saskatchewan and our overnight stop at Moosomin.

The question was what were we going to do in between…

The answer is “not much”. Our only stop was in Brandon. Which is actually grossly understating the stop in general. While I would have been happy to stop on the highway (Choo Choo, you were extremely hungry at the time, and were very intent on making sure there was no doubt in anyone’s minds of that fact), Grandpa found a restaurant on the GPS further in town. While I admit I’m gaining a general dislike of restaurant suggestions on that thing, the fact that we went into town is proving to be very handy.

Lunch was at a place call Cranberry’s Family Restaurant. Overall, your basic average restaurant, nothing fancy by any means. Very strict on their menu, too. Mommy asked for a tuna melt, which was technically feasible since they had other melts on the menu and were offering a tuna salad sandwich, but there was just no leeway at all.

We decided to look for a park that had a playset so you could get out and run around a bit, Monkey. You’ve been really cooped up, and when you run around, you’re generally happier. We found one between 13th and 15th St, a couple blocks north of Victoria. At first, we saw only the park. Then the playset. Then we saw the water park. Given the 35-ish degree temperature, this seemed like the perfect thing for you to go running around in.

No sooner had we set up at a picnic table that an ice cream cart came by. Talk about your fortuitous timing! But you only had a little bit of the fudge bar before you wanted to go running about.

It took a fair amount of coaxing on my part, but I finally got you to run into the water, Monkey. The park itself was pretty simple: a red ring that sprayed, two big blue poles that jetted upwards, a purple candy cane-shaped pole that sprayed downwards, and some sprayed right out of the ground. Kids ran from spray to spray, as they all seemed to turn off and on in a slow cycle. Eventually, you were running in and out, too.

Shortly after 15:00, we started to load back up, and headed out of town. You were both asleep before we got to the Trans Canada again. From there, our trip went quietly until we got to Moosomin. There, we checked into the Canalta Hotel, a very new establishment — so new, the road is still gravel. Granny had spotted it on our way out from Whitewood, and I’d remembered the word “waterslide”. It’s a working hotel, meaning you get work crews in there a lot. That was obvious from the room we got — three queen-sized beds.

After charming the heck out of the clerks at the front desk, you and I went swimming, Monkey. Unlike the Holiday Inn in Winnipeg, the Canalta’s pool is cool. Not “cold”, but it didn’t take long for you to start shivering. And, like me, you don’t like hot water pools, so I couldn’t get you to warm up in the big pool. So, instead, I took you on the waterslide.

The waterslide is clearly meant for kids, because neither I or one other daddy could fit very well inside it (though we did manage to get down pretty easily). I’ve also determined with absolute certainty that I need new swim trunks for waterslides — the ones I have only seem to stick, so we didn’t get a lot of speed. We went down together many times before you went on your own, with the help of the other daddy (I waited at the bottom to catch you). You came down feet first, but on your belly. Although you would later said the waterslide was scary because it was all dark, you also said it was a lot of fun!

We had dinner at the Red Barn Restaurant, which is one of the oddest restaurants I’ve eaten at in a long time. The outside makes it look like a diner-style restaurant, the interior almost makes it look like a higher-end trendy restaurant (and the menu isn’t far off), but you order at it like a McDonald’s. My food was good, so I couldn’t slag the quality, though Mommy said her pasta wasn’t so good.

Bed comes early. Tomorrow’s another long day.

As for you, Choo Choo … well, I’m not really sure what to make of your thoughts. Aside from the fact that you’re only 4.5 months old, there’s also the consideration that, unlike your sister, you don’t sleep a lot. So we’re never really sure if you’re generally unhappy with being in your seat, tired, or hungry. I suspect at some level you’re probably all three at the same time.

Still it was absolutely necessary that we take the day off and not really go anywhere. So we went to The Forks.

I’d first seen The Forks back in 2002, when I was in Winnipeg with the CBC TV 50th Anniversary VIA Rail train. I’d been quite impressed with them at the time, not the least of which was when I learned of their railway heritage. After learning that the Manitoba Children’s Museum was there, The Forks suddenly became my favoured destination. Mommy felt we should go to a place called Tinkertown, which although further away, had far more to do. In the end, it came down to the fact that Tinkertown didn’t open until noon.

Grandpa and Granny came with us, having decided that they would not go to the cottage at the lake, either. We drove quickly downtown, and found a parking spot right next to the entrance. We all walked around inside for a bit, before we went over to the museum. Here we divided. Choo Choo, you went with Mommy and Grandpa back into the market to look around; Monkey, you came with Granny and I into the museum. You literally ran over to the train first.

The Manitoba Children’s Museum has a train inside it. A real one. Ex-CN 9161, and what looks like a passenger/mail combine, which were (and still are) common on the Winnipeg-Churchill run (which this train was representing). The train no longer works, of course. The museum is closing in September for a rebuilding, and I hope they keep the train — it really is a nice centrepiece, and as a railfan, it would be terrible to lose it. I suppose if worse comes to worse, the railway museum isn’t far away, and I imagine they’d like to have it.

You ran around the train, although you were initially scared to go in the locomotive’s cab for some reason. Then you were off down to the wall of long pegs that you can make impressions with. I found a set of tubes that ran on a blower: you put in a shower loofa in one end, it ran through the tubes (depending on how you set the valves), and it popped out of one of three places. That didn’t hold your interest as long as I thought it would, Monkey.

Around the corner was a big tree that you could climb inside, and come down a built-in slide. You did this repeatedly, and almost made friends with some of the other kids while doing it. Then it was back to the train for a while, when you suddenly realised you needed to pee. You’re getting very good at letting us know when you need to go, kiddo — you’re almost totally free of diapers (except at night).

We had lunch at the market. While waiting for Choo Choo, Mommy, and Grandpa, a busker drew a quick sketch of Monkey with her fingers in her mouth. We offered a donation, and he drew another one of Choo Choo sleeping in the stroller. You had a berry crepe, Monkey. Not quite as good as the one you regularly eat at the Farmer’s Market back home (in my opinion, anyway), but you didn’t seem to mind.

I had a roti. The last time I had a roti, I still worked in Toronto. This was 1997. It was at a place either called Coconut Grove or Crystal Grove (I can’t remember for sure). It was on Dundas Road just east of Yonge Street. The site is now the location of Dundas Square. My friend Mike introduced them to me, and I’d been on the lookout for roti ever since. I was surprised to not readily find any in Vancouver, and I haven’t really been searching too hard in Calgary. So this was a treat for me, and it was very good. Although I will say that goat generally tastes better than beef in a roti.

After lunch, Monkey, you and I went back to the museum for a while. We passed by a First Nations group that was dancing in a circle nearby, beating their drum and singing. You’ve never seen this before, so we spent a while watching. It was very, very hot (even hotter than on the coast of Costa Rica, as I recall) so we took refuge in the shade of one of the sculptures there.

You played with the pegs, ran around the train, played with the chalk, but soon it was time for us to go back. You didn’t want to leave. In fact, you put up a bit of a fight. I suspect that was mostly due to exhaustion. I suspect this because you fell asleep before we were out of downtown Winnipeg, and slept another two hours back at the hotel. It was your first proper nap since we left home.

We all went swimming when you both woke up. We splashed and played. Choo Choo, you seem to like the water — a lot more than when you have a bath, lemme tell ya. We swam for about an hour before we packed up to go have dinner.

Tomorrow, we begin our long trek home.

Granny drove with Great Uncle Ken and Great Aunt Marilyn so she “would have all-new material”, and likely because after a while, you just can’t stand being around us Sowreys any longer.

At Eriksdale, we stocked up on coffee and a couple of snacks, and then were off again in search of an unnamed and otherwise unmarked access road (I couldn’t even call it a rural road), which would lead us towards the old homestead site. We were working off the collective memory of Grandpa, and his brother (your Great Uncle Paul), and a couple of others who’d been to the site before. In addition, we were also looking out for an old teapot, hung there some 30 years previous by your Great Great Grand Uncle Frank, who would have also been on this trip, but sadly only passed away the day we left home.

I suppose in many ways this is an auspicious trip, though you kids won’t understand that for a few years to come; for you in particular, Choo Choo. You are the fifth generation of Aicken (the fact that you have my last name is mere legality), and this is your heritage. Choo Choo, you’re the most recent direct-line descendant of your great-great grandfather.

We almost didn’t make it. About 3/4 of the way there, we found the road had been flooded by the rising of Stewart Lake, likely as a result of all the rain Manitoba has been receiving this year. We weren’t sure how deep it was, or even it we could ford it. Thankfully, members of the Webster family, who now farm the area, showed to us that the water was really quite shallow, and even regular city cars wouldn’t have a problem. Even then, quite a few people took to the back of Paul’s pickup truck, which was the first across the 500-600 metre stretch. We followed soon after.

Rounding a few corners, and fording another flooded section, we found the teapot, right where Frank had left it. It’s rusted considerably over the years, but it’s still recognisable. You’d never be able to boil water in it, though.

Despite being prepared to be eaten alive, especially by deer flies (I think this scared you most of all Monkey — you’re a bit of an insectophobe right now, except for ants), we saw virtually nothing. All of us, except maybe myself (I can’t really tell) were bitten. Choo Choo has a nasty one on her wrist, but doesn’t seem to notice.

The ground was wet and very marshy, and the near-constant plodding of cows turned the wet soil into a very unstable and icky mess. Still, we managed to get into the homestead site, and Grandpa gave us the tour as he understood it. He even explained a story of some stone markers they’d once found, and now believe to be the grave of an unnamed sibling to Frank, who likely died as a baby. Given their location — roughly 12 kilometres from anything — it’s amazing they lost only one child, and seven lived to ripe old ages.

A little further down the road, we came to a corner, where Grandpa said we would find the northeast marker of the original homestead land. There’s a survey pole there, but the plot marker seems to be buried under considerable amounts of grass and mud, and none of us had brought a shovel to find it. A stand of poplars, which thrive throughout the area, offered a fair amount of shade from the heat. It seemed like as good a place as any for a picnic.

After lunch, a group headed further up the road to find the site of the old schoolhouse (gone probably almost as long as the homestead). The five of us (Granny was still with Ken and Marilyn) started towards Teulon, where we would have a big ol’ family dinner. It seemed like a great opportunity for both of you kids to get some sleep — you didn’t get any yesterday, and it showed.

At Eriksdale, I was more-or-less forced from the van to get coffee for Mommy and Grandpa. He drove down a sideroad for a couple of kilometres to keep you both asleep, then turned around to pick up the coffee and me. Then it was off again towards Teulon.

We had a pre-dinner party at Dennis and Daphne’s house, which was a wonderful setting: a huge yard, and lots of space for you to run around in, Monkey. You played with Rachel, Hunter, and Micah, as well as ran around with some of the bigger kids. Hunter shared all her dolls with you. You found a Woody doll (from Toy Story, currently one of your favourites) and were thrilled. Mommy and I were thrilled, too — we got to have a drink!

Just after 18:00, we all took off into central Teulon (basically, right next to the long-abandoned CP Arborg subdivision line), and had dinner at the Teulon Rockwood Centennial Centre. This was the best meal we had since leaving home, and possibly the best we’ve had in a month! (Well, for us, Choo Choo — you’re still breastfeeding at the moment.) Afterwards, Monkey just played with all the other kids.

We returned to Dennis and Daphne’s for a short prayer service (led by Grandpa), while you kids ran around. Sadly, that’s when you got whacked in the head, Monkey, and I lost my temper with Micah (after telling him to put the badminton racquets down before he did hit someone). It wasn’t pretty after that, and I was fairly relieved to be leaving after making an ass of myself.

The drive back to our hotel was about an hour. We had to stop at one point because Choo Choo simply couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel for her nightly feed. Monkey, you passed out (as usual) just before we got to the hotel. We unpacked quickly and got everyone to bed. I think we all passed out before our heads hit the pillows.

It took a lot longer than I thought to get here.

We kept our stops few. Beyond the stop at the Manitoba border (where we should have turned our watches forward, but forgot), we stopped only in Brandon for coffee and our sandwiches for lunch, and in Portage la Prairie to eat our lunch. The last stop was far too short, as we had very little time left to get to Winnipeg before our evening event. That was a shame, since Island Park is truly a wonderful place for a picnic, mosquitos notwithstanding. You got to play there a bit, Monkey. Maybe on our way back, you’ll get a chance to play a bit more.

It was after we left Brandon that you had your first real problem with the trip, Monkey. You’ve spent nearly half of the time since we left Calgary in your car seat. Sometimes, it’s hard for a little Monkey to be patient. You’ve been so patient on this trip, honey, but eventually you have to hit a limit. You were, shall we say, upset. It took a few minutes for you to calm down so that we could drive again.

You didn’t have a nap today, either, which would lead to your second problem — a real full-scale meltdown at bedtime. It just reinforces the need for you to sleep during the day. I’m not sure how much you’ll sleep in the days to come with all the activity that’s planned, but hopefully we’ll find a way.

With some direction from Grandpa’s cousin (and the man who had married Mommy and I), we found our way to our hotel in Winnipeg, the Holiday Inn on Pembina Highway. It was only when we got inside that I realised that it was the same hotel I’d stayed at in 2002 when I was last in Winnipeg, with the CBC TV 50th Anniversary VIA Rail train. I’d had a drink in the hotel’s lobby bar after a hard day, just before our worst day of the tour.

Mommy suggested that I have a shower. Almost right afterwards, we all hopped back in the Sienna again (sometimes, I’m sure it feels like we never get out of the car, kids) and drove out to the Immanuel United Church on Kimberley Ave. in eastern Winnipeg. There was the first of three Aicken-Campbell family reunion events. This is important for you two, since you’re descended from the Aicken family, and this year is the 100th anniversary of the Aicken family in Canada. That’s why we’re out here.

Choo Choo, you became the Belle of the Ball, being handed from person to person without so much as a single sound. Monkey, you made near-instant friends with Rachel, who is your third or fourth cousin (we’re not really sure) and followed her around almost like a little puppy. You also made friends with Micah, Mary’s little boy, and the two of you squealed as you rolled around on the carpet.

Dinner was simple, yet scrumptious: skewers of lamb and chicken, salad, and potatoes, all from a local Greek restaurant. You had KD, Monkey — the elders had enough sense to know you weren’t going to eat Greek.

Tomorrow is another big day. We’re off way up north to find the old Aicken family homestead, which is where much of the Canadian branch of the Aicken family began. Sleep well, I think it’s going to be a long one.

And as Mommy and I have noticed, neither you nor your sister, Monkey, really understand the idea of “quickly”.

While you kids might have slept well, none of we adults did. Some hotels seem to have a bizarre need to cram pillows as full of stuffing as possible, as to utterly negate the ability to sleep easily. (I’ve slept on rocks that were more comfortable.) Breakfast was a nice buffet, though shockingly short of bacon, in my opinion. We packed up, loaded up, buckled in, and hit the road.

The trip out of Medicine Hat was fairly quick, and we were at the Saskatchewan border fairly soon. We stopped for a quick picture, and then continued eastward. The land got flatter and flatter, and we soon hit the terrain where you could see your kids running away for days running in a straight line. (Thankfully, Monkey was buckled in her seat, and Choo Choo can’t even crawl yet.)

We drove past countless tiny little towns until we felt a need to stop for a quick break. Morse is a tiny town, founded in 1912. The Lutheran Church appears to not have been used in a couple of decades (even the power lines are cut), and the school closed sometime in the last decade or so. The original school, built when the town was founded, is now a museum. And an eclectic museum it is…

Monkey, you got to play here. You ran out across a wide field — formerly the school yard — and to an older, but still well-loved collection of swings and slides and half-buried towns. Long freight trains announced their passing from kilometres away, their horns echoing across the open spaces, and then flying across the plains between the playground and Reed Lake.

We stayed a while, long enough for you to get worn out a bit, Monkey, before we returned to the highway. More small towns, even a Potash mine, heading to Moose Jaw. There we stopped for lunch (although it took us a while to figure out where we were stopping) at the McDonald’s. Not my first choice, but was something we determined would be quick and easy … and it had a playplace, which you were actually a little scared of.

I took over driving from Grandpa, who had driven until that point, and we continued east. I had hoped to put in a bit of a surprise and take a detour, but apparently I had forgotten an earlier conversation where we’d already agreed to such a detour. We turned southeast onto Highway 39, heading for the small town of Rouleau.

For those of you not living in Canada (or for Canadians living either without cable, or under a rock), the CTV network used to air a show a couple of years ago called “Corner Gas”, which was set in the fictional town of Dog River, Saskatchewan. The real location of Dog River is Rouleau, which is about 50 kilometres southwest of Regina. It’s the pure definition of small-town Saskatchewan: founded by the railway, with a few brick buildings, and a big grain elevator. The buildings built for Corner Gas — the gas station and the adjoining Ruby cafe, actually sit about a kilometre up Highway 39 from the townsite (which played into one of the show’s plotlines about Corner Gas actually being out of town). The grain elevator still bears the name “Dog River”.

We stopped for pictures, of course. Then we went into Rouleau for a quick run around. We saw the Dog River Howler, and the “Municipal Police Station”, which is actually a cafe. The inside of the cafe was an attraction all its own. Rouleau gets up to about 500 visitors a day during the summer; when Corner Gas was being filmed, it was over 5,000. And those people signed the walls. The plethora of signatures is astounding. Even more astounding are the maps with their pins. I was amazed to see people from all over the world having visited — especially from Canada, and moreso the prairies.

We scooted back north to Regina, and continued eastward to Whitewood, arriving a few minutes after 17:00. Whitewood is another railway town, like so many in the prairies, and still hosts the Canadian Pacific mainline. The Whitewood Inn was our stop, and was also Grandpa and Granny’s stop when they crossed the prairies 20 years ago. As we would find out, not much about the Whitewood Inn had changed in those 20 years. To call the place a “dive” would almost be considered an insult to dives around the world.

(A bit unfair. In truthfulness, the Whitewood Inn is really not too bad a place.)

We all dressed to jump in the indoor pool, only to be thankfully thwarted at the last second. As it turned out, the pool was undergoing a maintenance cleaning, and was full of acid. You were highly disappointed, Monkey, and I think we all wanted to go for a swim after such a long drive.

We ate dinner at the Chicken Chef restaurant in the hotel. It was far from fancy. The chicken had clearly been cooked a couple of hours earlier and kept warm in an oven, the yellow kernels had clearly been corn once upon a time but had been cooked beyond their capability to retain flavour or texture, but you at least liked the chicken fingers.

At least we had adjoining rooms, which really only seemed to allow Monkey to run between the rooms well past your bedtime. I took a little walk after you went to bed, mostly to take a picture of the grain elevator. It seemed to me that the single biggest thing to do in Whitewood was drive donuts in the gravel parking lot of the Esso station, before blasting down the road.

Tomorrow, we’re off to Winnipeg.

Grandpa and Granny arrived after lunch. We loaded up the minivan (which had a fair amount more cargo space than Mommy and I thought there might have been), loaded up you kids, and hit the road for a town called Medicine Hat.

The beginning of our first great family road trip.

It’s a short beginning, I confess. We’ve got a long way to go. Winnipeg is over 1,000 kilometres from Calgary (note to those of you who don’t know Canadian geography: it’s far less than half the distance across the country — yes, Canada really is that big). You can do it in a day, driving for around 13 hours straight. But we’re not going to subject everyone to such a long day. That’s a little on the cruel side.

So we’re making a few stops. Our first is in Medicine Hat. Our next is almost an entire province further away in Whitewood, Saskatchewan. It’s going to be our furthest drive since Monkey was born. We’re not too sure how it’s going to go, since having you both locked in your seats will be a bit of a challenge. The third day is the trip out to Winnipeg.

Today’s trip was, well, a good start and a good test.

We left town going south to 22X, which is a little different than most people, who take 16th Ave N (which is the Trans Canada Highway through town) heading east. 22X continues into a provincial highway, and connects back to the Trans Canada near Bassano. I think if we feel the need to go east again, I might suggest it — for a drive, it is far more interesting than taking the Trans Canada right out of Calgary.

Once you get to Bassano, though … well, it gets kinda dull. We stopped at the Esso station there, mostly because Choo Choo was hungry and made sure everyone knew. Monkey had a chance to run up and down the aisles of the convenience store. I’ll admit that it worried me a little, since we were barely over an hour into the journey, and stopping another 12 times on the way to Winnipeg didn’t fill me with hope.

But we persevered, and made it all the way to Medicine Hat. We drifted through town until we got to the east side, and found our way to the Medicine Hat Lodge, a four-floor hotel casino. Checking in proved a little difficult, as there was a considerable amount of difficulty in the staff understanding the term “adjoining”. Granpa managed to get the problem sorted out, and soon we were checked in, and then eating a long-overdue dinner.

Our our meal, Mommy and Choo Choo headed to bed, while I took Monkey to the pool with Granny and Grandpa. We didn’t get to splash for very long, unfortunately, as it was already well past your bedtime, Monkey, and I wasn’t sure that taking you on the waterslide was a great idea. Still, you had fun. Then we went back upstairs to our rooms.

You slept with Granny and Grandpa, Monkey. You were very good, and did as you were told.

Tomorrow should be an interesting, albeit long day. I hope we all enjoy it!

Why so long? It’s been a number of things. First, I worked a lot, and too hard. It wore me down and I was almost always too tired to do things that we should have done. It’s a poor excuse, Monkey, and I’m sorry that it’s all I have to offer. Second, doing things in Costa Rica was always just that much harder than it really needed to be, at least when planning for us. You can only go to Arenal so many times, and getting to the coast never seemed to be as easy for us as it was for others. After a while, we planned all of our weekends, rather than letting one of us surprise the rest.

Needless to say, I wanted to change things up a bit.

We went to Edmonton, the capital of Alberta, and the home of the West Edmonton Mall. Once upon a time, long before you were born, West Edmonton Mall was the largest mall in the world. Now it’s only a measly #6 … though it’s still the largest in North America. We didn’t go to shop, though. You’re not a shopper. Not yet, anyway. We went there for the World Waterpark, which (depending on whom you ask) is the largest indoor waterpark in the world.

For that, we piled in the car Friday afternoon, and set our course … northwest. This is because one of the requirements of a Surprise Weekend is to keep the others guessing. Or at least, that’s how I do it. Mommy goes insane trying to get me to tell her where we’re going. It used to be cute, but I think the next time we go somewhere, I’ve got about 60 minutes of leeway before she punches me.

We took Stoney Trail, which is part of the new ring road that circles about 3/5 of Calgary, from Highway #1 in the west to Highway #2 in the north. (It was then that Mommy correctly guessed “Edmonton”, but I feigned ignorance — not a stretch for your father, I might add — for nearly three more hours.) From there, we drove to Airdrie, only for a quick stop at Tim Horton’s for a couple of steeped teas, a muffin, and a donut.

We didn’t stop again until we got to Red Deer, which was where we had dinner. It was one of those unplanned things in life that gets you an historic moment you’ll soon forget about, only to remember years later. In 1988, Calgary hosted the Winter Olympics (something, it seems, Calgarians never stop talking about). That winter, the Olympic flame journeyed all the way across the country, running through my hometown of Oakville — I still remember the flame being run down Lakeshore Road. Mommy saw the flame when it got to Calgary.

This year, Vancouver is hosting the Winter Olympics (sadly, we won’t be going), and the flame is making a long journey all around the country. On Friday, it ran through Red Deer, right in front of the Montana’s at the south end, which happened to be the place Mommy picked for us to eat. You and Mommy stayed inside, while I went out to watch the runner pass the torch to the next person. A short historic moment you won’t remember, and Mommy and I will likely forget until the next time we see it.

Once we hit the road again, I told Mommy where we were going. That allowed her to relax a bit. We drove through the darkness, the stars overhead, heading towards the distant glow of Edmonton. (Seriously, Edmonton, we could see you from Red Deer. You have a light pollution problem.) We drove along the new #216 highway through southwest Edmonton until turning off on Stoney Plain Drive, and found our Holiday Inn Express.

The room was nice, and we were all pooped from the long drive. Mommy, now nearly seven months pregnant, took one bed. You got stuck with me, Monkey. And while we’re on the subject, you are the most restless sleeper I’ve ever had the misfortune of sharing a bed with. You never stop moving around, and I can’t count the number of times you tried to sleep sideways, kicking me in the ribs. I’m amazed either of us got any sleep over the last two nights!

The next morning, we tramped downstairs to the breakfast buffet, before packing up and heading over to the mall. Shortly after arriving, Mommy got a call from her friend Sandra, and decided to go and visit while you and I went to the waterpark. But first, we wandered our way down to the entrance, passing the sea lion entertaining what appeared to be special guests, and watched the lemurs play in the their enclosure.

We managed to get our ticket from a nice couple who had gotten the tickets through work. At $10 off the cover price ($30), we couldn’t believe our luck! You and I got changed, and Mommy waited to see us at the viewing area. She commented that I should have left our backpack in the locker, so it wouldn’t get stolen. I didn’t think it was a problem, given all the other parents with their backpacks, bags, and strollers.

Our first stop was the Dolphin Pool, a kiddie pool that barely came to your waist, but had three small waterslides. You didn’t take much encouraging to go up the stairs and go down your first ever waterslide. You’d been on big slides before, and I think you thought these would be the same. But suddenly, your bum slipped out from under you, and you were whizzed down the slide into the water below. You were a little stunned, but you still got up giggling.

After a little bit, we went into the big pool — the one that looked like a beach, and had the waves. The last time you felt waves was last October when we’d gone to Playa Chiquita. Mommy and I still feel bad that we didn’t get to any more beaches after that, because that was the first time you really liked going to the beach. There’s no sand at World Waterpark, but you loved the waves.

As we headed back to the Dolphin Pool, I realised that Mommy was right — the bag should have stayed in the locker. It was gone, as was the towel we’d rented. I didn’t panic, but I was pretty annoyed. It wasn’t so much that my phone and credit card were in there, it was more that it had all of your diapers. That, and it really made me feel nothing but disgust for people who would take something in such a family environment.

We talked to the staff, and they said they would call security. They gave us an extra towel (you were shivering something fierce), and suggested that we also look around one more time. Thankfully, far away from where we’d originally placed our things, was the bag — towelless — sitting on the last chair of the back row of the deck chairs. Whether some “clever” thief had put it there in hopes we’d not look for it, or if some kid had moved it as a joke, I don’t know. But nothing was missing (insert a big PHEWF here). I called off the hounds, and immediately put the bag in the locker.

Back to the pool, we went over to an area known as Caribbean Cove, which is a large structure (I don’t know what else to call it) where you can climb, turn wheels, pull on ropes, lift handles, and generally just get utterly soaked. You didn’t like it quite as much the first time (more the second time), and we went back to the Dolphin Pool again.

After a while, I convinced you to go on a waterslide, the only one I could take you down with me. Sadly, my choice of bathing suit appeared to be really bad, because we got stuck a few times on the way down. You giggled and cheered “whee!” anyway. The waterslide seemed to pique your interest, though, and back at the Dolphin Pool, you happily ran up the waterslide stairs, slid down, and repeated until it was time to go.

It was almost 13:30 before we found a restaurant to eat at, and it was over an hour before we’d finished. (The service at Moxie’s, though apologetic, was borderline intolerably slow.) We headed out to the car, and back to the hotel so you could nap.

For dinner, we went to one of the most Canadian of restaurants: Swiss Chalet. Given you run-in with chicken at lunch, we opted to order you a kid’s pizza. Mommy had a salad, which I was tempted to copy, but I got suckered into one of my old favourites, the quarter chicken. The Chalet Sauce hasn’t changed since I was a kid … nor had the decor of that particular location, from what I could tell. Our server was beyond amazing, however, and was an utter joy.

You and I both reeked of chlorine, something you’re not familiar with, but thankfully a bath managed to get most of the stench off of you. I would have to wait until this morning’s shower to get the smell off of me. (That, and wrestle another night with you kicking me in the ribs.)

After breakfast this morning, we went back to the Mall (‘cuz, really, what else is there to do in Edmonton?), with the idea of going to Galaxyland. It’s an amusement park in the Mall (you’re going to find this hard to believe, but most malls don’t have rollercoasters), and has a play area exactly for kids your age. It’s only $6, and Mommy and I get to go in with you. And unlike everywhere else we’ve been, we get to climb with you, too (mostly because somethings are a bit too much for you at this age).

You went in the bouncy room, trudged through the ball pit, climbed up and down the padded levels. I took you way up high to go down one of the slides. At first, I thought I might just send you down on your own, but thankfully I had enough sense to go with you — the slide was very dark inside. You seemed unimpressed with it. Your second slide you did on your own, which was far less of a success — I heard the distinct down of squeaking skin, and you came down feet-first on your belly. You weren’t happy at all.

After a bit more playing, I took you on a small train that runs around Galaxyland. Despite being excited to go on, I think you were disappointed that you didn’t get to run the train. We went for lunch — you split a Mr. Sub sandwich with Mommy — and then hit the road for Calgary.

As we drove home — you slept all the way to Red Deer — I couldn’t help but stare wistfully at the flatness that surrounded us. Driving in Costa Rica, it was exceedingly rare to see a flat area, as the country is so mountainous. Even rarer are long stretches of straight road. But up here, you can look around for 360 degrees and see nothing but a straight horizon, the road you’re travelling on disappearing way off in the horizon in a dead-straight line. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it.

It’s been a long weekend of fun, Monkey. I hope you enjoyed it. We’ll be going back again, and I hope with each successive time, you enjoy it more and more. And hopefully, your sister will like going there, too.

The year closed out on a more sombre note for me, in many ways. Much quieter, and I got to spend a lot of time with my family (which I cherish now, and cannot regret in anyway), but the future is a little less certain. I’m less concerned about that fact than I thought I would be, however.

On with the year that just was…

• Rang in the new year watching fireworks go off all over the Central Valley in Costa Rica (a spectacular sight, if you ever happen to be in Costa Rica at New Year’s)
• Had numerous run-ins with illness between The Monkey, myself, and Alex (and some far less pretty than others, lemme tell ya!)
• Experienced my first, bonafide, scare-the-crap-outta-me earthquake, measuring in at 6.2 at its epicentre
• In Costa Rica, travelled to:
  • Villa Blanca (Los Angeles Cloud Forest), three times
  • Arenal (for my very wet birthday)
  • Parque de Diversiones
  • Playa del Coco
  • Playa Hermosa
  • Playa Chiquita
  • Puerto Viejo
  • La Paz Waterfalls
• Had a few troubles with our trusty Suzuki, Dave, and spent more than a few bucks getting ‘em all fixed
• Managed to avoid becoming totally addicted to coffee, but still drank a lot of it
• Took pride in The Monkey starting school (yes, even though she wasn’t even 2 years old yet)
• Worked through the challenges of getting a startup business up and running; the stress took its toll on me and my family, and likely all lead to where I am at this very moment
• Travelled to Canada for a visa run, though it was originally planned as a family visit:
  • Barrie
  • Bolton
  • Oakville
  • And wee bit of Toronto (I had to go into the Toronto office) just for flavour
• Saw far too few sunsets on beaches
• Discovered great Indian food in Costa Rica
• Moved from our first apartment to a new apartment, after our condo management company couldn’t come to an agreement on a contract extension
• Got utterly screwed by the aforementioned condo management company, to the tune of about USD$1,500
• Celebrated 20 years of journalling/blogging with post #1,000 (total coincidence, I swear!)
• Did a Stampede-style breakfast for my co-workers
• Finally acquired my Temporary Residency visa … after realising that staying in Costa Rica long-term wasn’t an option for my family, and we’d decided to go home
• Waxed poetic on management and management style (perhaps too much so?)
• Cringed as The Monkey crossed into “The Terrible Twos” (which, thankfully, haven’t really been that bad)
• Finally snapped after running into a “Perfect Storm” of difficult project, dealing with the relocation company, organising the family, trying to sell the car, cancelling services, and making sure that what little money we had saved was properly moved out of the country before we left — I was an utter wreck at the end
• Ate far too many of our last meals in Costa Rica in a Denny’s
• Managed to survive the 19-hour ordeal of moving from Costa Rica; flying through Houston with a few bags, an irate cat in a bag, and a toddler hell-bent on doing her own thing; finally arriving in -18 degree weather in Calgary after 22:30 at night
• Moved back into a house we hadn’t seen in a year and a half, finding things we hadn’t seen in probably over three years
• Bought a 2006 Jetta TDI
• Critical Mass and I parted ways after about 9.75 years
• Landed a wonderful case of Benign Positional Vertigo on Boxing Day
• Realised that, yes, there are many things that Costa Rica has better than Canada … beyond the weather
• Rang in the new year year to come with a visit to the Calgary Zoo’s “Zoo Year’s Eve”, at -22 degrees Celsius

I’m missing easily a couple of months’ of detail in there, but the simple fact is that most of Q1 and Q2 last year were chaotic, busy, and stressful. I’m proud of what we all achieved, and I miss the people I left behind in Costa Rica. Time changes, and people have to change with them. As such, 2010 will be a year of change for me. I don’t see that as a bad thing, just that as with any human, change ain’t easy.

But change is exciting.

It’s not Costa Rica. It’s not always warm. It’s not filled with the sounds of parakeets, or tropical rainstorms, or filled with Spanish-speaking voices. This is the Great White North. It’s chilly for most of the year, leaves are seen for only five months, and the only monkeys you’ll see are at the zoo. It’s going to be an adjustment for you, and for Mommy and I, too.

It was a long road to get here.

The weekend before we left was a tough one. We had a lot of packing and cleaning to do before we could hand our keys back over to the apartment’s owner. After the fiasco with our previous apartment (no, Avalon, I have not forgotten you and the $1,500 you stole from us), Mommy and I wanted to make absolutely certain that there was nothing that would get in our way.

On Sunday, we left our last Costa Rican apartment, with help from Jason and Jenn Hale, and headed out to the Best Western Irazu. There, despite the hotel completely losing our reservation, we got a room with a nice bed for our last two nights in Costa Rica. We ate at the Denny’s there. It was a transition we needed, I think, a way of preparing for the day to come.

That day was Tuesday the 8th. It began at 4:00, when the alarm got us from our sleep (and you woke up with extreme difficulty). We ate at the Denny’s one last time, gathered our bags (and put Asia in her carrying bag), then boarded a bus for the airport. Checking in took probably three times longer than it should have, possibly due to the cat, and I’m convinced the clerk was brand new. Then came immigration (where they checked the “export” papers we had for you), and security (where they checked the export papers for Asia).

The flight was late leaving, by about 40 minutes. Murphy’s final little poke, I think. Soon, we were rolling down the runway, and the floor of the Central Valley disappeared beneath us as we lifted into the sky. I mumbled a little “adios, Costa Rica” as we drifted into the clouds. You took almost no notice at all. Asia was panicking.

The flight was about 3.5 hours to Houston. You slept a little, watched most of WALL-E on the iPod, and then wrestled both Mommy and I as we tried to get you buckled in for the landing. You would have nothing to do with either of us, and the screaming was enough to bring everyone to tears. Mommy held you tight as we landed. We would later hear from the flight attendants that your reaction is common amongst your age group.

Houston was surprisingly fast, all things considered. Immigration, zipped through customs (our bags were checked the whole way through), and security once again. We ate lunch at Ruby’s, I took Asia out for an hour in the pet relief area, we watched the rest of WALL-E and a couple episodes of Backyardigans. The five and a half hours disappeared fairly quickly, and you fell asleep while I held you for takeoff. You slept probably half of the flight to Calgary. (Which was wise, because a microwaved cheese dog is really not something you want to eat for dinner.)

Calgary was -18 upon arrival. “Chilly” is putting it mildly, since it was over 18 degrees when we’d left Costa Rica earlier that morning. Immigation took a while due to a very long lineup and having to go to the Customs desk to declare Asia’s papers for entry, as well as our stuff that’s being shipped from Costa Rica. It was almost 22:45 before we got to the Delta hotel, which is thankfully at the airport. It was our first run outside.

Your Great Aunt Brenda became a major hero, leaving us a package with a new pink parka for you (and gloves), as well as gloves and hats for Mommy and I. We spent little time settling, preferring to go right to bed. You had a queen bed all to yourself.

Be it ever so freezing, there’s just no place like home.

The biggest point, really, is still the car. Sigh. Our list now looks like this:

• Cancel our CableTica service
• Sell our car (currently trying, and having no luck at all)
• “Cancel” our phone (aka give it back to the company)
• Pack up the stuff we’re taking with us on the plane
• Have the rest of our stuff packed and shipped by slow banana boat (and I’m not really kidding about that — it probably is a banana boat) (Technically not done yet, but this starts in about 40 minutes.)
• Arrange for our utilities in Calgary (gas, electricity, water)
• Organise the times/dates for moving our stuff out of storage and back into our house
• Arrange for plane tickets
• Arrange for hotels for moving (we have to stay at least one night in CR and one night in Calgary), and it they have to take cats
• Get a rental car
• Then buy a car in Calgary (technically not done yet, but we’ve found a car and made arrangements with the dealer, and could buy it as soon as we arrive)
• Figure out how to get what money we’ve managed to save up north so we don’t try carrying it across the border (read: bad idea)
• Arrange for documentation to prove that we can take our daughter out of Costa Rica (no, I’m not kidding — Temporary Residents need this for some bizarre reason, even if both parents are present)
• Make sure we can get our cat back into Canada (read: find all the documentation we had from 18 months ago)
• Clean our apartment top-to-bottom
• Give away what we’re not taking back to friends (and other organisations)
• Say “goodbye” to the people we’ve come to know very well over the last year and a half (this is going to truly suck)
• Make sure we have clothes that are cold-weather appropriate (at least until all of our other clothing is out of storage)

This list is looking much better than it did a week ago. That’s not to say it came easily. There’s way too much stress involved with organising a relocation company that doesn’t seem to talk to itself or offer appropriate customer service (in my opinion, anyway). All part of the “fun”, though, right?

Oh, and we’ve also had to get more documentation for the cat,which we hadn’t been aware of. Thankfully, living here has made us realise that if you’re doing something without official government approval, chances are you’re doing it wrong.

(Oh, and if you’re looking at this on Facebook and thinking it looks like there’s nothing done, check out the original. Facebook drops the formatting.)

Our problem is not with Canada — all they need is a valid rabies vaccination, which we have. Our problem is not our airline (Continental) — we already have a reservation that allows us to take our cat. Our problem is with Costa Rica.

I’m so not surprised.

It hit us about a week or so ago that merely leaving the country with Asia wasn’t just a matter of having the airline say a pet was okay. There was the matter if we had documentation saying that she was okay. Wendy, our super-awesome travel agent, managed to find out that Continental needed a letter from a vet saying that Asia was fit to fly. No biggie.

So Alex trucked over to the veterinarian (conveniently located at the front of our condo complex) to get that sorted out. That’s when the complications came in. It wasn’t just as simple as a letter from the vet. Oh, no, that would be too easy. How quickly we forgot how much Costa Rica loves its bureaucracy! (Keep in mind that it took us over a year to get our temporary residency.)

No, to leave Costa Rica means that we need to have an export permit to take Asia. Export. Like she’s a Costa Rican product or something. This isn’t quite as bad as the fact that we also had to get a similar legal document so we could leave with our two year-old daughter! (That one has me at a level of disbelief that I can’t even fathom.)

[Insert rising panic here.]

This is not something you want to discover with a mere 11 days (now 10) remaining until you leave. Down here, things never happen quickly, and the word “urgent” (as spoken by a North American) never translates well.

Alex got the vet started on getting us a certificate, which could take — and I’m not joking — a week. This could get uuuuugly. We don’t have the luxury of delaying even a single day going home. We have too many things lined up to start the morning after we arrive, and the balls are already well in motion. I’m not saying we’re going to abandon Asia here (we’re not, just to make that abundantly clear), but it’s not going to make me in any way happy if things don’t go according to plan.

We even went through calling 10 different hotels before we could find one that would allow pets of any kind. That’s enough of an annoying snag. This current one is borderline catastrophic. (CATastrophic. Cat. Get it? Ha!)

I hate moving.

This morning’s dream was an exception. I was talking with someone I know (admittedly, can’t remember who it was) about trains. (Believe it or not, this is not an unknown conversation.) They asked me what my favourite train trips were, and I had said something like “whoa, that’s a tough one, let me think”. Then I started rhyming them off.

Oddly enough, that was about when I woke up … and I kept rhyming. So I figured, heck, that just sounds like a blog post!

Now these are in rough order of enjoyability and preference (if I had the opportunity to ride again). Though I should state that I would probably ride any of these again in a heartbeat, anyway. Some of these no longer run, however, so their appearance here is strictly archival.

1. VIA Rail Canadian Vancouver – Halifax (VIA Rail charter, not currently possible under regular scheduling)
   This will likely forever remain my favourite. I had the chance at a unique contract with the CBC, which ended up running coast-to-coast across Canada on a VIA Rail train made entirely of the 1940s Pullman stainless steel cars. There is just no better way to see Canada.
2. Trans-Siberian Railway Moscow – Irkutsk (Rossiyskie Zheleznye Dorogi)
   It’s hard to imagine that you can spend 5 days on a constantly-moving train running across a single country, and see almost nothing but vast openness and endless tracts of birch trees. There’s something magic, mystical, even mysterious about the journey.
3. Trans-Mongolian Railway Ulaan Baatar – Bejing (Mongolyn Tömör Zam, China Railways)
   The trip from Russia to Ulaan Baatar is okay. But the trip from Ulaan Bataar to Bejing is something else. First, the intense desolation of the Gobi Desert. Next, a rail gauge change in Inner Mongolia, followed by an overnight trip into the heart of China, passing through the Great Wall itself as you descend via switchback before finally arriving in Beijing. It’s a helluva trip.
4. Shanghai MagLev (Shanghai MagLev Transportation Development Corp.)
   Pure. Blinding. Speed. This train doesn’t go far — from the Pudong area near central Shanghai out to Pudong International Airport, the trip is a mere 30 km. But it travels the distance in just over seven minutes at speeds of up to 431 km/h.
5. The Cariboo Prospector (BC Rail, discontinued)
   Before BC Rail was bought by CN, they ran a passenger service between Prince George and Vancouver. It was an all-day trip, leaving early in the morning, and arriving well after dinner. But there was never a more fantastic trip through the Fraser Canyon, with more spectacular views of places you can’t get to by car. The service, sadly, no longer runs on BC Rail. A similar trip is available through the Rocky Mountaineer.
6. The Bras D’or Halifax – Sydney – Halifax (VIA Rail, discontinued)
   VIA Rail ran a slightly odd service (meant to promote tourism, but allowed for no stopover time) between Halifax, Nova Scotia and Sydney, Cape Breton. The trip ran along the shores of Bras D’or Lake, and in the fall ranks as one of the most beautiful trips I’ve seen. (The fact that I also got to ride in the cab just made it that much better.) Sadly, due to line maintenance issues, VIA Rail no longer runs this service.
7. Nozomi Shinkansen Tokaido Line, Tokyo – Osaka (JR West)
   The famous Bullet Train. This is the longest line, running from capital Tokyo to Osaka. The Nozomi-class trains have the fewest stops, hence run the fastest along the line, too.  Riding a Shinkansen is an experience, not just from the scenery, but from watching the sheer efficiency and pride in which the Japanese operate the service. Even riding in standard class makes you feel important.
8. Royal Hudson Vancouver – Squamish – Vancouver (BC Rail, no longer in scheduled operation)
   Before BC Rail had to take Hudson CP 2860 out of service (in need of a refit), I was fortunate enough to ride the train from Vancouver to Squamish and back. (And visited the West Coast Railway Association‘s Railway Heritage Park while I was at it.) The line running up the coast is full of wonderful twists and curves, and the view is fantastic. CP 2860 is now leased to the WCRA, who will hopefully run this service periodically with flair.
9. Alberta Prairie Steam Tours w/ CN 6060 (APST, I got to ride in the caboose, which regular folks don’t)
   Although it’s been a long time since I last helped out, I used to work on CN 6060 as an apprentice mechanic. After one such helping-out, I was offered a trip on its scheduled run — a mere 35 mile run to Big Valley and back. But I got to ride with my mentor, Don, in the caboose. Right next to CN 6060 on the way down, but at the end of the train on the way back. Very memorable, especially considering that I rode on a train pulled by CN 6060 when I was a young boy.
10. Inverness – Edinburgh (First ScotRail)
    This is a regularly-schedule service (multiple times a day, no less) between two of the three largest cities in Scotland. This service — a five-hour jaunt — runs through the Scottish highlands (you’ll see snow on those rolling mountains), through small villages, and across fantastic landscapes before coming down to the sea, and finally crossing the massive Fourth Bridge. Inverness itself is an excellent place to visit (very near Loch Ness!), and Edinburgh remains one of my favourite cities. It’s worth the trip, especially if you have a rail pass.
11. Krazny Strelya (“Red Arrow”) St. Petersburg – Moscow (Rossiyskie Zheleznye Dorogi)
    Curiously, I didn’t actually see much of this train. It was an overnight journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow. But I do remember it being an extremely nice train (apparently one of the two nicest on Russian railways), and it was the start of my St. Petersburg to Hong Kong overland odyssey. So it has a special place in my memory.
12. Montreal – Toronto (VIA Rail)
    This might sound extremely pedestrian, but I like this train. It’s a regular service (several times daily) that runs between two of Canada’s largest cities. It’s a 5-6 hour trip, which you can do faster if you fly. But you can’t do it more comfortably. And you don’t get to see the landscape that is the St. Lawrence Seaway region. It’s some of Canada’s oldest rail, and still some of the nicest.

These are the notable ones. There’s a host of other trains as well, such as commuter lines (GO Train, West Coast Express, BART, AMT, to name a few), local trains (such as most of Japan Rail, China’s Z1 line between Beijing and Tianjin, and certainly with the regional UK trains), and long distance trains within China, and the London – Glasgow/Edinburgh lines in the UK.

Since that covers most of my train-riding experiences, yes, you can assume that I generally quite line trains.

Are there ones I don’t like? Well, the one that comes most to mind is the section of the Trans-Siberian between Urkutsk and Ulan Ude. That is pretty darn lousy…

Thankfully, one of the other joys of life are grandparents. You’re lucky — you’ve got four of them. And you were very excited when Grandpa and Granny came down on Wednesday. It’s Grandpa’s third visit since we came to Costa Rica, and Granny’s second. You might see them nearly every day on Skype, but there’s just nothing like seeing them in person.

Despite the previous visits, neither of them had seen much beyond the Central Valley, although on their first trip, they flew into Liberia and took a bus to Santa Ana. That’s not much, sadly, and Mommy and I felt it was important that we take them elsewhere — some place to rest and relax. Besides, it’s Grandpa and Granny’s 20th wedding anniversary in a couple of weeks, and we wanted to give them something special.

So on Friday afternoon, the four of you picked me up from my office, and we went off for a weekend excursion. Though our first stop was for lunch at a nearby Peruvian restaurant called Chancay, in Plaza Rubi. You were quite energetic and ran circles around the tiled floors, squealing everywhich way you went. The woman tending the hot dog shop was particularly entertained.

We hit the highway afterwards, heading west towards San Ramón. You’ve been this way before several times, and I think you spent more time playing Grandpa than looking out the window. Well, at least until we hit that traffic near Animas — an accident had brought the Inter-American to a near-dead halt.

Mommy and I opted to leave the highway and take the secondary roads to get around the traffic (we had no particular desire to sit still when we could just as easily entertain a more scenic detour). It might not have been the wisest of choices — the drive from the intersection with #3 to Naranjo (where we rejoined the Inter-American) is normally about 20 minutes without traffic. It took us nearly two hours. But we did get to see Sarchi, which we hadn’t seen before, and a lot more of the countryside that Grandpa and Granny hadn’t seen before.

Once we got to San Ramón, we headed north to Los Angeles, and then out to Mommy and mine’s favourite place in Costa Rica (and currently my favourite place in the world), Villa Blanca. There are few places I know of that are more beautiful or peaceful.

Normally, Villa Blanca (at least by our experience) sits very much in the Los Angeles Cloud Forest. That means the area is usually shrouded in clouds, giving the area a very ethereal look.

This time, for some odd reason, there were no clouds. At all. I don’t know if it was a result of the Tropical Storm/Hurricane Ida that went up the coast a couple of days ago monkeying around with weather patterns, or if this is the normal state at this time of the year. At any rate, when we arrived, we could see clearly to Arenal, and even saw the top of that rather elusive volcano.

Mommy, you, and I had our own cabina, with Grandpa and Granny at the next cabin to ours. You were able to walk between them, and were often sent over to say “hi”, and get people ready to go for meals. You had your own bed, too, a nice cot that Villa Blanca set up for us. Sadly, you fell out of it on the first nice — twice — so the next day Mommy and I put the mattress on the floor so you could sleep more safely.

What did we do at Villa Blanca? That’s what Mommy and I like most about Villa Blanca — you don’t need to do anything but enjoy the area. You went for walks with Mommy and Granny, played with Grandpa, read, and tried to chase the coatis. You looked at all the wonderful flowers, stared at the intensely black skies at night and saw stars you’ll be hard-pressed to ever see in Calgary (unless there’s a total blackout), and ran about whenever you possibly could (which was pretty much always).

You even tried to have a bath with Mommy. But Mommy takes inhumanly hot baths, which you found out the hard way when you nearly did a head-first plunge into the tub.

On the Saturday morning, I took Grandpa ziplining. Mommy had gone ziplining at Villa Blanca back in May when Erin came down to visit, and it was time for me to try. I would have been upset if I’d left Costa Rica without ziplining at least once. And taking Grandpa with me sounded not only like a lot of fun, but perhaps also a little sadistic.

It turned out that Grandpa and I were the first customers in a few days who wanted to go on the canopy tour, and were the only ones going out that morning. We were picked up by our guides, Luis and Oliver, at the hotel and whisked about a kilometre away to the tour’s hut.

This wasn’t my first time ziplining. I’d done the zipline in Calgary at Canada Olympic Park. But that one is quite a bit different — it’s all about the massive drop from the ski jump, not travelling through the trees. This one is decidedly more calm, and probably a lot safer (despite travelling through tree tops).

I made Grandpa go first, though he didn’t seem to mind one bit. And as near as I could tell, he enjoyed himself quite a lot, too. Even when we dropped vertically from one platform to another, hanging free. I can only hope that I have as much fun as Grandpa when I get into my later years.

We stayed for two nights, and left mid-morning on the Sunday. My idea was fairly simple: in addition to Villa Blanca, we’d also go on a coffee tour in Naranjo. My friend Mark (of Mark and Denise fame) had recommended a tour in Naranjo, and we’d seen the signs during out detour on Friday. We arrived at the Espiritu Santo coffee plantation just before noon, just avoiding a rather large tour that was just departing.

Espiritu Santo is one of an increasing number of coffee-growing collectives in Costa Rica. The colonial past of massive plantation owners gave way to smaller farms, which were then exploited by coffee buyers. The smaller farms have now grown into collectives, using their position to bypass the middlemen and go direct to the customers. In Espiritu Santo’s case, 90% of their coffee is sold direct to Starbucks.

The tour was small — the five of us, plus another ex-pat and his friend from the United States. We started in a covered patio where we sample four types of their coffee: dark, light, house, and peaberry. I drank far too much of the coffee, myself (I had a splitting headache today, and felt quite ill as a result). You drank almost as much as I did, but seemed to have very little affect on you — well, except for not sleeping at all until your bedtime tonight, that is.

After the coffee sampling (which is usually at the end), we went into the outer edges of the coffee fields. Our guide, whose name I can’t remember now, explained that the area is geologically a “failed volcano”, which explains its hilliness, volcanic-type soils, but lack of a defined peak or caldera. The hills were something to see with the neat rows of coffee plants. I wished I had the ability to take more detailed pictures of it, but someone had to keep and eye on you.

I learned a little more from Espiritu Santo’s tour than I had with the Doka coffee tour. Namely that while harvest season is November to February, it’s not a constant harvest. In fact, it only happens four times — once a month for four months. And all of the harvest needs to be processed in one day to prevent any fermentation of the seeds that will eventually become the coffee bean.

The afternoon storms were starting to roll in as we started, and Mommy quickly ran back to the car for her jacket and an umbrella. But the tour guides produced umbrellas for us, too. You held onto the one you and I shared (you were on my shoulders most of the tour), and later held it totally on your own.

We visited the processing machinery, which — at least to me — seemed so much simpler (and less interesting) than Doka’s water-powered, turn-of-the-previous-century machines. The guide explained that afterwards, the beans are taken up to an old runway (the former plantation owners were quite wealthy) where they are dried before shipping. Only some is kept for local consumption, which is roasted in-house.

The tour also featured an historic reconstruction of a typical farmhouse, where the guide explained farm life, and how Costa Rican coffee is traditionally made (which you already know — the chorreador). After that, it was up to the gift shop (of course). You played with a marimba that I know both Mommy and I considered getting for you.

Thus ends what will likely be our last trip here in Costa Rica. The next time we head out from our apartment, it will likely be to head to the airport. It’ll be hard, for all of us, as it’ll be a major change in our life.

But that’s what life is, Monkey — change. Change isn’t something to be avoided, it’s something to be embraced. It’s something to enjoy as much as you can. Because the alternative — stagnation — is really, really, really boring.

We’ve been to the Pacific side a few times now, and we’ve done the “middle” parts in between, even just a little. (Sadly, we’ll probably not be able to do the more southern parts. Or see pretty much anything else, if my job ends up being the way it’s looking.) It would have been pretty silly not to see at least both coasts.

And with our impending departure in a couple of months, we were running out of time to do it.

Last week was a short work week, and I managed to steal four days away from work so we could hit the sand and jungle. Mommy and I went through dozens of different places to see and stay, and finally decided on a place called Playa Chiquita. (“Chiquita”, for the record, has nothing to do with the banana. It’s Spanish for “petite”. Which is pretty apt — Playa Chiquita ain’t that big.)

We packed enough things for four days: Tuesday through Friday, and hit the road. (We’d wanted to leave earlier, originally, but we had a Thanksgiving Day event with the Canadian Club on Sunday, and Mommy wasn’t feeling very well on Monday.) It turned out to be for the best, as I think if we’d tried to stay a sixth day, Mommy or I would have officially gone a little crazy. (You won’t remember this, but there are a lot of biting bugs on the Caribbean side.)

The drive from Santa Ana — where we live — to the Caribbean coast is an odd one. Although it is surprisingly easy, far easier than driving to the Pacific coast, it takes quite some time. Partly because once you leave San José, the Highway 36 travels to the north before bending east through Braulio Carrillo National Park — a windy road that must climb and descend a few hundred metres in its course. The road is, at least, two-laned for the uphill portions, unlike the Highway 1 through the mountains to Puntarenas.

But from the Park to the coast is still over 100 kilometres away. A short drive in Canada, maybe, but even on what I would consider to be the best long-distance road I’ve driven in this country, it still took two hours to reach the port city of Límon. The worst part about the drive was just all the produce trucks.

East of the Central Valley is prime agricultural land. While I doubt it’s what gave Costa Rica its name, it’s certainly a major part of Costa Rica’s economy. Out there are endless fields of pineapple and banana plantations.

As far as I know, most of them are owned by either the Chiquita Brands company (formerly known as United Fruit) or Dole Foods (a result of various mergers and renamings, but contains the former Standard Fruit Company). Neither have a particularly good humanitarian history, and are largely responsible for the term “banana republic”. These companies — or companies like them (I’m unclear as to which it is) — have a tendency to worry about their crops first, and anything else second. Including those people who work the fields. Spraying pesticides from planes while workers were in the fields, and children were in company-run schools was still common only a few years ago.

We drove south from Límon until we got to a small town called Beverly, at which point I accidentally zigged when I should have zagged. (I blame the long-knocked-over road signs.) Thankfully, Mommy got us back on the right south heading south.

The coastal road to Puerto Viejo wasn’t too bad. A little bumpier, but relatively easy. About five or six kilometres short of Puerto Viejo? Gravel. And it’s like that for most of the road south to the Panama border, although oddly broken up by paved sections that are often heavily pot-holed. All-in-all, it was just shy of five hours to get to Tierra del Sueños, our cabina for the first three nights.

Tierra del Sueños is a little eight cabin hideaway carved out of the Playa Chiquita jungle, run by a pair of young Gringos, Angie and Brendan. They run a simple place about 200 metres from the beach (you have to walk down the road, and then along a narrow path through the jungle to get to it) that has little more than a bed, running water, and electric lights. Everything else is pretty basic. It was a really nice change from some of the places we’ve stayed before.

Dinner that night was at a place just down the road called Jungle Love, also owned and run by gringos (we would find out that most of Playa Chiquita seems to be inhabited by ex-pats from many countries). Although a bit pricey, the meal was fantastic, and because we were the only ones there for the first little while, we got quite a lot of attention.

It began to rain not long after we got back. And not a little rain — we’re talking Caribbean coast downpour. And as we found out, our aluminium roof not only shielded us from the rain, but also made an otherwise lovely sound of rain-on-roof turn into a tremendous racket. That night, you also slept on a big bed with Mommy — I slept on a mattress on the floor. I didn’t sleep, and neither did Mommy. You slept like a rock.

Howler monkeys woke us up the next morning before 5:00. We struggled to try sleep some more, but you would have none of it, of course. (Something about your tree-borne cousins, I can only presume.) With the rain having stopped, the only “reasonable” thing to do before breakfast (at 8:00) was to walk to the beach. We didn’t go to swim, just to look. The rain returned as we returned to the cabin.

At breakfast, we had a conversation with Angie and Brendan, while you got introduced to their two dogs, Cody and Ginger. (You LOVED being licked by Ginger, and I think as a result Ginger followed us a lot.) They suggested we go on a chocolate tour that afternoon, which sounded like a great idea, presuming the rain stopped by then.

With all the rain, there wasn’t a lot to do, so I took you into Puerto Viejo for a look-see. Despite being after 10:00 in the morning, very little was open. You were asleep even before we got into town, and remained asleep until we were back at the cabina parking. We had a snack at La Casa Del Pan’s Playa Chiquita location, where we would also have lunch with Mommy. (I ate far, far too much that day.)

After lunch, we drove the short distance to ChocoRart, an organic craft cacao plantation that offers tours (on reservation only, which Angie was very kind to arrange for us). We were met at the parking lot, led up a hill and past a stand of bamboo to wait in a … well, it looked like less-dense jungle. There we waited until our guide, Marcus — also ChocoRart’s owner and operator — came to meet us. He came armed with a machete and a long staff with a hooked end that sort of looked like a flattened metal rubber duck.

He gave us a brief history of cacao farming, and told us how cacao had once been much larger in Costa Rica than it is now. But a fungus (I’m not sure which one it was) started spreading and largely wiped out the industry. (Depending on whom you ask, the fungus was either introduced accidentally, or the aforementioned ill-behaving fruit companies let it loose to lower the cost of cacao land so they could buy it for their own needs. Naturally, there is no proof either way.) The fungus still exists, and it’s a lot of work to keep it from healthy trees.

Marcus has about 300 producing trees, and probably hundreds more “wild” trees that he doesn’t maintain. Not that you can readily tell which is which — unlike every farm I’ve been to, there were no markers, no clear delineation, and only a worn path through the grasses showed you where to go.

The cacao pods are the size of a small football, and contain the cacao beans inside. The beans themselves are covered in a white fleshy covering that has a notably tangy citrus flavour (though you don’t actually bite into the bean at this point). The pods are harvested (we were there at roughly harvest time), and then allowed to ferment for a few days. The beans, separated from the pods, are then dried in the sun (whenever possible, given that it rains a lot on the coast), and eventually sent for roasting and processing.

ChocoRart’s equipment seemed … well, not so much “quaint” as “antiquated”. But Marcus was adamant that nothing else was truly needed. The bulk of the work was tending the trees.

We finally reached the roasting hut, where we saw the small fire with the small (but heavy) cast-iron wok where a previous batch of beans were already roasting away. The smell was … well, if you’ve ever had pure cacao, you might have an idea of what it might have smelled like. After roasting, the beans were shelled with a large rock, and with a fan, the nibs (the cracked pit of the bean) were separated from the shell. It’s the same process every large company uses, too.

The nibs are then ground, which releases the oils, creating a thick brown paste of cacao. Mixed with a little water and a wee bit of spice, you get — duh — cacao. And it’s pretty darn tasty when it’s utterly fresh. (We all had small cups of it.) You loved it, Monkey. You just couldn’t stop licking your lips.

Cane juice is then carmelised and reduced, and mixed together with the cacao paste (the bigger companies do this, too — it’s called “conching”). We were served this while still hot, with a spoon, and a slices of banana. It was gritty — not the smooth chocolate common after many hours of mixing — but absolutely fabulous. It might forever change the way I love my chocolate.

We then had a chance to buy his products — short, round bars of flavoured “chocolate” that is hand-rolled. (We’ve already eaten all of it.) It wasn’t cheap, but it was utterly worth it. We had to be quick, though — you were hitting the ultimate chocolate high and were threatening to stair-dive down the very steep hill.

And that was just our first day!

You slept on the bed that night with Mommy, but fell off the side. Thanks to the mosquito netting, you didn’t “fall” so much as “slid”. You didn’t even wake up. I pulled you onto the mattress, got you sorted out, and then I slept on the bed with Mommy. (The last night there, you went right onto the mattress. We called it a “princess bed”.)

Next day? Beach day. You weren’t particularly thrilled with it at first (Mommy and I weren’t thrilled that Cody and Ginger followed, and then wouldn’t leave us alone), but you quickly changed your tune. You would love the beach, and hate to leave it.

The howler monkeys we’d kept hearing were in the trees above the pathway as we walked home, but weren’t in a howling mood at the time. You pointed and giggled happily, chanting “mono” and “monkey” (I think you’re finally understanding that the words mean the same thing). Thankfully, they’re not poo-flingers.

Lunch at La Casa Del Pan again, but dinner at Azaria (one of the other places we’d looked at), which was also very good. You enjoyed running around quite a lot.

Following breakfast on Friday morning, we moved up the road towards Puerto Viejo, and checked into Cariblue. A nice enough place, but I quickly remembered why I don’t like typical beach resorts — they all have the same campy look, over-priced food, and over-rated services. Bonus? You got to see “papa frogs” (what you call the green and black poison dart frog), Halloween crabs, and even a sloth!

Well, that and a beach, too, of course.

You had your own bed that night. A real bed.

The next morning, we packed up to head home. But we didn’t go much further past Puerto Viejo, and turned southwest towards the town of Bribri, and the Bribri indigenous reserve. Mommy’s friend Rebecca lives there now, and we wanted to see where she lived, and the things she had been doing for the last few months.

Once we passed through the town of Bribri, we turned onto a stone-laden road (it wasn’t even gravel) and drove for what seemed like a mistaken set of directions-length of time. After over 30 minutes, we arrived near the town of Suretka, and the house of Louisa and Solomon. There we found how their family, who live on the reserve, work to live off the land and hope that their efforts to drive tourism one day work in their favour.

You played for a while with their children, Allison and David, and with their toys (you particularly liked David’s fire engine). We drank some limonade, and toured the buildings. Then Rebecca took us on a long drive down a road that ran through rivers before we got to Bambú, and the Bambú Indigenous Cultural Centre.

The Cultural Centre is a place where visitors (usually university students) come to see what eco-tourism and indigenous tourism looks like. The Cultural Centre itself is set up like the traditional housing (even though almost everyone these days is in much more familiar walls-and-ceiling western-style buildings). Then Rebecca directed us back to Bribri where we dropped her off.

The drive back home was actually easier than the drive out, though it took probably about as long. It was good to be home, to see Asia again (she ran from your squealing), and sleep in our own beds. If nothing else, a sign of a good vacation.

Sadly, Monkey, my vacation is now over and I have to go back to work tomorrow. I hope that you have some memory of this trip that you can remember years from now. If not, though, we certainly have more than enough pictures of it all.

The sun shone bright on our next morning