The Feisty Traveler - A Quirky Memoir

by Lil Cromer

  Marloes told us about the two oldest prostitutes, twin sisters called the Fokken sisters. These Jewish women are seventy-one and still working. When I came home I found a documentary called “Meet the Fokken Sisters” on Netflix with Dutch subtitles. What a hoot these two sisters are! One of them married an abusive husband who beat her and insisted she become a prostitute, so the other sister joined her. They are considering retirement as arthritis is preventing them from assuming several positions.

  While in Heidelberg we got word of ISIS bombings at Brussels airport. Sure glad I decided to skip the post trip in Bruges, Belgium. Flying out of Amsterdam there was more traffic due to the Brussels airport being closed. Also heightened security was noticeable; gun toting guards, sniffing dogs and profiling. The staff at Amsterdam airport were courteous and efficient.

  Seated next to me on the plane back to the US was a large swarthy guy who I figured for a terrorist after all the publicity surrounding the bombings in Brussels. He slept most of the flight for which I was grateful. Turns out he was from Portugal and flying to Indianapolis on business then on up to Alaska — a nice young man.

  Chapter 12

  Canada

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  Travel engages us with the world — it teaches us new ways to measure quality of life

  Years ago Hal and I traveled by car up to Ontario and Québec to visit friends and neighbors. For years we lived in a mobile home park with the majority of owners and seasonal residents being Canadian, so it was only natural to a take a summer and travel up there. The towns and cities I can recall are Aurelia, Ottawa, Montreal, Québec City, Toronto and Peterborough. Since this was before I began keeping a journal, there’s not much to report here. I do recall learning to play darts at the Canadian Legion in Aurelia, the beauty and cleanliness of Ottawa, the quaintness of Québec City, the gorgeous view from the CN tower in Toronto, the manicured golf courses in Peterborough and the fact that our hotel in Montreal had the audacity to charge fifty cents for a teeny bucket of ice.

  Canadian Rockies — 2007

  This trip started in Sioux Falls, SD, a fine little city that typifies what America is all about – good decent, law-abiding people with a good work ethic. I walked from the hotel to take a look at Falls Park which hosts a series of small waterfalls over granite rocks.

  The Royal Canadian Mounted Police Academy near Regina, Saskatchewan is set on beautiful acreage studded with many buildings. It’s a training ground for recruits. We took a look inside the chapel, which was originally the Mess Hall. After it burned down the end of the 1800s, it was restored and converted to the chapel. We spent the night at a hotel down the road in a town called Moose Jaw. The staff couldn’t have been more accommodating, providing drinks and food which was appreciated after a long day on the bus. They were some of the nicest people I’ve ever met.

  I bonded with one of my fellow travelers, a character from the east coast of Florida. At each overnight stop, while the rest of the travelers were waiting to retrieve their bags (see letter to YMY below regarding the lazy bus driver), she and I headed to the bar as it was usually cocktail hour. We met and interacted with some of the locals, learning about them rather than running to our respective rooms. Here is where I sampled my first Kokanee beer and continued drinking the rest of the tour whenever it was available.

  This was my first view of the Canadian Rockies. I was more accustomed to the Great Smokey Mountains, what a contrast! These mountains were formidable to say the least, barren of trees and peaked with snow.

  When we got off the bus and rounded the corner at Lake Louise, I dropped my jaw. The view was so breathtaking I couldn’t stop staring. It was fortunate that my camera card had plenty of space. Couldn’t resist walking through the impressive Chateau Lake Louise where rooms started at $350 per night. Banff was a bit on the touristy side for me, kind of reminded me of Gatlinburg, TN.

  Awesome Lake Louise

  A spectacular ice field in the Columbia Icefields, on a cold, rainy, windy day proved to be an adventure. We got off the heated bus and walked out onto the thick glacier which was reported to be 1000 feet deep. The chilling, frigid air only allowed for a short walk, but we snapped lots of photos and sited a couple of coyotes and a family of deer, which seemed to be everywhere.

  One day we drove into Lethbridge Kananaskis Park in Alberta. Can only remember two things about this area, the folks in the Prince Edward Hotel in the small town of Lethbridge were not as pleasant as most Canadians. And they turned a water tower into a restaurant 150 feet in the air, an architectural marvel. It proved to be a unique dining experience. A couple of locals shared their bottle of wine with us as his wife was pregnant and not drinking.

  Montana is unimpressive as a whole and the folks don’t give a hoot about newspapers. Try as I might, I could not buy a newspaper. We stopped at a huge two story truck stop and there were no newspapers, not even the ever-prevalent USA Today. Driving along the bus driver pulled over to let us get a close-up look at a large pack of prairie dogs, funny little burrowing rodents.

  I was anxious to visit Deadwood, SD because the popular, award-winning mini-series of the same name had recently aired on TV. I can still hear the cast throwing around “cocksucker” and see Calamity Jane smitten with Wild Bill Hickok. Unfortunately they’ve ruined the quaint little town by commercializing it. Historical buildings like the Bullock Hotel and Saloon #10 where Hickok was shot have been turned into casinos.

  No visit out in the Rockies would have been complete without a stop at Mt. Rushmore. The original Indian name of this mountain was Six Grandfathers. We were able to come back and view this huge monument at night, it was awesome. Although the initial concept called for each president to be depicted from head to waist, lack of funding forced construction to end in late 1941 with only the busts. Afterwards we traveled to the Crazy Horse monument, a work in progress. We met Mrs. Ruth Ziokowski, the widow of the Polish sculptor who began this project in 1948. Since his death in 1982 the project has been under the direction of the non-profit Crazy Horse Foundation. The funding is private and overseen by Ruth and their ten kids. No date of completion has been set.

  Dear YMT Customer Service,

  After completing my first YMT vacation, I feel compelled to offer the following critique.

  Incidents that occurred in Sioux Falls at the orientation, August 18th, pretty well set the tone for the rest of the trip. Cheryl, YMT rep, handled the orientation in a most unprofessional manner. She called out the names asking the folks how they got to Sioux Falls, on their own or through YMT. Which begs the question, why wasn’t this information in her hands? When I discovered my friends Al and Gina were on a different bus, I attempted to effect a change after the poor orientation. Arvin Anderson, bus driver, roster in hand, bluntly told me that changing the passenger list would create problems both at the border and at every hotel stop. Since he was not willing to rectify this issue, I turned to Cheryl and said, “This is not our fault but a glitch at YMT and is unacceptable.” Cheryl agreed to call her boss and straighten it out. Meanwhile I located a couple, scheduled on bus 2, who agreed to swap. I filled out new luggage tags for both couples and new name tags then told Arvin. He reiterated this was going to cause huge problems. During the night Cheryl solved the problem. My friends and I were on bus 2, which was fortunate as bus 3 frequently stayed at different hotels.

  The morning of departure Arvin loaded the baggage in a rain storm sans a jacket or poncho. All morning, while driving, he complained about being wet and chilled. During the entire trip he either talked incessantly or played videos or music leaving no quiet time for napping or meditating. His habit of announcing plans, departure times, and itinerary a day or two in advance caused major confusion among the passengers. His repetitions became a source for great comedy; if we heard this was his 60th trip to the Canadian Rockies once, we heard it twenty-five times. His high anxiety level peaked at the border crossing where his constant chatter totally ceased when the alternator failed. No instructions w
ere given on restroom locations causing a huge jam at the gift shop.

  The cost of the trip included baggage handling, yet Arvin begged for help with the bags. Those of us who elected not to take our bags to our rooms were made to feel we were imposing on a seventy year old man. We arrived at the Sandman Hotel in Lethbridge at 5:30 — my bag was still in the lobby at 7:00. Arvin did not assist passengers off and on the bus and a few handicapped travelers would have appreciated assistance. Four passengers joined the tour in North Dakota. Arvin made no attempt to learn their names or most of the others. His habit of counting 51 heads after each stop instead of counting the three empty seats had most of us scratching our heads.

  Chaos reigned at several hotels when all three buses arrived together, the worst being at Moose Jaw. By then Arvin had his “bagmen” trained; they unloaded all the bags on the sidewalk while Arvin went inside the hotel, only to have Arvin put them all back in the bus and drive around back so we didn’t clog up the lobby.

  Most of the hotels were adequate and a few superlative like the Radissons as well as the Holiday Inn in Sioux Falls. The Billings Hotel and the Sandman in Lethbridge were second rate at best. Arvin prejudiced the passengers by running down the Heritage Inn in Moose Jaw which proved more than adequate with professional and accommodating staff.

  The most disturbing aspect of the tour was the condition of the coach. A huge crack in the windshield, missing sun shades, spasmodic microphone and TV monitors were minor compared to worn tires, non-working windshield wipers, a faulty alternator and air conditioner failure in the Badlands. This coach obviously belonged in the maintenance shed not on a 3500+ mile journey — questioning YMT’s choice of Formen Charters. The floor of the bus was not swept during the entire two week tour.

  David, the guide from White Mountain Adventures, who we picked up at Canmore proved to be an excellent commentator. He was both witty and knowledgeable. It would have been wonderful to have him on board the entire trip. It appeared a bit niggardly on YMT’s part not to include the $10.60 entrance fee to Olympic Park in the cost of the tour. My cynical nature questioned some of the stops as well as “O Canada, Eh” and the group photo at Mt. Rushmore.

  I overheard several passengers ask why a roster of fellow travelers was passed out at the end of the trip rather than at the beginning. Also, it would have been helpful to receive maps at the beginning of the tour rather than on day eight.

  When the coach limped into Sioux Falls with a load of hot tired travelers, I discovered my bag was missing. Turned out to be on bus 1. When I kidded Stu about it he gruffly replied, “Get over it!” This was not the first incident of misplaced bags causing me to wonder if the bus drivers are color blind. The morning of departure at the end of the trip, I discovered Cheryl asleep on a couch in the lobby — most unprofessional.

  Several of my fellow travelers have taken YMT vacations previously and were very satisfied; they claimed there was no comparison with this disappointing tour.

  This was my first YMT vacation and probably my last. Having paid the obscene single supplement, I expected a professional operation. You might consider contracting with a mystery shopping provider to be your eyes and ears and anonymously assess your tours.

  Sincerely, Lil Cromer

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  Canadian Maritimes & New England — 2012

  Only four Canadian Provinces were left on my bucket list, so here was the chance to cross off Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick leaving only Newfoundland for another time; maybe in 2017. A good friend has offered a tour of his homeland and I just may take him up on it. We started this journey in Boston where I arrived two days before joining the tour to explore on my own.

  Boston is sometimes called a “city of neighborhoods” because of the profusion of diverse subsections; there are twenty-one official neighborhoods in Boston. It’s the capital of MA and covers 48.43 square miles, estimated population of 625K. It was founded by the Puritans in the 1600s and the site of the famous Boston Tea Party, Boston Massacre, the midnight ride of Paul Revere, and the Battle of Bunker Hill. Boston is nicknamed, “The Walking City.” We took a walking tour on the Freedom Trail, including the Old North Church famous for Paul Revere’s message “One if by land and two if by sea.” This old church had the most unique “pews” I’ve ever seen. They were like 6’ x 6’ boxes or stalls maybe four feet high with a door. Each box was owned by a family who brought in their own furniture and heaters.

  Boston is the site of the first public school and the first subway. There are some sixty colleges and universities here, bringing $10 million into the economy each year. Our city guide took us on a tour of the Harvard yard, or as the locals call it the “Hahvad yahd.” The university boasts a student body of 10K and costs around $50K each year to attend. Romney graduated in three years, quite a feat according to our guide. Graduation is outside in the yard rain or shine, which prompted one father of a graduate to remark, “Now I know what it means to soak the rich.”

  I asked young folks what they like the best about living in Boston which is a culturally diverse city, most answered, “There’s lots to do here.” I stopped by Cheers, the replica and what a tourist trap. The original is on Beacon Hill and I’m sure equally as touristy.

  Boston is a leading financial center and has one of the highest costs of living in the country. A small one bedroom apartment rents for $1800 per month. Despite cost of living issues, Boston ranks high on livability ratings, ranking 36th worldwide in quality of living.

  Catholics make up the largest religious community and the Irish dominate the ethnic groups at nearly 16% of the population. I asked one of Boston’s Finest, a rotund Irishman, directions — he grudgingly provided them with an air of “dumb tourists.”

  Boston Common, located near the Financial District and Beacon Hill, is the oldest public park in the United States. There are more Duncan Donuts (111) in Boston than Starbucks (55); one third of them owned by Bain Capital.

  While walking around Beacon Hill, our guide pointed out John Kerry’s townhouse and related the following. His wife was issued a citation for parking in front of a fire hydrant right outside their front entrance. The Kerrys paid $76K to have it moved around the corner. Right across the street sits the townhouse owned by Louisa Mae Alcott, which is still owned by a descendent. Several of the streets in Beacon Hill are private and maintained by the folks who live on them. Parking is a nightmare here.

  Boston took Interstate 93 that ran through the city and buried it in underground tunnels. It’s called the “Big Dig,” and opened in 2003. Topside they created parks giving the city an uncluttered look.

  Faneuil Hall (fannal) often referred to as the “Cradle of Liberty” has been a marketplace and meeting hall since 1742. It was the first town hall in Boston and leading up to the American Revolution the meeting room on the second floor was the scene of many meetings where Bostonians voiced their dissent against the oppressive policies of the British Parliament. The hall still provides a forum for debates on issues today. I took a subway down there and visited Quincy’s Market as well, which must be the world’s largest upscale food court. I discovered that there are a few archaic laws in Boston, for example, happy hours are outlawed and wait staff is only allowed to serve ONE drink at a time to a patron. So if you wanted a shot with a beer chaser, you’re served the shot first and then you’re served the beer. Don’t understand the reasoning there.

  And we can’t forget the famous Boston Red Sox who play at Fenway Park a stone’s throw from my hotel. I arrived right after the baseball season ended. The Boston Marathon is run every year the same day as a Red Sox home game, which starts at 11:05, the only MLB game to start before noon.

  Portland is the largest city in Maine with a population of around 67K. The city motto is “I will rise again,” which refers to Portland’s recoveries from four devastating fires in 1866 that left thousands homeless. It was the state capital before it was moved to Augusta.

  Tourists typically visit Portland
’s historic Old Port district along the harbor and I was no exception. This port is noted for being the site of the building of Liberty Ships during WW II. I shocked some local old gent and his wife by knowing the answer to why this port was famous.

  Local lore holds that Portland ranks among the top U.S. cities in restaurants and bars per capita with 230 restaurants. It’s interesting to note that Maine manufactures most of the toothpicks for the world. There are some seventy lighthouses along the coast of Maine. We visited the smallest one in Portland nicknamed the Bug Light.

  Portland is home to numerous microbreweries and brewpubs which are popular tourist spots due to the presence of on-site bars for tasting the final product; I enjoyed myself tasting numerous lagers. It was hard to put a finger on which was the best, they all tasted good to me. While Portland is the birthplace of the “Italian sandwich,” I filled up on chowder, fish and lobster. Here I must mention the lobster roll; a unique sandwich consisting of an open faced roll filled with lobster salad. The true version is only lobster and a little mayo, no celery, onions or any other filler.

  The Preacher’s Wife and Message in a Bottle were filmed in Portland. It’s the birthplace of Stephen King, Bob Marley, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

  Nova Scotia is an island that’s shaped like a lobster, the second smallest province, and half the size of Ohio. The name means New Scotland. Talk about diversity: native Mi Kmaqs-French-Scots-Germans-Poles-Jews-Blacks-Ukranians-Italians-Lebanese-Greeks call Nova Scotia home. It’s interesting to note that you do not refer to the natives as Indians but as First Nations.