Vancouver Vs. Warsaw: trains, planes and automobiles edition

It’s hard for me to imagine a city that is harder to get around than Vancouver. Partly this is because I haven’t lived in too many cities and partly it is because some 19th century dolt didn’t foresee the rise of the automobile and the growth of the city and decided to build the city’s core on a hard-to-reach peninsula. If Surrey were the core it would be much easier to get around. But then you’d have to go to Surrey.

Whatever the case, as a trip to Stanley Park yesterday showed, Vancouver traffic is hell. It’s bus system is decent but curbside parking means the buses are slower than a kid who’s been dropped on his head one time too many. They also don’t have the same variety of routes as, say, Warsaw, where nary a street is untouched by the city’s bus system.

Vancouver’s Skytrain system has more stations than Warsaw, but the trains are positively puny by comparison, indicative of a smaller number of users. Unfortunately, the aforementioned geography of Vancouver means that the most used stations are packed at the end of the lines. Ideally, of course, you would like the centre of the line to be the city centre, as in Warsaw.

Of course, Vancouver will soon complete its Canada Line, which will extend Skytrain service to Richmond and the airport. Contrast this with Warsaw, where commuter’s to the city’s Prague district on the other side of the Vistula river cannot take the metro. Drivers must instead navigate clogged bridges (like in Vancouver). Mass transit commuters can take (relatively fast) trams or buses.

To reach Warsaw’s outer limits from the city centre, one should expect to spend about 45 minutes in the metro and/or on the bus. To cross the city north-south would take (I’m really guessing) about 90 minutes. East-west I really have no idea but on a bus, I would guess about 100 minutes.

In Vancouver, to get anywhere from downtown will take you about an hour, if not more. From downtown to Port Coquitlam last week at about 3 p.m. it took about 80 minutes. It usually takes me about 40 minutes on metro and bus to get to my home in Central Vancouver.

An unlimited monthly transit pass in Warsaw costs about 75 zloty (about $30). In Vancouver, a one-zone, limited pass costs about $75 (about $75).

Verdict: Warsaw, but mostly due to Vancouver’s unfortunate (albeit, beautiful) geography.

Tarifa, tarrifs and sea sickness

We stayed the night in Tarifa because it was where the ferry dropped us off.

The ferry. Oh, right.

The train from Rabat left the station late and arrived in Tangiers 25 minutes late. That left us, oh, about 10 minutes to get from the train station to the ferry terminal, which we knew was in the general direction of the sea, and that was about that.

We didn’t have too much choice among taxis so we took the first who showed up and, after he admitted another ferry-goer, sped us off towards the terminal. Everything actually went smoothly (at least before we boarded). Hopped out of the taxi, ran to an ATM, took out money, ran back to the ticket booth/shack/cargo container, then up, through what passed for security and customs and onto the large ferry.

The supposed-to-be 450minute trip cost us about one Euro for every minute, or one Euro for every person puking during the ensuing ride. Huge waves caused the fast ferry (they may have bought it from B.C.) to turn, heave and groan under the stress. The sound of crashing glasses and bottles started coming from the on-board bar.

It was  bad, and only got worse once we approached the port as our forward momentum slowed and the motion of the ocean heaved us horizontally up and down.

We finally arrived 25 minutes late, which is to day, 20 minutes after many of the passengers had ejected their lunches into little plastic baggies.

Tarifa was nice, though. Beautiful beaches.

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Vancouver versus Warsaw

I know what you’re thinking. Like millions around the world, you’re wondering whether you want to live in Vancouver or Warsaw. I know, it’s a difficult choice, but with some help, maybe you’ll get through.

Like I posted earlier, every person is liable to like, or dislike, a city based on their own preferences and hobbies. But I’ll take a stab at it.

First up, and because I don’t have much time to write right now, the sun and the sky:

The weather, from my own limited experience, is a draw. Warsaw can be warm in the summer, as can Vancouver. Given that I’ve never experienced a Warsaw summer, I don’t think I can compare the two sunny seasons. But I have seen both cities in the winter and neither one is particularly attractive. Both are rainy, grey and dreary. Warsaw gets a little more snow, which can be good or bad, but Vancouver gets a lot more rain, which is definitely bad. On the other hand, Warsaw is quite a bit further north, which means that even when you can see the sun, it dips before the flat horizon before 4 p.m. in winter.

I was going to give Vancouver the point because you can easily retreat into the interior of B.C. to soak up sun or snow. But then I realized that while Poland itself may not be as climatically diverse as B.C., the good transportation links that link Warsaw with, say, Milan, even the field once again.

So a draw it is.

Playing chicken

Since it strikes me that I only posted once from our last trip in Europe/Africa, the following anecdote comes from our travels in Morocco.

The white walls of Rabat’s medina, or inner city, are quintessentially Mediterranean, with sea air (albeit, from the Atlantic Ocean) meshing with a million different smells, not always good. Unlike many counterparts, Rabat’s centreville is laid out in a grid pattern. Above it sits the Kasbah, which, with its blue and white walls is undoubtedly one of the finest sites in Morocco. But it’s empty. Below, in the medina, people are are crowded but generally friendly and the prices are good. It was there that we came across a series of quaint little stores, where locals could buy everything, from toilet paper to meat.

And some of the meat was quite fresh. Really fresh.

You know that joke you tell when you’re in a restaurant and your food is taking a while? “Are they killing the chicken?” you might ask. That’s not a joke you would tell in Rabat. Because it might be true. As we passed one butcher shop as the sun set in Rabat we looked to our left to see a man holding a fully-feathered chicken on a digital scale for a woman customer. And the chicken, which lay on its head in what was very clearly not a comfortable position, was squawking.

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Later, after the aforementioned Tangine dinner (boiled chicken and potatoes in a painted clay dish with a round bottom and pointed roof, like a party hat), we walked down the main drag where street sellers were hawking various counterfeit CDs, sunglasses and T-shirts. As we walked we heard a yell.

“Agent!” the cry went out. (It being in French, it sounded more like “eh-Zhawnt.”) Immediately the street sellers swept their goods, which sat on various sheets of cloth, up from the sidewalk as a stern looking policeman walked down the narrow road, which was barely wide enough to accommodate an occasional motorcyclist). He pointed and gave off your general police-officer air of authority but as soon as he passed, and before he was out of sight or even smell, for that matter, the vendors were already throwing their goods back down on the street.

For 15 seconds, counterfeit peddling was disrupted. Then everything returned to normal.

Moroccasans and other tidbits

Some highlights from Morocco, where the weather is grand, the weather is great, the weather is awesome.

Touched down in Fez where, did I mention, the weather was super. Unfortunately we are still being cautious in our choosing of clothing so have tried to stay away from t-shirts, despite it feeling like the high-20s. The locals don’t seem to like t-shirts but then, many of them are wearing winter coats.

First day we spent on a cursory exploration of Fez, including walking around the walls of the royal palace. Along one stretch there are guard stations every 50 metres or so and pedestrians cannot walk on the sidewalk nearest the wall. Wondering, what exact high-profile target was on the other side of the wall, we turned to google earth. Which reavealed a golf course. Maybe the guards are just waiting to find some balls that come sailing over the walls. Or maybe they are protecting pedestrians from stray balls. Although that doesn’t really explain the rifles. Maybe they have golf ball shooting practices, like clay pigeons. Except with golf balls. Anyways, there are also orange trees here. Although all the oranges seem to have been picked from the lower branches by the various merchants around town.

Next day went to Meknes and explored that city’s Medina. It seemed much larger than the Fez Medina, which we were told was the largest in the world. When we returned to Fez, we took a little mini choo-choo train tour of the basic sites and learned that we had completely missed the Medina the previous day. So today we went to the medina, picked up a guide and spent an hour and a half getting lost in the medina and, alternately, telling the various craftspeople the guide led us too that we can’t buy anything.

Today to Casablanca which boasts a BAM (Big Ass Mosque). Actually the second biggest assest mosque in the world. Quite imposing. Would show pictures if this computer was from this millenium.

In other news, Magda is grating at the fact that there are a million cafes here which are pretty much the sole domain of men. Women aren’t welcomed there, apparently. The cafes are apparently the Moroccan equivalent of the strip club, giving men a place to hang out.  Except they are much more prevalent and just serve strong coffee. Thankfully, though, the whole religion thing is not super-strict and there is no problem for Magda to not wear a headscarf.

Still, we stand out like, well, northern European blonde people in an African nation. We see the odd northern European or North American tourist here but they are hardly common. All very interesting.

Speedblogging from Milan

Some speedblogging from Milan:

Milan isn’t the fashion capital of the world for nothing. Tons of boutique stores here with toques and scarves for many hundreds of dollars. Shirts for thousands. Crazy. Perhaps because of all the high-end-ness of everything there isn’t much of a streetfood culture here. No kebabs. Guess the high property values are anti-good, cheap food. Also, no supermarkets.

That said, Italian drivers sure can honk. Guess you need to when your roads have no freakin’ lines on them. The Duomo here is quite stunning. Very intricate detail, outside at least. The inside is huge but you get the feeling they blew the budget on the outside.

Not much else. Yesterday was quite warm. 12 degrees when we got in around 4 p.m. Today chillier around 7, which is rendered more comfortable when Warsaw is supposed to get snow, snow and more snow over the next weekend. Also. Next Sunday, when we’re in Marrakech, it’s supposed to be 27 degree, in Marrakech. Not that I’m bragging.

The city that forgot tourism

Krakow may have had the culture, the ancient and prestigious university, the tourists and the stunning castle but residents of Lodz could always note that their city, in fact, was bigger. No more, while the manufacturers of Lodz struggled towards the 21st century, Krakow raced ahead, becoming a tourist and student mecca.

We are in Lodz again this week, visiting Magda’s family. The city is often compared to Manchester; a gritty past focused on clothes manufacturing having given way to an identity crisis in the post-industrial world. And while Manchester has recently taken great strides towards developing a tourist and shopping-oriented economy, Lodz is just starting to take baby steps.

There are posters everywhere touting Lodz as the best choice to be named the 2016 European culture capital and the Manufaktura, a huge shopping and entertainment complex, seeks to use the city’s past to move forward. Piotrkowska Street, meanwhile, is a large shopping stretch with many good pubs. Still, it’s hard to visit and not see untapped potential everywhere.

In many places, sides of buildings never meant to see the light of day lay bare and windowless, the structures on which they used to hug gone. On the above mentioned Piotrkowska Street many buildings have magnificent facades that nevertheless have been neglected. In a Vienna or a Dresden or a Warsaw the columns and the architecture flourishes would be lit up. Here they aren’t even cleaned.

It could be better, but it also allows one to take a look back in time and, like in Lokrum, revel in a tourist attraction without all the polish (no pun intended.)

Winter’s last days (photos)

A certain important web critic has brought it to my attention that I have neglected posting many photos recently so here are a couple of Warsaw’s old town that the weather will soon render dated:

Statues of libertiski (photos)

In addition to the photo I posted last week, there are a ton of statues here:

This isn’t a statue. It’s called the Belvedere and Poles call it their White House. Except the President doesn’t live there (any more). It’s used for balls every now and then, though.

The Safety Dance

While the sun is no longer setting at three o’clock, it still gets dark quite early here, given the fact that we are further north than Edmonton (don’t worry, all the snow’s gone here and the temperature is hovering around five degrees). Living so far north during winter, and not having a car, means I’ve been spending a lot of time walking in the dark. Often Magda is with me, but sometimes I’m alone.

And yet, considering we live in a densely populated area of a large city, I feel very safe. This is not extremely surprising. While Warsaw’s eastern district of Praga is known to be a little violent, elsewhere there doesn’t seem to be much threat of robbery or crime. It’s certainly easier to do the ol’ safety dance here than in Salford, Manchester’s grubby little brother, where I lived for a few months in 2005.

And yet, Salford and Poland seem to have one thing in common: an emphasis on security. In the UK, I lived in a student housing complex with a guard’s gate and 24-hour security. If you tried to LEAVE the wrong way the security guards acted like you had offended them personally and all but threatened to throw you in jail. Thankfully, we have no such guards here but our door includes two locks, one of which has two seperate deadbolts.

Elsewhere, we were instructed to lock the door behind us; not only when we were leaving but also after we entered the house. Even out in the forest at Mazury, locking the door is a must-do. For someone who for long stretches of his life hasn’t seen the need to lock the door behind him after leaving home, much less, when he is home, the focus on security is a little strange and alienating.

Even Magda, who, in Canada, prefers to lock the door at night has been taken aback. Still, we have been conforming to the norm, locking the door when we leave (and sometimes when we return) home.