Fall trip 2011 - part 1

We have a close knit group in GTA that hangs around together - family parties every weekend in cyclic order, birthdays, outings etc. For the last few years we have made it a tradition to go away from GTA for summer, fall and winter trips. We just returned from our fall trip 2011. Let’s revisit my experience. You’ll like it.



Initially total nine families had planned to come. At the last moment one of the families dropped off.

There was a time when we opted for one over night staying in a hotel/motel to keep cost low, however through the years we noticed it put too much strain on everybody. We got out to relax but returned with fatigue. So, for last few years we made it a routine to book for two overnight stays. In Peterborough we planned to stay Friday and Saturday nights. This would essentially give us most of Sunday as well for sightseeing or other activities as we wouldn’t have to leave the motel until 11Am on Sunday morning.

Knowing Friday traffic in GTA could be a serious hindrance I went early to work and left around 4 PM (as oppose to my 10 to 6 PM regular routine). I was able to avoid some traffic but not all of it. I made it home around 5:30 PM. This wasn’t that bad considering most of the crowd that I faced was near my home town of Ajax. In GTA there are two freeways next to each other – the 401 Expressway and the collector. Each with four or more lanes it is an extravaganza of roads and vehicles. FYI – the collectors are connected to the expressway in certain points and works as the entry and exit point to the amalgamated expressways. Anyway, the reason I even brought it up is not to say how big of an expressway we have but to explain why my town Ajax get to see such suffocating traffic. The collector ends here and all the traffic on the collector lanes heading further east gets into a slow and cumbersome process of merging with the expressway traffic, resulting into creating a funnel – the narrow portion channeling to Ajax and beyond. I guess the city planners never thought that the city would grow at such a pace and would become one of the fastest growing metropolitan cities in the world (that is GTA – and not Toronto).

Okay, I drifted a little, more than a little, let’s get back to the trip.

My better half was ready to go, always a willing partner for trips, the kids were excited to get out of their own houses – a place they seemed to prefer much less over other people’s houses and hotels and motels. We started around 7 PM for Peterborough. There was still ample light on the sky, the weather was gloomy but not to the point that it would ruin our enthusiasm. Leaving in a country where six months were lost in winter (Oh well, lost may be too harsh. We have good times in winter as well. Snow falls are wonderful things until it starts to pile up. That sometime later.) we were suckers for sun and warm days. The summer here usually are very good, exactly what we all cherish for, with only one problem – it is short. Peterborough was only about 100 kilometers away, if we didn’t hit heavy traffic it shouldn’t take us more than an hour. As we hopped on the expressway it was time for awakening. The lanes were jam packed in home bound traffic at the end of the week. Many of them lived in the next two towns – Whitby and Oshawa, the later being a renown name as it hosts a General Motors manufacturing factory. I cursed under the breath – careful not being heard by the mom who were very particular about using bad words before the kids. I hated traffic, heavy bumper to bumper traffic. Working in jobs where I ended up driving quite a lot through such inhuman situation I have found one good way to steam out my dissatisfaction – cursing of course. If any of you have seen that Micheal Douglas movie (can’t remember the name but it was about a disgruntled man who snapped while waiting in a huge traffic jam) – a secret admission – I have thought of getting out of the car and swear against the government many times – for not extending the collector beyond Ajax, for taking too much income tax, for increasing property tax, for the skyrocketing fuel cost etc. I have many things to complain. Who doesn’t?

Anyway, the drive to Peterborough wasn’t half as bad as it looked when we started. Once we crossed Oshawa the traffic waned off quite a bit. We exited from 401 and hopped into highway 115 little past Bowmanville, a town further east and flew through very light traffic. My kind of traffic.

(More coming soon)

American border post

I have previously mentioned about Nam, my colleague in my temporary contract position. Things have been a little slow since I started here and we made small conversations on whatever came in our minds to pass time. We spoke about turmoil in Libya where the long time ruler Gaddafi had just been killed by the rebels. Nam didn't seem much interested. Possibly he figured out I had little sympathy for tyrants. Many Muslims had sympathy for Muslim born tyrants like Gaddafi and Saddam, I didn't. If they were wronged by USA or any other powerful countries they deserved it – that’s my opinion. Anyway, our discussions eventually and almost inevitably turned to USA. I have lived in USA for many years and had mixed feelings. However, Nam seemed to be quite agitated when the topic came up. He has been working as a contractor for several years as well and in his previous job travelled to USA to provide service to the clients of his employer. As we spoke about his experience with the clients in USA he looked annoyed and slightly disturbed.

"I tell you, this Americans has no respect for others." He stated.

This wasn't something I heard for the first time but I was curious to know what his reason to get to that conclusion was. Everybody who felt that way had their reasons. "What they do?" I innocently asked.

"They give me hard time every time I go across the border." He caresses his short beard. "They look at my religion, my beard and decide that I must be planning something sinister. Every time I go. This Americans...!"

"What really happened?" I persist. "Did they send you for interrogation? Something like that happened to me once. We had just moved to Canada from USA. We were going back to get some of the stuff that we left behind. The guy at the post sent us to the main building where we queued with hundreds of people and finally they interviewed my wife, not me." I wasn't particularly sour about it. Waiting in the queue to see the agent was painful (I hate waiting like every other North American) but rest went well. After that I never had any particular issue with border agents. I offered the details to Nam to warm him up a little bit so that he would share his story with me.

Nam opened up a little more. "See, one of my friends came from Kazakhstan, my country, you remember, and he was staying in Niagara falls. He called me up and asked me to come see him there. In the American side. I drove to the Niagara Falls border post and they won't let me in. Can you believe?"

"Why not? Just because of the beard?"

"Well not really. See, I forgot where my friend was staying. I mean, he told me but I sort of forgot. I kept calling him so that I could get the information from him but he wasn't picking up his phone."

"Why not?"

"It was dead. He forgot to charge it. We were talking on my way to Niagara Falls and suddenly it went dead. I couldn't reach him anymore. Now, this agent keeps asking me which hotel he was staying. I told him I forgot but I had his cell phone number and once I went in I was going to call him up and find out. He won't listen. He kept on saying he can't let me in unless I can tell them where I was going."

"Who else were with you?"

"I was going alone. I know, I am a young man travelling alone, don't know where my friend staying - it all look very SUSPICIOUS. But I offered him my cell phone, the call record, all my papers and ids - nothing worked. He won't let me in. Can you believe? I drove two hours from Toronto for nothing."

"What was he saying?"

"He called his manager. The manager scrambles through all my documents for half an hour and said exactly what the agent said."

"What did he say?"

"Find out where your friend stays and come back. We'll let you get in."

"Now what? What did you do?"

"What can I do? I had to turn around. Two hours later my friend calls me and tells me about his cell phone dying. I get his hotel name but I can't go back again. I haven't seen him for five years. I really wanted to meet him. This Americans! I tell you."

"Why didn't you just wait for a little longer in Niagara Falls?" I inquired. I probably would have done so, hoping my friend to charge his cell phone or find another phone and call me on my cell phone. After all I was coming to see him.

"I couldn't." Nam shrugged. "I had to return the car."

"What car?"

"Well, my car was having some engine issues. I had to take it to a mechanic. The mechanic said it would take him two more days. So I was driving my friend’s car. He needed the car back before evening. I didn't want to take any risk."

I was shocked. "You were driving your friend's car?"

"Yeah. And those idiots made a big deal out of that. The agent keeps saying why you are driving your friend's car? Where is your friend? I said, what do you mean? I can't drive my friend's car? If he let me drive his car why you care?"

It took me a few moments to take in this new information. Finally I summarized," So, you are a young Muslim bearded man, driving a car that was owned by one of your friends, trying to go through the border post to see a Muslim friend and you didn't know where he was staying." 

"Big deal. I told them - why would I lie? I gave them all my papers. I drove four hours for nothing. I hate to go there. Racists!"

I exhale quietly. I like Nam. I don't want to risk alienating him. I move my head in a way that neither qualifies as a nod nor as a shake.