When you think "February" you undoubtedly think "Toronto"
Either way, here I am in Toronto. In February. On purpose. Because actually, if dressed appropriately, I like the snow and cold and there's actually very little of that authentically to be found in Vancouver, and the Okanagan has been a bit lacking in those things as well.
This time, however, I did not travel alone. I brought Star with me! (The everyday antics of Star can be found at the appropriately named blog Every Day Star
.) Travelling on an airplane with a one year old is interesting. Things I used to take for granted, like having two hands to grab my baggage off the carousel for instance are no longer simple and predictable.
Nonetheless my excellent plan to travel via redeye flight (leaving at 11 at night) worked nearly perfectly. He slept most of the way, although I definitely didn't. Still, we made it.
One comment I have in particular, however, is that the airline attendant said that transport canada specifically forbade that the child be in his carrier when the seatbelt sign was on. Instead, I'm supposed to hold him up against my shoulder in the "burp" position (her words). If we're told to brace for impact, I'm supposed to hold him against my shoulder with one hand and lay my other hand against the seat in front of me. Really transport canada? Your theory is that securing the child into his carrier, securing him against my body with strong fabric webbing and supporting his head, neck and back is unsafe compared to trying to control the movements of a 20+ pound infant with ONE HAND? This is ridiculous.
I'm staying with Skinnybear at his house in a neighbourhood of Toronto that he was unable to really name. He suggested that "Silverthorn" is really the only name you could give it, but that this is an old name and very few people would know what it meant. But that's where we are. His house is neat, sitting up on a hill and it has a pretty decent view across the city - house after house after house after street of house. But there are a lot of stairs to get to the front door. He suggested that baggage handlers the world round would take up collection to buy me a less heavy bag after lugging said bag up the stairs himself. It's true, they might. The bag, before luggage, is at least ten pounds itself.
On day one of our trip we arrived, got picked up at the airport at a very chilly 7 in the morning, came back to the house and ate an estimated mountain of toast, then went to bed and slept for five hours, which was awesome. Then we went grocery shopping, came home, ate dinner, watched TV, and low and behold, it's time for bed again.
Tomorrow we will be going off and doing something independent of our host, so I suppose I'd better figure out what to do. I kind of suspect I might have a cold, and Star likewise, so perhaps we'll do nothing other than stare out at the great view, watch random TV, work on homework and try to recover. But perhaps if we regain our strength we'll head out to a museum, or just a random bus experience. What's not to love about the bus?