Bogota: you have to pay $100 to enter the country

That was a first. Upon arriving at Bogota Colombia’s El Dorado airport - the busiest in Latin America – and after spending 40 minutes in the longest cattle lineup I’ve ever experienced at Customs, I was pulled aside and taken to – what!? - another kiosk. Oh no, an interrogation? Nope, a “reciprocal” fee to enter the country, working out to just over $100. Really? Yup, because Canada also charges Colombians such a fee to enter our wonderful land. Who knew?

Bogota is one of the highest cities in the world at 8596 ft. It also goes by the name DC just like Washington, because it’s the capital. Its pop is 8 mil, 11 mil if you count the suburbs. 

I went there because I was fascinated by the city’s pioneering TransMilenio Bus Rapid Transit system, which I first read about in transit & travel writer Taras Grescoe’s book Straphanger. Being a transit freak I knew I had to check this out. I missed my plane last year – seriously (see post July 27, 2025) - and eventually rebooked the end of August. So yes, I spent a day riding the system, with mixed results.

But first, a few things about Bogota and Colombia. For one, inhabitants speak next to no English. I’ve never been in a foreign city where English is so little spoken, though Mexico City comes close. I’m not complaining. I have about 100 Spanish words and phrases and there’s always Google Translate. But it was still difficult. Otherwise, the city is fairly normal, with a range of social classes and neighbourhoods from the outlying sometimes desperately poor barrios to affluent northern districts. I stayed in Chapinero, just north of downtown, in the perfect boutique hotel, Abitare 56. Yes, I had trepidation before I went, not least after I read a story about an orthodox New York Jew who went there to meet a bride and was killed and his body chopped up. But after arriving I really felt safe and didn’t even encounter any menacing personalities though the streets were bustling and pedestrians everywhere. 

Getting around? I walked, as my want in exploring places, interminably, though I did take up the slack with public transit, a confusing array of various coloured buses with arcane route numbers mixing letters and numbers. You need a reloadable smart card to use the system. Often the buses were packed and you had to stand for long durations as the routes were long. Strangely the buses had turnstiles. To open you had to tap your card but then slide through a narrow gate. But one of the neatest things was the TransMiCable cable car line, a series of stations that transport you up a mountain and over some and into the poorest burrios. The ride down on a packed bus through narrow twist and turn streets was shall we say an experience.

Tour highlights (I tour myself, and don’t take official tours as much as I can help it), included the famous Monserrate, where another cable car takes you atop a mountain with an outstanding view of the city. The Fernando Botero museum was a knock out, the artist internationally acclaimed. The Gold Museum was interesting as the city seems to identify itself with the luxury metal, as per the name of the city’s airport. Cafes are everywhere but it was difficult to find open patios, especially ones that served alcohol. There is also a strong cycling culture with dedicated lanes on virtually every street, pedestrians and cyclists seemingly respecting each other’s turf.

There is a mix of architecture - from downright Brutalist 1970s era concrete ugliness to delightful classical buildings that make you think of Ivy League universities.

Now for the reason I came, riding the Transmilenio. Think of it as an above ground subway. Buses run on dedicated lanes. You can only board at designated stations about six blocks apart and pay at the station entrance. The buses are “articulated” in two or three segments. The concept is great, the execution not. And it’s probably a victim of its own success. So many people rely on it that the vehicles are extremely crowded, uncomfortably so. There is often standing room only and sometime literally shoulder to shoulder over long distances. Moreover, there are the usual transit jerks. Like musicians who insist on turning their amp full volume. Or touts who shout in your ear (one was right behind me and felt his spit) ad nauseum. It got to such a point that I started calling the system the "torture-milenio" and even vowed “never again” to ride it. Well, I didn’t have to, I don’t live there.

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

Chicago: towers, parks and Italian Beef

Chicago was eye-opening if not mind-blowing. I’d been there several times but the last time 10 years ago and only for an Amtrak day trip basically to the Art Institute, which hugs the northeast corner of the Loop, and not much further. This time it was a full blown, by foot, exploration of the central district, or a lot of it anyway. I had in mind a relatively small downtown and eviscerated post-pandemic office district. Yet Michigan Avenue, the main retail thoroughfare, was bubbling with pedestrians and retail including most of the main US department stores from Macy’s to Neiman Marcus to Bloomingdale’s, and a couple of swanky malls to boot. Slicing diagonally through the core is the Chicago River, with its newer Riverwalk, full of bars and eateries. Huge officer towers border both sides including one with the name of the current resident of the White House and those circular Marina Towers that used to be featured on Bob Newhart. Further north is a more placid district known as Streeterville yet still an attractive downtown-adjacent hood of towers, parks and the contemporary art museum. Not only is the core walkable but the architecture absolutely stunning. I had no idea just how many skyscrapers the city has, with novel and some iconoclastic designs. You certainly can get a sore neck looking up. And to the immediate west of the Loop is the up-and-coming Fulton Market, a hybrid of street level trendy bars and restos with former warehouse conversions into new offices including Google and Coca-Cola. People often think of Navy Pier but Millennium Park on the West Loop adds to the city greening on what used to be a rail yard. In effect the city’s lakeside parks run for mile upon mile, making for excellent cycling. I stayed in the far south end, South Holland, at yes a Super 8 (much cheaper than staying in the core) and took public transit downtown. There were a couple of alternatives: Bus 352 to the 95th St./Dan Ryan Expy Red Line “L” terminus. Or the 352 to Harvey and Metra, Chicago’s suburban commuter train system. The 352 is much slower and cuts through the city’s south side, notorious in folklore – and, ahem, - crime. But the neighbourhoods look a lot better than many in Detroit. The problem is it takes a good hour. Hopping off at the Metra in Harvey, so long as you make the  hourly schedule, is faster. I also discovered the signature dish of the Windy City. Just as Detroit has Coney Dogs and Montreal has smoked meat Chicago has Italian Beef, shredded dipped beef topped with peppers. Wonderful. 

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

Crossing new Gordie Howe bridge splendid, even US Customs had enough booths open

It was with anticipation and excitement as I crossed the Gordie Howe Int'l Bridge (GHIB) for the first time Thursday, three days after it opened. I was driving from east Windsor, a beautiful sunny late afternoon, and took the EC Row Expy exit on to the bridge ramp. What I remember  most is how swerving and high the structure is, the sweeping as you navigate on to the bridge by a road curvature and then climbing the bridge itself. It also takes longer to cross than one might suspect. As a frequent cross-border traveller I was sure to order my Breakaway windshield tag so that I would have automatic tolling approaching the bridge. No more having to wait in line to deal with a person in a booth or even the awkward credit card swiping in the card reader slots, which usually work after three or four pass throughs. That of course was at the “old” Ambassador Bridge. The other thing I liked at the Gordie is the fact US Customs has a sufficient number of booths open. This was my one fear. It's alright to build a glittering new bridge - for redundancy, cheaper tolls and more expedient road access - but if US Customs continues to delay crossings because it doesn't have enough booths open it’s almost the same as crossing the Ambassador. Ambassador Bridge management had always said this was the reason for traffic delays and they were absolutely right. Canadian Customs tended to have more booths open but there were times when they were even parsimonious and I’ve endured half hour to hour waits. But on Thursday aft with actual sparse traffic there were probably at least ten US booths open and I only had two vehicles ahead of me before it was my turn. As for the American side connections, you still have to do an awkward serpentine around concrete crash barriers (like at the Ambassador) - no doubt to stymie terrorists or other ne'er-do-wells - and then on to a small road that takes you to a stop sign where you have to turn right to follow to ramps leading to north and southbound Interstate 75. I’d have thought this would have been more streamlined. But I’m not complaining. Taking the GHIB will shave at least 20 minutes off my usual drive time. Having the Breakaway pass means I’ll pay less than half what I paid at the Ambassador. Some people have complained there is no duty free gas plaza on the US side as there is at the Ambassador, which offered the cheapest gas in metro Detroit. But given how high the tolls for that bridge were I'm not sure it makes much of a difference now that the new bridge is open (previously it only made sense to buy there if you were going to be stateside anyway). So altogether a splendid experience. I just hope US Customs keeps a sufficient number of booths open.

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

I miss those North American breakfasts, skip London in summer, AC's new honcho and Chicago prices

Generally, I prefer most things in Europe to North America - architecture, scenery transit and food. But one thing I constantly miss when away is the good old North American breakfast. It’s not to say I dislike Euro breakfasts with their protein bias of cold cuts and cheeses, occasionally punctuated with a hard-boiled egg. And yes, scrambled eggs and hot bacon and sausages are making inroads. As for the traditional “Full English” breakfast, raved about of course in jolly old England, I’ll take half of it, or less. The eggs and – maybe- the tomato part, and the bangers or rashes, but count me out of the baked beans and mushrooms. Of course, in continental Europe many hotels ape the Full English as decidedly non-continental and still serve it. Which brings me back to yearning for home. Because in Canada and the US you can walk into pretty much any diner and order eggs any way you want, bacon and/or sausages, toast, French Toast or pancakes - with generous portions. And did I mention unlimited coffee? This is one aspect of N America I’d like Europe to import from the colonies.

Speaking of London, now in its third heat wave of the summer, it’s a place to skip during the warm season. I was there late May when the first wave struck and it was horrid in this city with chockablock terrace houses, miniature or no lawns and rather unending brick and concrete. Simply, London wasn’t built for the summer. It’s a three-season town and that’s when I try to visit. But I’ve been caught out in late May and early September as part of wider spring and fall visits and couldn’t wait for the traditional British rain and cool sogginess to return. 

Air Canada has hired Scandinavian Air Services (SAS) chief Anko Van der Werff as its new honcho replacing retiring Michael Rousseau who among other things found it hard to speak in French even if he’s just reading it – and he lives in Montreal! My concern is SAS. I flew two years ago Copenhagen-Toronto on the carrier and was quite disappointed by the service. Unlike Air Canada you had to pay for booze – on a long-haul fight! – and the back seat entertainment system offered a fraction of AC's choices. 

Finally, checking accommodation in Chicago, I was astounded by the prices of hotels, even Airbnb’s. Hotels commonly began at $300US and well over $1000 for apts. anywhere close to the central city. Then I thought: Super 8 by Wyndham. Sure, it’s a stereotype low end chain. But my recent experience travelling to Florida (see Feb. 17 post) found a refreshed property which was clean and spacious and another that I couldn’t complain about. As for Chicago, the price was just $244.08US all-in for three nights. It has a minifridge and microwave, HDTV, WiFi and light breakfast. It’s in a distant suburb called South Holland but on a bus route and close to a Metra suburban train station. And I’m a train freak.

Travel irritants, that I and others, cause

I did it again. I checked out on the wrong date of my hotel. Heading out the door one afternoon to sightsee – and turning in my key at the front desk (old school, like you see in the movies) the receptionist called out, “Mr. Stang are you checking out?” Stunned, I replied, no. She held up my receipt. Yup, it said, June 29th check-out. But my flight wasn’t until early June 30th. Luckily, I was able to book another night. But I’ve done this at least once in the past, somehow confusing the last full day with the check out date. Remember: the last day of your stay is your check-out day.

- At Frankfurt airport I bought a beer (yes, you can drink openly in the terminal), sandwich and bag of chips. I used self-check-out and scanned every item. But it only charged me seven euros seemingly for the beer. Well, I tried - not my fault if the machine doesn’t cooperate! As I was leaving the store threshold, the clerk suddenly appeared and asked how much I paid. Oh-oh. I told her honestly and we returned to the check-out. Seems it often malfunctions and she punched in the other items. No drama.  

- Frankfurt is one of the last airports where you can see a lot of Boeing 747s – “The Queen of the Skies” – still in use, as Lufthansa is about the last airline flying them. For an airplane geek – heaven! (photo)

- The nine hour+ trip westbound from Europe to Detroit was uneventful except, midway through, the gent in the seat in front insisted on reclining his chair full length (photo) which cramped me, since I hadn’t reclined mine. This kind of thing can lead to air rage. But I kept my cool. And reclined my seat in turn but not as much (feeling sorry for the person behind). After an hour I screwed-up my courage and – very politely – asked the gentleman if he could move his seat up “a bit.” He adjusted it fully and was good about it. Courtesy works.

- I scored another free gate check carry-out at Valletta (Malta) thru Detroit – two flights. It’s wonderful not to have even a carry-on to bring on board. (see June 22 post below)

- I always thought Air Canada was among the best airlines. (I know, the airlines’ critics are legion, and I often think knee jerk.) But Lufthansa – which I’ve flown before – has even better transatlantic service. A drink (incl alcohol) galley before dinner. Two quality dinner choices plus more alcohol if you want. And even wine on the snack run prior to landing. Plus, a decent size bottle of water – free – en route. The backseat entertainment also seemed as varied as AC. This is compared to a recent SAS flight which offered no booze and limited entertainment. Air Transat gives you wine but in a paper cup.

- My carry-on is Air Canada branded (bought at Walmart). And no, I didn’t buy it to advertise I’m from Canada, as a lot of Canucks do with their Canadian flag tags and clothing patches (to distinguish themselves from those awful Americans, right?). I bought it simply because the price was right and it’s durable.

- One last thing: I took Detroit's Smart bus 125 from my GF's house in Lincoln Park all the way to Detroit Metro. Only 50 cents (seniors), saving me a  bundle on airport parking. 

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

Joining the tourist hordes in Malta

I'm heading to Malta. It's an island I've somewhat thought about as being a mildly interesting place to go because of - what? - its antiquity, southern Med vibe and British ties? But what hooked me was the Mediterrane Film Festival. As a film blogger (Windsor Detroit Film) I'm on the British Film Institute's (BFI) email list, and a London PR agency is promoting the fest, now in its fourth year. Any excuse, right? I'm staying in the Castille Hotel, an old world hostelry that looks out over the Grand Harbour. There's even a rooftop terrace. Will I see the ghosts of the likes of Carl Grant and Grace Kelly (yes, I know she was the Princess of Monaco not Malta). Probably not but I can at least imagine. The island is sunsplashed, getting more than 300 sunny days a year and reputed to have the best climate in the world. It has long been a British protectorate but now (since 1964) is independent. Tons of Brits retire there. And as coincidence would have it Britain's Daily Mail newspaper (which I regularly read) this weekend did a big splash on Malta. The headline? "Malta is having a moment." Tourism has always been high but for some reason there's been a recent jump. And the island has an incredible seven tourists to every local - and I've complained about other places being overtouristed! Actually, I'm almost looking forward to it. The place is overloaded with history, harbours - seafood! - and is only 17 miles long and sounds easy to get around. If I get tired (or bored, always a possibility with me) I can just hang on the terrace or at an outdoor patio, reading or tapping on a laptop, pretending to be an expatriate. Temps in the low 90s with full sun all this week. See you!

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

That checked carry-on made quite the difference, and an Angela Merkel sighting

I have become an addict of the “full flight” last minute “gate” checked luggage offer. This happens usually when flights are full and airline gate agents make an announcement asking passengers to voluntarily check their carry-ons as there is not enough room in the plane's overhead bins. Most passengers balk, as they are addicted to hoisting their carry-ons etc on board for dear life, for fear the airline will lose their cherished bag, even if it goes on the exact same plane as they’re on to a single destination. Last year in Toronto an Air Canada gate agent started joking because no one (including me) came forward when the first announcement was made. After thinking about it – and the convenience of not having to find space in an overhead and the low level competition of doing so with other passengers – I agreed. But I was among only a handful. But having done so I’m now sold. I look forward to “full flight” announcements. Because not only do you get your carry-on checked through to your final destination it’s absolutely free. Compared to roughly $75 you’d chuck if you’d done this at the check-in. Such was the case Monday when I strolled to Gate B-07 at Berlin-Brandenburg airport, a burgeoning crowd gathering for the first boarding announcement. Yes siree, they’re making it, I thought. I couldn’t wait to have an agent loop the sticky tag on my bag. “All the way to my final destination?” I asked the marauding agent with a handheld terminal. Yes, he said, trying to decipher the code for Windsor, which I helpfully named. So Berlin-Zurich-Toronto-Windsor. How great is that? Another bonus when volunteering to check your bag is you get priority boarding, at least on the first flight.  But since these would be flights of just over an hour, almost nine hours and then another hour I took out my current novel, Ian McEwan’s Nutshell, thinking my downloaded newspapers in my phone might not be enough. I should have known. Carrying even this slim novel was a nuisance, and I didn’t open it the whole trip, resorting to three movies on the AC Zurick – Toronto flight….I also ran into luck other ways Monday. I had an aisle seat of the first flight but an inner seat in mid-section on the second. But the gracious Swiss lady seatmate offered to move in. “Are you sure?” I asked a couple of times. She had no problem. So I scored another aisle seat. And the third time. Upon arriving in Windsor, my carry-on (which I had earlier seen thrown carelessly on to the tarmac conveyor belt in Toronto) was the first piece of luggage to come out of the carrousel chute.

My Berlin-Zurich flight offered another bonus. After having checked my carry-on and looking down the jetway, I spotted what seemed to me an iconic figure, that being Germany’s former Chancellor Angela Merkel (2005-2021). She was dressed as she always did, in pants and a kind of tunic top, her hair cut the same with perhaps a few extra lines around the eyes (we’re the same age). She was escorted down the jetway before the other passengers. A personal fun fact: my German friend attended the Zuse scientific institute in Berlin with Merkel’s ex-husband, Ulrich Merkel. 

Finally, you know you’re in Windsor syndrome. My AC Express from Toronto took off in amazingly clear skies from the so called Big Smoke, with panoramic views of the receding airport and a great turn over midtown Toronto and west across the edge of Lake Ontario. Even over London you can see the sweeping concave of Lake Huron. But upon entering airspace west of Chatham the sky thickened into that telltale SW Ontario humid haze. I knew I was home!

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

Brit food is great, or not

One of the great treats of Britain is the Sunday Pub Roast. Many pubs on Sunday afternoons put on a special meal with all the trimmings just like your mother used to (or maybe still does) make it. Roast beef is the most traditional but there can also be lamb, pork or turkey. One meal I had included beef, turkey and small sausage and bacon rolls. You'll get at least a couple of roast potatoes, a medley of delicious vegetables - think turnips, carrots, broccoli and/or mashed sweet potatoes - and giant Yorkshire pudding of which it seems pubs compete who can make the biggest. There's nothing quite like it anywhere else though I've noticed a few places in Toronto starting to offer. But let's leave the traditions to Britain or your mom/mum. Maybe I should take that statement back when it comes to fish and chips. It's blasphemous but I just can't find the quality fish and chips I can get back home. Yes, they may be fried fresh but usually what you get is one long flat slab not the meaty bulbous filets of Canada. And the storied chips? Big tick for cholesterol. I know fries (never call them French Fries here!) are starch-plus but their thickness makes you want to stop eating calorie overload. Then there's the trad English breakfast or "Full English." Okay, a couple of fried eggs and some flavourful back bacon and bangers. The half cut fried tomatoes fine. But I draw the line on the baked beans and mushrooms. In fact, when it comes to breakfasts - and this applies not only to the UK but Europe in general - if there's anything I miss about food back home, it's the typical North American breakfast, with bacon, eggs, hash browns, pancakes and various combinations thereof. Meanwhile for fast food in the UK there's always Greggs, the Tim Hortons equivalent of Canada. For an island nation of high prices Greggs is relatively cheap, their regular coffee excellent and besides doughnuts they have a UK favourite of mine, sausage rolls. One dismaying aspect of the decline of traditional British life is the lack of English beer. Basically everybody here drinks foreign. Even pub beer on tap is laden with logos for any country but the UK. "Estrella?" (Spanish) I was automatically asked yesterday as if it's the common serve. One time I asked for "something English" and the server looked at me puzzled. Indicative was a story last week in The Daily Telegraph. Old Speckled Hen (not named for an animal) has just been sold to that same Barcelona brewer. And its the latest of a long line: "Boddington’s, Bass and Camden Town have bought by AB Inbev, Belgian owner of Budweiser; London Pride by Japan’s Asahi. But there are thank goodness still traditional pubs. In which to cry into your suds. 

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

London's voluminous parks suffer symptoms of parks everywhere

There are many - should I say myriad and almost infinite - things to love about London. It's the city I visit most. But there are aspects of it, while great, that are a little perplexing, and in certain ways not that much different from cities anywhere. The most obvious is parks. This city is teeming with them, and they are voluminous and often sprinkled with delightful gardens (photo below left). I'm staying in West London and parks nearby include Gunnersbury (celebrating its 100th birthday this month and opened by Neville Chamberlain!), Ealing Green, Boston Manor, Syon, Walpole and Dukes Meadows. Some of them take on the character of heaths (there are also many official Heaths) with uncultivated foliage. Many were owned privately and include mansions turned

into museums. They are all quite lovely and impressive. But like parks in Canada and pretty much everywhere else they lack certain essentials - park benches and public toilets  - and feature oodles of wasted space. For all the efforts governments put into encouraging healthy living and "green" over concrete and asphalt they make natural settings rather unattractive to use. The photo above shows Ealing Green with a humongous open field bereft of people or activity when I traversed last week. And hardly a bench to sit on. Walking along the River Thames in the elongated Dukes Meadows Park (10 miles long; I walked two), the pathway juts in and out of foliage

sometimes obstructing river views. And it was partly gravel. An occasional bench had a 1970s chunky design not conducive to relaxing. Restrooms - "Toilets" or "WCs" - were non-existent.

I have been coming to London for years, even decades, and one thing that keeps disappearing is the Britain of old. Forget the bowler hats and Bobby helmets - they went out decades ago. But even the legendary English eccentrics are in decline. I saw one in a tube station on the weekend dressed in a colourful suit and straw hat. And I thought "yes, that's the look and attitude." Meanwhile the manner of street dress is the same as everywhere - elephant or mom pants on young women, hoodies galore and trainers (running shoes) omnipresent. There seems no sense of expressing a British attitude given the country's rich history and physical references (buildings, monuments) everywhere.

The best way to explore London is by simply wandering or hopping on a bus and see where it will lead. The bus routes are long and convoluted (that's a good thing) and take you through the most amazing neighbourhoods, overflowing with retail "high streets" and contrasting and often extremely old residential areas of varying social classes. 

There are also some Brit phrases that are twists on the North American. "Take Away" instead of "Take Out" of course. But "Eat All You Can" instead of "All You Can Eat." And some funny ones like the photo at left -  beware not of dogs but humans. 

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

How to talk to a tourist

After having walked 10 km along the beach between Elviria and Marbella Spain, on one of the sunniest and warmest days this winter, I wasn't only thirsty (yes I had water but) and hungry. All I wanted, for some reason, was a hamburger (or hamburguesa) and beer (cerveza). I got to a point where I didn't care where I got it - from a shack on the beach or a fancy sit-down. The first that came up, upon entering Marbella, was a beachside resto. But I entered from the wrong entrance. "Tienes hamburguesas? (you have hamburgers?) I said as a waiter approached me. "Yes," he immediately switched to English. But, he said, I had entered from the wrong entrance. I had to go around and enter from the main door. "That is how we do things here." A little annoyed by his attitude, I responded, "Oh, the main entrance!" in an exaggerated tone. I considered doing exactly that but then thought "screw it." First, I was put off by the waiter's immediate conversion to English when I asked him something in Spanish. Sure, it happens all the time on the Costa but perhaps his slightly aggressive tone made it annoying. So I continued walking and turned up a block to the main drag, Avenida Ricardo Soriano, named after the main developer who brought post-war tourism - and a lot of foreign money (including infamous Russian oligarchs) - to this destination mecca in southwestern Spain. I walked a couple of blocks and spotted a small cafe across the street. A waiter, as typical, was standing outside. I asked "Tienes hamburguesas?" "Si." No switching to English, he just asked what I'd like on it. I got the "completo" and said "si." I doubt he even knew a word in English. Same with the young waitress. And everyone around me - on the patio and inside - was a local and some were regulars. Ah, I sighed, perfect. No one attempting to speak English to me and taking me literarily at my word, as much Spanish as I had. 

Unfortunately, as beautiful and elegant as downtown Marbella is, I fear the city centre might be hollowing out. The first sign was spotting what used to be a delightful local bakery (photo above), pastry and sandwich shop, undergoing renos when I was here last year. And now I know the reason: it has been turned into - aghast! - a Five Guys hamburger joint. Then, walking further along the street I noticed two storefronts completely empty. I may be jumping to conclusions but indicators like this don't portend well, even for an otherwise exquisite city.

Last week (March 10) I booked a "multi city" air fare from Windsor to London, and returning more than a month later from Berlin to Windsor. I was going to wait on booking it but the Iran War and warnings of gas price hikes made me decide to book early. I paid $1194.26. Just for the heck of it, I decided to check last Friday if the price had skyrocketed. Just the opposite. It had gone down to $1083.25 for the exact same flights. And today I checked again, the price now up to $1383.52 but that included one checked bag!

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

A shitshow at Customs, and this was in Spain

I love arriving in Malaga, southwestern Spain's biggest city and international airport hub - gateway to sun-splashed and cultural bliss (Picasso's home town)  So it was disappointing to have to go through the shitshow us passengers from Manchester on a Ryanair flight had to experience Sunday at Málaga-Costa del Sol Airport. We were confronted by the brand new EU Entry-Exit system's fingerprint and photo recognition machines (photo), half of which didn't seem to work. You place your passport over a scanner - that worked. Then it adjusted to take your photo, similar to what you have at Canada Customs at Toronto's Pearson. Then the fingerprint capture. You place four right fingers (not the thumb) over a glass pad and the fingerprints register on a screen. Except they didn't. I tried five or six times and still they didn't take. Finally a notice on a bigger screen popped up saying, "proceed to a manned kiosk." Except...the electronic gates didn't open. I wasn't the only one caught in this bind. About a dozen of us couldn't get through. The Spanish Customs officers were only about 10 m away but seemed oblivious to our plight. Passengers shouted and waved at them but they paid no heed. After a few minutes one finally strolled over and looking at us like we were slightly idiots, said to simply walk round to the booths. The problem? The other lanes were cordoned off with official tape (known as stanchions), usually making passage verboten. A couple of us "risked" it anyway, ducking under the stanchion and making our way to a booth. The officers simply took our passports and stamped them as if nothing had happened. And I don't imagine they got our fingerprints.

Walking out of Malaga airport towards the suburban train station and my train/bus combo journey to Elviria, about 50 km west, I noticed a brand new and spacious Pret A Manger. Pret of course is usually found only in the biggest or swankiest urban and tourist capitals. And I thought: "Malaga has arrived."

I flew Ryanair between Manchester UK and Malaga. It was my second time flying the Irish-based discount carrier, perhaps best known of Europe's budget airlines and notorious for owner Michael O'Leary's sometimes outrageous suggestions for making travel even cheaper - i.e., having passengers stand. The Boeing 737s have a tacky interior with safety instructions stuck on to the back of seats and no seat pockets. The airline's new policy is that you must use a digital boarding pass or risk a £55 ($100.17 Cad) penalty. Since I had paid for my carry-on when booking  ($35.56 Cad for a total one way flight of $94.05) I was deemed "Priority" and could board from the tarmac by the front door. The airline has a nifty app and you can use this to order in-flight meals. I tried but it didn't work. A fellow passenger told me you had to do this before the flight left the ground. Otherwise you have to wait for the food cart to come down the aisle, which took awhile when I was famished not having had breakfast after an overnight flight from Canada. 

At my resort or "apartment-hotel" - where I stay every year - I notice a few subtle changes. There's one paper cup in the bathroom compared to two last year and one dish cloth in the kitchenette instead of two. But since I am on the third floor instead of my normally second floor apartment, perhaps the offerings diminish as one rises higher? Otherwise, this is a great place (pic above) - reasonably priced, efficiently managed and choice location - one of the best finds on the Costa. 

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

I never thought I'd sing the praises of Super 8

I never thought I’d be touting the wonders of the Super 8 motel chain. But on my recent trip going-and-coming from Florida it was my new go-to place for overnight stays., The initial reason? Price. Okay, I've stayed in cheap motels before and wasn't expecting much – worn down furniture and stained carpets with a modicum of cleanliness. But upon checking in to the chain at my usual overnight stop en route to Fla – Macon, Georgia – I was delighted by what I got for 66.54 US (93.46 CAD). The motel has just undergone a renovation, and the spic and span room featured laminated wood flooring, a midcentury style upholstered chair, a separate desk and chair, and king size bed with ample pillows. There was also a fridge and a microwave. And plenty of space. The chain also has a coffee shop and offers continental breakfast. The entire suite had a contemporary upscale feel. I’ve stayed in hotels three times the price (I’m looking at you, Hilton Garden Inn, Dorval QC, Sept 2024) where more than $300 didn't even get us breakfast. Or the faded Chrome Hotel in downtown Montreal last October where there was a fridge but no microwave. We had to warm-up food in the laundry where there was a small microwave on a corner table, necessitating elevator rides and a lot of walking). And on my return trip from Florida this past weekend I stayed at the Super 8 in Farragut (west side Knoxville) TN.  An older building so not quite to the fresh standards of the Macon motel but nonetheless a spacious suite and all the amenities. 

I had to laugh at the news WestJet decided to cancel installing new rows of seats in its 737 jets after a backlash that the “pitch” or room between them was ridiculously close. WestJet is following the road of many wannabe discount airlines by trying to maximize profits from every square inch of space and service. But this time it backfired. And this airline, a onetime bright spot in the Canadian industry as a respectable alternative to Air Canada, suffered a major black eye. Increasingly I find discount airlines the bane of travel. Flying from Prague to London UK last fall we were booked on Wizz, the Hungarian discounter. I’d never seen an airline so obviously trying to squeeze as much revenue out of its operation as possible. For example, I’d never boarded a flight at the same time as the passengers on the previous flight were still getting off! And between flights the cabin crew donned hi-vis vests and turned into janitors as they went about cleaning up garbage from the previous flight. And beware if you don’t follow booking requirements to a T. For example, you’ll be charged for not checking–in electronically for your flight beforehand. In our case we deliberately didn't because we wanted seats together because one of us is disabled and there was no 1-800 number to call to reserve, as there is with mainstream airlines. No pity; we got charged.

Everyone talks about how wonderful Costa Rica is, the Central American country offering bucolic jungle landscapes with myriad waterfalls and white rafting rivers, not to mention great ocean vistas. So last month I decided to book one month in a rural but relatively touristy area on the Atlantic side. The hotel featured self-contained cottages on a hill with an ocean view. Self-contained meaning cooking for yourself. Okay, so where was the nearest grocery? According to Google Maps, just down the hilly road a few hundred feet. Then I decided to go on Google Street View and look at what that road looked like as well as the “mini mart.” Strictly "Third World," shall we say, with the mart looking nothing at all like a grocery but a tumbled down shack. The adjacent highway had the odd cafe along it but, again, rather dilapidated.  What about the beach? The beach road was strewn with cars parked haphazardly on and off it. This hardly looked inviting and scenic. I quickly cancelled the hotel within half an hour of booking it – the fastest vacay rental turnaround I've ever done. 

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller

Despite the "cold" it's good to be back in St. Pete

After being away six years it's good to be back in St. Petersburg, Fla (not the other one!). I have been coming to what Snowbirds call "Paradise" (though locals may demur somewhat) for well over a decade. I've stayed on the beach strip and then downtown (top photo) close to the restos, clubs and galleries scene in a very pedestrian-friendly core (so unlike the concrete canyons of Tampa across the Bay) until the family that ran the small group of vintage 1920s cottages sold out to a developer and the block is now one of St. Petersburg's latest new condos (photo below). In fact St. Pete is booming like I've never seen it. Post-Covid it's like half of America has discovered this sun-drenched, warm (well, not over the past week) and bucolic urban oasis with its mixture of amenities, parks, historic neighborhoods and of course miles upon miles of beaches. A recent Saturday was so clogged with traffic that I simply decided to stay in my car than trying to find a parking space, and then

crawled in bumper to bumper traffic all along the Central Ave. spine, the city's entertainment district that has now expanded by blocks upon blocks of new restaurants, cafes and pubs. Driving back to the beach strip, where I'm staying this trip, was like a reprieve. I used to stay on the beach but got fed up that it was too touristy and that my rental had the world's worst internet, so moved DT to feel like a regular. But back on the beach - actually across the street - is really pretty good and I've booked a similar place a few blocks away for next winter. There are some restos and cafes - even a nature preserve - and of course you can just cross the street to the sand, as opposed to having to drive miles and compete for parking on hot beach days. I got bumped to this place after a similar suite a few miles south got sold. Prior to that a suburban house I'd booked also got sold and the alternative was less than adequate. It seems real estate is the top industry here. A neighbor in this complex, from Colorado, owns six vacation rentals. Signs abound for properties for sale or rent. Realty offices are everywhere. My current complex was severely damaged by Hurricane Milton in 2024. My apartment was apparently among the least damaged and other properties are still in a state of repair. But prices aren't cheap. I used to love shopping at grocery chain Publix but not anymore, when so many items - dollar for dollar - are just as expensive as back home or amazingly even more so, and then add the exchange rate. Wal-Mart cuts the cost by about a third. And restaurant prices are insane. A hole-in-the-wall Grouper joint up the street charged $35.41 US ($47.85 CAD) for an otherwise bland sandwich and a beer. Forget about dining out! And did I tell you about the cold? The past two weeks have been weather-crazy, with overnight lows in the high 30s - snowflurries were spotted inland this weekend - and daytimes getting into the 50s. There have been beach days of 70-plus but just a few. Still, sunshine almost universally abounds, the pristine white sand beach is wide and stretches forever, and despite the "cold" it's a hell of a lot better than sifting through the drifts back home.  

- Ron Stang, Windsor Ontario Canada, a frequent traveller