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Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Panic buying

I wheeled over my suitcase to the Air Canada check-in counter and tried to nonchalantly lift it onto the scales as if it were a small baggy number that could be tossed onboard the aircraft by a five year old simultaneously playing a computer game. There was a trick to this; placed carefully it was possible to rest the end of the suitcase over the edge of the scale, preventing its true elephantine proportions to flash up on the digital display.

Why was my bag heavy enough to make these deceptions necessary?

Because it was full of toothpaste. 

… and moisturiser, deodorant, tooth floss, ibuprofen, vitamins and two packets of tampons.

Did I ever mention I panic buy when abroad? 

A typical shopping trip just before I'm due to fly back to Japan goes as follows:

Initial thought: "I ought to take vitamins. While I'm in Canada, I'll pick up a bottle because I can read the label."

See, so far all very reasonable. Then we go to the supermarket shelves. Do I need a bottle this size:

Or maybe this size:

But suppose I run out and I can't find them in Japan? Better take a bigger bottle:

But that's only 240 capsules! Not even enough for a year! I'll run out, be unable to find more, buy the wrong product because I can't read the label and DIE BECAUSE MY LEGS HAVE FALLEN OFF. CAN'T YOU SEE IT SAYS HEART SUPPORT ON THE LABEL?:

 and better get some of these too:

Sometimes I think I'm not totally cut out for living abroad.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

How to pack a cat: taking your pet abroad


Oddly enough, the most popular blog post I have ever written is this one; a list of 10 points on micro-braiding your hair. I'm therefore going to draw the bold conclusion (not remotely assisted by the news at present) that there are people out there in search of FACTS. Allow me to present the post I would like to have read before starting this process: 10 tips for moving abroad with your pet. For understandable reasons, this will be highly biased towards a move to Japan!




(1) Check your destination country's website for animal import requirements

Regulations concerning animal import vary widely but I'd found most countries put up fairly comprehensive and user-friendly details on the web. For example, Japan has a super-nice FAQ here. As a rough rule of thumb, if you're moving between countries that share a physical border, the process will be infinitely easier than those separated by sea since importation of new diseases can't really be an issue. When I moved from the USA to Canada, the only essential paperwork for my cat was a rabies vaccination certificate and, if this was missing, the vaccination would simply be performed on the spot.

(2) Start early

I can't emphasise this one enough. Due to its rabies-free status, importation of animals to Japan is a tightly controlled process. The reason my move went smoothly was because I started the paperwork a year in advance of actually moving my cat. The absolute minimum time you will need to import an animal to a rabies-free country is seven months and most likely it will be longer.

(3) Microchip your pet

Regardless of where you are travelling, microchipping your pet for identification will be essential. Each microchip provides a unique ID number that will be scanned when you arrive in the new country to ensure the documents you have correspond to the same animal. Since all your documents must have this number on them, do this step early on. The microchip itself is only the size of a grain of rice and is injected like a normal vaccination into the scruff of the neck. Tallis didn't even blink, unlike when she was subjugated to a gentle tummy examination. Make sure your vet uses an international 15 digit ISO pet microchip which are recognised world-wide. Even if you are travelling domestically, you don't want to have to do this again at a later date.

(4) Vaccination type

Even if your pet is up-to-date with his or her vaccinations, double check the country's requirements carefully. Tallis had several years of rabies vaccinations under her belt (or rather, fur) but Japan required 'inactive' rather than 'live' vaccines to have been administered, so Tallis had to have an extra one. If this happens, check to see if only having one vaccine of the accepted type is sufficient. Japan required at least two rabies vaccinations, but accepted the live vaccine as the first one so long as the second shot was with the required inactive drug.

(5) To quarantine or not to quarantine?

As I mentioned in (1), each country has its own regulations regarding this matter. The cases I am most familiar with are those for the UK and Japan which are both rabies-free countries. Rabies can take up to six months to show symptoms and so, until recently, both countries had a non-negotiable half-year quarantine period for any cat or dog brought in from abroad. However, the use of microchips makes it possible to guarantee correspondence of the pet to the vaccination records so this step can be performed at your home in advance of travel.

For our preparations, Tallis had to have an additional rabies vaccination and then an official blood test taken one month later. The blood works had to be conducted at a recognised laboratory for which there was only one in the whole of North America, situated in Kansas. The test confirmed that the vaccine was present in sufficient quantities in her blood stream to provide protection. Six months after this now-officially-proved vaccine had been given, we were allowed to travel. 

This six month period did not require special quarantine conditions, since Tallis was already resident in the country. We just had to wait, but act as normal.

(6) Paperwork

Japanese bureaucracy being what it is, the paperwork we had to complete was extended but well organised. Two months in advance of our travel, I emailed an application form into the quarantine service division at Tokyo's Narita Airport, where I would be arriving. They confirmed that they now were expecting us on the date and flight I specified and sent a further list of forms to be completed. These had to be filed in by both me and my vet and certified by the government offices of our current country of residence. In the case of Canada, this was all done by the 'Canadian Food Inspection Agency'. I still find that disturbing.

The final touches to these documents can't be completed until a week before your travel, since they require a recent health check of your pet, so make sure you have sufficient time in the crucial last few days. For my part, I downloaded all these forms and then...

... promptly forgot all about them.

Fortunately, Tokyo was more awake and a week before my arrival date, emailed to ask for copies of the completed documents so they could check them over in advance. In a panic, I called my vet to discover they had sorted all this out for me while I was watching hockey games. This brings me to my next point...

(7) Find a great vet

If at all possible, find a veterinary practise who has sent animals abroad before. Strangely enough, the small Blue Cross Animal Hospital that sat in a nondescript concrete hut close to where I used to live had already sent 3 pets to Japan in recent years. I still don't quite know what to make of that. However, if you are even remotely within driving distance of Hamilton, Ontario, I thoroughly recommend going to this Blue Cross clinic on King & Dundurn Street. Their administrative assistant, Trish, has extensive experience with handling the international exporting of pets. Before I arrived, her record for getting through Japanese quarantine was 20 minutes. Now it is 5.

(8) Cabin or hold?

You may not have a choice as to whether your pet can travel in the plane cabin with you or must go in the pet hold. Larger dogs cannot fit under the seat and so must travel separately while all planes to Australia (and possibly the UK) do not allow pets in the cabin. Air Canada won't fly to Hawaii with pets at all, but transports them separately via its cargo service. I have no idea why, since this seems to be an airline, not state, policy.

If your pet can travel in the cabin with you, then you get the peace of mind of keeping your furry friend within view at the cost of space. Crates that go into the hold can be considerably larger than a carrier that must stuff under a seat. That said, Air Canada will not fly with pets in the hold if the outside temperature is too hot or too cold, apparently due to the waiting time before flight. I found this quite off-putting (why should my cat be outside except for loading?) which is one of the reasons I elected to take Tallis in the cabin.

Pets must be booked onto the aircraft in advance and there is a limit on the number of pets a flight will take, so do this early. You will have to pay a fee, but it is likely to be relatively small. For Air Canada, it was $100 to take your cat in the cabin to Tokyo. Carriers (both for the cabin and hold) must confirm to certain size regulations which will be listed on the airline's website. Soft carriers are often labelled 'airline approved' to suggest they are good for in-cabin use, but each airline has different restrictions so check before you buy. The carrier I bought was made by Sherpa and I found it to be good.

(9) Drugs, food, water and toilet

I didn't use any drugs with Tallis. Reading the web suggests that this practice has gone out of favour, perhaps because complications mid-flight are impossible to fix. The vet did give me a natural spray that is supposed to release pheromones to remind a cat of its mother, but I'm unsure if this made any significant difference.

I bought a stack of puppy pads to line Tallis' carrier and then let her drink and eat as normal. In fact, the shock of what a perfectly normal Saturday had become, meant she didn't eat or noticeably drink at all during our journey. I changed the puppy pad a few times in the aeroplane toilet to freshen up the carrier. For water, I tried ice cubes in a cup as a way of providing a less spill-able beverage.

(10) Cost

The total all-in cost of moving Tallis to Japan was not negligible but neither was it prohibitively large. The single most expensive cost was the official blood works which cost over $300 CAD. Then there was the extra rabies vaccination, the health check, a final de-flea spray and the airline's charge. In total, it was maybe $800-1000, spread over a year.

My final advice (which I refuse to put as point (11) for aesthetic reasons) is don't panic. If you start with plenty of time, this isn't a hard process and it's not that tough on your pet. Tallis had no trouble with the long plane journey to Tokyo and was her usual self within minutes of us arriving at home in Sapporo. My fears that this was all a ghastly and cruel act were unfounded... but I was assured this shouldn't stop me producing copious amounts of Tallis' favourite cat food.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Flying pussy cats


The woman behind the desk at the 'Air Canada' check-in counter took my passport, glanced at the photo page and then down at my carry-on bag from which a pair of gleaming yellow-green eyes could be seen.

"Do you have any documentation for your cat?" she inquired.

I lifted a thick black folder and dropped it with a bang on the counter, where it dwarfed the small red booklet in her hands.

"... right." The woman hesitated before saying cautiously, "Is there a form that shows they're expecting you?"

I gathered from the singular choice of the word 'form' she wasn't after one of my three complete document copies. Pity. As it stood, I wasn't going to be able to fit a drink bottle into my bag.

Snapping open the elastic, I withdrew the sheet I had been sent from Tokyo Narita Quarantine Services, stating that my application to import a cat had been received. The Chinese lady working at the counter next to ours leaned over to take a peak.

"I can read some of the characters," she said with interest as she examined the Japanese-half of the bilingual script.

This apparently was enough proof that the document hadn't been forged, or maybe simply sufficient for the airline to declare it not-their-problem.

I understood their concern; like the UK, Japan is a rabies-free country. This means that their regulations concerning the import of animals are extremely strict. Once, this would have meant a non-negotiable six months quarantine (the time required for a rabies infection to show symptoms) but with the use of microchips to guarantee animal identification, this could all be waved with enough preparation... providing you had to right paperwork.

Tallis and I had been on one flight before, when I moved from Florida to Canada. While only a measly three hours compared to the 13 we were about to attempt, it had left me with some assurance that Tallis was likely to deal with it all relatively well. Unlike everyone else I talked to, I was not concerned about her causing a yowling scene on the plane. This was primarily for three reasons:

(1) I have a certain disregard for humanity.
(2) Planes are pretty noisy and Tallis doesn't have a very loud voice.
(3) ONE CRYING BABY and I was home and dry. No one talks about throwing an infant out the plane, though quite why is something of a mystery. See point (1).

Once in Tokyo, we had an overnight stop before going onto Sapporo for which I had booked Tallis into the airport pet kennels. Originally, I had done this because quarantine services threatened to take up to 12 hours even with the finest of leather-bond paperwork. On reflection, however, I realised a stop to stretch gave us both a much needed rest.

By far the most unforgivable event occurred a mere 10 minutes later as we approached security. Seeing what I was carrying, the airport staff waved me into a different line.

"Please take your doggy over there."

.... doggy?! DOGGY? I walked over to the designated line and pulled out a very ruffled and indignant cat.

"Is she vicious?" One of the security staff asked as they saw her struggle.

Well she didn't used to be until you CALLED HER A BITCH.

I plopped the cat over my shoulder and went through the scanner with a curt shake of my head. Humph. We went and sat in the airport lounge where Tallis chose to sit enthroned on my knee and be petted by the surrounding masses.

And after that ... everything went entirely smoothly. The flight was packed but my neighbours were nice, cat-loving types who didn't mind me sitting with the carrier on my lap after take-off. While she didn't use them, I had lined the carrier with a puppy pad against accidents, and changing this a few times during the flight freshened up the container. It also made me appreciate exactly how small a aeroplane toilet is. There truly is not enough room to swing a cat. Trust me.

When we arrived in Tokyo, I headed off to use the bathroom before approaching the quarantine desk, thinking I would be a while. While not a wasted gesture, this proved completely unnecessary since we were cleared for entry in a staggeringly short five minutes. I owe my vet's clinic a suitcase full of lucky waving cats. Or maybe not, since that might send them insane.

Indeed, the worst part of the whole journey (apart from the bit where Tallis was called a dog) came the following day on our short hop up to Sapporo. For this trip, Tallis was not allowed to travel in the cabin but had to go in the hold. When she was returned to me, she was wet all through and smelled terrible, which suggested she had been far more frightened on that short leg than at any point on our round the world jaunt. That notwithstanding, she recovered fast and vocally protested the remainder of our journey to my apartment.

"Meow meow meow!!"

"Look, we're nearly there!"

"MEOW MEOW MEOW"
You've been saying that for DAYS.

Well... yes, but this time it was true. Adorably, there was no doubt Tallis knew she was home. Perhaps she recognised the furniture, maybe the smell of me was enough or she might have reached the stage where she was prepared to adopted any non-crate room as her home. Whatever the reason, she ran around the apartment then fell on her water as if she hadn't drank in days.

This was perfectly true but it was NOT BECAUSE SHE HADN'T HAD THE OPPORTUNITY. She'd just shunned any cup I'd placed in her carrier. My sympathy was limited.

I collapsed on the sofa. In all honesty, before this trip I'd been anxious about the wisdom of my decision to bring Tallis to Japan. Was it truly fair to take a pet on such a long journey? Should I have tried to find Tallis a new home in Canada? Now though, I can honestly say I'd do it again. The secret is an early start, since the paperwork takes the best part of a year to complete (minimum 8 months) but with the right assistance, it was actually a painless process.

"Meow!"

"... You've gone in the bathtub haven't you?"

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

The perfect carrier


"meow."

"really?"

"Meow!"

"Really?!"

"MEOW!"

"REALLY?!"

So went our conversation as we headed back to the apartment after our final vet's visit before the flight at the weekend.

Tallis was in her spanking new red pet carrier. Since her old one was disintegrating and smelling strongly of cat pee, I had decided to upgrade her before we attempted the 13 hour flight to Tokyo. Extensive googling had revealed two highly recommended possibilities: a bag made by the manufacturer 'Sherpa' and one by 'Sleepypod'. The second of these two was about twice the price of the first but a few inches longer, with fold-up ends that enabled it to slide properly under the plane seat during take-off and landing. Both had good reviews, so it really came down to exactly how guilty I was feeling about taking my cat on this trip.

I'd put in an order for the 'Sleepypod' the week before.

However, it transpired that the whole of Canada was having some giant guilt complex concerning their feline friends and every shop and their supplier was on backorder. Deciding this was secretly a message from my bank manager, I asked a friend to drive me to the out-of-town Petsmart and purchased the Sherpa carrier.

This was the second journey we had tried with the carrier. On the plus side, the bag was sturdy, well ventilated and and a cheerful colour. On the downside, my considerable care and attention to this matter was being utterly unappreciated.

The sparkly clean interior of the carrier was already coated in cat pee. So was I since, as I mentioned above, the carrier was beautifully ventilated.

On our first visit to the vet's that week, I had purchased a pheromone spray designed to calm cats down by reminding them of their mother. Judging by its success this trip, I wondered whether we might be reaching the heart of Tallis' problem with other cats.

I let her out once we reached the apartment and set about scrubbing the carrier down. I was about to apply the same treatment to myself when my phone rang to let me know that my friend and that day's department speaker had arrived. I sniffed at my shirt. Well, I've never been one for suffering alone. I headed out down the stairs.

Monday, March 12, 2012

The Canadian Food Inspection Agency


The tags for cows are changing. No more will our Canadian bovine friends accessorize with a triangular green ear ornament detailing their identification number, but instead will model a yellow round disc. However, cows already adorned with last year's fashion piece must not have it removed --since that is illegal-- but rather must have the latest earring added to their attire.

These cows are clearly going to be punk cows.

How did I know this detail about livestock imports? Because I was in the office of the Canadian Food Inspection Agency ...

... waiting for them to approve the export papers for my cat.

May I just say that going to this particular organization for my little furry non-consumable pet kitty was highly disturbing? I distracted myself by reading a leaflet on compensation for Government destroyed animals. Wonderful.

Mercifully, the not-for-consumption cat was not present; all that was required was me and the paperwork for her import into Japan. This was particularly good since I wasn't sure I could carry both. The folder containing the relevant documents was bulging at the seams. I glanced down at the top-most sheet of paper. In English and Japanese, the heading read:

"Application for import: dogs, cat, foxes, raccoons and skunks."

Now, it might be just me, but it seems a little surprising that the import of foxes, raccoons and skunks is sufficiently common to warrant inclusion on a standard form. I made a mental note to keep this sheet handy when I was on the plane. If my neighbor objected to being seated beside a cat, I could point out that should he complain and move, he might be located by a skunk.

At length, I was called through to the main office to meet with the Government vet. He stamped my paperwork and told me that he had wanted to be an astronomer when he was small. I told him I had wanted to be a vet for years of my childhood. We both eyed each other, trying to access who had made the right choice.

Then the stamping was done, the papers returned to me with three additional copies. I tied an elastic band around my folder and stuffed it in my backpack. One shiny bright kitty, ready for consumption. I mean, export.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Dubious documents

"This passport was issued a few days ago. Why was that?"

Um. Because I needed a new one? Seriously, what sort of question was that? And how did I answer it without sounding like I was talking to a two year old and not a burly Canadian border guard?

I shrugged and tried to arrange my features into something that less implicative of 'WTF you moron?!'

"It needed to be renewed over Christmas."

There look, I spanned that out to a seven word sentence none of which were hamsters or elderberries.

"Are you gainfully employed in the UK?"

"No, I work in Japan."

I instantly regretted my words. The passport the border control guard held was a pristine virgin document, unsullied by any hands except those of the country from which is was forged and ....

... look, the point is it didn't contain a Japanese visa.

This wasn't a problem was far as Japan were concerned. In my backpack was my dog-eared cancelled passport which contained the still in-date visa for my job overseas. Unlike for American visas which have to be paid like a high-profile ransom to be transferred between passports, Japanese visas could chill in the old document until their own expiry date rolled around. The problem was, how much talking would I have to do to convince this border guard of that? Especially given his experience outside of Canadian bureaucracy would probably be with the neighbouring country of .... yeah. You see the problem.

I braced myself for a long hard wait. I was pretty sure that, had this been America, I probably wouldn't be making my flight out in a week's time. I'd be held in the country indefinitely JUST TO BE SURE I didn't stay there forever.

The border guard blinked at me. "Japan?"

I managed a tight smile. "Yeah."

A Brit coming from the UK into Canada with a empty passport, claiming she worked in Japan.

The guy burst out laughing and tossed my passport back at me. "Through you go!"

Maybe no one would ever make up a story that crazy. Maybe he decided he never wanted to know. I love you, Canada.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Covering options

In preparation for my trip next week, I needed to buy travel insurance. Since I would be away from Japan for almost three months in total, health coverage was my primary concern along with an extra boost in case one of my 101 connecting flights left me checking airport vending machines for a turkey Christmas dinner.

Hokkaido University sold such insurance packages and so on Thursday afternoon, I skidded across to the appropriate building. With me, I towed one of my friends to act as a translator, all the while assuring her that buying travel insurance was first class practice for writing her thesis, the draft of which was due the following week.

At the appropriate desk, we examined the brochure of options. My type of trip had a choice of three different packages for coverage. Each of these included a set amount for health costs, lost luggage, missed flight and --on a cheerful note-- compensation for death by illness and death by wounding.

The first three of these categories had different maximum amounts, depending on the option you selected. This was all good and understandable; depending on the number of flight
connections you would make, the value of your luggage and your
propensity for tightrope walking without a safety harness, you might
want more or less coverage in these areas. What was rather more perplexing was that while 'death by illness' had the same fixed amount in all cases, you could select different sums for 'death by wounding'.

Now, let us think about the thought process that must go into such a decision. Presumably, it starts as follows:

"Hmm. Yes, it is rather likely I will be stabbed to death in a dark alleyway on this visit."

OK, there are probably circumstances in which such a conclusion is inevitable. However, SURELY most people would CANCEL THEIR TRIP as opposed to thinking:

"I better take out the extended coverage for death by knifing in dark alleyways."

But no! Apparently, there are a whole class of people who, faced with probable death by violent homicide, consider the prudent course of action to take out more insurance.

GUYS! YOU DON'T GET TO SPEND IT!

I kept to the basic level of insurance for this nicety and pocketed the extra cash. Then I spent it. That's how to live, people.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Silver & Rupees

Banks in Japan have not yet taken to the notion of convenient opening hours. This includes CitiBank which, despite being a branch of an American business, has hours only between 9am and 3pm, Monday to Friday.

It was therefore Friday lunchtime when I slipped my way along the snow-packed street to see if I could acquire some Indian rupees for my trip in two weeks.

The answer was no.

But the woman at the branch did give me a map, directing me to the location of a currency exchange two blocks further south. Sliding along the ice and thinking this was almost thick enough for skates, I arrived at the "Travelex" kiosk, which was hidden inside a different bank, tucked out of sight of the entrance between the ATM and toilets, as if it were rather an embarrassing act to want to change Japanese Yen for any other currency.

Given the current state of the Euro, I could see where they were coming from.

"I'd like to exchange Yen for Indian rupees," I told the lady at the counter.

She checked her computer system, but then shook her head. "I'm sorry, we do not offer Indian rupees."

"... Can you not order them?" I could understand not having all currencies in stock, but surely they could be acquired.

Again she shook her head. "We do not offer them," she repeated. "I have Indonesian rupiah."

I appreciated the effort at a compromise, but unfortunately this was going to be an area where I stubbornly stuck to my original request quite beyond all reason.

"I really need Indian rupees," I persisted. "Since I'm going to India."

"Ah," the woman nodded as if agreeing this would be a problem. "You cannot get them in Japan."

No where in Japan?! I didn't quite know what to say to such blanket authority so I thanked her and left. It was only when I was half way back to campus (this taking a considerable period of time due to the weather) that I remembered reading on the website for 'The Rough Guide' that rupees were not supposed to be taken out of India. The guide had focussed on visitors with spare change and had said that, while this rule was not strictly enforced, there were currency exchanges at the airport for this reason. It had not occurred to me before now that such a rule would prevent me taking out cash in advance.

This wasn't a particular problem; since I was travelling to Delhi, any major bank in the city would likely accept either cash or credit card.

Clearly, this was just simply a case where it doesn't pay to be too organised. Literally.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Hello home!

I sat on the corner of my bed and debated whether I was pleased that I had understood the last twenty minutes of the moving men's Japanese conversation or disturbed that it had consisted solely of the phrases:

"This is difficult, isn't it?"

and

"Dangerous, dangerous!"

How the movers had got my office desk into the elevator was to be a mystery for all time. Later, when the movers went back to the truck to collect more boxes, I sneaked out of my apartment and took a look down the hallway. As far as I could see, the lift was unaltered. Maybe, like the Harry Potter Room of Requirement, such feats could only be achieved in times of dire need. Such as when the alternative was nine flights of outdoor concrete steps in a snow storm.

Now though, the desk was wedged between my doorway and the bathroom as it was inched painstakingly around the two right angle bends into my main room. The walls, floors and fitted cupboards had all been covered with thick protective paper. My online dictionary had informed me that string had just been called for, possibly to reattach the fingers of the mover who had just shouted 'dangerous!'.

I was promptly seized by a strong desire to use the toilet.

Instead, I decided to live blog the entire proceeding on Facebook.

Then, two amazing events occurred. The first was that the desk was in my apartment and no one had died. The second was that it was a perfect fit for the alcove by my window. It could have been made for it... by a different architect to the one who had designed the entrance way. The fit was so snug that it wasn't possible for the person lifting the back of the desk to escape once it was in place. Personally, I would have got the desk near enough and pushed, but this was evidently not the slap-dash solution that was acceptable in Japan. Instead, one of the movers backed into the corner and then climbed out through the window onto the balcony, returning through the patio doors.

... then they realised they hadn't put the metal feet back on the desk.

Back the man climbed, the feet fitted and the desk lifted back into position. I could really only gape in admiration. After this came the bookcases, the desk chair, the dresser and boxes and boxes of books.

"I like books," I told the men cheerfully in Japanese.

If I were honest, I'd say the resulting laughter was rather dry.

I sat on my bed with the list of boxes I had been given in Canada. As each new box came in, one of the movers shouted the number out in English. I repeated it in Japanese and we both ticked it off our lists.

There was something slightly odd about that, but I didn't have time to dwell on it.

Finally, everything was in my apartment apart from the sofabed which seemed to be taking 5 in the hallway. Then the men started opening the boxes.

They were going to unpack. Seriously?!

THIS WAS THE GREATEST THING EVER!

I suppose since the company in Canada had packed, unpacking was part of the service but I was still taken by surprise. Not that I was about to complain; possibly the greatest part of this would be that the movers would take away all the empty boxes. In a place where my trash was already sorted into seven different containers, I did not relish the prospect of dealing with all the cardboard.

One of the men lifted up a collection of small books and studied the covers for a moment. "Japanese," he said in surprise. "Tenisu no Oujisama."

"Echizen Ryoma." Another of the other movers volunteered the progenitor's name in the series.

Oh guys, you have only just touched on my obsession here. Wait until you find the other comics, the CD singles and the fan-made, explicitly drawn, doujinshi manga...

... actually, I should probably find that first. Grabbing a likely looking box, I ripped off the tape.

In another box, my astrophysics texts had been found. One of the men lifted up the copy of "An Introduction to Modern Astrophysics" with two hands and an expression that said he'd found the reason he wasn't going to be able to walk tomorrow morning.

"Tenmongaku," I said cheerfully. "Astronomy."

"Hn," came the disgruntled answer.

My queen-sized duvet had become the flattened size of a pillow during its three months of captivity. I fluffed it about and then left it in a corner to think about air.

Finally (now there was some floor space) the sofabed was guided into position and --just for that final mind blowing effort-- one of the movers polished the floor with a cloth in case he had left a mark. It was doubtful he had; before they started the agonising process of getting the desk into the apartment, all the movers had politely taken off their shoes. Only in Japan.

Japan is a totally non-tipping culture. You don't leave extra money in restaurants, taxis or bars. Nevertheless, these movers had done an extraordinary job and I would have liked to give them something. I dug out my computer from under the inflating duvet and sent out a quick message to a Japanese friend:

"Can I tip?"

She wrote back, "You don't have to, but you can if you think they were really good."

I glanced over at the desk. Hell yes.

As the men prepared to leave, I handed one of the movers a small pile of notes. He stepped back in refusal but took them when I tried to explain that I thought their work had been amazing. Hopefully this means that tipping was OK and not that I have condemned him to a life of HARDSHIP, PAIN and MISERY while he tries to explain the extra income to his boss, his wife and his particularly accusatory pet dog.

Then they were gone. I moved from the cushion on the floor to the sofa and examined the contents of the room. Ooh, hello snowboots, how I've missed you!

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Bumble bugs

"One good thing about this cold weather: if you flooded your backyard rink last night, it's looking pretty good this morning!"

One hand emerged from the pile of bedding to switch off the radio before I tumbled onto the floor. It was cold, but what did I care? I was going to Santiago where the temperature was in the 30s (that's in centigrade for all you snow-bound East Coasters).

I was packed ... well, mainly. My seminar talk was complete... or at least, most of the graphs were done. The apartment was sorted.... actually, it was in complete disarray, but that was the task for the morning, before dropping the cat at the boarding kennel and heading to the airport.

Look for me, it really was quite organized.

In fact, it was so organized that I found myself digging my car out of the snow an hour and a half before I had to leave. I put the key in the ignition to start the air flows and set about scraping the ice off the rear windscreen. Once done, I was grabbing the keys from the ignition when I decided to turn the engine on.

This was a random, yet fortunate, decision since the car made a loud clicking sound, flashed a random collection of dashboard lights and failed to start.

..... Unfortunate.

I tried again. It couldn't be the battery because the lights and air worked fine. That was a pity because I knew jump-starting a dead battery was potentially a fast fix. I turned everything off and then back on again. Hey, if it works for a computer....

Apparently, Volkswagens are not based on Microsoft Windows.

So on the day I was traversing the length of the globe, my car had broken down. I couldn't even give it up as a bad job until I returned and take an airport shuttle because I had to take the cat to the kennels first.

Calm. Calm.

This was why I was a member of CAA (the sister of the USA's AAA and equivalent to the AA in the UK). I dug out my membership card and called the number listed under 'Emergency roadside assistance', which seemed rather extreme for a breakdown on your own driveway. Still, I certainly didn't want their Monday-Friday membership services number. I explained to the operator that while I was not trapped on a lone highway surrounded by ravenous coyotes, I did have a flight to catch and I'd really appreciate someone coming round in the next hour. Then, my head full of images of my yellow bug being towed away down the snowy road to be hijacked and devoured by said rampant coyotes, I started hunting for a back-up plan.

My first idea of such a contingency operation was to phone a friend who didn't have a car, but might be able to magically make one appear. He was British; I had complete faith in my countrymen. Anyway, I was panicked and rambling, so he was possibly one of the few who would still understand me in such a state.

While refusing to convert my car into a pumpkin and back into airport-bound Cinderella carriage, he did suggest a couple of our friends who he knew had cars and gave me their numbers. Meanwhile, CAA called back to say roadside assistance would be with me in 10 minutes.

I confess to being pretty impressed by this.

I went back out to the car and dully turned the key in the ignition again. The car promptly started.

Um.

In disbelieve, I drove up and down my driveway, almost crashing into the CAA van that had just pulled up.

"It's starting now?" The guy from the CAA seemed unphased by this development as he stepped out of his vehicle, the smoke from his cigarette barely curling past his fingers in the cold air.

"Yeah." I gazed at my car in a mixture of relief and confusion. "Is it possible for fuel to freeze?" It was the only idea that occurred to me that would allow to the car to recover on its own.

I knew that fuel freezing must happen, since I'd heard that elsewhere in Canada it was common practice to plug your car into the mains over night to keep it warm. Yet, surely the freezing temperature for petrol was well below water and it wasn't all that cold.

"Oh, yeah." The CAA guy nodded. "The fuel is mixed with a lot of water and that freezes. You should add fuel-line antifreeze to your tank."

I should?! Why did not one mention this before?! Like when I bought the car .... in Florida. Ah.

Left on my own once again, I took my car for a spin around town to check it was serious about moving. There were a few things that didn't add up about the frozen-fuel theory; in particular, my clock had mysteriously reset and my radio had lost it's pre-tuned stations. Still, I stopped at a gas station and bought a bottle of the suggested anti-freeze to add into the tank. It was covered with toxic warnings. I hope my car enjoyed it.

A few hours later saw me parking at one of the airport satellite 'park n' fly' car parks. I pulled into a space that had become a deep snow drift. What could possibly go wrong?