Feb 7 - The Blowfish Hotel - Lagos

Blowfish expand like globes. They are cute water versions of porcupines. Nevertheless, I would have never expected to stay at a hotel with this name. I did in Lagos. Everyone locally calls it the Blue Fish, it sounds more pristine and inviting. I agree. I have never scratched the surface of a blowfish but I imagine surprises. That’s what I have found at this relatively small boutique hotel in the heart of Victoria Island. It is so secluded that it has no sign on the door (apparently you pay a lot of money for such signs in Nigeria); so one enters the place like a secret guest through the garage front door.

Bright pink external walls, the Blowfish invites you with its furniture, its many bellmen, porters and other uniformed staff. Wow, it seems like it is going to be a good stay! Oh, wait a minute… my newly assigned tiny room hasn’t been cleaned, it looks like somebody just got up… and the toilet, oh no… what happened? Not a nice welcoming ceremony. Ok, after a few minutes, the baby-looking manager with an Arab accent comes to my rescue. He apologizes a million times and ‘upgrades’ me to a corner room where I can actually walk a bit. I like the windows facing the street and I settle down for one night. The internet is not working… but it must be down for now, maybe tomorrow. But tomorrow never comes. I cannot even see the wireless network on the list of available ones. I’ll have to live for 4 days without access to my inbox. My consolation, phones and blackberries work just fine.

I find this hotel a resemblance of the two extreme realities of our world. On one hand a very wealthy elite who “enjoys” the benefits of good food, fine shelter, and a social life. On the other, the vast majority a nation (and many nations), working hard to please that elite, trying to make ends meet (sometimes at whatever cost).

The Blowfish administration is trying to fill the gap between those ends. Good luck! And here we are, westerners, asking for lotion in the bathroom, clean water, reliable internet… when I complain about the service I am left with this bitter sense of guilt inside… How can I dare to ask for more?

The same combo goes for luxury cars driving on dirt roads and the poorest people talking on cell phones. We forget, I forget, how this is, because in Canada things seem much different. Although, we can always scratch the surface, and dig a little deeper to find out that the poor will always be there and be more than we imaines (ask the organizers of the Vancouver Olympics). We are sitting on a very privileged chair in a small dining room. Although… chairs can always tumble and fall…

I wrote this in the silence of my secluded fortress:
“In the open night, abandoned at their mercy and with no tail to rid them of mosquitoes, two men lay down on a straw mat. Instead, they scratch their legs with their toe nails. Their dusty sandals as pillows. The heavens as the infinite end they could sink into. They try to sleep. They toss around while the palm trees hardly move. The only street light in their faces is a reminder of the cement floor on which they try to rest. They are lying on the backyard of a big house besides a shiny Land Rover. The humid air weighing on their shirtless bodies. They evaporate in sweat. Rub their chests with naked hands. Once in a while, get up to pray… on the same mat. They kneel and stand, kneel and stand with silent prayers. They also play with the keypad on their cell phones. They call people and throw laughs around in retaliation. They seem restless. They go out onto the road to shake hands with other pals. They piss on the walls. I see them through the window of my air conditioned room on the third floor. I wonder when they are going to start the next revolution. And I see motorcycles stop. People chat. Passing cars give me snapshots of life with their beam lights. I see hollow roads, and moving shadows that bounce around. I hear ghosts of the past; I see spirits of the present. And they talk with loud enthusiasm and even smoke despite the pressing heat. But the sounds of engines swallow any singing”.

Requirement of the day: reliable internet and laundry.
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Feb 2 Fela Kuti and my journey to Abuja - Nigeria

Some technical difficulties and a loss… but here I am. I have arrived in Abuja, capital city of Nigeria. It is my first time visiting West Africa. As we flew over the Mediterranean sea and entered Africa through Tunisia and Morocco (waving to my friends P+B)... my interest in the dessert grew. The flight satellite image looked like this massive extension of yellowish/orange land that ended on a green bank… Nigeria. Desserts are maegestic (Sheila, you should follow your dad steps and tell us that story...)
I am a bit sad because I left my video camera on the plane. That means that I may not be able to video blog the way I had planned. The unexpected happened… I was just wondering what everything had gone so smooth… I have this idiosyncratic believe that there’s always a stone in the shoe… perhaps because I know how distracted I can be. I can pack the perfect suitcase and forget the most important item from my list… oh darn!
So far so good. Entering Nigeria was simple, friendly, easy. Yes, it was warm but manageable; and the Canadian embassy people were there waiting for us. I got a new phone SIM card and exchanged some US into Naira. Two things I forgot to bring: a 3 leg converter (those which look like fridge plugs) and my iPod charger. The hotel is ok, and the Tuesday’s seafood buffet was great as well as the local beer, Star. I can hear the reggae like music on the different patios. I swear I heard Spanish Salsa music on the elevator before. I am now fighting with the internet connection for the service to work. It did earlier on but now it is simply dead… and I called the front desk to ask for assistance and they promised to call me back… 10 minutes ago.
I slept on the plane and listened to music; but also finished my first book by a Nigerian author. I shall talk about it tomorrow. It was fun. I also started a play by another famous Nigerian author (clue: he has one of the most amazing hair-dues... can you guess?). I can already see some similarities between the two storytellers.
What does this city smell like? Hard to say. It’s a combination of smells: the air conditioning, fried sweet plantains, sweat combined with expensive perfume, liquor, serene forest breeze. What does it feel like? It feels like things work but at their own pace. People are way friendly but extremely laid back. They do their minimum possible as not to stress and assure you everything is going to be fine. I kind of like that. They are pretty, well groomed, some men tall and strong; women play with their hair and their hips. They greet you as you pass by, but not with the Asian ceremony… it is more like a next-door neighbour type of attitude.
Fela Kuti (from Wikipedia) was born in 1938 and left this world in August 1997. He was a Nigerian multi-instrumentalist musician and composer, pioneer of afrobeat music, human rights activist, and political maverick. He's been my friend and travel companion since S and I watched The Visitor a couple of year ao. Here goes excentric Fela!


And of course, the movie of the day: The visitor (2008) directed by Thomas McCarthy. If you've watched the TV series "Six Feet Under" you will recognize Mr. Richard Jenkins who plays cold Professor Walter Vale.
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Jan 2 Chateau Frontenac – Quebec City – Canada

La Ville de Québec was founded in 1608. It recently celebrated 400 years of existence and resistance. This walled city, one of the oldest European settlements in North America has remained a symbol and a beacon for French Canada. The Château Frontenac is an imposing hotel within the old city overlooking the Saint Laurence river, la Citadelle and the famous plains of Abraham where the British army lead by General Wolfe fought French General Montcalm (neither one lived to tell about it). The Château, ‘the castle’, was inaugurated in 1893 as another stop point along the Canadian Pacific railway.
As I shop at Simons along rue Saint Jean, under a constant fall of snowflakes, I remember meeting 'Bonhomme' during my first and only winter Carnival in 2004 at -35 degrees (http://www.carnaval.qc.ca/2010/fr) . 'Le Carnaval' is a freezing excuse to visit Quebec in the winter time.

I love this city for its preserved history, for its surprising jewels, for the randomness of its curvy streets. It's got style, it tells stories. One can easily entertain in ghost tales, war stories, and narrations of heroes and princesses along with political disagreements, younger revolutions and the contemporary evolution of the French language. The past smoothly meets the present while the youngsters sunbathe on the edges of the fortified city walls and the horse carriages tour visitors right behind an electric bus. In every season, this UNESCO World Heritage site is worth a visit.

Tip of the day: I recommend the “3 Quick & Easy Walking Tours of Old Quebec” guide. Each of the three tours starts at the Samuel de Champlain monument. You can request the guide at the Maison Historique James Thompson (47, Rue St. Ursule). Greg, the owner, is very nice!
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Jan 1 Auberge Saint Antoine – Quebec City – Canada

The Saint Antoine (my patron) is the kind of hotel that gives you decoration ideas. Excellent use of space. Its theme: archeological findings. The auberge has exposed foundations as well as these neat glass cubes within the stone walls displaying “recovered artifacts”. I bid farewell to 2009 with a 6-course meal at Panage (chef executif Francois Blais)… Saint-Sylvestre menu: Duck Foi Gras with Pear and Almond (Vin Gris semi-sweet L'Orfailleur, Canada 2006); Atlantic Scallop with New Brunswick Caviar Mousseline Sauce (Villa Bucci wine, Italy, Reserve 2004); Liquorice Perfumed Veal, sweetbread with Rosemary Sauce and Lemon Pulp (Lithos la Clape, Fench wine, 2007); Nunavut Wild Caribou "En Panade de Cepes" with Porcini Mushroom Mustard Sauce (Ernie Els Wine, Elizabeth Els Vineyard, South Africa, 2004); Organic Blue Cheese "Le Bleu D'Elizabeth" with Candid fruit (In Pincis Wine, Agricola San Felice, Italy 1997); Chocolate, Cigar and Rhum (Ron Santa Teresa).

And before I could start the countdown (distracted by those 5 glasses of wine and a shot of Venezuelan rhum), the New Year was upon me. Personal resolutions: can’t think of all but I’d like to cook more and exercise the art of eating slowly. In addition to my gourmet ambitions I’d like to attempt a photo-video project that involves this blog. My job as an international marketer and recruiter for Algonquin College in Ottawa requires much traveling. I constantly meet prospective college students from around the world and try to lure them to Canada. As I visit all these places, and meet interesting people, taste local foods, I plan to record my personal impressions. A year in snap shots. I aim to quote local authors and explorers who have written about those places while I add my notes as the voice of a curious onlooker. In a previous life, or in the core of my alter ego, I was or have been a writer… my blog shall serve as the window to my personal take on our intriguing world.

Today’s author is Quebec City born Claire Montreuil (1914), popularly known as Claire Martin. Martin is a winner of the Governor General’s award in 1966 with La Joue Droite ('The right Cheek'). Her autobiography "In an Iron Glove" (Dans un Gant de Fer) narrates her nightmerish experience at the Ursulines Convent in QC.

Tip of the day: Quebec City, La Ville de Quebec is a place one must see in this lifetime.
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