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I blame Jamie’s friend Diane, who said that biking around Stanley Park was a must-do. I blame Diane’s husband Mark, who sent me several emails asking if we had done it yet. I blame Jamie for listening to them. I blame the bicycle rental company that risked a lawsuit by taking my money and putting a helmet on my head.

For god’s sake, man, I haven’t ridden a bike in 40 years. Jamie probably hasn’t either.

Yes, the ride was on mostly flat ground. And, yes, the scenery was everything that was promised. Maybe even more. But anyone who knows me knows I have no ass. None. And, unfortunately, it is physically impossible to comfortably ride a bicycle 13.7 miles when you have no ass.

This was not a good idea. No matter how beautiful it was.

Early in the ride. My ass has not yet realized that it made a promise that will be very difficult to keep.

 

Mid-way through the ride we stopped at a beautiful little restaurant called the Tea House. We each had a glass of wine. I also had a glass of whine.

 

Note the expert manner in which we are able, toward the end of our ride, to mask our pain and pretend that we are having a delightful afternoon in the woods.

How have we managed to miss this fabulous city all these years? We really knew nothing about it and only put it on our initerary because it’s where we need to catch the train to Toronto.

Turns out it’s a stunning city almost exactly the same size as Seattle. We must have heard a dozen different languages on the street today, which surprised the hell out of us. Makes you wonder if Canadians who speak Arabic end sentences by saying, “Eh?”

I looked it up on Wikipedia, the official source of all inaccurate information. Here’s what it said:

Vancouver is one of the most ethnically and linguistically diverse cities in Canada; 52% of its residents have a first language other than English. Vancouver is classed as a Beta global city. The City of Vancouver encompasses a land area of about 114 square kilometres, giving it a population density of about … 13,590 per square mile. Vancouver is the most densely populated Canadian municipality, and the fourth most densely populated city over 250,000 residents in North America, behind New York City, San Francisco, and Mexico City.

OK, that’s probably more than you wanted to know. So let’s just show a few more photos.

That is not an attractive mug. Definitely need to get more photos of Jamie on this blog or risk losing readers.

Vancouver is beautiful. We fall in love with almost every city we visit (with the notable exceptions of Moscow and St Petersburg, Russia) and Vancouver is no exception. In fact, I think Jamie said, “Let’s move here” in record time. I’m not sure we were out of the industrial area surrounding the airport when she uttered those words I’ve so often heard.

What an introduction to Vancouver. We took a “aqua bus” across the harbor to Granville Island. It was 72 degrees, the water was smooth as glass, and the sky was layered with gorgeous clouds.

 

 

We were taking this selfie and a couple about ten feet away were also taking one. Their camera was mounted on a selfie stick, but they couldn’t figure out how to work it. The man looked over at us and said, “Would y’all take a photo of us?” Y’all? His accent sounded familiar so I asked where they were from. The answer? “Fort Worth.” We fly 1751 miles to another country and the first people we talk to live in our own backyard.

We picked a very poor time to buy the house next door, sell our old house, move from one to the other, and leave on a six-month trip. But, much to our surprise, everything came together at the end and we even had a day to sit back and relax before leaving home. Because, you know, it’s important to relax before you spend six months relaxing.

Here we are standing in front of the new house just moments before leaving for the airport. Everything we need for six months had to fit into one regular suitcase, one carry-on, and two backpacks. This is a major achievement for Jamie, who used to need a steamer trunk to go away for the weekend.

Our driver showed up at 6:55 for a 7:00 a.m. appointment. Very impressive. It was Saturday morning, so the freeway was empty. He texted us that he was home almost before we got checked in. Thanks, Don.

Nothing says bon voyage better than an Egg McMuffin, hash browns, and a cup of coffee. Call me crazy, but my inner demons compel me to eat at McDonald’s whenever I’m at an airport.

In the words of the immortal Jackie Gleason, “And awaaaaaay we go.”

Jamie lost our passports the day we were scheduled to leave on our previous trip around the world. I screwed up our Sri Lanka visas this trip.

When I first suggested that we add Sri Lanka to our itinerary, Jamie thought I was crazy. She didn’t really know much about the country, but was vaguely aware that it’s usually mentioned in the news for two primary reasons: Grinding poverty and a longtime civil war. Neither, she reasoned, were good reasons to visit. Fact is, I’m not even sure why I wanted to visit Sri Lanka except that I was vaguely aware that it’s supposed to be exceptionally beautiful. Well, that and the fact that science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke lived there from 1956 until he died in 2008. I figured that if it was good enough for the author of 2001: A Space Odyssey, it was good enough for me.

I was persistent enough that she did some Googling. She found out that we could take a safari to see elephants in the wild. And I found an absolutely incredible resort built in the middle of an 18th century tea plantation. Believe it or not, the combination of those two things turned Sri Lanka into the one place we most wanted to visit.

Then I screwed up our visas.

You apply for the visas (actually ETAs, Electronic Travel Authorities) online. It was a simple form that any moron could have filled out, but I screwed it up. I didn’t know I’d screwed them up until the next day when they arrived via email. When I read them they said “Must be used before 9-12-15”.

Uh-oh. I started sweating. It appeared to mean that our visas expired the day before we were scheduled to arrive.

The application had asked for our Port of Departure and our travel date and I assumed it meant “Where are you flying from and when do you arrive?” so I wrote “London” and “September 12” but it actually meant “When are you leaving Sri Lanka and from where?” and the answer should have been “Colombo” and “September 22”.

I immediately sent an email to the address shown on the Sri Lanka ETA website. I explained my mistake and begged them to help me correct it. No answer after 24 hours. No answer after 48 hours. So I sent another email. Again, no response.

I should probably point out at this point that I hadn’t mentioned my screw-up to Jamie. Sri Lanka had, by this point, become her obsession, the place she wanted to visit more than any other. She wanted to see the elephants in the wild. She wanted to be pampered at the luxurious Tea Trails plantation. I knew I was dead meat if I couldn’t correct my screw-up.

After a week went by I actually called the Sri Lankan phone number shown on the ETA website. I ended up on one of those frustrating phone systems that takes you around in circles and never actually lets you talk to anyone. I called several times and never got connected to an actual human being. (I couldn’t help but wonder if Sri Lanka companies outsource their phone services to Bangalore, India.)

Desperate, I finally had an idea. I called the visa consultant who got us visas for Russia two years ago. Nothing’s tougher than getting in and out of Russia, so I figured he could solve my problem or at least tell me how to solve it.

Instead, the consultant who had been so helpful two years ago said, “There’s nothing we can do.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked.

“Your nearest Sri Lanka consulate is in Houston. Try calling them and explaining your problem.”

Crap. That wasn’t the answer I wanted.

So I called the consulate and explained my problem to the pleasant young man who answered. He didn’t seem to understand what I was saying. He asked me to explain it again.

“Our ETAs say ‘Must be used before 9-12-15’ and we don’t arrive until September 13.”

He laughed.

“Sir,” he said, still laughing, “In Sri Lanka we put the day first and the month second like they do in England. So 9-12-15 means the ninth day of the twelfth month and your ETAs are valid until 9 December.”

I couldn’t believe it. I made him explain it again.

Whew! What a relief. I don’t have to sit Jamie down and explain that she’s going to miss her elephant safari and her pampering at Tea Trails because her husband is an idiot.

Well, she won’t miss them, but her husband is an idiot.

My buddy Ray sends me books. Many, many books. He reads a lot and sends me the ones he thinks I might enjoy — mostly grisly detective novels featuring quirky detectives in odd locales.

But he recently sent me something different — a memoir called Imperfect Passage: A Sailing Story of Vision, Terror, and Redemption. The author, Michael Cosgrove, is an Orange County insurance agent who confronted his mid-life crisis by buying a small boat and sailing it across the Pacific. Mostly solo.

The first words of the book, sitting right up there atop Chapter One, are the title of this blog post. “A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.” It’s a quote from John Barrymore.

If what Barrymore said is true, I guess I’m not old because I regret absolutely nothing and the only boat I have is a boatload of dreams.

With a little luck, a few more of those dreams will come true on this, our second trip around the world. But unlike Michael Cosgrove, I won’t be sailing solo, because I’ll have Jamie, the best First Mate any man could ever want (despite the fact that she has a tendency to be a bit insubordinate and has a habit of ignoring direct orders).

Ahhh, but you may wonder what kind of dreams still haunt me. More than just a few.

For example, I want to visit Pitcairn Island, the tiny, isolated Pacific Ocean speck of land on which Fletcher Christian and the Bounty mutineers settled after fleeing Tahiti.

In a similar vein, I’ve always wanted to visit St Helena, the British island in the Atlantic, a third of the way between Africa and South America, to which the Brits exiled Napoleon. He died there, probably a victim of British poisoning. A few years ago we stood on the spot where Captain Cook first came ashore on Australia and I got chills knowing that I was standing where such a great man had once stood. I would get the same kind of thrill standing where Napoleon once stood.

Similarly, I want to visit the Canary Islands and stand where Columbus stood before setting sail for the unknown.

I want to see the monkeys frolicking on the Rock of Gibraltar, the remarkable carved heads on Easter Island, and the Galapagos Islands where Darwin’s theories were formulated. I’d like to spend a week exploring every dusty nook and cranny of the Smithsonian Institute in our nation’s capital. I want to go far enough north to see the Northern Lights blazing across the winter sky. I’d like to visit every state (I’m about 2/3 of the way toward that goal). I want to sail through the Panama Canal. I want to visit the crazy spot in Venezuela where the Catatumbo River empties into Lake Maracaibo and lightning strikes nearly 300 times per hour. In the Indian Ocean, I’d like to loll in the sun in the Seychelles and the Maldives and on Mauritius. And I want to toboggan down the hilly streets of Funchal on Madeira.

I’d like to catch a foul ball at a major league baseball game. (Unfortunately, this dream is complicated by the fact that what I really want to catch is a line drive home run ball, but don’t want to sit in the cheap seats necessary to be in home run territory. So I’m willing to settle for a foul ball and the better seats.)

Beyond dreams of travel and adventure, I’d like to finish the book I’ve been working on for several years and actually get it published.

And I’d like to see our five god children graduate from college and living happy, productive lives.

But most of all, I’d like to accomplish all of these dreams with Jamie at my side, alternately telling me I’m crazy and then thanking me for forcing her outside her comfort zone.

Not a bad list. Not a bad list at all.

People always ask us how we ended up taking our first trip around the world. Here’s the answer.

About three years ago Jamie and I were watching an NFL game one Sunday morning when she ventured into a sore subject, one of the few topics on which we disagree.

Jamie: What do you want to do on our next vacation?
Jim: (Reflexively) Let’s go back to Australia.
Jamie: No. I love Australia as much as you do, but we’ve been there on our last six vacations. We need to go somewhere else before we go back again.
Jim: (Disappointed) Really? Where do you want to go?
Jamie: How about Norway? My family’s from Norway and I’ve always wanted to go there.
Jim: (Resigned) Fine. We’ll go to Norway.

At halftime I dug out a world map, because the only thing either of us really knew about Norway was that it’s “up there” to the north of most European countries. We spread the map out before us on the table.

Jim: Look at this. Norway is right next door to Iceland. I’ve always wanted to see Iceland. Let’s go there, too.
Jamie: Iceland and Norway it is. But, you know, I’ve always wanted to visit Sweden and it’s right on the other side of Norway. Let’s go there, too.
Jim: Yeah. And Finland is the only country between Sweden and Russia. We could go to Finland and then visit Russia.
Jamie: (A bit dubious) I’m not really interested in Russia.
Jim: (Ignoring her) I’ve always wanted to take the Trans-Siberian Express.
Jamie: Say what? We’ve been together twenty years and I’ve never heard you mention the Trans-Siberian Express.
Jim: Oh, yeah. It starts off in Moscow, goes all the way across Siberia and ends up in Beijing. It’s supposed to be beautiful.
Jamie: Well, I’m game. Let’s do it. But if we’re going to end up in Beijing, there are some other things I’d like to see in China — the Great Wall, the Terra Cotta Soldiers, pandas….
Jim: And Shanghai. We can’t visit China without seeing Shanghai.
Jamie: (Pointing to the map) What about Hong Kong? If we’re traveling that far, we might as well visit Hong Kong.
Jim: Great idea. And, well, I’ll be damned. Once we’re in Hong Kong, look how close we are to Australia.
Jamie: (Looking askance) I can’t believe it. You’ve managed to take us all the way around the world just to get us back to Australia.
Jim: I am hurt that you would make such an accusation.
Jamie: Hmmmmmmm.
Jim: Hurt, I tell you.

Of course, that was just the beginning. It took months of research and coordination to figure out dates and flights and hotels and visas. It really was a massive undertaking.

Most people never think about going around the world. Even if they had the luxury of enough time to do it right, it’s too complex if you plan it yourself, too expensive if you sign up for a pre-packaged cruise, and too time-consuming if you have a regular job.

For better or worse, I’m obsessive-complusive enough on one hand, and cheap enough on the other, to plan a six month trip around the world that is semi-affordable. And because I have the luxury of being able to make a living on an iPad, it doesn’t matter if I’m working in my living room or in a coffee shop in Ulan Bator. As long as I have an internet connection, I have an office. (I don’t mind admitting this two years after the fact: I had a handful of clients who never knew we’d left the United States and had no idea I was emailing them work from some exotic locale halfway around the world.)

I blogged every detail of our first circumnavigation and everyone seemed to enjoy it.

So what the hell. Let’s do it again.

Yes, we’re doing it again. We had an absolutely spectacular time on our trip two years ago, so we decided to circumnavigate the globe one more time. In fact, we’re thinking of taking off on another adventure every two years as long as our health permits. (I’m in pretty good shape, but Jamie’s falling apart and who knows how long she’ll last.)

We depart on August 8, 2015 and we hope you’ll follow our adventures right here at JimandJamie.com.

We start off in Vancouver, British Columbia. From there we take the train across Canada to Toronto (our experience on the Trans-Siberian Express would have convinced most rational people to avoid trains, but the Canadian train looks delightful. No, really.) From there it’s on to Iceland, Switzerland, the Cotswolds in England, Wales, Sri Lanka (believe it or not, this is the one place to which Jamie and I are most looking forward), Singapore, Bali, Perth in Western Australia, and then we’ll hunker down for three months in South Australia’s Barossa Valley, our unofficial home away from home.

I’ll be blogging every step of the way, relating stories about the places we visit and the things we see, and telling tales of the people we meet. Most of them will be mostly true.

Our itinerary is posted up there on the navigation bar. Just click on Current Itinerary in the navigation bar.

And if you want to relive the craziness of our last trip you can check out the blog posts from our last trip simply by clicking on 2013-2014 Blog Page.

Here, for your reading pleasure, are our favorite posts from our earlier trip around the world. They’re also in chronological order going from west to east. Click around. Laugh. Enjoy.

To read the full version of any story, just click on the blue headline.

San Luis Obispo: The case of the missing passports. I was standing in line at the downtown post office yesterday — our last day in San Luis Obispo — when I received a frantic phone call from Jamie. She was hyperventilating, gasping for air so rapidly that I couldn’t understand what she was saying. She was finally able to blurt out that she had lost our passports.

Stockholm to Helsinki: International incident narrowly avoided. We made new friends on the cruise between Stockholm, Sweden and Helsinki, Finland. And almost lost them.

Moscow, Russia: The three amigos and the Crimean cognac. We boarded the speed train from St Petersburg to Moscow at 1:30 pm and quickly found our seats near the back of the first class car. Seated directly across the aisle from us were two burly Russian men about my age. Like many of the other Russians aboard, they had numerous alcoholic beverages arrayed across their dining trays.

Moscow, Russia: The strangest (and maybe best) day of our trip so far. We got aboard only to find a singer and a guitar player in the front of the bus. The passengers all began waving little flags, the guitar player began playing, the singer began singing, and the bus began rolling down Moscow’s Golden Circle drive. They handed us flags to wave, and we started singing along to a Russian song we’d never heard before. A man wearing a sash got up and made a speech that made everyone cheer. A woman came down the aisle and handed everyone — us included — caviar in little pastry cups.

Somewhere in Siberia: Our alternate dining experience. She was making absolutely no progress in her conversation with the shop owner because she was speaking English exclusively and he was speaking Russian exclusively. Jamie seems to believe that if she repeats something often enough in English the language will miraculously become intelligible to people who have never before comprehended it.

On the Chinese border: What Russian border agents think isn’t always what they say. First a tough-looking hombre with a drug-sniffing dog came through the train. While the uniformed agent stood outside our door, his dog ran into our car, sniffed around quickly, found nothing and automatically ran to the next compartment to repeat the process. The agent said not a word, but gave us a look that said, This is a great job. The dog does all the work and I get to stand here scaring the hell out of weak kneed Americanski tourists. How the hell did these clowns win the Cold War?

Xi’ An, China: Jamie and the Buddhist monks. When we finally moseyed out to our gate there were two open seats next to the the monks. I said, “Let’s go sit next to them, Jamie. This should be interesting.” She, of course, thought I was insane. Especially when I insisted that she take the seat next to them.

Chengdu, China: A study in black and white. As far as Jamie’s concerned our ’round the world trip is now a success and it’s all down hill from here. Screw the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, the Terra Cotta Soldiers, Beijing and Shanghai. Screw ’em all. If we had to come home tomorrow, she’d be ok with it.

Chengdu, China: Jim tries his hand at diplomacy. Do you know anyone who’s studying Chinese? We don’t. But everyone here in China is learning English. I mean everyone. As we were walking through the Panda park this morning we passed this group of kids and their teachers. The little boys all shouted, “Hello!”

Chengdu, China: Dinner with the girls. Hot pots are a very popular dish in China, but especially here in Chengdu. Jamie had no idea what a hot pot was, but decided that we should try one for dinner. She found a restaurant that specializes in hot pots just around the corner from our hotel. We went in and sat down, but realized pretty quickly that we were in trouble. The menu was entirely in Chinese with no English translations and none of the waitresses spoke a word of English.

Shanghai, China: Jamie announces that she’s leaving me. Despite the fact that this is the 19th anniversary of our first date, Jamie walked out of the bathroom this morning and announced that she’s leaving me. I know this comes as a huge shock to our friends and loved ones and I’d like to give you more details, but I’m unable to do that until I tell you this story.

Exmouth, Western Australia: Frolicking on the Ningaloo Reef. Everyone’s heard of the Great Barrier Reef, which sits off Australia’s east coast, but almost no one’s heard of the west coast’s nearly-as-impressive Ningaloo Reef. And even fewer people have visited it. Here’s one major difference between the two reefs: It takes an hour long boat trip to reach the Great Barrier Reef, but the Ningaloo Reef is so close to shore that you’ll only be about waist deep in water by the time you reach it.

Broome, Western Australia: There’s a frog in our toilet. There’s a frog in our toilet in Broome, Western Australia. I’ve tried to get him out, but he’s a clever little bugger and always manages to climb into an inaccessible little crevice where I can’t reach him.

Broome, Western Australia: Like Maui 30 years ago. Maybe even better. I used to love Maui so much that I thought I’d retire there but that dream ended when the island began turning into a smaller version of Waikiki. Too much traffic, too many tourists, too many condos, and the last straw for me, a Costco. I missed the small town Maui that I loved so much on my first visit. That explains why we love Broome.

Broome, Western Australia: One hump or two? On one of our earlier trips down under we were driving across the Nullarbor Plains from Adelaide to Perth. It’s a long, boring three-day drive and Jamie had just tilted her seat back to take a little nap when I slammed on the brakes and screamed, “Camel!”

Tennant Creek, Northern Territory: Did we do something horrible in a prior life to deserve this? In my defense our hotel got the top score among Tennant Creek hotels on TripAdvisor. But that’s kind of like saying your sister was the best-looking contestant in an ugly woman pageant.

Angaston, South Australia: Jaimie’s hooked on an Aussie soap opera. Please take my advice: Do not attempt to speak to her while “Home and Away” is airing. At best she will shush you and demand that you speak to the hand. At worst she will bite your head off.

Kalgoorlie, Western Australia: Jesus Jimmy and the Langer Sisters. Sometimes life takes interesting, unexpected twists. And that’s why we ended up having dinner with people I never expected to see again in a town we never expected to visit again.

Honolulu, Hawaii: Just as I was about to say it’s been a perfect six months… This was going to be a story about how unexpectedly well, how remarkably well, in fact, that this trip has gone. How we never missed a flight nor a train. How every piece of luggage arrived where it was supposed to be when it was supposed to be there. How we never had a bad hotel except in the outback where our expectations were reasonably low. How we never had a really bad meal. How we never lost anything. How incredibly healthy we’ve been. How warmly we’ve been greeted and treated everywhere we’ve gone. But then we got to the last 24 hours of the trip.