Bon Hiver Quebec City

The Valdmanis Family

What began 10 years ago as a romantic Valentine's Day getaway, has turned into a dream come true family vacation.

A decade ago, Richard and I escaped on Valentine's Day to Quebec City in the dead of winter.  Little did we know at the time, this special weekend would be the beginning of an annual trip, which would eventually be shared with our angels - 'nos fleurs d'amour' - Laird and Dylan.  Our romantic February 14th getaway, just so happened to coincide with Quebec City's Winter Carnival - a glorious celebration of winter.

This was our 7th trip to the historic city, as living in Africa and abiding by a teacher's calendar year vacation schedule made it impossible to go during the last 3 years.

We stayed at our usual hotel, this time upgrading to a perfect suite to accommodate our family size.  We enjoyed the below zero temperatures for hours and hours...skating, sledding, and simply walking around the historic city.  We enjoyed hot chocolate to warm up, Kilkenney at our favorite pubs, and warming up at the outdoor fire at the ice bar.

Laird and Dylan blasted their Winter Carnival Trumpets throughout the village, and even slept with their beloved new instruments after promising to not blow the horn indoors.  (See pic below).

It wasn't like the old trips. It was better. It was a reminder of the romance that brought Richard and I together, and a celebration of the little miracles - Laird, Dylan, our family - that our love created.

Dylan and Laird, having a giggle on the ice rink.

Rico and Suave, at the Montreal Queen Elizabeth Hotel.

Sweet Dylan and his pursed lip.  (He does this when he's happy, and it makes my heart melt every time.)

Dadda and his dream come true.

We found the Bonhomme  d'hiver at the Chateau Frontenac! 

King Laird and King Dylan blowing the trumpets at the Ice Bar!

Warming up by the fire.

Dylan, fast asleep, with his new trumpet.

Kelly Quatre-Quatre (4x4) - Pronounced 'Kelly Cat Cat'

Nothing but desert ahead.

I could feel the blood rushing into my face as the car engine strained and then cut out. The entire Valdmanis Team Africa was suddenly stuck in a desert, seated comfortably inside our new Kia Sportage, which had become a virtual solar oven. It was over 100 degrees outside. I turned the key to restart the car, checked the four-wheel-drive was engaged, shifted into first and gunned it. Again the engine strained, but the wheels wouldn't turn and we stalled. I imagined lightly roasted Valdmanii as I looked around at the sand, a tall dune on either side of us, I wondered how we'd survive this latest adventure.

We were doing a day-trip from Dakar to Lac Rose, a lagoon so salty that when the sun catches it right, it appears pink -- hence the name. Apparently, it's 5 times more salty than the sea. On the south side of the lake, artisinal harvesters tend to mountains of the salt dredged from the lake bed, loading it up onto trucks bound for the markets of Dakar and Thies. On the north side, a lonely dirt track leads to a few quiet inns, horse stables and restaurants. We had just finished lunch at one of these restaurants, run by a French chef, and had inquired whether it was possible to circumnavigate the lake.

"If you have four wheel drive, it should be possible," was the response.

I was now regreting our choice to try. We'd followed the track, which quickly disappeared into abroad expanse of sand. We managed to climb a first large dune and slide down its side into a low area, and we were now imprisoned by hills of deep, thick sand all around us. I imagined Kelly and I having to carry Laird and Dylan under the opressive sun to go find help. I imagined the trouble we'd need to go through to find a truck tough enough to drag us out. Would we be stuck here for the night? For days? That's when Kelly Quatre-Quatre arrived like a super hero, occupying the body of my lovely wife.

"Calm down, you'll upset the boys," she said in a relaxed tone. "I'll take care of this, let me drive."

I got out of the car and Kelly Quatre-Quatre (Quatre-Quatre is four-by-four in French, and is pronounced "Cat-Cat") got into the driver's seat. She put the car into reverse and backed up 100 yards along the dune to the top.

"Reverse is the strongest gear," she informed as a wave of relief came over me.

We could now easily roll down the dune to the more solid dirt road and return to Dakar the wat we came, I thought. At that moment, two men from the village appeared and suggested that, instead of retreating down the dune like wimps, we should deflate our tires a bit and continue on the rest of the way.

"It should be possible," they said. "You just need to deflate your tires."

I was dubious, but Kelly Quatre-Quatre was full of confidence. She was certainly ready for a challenge. We allowed some air out of the tires, cranked up the car and waved our goodbyes to the encouraging villagers.

Kelly Quatre-Quatre gunned it down the dune and started plowing through the desert like a pro, the car rim-deep in sand. The steering wheel was cranked all the way to the right, yet we were going straight. The farther we went, the more nervous I felt. We were leaving help, water, a real road in our wake. A large dune loomed ahead. Kelly Quatre-Quatre downshifted and started the climb. At a snail's pace, the car rose up the hill and, impossibly, reached the top. Another descent, another hill. My heart was beating, as Laird and Dylan cooed in the back, clearly feeling the excitement.

"This is awesome," Kelly Quatre-Quatre whispered with excitement.

"Who are you?" I thought to myself.

A kilometer or two through the sand and we spotted some vegetation, and then, in the distance, evidence of a building, which surely meant a road. The engine continued to strain. We climbed the last sand hill and then dipped between some palm trees and cactuses and onto a potholed dirt track, home free.

"There, that's how its done," Kelly Quatre-Quatre said as we high-fived. "Now you drive."

I got into the driver's seat, and my lovely wife hopped in beside me.

Two of the locals letting air out of the tires.

Look how deep these wheels are buried!

And of course, camels...after all, it was the desert.

Laird looking out at the Salt Lake at the restaurant.

Dylan asleep with his beloved new Senegalese plane.

Snuggling a Lobster and Blue Dog Under the Stars...

A long overdue, but special entry...

On our way to the island in the Valdmanis boat.

Laird and Dylan camped on Richmond Island in mid-July, braving the three-mile boat ride from the Spurwink River with their parents to visit one of Maine's most storied and magical spots. It was one of the highlights of our trip to Maine this summer.

We got there early enough to swim and frolick, eat wild raspberries, and search for seashells. We spotted the rams in the meadow, and counted fishing boats steaming by offshore. After hours of fun, our main concern was that they wouldn't take kindly to getting zipped up in a tent at 7pm, when the sun was still comfortably off the horizon.

But our fears were ill-placed. They were tired and out like lights within minutes, Laird sucking on his blue dog, and Dylan snuggling his lobster as the lapping of waves lulled them into dreamland.

Laird, asleep sucking his beloved Blue Dog.

Dylan snuggling his Lobster under the stars.

That gave Mom and Dad time to enjoy the sunset and later the stars, with frosty beers in front of the beach fire. Richmond is one of the most lovely places on earth -- the indians had clam bakes there hundreds of years ago, the explorer Jacques Cartier admired it in his journal on his way to the St. Lawrence seaway, and more recently, Tim and Lindy Nudd fell in love there by the light of a campfire.

Its nice that Laird and Dylan, at only 18 months, have found it too.

Sand, sand, and more sand.

Mom and Laird

Teaching the boys about the fire pit. Laird kept saying 'Hot. Hot'.

And what a wonderful way to start the day...an early morning breakfast as the sun rises above the sea, surrounded by Canadian Geese.

Gary the White Warlock

When Kelly's dad Gary yanked off his thumb, he let out a yell, and then quickly put it back on. Shocked, the five children who had been watching this strange 'toubab' ( the Wolof word for anyone who isn't black' ) turned and ran shrieking into the maze of houses lining the dusty street near the fisherman's beach of Soumbedioune. It isn't often that a white guy with no hair wanders through this part of town, let alone one who stops to display his magical powers. Within a couple of minutes more than a dozen kids ran back toward Gary, the white warlock, for another show.

"Owwwwwch!!!" Gary said as he pulled off his thumb again. This time, the kids who have seen it before stand bravely watching while several of the others' jaws drop open as they turn to run.

Another demonstration, and then another and Gary reveals the trick, the kids laughing and smiling as they trip over eachother for a closer look and try to immitate it.

This was the scene last week on Gary and Cilla's last day in Senegal, during a quick trip to a tailor's shop in this neighborhood of Dakar. And it wasn't the first time they drew a crowd during their week-long visit. Everywhere they went, they made friends, and the kids particularly loved and feared Gary's antics.

"Toubab!!!" they would yell as they spotted him driving by along the Petite Cote. At a beachside village, Gary drew yet another youthful mob, frightening several of them half to death with his 'yank the thumb off' trick, and giving the other half a laugh they will likely never forget. It was unclear if he was reinforcing their superstitions about witches and warlocks

and strange gri-gri, or eroding them.

It wasn't just the Senegalese kids that enjoyed Gary and Cilla's visit -- the entire Team Valdmanis Africa did, and we're all very grateful. Laird and Dylan were over the moon to see Nana and Grampy in Africa, and Dylan is still making the duck noises Gary taught him. Both of them say 'Nana' often. They had incredible fun swimming at Toubab Dialaw, oggling the giraffes and rhinos at Bandia, and playing in the inflatable pool at home. And of course Kelly and I were thrilled to see familiar faces from home here in Dakar to share some of our experience first hand.

Thank you Gary and Cilla!

Dakar Airport 101

Dakar airport is one of Africa's most difficult airport to get through... and that's saying a lot. It's a place where anyone and everyone comes to make money by hassling the 'newbies'. If you ever come to this airport, please follow these simple steps which I have already passed along to Dad and Cilla, who are visiting us in 9 days. (If you want to know how NOT to navigate the airport, read our entry we wrote from our arrival in October 2009.)

For Dad and Cilla:

Dakar Airport 101:(print this out)

WHEN YOU LAND:

Your flight from the states to Dakar makes two stops, Dakar and Johannesburg. Dakar is the first stop, so some of the passengers around you will stay on the plane. On the screen on the back of the seat in front of you, you can click Flight Map to see where you are in the sky, and how long until the destination.

Make sure you have your passport handy when you get off the plane. When you exit plane on the tarmac, you will walk about 20 feet towards a bus. Someone will ask for your passport, check your name on a list, and then you will get on the bus.

You will ride the bus literally 30 seconds and get off at the airport. If they gave you entry cards to fill out on the plane, just move forward to the immigration booths. They usually don’t. If not, the cards are inside to the right. You'll have to fill out 2, top and bottom, even though it's the exact same information.

Our address is: 110 Zone xx, Almadies. (If you forget the address or lose this paper, then just write that you will be at the Raddison).My cell is xx-xxx-xxxx. Everyone in Senegal has a cell phone you could borrow if there is an emergency at the airport.

Wait in line at the booths. Hand the man your cards with passports. He’ll probably ask you a few questions that you don’t understand. Say you don’t speak French. He won’t smile and will tell you to go on. You then need to hand the custom cards, which were attached to your entry card, to a guard standing at the doorway. Once you pass the guard, you turn right to the luggage area.

Okay, luggage carts are free, however we have never gotten one because we have so much luggage. There will be lots of men wanting to help you. *Signal to one right away to help, otherwise you will be surrounded. The guy may have 1 partner working with him to help you. I will tip them when you get to us.

Collect all bags, but constantly keep an eye on them. After you collect your bags, you will walk a short way, with your ‘helper’. All bags will then need to go through an x-ray machine. (Rumor has it, that the machine doesn’t work). Then your helper will load the bags back up onto your cart and head out the door.

**Before you head out the door, keep your purse, passport, and wallet safe. This is where it may get ‘hairy’.

You will exit the airport but will be in an outside fenced in area. You should see me across the parking lot. Just wait in that area, just outside the airport, until you see me. You'll still be in a 'hassle free' area at that point. **Don’t leave the fenced in area until you see me, otherwise you will be in hell. If you want, stand aside the doors that you just exited and don’t move any further until you see me.

Say ‘no taxi’, if anyone asks you.

Once you see me, walk until we meet.

And if you made it this far…. Then….IT’S TIME FOR A COCKTAIL! YOU’RE IN FREAKING AFRICA!!!!!!!!!

Welcome to Dakar.

And this is Christmas.

For the last few days, I haven't been able to take a deep breath.

I don’t have asthma, I’m not sick, and I don’t have anxiety (right now, anyway).

It's because of pure and utter excitement.

The last few weeks have not been easy here in West Africa. Richard has been working around the clock...literally. As a journalist in West Africa, he is covering news that is violent, terrifying, and tragic. I have never truly appreciated being a US citizen, and all of our rights, until living here.

We have been falling asleep at night talking about a country that has two presidents, burning tires, smoke bombs, random politically driven killings, and mass graves. At the same time there are also people going through our garbage looking for scraps of food.

While trying to digest the rawness of reality here, we are also dealing with simple ‘day to day’ annoyances... like mild sickness, 8 teeth coming in with constant night wakings, being pulled over by police officers with machine guns simply because you are white, me working more than I should, power outages, water outages, etc.

Etc, etc, etc. Etc, etc, etc. I suppose the 'etc's' could go on...

These annoyances are trivial compared to what many of the people around us here are dealing with.

Christmas is helping us realize how truly blessed and grateful we are.

I have been ‘more than’ excited about Christmas, as this is our first Christmas as a family. It’s our first Christmas with our angels, Laird and Dylan. Granted, they have no idea that it is even Christmas, but for Richard and I, our hearts our so full of love and gratefulness that we can barely contain ourselves.

Last Christmas, we were fighting for their lives… not knowing what the future would bring.

And here we are, blessed with 2 amazing, healthy, happy little angels.

Right now, it’s 80 degrees, the harmatan winds are humming, and we still smell of mosquito spray from Christmas Eve. We miss our families and friends back home more than ever. But Richard and I have managed to get in to the Christmas spirit simply being grateful for what we have.

We are so so so so so blessed.

And so you are you.

Be grateful for what you have. Let go of your daily annoyances. Hug your loved ones and kiss your spouse. Take a moment and look at everything in your life that you have, rather than what you don’t. Take a deep breath and soak it all in. Life is beautiful, short, and wonderful…

Merry Christmas.