Category: Guide Dogs

“Telephone call for Sylvester Stallone” was the message that crackled over the public address system as we approached the pool for the first time. The message convinced us that we had certainly arrived at a posh place! The promotional literature for the complex proclaimed, “Club Regina Puerto Vallarta… Your kind of Paradise.” Sun, sand and sea, greeted you as white as ghosts escaping the gulag conditions of the frozen north.

We began to orientate ourselves to the 21 acre grounds, so much like a park with lots of palm trees and birds chirping. Stone pathways led every which way. With four swimming pools, pool-side restaurants and two bars, it was becoming difficult to find our way, so we plopped down on a couple of lounge chairs at the edge of the beach to ponder our next move.

In a strong brogue, a gentleman who introduced himself as John began to talk with us about the guide dogs and how they travelled. John was from Balmoral Scotland and asked if we had found the open bar to welcome new guests. With the promise of free refreshments, we replied in unison that we’d love a cold drink, so we followed John to the Westin Regina and Club Regina. Protesting that he needed a fresh drink anyway, John enjoyed several rum punches with us and soon we were swapping stories about our travels.

The public address system around the activity pool crackled to life again with another important announcement,… “Saddam Hussein, please proceed to the meeting room immediately. Your time share briefing is about to start.” We had obviously fallen victim to Mexican humour but who can blame us?

We were tired after our flight from Ottawa, which had been postponed for two hours. We arrived at Pearson International Airport in Toronto with less than an hour to travel from terminal three to terminal one and catch our charter flight to the sun. We burst through the doors of the arrival area from the Ottawa flight and there were two Air Transat staff members there to greet us and help us with the transfer. Other travellers in the same predicament swarmed around the Air Transat representatives clamouring for help with luggage to carry and a shuttle bus to board. Flight connection assistance to travellers with disabilities turned out to be a vacation-saver for more than a dozen other travellers.

At the check-in counter, our baggage was tagged and checked. We were over the limit of 20 kilos per passenger in allowable baggage weight. Since this was due to the need to carry two weeks supply of food for our guide dogs, we were not charged for excess weight at five dollars per kilo because the food was for our mobility aids.

Our seats were in row twelve on a Boeing 757 which carried over 200 passengers. Usually, we have the bulkhead to get extra room for the guide dogs but Bruno at Air Transat Customer Care had told us there would be more room in these seats. We were a bit sceptical as we awaited our chance to board the aircraft behind several passengers who used wheelchairs.

We were surprised to enter the aircraft not at the front but in the middle of the cabin. Right behind the emergency exit row seats at the door were two seats with extra space for the service animals as the seat in front had been removed. This was the most comfortable charter flight the dogs have ever had. They could actually lay down and stretch out for a good snooze during the four and a half hour flight to Mexico. Their only interruptions were offerings of ice and the occasional greeting from a dog lover who sought permission to pet the dog as they were sad to have left their animal at home.

Soon it was time to don the harness and put the dogs to work guiding us in a strange place. On the way to Customs, they had a quick pit stop at a convenient patch of grass by the VIP arrival door. Then it was on to the formalities. Pushing the light button at the Customs barrier caused it to light up green and we were on our way. If the button had activated the red light, we would have been required to go through a Customs examination of our luggage. We were lucky and won the Customs search game of chance at the entry door and were officially welcomed into Mexico.

Two weeks of rest and relaxation followed. Late January has a nice climate with warm sunny days and cool evenings which made for good swimming and deep sleep at night. The weather reminded us of the idyllic climate of Hawaii. It was wonderful weather for us but the hotel staff insisted that it was too cold for them to go swimming. After all, to the citizens of Puerto Vallarta, these were winter conditions. Incredulously, we compared the warm sun and light breeze to the snow and arctic blasts we had left behind. The only ice here was the chunks tinkling in the Margarita glasses.

We took an excursion on a boat to see the sites where we met Steve and Vicky and their three small children. We did some snorkelling, visited two secluded beaches, watched a farm family from Illinois try their hand at parasailing, and enjoyed lunch aboard ship as we cruised along the shore line. Lots of fun! All too soon, we were back at the dock sharing a nine passenger van as we returned to the hotel complex.

Although we had planned to take more tours, it was so easy and cheap to take taxis around town, we decided to go on our own to the Malecon to see the statues and look at Old Puerto Vallarta. We had no problems with acceptance of the guide dogs in the cabs. Many people were curious to see how the dogs worked. Many asked their names and, upon learning that the ten year old dog was called Luna, voiced their expectation that the other dog was called Sol. Alas he was not the sun’s name sake but his name was Quincey. He was given the nickname of Pero Macho by the staff who served us at the Italian night festivities at the hotel.

We also enjoyed the weekly Mexican fiesta, called Viva Mexico at the Westin Regina Hotel. The evening featured games, prizes, domestic open bar, snacks and a delicious dinner offering a wide variety of Mexican dishes. We have to confess we drank a bit too much wine that evening in the company of merry-makers from all over. You see, we were worried about the dogs, who do not like fireworks, and had to calm our nerves with wine!

With the help of the attentive staff, we managed to leave just before the program finale with the fireworks. The show featured Folkloric ballet, a mock cockfight, mariachis, a rope twirler, Ranchero singer and the infamous fireworks. It is just as well we had to leave early or we would be still there partying today! As it was, we managed to hop into the balcony hot tub for one final soak of the day, listening while the dogs slept in the apartment.

We were located in one of the newest, most complete Mexican resort developments, Marina Vallarta. The architecture is inspired by the colours of Mexican folklore, the fine virgin textiles, and modern design which expresses a harmony with exotic gardens and the blue of the Pacific Ocean. Club Regina is what we always dream about in the snow and ice of a Canadian winter.

The resort has 203 comfortable and luxurious one or two bedroom suites, with elegant decor and all the amenities: terrace Jacuzzi, ocean or marine view, fully equipped kitchens, air conditioning and fans, smoke detectors, direct-dial telephones, in-room satellite colour televisions with remote control and clock radios.

We had a spacious apartment and each morning we ate our breakfast watching the sun come up. Then it was off to the beach to listen to talking books, swim, and gossip with other tourists. We enjoyed a long walk on the beach, even though there were pebbles underfoot. It was necessary to buy aqua slippers for a dip in the sea without being bothered by the pebbly bottom. The few vendors who sat near the beach entrances, were friendly and not pushy in any way. After a few days we felt secure enough on this almost private beach to unleash the dogs and let them run free for a few minutes each day. The dogs enjoyed the chance to have a swim too. Walking along the water’s edge became an enjoyable daily routine.

Some days we snacked at lunch especially if we had a hardy breakfast. Other days we wandered into the pool side restaurants for lunch. The Tenampa and Tlaquepaque Snack Bar is located between the four swimming pools. Open from 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., it had a good menu of salads and sandwiches. My husband particularly enjoyed the tuna baguette sandwich. He got in the habit of trying the special drink of the day, drinking concoctions from hollowed-out coconut shells and pineapples adorned with bright and beautifully scented flowers.

Even at the pools there was lots of room and it was never a problem to find a lounge chair no matter what time of day it was. So we moved around a fair bit in the late afternoon trying out first one pool and then another. Finally it was time to return to the apartment and watch the sunset from the comfort of our own private balcony hot tub, which our Scottish friend John referred to as his ” weather tub”. At any rate it was nice to soak up the last rays of the sun in the warm water and sip a glass of wine at sunset.

For the first few days we sampled hotel restaurants which, while good, were a bit pricey. At the Westin complex, the fancy restaurant is Garibaldi’s. It has a spectacular palata with Mexican and International cuisines right on the beach. There was music and dancing from 7:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. and then the party continued as the restaurant became an all-night disco.

El Palmar Restaurant overlooks the gardens and offers a wide variety of Mexican and International specialties from 7:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m. Here we enjoyed the Champagne Sunday Brunch, featuring many Mexican dishes and providing a good opportunity to graze.

Our daughter met new friends from many places at a popular attraction, La Cascade Lobby Bar which had live music and happy hour from 6:00 to 7:00 p.m.. We never made it to this bar as so many other activities competed for our time. One problem with paradise is that there is never enough time to do everything! The time crunch is critical so we just put our watches away and followed our spur-of-the-moment decisions.

As the two weeks passed, we went out more and more in the evening to visit a local restaurant downtown or to eat at one of the dozen eating establishments at the Marina. These latter were all within walking distance of the hotel. The following is a list of those we particularly enjoyed along with the type of cuisine and the part of town where they can be found.

Mexican Viva Mexico! Marina Vallarta
Pipi’s Papally St.

Steak House Los Pibes Marina Vallarta

Italian Porto Bello Marina Vallarta

International Las Palomas Marina Vallarta

Bar/Disco Carlos O’Brians Malecon

We found the service attentive and courteous. Prices were extremely reasonable and the food tasty, well prepared and substantial. We did not experience any problems with the water at the hotel or at the restaurants. By the second week we were eating salads and enjoying fruits of all kinds.

Of course we did face the odd challenge. Carrying a letter from the Mexican Embassy, usually solved any access problems related to our service animals, except for one night. We had run into our old acquaintance John at the Marina and had lingered over dinner chatting with him and his wife Vivian. So we returned to the hotel rather late only to meet security guards who did not want to let us in. They seemed intent on shooing us out into the Mexican night for a sleep under the stars. Eventually we did gain admittance and the next morning we were assured that all would be well for the rest of our stay. We received a letter of apology and a fruit basket as a gesture of regret. We never again had a problem and on several occasions when we returned from excursions, security staff rushed to open the taxi door for us and help us to enter the hotel.

Marie-Claude, the Canadian Holidays representative at our hotel, indicated that a wheelchair user had been among the four or five parties of visitors who had come already this winter. We met several tourists who used wheelchairs including a gentleman from Winnipeg, who was enjoying his vacation as much as we were. Although little difficulty using wheelchairs was experienced within the grounds of the Westin Regina, most users had to transfer to car seats for any excursions outside the hotel. Sidewalks were narrow, uneven and with high curbs. Once at the Marina, most of the restaurants could be accessed with a bit of help from staff. The Marina features a wide flat boulevard and could be accessed from the parking lot with little difficulty. However, the five minute route we walked with our guide dogs from the hotel to the Marina was uneven, festooned with high curbs, hilly with lots of stairs. Since cabs are so cheap and easily available, this is a good alternative for some. Unfortunately, we were told that there were not any accessible cabs in the city. Given the friendliness and helpfulness of the people, it is quite possible most access problems could be worked around, one way or another.

Having visited four places in Mexico over the years, we have to say that Puerto Vallarta was the most pleasant. The people were friendly, outgoing and cheerful. Yes they wanted to make money but smiled and chatted amiably while they conducted business. All in all it was a pleasure spending money in Puerto Vallarta.

He’s never had a sick day in his nine years of work and he’s the only public servant who has earned praise for sleeping under his desk while on the job. I’m talking about Quincey, Chris Stark’s professional, certified guide dog.

During his career, Quincey travelled for the Agency to every province in Canada, many states in the U.S., twice to Paris and Puerto Rico, and on every mode of transportation. He has attended countless trade shows and exhibits, beginning with the Independence 92 World Congress in Vancouver and, most recently, with the People in Motion trade show in Toronto.

The only routine activity during Quincey’s career has been eating his meals at the same time every day  between 6:00 and 7:00 p.m. (with adjustments for different time zones and locales, of course). He travels everywhere with his food bowl, a chewing bone and a toy. He has eaten in airplanes, offices, hotels, parks, and bus station washrooms, as well as other refined establishments.

Quincey understands about 35 words, among them: Come, Leave it, Door, Step, House, Office, and Garbage can, etc. His training as a guide dog follows the British Method, which is also used in Manotick’s School for Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind.

Chris Stark, Quincey’s master and employer, shared some amusing anecdotes with me during our recent interview. Chris mentioned that the reason he got Quincey in the first place was as a result of the urging of his former boss and Director of Accessible Transportation, Karen McLaughlin. You see, Chris used to use a walking cane to find his way around. One day at work, Chris ran into a wall and cut himself so badly, he had to be stitched up. Karen exclaimed, Enough already, get a dog!.

The best working attribute about Quincey was his unmistakable ability to adapt to a new environment very quickly. Once, when Chris went on a Las Vegas vacation, Quincey was always able to find the hotel elevator, which was near some slot machines. The slot machines were moved every night for cleaning, but Quincey would always find the elevator and place his nose directly under the button for Chris to push for service.

What’s next for Quincey? Well, he won’t be lonely in retirement, don’t worry! He will be part of the Stark family household and will see family friends at lunchtime, while Chris and his wife, Marie are at work. Chris works at home one day a week, and Marie has a four-day work week so, Quincey will almost always have a human nearby.

Chris is spending a month in Manotick training with a new guide dog, Ritchie, who is also a Golden Retriever. So, when Ritchie comes home to live with Chris and Marie, who also has a guide dog, Zena, it will be a “three-dog night under the same woof…” I know, I know, Chris said this, not me.

Quincey has given Chris a lot during his career, but mostly he was able to make Chris feel at home anywhere during his travels. Now, Quincey can enjoy being a family pet, as well as a life in the lap of luxury  retirement. I think I can speak for many of us at the Agency, who will miss Quincey, and we wish him well.

The leaves are beginning to turn red and gold. The summer temperatures are giving way to the early morning frosts of fall. It is time to start planning for our annual winter vacation in the warm sun of the Caribbean.

Our guide dogs need relief from the cold temperatures, ice, snow and salt on the sidewalks. Just like we installed air conditioning a year ago to provide the guide dogs with a comfortable home during the unbearably high humidity of an Ottawa summer, we also travel south annually to relieve their winter stress.

Where would the guide dogs like to go this year? Well this question is really, “Who will welcome us with the guide dogs?” Many countries such as Jamaica and Barbados do not exempt guide dogs from their quarantine regulations and so we are not welcome there.

So, we selected St. Martens as there was a direct flight from Ottawa for the first time this year. Off went letters to the tourist board for information about entry requirements. Our request to the St Martens government for a letter of introduction for our guide dogs on official letterhead resulted in the requested document being sent by return mail. Even though this country had no laws guaranteeing access for guide dogs, we now had an official letter which would gain us admittance to most places we wished to visit with our service animals. We also received a list of restaurants, taxi companies and excursion operators which would welcome us with our guide dogs.

Inquiries to the head office of the charter airline operating the flight were warmly received. We were assured our guide dogs would be well looked after on the flight and we would be assigned seats with room for them on the aircraft. Our travel agent started the reservation process with the tour operator. Lo and behold within a week we had a confirmed reservation for the first two weeks of March, payed our deposit and obtained our travel insurance.

The reservation process had never gone so well. We had never before been so eagerly accepted with so little fan fair and so few explanations. The arrangements went so smoothly we stopped worrying about the potential travel pitfalls we had come to expect as an unavoidable part of any vacation trip. We were lulled into a false sense of security. This was going to be the most relaxing and hassle free trip of the many vacations we have taken over the years. We turned our attention to other family priorities.

Several days before Christmas, the bubble burst. Our travel agent called to say that The Mullet Bay Resort and Casino had refused our reservation. This decision was received two months after we had paid our money and received confirmation of our booking. It seemed that this five star property had a “No Dogs Allowed” policy and they intended to include seeing-eye dogs in this prohibition. Well what a fine pickle! We had never before been refused after we had paid our money. This looked like it was becoming another Christmas tragedy. No room at the inn for God’s four-legged creatures.

But the star of Bethlehem must have been shining over us. We were pleasantly surprised by the response of the tour operator. They did not wash their hands of us. We were soon offered an alternative. It seemed a better suited facility for our needs and it was cheaper.

The reservations supervisor and the director of marketing for the tour operator participated in a four-way conference call with us to answer our questions and reassure us. Their professional approach and support soon restored our confidence and good humour, and our vacation plans were back on track. As our anticipation grew, the passage of time seemed to slow down, but finally the long awaited day arrived.

Clutching our boarding cards, we entered the aircraft. Where was the room promised for our service animals? The assigned seats at the bulkhead had about 12 inches of floor space between the bulkhead and the luggage restraining bar beneath the seat. The laws of physics that state two solid objects cannot occupy the same space were well illustrated. There was not even room enough for one guide dog at this seat.

After a prolonged discussion, it was suggested by a crew member that we take the last two aisle seats in the back of the plane and leave our guide dogs in the aisle for take off and landing. After take off, we would be moved to an emergency exit row seat for the flight so that the aisle could be clear for cabin service and passengers travelling to the two rear washrooms.

We were reluctant to accept this arrangement, since we were under the impression that disabled persons were never to sit in emergency exit row seats. But crew members were adamant so we trooped to the back of the aircraft.

Soon all 187 passengers were seated and the plane rolled down the runway and began its ascent. The service animals in the aisle did not have any grip and started to slide away. As the aircraft climbed away from Ottawa, we found ourselves suspended out over the aisle hanging onto our dogs for dear life to keep them with us.

After we reached cruising altitude, we were moved to two emergency exit row seats for the five hour flight. There was so much room for the dogs on the floor that there was plenty of room for our feet as well. The food was good and the service friendly. The hours passed and it was soon time to play musical chairs again–aircraft style– with other passengers as we approached our holiday destination.

As we approached the airport, we hung on to the animals for dear life with visions of them sliding down the aisle and crashing onto the flight deck as we landed — an emergency touchdown no one was anxious to see.

As the hotel was close to the airport and the entry formalities were brief, we were soon relaxing by the pool in the warm Caribbean sun. The dogs had found shade and warm strains of steel band music floated on the breeze. Happy hour started at 5 o’clock at Felix’s pool bar. Drinks were half price. Each night, a good-natured crowd of expatriate local residents and tourists gathered to watch the sun go down. Even Frenchy, the well groomed black Labrador could be seen slinking down the stairs to take his customary place under the bar. That dog’s tab was always paid in full. The sunset colours were bright and soon put a rosy tint on the trials of getting here.

We had a gorgeous apartment overlooking the ocean. It was new, clean, spacious and superbly equipped. There were even scissors, a corkscrew and a can opener in the kitchen ready for our use.

During our entire two week visit, the microwave never worked but we learned from the engineer that neither did any of the other 50 brand new microwave ovens in the building.

There was an amazingly efficient gas stove. When we turned it on, there was a clicking sound and then a ‘whishh’ as the burner was lit. We have always feared gas stoves but this one had lots of audible clues about what was happening and we soon became comfortable with its use.

Each morning for the next fourteen days, we had a leisurely breakfast on the spacious balcony. It took several hours as we sipped our coffee and watched the day brighten into the ever present blue sky, pure white little clouds and strong sun. Each day we would listen to the morning radio program from a different country, including Dominica, Anguilla, St Kitts, Guadeloupe, Montsorat, Antigua, the U.S. and British Virgin Islands.

The radio broadcasts taught us much about the daily activities in these countries. It was a glimpse into another lifestyle. Perhaps the most startling and disquieting news came over the radio stations of Saint Martens itself. A local government leader was whisked away to Curacao and accused of corruption. He was ordered released by a judge after five days. It seems he was arrested improperly and not held legally. On Friday evening, we listened to a live radio broadcast from the Princess Juliana Airport covering his triumphant return which included a noisy motorcade to the capital.

For the next week, the radio stations featured many items relating to political controversy between the citizens and the colonial government in the Netherlands. Instead of long spoken editorials, there were many songs with a Caribbean beat and a strong political message which included the frequently posed question, “When will the Hollanders respect us?”

On the last evening of our stay before going to bed, we listened to the election coverage on Radio Anguilla as the actual vote count was broadcast ballot by ballot. In between time, we spent day after day at the beach of the Pelican Beach Resort, under the shade of a thatched parasol. It was a beautiful rest, filled with frequent swims in the cool sea, pleasant chats with other visitors who came to admire the dogs and lots of time to listen to talking books on the beach. However, our transportation woes were far from over.

We soon found that local taxis would not take the service animals. The list of drivers provided by the tourist board was inaccurate and useless. It was difficult to travel about the island and so we just relaxed at the beach. After all, this was a holiday, not a civil rights march for us. We adapted to this unfortunate situation and made the best of it.

A nurse from Sarnia became aware of our need to travel to the grocery store for supplies. She volunteered to take us in the rental car she had received free for five days as a reward for sitting through a 90 minute time-share sales presentation.

She and our daughter Chantal soon had two weeks supply of food for light meals and we were on our way back to the Atrium, our home away from home for our stay. We were nearly back at the Atrium when we encountered a huge traffic jam.

The opening of the bridge to let the yachts through into the lagoon had brought things to a standstill. After a few minutes of watching other cars drive down the lane for oncoming traffic the few hundred yards to our turn off, she followed suit. No sooner had we started when we met a lone oncoming car whose driver did not bat an eye. He simply drove off the road into a field and around us as we all went on our merry way.

The traffic was chaotic. We learned from the radio that a crash training program was underway for officers to enforce traffic laws. The roads were full of huge potholes and loose rocks. Sidewalks were non-existent. Walking was a dangerous business, especially at night. While we ate out most evenings, we only went to restaurants that we could reach by avoiding the most dangerous traffic situations.

Our entrance elicited the statement ” no dogs allowed”. We presented a photocopy of the letter of introduction. After some discussion, we were seated and had an enjoyable meal. By the end of the repass, the staff were remarking in amazement about the well-trained guide dogs. We left with calls to come again ringing in our ears.

Strange as it may seem, the major hassle about gaining entrance with our service animals happened, not at a local restaurant but at a franchise of an American corporation. Our entrance to Pizza Hut elicited frantic waving and attempts to kick our dogs. After we finally got the pizza parlour people calmed down, we were accepted, but there was to be a charge for having service animals in the restaurant. Enough was enough and we left without ordering supper.

A highlight of our visit was a day long sailing trip to Prickley Pear island. This was a deserted Anguillan island where we swam and enjoyed the beauty of nature. Sailing on the El Tigre was a unique experience. Our competent Scottish skipper took everything in stride–two blind people, two guide dogs and another passenger who was a paraplegic. The day passed all to quickly, talking with fellow voyagers and learning about the sport of sailing. Our Captain had won a trophy the previous weekend competing in the Heiniken Regatta.

The dogs enjoyed lying on the deck and watching the world sail by. Surprisingly, after the trip was over, one of the dogs had a bit of an upset stomach from returning to land after the rocking of the boat. We made a note to ask our vet about Gravol for dogs.

The dogs were remarkably healthy for the two weeks. Twice we gave them a tablet to combat the effects of drinking salt water when they swam in the sea. Everyday we cleaned their ears and combed out their fur. Every two or three days, we applied flea powder. We were quite concerned because there were so many stray dogs on the island and when we returned home, we took extra measures to protect them from heartworm disease.

Perhaps it was the large dog population on the island that was the cause of our unexpected accessibility problems with the service animals. When it came time to leave, we all piled into the bus provided by the tour operator to take us to the airport. The driver then refused to drive the bus because we had two guide dogs on the bus. We all sat on the bus for 15 minutes while the driver stood outside talking to himself.

Finally, a Sunquest representative showed up and eventually sorted the matter out. Our fellow tourists were very supportive and one even made a point of retrieving the copy of the letter we gave to the driver.

We were glad he did. When we arrived at passport control, the official refused to let us pass. She ordered us back to the check-in counter to have the guide dogs crated and shipped with the luggage. She persisted in declaring that we had an attitude problem because we expected our mobility aids to travel with us.

Finally, reason prevailed and we were allowed to pass. As we eagerly boarded the aircraft for the journey home, we couldn’t help but wonder why the islands with the slogan “The Friendly Islands” were not more friendly to visitors who are blind and use guide dogs as mobility aids?

It was snowing hard. Drifts were beginning to form. Sounds were muffled. It was nearly 4 a.m. on Sunday morning and we were waiting for Sam , our cab driver, to take us to the airport, where we would start our vacation to Cancun.

All the previous evening we had listened to reports of the approaching storm. Airports in the mid-west and north-east were gradually closing as the storm crept towards Ottawa.

We had been surprised to learn from our travel agent that travel insurance did not apply until a traveller checked in at the airport to start a trip. If we did not make it to the airport on time, we would lose the money we had paid for the trip and not get to visit Cancun. And as blind people, we could not drive ourselves. We were depending on Sam.

Then we heard the clink of chains and the roar of a powerful engine. Lights swung into our driveway. It was Sam. He was right on time, cheerful and confident as ever. “Not to worry”, he said. “We will make it.” He had put chains on his cab’s wheels. We all piled in and we were off, two guide dogs (Quincey and Luna) and three people hoping to escape the blizzard. Was there really sun and sand to be enjoyed? It was hard to believe.

Sam had the only car on the Queensway. The ploughs were not even out yet. Slow and easy was the order of the day. Sam’s steady hand kept the car moving around the snow drifts. Sure enough, 45 minutes later we were at the check-in counter of Canadian Airlines, showing our passports to a smiling agent who said he wished he were coming with us.

We were early enough to confirm that the seats assigned to us had enough space on the floor for the guide dogs. We had seats 2 D, E and F, which were in a row with more than 33 inches of lateral floor space for the dogs. Most rows have only 24 inches of foot room for each passenger, but our seats were right behind the clothes and luggage closet. A row of seats had been removed to make room for this closet, so there was extra space.

We had made it. Unfortunately 14 other passengers had not. The captain even waited 15 minutes, but finally left to stay ahead of a worsening storm that threatened to close the airport. We later found out that the missing passengers had also had trouble getting to the airport, and had had to fly later via Miami.

Once we landed, the Mexican immigration officer was surprised to see a furry head poked around the edge of his counter, but the Canadian Holidays representative was right there. She soon smoothed things out and we were on our way to the bus and the hotel, where we were assigned a room with a terrace for the dogs to relax on after the long flight.

There was the sand and sea, but where was the sun? It was cloudy and it would rain several times during our visit. But it was so warm that we were not depressed by the rain, especially when we remembered the blizzard.

After a quick meal from the grill in the court yard, we were off to the beach for a walk and then to the pool to rest the afternoon away. At the pool, a few security guards tried to shoo the dogs away, but the guards retreated amid a barrage of comments from other guests indignant at the treatment. We soon got to know many of our fellow visitors. We joined a party from Quebec for supper in the Italian restaurant. It was a joyous evening and we soon found ourselves with them for most of the week.

We had booked an all-inclusive vacation. We did not plan to do much. Days and nights slipped into a pleasant routine of tacos and refried beans for breakfast, mornings at the pool and afternoons on the beach. Evenings were spent with our new friends from Quebec at one of the three restaurants on the property, discussing the day’s happenings over wine and good food. We were all part of a happy-go-lucky group, which gathered around the dinner table every evening and which included an air-conditioning specialist, a magazine publisher and government workers.

Soon our daughter, Chantal, began receiving little delicacies. We all chuckled at the flowers and fancy napkins. Paco, a local boy, shyly told her he liked her. For the rest of the week he seemed to be working at the very restaurant we had reserved for the evening meal and he always managed to serve our table, to the amusement of all and the embarrassment of Chantal.

One day, we all chartered a boat and sailed off to Isle Moheras for snorkelling, swimming and sun. Quincey went in the water once, but Luna would have none of it. Swimming off a boat was not for her. She watched with amusement as the rest of us splashed about the small ship. The only thing we missed was a diving trip.

Riding the buses was no problem for us. Far from being bothered by dogs, the local citizens brought their chickens and other small livestock onto the buses every day. The local shopping malls were another matter. These malls were new and fancy, just like those in Canada. The only Mexican character to these shopping malls were the security guards. When we arrived at the entrance of a mall several security guards would run up wildly gesturing and authoritatively proclaiming, “No perros! No perros!”

We were ready for this, however. Before leaving Canada, we had visited the Mexican Embassy and asked for a letter permitting our dogs in public places, since Mexico does not have laws guaranteeing access for guide dogs and their users. We whipped out this letter , with its gold flecked letterhead, impressive signature and stamps , for inspection by the security guards. Miraculously, the stern gun-toting guards became all smiles and loudly proclaimed, “Si perro! Si perro!” We went happily on our way to spend our money on Mexican blankets, jewellery and liquor, just like all the other tourists.

All too soon it was time to go home and we found ourselves in the lobby bidding goodbye to all our new friends. Our bus arrived. We went down the stairs to board the coach with final good wishes ringing in our ears.

We arrived at the airport and, unfortunately, our plane was on time. We were soon sitting on the apron waiting for clearance to take off from Cancun for Canada. It was a bit of a surprise when a cabin staff member offered us Braille and large-print safety cards to read while we waited to leave Cancun. This bit of Canadian hospitality from Canadian Airlines made the snow waiting for us back home seem not so bad after all.

Ritchie Guide Dog proudly trotted down the boarding bridge and onto the aircraft. He soon settled down to start the long trip across the Pacific back to Canada. He had just completed ten days of work in Japan. As the plane lifted off the runway at Narita Airport, Ritchie began reflecting on his professional successes as “moto ken,” the Japanese equivalent to “guide dog.”

It took a lot of planning to travel to Japan. The Assistance Dog Act came into full effect in Japan a year ago, passed unanimously by the National Diet (Japan’s legislature) to allow persons with disabilities to be accompanied by assistance dogs in all public places. But the law did not take into account that guide dog teams might come from abroad. The act’s definition of a guide dog team stipulates that the team must be trained by an authorized Japanese organization. Thus, in the strictest sense, the law does not apply to animals trained outside of Japan.

We contacted someone involved with guide dog training in Japan. He offered a creative solution and helped make it work. He arranged for Ritchie Guide Dog to be issued a Japanese service animal license – once training and health information had been submitted to the Japanese Guide Dog Association (JGDA). We could then claim the same rights as Japanese guide dog users, following completion of the quarantine formalities.

We sent the information before leaving Canada. A representative from the association met us at the airport and gave us our Japanese Guide Dog Certification document in a bright yellow pouch that was attached to the white guide dog harness.

Ritchie Guide Dog wore this license on his harness throughout his time in Japan. It really helped with access. Officials at the entrances to railway stations, hotels and tourist attractions were reassured by the license and welcomed Ritchie as a transplanted Japanese working animal. At the Hamamatsu Castle entrance, the explanation that Ritchie was a moto ken gained us free entrance while everyone else paid a fee. Ritchie marched up all the steps to the top of this feudal castle to sniff the air of success, high above the treetops of the surrounding gardens and park.

Another hurdle was the two-week animal quarantine required upon entering Japan. The Animal Quarantine Service (AQS) has strict restrictions for dogs. There are no provisions for guide dogs; a dog with skills is still a dog. When we found this out, it looked like the trip had ended before it had begun. I was to attend a world congress on accessible transportation and would be making a presentation, helping to staff the Canada booth and learning about Japanese successes. Ritchie could not do his job under the restrictions outlined by the AQS, which included such terms as “keep the dog isolated completely… from people and other animals.”

In addition, part of the quarantine enforcement regulation stated: “If you cannot follow the terms or directions or you cannot continue the custody for other reasons… we will revoke this permission and take the dog into custody at our facility.” This final condition was scary. I had visions of both of us sleeping in a kennel together – our human/animal bonding means that any separation is strongly resisted.

Fortunately, with the help of the Canadian embassy, the quarantine requirements were adjusted to allow Ritchie to do his work. Upon arrival, there would be an inspection at the quarantine station in the airport terminal building. There was to be a secondary inspection at the conference hotel. However, at arrival, the animal would not have had an opportunity to relieve himself for at least 13 hours. It would be important to give him this opportunity as soon as possible. Once this bodily need had been taken care of, then the guide dog team could proceed through the required remaining formalities – in comfort.

We had a message sent ahead from the plane reminding ground staff at the Narita Airport that Ritchie had a bodily need and it would be helpful to have it met as soon as possible after the 13-hour trip. The message was misinterpreted. We were met by a lady who thought that the human member of the guide dog team needed to go to the bathroom because he could not use the airplane washroom. So Ritchie had to work in the terminal, through human formalities, and then walk to the quarantine inspection office on the sixth floor.

Once there, he was offered a large shower-like basin to relieve himself in, in an examination room filled with steel tables. The big stall was raised above the floor and surrounded by a raised border, which he was expected to hop over. This arrangement did not work. Fortunately, the representative from the Japanese Guide Dog Association arrived and helped all understand that Ritchie had been trained to adhere to a relieving regime. Then it was back on the elevator and down six floors. The JGDA rep accompanied us to a nice piece of grass, where all went the way for which Ritchie had been trained.

In less than five minutes we were back, and patiently waited for all the paperwork to be completed. Daily observations had to be taken and reported in Ritchie’s official health record. Hotel room plans had to be submitted for review, as this would be his place of quarantine. Our hotel rooms, including one on the 33rd floor, were actually inspected to ensure that no unauthorized contact with the local wildlife could occur!

Once Ritchie cleared the formalities and got down to work, he settled in better than most humans visiting Japan. Jetlag was not an issue for him. He slept when he could, day or night. Grass is grass, streets are streets, steps are steps and doors are doors, whether in Canada or Japan. He hunkered down and did his job. He treated the new environment and smells simply as distractions to be coped with. Ritchie Guide Dog even did some tasks for the first time, such as walking on moving sidewalks. After all, Ritchie Dog has been trained to be highly adaptable. He spends his working life adjusting to new and strange obstacles to be navigated around or through.

In fact, after the eleven-hour flight, while Ritchie was refreshed and raring to go following his long sleep, we jet-weary passengers stumbled off the plane in search of rest.

But when we entered the airport hotel room, I promptly waged a battle with the high-tech toilet – and the toilet was clearly the winner.

The first shock was the toilet seat. In better establishments in Japan, the toilet seats are warmed for the comfort of users. Bum burn, not sun burn, became a concern, as the seat was a little too hot.

Then it was time to flush the toilet. There were numerous buttons on a control panel. It didn’t help that they were labelled in Japanese Braille. Tactile raised symbols are not used in Japan, because of the complexity of the writing characters. So there was nothing do but to start pushing buttons and see what happened. Suddenly, the toilet shot back, drenching me with a strong jet of clean water as I leaned over the infernal contraption. This was intended for washing while seated on the throne. Now I was soaking wet, and with only one lever yet to push, I pushed it. As the toilet flushed, I retreated to dry my wounded dignity.

Even the accessible toilets at the conference facility did not operate in a way we were used to. It took some discussion and interpretation to get the hang of their operation. Pushing the wrong button on the wall activated an alarm for the emergency response of the attendant team – with accompanying noise.

In Japan, there are two types of public restrooms, commonly labelled “western toilets” and “Japanese toilets” on their entrances. The traditional seatless, squat-type Japanese lavatory is still widely found. If using public toilets, it is recommended to bring a packet of tissue paper.

All Ritchie needed was some green grass. He found a nice park across the street from the conference hotel with many small grassy, rectangular, decorative plots. They worked fine. No worries about the right toilet for him.

The furniture in Japan is a bit lower than in Canada. Getting up from beds and chairs required the use of muscles not regularly called on in Canada. While I had sore muscles from adjusting to the beds and chairs, Ritchie dog had no such trouble using his four legs to lie down or get up from carpets, as they are always the right height for him anywhere in the world.

Diet was not an issue either. Ritchie travels with meal packs prepared in advance at home. So, the suitcase is heavy on the way out with all his meal packs, and on the way home there is room for souvenirs. Ritchie always knows what is on the menu and where to find his next meal. People, on the other hand, had lots of choices at each meal. Japanese eating establishments have pictures of their dishes in the display windows at the entrance. Ritchie just slept under yet another table as all the rest of us tried to figure out what to eat. A meal of rice and pork at a small family restaurant was enjoyable. Japanese restaurants tend to specialize. Among the most common specialties are sushi, unagi (eel) and soba (buckwheat noodles). Ramen-ya served ramen (egg noodles) in hot broth with vegetables and meat, and traditional restaurants served kaiseki-ryori (Japanese haute cuisine).

Navigation in the “land of the rising sun” was very easy, as Ritchie and I found we could work together like nowhere else in the world. Musical tones helped all people, including people who are blind, to locate entrances to large buildings. Being able to give Ritchie directions (left, right) relieved the stress of trying to distinguish doors from windows. Walking down streets was also easier, as a bright yellow, tactile strip ran down the centre of sidewalks for use by people who are blind. This yellow trail branched off to lead to building entrances and intersection curbs. This was particularly helpful for humans finding crosswalks at T intersections.

These tactile trails were also used very effectively inside large buildings, such as railway stations and airport terminals. They were very useful in traversing large open areas, such as lobbies, where there are few sound cues for directional orientation. Larger rectangular tactile areas denoted entrances. Tactile trails led from entrances to information desks, which made obtaining assistance quite easy.

This was just one of many universal design measures implemented to help everyone. There were visual and audible indicators at all lighted intersections. There were zebra-style white markings at all crosswalks for added pedestrian safety. Sidewalks were spotlessly clean and free from obstacles such as sandwich boards and newspaper dispensers. (There were also few garbage cans around – we surmised that people were expected to take their garbage home with them.) Many pedestrians smoked, but they carried little ashtrays and butt disposal containers in order to take the residue home for disposal.

Bus stops and arriving buses were announced. Since the announcements were in Japanese, we could only marvel on their usefulness. This audio and visual announcement feature was made possible in part by a very strict adherence to timetables. Public transportation left on time and ran on time. This cultural practice of being on time was very beneficial at the conference we attended, as it meant that all speeches ended on time as well.

All announcements, particularly on high-speed trains and subway cars, were preceded by a musical tone to attract attention. This was particularly helpful, as it drew passengers’ attention in time to actually hear the beginning of the announcement. Having an upcoming stop announced in advance helped people with vision disabilities prepare themselves to disembark safely, as opposed to in a panicked rush after the vehicle had arrived. Most subway and train coaches had visual maps showing where the train was, what the next stop was and how long before arrival.

We participated in a very interesting technical tour of accessibility features in the Tokyo transportation network. Of particular interest were an escalator that could accommodate a person using a wheelchair, and tactile markings throughout major transportation terminals. We used the Tokyo subway extensively, including one journey during which we passed 29 stops before reaching our destination.

When we arrived at the conference, everyone watched Ritchie work. Gradually, his professionalism was accepted. People stopped warning us when we approached obstacles. Ritchie passed from being a curiosity to just another participant at the conference. He worked to and from meeting rooms and to events such as a Japanese drum ceremony and gala evening. Ritchie even found the way to the podium at the closing ceremony so that, along with a colleague, we could accept the award for best paper at the conference, which we had co-authored.

Then it was time to return home to Canada. There would be fewer formalities and challenges to gain admittance back into our country. The Canadian Food Inspection Agency, which controls the movement of animals, has a specific provision to facilitate the travel of working animals. Ritchie Guide Dog was not subject to any restrictions upon returning to Canada. After another long, in-flight nap, this moto ken was soon back at work – but on home turf this time.

Chris Stark lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario.

FEATURE

Visiting Israel had been a dream of ours ever since childhood, growing up blind and trying to achieve success and independence. We related to the struggle of people in this new country striving to survive and to make a harsh land bloom again. We had also read several books about Israel, including “Exodus” by Leon Uris. The trials and triumphs in these books motivated us to keep working to succeed, to break down the barriers to acceptance, as we grew into adults.

We decided to make our dream come alive. Chris asked Eli Meiri, an Israeli tour operator specializing in travel for persons with disabilities, to help us organize our trip. Eli worked hard for days, booking hotels close to beaches and relieving areas for our two guide dogs, and instructing hotel staff and tour operators on how to provide barrier-free service to people who are blind.

Stereotypes and Accessibility
One problem came up when Eli was trying to arrange a tour of the country for us. Tour operators thought that people who were blind and travelling by themselves would not be able to follow others on the tour independently, and refused our business. In the end, Eli won the day for us with his gentle persuasion. With his help, United Tours accepted us and went to the dogs for us for a week as they took us from the north to the south of that beautiful country.

Finally, on a sunny day in November, the two of us with our guide dogs — Zena, who is three years old, and Quincey, the old dude at ten — stepped off the plane in Israel after an 11-hour flight. It was wonderful to arrive at Ben Gurion Airport and be met by staff from the Canadian Embassy. The first thing they did was to show us to a patch of grass for the guide dogs to relieve themselves before going in through security. The dogs were the only passengers on the plane who had not been able to go to the washroom for the past 11 hours. They were very happy to see the grass of the Holy Land!

During our visit, we never felt unsafe. The people welcomed us warmly and help was always near at hand. The accessibility amenities we were accustomed to often were not available, but people trying to help made the difference. For example, our first night at the hotel, Abraham, one of the duty managers, showed us the positions of the unmarked buttons on the elevator panel so we could identify them in order to get to the correct destination throughout the hotel. Then, he walked with us to the place we could use to relieve our guide dogs. He also chose our room with ease of access in mind.

As in most countries around the world, the level of accessibility was inconsistent. The newer museums, sites and places of interest seemed to have some accessibility amenities like ramp access. Even most of the older sites, including those in the old city of Jerusalem, could be reached, although often by circuitous routes. We were told that the country’s passenger train service was not accessible by persons who use wheelchairs and there weren’t any accessible tour or city buses in regular use for all citizens. The tendency seemed to be to make “special” arrangements rather than integrated service. It was rare to encounter tactile signage in commercial establishments, or accessible washroom stalls in public places.

Diversity Gone Wild
Israel is a patchwork of differences. The diversity is striking. Hot desert sands and cool green forests thrive. The contrasts create a dazzling beauty. There is a unique harmony of ancient ruins, irrigated high-yielding crops grown in greenhouses, abandoned tanks painted red, green and yellow in children’s playgrounds, a popular fragrant garden of delightful smells and a modern high-tech industry.

The people are just as diverse. We met citizens who came from all parts of the world to make a new home in Israel. There was a long discussion in Russian between the maintenance man and Alice, another hotel duty manager, about how to fix the broken harness handle of Chris’s guide dog, Quincey. Another day, a South African diamond store manager came out and invited us in off the street in the old city of Jerusalem to sit and chat. We sipped a complementary fresh orange juice as we waited for our tour party to return. One of the store clerks asked what our astrological signs were. A couple of minutes later, she handed each of us a silver medal with our astrological sign on it.

Tour ’till You Drop
Israel seemed like a never-ending sightseeing journey of discovery. The tour guides were the finest and most knowledgeable we have ever encountered. They must complete a two-year course to be licensed. Walking through an artists’ quarter in Safed, feeling the markings at a station of the cross on the Via Dolorosa, being guided into the darkness to hear the names and ages of children killed in concentration camps, and traipsing around the ruins of Masada were memorable experiences.

For five days we were up at dawn, ready for the next 12 hours’ discoveries. The tours were cannily crafted into a mix of driving, walking and relaxing, which maximized our ability to absorb the delights of this wonderful land. Thanks to the tour guides, we were freed from the hassles of getting lost, of missing information because we could not read the exhibit descriptions, and of finding washrooms. It was a fantastic experience. The guides loved to talk, and that was the major accommodation we needed to make the tours accessible.

We slept on a kibbutz, walked in the Dan Nature Reserve, learned about Syrian rock rabbits with short ears, visited the Jordan River baptismal site, saw modern art (including the hundreds of coffins Yoko Ono has turned into art at the park of the Dead Sea scrolls), walked through the park at Herzel’s Tomb, where we felt the little stones placed on the tomb as a mark of respect by passersby, and listened to the echo of singing in a Roman amphitheatre.

The companionship of fellow travellers made our days a blur of pleasure. There was a Belgian citizen who worked for an Israeli firm in Brazil setting up irrigation systems for farming. He negotiated a good price for a fez for us. An investment counsellor from Panama, who was visiting Israel to attend a financial conference, told us of many interesting sights as we passed them, like the abandoned army truck monuments along the highway to the 1948 campaign to break the siege of Jerusalem, and the Bedouin with his camel walking near the road. An Italian veterinary surgeon, Philippo, and his wife, Debbie, had lunch with us in the Old City. Trixie, a young Austrian nanny on a break from caring for the children of an Israeli family, chatted with us over supper at the kibbutz.

A retired orthodox Jew walked with us through King David’s castle and helped answer a question for us that stumped the tour guide: If work is not allowed during the Sabbath, is sex considered work and prohibited? As the tour guide stumbled, the retired man indicated that sex was a blessing and thus was a great Friday evening Mitzvah tradition which should always be observed.

Three Vacations in One
The first third of our vacation was spent touring, the second third relaxing in Eilat and the third part in Tel Aviv socializing with new acquaintances.

We met Peggy and Graham from England, who took us on a walking tour of Eilat on our first evening there. From this orientation walk, we learned where the money-changer daily parked his gaily coloured caravan near the entrance of the amusement park. We passed the docks, where the sea dogs barked a greeting to their Canadian cousins.

While in Eilat, we took a six-hour cruise of the Red Sea on the Orionia. We sailed to Egypt and visited a remote coral island where the water was so clear, people could see fish swimming by and told us of the beautiful colours. A crew member volunteered to guide one of us around the coral island after an exciting ride to shore in a small boat.

The beaches changed from the reddish brown sand of the Red Sea to the fine, powdery, white sand carried to the shores of Tel Aviv from the Sahara down the Nile and along the Mediterranean Sea. We met Israeli citizens who came to have their daily swim. One older gentleman told us of good restaurants which we were able to find on our own and try at night for dinner.

In Search of a Bagel
Still groggy from the jet lag, we entered the dining room for our first of the famous Israeli breakfasts the guide books spoke about. Our North American concept of what to expect for breakfast was all wrong. We were asked what kind of salads we would like; there were large quantities of vegetables, olives, fish, cream cheese and yogurt awaiting the hungry guests. This was not what we expected and it took us a while to get used to this wholesome, but different, cuisine. When eating kosher, it is not permitted to serve milk products with meat.

We also had to learn about the changes in menu necessitated by the Shabbat (Sabbath). Toast was not available because buttons could not be pushed during Shabbat. Hot coffee was served from urns with levers. Some people travelled to and from breakfast on the Shabbat elevator, which ran automatically and stopped at each floor so that people wouldn’t have to push the buttons. A new acquaintance was surprised to learn that there were no Shabbat elevators in Canada.

The cuisine was varied and tasty. It was difficult, however, to cope with the buffet style of serving. Communicating with the foreign workers in the hotels’ dining rooms was often hard. Finding the right name for unfamiliar foods was challenging. One resourceful server would place a small morsel of unknown fruit or vegetable in our hands to help us decide if we wanted to eat it.

Before leaving for Israel, we had been advised never to talk about politics or religion. However, the local radio news we listened to was full of both. There were several items about pig farming in Israel and the selling of pork in some stores. We were surprised to find pork dishes on the menu at several restaurants.

We expected to find bagels on every table. As it turned out, we had to make a special effort on our last full day in Israel to find our first bagel. Noach Braun, Director of the Israel Guide Dog Centre for the Blind, took us in search of a bagel shop where there was a delicious selection to choose from. (If we ever go to China, we will probably never find an egg roll.)

Come on in!
Canadians working in Israel made us feel welcome. We spent a very pleasant afternoon with staff from the Canadian Embassy. We had an interesting meeting with the ambassador and delivered a disability awareness training session to staff for the International Day of Persons with Disabilities. Just before returning to Canada, some staff members invited us to their homes to dine on stuffed eggplant and sip wine while the guide dogs romped with their pets and unwound from three weeks of work in an unfamiliar land.

We were privileged to be invited to the homes of several residents of Israel. Spending time with Noach Braun, his wife and trainers at the guide dog centre was enjoyable. We were permitted to enter the dog run and socialize with 24 guide dogs in training. We had our picture taken with Canuck and Maple, two dogs donated to the Israeli program by British Columbia Guide Dogs for the Blind. These dogs were very professional, responding appropriately to all of the Hebrew commands for guiding. There were over 200 guide dog teams at work in Israel and a new class of four students was beginning the next week. We had a delightful chat with Moshe, an Israeli guide dog user, who shared his experiences about working with a guide dog in Israel, particularly the challenges of 40-degree heat and cars parked on the sidewalks.

On another day, Eli Meiri and his wife Anat invited us into their home in the town of Binyamina for a delicious supper of chicken and rice. We drank lemonade made with fresh lemons and, for dessert, we had fresh, star-shaped karambula fruit, both fruits having been picked from the trees in their yard. Our dogs enjoyed running free and playing with Hith, a retired guide dog they had adopted into their family.

With Eli and Anat, we climbed to the top of Mount Carmel near the Bahai faith temple, walked along the Mediterranean shore among the ruins of Caesarea at sunset and spent a delightful two hours in the Ramat Hanadiv Memorial Gardens. This was an excellent opportunity to learn about the lush vegetation of Israel. We did not expect it to be so green. Millions of trees have been planted throughout the country in an effort to reclaim the land from the deforestation that occurred during the last century when it was scoured for wood to power the trains of the Turkish Empire. It was Hanukkah, and many children were visiting the gardens to smell the roses, pick leaves of spices to capture their aromas and walk among the gardens. We were able to feel the outline of Israel on a raised map carved in Jerusalem stone.

We also visited the Israel National Museum of Science, which has an active program to make its exhibits more accessible to visitors who are blind. It was here that we got to feel and climb into an Israeli tank and a fighter plane.

Seas and Much More
During our visit, we had the opportunity to bob in the Dead Sea, sail on the Red Sea, swim in the warm waters of the Mediterranean Sea and take a delightful boat ride on the Sea of Galilee, where we fed bread to the hundreds of birds of hope that flew around the small vessel. We were surprised to sleep serenely only two miles from the Lebanese border, routinely drive through uncleared mine fields, experience just how high the Golan Heights are, and pass near the Canadian peacekeepers’ camp. We routinely crossed in and out of the borders of Israel and the Palestinian sectors. While driving through Jericho, the tour guide pointed out the new Austrian/Palestinian joint-venture casino that reportedly made a million dollars a day from Israeli citizens who are not allowed to gamble within the state of Israel.

Need for a Modern Crusade
Despite all of the wonderful experiences of Israel, we were never far away from access barriers and the pain of intolerance. It was shocking for us to be refused admission to several Christian churches because we are persons who are blind and assisted by guide dogs. The individuals who police these sites treated us as if we were breaking the law and refused to even read the copy of the “Israel Guide Dog Access Law” we asked them to look at. One of us stood outside with the two dogs for over an hour, vulnerable and unprotected on the crowded street, while the other one of us took the arm of the tour guide and went with the rest of the tour to visit the church.

In the midst of this negativity, we encountered one of the most uplifting and enriching experiences of our entire trip. Again, it was a Canadian, Annette, working at the Hadassah Medical Centre, who warmly greeted us and invited us to come right in. We sat through a video presentation about the work of Hadassah. Helping persons with disabilities achieve and be the best they can be was proudly and tastefully presented as a major theme of the presentation. We were amazed to hear about sight-restoration projects, liver and heart transplant work, rehabilitation programs to help soldiers disabled in the war to resume active lives and work to develop new prostheses and aids to daily living. We learned that today a number of persons who are blind make contributions both as members of the police and armed forces.

Our spiritual rejuvenation was not over yet. Annette then escorted us and our two professionally working guide dogs into the synagogue under the stained glass windows. We sat enthralled for the next half hour as she vividly described glass after glass, image after image and meaning after meaning to everyone in our tour. She even told us of the damage done when the medical centre was one of the first targets bombed in the six-day war and pointed out the one bullet hole in the glass kept after the repairs, as a reminder of this event. The tour guide said she had never heard such a good presentation and other tour members were impressed with what they had learned. We said a sad farewell to Annette, happy in the knowledge that everyone in our tour party benefited because persons who are blind were along for the ride. It helped to soften the pain of the inconvenience caused to all the tour members who had to take several long detours because of church officials barring the way, even through the courtyards, because of our guide dogs.

Paw Prints in the Desert Sand
This was the longest trip we had attempted with guide dogs. Zena and Quincey seemed to enjoy the nomadic life of a tourist. They took the constant change in stride. They travelled 11 hours from Montreal to Tel Aviv in the cabin of the aircraft, quietly lying at our feet, unable to go to the washroom, and 12 hours on the trip back. For the journey on the way over to Israel, we followed advice and skipped the dogs’ meal, but this seemed to cause them some hardship. On the way back, we kept their routine and fed them at the regular time. They were able to take the long return trip better. After all, no one likes to work on an empty stomach!

The guide dogs loved the climate of cool breezes and endless sun. We visited during the Israeli winter when temperatures were in the low-20s most days. The water was fine for them to drink and, even at the Dead Sea, heat was not the problem we had feared. The dogs rode calmly in the cable car to the top of Masada. They enjoyed their roll in the grass at a kibbutz in the Upper Galilee. Sleeping on the deck of the Orionia after climbing the ship’s ladder was worth the effort as the coasts of Israel, Saudi Arabia and Egypt hove into view.

Taxis, which are frequently a problem for guide dog users, accepted us warmly. It became routine to pile into a cab with two dogs and a roof rack full of suitcases and roar off to some destination.

We carried three weeks of dog food with us, so we had lots of luggage to be examined and checked. Once we were asked if the dog food was kosher. We brought the dogs’ favourite tug rope and other toys to relax with in the hotel rooms.

We took several internal airline flights within Israel. The guide dogs were warmly welcomed. On one flight, after we were seated, a crew member informed us that guide dogs could not be seated at the same end of the aircraft. We were required to sit apart — one at the front and one at the back of the aircraft. Nothing was said about this on the next flight.

With the exception of religious zealots, everyone welcomed the guide dogs. One person who sold religious souvenirs outside of one of the churches that refused entrance said, “I am not going to sell you anything because I don’t like the dogs.” There is always a good side to everything — perhaps this is why we were never pestered to buy things from street vendors while in Israel.

There was a lot of interest in the guide dogs and how they work. Concern for their comfort and well-being was common. When checking into a new hotel one evening, we were met by the manager of housekeeping who wanted to go to our room with us to see how the dogs would go to the bathroom so he could arrange for the proper cleaning of our room during our stay. We took him outside the hotel and showed how the dogs relieved upon command for us.

On another occasion, when we asked to be taken to the dining room at the kibbutz, our request was politely refused because the gentleman said he was really eager to see the dogs work. So, we compromised. He walked behind us and gave directions as we worked the dogs into the dining room. The dogs’ work in Israel for three weeks was impressive.

Well Worth the Money
Israel is a dynamic and fun place to visit. However, there are accessibility challenges. It really helps to have expert advice available and we would recommend making contacts in Israel and obtaining accessibility advice before finalizing plans to visit.

We already miss some of the helpful features from Israel, like the different sizes of currency bills, which helped in identifying the denominations, as well as the phone cards with notches on the right edge for identification and to indicate the correct side to insert the cards in the phones. We wish we had the benefit of these accommodations in Canada as well.

If you are planning to travel to Israel, you can contact Eli Meiri by e-mail at meieli@zahav.net.il, by phone at 972-6-6288059, by fax at 972-6-6289247 or by regular mail at 19, Hacharoshet Street, P.O. Box 2176, Keidar Center, Ranana, 43656 Israel.

(Marie Laporte-Stark and Chris Stark are freelance writers living in Ottawa, Ontario.)

Paw Prints In The SandBy the Stark Family
“Here comes Bob” were words that brought smiles to our faces since
they announced the long-awaited start to our trip from Ottawa to Aruba. The long hours of planning were starting to pay off. The first hurdle was about to be overcome.

Our entourage of two guide dogs, two teenagers, one husband and one
wife complete with luggage would never fit into an ordinary taxi cab. The solution was to ask our friend Bob, a person who uses a wheelchair, for help. Since he is a wheelchair user, his accessible van, although lacking seats, had lots of room for us all.

Once at the airport, a quick check confirmed our pre-booked bulkhead seats with a bit of extra room for Luna and Quincey,
our two guide dogs, and we were off to Toronto. The overnight stay
in Toronto gave us time to check that everyone knew what luggage to
take care of and to orient ourselves to Terminal One before we had
to do it in the wee hours of a Sunday morning. After a relaxing
meal of room-delivered Chinese food, we all had a good night’s sleep, free from the previous night’s pre-trip jitters.

At 4 a.m. the next morning, the talking alarm clock announced “It’s
time to get up, please hurry” and played its familiar musical
melody. First, we fed the dogs with the first two meal size portion bags of dog food we had measured for the trip before we left home. Next, we enjoyed a quick cup of complementary coffee before setting off to Pearson International Airport.

Navigating the now-crowded, at 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning, airport concourse was a breeze. We travelled our pre-planned route, now filled with people, boxes and baggage. We were soon at the counter of our charter airline, Air Transat, and checking in. Our luggage allowance was only 20 kilos per passenger, about half of a scheduled air carrier’s luggage allowance. There was no extra luggage allowance for the guide dogs’ paraphernalia. We had two weeks’ supply of dog food, in addition to the usual holiday clothing and personal items. We waited with anxiety as the luggage was weighed, hoping that our household talking scale had been accurate when we weighed the luggage before we left home. The talking scales were accurate; we even had half a kilo to spare.

The gate agent’s request, in accordance with company policy, that we produce muzzles for the dogs, in addition to our passports and tickets, produced the letter of exemption we had received in advance from Air Transat. After fifteen minutes of checking and consultations among carrier staff, the authenticity of the exemption was verified and we were given our boarding cards. We had all been accepted for the flight.

We were advised that there would be a 90-minute delay in departure
time. No worry about time enough for the dogs to digest their food
before travelling. However, our scheduled visit to the guide dogs’ relieving area that we had found the night before had to be adjusted.

Finally we were off. The dogs slept at our feet most of the way to
Aruba while we had dinner and enjoyed the flight. They did wake up
for a few refreshing ice cubes and the odd rub from other passengers and crew who had asked first if they could pat the dogs.

Four and a half hours later, the aircraft doors opened. Ottawa’s summer rain was gone replaced by the warm bright Aruba sun. The gentle breeze that blows all the time in Aruba made the 30 degree temperature comfortable. A quick stop at the grass at the edge of the runway and then it was off to customs and immigration for the entry formalities.

Whack! Whack! Our passports were stamped. Our baggage had arrived and we were being hustled to the second bus in the line. We wore expressions of surprise and disappointment. No one had wanted to see our guide dog licences, vaccination certificates, international health certificates and all the other documentation we had been told was required. All that work and no one was interested.

Oh well, we were in Aruba. The sun was shining. It was warm. The bus was whisking us by beautiful little white houses with bright red roofs. We even passed a couple of windmills. The trees seemed very small and the ground was brown, not green, like most tropical islands since it rains so rarely. When it does, it is usually only for an hour or so. They do not even bother reporting the weather here. What a change from the rain and snow of Ottawa.

The island of Aruba covers only 70 square miles; 20 miles long by 6 miles wide. Its capital, Oranjestad, was a blur of clean, narrow twisting streets and brightly coloured pink, yellow and blue buildings as we sped toward our hotel. Aruba has a population of approximately 70,000 people who speak Papiamento and Dutch, although English and Spanish are also widely spoken. Aruba is only 15 miles off the coast of Venezuela.

Soon after checking in at the Aruba Holiday Inn, we discovered that we had a problem. It seems that when Arubans no longer want their cats, they take them to the hotel district at Palm Beach and release them. The cats then manage to survive in a semi-wild state, living on hand-outs and garbage from the hotels and their guests. As soon as it got dark, we discovered that in order to reach our room in the north tower, we had to run the gauntlet of packs of wild cats that were on the prowl and in a fighting mood.

The cats seemed to sense that our dogs were not like the wild
Aruban dogs. They were not aggressive. They would not fight back. They were a temptation the Aruban cats could not pass up.

We retreated in a huff to the Duty Manager’s office.

This was the first of a series of times that Mr. Wilfred Schoop, the hotel Duty Manager, was to come to our rescue in the next two weeks. We were soon moved to rooms in the hotel centre block where the grounds were lit and the buildings surrounded a small park for night excursions. For an hour until we could move, we were escorted to and from our first rooms by hotel security guards. The memory now brings a smile to all of our faces. We heard frantic chatter on the walkie talkies as the guards spotted the marauding cats. Jingle, jingle, clank, clank, klomk, klomk were the sounds from the bushes and brush as the guards shushed the cats away from us, convoying us along the darkened paths. After that first night and our move, we never encountered the cats again.

While Wilfred Schoop and his staff showed us many small courtesies, two are particularly worthy of mention. Many of the taxies outside the hotel would not take the dogs. The staff did not like this
treatment of their guests, so they drove us anywhere we wanted to go in the hotel van when taxies refused us service.

The first night we ventured out of the hotel for supper, we found
ourselves in the lobby of a well-known Aruban restaurant being confronted by the “NO DOGS ALLOWED” song-and-dance from the Maitre d’. By now, Mr. Schoop had come to expect our calls for assistance. “No problem”, he told us over the phone, “I know the owner”. Ten minutes later, we were tucking into one of the nicest meals we had on the island. Later, we learned that the owner had been told that the guide dogs were very valuable; in fact, worth more than the restaurant and all the pots and pans in it, so he should be nice to those well-trained guide dogs.

We had tried to avoid these problems by taking preventative
measures before we left Canada. We asked the Aruba Tourist Board for a letter on their letterhead introducing us and our guide dogs. Our request was refused and the Tourist Board staff were not able to help effectively when we were in Aruba.

Our hotel’s slogan, “a familiar face in an exotic place”, had real meaning. We had come to Aruba for a good time and they were going to see that we had a fabulous vacation.

Joe and Joan were teachers from New Jersey and this was their eleventh trip to Aruba. They knew the island well. We visited the capital with them for shopping several times, buying beachwear, hats with shark bites out of their rims, shirts, and the usual tourist souvenirs. One morning, we visited the duty free port to order our liquor to take home so that it would be delivered to us at the airport. It was even cheaper than buying it at the airport, 26 oz bottles of Jamaica’s Appleton 151 proof rum for less than $5 and big bottles of Cointreau and Irish Cream for $10.

We travelled by local bus on these excursions. The bright yellow busses were clean and fast, but often off schedule. The busses had turnstiles at their front doors. Joe would get the driver to open the back door for us. He often gave short awareness sessions to the sceptical drivers. The real sceptics who called the dispatcher received reassurance, thanks to another call from the hotel. In this way, our guide dogs joined the watermelons and other paraphernalia brought onto the local bussed by the Arubans.

We went to Aruba for beach and sun. We did not want too much excitement. Our daughter, Chantal, and our son, Daniel, went diving and horseback riding. Chantal got her hair braided by one of the hotel activity directors. She also won a bottle of champagne at the Manager’s welcome party for guests. Daniel was the only visitor to the hotel’s casino. He found the 5-cent slot machine and it occupied him for hours, in between reading his science fiction books.

We parents did even less. We wandered out to the beach and found a shaded palm tree early in the morning. A hotel staff member brought us chaise lounges and we settled down with our talking books for the day. When we were too warm it was into the water for a cooling dip in the clear Caribbean sea and a chat with fellow bathers from around the world. Luna dog would patrol the edge of the sea, back and forth for hours, looking for fish but only catching small pebbles. People were amazed that this golden retriever would stick her head under water. Quincey, the younger dog (3 years old), rarely went into the water. He would dig himself a hole under one of our chaise lounges, crawl in under the
shade of a blanket and watch the people go by. Many people stopped to talk about the dogs and, in this way, we made many new friends.

We ordered lunch from Mathilda’s Beach Bar and it would be delivered to us at our chaise lounges on the beach. This is also where we got cold water with ice cubes for the dogs.

As the sun started to sink over the water to the west, we would migrate to the pool area to wash down the dogs with the hose the hotel had laid out for our use. Then we returned our towels and it

was off to the beach bar for our happy hour half-price drink and to watch the sun set. We were able, in the two weeks, to drink the seven sins of Aruba drinks and, as a result, we received two
T-shirts which advertised the fact that had we committed seven sins in Aruba.

What an idyllic life, but, regrettably, it had to come to an end. It was time to travel home all too soon. We had made many new friends and had lots of good memories. We even had a picture taken with one of the very capable Dutch veterinarians that our daughter, the true tourist, insisted on taking when we had to visit the animal hospital for some unexpected minor medical treatment due to all the salt water the dogs had lapped up, despite our best efforts to the contrary.

We walked up the aircraft ladder with our guide dogs, Luna 63 lbs. and Quincey 82 lbs. The whites of our grins sparkled against our tans as we overheard a startled crew member remark “the dogs are big! They are not Chihuahuas!” However, maybe our grins were of anticipation, for soon it would be time to plan our next adventure.

NAVIGATING THE KINGDOM OF PEACE
My Journey in Jordan
BY RITCHIE II, ALL-TERRAIN GUIDE DOG,
AS TOLD TO MARIE AND CHRIS STARK

My name is Ritchie and I am two-and-a-half years old. I have been trained extensively and now work as an all-terrain navigator. The main duties in my job description involve being constantly on call to guide a person who is blind.

When I learned that I was assigned to guide a government employee, Chris Stark, I thought I would have a quiet working life of sleeping under a desk. However, in the months since my graduation from Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind, I have not stopped travelling. I have been on buses, airplanes, trains, boats and subway cars, in hotels and restaurants, and even on a stage in front of hundreds of people. I have had to eat my meals at unusual times and in strange places such as airports. For me, jet lag is thinking it is suppertime in the middle of the morning.

Not long ago, I was lying comfortably under the desk when I started to hear of a big trip to Jordan, which is seven time zones away. I would be called on not only to fly across the Atlantic Ocean without going to the bathroom, but also to cross the Mediterranean Sea. I would have to be very careful to not sniff or lick anyone, because many people in Jordan are not comfortable around dogs like me. Because of the strife in Israel, I thought we might get out of this arduous trip, but the suggestion that we might not come was met with consternation and declarations that Jordan is the Kingdom of Peace. We were told, “You must come, you will be welcome.”

So, the serious planning started. Since there were no laws to guarantee me access to public places in Jordan, a letter in Arabic was obtained from the Jordanian Embassy in Ottawa. They not only wrote a very nice letter for me, but even offered to stamp my international health certificate, my vaccination certificate and my guide dog license. Now I had really official-looking documents that were as impressive as those carried by diplomats. Since I do not have a passport, I felt a bit better having official stamps on my travel documents.

Arrangements were made to have the Canadian Embassy in Amman assist us with the formalities upon arrival. Because of concerns about my acceptance in taxis, I had special transportation arrangements. Munir negotiated with the Grand Hyatt Hotel to make sure I had a place to sleep. Debbie at Rider Travel searched carefully for the flight route that would be best for me. I take comfort in my routines, so we had to plan a schedule that would allow me to eat and digest my meals between flights. The trip lasted too long for me to go without food. Anyway, I cannot focus on my work when I am ravenously hungry.

My journey to the Kingdom of Peace began with a two-hour bus ride on the big blue KLM bus to Montreal. Once we boarded the plane, I slept all the way to Amsterdam, where I had my breakfast in the middle of Schiphol Airport amidst large crowds of people rushing by and speaking many languages I had never heard before. Strange sounds and scents were everywhere.

During our stopover in Holland, in order to answer a call of nature I had to officially enter Holland, and leave the country to get back to the airplane. My partner’s passport was stamped 16 times during our Holland visit.

At first, the staff of Royal Jordanian Airlines was hesitant about letting me in the cabin of the aircraft. However, I was allowed on board after the captain, who liked dogs, was consulted. I was told that I was the first guide dog to travel on Royal Jordanian Airlines. Safely on board, I settled down for another five-hour flight. I woke up once to find my partner gone. I didn’t worry because Laurel, my partner’s colleague, sat with me and patted my head. She had come to sit with me so I wouldn’t be alone while my partner received “special treatment” by being able to go to the washroom.

When we arrived in Amman it was dark. A representative from the Canadian Embassy met us at the airport and he made short work of entrance formalities. However, I needed a place to relieve myself. There was no spot at the airport, so we drove out searching for a suitable location. We stopped at the side of the road, but the smells were so different, I was not able to do what I needed to do. The request for a grassy site was met with the unequivocal statement that “there is no grass in Jordan.” When we arrived at the hotel we searched again, all around the back and sides of the building. There was nothing but concrete, which smelled uninviting to me. This was a crisis. We were tired, I had to relieve myself — and then the clerk at the check-in counter tried to charge extra for me. He finally understood when it was explained that I am not a pet but a mobility aid, and it is unacceptable to charge people extra for any mobility aid, be it a wheelchair or a guide dog.

We waited in the lobby for Laurel. I was very uncomfortable and my ears were drooping. A half-hour later, she arrived and we found a solution. Outside the front door, there was a decorative oasis with palm trees — and blessed grass.

I was soon comfortable, and we settled in for a long sleep in yet another new bedroom. For the next week when anyone would ask, “Where are you going?”, the response, “To the palm trees,” resulted in a knowing nod. I had not been shown to the oasis at first because people thought I would offend. However, no one objected that week. We always picked up and I never once had an accident. The oasis was at the centre of everything and I liked to watch life go by during my five stops a day under the palm trees. Many people passing by the oasis would smile a friendly greeting to me.

It was afternoon the next day when we woke up. It was time for me to work. At first, people wanted to take us everywhere. Gradually they learned that this was my job. I learned the route from the elevator to our room, the way to the dining room and the route to the meeting rooms. I already knew the way to the palm trees, where the grass sparkled in the afternoon sunshine.

At first, people worried when we approached the top of stairs or neared a hazard, but soon people began to accept my competence and skill. I stop at the top of stairs. I walk around obstacles. I avoid dangerous hazards. And I place my nose under the door handle or elevator call button so it can be found easily. By the time the Global Summit on Peace through Tourism started the next day, staff had come to trust my work and would not get nervous about my partner’s safety each time we walked by a danger — such as the opened hotel entry door, which jutted into the path of travel.

There were some things we had to get used to. Elevator buttons did not have Braille or tactile markings. We had to find another solution. Counting down the row of buttons was necessary in order to find the button for the lobby, the conference centre or the floor on which our room was located. There were also no tactile markings on the wall by the elevator door to tell us the floor number. At first we took many wrong turns, but we gradually found solutions for these gaps in accessibility that we take for granted at home. It was explained that many multi-national American corporations cut corners in their five-star hotels abroad, failing to follow the standards required at home by the Americans with Disabilities Act. This seemed to be a source of disappointment for many people we met from abroad. They were dismayed that access is not being implemented when new hotels are built by knowledgeable corporations. They called this practice exploitation.

I have a very delicate stomach so I drank bottled water to avoid any problems. One night, Laurel took us on a walk to buy bottled water. I had to really concentrate on my work because of the many obstacles. There are big holes in the sidewalks, and the hills in Amman have steep slopes and drop-offs as well as hazards such as signs and poles on the walkways. There are many free-roaming cats in Amman, which would tease me and try to distract me. At first I found it very difficult because there are so many of them, but a gentle command or two helped me refocus, hold my head high and march by those cats with haughty disdain. After all, I am a professional navigator.

Later in the week, we had to make the same journey by ourselves for more bottled water. We had a bit of trouble crossing the streets because drivers do not yield for pedestrians. A shop owner, noticing my difficulty, sent his boy and his friends to help us home. At each intersection on the way back to the hotel, they blocked the traffic for me to cross. A policeman came by, and when he understood what was happening, he joined in. It was quite a spectacle as the Amman traffic was parted for me to lead the way back to the hotel. It was the first of several royal processions for me.

I befriended a real live prince, who even took me for a ride in the royal limousine. It turns out that His Royal Highness Prince Raad Bin Zeid is Jordan’s patron of person with disabilities. Because the Global Summit on Peace through Tourism had embraced disability issues, His Royal Highness had agreed to chair the sessions on tourism for persons with disabilities.

It was a great honour for the entire summit to have the participation of a member of the royal family. His presence lent stature and credibility to the message of inclusion that the speakers with disabilities brought to the attention of delegates. The prince arranged for Jordanians with disabilities to attend the presentations. We met many other Jordanians with disabilities, who shared their experiences and expertise with us.

I blushed when His Royal Highness publicly declared in front of all those people at the seminar how impressed he was with my work. I was overwhelmed when he said that “Jordanians need to find a way to look beyond the social stigma of dogs so that Jordanians who are blind can benefit from the independence, safety and freedom provided by professionals like Ritchie.”

The Prince was very interested in how I worked and what I could do. Every day, my vocabulary grew: “Follow the Prince” was a new command I learned to recognize. As a sign of respect for people with disabilities, the Prince declined his seat at the head table and sat with us. This kind gesture was formally recognized by the luncheon speaker. I lay quietly beside the Prince throughout that long luncheon. When my partner was served a large piece of meat and asked Laurel to cut it, the Prince intervened and cut the meat. For the next few days, people would approach and greet us — because my partner had a new notoriety as “the man, with the dog, whose meat was cut by the prince.”

Highlights of the summit included the poignant message from Nelson Mandela read to the delegates. He wrote in part:

“Conflict, violence, warfare and instability still plague too many parts of our world. The suffering inflicted, and more often than not on the most vulnerable sectors of society, demeans all of us as humanity. That it is invariably women, children, the aged and disabled who suffer in these conflicts stands up to the added shame of mankind.

“We so often speak of globalization with reference only to the opening of markets, the removal of trade barriers and the free flow of goods and finances. The free flow of people and ideas, the unfettered exposure of different cultures and customs to each other should be an equally important aspect of the globalized world, of the global village we so often refer to. Tourism has become the primary vehicle for the promotion of such exchange. In the process, peace and harmony amongst people and nations are served.”

I participated in an interfaith service at Bethany on the Jordan near the Dead Sea. The sun and the moon could be seen in the sky at the same time. The singing of the children’s choir was lovely. Afterwards, the children from many lands came over and said hello at me. A journalist on a six-month study assignment with the English-language Jordan Times Newspaper recognized us as fellow Canadians because of the label on the plastic bag in which my water and bowl were carried.

A co-presenter was a wheelchair user from the Republic of South Africa. We visited Jerash with him, and I followed his wheelchair around those ancient Roman ruins. At guide dog school I had been trained to walk on cobbled streets, so I skilfully adapted and navigated the best route by finding the smoothest cobble stones to walk on. On his voyage to Jordan the South African gentleman’s wheelchair had been destroyed by the airline, which had been unable to provide a replacement. So, during the man’s stay in Jordan, he used a very uncomfortable hotel wheelchair. At our farewell meeting with Prince Raad Bin Zeid, a wheelchair was presented to the visitor from South Africa as a gift from the people of Jordan, to help him get home more comfortably. My partner and I received an autographed picture of our lunch with the Prince.

This was a sad time as we bid farewell to all our new Jordanian friends. My fear of being unwelcome in Jordan had been as unfounded as all the other stereotypes about disability we know so well. Even when touring on our own and arriving unannounced, we had been well treated and warmly welcomed. The Kingdom of Peace is a lovely place, with friendly and hospitable people. I met many Jordanians who wanted to get to know me. I enjoyed the dialogue. I speak the universal language of friendship with my eyes and wagging tail, and I always look professional.

At midnight, we left for the airport. The security staff at the airport entrance wanted to know where my “cage” was. They did not accept that I would travel in the aircraft cabin. They weren’t going to let me pass — until my partner informed them that the King had said I was to travel in the aircraft cabin. My partner even invited them to call Prince Raad Bin Zeid at the number on his official card, which he had given to us. Security staff decided not to call the Prince at one o’clock in the morning. I was told to follow an airline person, and we were on our way.

Six hours later, I was entering Holland again to use the grass in the airport park. A lovely lady helped us buy a few souvenirs, and we were on our way again. Thirty-one hours after I left the hotel in Amman, I was in my own back yard playing with Zena, guide dog, and Quincey, retired guide dog.

I have a sense of accomplishment. My professionalism helped encourage delegates to include a strong reference to the accommodation of persons with disabilities. The summit’s final communiqué, The Amman Declaration, proclaimed in part:

“The right of people to travel is a fundamental human right which should be exercised without undue restriction, including the facilitation of travel for those with disabilities and special needs.”

Hup up, Luna Dog! Hup up! With a wag of her tail, a shake, and a jangle of the harness, this golden retriever guide dog answers the “all aboard call” to start the long airplane journey home at the end of another enjoyable vacation in the hot sun.

Travelling abroad with a guide dog can be complicated, time consuming, hindered by a general lack of awareness, and fraught with bureaucracy. The effort, however, is worth it in terms of freedom and independence, which are, after all, the reasons why one gets a guide dog in the first place. The obstacles can be overcome with research, planning, and a little public relations work.

By focusing on Caribbean vacations, this article will share some of the tips that we have found, from our own personal experiences, to work well. Travelling to the U.S. we find effortless, although travelling to other parts of the world is, to date, outside the scope of our experience.

Our family, like a growing number of Canadians, enjoys escaping the cold winter for a couple of weeks. We did not experience any real problems until Luna Dog joined our family. The first hurdle to overcome is always in deciding where to go. You will most likely have to do this research on your own and then inform your travel agent. The choice is a matter of which country you can enter with your guide dog rather than which country you want to go to. We set criteria based on what we want to do, swimming for example, and then find a place that both meets our criteria and will accept the dog. The American Humane Society publishes a brochure on foreign travel with animals which summarizes the entry requirements of various countries. This is a good place to start; however, the brochure is not always accurate. For example, it says that Jamaica exempts guide dogs from quarantine regulations, but a letter from the Jamaican Department of Agriculture advises that, in Jamaica, guide dogs are not exempted.

Generally speaking, the list of possibilities for travel with a guide dog among the Caribbean nations are the Bahamas, Cuba, St. Martin, Martinique, Guadeloupe, Puerto Rico, Aruba, Curacao, the Cayman Islands, and the Caribbean coasts of Venezuela, Columbia, and Mexico. Countries which do not allow guide dogs to enter have quarantine regulations modelled on the British system and include Barbados, Jamaica, Trinidad and Tobago, Grenada, Antigua, and Ste. Lucia. At the time of this writing, the Dominican Republic’s policy remains an enigma to us. We mention this in order to point out the difficulties sometimes involved in obtaining information from some countries and the general reluctance of the international travel industry to consider this aspect of the tourist trade seriously.

Our family has visited both the Bahamas and Cuba, which are good examples of the two types of procedures you will have to cope with. In the case of the Bahamas, a form is obtained from the Minister of Agriculture in Nassau, completed and returned with $10 U.S., and in a month or so you receive it back with an official stamp. Next, visit your vet 24 hours before leaving, have your dog examined, and obtain an International Animal Health Certificate. Armed with these two documents, we breezed through immigration in Nassau with no questions asked. One final note on the fee: although the Bahamian officials say that the $10 fee is waived for guide dogs, our application was returned with a request for the fee. Rather than argue, we just paid it in order to speed up the process.

Cuba is a good example of the other pattern of entry requirement. First, obtain an International Animal Health Certificate from your friendly neighbourhood veterinarian. Have the certificate signed and stamped by a Canadian Department of Agriculture veterinarian. Have the certificate legalized at the our Department of External Affairs’ nearest office. Take or send the certificate to the nearest consulate or embassy, pay the fee (in this case $75), wait a week for the wax seal, then take your certified certificate and away you go. Some countries will accept either the Department of Agriculture or External Affairs stamp, so check first. Some countries have a time limit, such as having the veterinarian’s examination within 30 days of the trip.
It is important to find a travel agent with good communication skills, who knows the business, and who is committed to the project. Even so, it will be necessary to provide information, combat misconceptions, and provide direction in resolving the obstacles that will be placed in the path of the guide dog.

The first of these obstacles is the persistence of tour operators, property operators, and governments in treating the guide dog as a pet. We have never completely conquered this problem, but continue to combat it. A document in the language of the country concerned explaining the function of your guide dog can be very helpful, especially if it is on official government letterhead or officially stamped. This document will work wonders. If you cannot procure such a document, simply make back-to-back photocopies of guide dog information with the entry permit or even a form letter from the tourist board inviting people to visit (which we did in the case of the Bahamas).

Try to choose a tour operator who will work with you and your travel agent to encourage the destination property to accept your guide dog. Some companies expect you to make a booking before they will ask and do not seem to understand the feelings of rejection you can experience as a result of being denied access because of your guide dog, especially if this happens several times. Also insist that the tour operator send an explanation of the dog and its function in the language of the country concerned ALONG WITH the request for a reservation. Some will refuse. Others will ask for extra money to cover the cost of cleaning up after the dog or as compensation for the extra body in the room. Others will demand a muzzle. These have all happened to us and we have rejected all of these conditions.

Try to select a chain hotel’s property for your holiday destination. While there may not be any laws in the country you are visiting which guarantee access, the affiliate hotel is governed by the bill of rights of its own parent country. Chain hotels are familiar with the concept and will, in general, offer the least resistance. The Best Western British Colonial in Nassau is a case in point. It was one of the hotels best suited to our purposes in which we ever stayed. The security guards even chased off the occasional loose dog and kept the grounds safe for Luna.

Stray dogs are a concern, but we have yet to have a problem that we could not cope with. On the streets, people may be afraid of all dogs, including guide dogs, since many of these countries’ dogs have been made extremely aggressive by having been abusively trained as guard or attack dogs.

Once you have a reservation, your task is not over. Insist that reference to your guide dog appears on all documents that contain your name, including the travel insurance document. Should you have problems or if anyone tries to penalize you for the presence of your dog, you will have written proof of the fact that the presence of your guide dog was well known and accepted at the time of sale. Watch the terms and conditions of the tour operator. For example, some companies say that seat selection is on a “first come, first served” basis. That is fine, except that it is their responsibility to ensure that we have a seat with sufficient room for the dog. On most aircraft this means the bulkhead seat. We insist on this.

Ensure that your tour operator notifies the airline you are using that you are travelling with a guide dog at the time of reservation. Ask for a copy of the airline’s rules and procedures for accommodating guide dogs. This is important. One airline told us that it would not accept the dog unless she were muzzled. When we asked for that rule in writing we learned that as long as the dog was wearing a harness she would be accepted. Carry this rule with you when you travel. Staff, particularly of charter carriers, may not be used to dealing with travellers with disabilities. It would be very difficult to deal with the “muzzle matter” at an airport early on the morning of departure, not to mention the fact that it would just add needless stress. Just give the agents a copy of the airline’s rule and leave it to them.

On the way to Cuba, Security at Mirabel required the airline to re-issue a boarding pass because the original did not include the guide dog. On one occasion at an airport, when the ground attendant was asked where would be the best place for the guide dog to go to the washroom, he proceeded to yell into his walkie talkie “Where’s the nearest fire hydrant? I’ve got a dog who needs to go!”

Obtaining a copy of the airline’s applicable rule or tariff, well in advance of the day of the trip, is also a good way of ensuring that the travel company has advised the airline of your guide dog at the time the reservation is made. At the check-in counter the airline will ask to see travel documents for you, including your passport, and for the dog, the permit and/or health certificate. Airlines must ensure that all passengers have the proper documentation before individuals are accepted by them.

This forethought should ensure that your vacation is truly relaxing. At your destination, your hosts may not be familiar with independent blind persons, let alone guide dogs. Many funny things will happen and you should be tolerant, within reason. People on the beach seeing the dog being harnessed would ask if we were going to ride the dog or run the dog in the dog races. Restaurants, cabs and busses will be worried about their licences and getting in trouble with their own authorities. Giving them a sense of security by offering the proprietor or driver a copy of your official-looking awareness document about guide dogs helps. Offering the person a copy to keep is, in a sense, providing that person with a permanent defense, if hassles should occur after you leave. We had eaten in one spot several times when one day a customer started to fuss about Luna. The owner produced our paper from under the counter and proceeded to read it in a loud voice to all concerned. Once the customer understood, he was very friendly. Yes, we made a bit of a spectacle but it was better than going hungry.

Travelling with guide dogs in the United States is still sometimes an adventure, even after the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act. We were looking for a place to relieve our guide dogs at O’Hare International Airport. We had 57 minutes between flights en route to San Diego for a baseball sports trip. We had spent fifteen minutes in a futile attempt to get airline staff to assist.

A fellow passenger with a mobility impairment offered to help. He showed us to the front of the terminal and sure enough there was some grass. The guide dogs did their thing and we were on our way.

Despite advanced requests, airline staff were remarkably indifferent to our need. Surprising since it was their aircraft which would have been soiled if an accident had occurred on the second flight of our 9 hour journey. “After all this is an airport, what do you expect” was the response.

When travel problems arise as a result of indifference, the only solution is self help. In this case, the actual relieving took ten minutes, less time than we spent trying to get help in a large, strange terminal we had never visited before. Oh well, we were on our way again.

A few hours later, we were relaxing by the pool at our San Diego hotel in bright sun shine with pleasant mid 70s temperatures. We were listening to the San Diego Padres announcers broadcast the last game before the all star break. The game was with the Montreal Expos, the team we would follow after the break on their California road trip.

Since the Expos were doing very well in the game, it was strange to listen to the Padres announcers trying to find positive things to say, Eventually the announcers gave up in a string of. “mercies”.

For us, fans who are blind, the radio plays a big part in our ability to enjoy the game. We sit in the stands with earphones stuck in one ear and listen to the play by play descriptions over the radio, while listening to the sounds of the ball park with the other ear. However, the California games were a few days away. First it was time for a bit of sight seeing.

A visit to Tijuana for shopping produced a few bargains. A nice leather back pack was purchased for $20 after some hard bargaining. The guide dogs gave a wide berth to the many “burros” they also called “Mexican Tigers” standing on the sidewalks waiting to have their pictures taken with passing tourists.

After a tiring morning of shopping, it was off to —-for a Mexican lunch and a relaxing afternoon at the beach. All the visitors stuck to American food as they were worried about getting sick with the “tourista”.

The beach was wide and sandy. The water was a bit wavy and noisy so the dogs would not venture too far into the sea. The water was surprisingly cold at 70 degrees and helps to explain the mild pleasant coastal climate while inland locations sweltered in the summer heat.

After a romp on the beach, the dogs settled under an umbrella for a snooze. Soon a strange pungent aroma woke them up. Thus began an alert afternoon for the dogs watching pair after pair of horses ride by as people enjoyed an afternoon sea side ride.

All too soon it was time to leave and prepare for the next leg of our journey, a visit to Los Vegas.

Wow, was it hot in Los Vegas. Temperatures over 100 degrees every day. Most people seem to live inside huge resorts filled with the noise of slot machines, gaming tables and loud music.

At our hotel, the request for the special services desk for help with orientation information was met with consternation. We were informed that in Los Vegas, the only “special services offices were for providing assistance to high rollers.” Assistance for persons with disabilities was non-existent.

We had to fend for ourselves and by the end of the three day stay, we were able to get around our hotel with ease. The guide dogs were cruising through the rows after rows of slot machines as if the had been doing it for years. Slot machines were everywhere, even in the bathrooms. It was gaming on wild.

Staying in Los Vegas was like what we imagined living on a space station would be like. The heat meant that people tended to spend more time inside surrounded by video screens, bright lights and lots of electronic noise rather than out side in the 100 degree temperatures.

In the shade, it was quite pleasant outside. We spent many hours in the shade near the pool. The heat was so dry that the dogs would stay for hours without panting. However, the sun was another matter.

During the day, we avoided the sun. At night, we visited several of the monstrous hotels on the famous Los Vegas Strip. This city has 12 of the 13 largest hotels in the world. We stayed at the 13th largest hotel in the world, The Riviera, with 2273 rooms. The largest hotel in the world will be the 5009 room MGM Grand Hotel and theme park.

An average of 6589 couples say, “I do” every month in Las Vegas. Marriage licences cost just $35 dollars at the Clark County Marriage Licence Bureau which is open 8 a.m. to midnight Monday to Thursday and 24 hours a day on Weekends. So, the divorce capital of America is now trying to become the marriage capital of America, with Valentines Day and New Years Eve being the most popular marriage days of the year.

There is even a Casino Radio providing tourist information and calling itself, “the best deal on the dial.” It was a great source of information for people who could not read the tons of written ads and offers. The radio described restaurants, buffets, show times and hotel features.

More than 21 Million people visit Los Vegas each year. Revenue from gaming tops 4 billion dollars annually. We contributed to this profit. We lost all of $12 dollars in Los Vegas but one of our travelling companions cheerfully lost his budgeted gambling amount of $2000.

The Los Vegas Strip is a famous place. We had red about it in many talking books. In reality, it, like Hollywood, did not live up to expectations. It was noisy and dirty. The sidewalks were narrow, uneven and in need of repair.

The walks on the strip was memorable for us, however, because our dogs were attacked by two unleashed pets. There was a tense couple of minutes while we tried to protect our guide dogs from the other animals until help arrived. Guide dogs are not aggressive. In general, they will not even defend themselves unless seriously hurt. They look to us for protection and we did our best. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt.

In Las Vegas, we always carried lots of water for the dogs. We never let them lay in the sun. We would not walk on the streets during the day for fear that the heat from the black asphalt roads would burn the dogs’ paw pads.

At night, we were free to roam in comfortable temperatures. We attended several Las Vegas shows including the performance by Canadian Rich Little and His Copy Cats at the Sahara Hotel and the hit show SPLASH at the Riviera.

Guide dogs do not like loud sudden noises and we became a bit worried about Luna because she began to fidget during the SPLASH show. We thought that maybe she had a problem needing a vets attention. The photographer who took pictures of patrons was a dog lover. She spent more time, with our permission, petting the dogs under the table than taking pictures during the show.

When she learned that we may need a vet, this lady went out and looked up the address and phone number of the nearest vet to our hotel and gave it to us. Although, as it turned out, we did not need to visit the vet, this thoughtfulness was very much appreciated.

We were soon off to Los Angeles for the first of our 11 baseball games. We flew on a carrier called Southwest American Airlines. They were a “no frills” airline. They did not even have seat reservations. We were worried at first about getting seats with room for the dogs on the 9 flights we were taking with this company between western United States cities.

Our worries were unfounded. Although the staff wore shorts and short sleeve shirts, there was nothing casual about their professionalism. Directions were given in explicit language which enabled us to find boarding gates on our own. We were the first of the walk on passengers which meant that we always had access to the seats with adequate room for the dogs.

At the front of the aircraft, they had two rows of seats facing one another. This configuration allowed six people and two guide dogs to travel in comfort with room for all. A highlight of the whole trip was these 9 flights on Southwest American Airlines and the ever present professional, courteous service. The staff even made a point of telling us that there was sufficient oxygen masks for the dogs in the event of cabin decompression. Rarely do the traditional airlines show this level of consideration and service to guide dog users.

We had visited Los Angeles before. So, we passed up the city tour in favour of learning the hotel. A wise decision as the other 30 members of our group returned to the hotel in shock after a wild ride with a bus driver who narrowly missed cars and often could not shift gears on the many hills of Los Angeles and had to back down many a busy city street.

Although the Expos lost 3 of the 4 games at Dodger Stadium, Chavez Ravine, this was the most enjoyable series for us. The stadium staff were courteous and attentive. The food was good for stadium fare and the seats in the stands had adequate room for the dogs to lay down in the stadium row during the game. Vince Skully, the Dodgers radio announcer, was a good commentator and so we really enjoyed the stadium and atmosphere. We purchased a radio in the shape of a baseball to take home as a souvenir.

Since the games were at night, we had the day to pursue other interests. We visited Universal Studios. We were frequently forced to take a different route than the rest of our party as we could not use the escalators. This was a bit disruptive when trying to enjoy attractions together. We were often taken directly into a ride while everyone else had to line up for a half hour to get in. We ended up waiting an equal time for everyone else at the end of the ride. The Back to the Future and the ET rides were particularly enjoyable.

Near the end of the visit, we took the dogs to see the animal show. We heard Beethoven, the new lassie and many other show animals. Our guide dogs were mighty interested in that show. They watched the birds tricks with wonder but seemed to treat the dog antics as nothing special. We found the animal show by accident as we searched for a place to relieve our dogs. Most staff were non plussed by the request until one young fellow remembered that Universal Studio had its own resident canines and took us there to use their runs. The trainers were glad to see us and made us feel most welcome.

By mid afternoon, the crowd had become horrendous and it was hard to move about the park. No matter, it was time for us to leave to ready ourselves for yet another evening baseball game.

Hotel staff were also surprised that we found grass in their courtyard suitable for relieving the animals. They were also relieved. Staff knew the had to accept guide dogs at this new hotel but not how the dogs would relieve themselves. This is a preoccupation of those who are not familiar with guide dogs. We are often complimented on our dogs’ ability to use the toilet as we leave public washrooms.

Lugging kilos of dog food around in our luggage really adds to the weight and difficulties on a trip like this with many flights and hotels. So, we planned to restock our supply during the trip. When the time came, we were still in LA. Our hotel was in the business district and there were no store nearby. A staff member at the hotel drove us to a supermarket in their limousine to get dog food and only in LA would no one bat an eye at going through the supermarket parcel pick up in a limousine with two dogs aboard. Maybe Beethoven and Lassie shopped at that supermarket too.

Early the next morning after another pleasant flight, we found ourselves in San Francisco. As the baseball games at Candle Stick Park were in the afternoon, we went directly to the stadium.
Upon arrival at the stadium, we looked like ducks out of water. Candle Stick Park must be the coldest and windiest place on earth. Marie just had to have a $35 dollar pair of sweat pants from the souvenir shop to cover her legs. I sat shivering in the stands. I looked so pitiful that the San Francisco Giant fan sitting in front of me gave me a big woolly horse blanket to snuggle under. He took great delight in showing the tourists the wind breaker he was wearing. When we returned the next day, we came armed with all the long pants, sweaters and jackets we had brought with us.

San Francisco provided the most interesting sight seeing of our trip. We visited the Golden Gate Bridge, Oakland Bridge and marvelled at the recent earthquake damage and had an enjoyable harbour cruise followed by a tour of the infamous Alcatraz prison. We enjoyed our evening walks through China Town and along the streets of Fisherman’s Wharf. The cable car ride provided a sensation of a by-gone age but walking up the steep hill of the crookedest street in the city nearly did us in. It was nearly straight up in spots and went on for blocks in a vertical direction.

San Francisco is a unique place with character of its own. One of our bus drivers lectured us on the fact that the United States was really socialist country and the Armed Forces wit their health and social benefits was the America’s socialist institution. We caused a stir when the dogs steped out of a stretch Cadillac onto the streets of China Town on our way to supper at Longs. The Holiday Inn Persisted in keeping the only piece of grass on their property, a scrubby patch of weeds, under lock and key and each trip to the dog patch was like a visit to an alcatraz maximum security cell.

After the Expos lost three games in San Francisco, it was off to San Diego where our team won three out of four games, so, our trip ended o an up beat note. The mid 70’s temperature was ideal for lounging around the pool all day which was exactly what we did. Occasional walks along the waterfront to Sea Port Village helped to add a bit of variety to pool lounging.

We had an opportunity to briefly speak to several players and team broadcasters during our stay at the same hotel used by the team. Several members of our group were upset when they observed the pitcher eating a big buffet meal an hour and a half before he was due to pitch, They were right this pitcher lost his game.

One of the pleasures of any trip is the people you meet and the new friends you make. This trip was no exception. We enjoyed several pleasant meals with an industrial psychologist and his wife who we met for the first time when attending the Rich Little Show together in Las Vegas. She was petrified of dogs and nearly did not get on the plain when she heard that two dogs were part of the party. Through the trip, she tried to overcome her dislike of dogs. The more she tried, the more pleasant time we spent together. On their wine tasting trip to the Napa Valley, they acquired wine for us. We even benefited from some free psychological services as he used his skill to solve our access problem with the stadium elevator. Even though this elevator was for use by persons with disabilities, it was commandeered by the press core and the first evening we nearly got locked in Jack Murphy Stadium waiting for the elusive elevator.

We were surprised about the few incidents of attempted denial of access of our guide dogs in California, a restaurant in Los Angeles, a cafeteria at San Francisco International Airport and The Stadium Club at Jack Murphy Stadium in San Diego where the host wanted to put our dogs behind a curtain in an anteroom. We never imagined that we would have to educate people about their own laws but fortunately we had photocopies of the California statute relating to service animals which we distributed liberally in response to this treatment.

Our trip home was very smooth. After all, we were retracing the route we learned on the way out to California. In Montreal, we landed at 10:10 a.m., passed through immigration, cleared customs, relieved the dogs, travelled by shuttle to the Dorval station, bought our tickets and had five minutes to wait for the 10:57 a.m. train to our home town, Ottawa.

No sports trip would be complete without statistics. Here is the box score for our trip: 16 days, 3 countries, 8 flights, 2 trains, 2 boat trips, 11 baseball games, 3 stadiums, 5 cities, 4 hotels and numerous bus, van, limousine and taxi trips. We are now longing for another idyllic vacation under palm trees on a secluded beach.