Back from Prague with my Medical Cannabis

Hi guys & dolls!
[Gosh, this sounds so politically incorrect!]

Anticlimax, just as I'd hoped in my previous post.

Leaving Ben Gurion Airport was fine. The two little cannabis bottles were nestled in my necessaire; I didn't tell anyone about them, and checking in was the usual mild hassle. (Oops -- just made a big mistake: looked at images of necessaires, which immediately made my old one look boring...)

As airports go, Prague Airport was quite satisfactory: modern, well-signposted in a language I understand, with plenty of duty-free shops and inviting eateries. But I had eyes only for Customs. With heart aflutter, I dragged my case over to the red zone, where three officials were chatting idly. They stopped their chat and one of them asked me, as if making sure I knew where I'd stumbled into: "Do you have something to declare?" "Yes," I said, "I have these two tiny bottles of medical cannabis oil... and a license in Czech..." He asked to see the items, I opened my case and took out the items. He looked at the oily bottles curiously, glanced at the paperwork, then explained in Czech to the other officials what it was about; I caught the word "marijuana" in Czech. I think they were more amused than impressed. Official #1 said it was okay, and waved me off.

The "all clear" has sounded. Sigh of relief. Now I could start enjoying my visit! Providing, of course, that my digestive tract behaved itself and my pains lay low, with or without medication.

I don't have to tell you that Prague is beautiful. Everyone else has already said so, and available online photos confirm it. All that was left for me to do was to walk, walk, walk and see for myself. More about that in my next post. Meanwhile, here's just one thing-of-beauty that appealed to me:

statue at Troja Chateau

As for traveling elsewhere in the world with medical cannabis, my 2 cents' worth at this point are:
- If you don't absolutely have to, don't. It's not worth the headache (and the cost).
- Find out at the relevant embassy exactly, but exactly, what the official rules are, and how strictly they are applied.
Good luck, bon voyage, and please share your experiences and conclusions online, for the benefit of other travelers. Thank you.

Traveling abroad with medical cannabis

Got your attention, didn't I?
Well, I sure hope so. Because it's a problem, to which there seems to be no single, unequivocally-right answer.

In Israel at least, there has been considerable progress with making medical cannabis legally available to those who need it. It still involves red tape, of course; it takes time; and you have to be lucky in your choice of physician. Moreover, quite often you don't have a choice, as one colleague complained: In her long struggle with devastating migraines, she finally got up the courage to ask her doctor about medical cannabis, having heard that it can help. But Doc insisted that it doesn't help against migraines, and then went on to say that he doesn't recommend medical cannabis because "he doesn't believe in drugs". As if the strong medications Colleague was taking were not drugs, and ones with some nasty side effects at that.

Unlike Colleague above, my pain doctor brightly suggested I try cannabis, totally of her own volition and out of the blue, it seemed to me. Her logic was simple -- to try to gradually wean me off more powerful and harmful drugs (the painkillers I was taking).  And so forms were filled in, time passed, I got my license from the appropriate department of the Ministry of Health, was referred to the appropriate authorized distributor, went for initial instruction, bought the stuff and started experimenting with it. If you want the whole story, drop me a line and I'll write a more detailed post.

But this post is about flying abroad with the darn stuff!

I assumed I'd need to prove I had a license. Luckily, I'm a translator; if push came to shove, I could translate the document into English and have the translation notarized. But I assumed someone before me had gone to the trouble, and there must be an English version of the document somewhere "out there".  Well, I assumed wrongly.

I began asking around. Someone mentioned having a friend who uses medical cannabis, and whose business took her abroad often. The Traveling Friend was consulted. In her experience, nobody in the States cares if you have an Israeli license to use medical cannabis in Israel; trying to take it into the U.S. with you is a no-no.

That was a disappointment. On to the next: another friend-of-a-friend is consulted. He, too, decided it's safer not to take the cannabis with him when going abroad. He tries to keep his business trips as short as possible, and takes with him an extra dose of his other trusted pain medication. Bother!

The staff at Tikun Olam, the distribution center I go to once a month, is very helpful, patient and attentive. I explained to the guy behind the counter that I already have tickets to Prague, and was wondering whether I could take my cannabis with me. The guy said he had no idea, and recommended that I ask at the Czech Embassy. How convenient of my pain doctor, cannabis supplier, and the Czech Embassy to live within such easy walking distance from my grandsons, whom I try to visit at least once a week!
So off I go to the Czech Embassy in Tel Aviv, where a very personable young man named Jan, a "consular referent", looks at me wide-eyed: No, he's never heard of such a request! This might be a good place to point out, that I am not using "grass", or "weed"; in other words, I do not smoke the stuff. Medicinal (and recreational) cannabis are available in a variety of forms, as you can see on the Tikun Olam website. My physician thought that the right form for me is drops: essence of cannabis diluted in olive oil. And I assure you it tastes like hell. I do not advise dressing your salad with it.  I showed Jan the little bottles, [they're tiny!] gave him my license to photocopy and certify, gave him my business card, and he promised to find out and call me.

Which he did. It is okay to bring into the Czech Republic up to 5gr of cannabis. Over that, I had better have my license translated into Czech, and make sure to pass through the red channel at Customs in Prague airport and declare my possession. My bottles contain a maximum of 10 gr each, but since I'll be taking started bottles with me, both together might come to 10gr.
Jan recommended a Hebrew-to-Czech translator and notary -- David Hron. I never got to meet him because he was away in Prague... But his lovely administrative assistant, Diana, took care of everything.

Now in possession of an official-looking document in Czech, a language I don't know a single word in (something I intend to rectify on this trip), I thought I could wipe the Tel Aviv sweat off my brow and proceed to the usual pre-trip dithering: Which tops/trousers to pack, which book to read on the flight, and so on. But I had to stop by at the distribution center to pick up (i.e., buy) my monthly bottles of cannabis oil. So I thought I'd update the guy (must ask his name) who advised me in the first place. He was genuinely interested in the information -- it might help future travelers. He did warn me, however, that I may run into trouble at my port of exit -- Ben Gurion Airport! The thought had never crossed my mind. He said I should phone the airport and find out; I was annoyed that he didn't know what the rules are at Israel's major international airport. I see how many people come to the distribution center. Surely  at least some of them have occasion to travel abroad. What do they do??? Whom do they ask? Who has all the answers?

Bottom line: I'm not calling Ben Gurion Airport. Come Sunday morning, I am taking my precious bottles with me, as well as the Hebrew and the Czech documents and spare Targin in case my cannabis is confiscated. If you don't hear from me soon after that, it may mean I'm spending my vacation in an Israeli or Czech prison. In any case, I promise to tell you what happened. (Sure hope it'll be an anticlimax!)

From London, with love

"Do you like London?" I asked my London-born hubby.
He shrugged helplessly. He doesn't know; he's never given it any thought. It's just London: though it keeps changing, it's familiar -- for better and for worse. He doesn't think of it as a tourist destination; he comes to see family and friends. If it were up to him, he probably wouldn't set foot in a single shop. He'd just buy a few staples in the duty-free on the way out. You know -- essential stuff like Cheddar, Stilton, Cadbury's, and good Irish whiskey.

But I go ga-ga over London, and over the UK in general.

We've always stayed with family or friends; or, in recent years -- in a small place in SE London. This time, for the first time ever, we actually booked a hotel in the center of town, and went gallavanting around for hours and hours. My head was spinning. There was a constant buzz all around me: the endless stream motor vehicle and human traffic; the sounds, sights, smells -- everything was overwhelming in a wonderful sort of way. After only 24 hours in town, I felt as if I'd accomplished a lot... a lot of window-shopping and people-gazing, that's for sure. The shops are full of a huge selection of everything I always want when I'm in London and everything I always try to convince myself not to want: alluring toiletries and cosmetics at Boots, clothes at Gap, shoes at Ecco, books & notebooks at WHSmith...

The hotel we stayed at was the Danibius Regents Park, overlooking Lord's Cricket Ground (which means a lot to some people). And we knew nothing about it when we booked. Imagine my surprise when, upon going down to breakfast, I found myself surrounded by Moslems. We live in Israel, a small country surrounded by Arab countries, and you'd think I'd be accustomed to being surrounded by Moslems. Well, I'm not. Mostly it was the burka-wearing, head-to-toe covered women who stood out. As we soon realized, the hotel was a stone's throw away from London's Central Mosque , and the time was a couple of days before a major Moslem holiday -- Eid Ul Adha. And indeed, on that special day hundreds of people flocked to the Mosque.

The hotel was pleasant and comfortable, falling short of "wonderful". But, to be fair, I think its target clientelle is business people, not vacationers. Among other travellers, it caters to airline personnel. Why, if it weren't for the hotel's affiliation with BA, and the fact that we could utilize our BA "points", we wouldn't have considered staying there.

The hotel's pride and joy, it seems, is its restaurant, called Minsky's New York Deli, which I took to be homage to a NYC establishment by that name. Can any New Yorker confirm?
I didn't care much for the subdued lighting, especially at breakfast time. But in the evening, and particularly on the evening of our wedding anniversary, it seemed very apt. Even apter was the musical trio, who played Cheek to Cheek  at my request, bless them;

Time to catch a train. Additional notes and musings about London, Devon, and Lancs in my next posts.

Back on track: I'm off to see the wizard

At long last, I'm back on track!
After about 6 months of being stuck at home and having to cancel trips, I'm once again packing my suitcase and backpack, including hat-gloves-scarves-umbrella, my prescription pain meds, and spiral notebook for taking notes (duh!).
What does all this have to do with the wizard? Surely I'm not going to Oz.
Well, not exactly.

See, the last trip I wrote about in this-here blog concerned going to hospital. Unfortunately, the surgery I underwent didn't turn out as planned. Complications ensued, time went by, and I was still unfit to travel. And so, with heavy heart, we had to cancel our trip to Canada. The plan was to attend our daughter's convocation ceremony at U of T, where she'd studied Landscape Architecture ; spend a few days with Daughter and other family members in Toronto; then rent a car and go driving to Quebec City, and down through beautiful countryside of Maine etc as far as NJ and MD to see my cousins. Imagine our disappointment when these plans fell through.

Fast-forward to a few months later. Strong painkillers, plenty of physiotherapy & exercise, lots of support and encouragement from family and friends, plus sheer determination seem to have worked. At least enough for us to consider foreign travel once again. Sensing that I was still a bit worried, my therapist said: "My own doctor once told me that he knows of a magic cure. It's called Passport Control".

Hence the idea of going to see the wizard. I shall meet him or her in a few hours. My passport will be stamped, and off to the Duty Free I shall march, to look at L'Occitane's latest collection -- the exquisitely designed Collection de Grasse; then to the BA Lounge where I can eat and relax until takeoff time.

Shucks! I just remembered! My wizard may be a machine. I often use the biometric system to get through passport control. Never mind -- as long as I emerge safely at the other side! And as for L'Occitane -- their prices are high, and I haven't smelled any of the new collection yet, so who knows. Maybe I'll save my dough for Boots or The Body Shop.

Back to what really matters: the trip. First few days in the heart of London, seeing family and doing touristy things; then by train to cousins in Delightful Devon (even grey skies and drizzle won't spoil our delight); then another train to cousins in a godforsaken little village in Lancashire, which will doubtlessly be an adventure; our hosts are no longer in the village where we got lost last time, so we get another chance at getting lost elsewhere :-)  From there, on to a couple of days in York, which we last visited in 1982. And back to London for a couple of days before catching our flight back home.

Of course, there should be lots of interesting things along the way. About which I hope to write and post in this blog, if I have the time and energy. No camera this time -- only my smartphone; it had better not let me down, or else! (Or else what? I'll replace it with another smartphone? Empty threats are so pathetic.)

Ta-ta for now. Or as we say in Hebrew: L'hitra'ot להתראות . Don't bother with Google Translate. It means ciao, au revoir, be seeing you, etc.