Faraway Fantasy Friday: Another Option

I've been craving the ocean again. Setting sail on it for faraway shores and exotic island destinations. The smell of coconut oil and the feel of sand stuck to my legs draws me into daydreams.

And so I began to think of other options for my big trip this coming spring. The one I'm most intoxicated with is this:

http://www.gapadventures.com/trips/greek-islands-sailing-adventure-santorini-to-athens/GVSA/2010/

A 15-day hop around the Green isles on a 50-foot sailboat, stopping wherever the 8 passengers onboard happen to feel like stopping. Feel like jumping overboard and going for a swim in the Aegean? Just give the Captain a shout!

Ummm, yes please!

But April and May in Greece is still rather spring-like and not hot enough for me. So if I choose this option, my spring trip will get pushed back to September...

A Sailboat moored in a small Greek lagoon on an uninhabited island is calling to me today.

Where do you want to be today?

29 is the Last Good Year

PAIN.

Increasing steadily. Pulsing, pumping, ouchy, painful, PAIN. In my tooth, you see.

I'd been able to ignore it for a few weeks, after all, the pain was in a tooth I'd just had filled three months ago. Wouldn't you ignore it too?

Well. Monday night was the last straw as I sat up in my bed, nearly in tears at 1am, unable to go back to sleep for the pain. I lay there for hours, swishing water over the tooth to relieve it. Tuesday morning I had an appointment with my regular dentist, so I drove out (I drive 45 minutes to see my fave Dentist), swishing water the entire time and sat in the dentist's chair, only to be told:
"Root Canal. But it's a tough one. You need to see and Endodontist for that one."

So two hours later I sat down in a second long, ergonomic, tan chair at the endodontist's office. The doctor came in and I was immediately worried. His hands shook noticeably from Parkinson's tremors and I wondered if I should go through with this... I mean, what's another night tossing and turning in agony?

Right.

I stayed put a few minutes longer to check this shaky doctor out. He was around 70 years old. Semi-retired. Wily eyebrows.

And... he really knew his stuff. He examined my x-rays and explained everything thoroughly to my over-inquisitive self.

And he was FUNNY, that one.

Step 1: NUMB.

Three shots. He got those spot on. One to numb topically. Two to knock out the entire area. (I once had six shots [the doc kept missing the nerve!] and a bout of heart palpitations administered by  a very much less capable dentist!)

When he got into his work the tremors stopped. I was satisfied.

The rest of the steps: DRILLING. SAWING. X-RAYS. FILLING.

So after much drilling and hacking and sawing and funny commenting from this quirky old gent, I emerged. Plus one root canal. Minus $1200. (!!!!#*$&%&^)  Minus half of one molar, which, if you think about it, is kind of a blow to one's ego, don't you think?

I mean, I spent a good portion of my youth growing that sucker. I've brushed, flossed, rinsed and cared for that thing for around 29 years and yesterday, in the short span of 1.5 hours (yes, it only took 1.5 hours for the root canal!) I have only 1/2 of a tooth left!

In three weeks I have to go and get the other half replaced artificially. A crown. Yet another new-to-me dental procedure. And another (#$*&#%^&*) $1100. I really need dental insurance. (Too bad I can't freaking afford it because my medical insurance went up from $120/month to $210/month in the last year! Blasted Obamacare.)

The crazy-haired doctor told me my easy years of dental work were over. "29 is the last good year."

Ummm... no wonder old people always claim to be 29. It's the dental!

Just in case you were wondering, here is a fun little diagram of what I had done to my tooth yesterday. It's rather happy and friendly. The actual procedure: Not so much.

Image from: http://www.smilesbydrstyger.com/rootcanal.html

The Escape!

Have you ever been someplace that you felt you couldn't get out of? Like everything around you was conspiring to keep you there? (Much like Disneyland)

I have.

The place: Cairo.

Seriously.
I almost didn't make it out of Cairo that day. (Okay, that might be a little bit exaggerated... MAYBE.)

I arranged for a taxi to take me two places that inauspicious morning.

First, to the Pyramids. I wanted to snap a few photos.

Second, to the airport, to leave the Middle East for Europa.

All I wanted was to drive up to the Pyramids, stop, take some photos and then go catch my flight. I had timed accordingly, requesting the taxi pick me up three hours before my flight would depart.

Well.

I wasn't specific enough. That was my bad.

You see, being an Westerner and therefore unused to the idea that everyone around you in the Middle East expects you to be drippingly rich and stupid enough to be bamboozled into parting with your money, I was bamboozled into parting with my money!

Ugh!

It was the second time in two days.

The cab driver, who supposedly didn't speak any English, drove me over to the pyramids and then kept driving... It was not unlike the time in Venezuela that I wanted to go into Caracas but the cab driver kept going past Caracas... (Thought I was going to die... but anyway.) We drove over to a little souvenir village on the far side of the pyramids and parked in front of a store where two men were waiting with a raggedy looking white horse with very tall, spindly legs.

One of the two men, with a big pot belly and a dishonest gleam in his eye welcomed me and immediately helped me onto the horse, while I was busy protesting and confused about why I was getting onto the bloody animal to begin with. I had no desire to ride a horse around the pyramids! I didn't have time for it, I was still saddle sore from the previous (awesome) day of horse riding and I realllllllly didn't want to smell like a horse on the airplane!

Well.

Before I could un-bamboozle myself, I'd been switched to a different (less naggish) horse (when they found I had been riding the previous day and could ride) and given a "free" guide (mandatory) to take me around the pyramid park and show me all 9 pyramids...

The fat man in charge told me some ridiculous price for the horse tour for Two hours time.

I was exstatic! A way out!

I had neither two hours or anywhere near his asking price in cash. I started to dismount and then somehow I ended up negotiating a "reasonable" price for the ride (basically most of my leftover Egyptian poundage).

Except I still didn't want to be riding that blasted horse! Ugh.

The guide was very friendly, which is probably the only reason I stayed on the darned animal.

When did I become such a pushover? When I got to Egypt, that's when.

Time seems to be a very fluid concept many places outside of the US/UK. Have you experienced this? I repeatedly told my guide I had only 45 minutes to see the pyramids and he kept talking about the long route we would take and see everything! Finally after about 15 minutes I told him very firmly, "In ten minutes we have to turn around and go back or I will miss my flight!"

 Look at how teeny-tiny the sphinx is!

So finally Mr. Tourguide put the kibbosh on the long tour and took me directly to the lookout point for the biggest set of pyramids, I snapped some pix and then got back in the cab, fairly steamed at my driver for bringing me to the horse place (where he had very obviously arranged to received a kick-back on anything I paid.)

The ride to the airport was uncomfortable. I was mad. I didn't trust the driver. And when we stopped seeing signs for the airport on the freeway I became concerned. The driver pulled over to the side of the freeway... and then he opened the trunk... ? I have no idea why. He got on his phone and began making calls, looking very suspicious and speaking in heated, rapid Egyptian.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting in the back seat of the car. My bag is in the trunk with the cab driver on the phone next to it. I can see him through the space between the trunk and bottom of the car through the back windshield. I start contemplating what I'd do if I needed to make a break for it:

1. Phone is in my hand. Call the operator for help.

2. My daypack is with me in the back of the car. Grab it.

3. Run.

4. Hide.

That's all I could plan. I had no weapon as I was packed for a flight. We were stopped on the side of a busy freeway on a wide, flat, open expanse of desert. The nearest anything was at least a mile away on either side of the freeway (ritzy housing developments with green grass and palm trees).

I kept rehearsing the self defense pattern from Miss Congeniality: S.I.N.G. (Soloplex, Instep, Nose, Groin).

Finally, as I made to grab the door handle of the cab and get out, the driver (who had been watching me watch him) got back into the driver's seat and we hit the road again. I kept my eyes glued on him. He looked very nervous.


I'm really not sure what that whole thing was about. But obviously when you're a female traveling solo, you're going to be on the defensive when you're uncomfortable. Listen to your gut. It's normally right. Mine said this situation was shady.

After switching directions on the freeway and backtracking at least ten miles we finally made it to the airport. I had around 45 minutes until my flight was scheduled to depart. I hopped out of the cab and shot daggers at the driver with my eyes. He still looked shady. When I got into the airport I did a once-over of my bag - all of the exterior compartments and easily accessible areas. Heaven forbid anything be put into my bag that would cause problems in the airport!

Then I checked in. Apparently checking in with only 45 minutes to spare in Cairo really isn't a big deal.

BUT.

Don't expect to be able to print out your boarding pass at the airport there! Ridiculous.... Ten minutes of running around like mad to print off my documents, followed by very un-thorough security screenings and I was in the terminal, then on the plane, which was gloriously nearly 3/4 empty so I had an entire row to myself in which I could smell like a horse without feeling bad about it.

I never relaxed until the flight touched down in Malta and I'd left behind all traces of Cairo.

I won't be spending anymore time in Cairo on my own, I think.

Faraway Fantasy Friday: It's that Time of Year

It's that time of year to begin contemplating next Spring's trip... I mean very seriously contemplating.

I mean contemplating enough to decide where to go by December.

Because mid-December is when I slap down the deposits and begin to book airfares. After the airfare is purchased and the trip booked is when all of the extra excursion-finding and cool-stuff-locating begins.

So I have my list of want-to-take trips ready and I need some serious input. What would you do if you could choose from the list below? Have you been to any of those places? If so, what was your favorite part?

I want to know!

I have decisions to make!

So here goes (in no particular order or preference):


PS: I like to visit more than one country on my trips.

Option 1: Spain/Morocco
(including some of the Spanish isles: Mallorca/Malaga)

Option 2: Israel.
Two weeks. And then someplace less intense. And less expensive. Like Rome (again). Or maybe southern Italy.

Option 3: Turkey/Cyprus
(15-day tour of Turkey: Click Here for complete details plus a hop over to Cyprus... because heck, it's right there! Then again so is Israel, but Israel is super expensive and I can't do Israel and the Turkish tour all at once... monetarily-wise. Ya know?)

Option 4: Australia (Sydney and Cairns +?) + New Zealand (North) + Fiji ("backpacking" the Yasawa islands for about a week.)

Option 5:
Bali, Indonesia. Plus somewhere else with a good airfare deal to or from Bali. Maybe South Africa? Maybe Australia?

What do you think?

Where do you want to be?

The World According to San Francisco

Check this out:

(Click to enlarge)

Sadly, hilariously, crazily... true.

Spy Movie Hotel Room

The second and final night that I spent in Cairo, after a long day of walking, pedicuring, swindling locals and horse riding was spent doing menial, but necessary things. Things like walking down the street to a gas station to buy a Galaxy Chocolate bar, and then heading over to a local type of fast-food restaurant a couple of blocks from my hotel.

Well.

It was official. I was without a guide or group wandering the streets of Cairo, once again. And you know, it was rather fun that evening, for a while at least. I think (I wish I could remember) that I ate at a fast food chain called Ma'Momen. It was one of the places our guide deemed safe for us non-Egyptians to eat. Fast food in Cairo is NOT like unto fast food in other places. Sure, there are KFCs and Arby's and McDonalds' all over Cairo, but I'm a local-style traveler (within reason). And eating at Ma'Momen was an adventure! No one there spoke English. There were lines and lines and lines of people crowded into the open-to-the-street style walk-up ordering pavilion. I reviewed the photos of the local food and pointed to something that looked like a Kafta sandwich and the young worker looked puzzlingly at me, so I said to him "Kafta?" and pointed once again. He punched something into his cash machine and motioned for me to wait to the Left. Everyone around me received numbers on their receipts that would be called out when their orders were ready, but my order-taker didn't even bother giving me one, knowing that I didn't understand Arabic and wouldn't be able to read the number.

So I stood around, watching the swarms of Egyptian men around me, ordering, shouting, lulling around waiting for their food to be dished up from piles of Falafel, skewers of hot sliced kebab and vats of chopped tomato and onion. Within a few moments, of me standing there, the atmosphere around me changed from one of slight hostility to the blonde woman standing in what must have been mostly a man's venue to curiosity to friendliness. The workers would take turns coming up to the counter next to me and smile or wave. The customers around began to nod at me and some even said "Whereareyooooofrom? Youarewelcome!" And then my food came, I had no idea what it would turn out to be, but it took about four workers to hand me the bag and they waved as we all said goodbye and I headed away down the street.

I ate as I walked. I was on a mission. You see, when I was gleefully galloping across the desert on my gorgeous Arabian horse, I unintentionally made a sacrifice to the gods of ancient Egypt: My camera's lenscap.

HORROR! PANIC! Argh.

Knowing that it was futile, I embarked on another walking safari of Cairo, this one at night, to find a new lenscap for my camera. Cairo at night is even more seedy and dirty than it is in the day. I stopped at various electronics shops only to be directed further along, further away, to another street, another district. I passed the auto shops, the clothing sellers with their windows full of bright neons, I traveled through Crowds of Egyptians all staring at the foreigner who dared mingle with them in the dark. It was a gutsy thing, I must say. But I was determined to give it my best and try to save my camera lens.

Finally, after walking miles and having spent the rest of my energy, my legs protested walking any further. I found the main road that my hotel lived on and began to walk back. Miles and miles. And then I was home again. Back to the small room on the sixth floor of a building that had been nice sixty years ago. It was passable as far as lodging goes. Much better than my room in Amman! I flipped the breaker to turn my AC unit on, once again. (It would run for twenty minutes and then shut off, only to come back on after flipping the breaker again.) I dared open the creaky shutters once to find my small window overlooking a large street, caked and covered in years of city grime. The previously muffled city sounds came through at me, loud and crisp. I closed the shutter and quickly locked them again and sat down on my small single bed, covered in a rough nappy brown blanket and realized what this room reminded me of...

It was the room from Spy movies. 

It was the room you see the ex-pat or person on the run hiding out in: Small, dingy, confined, non-descript and unmemorable. Except that it will be forever burnt into my memory as the hotel that I stayed in that was like the Bourne Identity.

But it had a wonderful, clean, newly remodeled bathroom with a fabulous bathtub that I spent the next hour doing laundry by hand in.

View from The Capsis Palace Hotel. Ramsis Road, Cairo. Photos from TripAdvisor.

Oh! And because I know you're dying to find out just how I managed my missing lens cap problem: Zip Lock baggie wrapped around the lens + hair scrunchy to hold it in place. LOVE my ziplocks while traveling. 

 

Faraway Fantasy Friday: Alexandria

Have you seen the movie Agora?

Have you even heard of it?

Probably not.

I only have because it was advertised EVERYWHERE when I was in Rome this spring. It releases on DVD soon and will be available on Netflix. I watched it a few months back... it's interesting. Very thought-provoking.

But, beyond the message of the movie, I began to think about the parts of Egypt I didn't see.

Specifically Alexandria (the setting of Agora... you see, it all comes together!).

Today I'm thinking about ancient libraries filled with the Wisdom of the Ages; Roman-Egyptian streets and Philosphers; A white-stone city on the shores of the Mediterranean sea that was once the bedrock of modern civilization.

Photo from: http://i-cias.com/egypt/alexandria07.htm, by Tore Kjeilen

Where do you want to be today?

Remember the time...

The other day, while looking through some old personal video footage for a work project I stumbled across some old clips that I threw against a Beach Boys song just for fun:

Did I ever tell you about the day I spent laying on the beach in St. Lucia with a devastatingly handsome Italian man?

No?

*Shock!*

Hmmm... Sigh. Italians.
Actually, come to think about it, I think this is when my partiality to them began.

;)

Getting Taken For a Ride: Cairo Style, Part 2

Going along with the theme of that particular day in Cairo, later that afternoon I went for another type of ride, or maybe two.

First: A taxi. A taxi ride through Cairo. Beyond the outskirts of the city and into the slums. Then through the slums, past rivers of trash piled on top of drinking water (truly, I watched a woman come out of her hovel, take a bucket and plunge it into the dirt gutter full of plastic trash, pull up a load of water and take it back into her house.) and out into a sort of countryside area where farmers in long shirt-like outfits with headscarves worked the fertile soil into oases of lush, green crops. When finally my taxi stopped, we had pulled into a compound of stables and arenas where beautiful, proud Arabian horses pranced happily. FB Stables in Amina.

And then I galloped on an Arabian horse across the Egyptian Desert. Around the Pyramids and back again, I imagined the open area as it was thousands of years ago when proud soldiers rode in chariots across the sands, brandishing spears. I wondered at the ever changing, yet unchanging nature of the place as the Sun set like a great orange ball of gassy flame in the Desert sky, nestled against a crumbling pyramid.

And all was well with the world.

Faraway Fantasy Friday: Guess?

It's not foreign.

It's not exotic.

It's not even out of state.

It's contrived.

It's controlled.

It's corporate.

It's clean.

There are a million tunnels underneath it!

It's full of humans in costumes.

I want to go to Disneyland. I want to go to Disneyland for the Halloween festivities.

Which is very strange and altogether very unlike me. You remember I don't like crowds and lines.

Did you know that the first time my parents took me to Disneyland as a toddler it freaked me out so badly that I wouldn't stop crying? So my parents packed me back into the car and simply drove home (8 hours north).

But still, this nagging desire to go to Disneyland persists.

I will brave the lines! I will put up with the crowds of pesky people! I will ride Pirates of the Caribbean at least a dozen times. And Space Mountain. And buy over-priced churros and maybe even a sweat shirt! UGH.

I think it's due to the stupid TV commercials for Disneyland at Halloween. They popped onto my television screen and like a crack-whore I was hooked. I thought subliminal messaging was illegal?

What the??

Really?

Yes, today I want to go to Disneyland.

Did you hear the joke about the two Blondes driving to Disneyland?

Well, they'd driven all day and finally reached Southern California. They saw a sign that said "Disneyland Left."

So they turned around and went home.

Bahahahahahahaha! Get it?

Random, I know. Much like my crazy random desire to head to the Land of D.

Photo from chipandco.com

Where do you want to be today?

Getting Taken for a Ride... Cairo Style

I'm rather embarrassed to write this account of shame, deception and *gasp* getting taken for a ride.

Really. Embarrassed.

Dare I say my pride is wounded because of the following experience?

Yes, 

yes I dare say it is.

Because I consider myself to be somewhat travel savvy. I mean, traveling to 44 countries has to mean you've gathered some travel know-how, right?

That's what I thought before.

That infamous day I set off down the streets of Cairo (yes, nervously) on foot and I had no intention of falling into any tourist traps or spending money on stupid souvenirs. It was the furthest thing from my mind. (Perhaps therein lies the problem.) Shopping-wise, there was one item I wanted to attain: a tiny miniature pyramid. (Which I never did get, by the way.) Anything else was completely uninteresting to me. Or so I thought.

And at one point in my Cairo walkabout (on the way to getting that previously blogged about heavenly pedicure) I found myself on the wrong side of a very busy Egyptian street.

Having lived on a verrrrrry busy street (complete with railroad tracks next door) at one point in my young life, and also having crossed that verrrrry busy street regularly, you know, to get to the other side (my little friends lived over yonder) I would cross that street without any problems. So with the confidence instilled by my childhood in tow, I crossed 1/2 of the crazy street (barely, and getting yelled at in Egyptian in the process - all words that I'm sure were just lovely and fuzzy warm good words) and came to rest on a median in the middle of the six-lane roadway. And I stayed there in the middle for quite a while... because the second half, it turns out, was the hardest half to cross. Every time I thought about setting out for the other side, another mad, speed-demon auto-macchina would come barreling at me out of nowhere, shouting at me and making lovely hand gestures.

And then, just as I was finally going to cross the street in a mad dash, I was distracted by a tall, thin Egyptian man running across the street towards me, from the direction I wanted to go.

He sidled right up to me and say "Hello there! I think you do not know how to cross our Egyptian streets, come I will show you." And with that, he dashed back the way he came, with me following closely behind. There was something shady about him, and being that I had been about to self-rescue myself from my predicament, I tried to quickly thank him and made to keep walking to my destination (the spa-hotel that was now just yards away).

But he kept talking to me.

"Whereareyooofrom, yoooarewelcomed, dooyouvork? Wheredooyouvork? Ahhh, theeeseeseaverrrygudcompany." And so on, and so forth. Finally, I found myself a block to the left of my destination, following a few steps behind the fellow, prepared at any moment to make a mad-dash for my life. But as we entered a small store, and he disappeared I realized that he was a schill. His job was to get me into the store to buy stuff. The store was filled with seriously overpriced Egyptian art and perfumes. And when I left the store with a small vial of perfume and a Papyrus with my name written on it in ancient Egyptian  (actually it doesn't have my name on it because I wouldn't write my real name down as they'd requested - I made one up, having violent daydreams of credit-card and identity theft) for an exorbitant price. (In dollars!)

 Inside the store: The guy's "Sister" who supposedly was getting married the next day, 

painting a Papyrus with my name on it in "ancient Egyptian."

I was stuck in a stupor, thinking "WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED?" "Why am I holding this freaking perfume?" "Why did I just pay them all of that money?" 
"WHAT?????"

And I recounted the event to myself: Schill. Some story about his sister getting married the next day. Happy wedding! Christy uncomfortable. Christy distracted by pretty perfume bottles she doesn't need. Christy checking out the artwork. Smelling perfumes. Paying money. Leaving store minus money, plus stupid souvenirs she didn't want.


Really. I was speechless. And a bit baffled by the mystery that is Egyptian Salesmanship. So crafty. So practiced. So artful. SO manipulative. SO FRUSTRATING.

And I vowed to myself then and there, fist raised high to the sky, Scarlett O'Hara-style:

 Scarlett O'Hara, Gone with the Wind   (1939)

"Cairo! I vow you will not get the best of me!!"

Until it happened again the next day. The getting-taken-advantage-of-thing.

Seriously.

"But I can't think about that now, I'll think about it tomorrow."

Grrr.

A Weekend in the Mountains

Labor Day Weekend. I went with a group of friends to the El Dorado National forest in Central Northern California. We spent the weekend sleeping on bunk beds made of rock-hard planks of wood, hiking around boulder-ridden trails, playing board games, swimming, kayaking and jet skiing in the lake, performing various service projects to better the camp we were staying at and altogether having an amazing time in the mountains. There really is nothing like the clean air and starry expanse of dark blue sky at night in the mountains. With no other light to distract from the view, the night sky is magical.

And those awful wooden plank beds sure do make going home a treat. (I LOOOOOOVE my double pillow-top mattress + featherbed combo.)

When was the last time you went camping in the mountains?

Faraway Fantasy Friday: Cappadocia

Turkey is high on my travel priority list for many reasons. In fact, I think I'll be heading there in the spring. The country straddles Europe and Asia (literally) and is home to a variety of climates and scenery, as well as a culture seeped in rich history.

In the middle of the country, in the mountains there is a place called Cappadocia. It is riddled with caves and caverns and is most easily traversed on horseback. Much of life in that place is actually hewn into the rock formations that make up it's hillsides.

Today I want to travel there, to those caves on horseback and discover the ancient secrets that lie within.

(Photos from: http://travelandtourismtoday.blogspot.com/2010/09/cappadocia-in-nevsehir-turkey.html)

Where do you want to be today?