Eye Wander. Eye Write. Eye Click.

2012 Calendar Project: November

2012-01-31T08:01:00.000-08:00

Ye Olde London Towne

California Missions Project/Dedicated Parenting

2012-01-26T08:01:00.000-08:00

My recent visits to a couple of California's Missions brought to mind grade school. Grade school, you question. Yes, Grade School.

In the fourth grade we studied the missions of California. And we visited Mission San Francisco Solano in Sonoma, California. I vividly remember standing beneath a large, old tree in the courtyard behind the mission. I don't know why it made such an impresion. But visiting the same place recently brought me back to that moment, around twenty years ago, that stood out so starkly in my memory.

As a finale to our studies of the Missions, Each student was required to make a model of a Mission of their choice. An actual, phsyical model made by hand, not computer (this was back in the day when The Oregon Trail was the game of choice on old Macintosh LCs and had to be booted manually from floppy discs...)
(OHMYGOSHIAMOLD!!!)

I really can't remember which mission I chose. But I do remember exactly what it looked like and have a perfect aerial view of it in my mind's eye. It was white with a red roof, had brown wooden pillars and a chapel and a fountain and fields...

Yah, you're right, I'm describing EVERY Spanish Mission.

If given a photo, I could pick out my mission. So there. Nyah. (Okay, I just looked it up, it was the Santa Barbara Mission.)

Anyhoo. My Mission project was simply stunning. It was the best of the projects. Not that I'm biased. It simply was the best of the projects. Making this thing was a BIG darned deal. I dragged my mother down to the local art supply and spent more than an hour walking around the aisles, trying to decide what to construct my project from.

And after careful consideration and much thought, I decided that my Mission would be modeled from a very large, rectangular, gray slab of damp clay sitting encased in a large plastic bag in the center of the store.

My mother tried her best to dissuade me from the clay, for some reason. I don't know what the reason for the resistance was, but I do remember her being displeased with my choice.

But I stuck to my guns. It was to be the clay. It HAD to be the clay. What else would give my project such an authentic look? I couldn't think of anything. Sugarcubes wouldn't cut it. Neither would styrafoam.

So we got the clay. And white paint. And red paint for the roof. And dried peat moss for the fields and fake fences and little tiny plastic farm animals.

And I took my slab of clay and accessories home and then began to fret. And worry. And realized that I had NO idea how to attack/build my project. I was/am a VERY literal child/person. In order to know how to work with mediums I needed to actually see the materials worked with. I stressed about working with the clay, about it drying out or becoming too wet and actually shaping it into the large, long, rectangular shape I was after, with a proper roof and a chapel... Oh the stress! It was huge and traumatic for my ten-year old (?) self.

But I vaguely remember a large knife to cut the clay pieces with, and a large piece of plywood for the base of my model and a bucket of water to keep the clay damp.

And past that, I really don't remember anything else to do with the building/shaping of my model. I remember applying the peat moss and plastic fencing/animals, and maybe shaping some clay windows and doing a bit of painting.

Each afternoon I'd dabble a bit and each night I'd go to sleep. And in the morning I'd come back and be amazed at how my project had progressed... And my ten-year-old mind somehow believed that it was due to my own amazingness.

Uh... Right. My not-ten-year-old mind understands what really happened.
I'm sure you understand what I'm getting at.
My Father took over. (Maybe my Mother too, but I think it was my Dad) My Father, the builder of all things that needed to be built. The fixer of cars and washing machines and shoes and bicycles. My Father, who could do anything, figure out anything and explain anything! (Same Father who, two years later, built me a Roman Chariot for a project on Rome... yah, it was SO SWEET.) (My Mom was pretty rad too, in her own ways, in case you were wondering.)
And all of this explanation leads me to the point of this story, which is: Parents are cool people.

Exploring Life's Symmetry in Sonoma

2012-01-25T08:01:00.000-08:00

Revisiting one's childhood can be a fun thing.

When I moved away from California at the age of twenty to go to College on the East Coast, I never expected to live in California again. My family moved up to Northern middle-of-freaking-nowhere-Idaho when I was seventeen and I had no one left out on the Left coast to lure me back. But that's not the whole story of my separation from California. Before moving back here I lived in Virginia, Montana, Idaho, Utah, Las Vegas and Mississippi, with long stints of time spent at sea/in Florida and in foreign countries. I have in my head routes to internet cafes and grocery stores for hundreds of different places. I can find my way to an airport by train or cab or metro easily in most any language. There was a lot of time and space, education and mileage and growing pains and picking myself up and pressing on done in the years I was not in California.

And when I arrived here again I was different. And it felt like I'd passed entire lifetimes away from here. And yet (nearly five years ago now) I moved back to Northern California,and in a strange little twist of fate or irony or serendipity, whatever you want to call it, I now live about 15 miles away from the city I grew up in. And believe you me, I think that surprises me more than anyone. Because... of all the gin joints in all the world... here is where I ended up. (Not to stay permanently, mind you. I've always known that. I have many, many more miles to travel in this daily-growing-older model body I'm sporting.)

Sometimes a déjà vu sense of strange familiarity slash completely unknown washes over me when I encounter the places and things around me, here near my childhood stomping grounds, and it surprises me. After all, I live just far enough away from my childhood haunt to completely blaze new trails through the days of my life here. Yet, I still wander back to the old neighborhoods and establishments from time to time.

Last weekend I revisited a couple of places I've wanted to see (again) for a while but hadn't yet made the time: Lachryma Montis and the San Francisco Solano Mission in Sonoma, California. And while the feature at the home of General Vallejo that I remember the most of anything - a large arbor of hanging multi-colored fuschias that were so profuse that they covered an entire porch (As a visiting twelve year old, I was enraptured by the sight and still picture it in my mind today as one of the loveliest flowery sights I've ever seen.) - was now gone, the trip was well worth the drive.

More on Sonoma soon. (Meanwhile, you should really go and visit.)

Here's a peek:

2012 Calendar Project: June

2012-01-23T08:01:00.000-08:00

How does one say Voila! in Greek, I wonder?

June Calendar graphic.

A Turkish Bus Ride

2012-01-20T08:01:00.000-08:00

My friends, bus rides are the way to travel around Turkey, aside from airplanes. Bus rides. Who knew?

Bus Depots are alive and well in Turkey! They are what Greyhound was fifty years ago, a means to traverse large distances relatively inexpensively. But these days while Greyhound seems to be dwindling somewhat in the US, Bus travel in Turkey is thriving. That's because Turkey is vast. And it is not connected by a train system. Airplanes fly all over the country, sure, but a newbie to travel isn't going to want to mess with the rental car system/driving in Turkey. SO buses.

I traveled from Izmir to Bodrum by bus. It took around four hours in a comfortable, assigned-seating bus with in-seat entertainment systems. (Sure, it was all in Turkish, but it was still entertaining. Maybe more than normal.) I'm convinced that if I'd been in a car the trip would have only taken two hours. And if it'd been in the US, it probably would have been a 75 minute trip. Yah. But so it is.

We made one stop along the way, a literal five-minute pit stop (squatter bathrooms). Heaven help the person who misses a bus there! We were somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. In the mid-section of Turkey, somewhat inland away from the coast. Until the moment I stepped off of that bus I thought I'd experienced heat. I've traveled to Egypt and Jordan and the Caribbean, for pete's sake. Nothing had ever prepared me for the breath-robbing wall of heat that met me when I stepped out of the air-conditioned bus. Dry and hot, like standing over a roaring pit-fire, the temperature of this place could be seen in waves rising off of the ground. I got back on the bus and away we went.

An hour later, the bus turned slightly to the right and we made for the southern coast of Turkey. Gone was the oppressive heat, replaced with cool salty breeze mingled with a Mediterranean blue sea and bright pink bowers of bougainvillea.

A year or so ago, while I was visiting Karchner Caverns outside of Tucson, Arizona, I met a British couple traveling across the US. We began to chat about travel, as travelers do, and when I mentioned that I was planning to visit Turkey soon, they gave me heaps and loads of suggestions. Do, they said, travel by bus! It's cheap and easy and quite comfortable. See Bodrum and Pamukkele and Ephesus and Kas and dozens of other little places along the way. Well, I didn't make it inland to Cappadocia or far South to Kas (Was SORELY dissappointed to miss seeing the sunken city there), but I can definitely confirm that bus travel in Turkey is indeed the way to go! Alas, I'll be back again to see the rest.

Tips:
-Book ahead. At least three days to a week. You'll probably have trouble with same-day tickets. Especially in the tourist season.
-Book directly, in-person at the bus depot. It'll save you time and money and runaround. Turkey is full of "middlemen" who are quite happy to help you out, for a price.
-TIME. As in, you need it if you go to Turkey, time to see everything. You could make a good go at Turkey in two weeks by bus. Three would be best.

2012 Calendar Project: March

2012-01-18T08:01:00.000-08:00

I've decided to make my own calendar for 2012. As it's already January and it'll take me a little while to create the graphics I want, I'll be beginning my calendar in March. I may extend it through 2013. Who knows?

Here's the deal: I'll be taking my photography from various cities/countries/spots on the planet and creating a piece of artwork of sorts for each selection. I mean to add a quote about the spot as well. I've completed a draft for my first calendar page, what do you think? (Click on it to view larger)

We'll begin with Rome. Because it's my favorite place. Because it's amazing. Because "The ides of March" happens in, uh, March. Duh. Because, why not?

Dear PHIL 305, You Suck.

2012-01-16T08:01:00.000-08:00

So.

There's this thing called University. There are many of them, actually. You know, institutes of higher education.

I've been to a few of them. Taken classes. Learned. Etc. You know how it goes.

There's one thing I never did at University (well, probably many things I never did) and that is to Graduate.

Shock! Horror! Collective panic!

I know. I went to four schools over the course of 9+ years. Honestly, I was very well educated. I received a rigorous, diverse and sometimes eclectic education and was very well prepared for life and work. I wouldn't change a thing about the way I went about my schooling.

And I have ONE class yet to take before receiving my diploma. ONE. Three credits. One course.

(I left school to deal with some health issues, knowing I could take my last two courses online. I finished one last year. I took a fantastic job five years ago and never looked back.)

The time has come to take the class. I can't put it off any longer because if I do it will interfere with my personal goals.

But MY GOODNESS. This class just may kill me. Murder. Me. I've been looking over the Course Prerequisites online, you see.

I'll be taking Philosophy 305. It fulfills my language requirements. Wierd, huh? But not really, because philosophy is seriously mathematical and like a foreign language. Math and I don't get along. Classroom language courses and I don't get along. This class = Not.A.Good.Idea.

But there it is.

These are the prereqs:

Course Prerequisites

Presumably, your first logic course was BYU's Philosophy 205 or a comparable beginning course in formal logic. I don't want to bore you with a laundry list, but here is what I assume you know and can do: (1) You must understand these terms: argument, valid, sound, negation, conjunction, disjunction, conditional statement, antecedent, consequent, tautology, contingency, self-contradiction, implication, and equivalence. (2) You should be able to appraise the validity of syllogisms using some standard method such as Venn diagrams. (3) You must be able to use standard notation for truth-functional logic, and you should be able to appraise the validity of truth-functional arguments using some standard method such as truth tables. (4) You must know and be able to use fluently a standard system of rules for constructing proofs for valid truth-functional arguments as well as the usual proof strategies (such as conditional proof, indirect proof, and proof by cases), and you must be able to use such rules to demonstrate validity, tautologicality, implication, and equivalence. (5) This course starts from scratch with quantificational logic (sometimes called predicate calculus), but it would obviously help if you have had some introduction to quantifiers as well.

--

Is it just me that is already lost? Tautologicality? Quantificational?
I took Phil205 at BYU. I pretty much remember the word fallacy and what a straw-man argument is. Yah. I've got a lot of studying to do (I still have my textbook from 205, thankfully!)

Mind you, I just need to pass. PASS. I was a very good student throughout my schooling. D's and F's didn't happen. C's either. A's and B's were my thing. But this course, this very last course, sure I'd like to ace it. Realistically though, I'd be happy to pass.

So, there you have it. I have to pass this class. Then I is gonna be officially a college grad. Yippee.

And not to get ahead of myself, but there are some very, very exciting things that are going to happen once I finish this course. You are all going to be amazed.
:)

Janie and Her Alarm Clock (Gun)

2012-01-11T08:01:00.000-08:00

The past two mornings I have woken up with the song "Janie's Got a Gun" in my head. (Aerosmith... love!).

?

I have no idea why. I havne't been on an Aerosmith kick in months. And I haven't listened to that particular song in YEARS. (It's not on my Aerosmith playlist).

Time to psychoanalyze a bit... ?

Because, really, this is coming out of left field.

~~I have come to the conclusion that waking up and going to work is like unto having a gun put to my head.~~

NO. (I mean, really, how ridiculous is that? I'm blessed to even have a job. And I happen to love mine, even if it is stressful.)

Uh...

I need to get a hand gun?

Maybe.

Uh...

Maybe the ringtone on my iPhone, the one set as my alarm, sounds VAGUELY, from the depths of a sleep-coma, like the hook of Janie?

Time to switch ringtones.

Seriously. Janie's Got a Gun? Kind of disturbing to wake up to that, dontcha think?

Izmir/Ancient Smyrna & Kadifekale

2012-01-09T08:38:00.000-08:00

Most people bypass the city of Izmir when visiting Turkey.

Honestly, I would have bypassed Izmir except I needed to do some research there.

It's not a very tourist-friendly place. But it is an authentic Turkish city wherein the occasional tourist sticks out like a sore thumb. Blonde hair, light skin. Yah. That's me, trying to blend in, in TURKEY. Fail. Staring. Pointing. Yelling. Yah.

I made arrangements to visit Izmir & Ephesus through a local travel agency. The upside of doing this was the private car and driver. It was really a great way to get around, and my driver was fabulous. Very attentive, looked out for me and tried to answer all of my questions about very obscure things. The downside of booking this segment of my trip through a local agency was the AWFUL hotel they stuck me in and the pre-packaged group tour of Ephesus I was stuck on. Knowing what I do now, I would have booked everything but the driver separately.

Anyhoo.

Izmir. It's a very old city. It was once known as Smyrna.
It's roots date back to Alexander the Great.

Old Alex had a vision about a particular hillside, and about building a Castle/city on that hillside. The vision showed him that if he built the city on the top of the hill it would never be defeated. What came about was Kadifekale, the Velvet Castle. And Alex was right.

Kadifekale's remains still sit atop the ancient hill. It doesn't get many tourists and as such there is no entrance fee (the first no-entrance fee site I'd seen in Turkey). The site has been excavated and you can see the ruins of old cisterns, the castle walls and a chapel. Newer constructions and inclusions to the site include a children's playground (?) and the remains of an old restaurant (tables and chairs) nestled beside the tall walls of the fortress. It would have been a pretty cool place to eat dinner, actually.

At the bottom of the hill lie the remains of Smyrna's Agora, it's city market. The agora site is actually much more interesting than the castle, mostly because it's been excavated more and there's more to see. You can wander around under the old Agora floor and see ancient pipelines and waterways, fountains and collonades. It's not the best archaeological site I've been to, and I wouldn't necessarily say that it's worth everyone's time and effort to go out of the way to see, but I enjoyed it and did the research I needed.

Faraway Fantasy Friday: Nepal

2012-01-06T08:01:00.000-08:00

Today I'm thinking about Nepal.

I know. You're completely shocked, aren't you? You're saying: But Christy, you're not a mountain + snow + mountainous stuff loving kinda gal!

And I'm sitting here, hearing ya, saying: I KNOW!

But still, there it is. Nepal. With it's vertiginous terrain and exotic FAR away location and amazingly famously friendly people.

Nepal.

That is all.

Where do you want to be today?

Photo from: http://www.lonelyplanet.com/nepal/images/lake-at-gupa-pokhari-nepal$14364-12

by: Chris Bell

2011 In Review

2012-01-04T08:01:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

Can it really be 2012 already? Can you believe it? The years just seem to fly by these days. I blink and POW! Another one gone. Wowsers. 2011 was full of visits to places I've already been, short trips to local favorites and longer trips to exciting international destinations.

Here's my travel recap for this year:

January
Lake Tahoe with my childhood peeps. Games. Friends. Food. Snowshoeing. Good times!

Cambria California/Hearst Castle with my sis and Bro-in-law (and awesome Nephew). Love Hearst Castle!

February
Napa Hiking
Because sometimes a girls just gotta get away, yo.

Monterey Bay Aquarium
My favorite nephew turned 1! We took him to the Aquarium and introduced him to the underwater world. His favorite movie is still Finding Nemo to this day. He calls it "Wawa."

March
A local expedition to explore a place I haven't seen in YEARS. Probably twenty. Years. John Muir's house in Martinez, CA

April
I have no clue what I did in April. Uh... ? Please hold.

May
Virginia/DC/Gram's farm/Plantation tours

June
Castello di Amorosa (back to Napa) with my friend Kelli. A real Tuscan (style) Castle in Napa, California. Who knew?

Crystal Cove/Newport Beach California
The Birthday trip with my birthday buddy, Dawn. Discovered a new favorite place in California. Also discovered that SoCal really isn't half bad.

July
Again, no clue what I did in July. Worked probably. Busy season. Saved money for my NBT.

August/September
The BIG TRIP. Turkey and Greece. Mmm.

October
Recovered from the NBT. Kinda.

Disneyland. Yah. After two years of contemplating going, I finally made it to the big D. And it'll be another 20 years before I go again (hopefully).

November
Girls' weekend in Monterey with lots of Chocolate Chip cookies

Northern Idaho for Thanksgiving with the 'Rents

December
Crystal Cove reprise/Christmas on the Beach

What will 2012 bring, I wonder? I have a feeling it's going to be good. Really, really good.

Where did 2011 take you?

A Tale of Two Continents

2012-01-02T08:01:00.000-08:00

Istanbul is a place of magic and history and rich cultural tradition for many, many reasons. One of my favorite things about Istanbul is that it is the one city on earth that bridges two continents. I began my day in Europe, in the old sector of town (Sultanhemet) and set out walking. And walking. And walking. Forever.

Past the Basilica Cistern and the Grand Bazaar and the Calgalou Spa, down past Eminonou and the ferry port to a lovely, unassuming bridge that isn't very much to look at. The Galata Bridge. On it's length you'll find people walking, people fishing, people peddling bottled water and various crafts. It's only cool if you know that it's the bridge that will take you to Asia, to the Kadikoy and Uskudar sections of the city and beyond...

The Galata Bridge, facing the Asian side. (Photo from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Galata_Bridge_From_Tower.JPG)

My photos:

My favorite shot from the walk:

Day Trip to the Black Sea!

2011-12-30T08:01:00.000-08:00

Involving: 1 Ferry Boat. 1 Christy. 1 Bosphorus. 1 Sea of Marmara. 1 Black Sea. 1 Yogurt treat. & Loads of fun.

Walking toward the ferry terminal in Eminonou. Eminonou was probably my favorite Turkish word to say. Eh-Mee-No-New. Isnt' it fun?

My ride for the afternoon.

Packed ferry full of people just out to enjoy the day.

On the tip of the Bosphorus. Aya Sofia nearest to the boats. Blue Mosque behind to the left.

The vendor food being peddled on the ferry all afternoon included: Pretzels, Ice Cream, Candy and these cups of plain yogurt + a sugar packet. Pretty tasty actually.

Dolmabahce Palace. It was finished in 1856. It replaced Topkapi Palace as the royal residence.

A couple of sisters out for a day excursion. They were lovely! They really reminded me of me and my sister. Smelly, let's always do fun things together, okay?

Sea of Marmara leading to the Black Sea

Ewwwww. My least favorite type of toilet ever. Squatter.

Very cool old graveyard I found while hiking around in the hills. The tombstones are engraved in the old Turkish language.

Christmas 2011

2011-12-28T08:44:00.000-08:00

This year my version of Christmas was sublime.
It was sandy, salty, sunny and warm. It was filled with good friends and family phone calls and laughter and naps and book reading in a cottage by the sea.

How was your Christmas?

SADS

2011-12-23T08:01:00.000-08:00

Okay people.
You should know.
I get the SADS in the wintertime.

Yes, even here, in the area that everyone thinks is warm and sunny all year long, (California) which is a fallacy. This time of year nights hit the freezing temps (32F) and our days range between 40-60 degrees F, yes, that's not bad for winter, but it's also no fun. The sun sets by 5pm (which means I don't have time to hike after work) and even when it is out, the sun is weak and wussy. And I get pasty white and start to feel a bit like the pillsbury dough girl. Even my makeup stops matching my skin. That's when I know it's going to hit. Bad.

Today it hit. And I feel listless. And I just want to curl up in my crazy comfy down-covered bed and go to sleep for the rest of December. Or at least, that's what the SADS are telling me to do. What I REALLLLY crave is some daylight hiking time in the Northern California hills. It's been too long, my old friends. Winter keeps us apart!

SAD = Seasonal Affective Disorder.
That's fancy talk for: Needs to move to the Caribbean to get more sunshine and outdoorsiness. STAT.

So you can probably guess that I'm not a winter-loving kinda girl. Give me the hot days in June, July, August, September and I'm a happy camper.

Do you get the SADS? What's your favorite time of year?

Istanbul: Sultanhemet Walkabout

2011-12-21T08:01:00.000-08:00

1. Impromptu Ramadan Street Market in the Hippodrome

2. Amazing honey-drenched donuts from Ramadan Street Fair

in the Hippodrome

3. People watching in the open spaces between the Blue Mosque

and Aya Sofia

4. Gorgeous buildings found on the way to the Grand Bazaar

5. Inside the Grand Bazaar

6. Live, in-person demonstration on how to make a ~~meat popsicle~~ Kebab

7. Contemplating utilizing the Oldest Hamam in Istanbul

(over 300 years old!)...

8. Sunset over the Blue Mosque. (Check out the guys walking across the roof of the little bazaar)

You Know Travel Has Become a Lifestyle When...

2011-12-19T08:01:00.000-08:00

Hi, my name is Christy and I'm an addict. A travel addict.

Telltale signs that you are too:

-Your favorite websites include BBC travel, Lonely planet, G Adventures, and several travel blogs.

-You have mileage accounts with every major airline alliance.

-You have more than one airline mileage credit card, from which you've garnered multiple flights.

-You purchase everything with mileage credit cards to accrue miles.

-You're waiting to plan your next trip until you get those last few mileage miles credited to your account.

-You feel the need to plan a trip because you're running out of things you usually get from Duty Free stores in International Terminals. (Yes, I'm talking about buying makeup. And Galaxy chocolate bars.)

-You know when the booking windows open for which dates.

-You know exactly which tiny airline to look up for flights to your remote destination.

-You speak Airport code fluently. Maybe better than some airline employees.

-Your year doesn't revolve around school breaks anymore. You don't even know when school breaks are. Your year revolves around your travel schedule. (Except possibly for spring break. You know when that is and avoid traveling then like it's the source of the plague.)

-You only buy clothing that travels well (lightweight, linen for hot places, stretchy, non-wrinkle pants)

-You buy appliances based on adaptable voltage (110~250, not just 110 for us Americans).

-You have an App for converting measurements and currency on your phone.

-Your phone always has time and weather listings for your favorite destinations and upcoming trips (I've currently got:Home, Napa, Stinson Beach, King's Beach [Tahoe], Newport Beach, Utah, North Idaho, Virginia, San Juan ([PR], London, Rome, Istanbul, Santorini)

-Your travel backpack/suitcase is always ready for a last-minute trip and has in it: Headlamp, first-aid kit (complete with antibiotics for stomach maladies), sunblock, insect repellent and to-go Tide packets.

-You go to stores like REI just to peruse from time to time and garner ideas about a new system for packing things or what to wear or about making your trip easier. (I love REI!)

What did I miss?

Istanbul: Basilica Cistern

2011-12-16T08:01:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite spots in Istanbul is the Basilica Cistern. It's one of several hundred cisterns that lays beneath the city. It's the largest in the city. And it's gorgeous!

Fun Facts: (As always, gleaned from Wiki)
-It's name comes from the fact that it was built in a spot that once held a Basilica. The Basilica burnt down and the Emperor Constantine (from which Old Constantinople derives it's name) ordered a Cistern built. Constantine's cistern was demolished later on when the city was destroyed by the Nika Riots in 532. The Emperor Justinian ordered the Basilica Cistern rebuilt after that, and it was accomplished by over 7,000 slaves!

-The interior of the cistern is supported by a collection of arches and columns that are a hodgepodge of styles - from Corinthian, Doric and Ionian to nothing classical at all and Columns with carved Medusa heads at the bottom! (There are three Medusa columns in the Basilica cistern, two are oriented on their sides, one is upside down. They are purposefully not right-side-up in order to negate the stare of the Gorgon [which, legend has it, turns those who look upon it to stone!]) The mismatching is due to the fact that most of the columns were repurposed from other buildings/ruins in the city.

-The Cistern can store 100,000 tons of water, but is mostly empty today. (Which is why we can tour it.)

-Until 1985 tours of the Cistern were accomplished by boat! In 1985 a series of wooden walkways were built to replace the boats.

One of the Medusa Pillars

W Christmas Photos

2011-12-14T08:01:00.000-08:00

While up in the frozen wasteland of Northern Idaho for Thanksgiving with my parents, my little sister asked me to take some photos of her cute little (hugely tall) family. I was only too happy to oblige.

Kelly, (Sister) is also a creative-type and did all of her own photo editing. She did a great job with the color! (She has a design-y type blog, found here: http://kellywestover.blogspot.com/)

PS: My Nephew is freaking awesome. Dontcha think?

Istanbul: Topkapi Harem

2011-12-12T08:01:00.000-08:00

Once inside of Topkapi Palace you'll eventually come across the Harem, or Women's Palace. To tour the Harem, it will cost an additional 15TL (on top of the 20 TL you paid to get into Topkapi in the first place...) but in my opinion, the Harem is the most fascinating place in the compound and feels like the heart and soul of the palace.

Trusty Wiki says this:

Layout of the Harem and the Sultan's Private Apartments. (click on image for details)

The Gate of Carts entrance

The Imperial Harem (Harem-i Hümayûn) occupied one of the sections of the private apartments of the sultan; it contained more than 400 rooms.^[74] The harem was home to the sultan's mother, the Valide Sultan; the concubines^[75] The harem consists of a series of buildings and structures, connected through hallways and courtyards. Every service team and hierarchical group residing in the harem had its own living space clustered around a courtyard. The number of rooms is not determined, with probably over 100,^[76] of which only a few are open to the public. These apartments ( and wives of the sultan; and the rest of his family, including children; and their servants.Daires) were occupied respectively by the harem eunuchs, the Chief Harem Eunuch (Darüssaade Ağası), the concubines, the queen mother, the sultan's consorts, the princes and the favourites. There was no trespassing beyond the gates of the harem, except for the sultan, the queen mother, the sultan's consorts and favourites, the princes and the concubines as well as the eunuchs guarding the harem. The harem wing was only added at the end of the 16th century. Many of the rooms and features in the Harem were designed by Mimar Sinan. The harem section opens into the Second Courtyard (Divan Meydanı), which the Gate of Carriages (Arabalar Kapısı) also opens to. The structures expanded over time towards the Golden Horn side and evolved into a huge complex. The buildings added to this complex from its initial date of construction in the 15th century until the early 19th century capture the stylistic development of palace design and decoration. Parts of the harem were redecorated under the sultans Mahmud I and Osman III in an Italian-inspired Ottoman Baroque style. These decorations contrast with those of the Ottoman classical age.

--

I entered the Harem with mixed feelings. The history of the place fascinated me. But what it stands for in contrast to modern Women's rights is a downright nightmare. Put simply: I'm really happy to have been a tourist here. I would not like to have been a woman living here.

This table is where meals were served in the Harem. It's a sort of buffet.

The women were served according to rank/hierarchy.

Courtyard of the Favorites

It's just a drain. But I like the textures.

This plain hallway is called the Golden Road. It led from the Sultan's chambers to the Harem. It is believed by some to be called the Golden Road because the Sultan was said to throw golden coins to the residents of the Harem here on festival days.

Faraway Fantasy Friday: Maldives Dhoni Tour

2011-12-09T08:01:00.001-08:00

I've really been struggling of late, in picking the destination for my NBT. Nothing is really, really, really jumping out at me, saying "PICKMEPICKMEPICKME!" Sure, I want to go practically everywhere. But, usually there's one spot that stands out as the "IT" location of the trip, and I plan the rest of the trip around going to said IT spot.

But lately... funk.

I've narrowed it down to somewhere... tropical. Maybe. Or maybe not.

Ugh. You see?

Here's something that looks tempting, from G Adventures/ formerly GAP Tours, who I sailed around the Greek Isles with and had the time.of.my.life.

Maldives Dhoni Tour

The Maldives are pretty hot right now, as far as the travel scene goes. They're a group of islands off the Southernmost tip of India. Trips to the Maldives don't come cheap. Hotel rooms for BASIC accomodations run around $500 per night. That's right. $500 PER NIGHT. So if you've checked out the hefty pricetag on that Dhoni tour, relative to spending a week in a hotel on a Madivian island, the boat tour is CHEAP (and it includes meals...).

But where else to visit in the region? India? Dubai? Perhaps Sri Lanka, Kenya or Madagascar? With a stop in Spain on the way home?

Where would you go if you had two weeks to travel between the Maldives and San Francisco?

More about the Maldives:

The Maldives consists of approximately 1,190 coral islands grouped in a double chain of 26 atolls, along the north-south direction, spread over roughly 90,000 square kilometres (35,000 sq mi), making this one of the world's most dispersed countries. It lies between latitudes 1°S and 8°N, and longitudes 72° and 74°E. The atolls are composed of live coral reefs and sand bars, situated atop a submarine ridge 960 kilometres (600 mi) long that rises abruptly from the depths of the Indian Ocean and runs north to south. Only near the southern end of this natural coral barricade do two open passages permit safe ship navigation from one side of the Indian Ocean to the other through the territorial waters of Maldives. For administrative purposes the Maldivian government organized these atolls into twenty one administrative divisions. The largest island of Maldives is Gan, which belongs to Laamu Atoll or Hahdhummathi Maldives. In Addu Atoll the westernmost islands are connected by roads over the reef (collectively called Link Road) and the total length of the road is 14 km (9 mi).
The Maldives is the lowest country in the world, with a maximum natural ground level of only 2.3 metres (7 ft 7 in), with the average being only 1.5 metres (4 ft 11 in) above sea level, although in areas where construction exists, this has been increased to several metres. However, more than 80 per cent of the country's land is composed of coral islands that rise less than one metre above sea level.^[18]
The reef is composed of coral debris and living coral. This acts as a natural barrier against the sea, forming lagoons. Other islands, set at a distance and parallel to the reef, have their own protective fringe of reef. An opening in the surrounding coral barrier allows access to the calmer lagoon waters. The barrier reefs of the islands protect them from the storms and high waves of the Indian Ocean.^{[citation needed]}
A 15 centimetres (6 in) thick layer of humus forms the top layer of soil. Below the humus layer are 60 centimetres (2 ft) of sandstone, followed by sand and then fresh water. Due to high levels of salt in the soil near the beach, vegetation is limited there to a few plants such as shrubs, flowering plants, and small hedges. In the interior of the islands, more vegetation such as mangrove and banyan grow. Coconut palms, the national tree, are able to grow almost everywhere on the islands and are integral to the lifestyle of the population.^{[citation needed]}
The limited vegetation and land wildlife is supplemented by the abundance of marine life. The waters around the Maldives are abundant in rare species of biological and commercial value. Tuna fisheries are one of the main commercial resources. The Maldives have an amazing diversity of sea life, with corals and over 2,000 species of fish, ranging from reef fish to reef sharks, moray eels, and a wide variety of rays: Manta rays, Stingray and Eagle ray. The Maldivian waters also host whale sharks and hawksbill and green sea turtles.

From Wikipedia

Istanbul: Topkapi Palace

2011-12-07T08:01:00.000-08:00

Topkapi Palace, ah, Topkapi Palace...

You are the quintessential Ottoman Castle. I heart you. (I wouldn't have ever wanted to live in you when the palace was in use... for obvious Women's Rights reasons). In my wanderings I have seen many-a-palace in Paris, St. Petersburg, Denmark, Germany, Rome... All were magnificent. But Topkapi: You. Are. Astonishing.
--
So friends. When you visit Istanbul make sure you give yourself enough time to see the city. It is SO worth it. (NB: I spent three days there and could have spent much longer. I'm HIGHLY mobile though, and love to walk and cover A LOT of ground when I am out and about exploring, so if you aren't so into walking, give yourself more time.)

FYI:
Audio Guide: Most historic places in Istanbul offer walking audio guide headsets for rent. I gave this system a spin at Topkapi palace and I have to say that I was REALLY not impressed. The translation into English wasn't great and the information offered was bland and uninteresting and not in-depth at all. I'd suggest either buying a book about the palace or hiring a local guide (available in abundance at the palace) if you really want an information-packed tour.

Being so unsatisfied with my audio guide, I put it away and just wandered. It seems to be what I'm best at. Topkapi palace is an enormous, sprawling compound full of amazing treasures.

Lunch:
The restaraunt located inside of Topkapi Palace just may be the most overpriced food establishment in all of Turkey! The food was good, as was the view (of the converging seas). But it was truly, truly ridiculously price. I had a Gyros sandwish, some Baklava and a bottle of water and when I converted my purchase price to USD, I figured I'd spent over $24. ABSURD. As the Palace grounds are quite sprawling and remotely located, I suggest taking a meal, and plenty of water with you.

Random Facts:

Topkapi Palace housed the Royal family of the Ottoman Empire for 400 years of their 600+ year reign. (Between 1465-1856.) At the height of use, Topkapi palace housed more than 4,000 people! In 1924 the palace was turned into a Museum, just three years after the end of the Ottoman Empire.

The palace overlooks the Golden horn and the Sea of Marmara, and also boasts views of the Boshporus.

The Gate of Salutation

The Gate of Felicity

One of the many fountains in the palace

Detailing... everywhere. Amazing.

No clue what this is. But it's awesome.

View of the Bosphorus

Lights and props for a film shoot happening on palace grounds. So cool! I'd love to work on a film that shoots here!

View from the restaurant: Marmara and the Golden Horn.

More info about Topkapi Palace: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Topkap%C4%B1_Palace

Costs:
Admission: 20 TL (or 9 Euro) (approx $13 US)
Audio Guide: 15 TL (Not worth it though, don't do it!)
Lunch inside the palace: ABSURDLY PRICED.
Optional (seriously though, you shouldn't miss it): Women's Palace/Harem entrance fee: 15TL

Istanbul: Blue Mosque

2011-12-05T09:13:00.001-08:00

Being a girl who likes to get her bearings, before ever visiting any sites, I like to investigate a new city a bit. My investigation led me immediately to the Blue Mosque, like a magnet!

I watched groups of head-scarf clad women walk around the grounds. I explored the Roman hippodrome adjacent. I wandered the park between Blue Mosque and Aya Sofia and generally got my bearings in the city.

Once confident that I knew were I was, and more importantly where my hotel was in relation to where I was, I proceeded to go back around for the details. So I hopped into line (after first trying to go in the wrong door) and joined with a crowd of people who had an English speaking guide. I will admit that I didn't officially join their group. I kinda just stood close enough to hear some tidbits, not wanting to be stuck with a long-winded tour guide for too much time. Have you ever done that? Every time I go on a proper tour it seems my group picks up at least one "joiner" so I didn't feel bad about popping around some of the groups.

The Blue Mosque, unlike Aya Sofia is a working mosque. So free access is granted tourists when it is not prayer time.

I've visited mosques before. But never one of such fame and grandeur. My first experience with a large mosque was in Amman, Jordan. It was indeed a large, imposing structure but not ornate as I'd dreamed a mosque ought to be. I learned that I would have to go elsewhere to meet those expectations as Jordan is a modest country without the riches of oil...

The blue mosque was everything I could have wished for. Beautiful, colorful stained glass adorned the windows. Millions of blue-glazed tiles decorated the walls (the color is what gives the mosque it's name). My favorite accents inside were the elaborate little candle holders of different designs. The mosque is now wired for electricity, but standing there I could imagine days gone by where afternoon prayers were practiced in the candle-lit domed room. The guttering flames dancing about, catching a gleam from a rosy bit of window glass or a blue wall tile, breathing life into the world around.

One of the gates leading out of the Blue Mosque... and directly to Aya Sofia.

Interesting Tidbits about the Blue Mosque (from Wikipedia)

The Sultan Ahmed Mosque (Turkish: Sultanahmet Camii) is a historical mosque in Istanbul, the largest city in Turkey and the capital of the Ottoman Empire (from 1453 to 1923). The mosque is popularly known as the Blue Mosque for the blue tiles adorning the walls of its interior... It was built from 1609 to 1616, during the rule of Ahmed I.

-At its lower levels and at every pier, the interior of the mosque is lined with more than 20,000 handmade ceramic tiles, made at Iznik (the ancient Nicaea) in more than fifty different tulip designs. The tiles at lower levels are traditional in design, while at gallery level their design becomes flamboyant with representations of flowers, fruit and cypresses. More than 20,000 tiles were made under the supervision of the Iznik master potter Kasap Haci and Baris Efendi from Avanos (Cappadocia). The price to be paid for each tile was fixed by the sultan's decree, while tile prices in general increased over time. As a result, the quality of the tiles used in the building decreased gradually. Their colours have faded and changed (red turning into brown and green into blue, mottled whites) and the glazes have dulled. The tiles on the back balcony wall are recycled tiles from the harem in the Topkapı Palace, when it was damaged by fire in 1574.

Istanbul: Inside Aya Sofia

2011-11-30T11:20:00.001-08:00

Istanbul is chalk-full of churches and mosques. They're practically on every block. Seriously. Directly across a large lawn area from the Blue Mosque lays the Aya Sofia, or Hagia Sofia.

Aya Sofia was built around 500AD by the Roman Emperor Justinian as an Orthodox Basillica. Later it was converted to a Mosque and today, it's a museum. It is nearly 1500 years old and is the world's 4th largest Basilica.

The place is pretty much astonishing. It's HUGE. Walking across the thresholds of the ancient doorways you can't help but notice the well-worn, indented stones, beaten into odd shapes by time and use.

Standing in the large, open space under the dome feels a bit like standing the the center of the massive vertical space between the nave and apse of Notre Dame. You're surrounded by immensity and nothing all at once.

My favorite part of the place was climbing the long series of switch-backed ramps to the upper floor of the building. The ramp walkway reveals glimpses into inner workings and engineering of the building and stands as a testament to the ingenuity of man. On the upper floors you'll find bits of Christian/Byzantine mosaic, inlaid with gold still plastered onto the walls.

Downstairs an ornate "Sultan's box" will take your breath away. It is everything a Westerner would expect from the storybook pages of Arabian nights.

Visiting Aya Sofia costs 20TL/ about 9 Euro (~$14 US).

Thanks

2011-11-28T08:01:00.000-08:00

So remember the time it was the week of Thanksgiving and I dropped off the face of the planet? (AKA: I went to North Idaho) Yah, good times.

Last week I flew up to see the 'rents in the frozen North. And, like any good grizzly bear ought to do in the frozen wintery winter, I hibernated. I barely touched my computer all week. I didn't blog (obviously). I cooked. And slept. And spent time with my parents and sibs. And saw the new Twilight movie. (Which I will not review or voice my opinion about.) And played with my awesome Nephew, who is currently obsessed with cars. It was a really great week.

Oh, I occasionally left the house to go running. Here's proof that I saw the outside at least once:

What did you do for Thanksgiving?

Choose Your Own Adventure...

2011-11-18T08:01:00.000-08:00

I had a funny kind of affirmation given to me this past Sunday.

I went to a few different Universities. One of my Alma Mater is a small liberal arts school in Northwestern Virginia, named-oddly enough- Southern Virginia University (it started off a LONG time ago as a Women's Seminary called Southern Seminary. Some genius wanted to carry on the name in some way when it became a co-ed college and named it Southern Virginia College... and time marches on...)

It was a lovely school full of fun and wonderful classmates and FANTASTIC teachers. There I met my favorite art professor and mentor: Prof. V. I took several classes from him and spent long hours discussing things with him about art and life and the struggle to become.

Now, years later - more than ten! We are facebook friends and keep in touch. Travel has become a creative outlet for me and a defining part of my person. Sometimes we are so engulfed by the struggled that we forget to periodically stop and check for results. I don't think I'd even stopped to contemplate how engrained travel had become into my soul until recently. Prof. V. posted this on my facebook wall:

It seems that by doing what I love, I have made a name for myself. I have become a world traveler. That my name has become synonymous to a few with travel.

That may seem quite evident to you. But it's very exciting to me. I think of my twenty-year-old self, the self that had just begun my first art class with Professor V. and I could have never known, could never have guessed at the the life I've had for the past decade. It's been a heck of a ride. And it's been amazing.

Thanks Prof. V.

A Familiar Kind of Foreign

2011-11-16T08:01:00.000-08:00

I really ought to tell you more about my last big trip. The one to Turkey and Greece. The one I've been home from now for a couple of months.

I've avoided writing about it. I'll admit it. Writing about it would bring a sense of finality and finish-ment that I wasn't ready for.

You see. It was THE.BEST.TRIP.EVER.

Not even kidding.

So today I'll tell you about the beginning.

It all started with the airplane jitters. The excitement of packing and prepping and not sleeping the night before a trip. I love that process! I love leaving work for the last time before a trip and feeling that fabulously freeing sense of having nothing left to do. No responsibilities to take care of. No jobs to finish. Only fun things to think about and adventure on the horizon!

SFO>JFK. Pause for a failed attempt at sleeping on the floor in JFK's American terminal. Big fat FAIL, American, BTW for having the chairs with built in armrests between each seat instead of the big benches late travelers can sleep on.

JFK>LHR (I really love Heathrow airport. I'm not sure why. I just do.) Pause for a good night's rest in the airport Marriott.

LHR>IST... First REAL Destination acquired!

I stayed in a great little hotel called Sarnic Hotel in Sultanhemet, which is located literally a block (as the crow flies) kitty-corner to the Blue Mosque. Great location. The beds were a bit on the hard side, but it was a pleasant place with very friendly staff.

Three nights and three days I spent exploring Istanbul. It's the kind of place that goes on forever. It's the kind of place you could explore and explore and explore until you finally reach the end of it only to have to turn around and explore it all over again because it'll never be the same in two instances. Kind of like New York. With more falafel.

My favorite part of Istanbul? Topkapi palace. Because it's kind of amazing. And the Byzantine Cistern. So very cool. No wait, maybe it was the Grand Bazaar. Or sailing up and down the Bosporus?

You see, every part of Istanbul is both foreign and grand and comfortable. It is the stuff that Western filmmakers have made their movies and our dreams of since film began. You've seen these places in pictures and movies your whole life, only you didn't know it was Istanbul! Istanbul is an amazing combination of comfortable, foreign and hospitality. It's a wonderfully enriching travel experience.

Visit Istanbul. Trust me on this one. Just go.

This Just In

2011-11-14T10:18:00.001-08:00

Occupy Oakland has been evicted from Frank Ogawa plaza in Downtown Oakland.

FINALLY.

My office just opened for the day (at 10:00am) because the Police decided to empty out the plaza starting this morning at 4:00.

This time it was peaceful. Thank goodness. I guess over a month of illegal camping in the city center, illegal drug use in the camp, riots, marches, broken offices, business closures and a shooting (& resulting death), piled on top of the over $700,000 per week cost for extra police enforcement this madness was costing the city finally brought Oakland's moronic mayor to her senses.

Walking from the parking garage to my building this morning I took this photo (and then had fun embellishing it with red):

Just another day at work in Oakland...

Girls' Weekend

2011-11-11T08:01:00.000-08:00

I kinda like my little sister. It wasn't always so. As children we fought often. As teenagers we started to get along. Now that we're adults (maybe) I can say that I don't know what I'd do without my little sis. Sometimes she even surprises me by acting like my big sis. I guess that's bound to happen in some circumstances because she's married with a baby (my adorable nephew) and I'm still living the single life. We've always walked different paths and our paths usually complement each others' very well.

This past weekend we took the same path. We jumped into the car for a girls' getaway. Just the two of us.

It.Was.Divine.

We'd talked about doing a girls' weekend for about a year prior to actually going for it. Jobs, babies, life happened and time passed quickly.

But this past weekend was it! Finally!

We booked a room down in Monterey at the Portola Hotel & Spa. I chose that hotel in particular for it's location, and also because as kids we'd stayed there while my Dad attended at Chiropractic Convention. (It was the Doubletree Inn back then.) Little Sis doesn't remember much about that first stay, back in the eighties, but I do. We played elevator tag and swam in the fun, round pool for hours and hours. My Mom took us down to the pier and the beach and we ordered room service to the pool. One evening room service brought us up a delectable treat that we'll always remember: Strawberries with sour cream and brown sugar. YUM. We went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium for the first time. Yes, Monterey holds a lovely little corner of my heart and is the stage for some of my fondest childhood memories.

The Portola hotel did not disappoint us on this girls' getaway. Though it did seem a lot smaller than it had in my childhood memories...

When we checked in we were handed massive, warm chocolate chip cookies and then given our room keys. We were already in heaven!

We took our bags and our cookies, went to the elevator bank, (where I was THRILLED when Kelly asked "Hey, is this where we played elevator tag?" Yes! She did remember!) and shuffled to our room, which didn't have a sea-view, but it did have a balcony and two of the comfiest hotel beds I've ever stayed in. Heaven! Again!

(Photos of the Portola from http://www.portolahotel.com/about/photos.php)

The next two days were a blur of naps, beautiful coastal drives, gorgeous houses, a California Mission and delectable food...

Airfare Newsflash!

2011-11-09T08:01:00.000-08:00

British Air is having a fabulous sale right now! One way flights from $225. Book now and travel until the end of April.

Paris, Amsterdam, Prague, Barcelona, Rome... all on sale! AND your booking includes two nights in a hotel.

I'm thinking of Barcelona in March... Renting a car and driving down the coast. Taking a ferry to Ibiza and Majorca. Hopping over to Morocco. Seeing Andalusian horses and trying Paella. Listening to Spanish Guitar players and watching Flamenco dancing! Ah, Spain is calling!!

Just go to: British Air's website for details.

Where will you go?

Moving on Over...

2011-11-07T14:02:00.000-08:00

Today I moved into a new office at work. An office of my very own. Pretty exciting, no?

Tah dah!

Solidarity?

2011-11-02T13:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I bought lunch at one of my favorite sandwich shops in downtown Oakland. If you didn't know, I work in downtown Oakland, California. The very same Oakland which has been home to the Occupy Oakland movement, and, more recently, the protests (which are growing more and more violent) in Oakland. The action is all happening literally one block from my building.

Yesterday at the lunch counter I happened on a flyer being distributed there, calling for a city-wide strike to bring about these things (among others):

-Free Healthcare
-Free Education
-Redistribution of all wealth (equally)

I was positively FLOORED. And not in a good way.

I happen to agree that, yes, America is spiraling out of control and that things are going very, very wrong politically, economically and socially. I'll be doing what I can to end this ridiculousness by voting in the next election. That's how our system works.

Today, a Wednesday, I sit at home, not because I don't have a job. Not because I'm uneducated or incapable of holding a job. Today I can't go to work and make a living for myself because an Angry Mob has threatened violence against businesses who dare to open their doors for business. I for one do NOT support angry mobs that prevent businesses from functioning with a lynch-mob communist agenda.

The "Occupy" movement, in my humble opinion, is officially out of control.

I found this fantastically penned article via a friend:

Some Belated Parental Advice to Protesters
by Marybeth Hicks
Columnist, Townhall
October 20, 2011

Call it an occupational hazard, but I can’t look at the Occupy Wall Street protesters without thinking, “Who parented these people?”

As a culture columnist, I’ve commented on the social and political ramifications of the “movement” - now known as “OWS” - whose fairyland agenda can be summarized by one of their placards: “Everything for everybody.”

Thanks to their pipe-dream platform, it’s clear there are people with serious designs on “transformational” change in America who are using the protesters like bed springs in a brothel.

Yet it’s not my role as a commentator that prompts my parenting question, but rather the fact that I’m the mother of four teens and young adults. There are some crucial life lessons that the protesters’ moms clearly have not passed along.

Here, then, are five things the OWS protesters’ mothers should have taught their children but obviously didn’t, so I will:

• Life isn’t fair. The concept of justice - that everyone should be treated fairly - is a worthy and worthwhile moral imperative on which our nation was founded. But justice and economic equality are not the same. Or, as Mick Jagger said, “You can’t always get what you want.”

No matter how you try to “level the playing field,” some people have better luck, skills, talents or connections that land them in better places. Some seem to have all the advantages in life but squander them, others play the modest hand they’re dealt and make up the difference in hard work and perseverance, and some find jobs on Wall Street and eventually buy houses in the Hamptons. Is it fair? Stupid question.

• Nothing is “free.” Protesting with signs that seek “free” college degrees and “free” health care make you look like idiots, because colleges and hospitals don’t operate on rainbows and sunshine. There is no magic money machine to tap for your meandering educational careers and “slow paths” to adulthood, and the 53 percent of taxpaying Americans owe you neither a degree nor an annual physical.

While I’m pointing out this obvious fact, here are a few other things that are not free: overtime for police officers and municipal workers, trash hauling, repairs to fixtures and property, condoms, Band-Aids and the food that inexplicably appears on the tables in your makeshift protest kitchens. Real people with real dollars are underwriting your civic temper tantrum.

• Your word is your bond. When you demonstrate to eliminate student loan debt, you are advocating precisely the lack of integrity you decry in others. Loans are made based on solemn promises to repay them. No one forces you to borrow money; you are free to choose educational pursuits that don’t require loans, or to seek technical or vocational training that allows you to support yourself and your ongoing educational goals. Also, for the record, being a college student is not a state of victimization. It’s a privilege that billions of young people around the globe would die for - literally.

• A protest is not a party. On Saturday in New York, while making a mad dash from my cab to the door of my hotel to avoid you, I saw what isn’t evident in the newsreel footage of your demonstrations: Most of you are doing this only for attention and fun. Serious people in a sober pursuit of social and political change don’t dance jigs down Sixth Avenue like attendees of a Renaissance festival. You look foolish, you smell gross, you are clearly high and you don’t seem to realize that all around you are people who deem you irrelevant.

• There are reasons you haven’t found jobs. The truth? Your tattooed necks, gouged ears, facial piercings and dirty dreadlocks are off-putting. Nonconformity for the sake of nonconformity isn’t a virtue. Occupy reality: Only 4 percent of college graduates are out of work. If you are among that 4 percent, find a mirror and face the problem. It’s not them. It’s you.

Photos from: http://www.good.is/post/photos-at-occupy-oakland-a-night-of-protests-and-tear-gas/

Lazy Vs Laid Back

2011-10-31T08:01:00.000-07:00

Hawaii or the Caribbean?

It's a question I'm often asked.

I've always found that question very interesting. Interesting because The Caribbean, a grouping of several hundred islands, countries, cuisines and cultures is being compared Hawaii- a chain of 8 islands (+a few islets).

It doesn't quite compute to me. And I always return the question with one of my own: Which Caribbean island?

Usually my question is answered with a blank stare, or a hastily gathered response with an obvious choice like Jamaica, or St. Thomas, or The Virgin Islands.

My honest opinion on those choices:

Jamaica or Hawaii: Hawaii. I'm NOT a Jamaica fan. Sorry if you're a Jamaica fan, but I usually call it "A dirty hole." Take into consideration that I live in California. To get to Hawaii would take one five-hour flight. Getting to Jamaica would mean at least two flights and 10+ hours in the air. And a lot more money. NOT WORTH IT.

St. Thomas or Hawaii: Hawaii
For about the same reasons as Jamaica. St. Thomas isn't quite "A Dirty Hole." But it's darned close. And it's dangerous. Be very, very careful in St. Thomas.

The Virgin Islands or Hawaii: The BRITISH Virgin Islands. Hands down. Jump on a sailboat and go and see why. I plan to.

You see, I'm picky. I'd pick Hawaii only if my other options weren't more tempting.

There is one acceptable time for comparing Hawaii to the Caribbe, and that is when describing the attitudes found in the islands.

Hawaii, to me is beautiful, tropical, fun, sunny... but something is missing for me: The Caribbean spirit, if you will. Aloha spirit is, of course, warm and welcoming, but it's just not the same.

I've thought long and hard about this conundrum. I mean, you'd think that one gorgeous, jungle-clad, azure water island chain would be comparable to another? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong WRONG.

I could make a detailed grid of all the pros and cons between the two "places" but for me, the difference is simply this:

Hawaii is Lazy.

The Caribbean is Laid Back.

Now don't get me wrong. I love Polynesian culture. LOVE. IT. But if I were to choose between moving to a Caribbean island and a Hawaiian island, I'd pick a Caribbean island, no brainer. The way of life agrees with my constitution better, with the way I work and function.

So give me Puerto Rico, Antigua, Aruba, Barbados. I leave the Alohas to the rest of the mainland Californians.

Grappling

2011-10-28T16:06:00.000-07:00

I've been mulling over what it is, exactly that drives me to keep traveling. I love it, that much is certain. But what is it that I love?

Is it the long, sleepless, dehydrating, cramped hours on planes, buses, trains and in cars?

How about the roll of the dice, hoping that the next place I stay will have a comfortable, clean bed and hot water for a shower?

Maybe the cases of the pharoah and sultan's revenge? (and just what are those guys so angry about in the first place, anyway?)

How about the endless pleasure of the company of a companion called jetlag.

Perhaps the resulting syndrome, upon arriving at home, of an empty checking account.

Or

The excitement of getting on that plane, never knowing who I'll meet or what they will inspire.

The possibility of sleeping in a new country and seeing things I never dreamt possible.

Tasting new and exotic foods.

Wandering ancient streets and discovering a piece of ancient ingenuity still in use today.

Perhaps it's just the possibilty of possibility.

I've been told that I am a grappler. I grapple around at everything around me for explanation until I've got enough reason to make a decision. I think that's pretty spot on.

For me the thrill is the struggle. It's the possibility and the work and the unknown. It's the act of discovery and the moment of reward. And then I need to move on, start something new and put some new design into motion for the future. That is what I thrive on. Forward motion.

Specialized Adventure with a Side of Nausea

2011-10-26T08:01:00.000-07:00

I've got a cast iron stomach. As a teen I LOVED roller coasters and those spinning room rides and basically any ride that could make my stomach drop, resulting in that heart-pounding fun high.

So it's kind of weird that I've never ever had the teeniest bit of desire to go skydiving or bungee jumping. Ah well. (I have been Rappelling and rock climbing and I've tried to Zip Line on several occasions, but that never worked out.)

Despite all of the daredevilishness, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been genuinely nauseated.

-After gouging out part of my leg on a 30-mile backpacking trip. Shock set in and I puked a few times.

-When I had the flu (BAD) while working on a cruise ship. I was tossed in the brig (infirmary) and shut up in there with out any human contact for five days. I felt pretty pukey then too. Sea+flu= not fun.

-After dislocating my thumb on my most recent Greek sailing adventure. To my surprise, my body was not very appreciative of having one of my limbs displaced and decided to rebel. It took a full hour of sitting on deck, facing the wind, pale-faced, thumb-swollen (being iced) for me to feel not nauseous.

That's it.

-Oh wait, I lied. I was on a medication for a while that made me want to puke all the time. Thank goodness that's over.

I really wonder if I'd get sick sailing across the Pacific in a sailboat. ?

What if it's a sign? The fact that my stomach can handle just about anything? Maybe I'm meant to be living a life at sea?

Curiouser and curiouser.

Can you tell that I'm currently obsessed with sailboats?

You see, these nights, my dreams are about one of two things:

1. Living in Rome. Traveling by train down Capri, shouting things in Italian and making hand gestures, spending weekends at an Italian friend's villa, eating pasta in inordinate amounts, strolling around Villa d'Este Tivoli and waking up in the mornings, greeted by centuries-old architecture and cultura.

2. Living on a Sailboat. Fitting her out for a trans-pacific trip over to Fiji, then onto Indonesia, the Indian coast, Africa, Morocco, Spain. Then maybe I'd sail back the other way again because who wants to ever go back to "reality?" Days spend sanding down the teak decks of my fixer-upper while I prep her for the big trip. Learning everything about rigging and sheets and lines and knots and navigation and fixing engines and bilge pumps. Fitting out my V-berth and my galley and mosquito screens on all of my hatches, and stocking up on sunblock,

& oh-bytheway,
finding someone [Male, LDS, ruggedly handsome, at least 5'9", between the ages of 30-39, no kids, finds me irresistibly adorable and is financially stable enough to contribute his portion to the sailing kitty] to sail around the world with me.
[If you know of anyone who fits the aforementioned description, please make yourself known in the comments.]

I live and breathe these dreams!

For some reason I want to move to Italy by myself, but I don't want to sail around the world by myself. Don't you find that... odd? Funny? Purposeful? Hmmm...

I once read that "A specialist is a person who knows more and more about less and less." I feel these days more and more like letting go (for a little while) of the generalist in me and specializing in something (Or, more realistically, like putting the generalist to work doing something generally specific) - like photography, or writing, or all things Italian, or all things Sailboatish.

What about you? What are you dreaming about these days? How would you fare on a sailboat?
When have you been the most nauseous?

The Magic of a Pizza Stone

2011-10-24T08:01:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get a an idea stuck in my mind.

Yesterday I thought about how I had a jar of perfectly good fresh Mutz (Mozzarella) in brine in my fridge, just sitting there, and I really had no plans to use it. It really ought to be considered a sin to waste fresh Mutz.

Seriously.

So I thought about it... what could I make? Pasta? Not in the mood. Pizza? Yum... but it would have to be good pizza. Like Naples-style, yummy thin chewy crust with basil and fresh Mutz and pepperoni thrown in because I love pepperoni.

And then I thought: Christy Lynn, when have you EVER gotten a home-made pizza to turn out Napoli-style?

Never. That's the answer.

But I was determined that today would be different. So I marched myself down to a store that is a guilty pleasure of mine: Sur La Table. I don't let myself go in there often, but today I was on a mission!

One Pizza Stone later...

I bought this one, by Emile Henry because it's glazed and I can cut on it - which I would end up doing anyway, and ruining an unglazed one. It's also dishwasher safe for those of you lucky ducks with dishwashers.

IMPORTANT: To fully utilize your pizza stone, you should preheat it in your oven at the hottest temperature possible. My oven only goes up to 500F, so I preheated the stone to 500 for 45 minutes, then took the oven temp down to 450 to bake the pizza.

DOUGH: I went down to whole foods to save myself the time and effort of making a good pizza dough (because really good pizza dough must be made the night before and refrigerated overnight, you know). (NB: If you don't have a whole foods 1 block from your house like I do, use this recipe.) It cost $1.30 for a big old hunk of dough. Perfect. I took the portion of the dough I wanted to use today and set it out on a floured counter for 2 hours to let it sit to room temperature.

Had the cheese (+ some grated mutz in the freezer, because I like cheese). Next up: Sauce. What to do?

SAUCE: I whipped some up: Can of plain tomato sauce + can of tomato paste. Lemon Zest (about 1/2 lemon), a ton of Italian seasoning (to taste), 2 tsp of sugar, about a tsp of garlic powder. 1 tsp Garlic salt. Oh and I started it with about 2tsp of olive oil + 1 tsp minced garlic. Let it all simmer and get to tasting good, and set aside. I like my sauce to be a smidge on the sweet side with lots of seasoning flavor! I think it should pack a little bit of punch, after all it's pretty much the only place to sneak in the flavoring on a pizza.

Once your dough is room temp, stretch it into the shape you want and let it rest for up to two hours. (I gave it maybe ten minutes... I was hungry!) You should probably throw some cornmeal on the bottom of it to prevent it sticking to your pizza stone. (I didn't because I hate cornmeal on my pizza crust.)Add your sauce + toppings. I like to put a layer of shredded Mutz on top of the sauce, then add the pepperoni and top that with thin slices of fresh Mutz. Then I sprinkle a tiny bit of Italian Seasoning and Garlic salt over it all + a few shredded leaves of fresh basil.

Bake for about 12 minutes on your preheated pizza stone. You'll hear the dough sizzle when it hits the stone. Pizza is done when crust is a gorgeous golden color and the cheese is bubbly!

YUM.
Don't burn your mouth.
Buon Appetito!

Radom Acts and Cat Naps

2011-10-21T08:01:00.000-07:00

I spent some time with my too-cute-for-words nephew and my awesome Sister today. I love spending time with them. Though I have to admit, Master Q runs circles around both of us. At one point we both lay down in my living room while said too-cute-for-words Nephew ran circles around us, jumped all over us and sneak-attacked us with his blanket. We needed naps, and so did he, but he won't sleep anywhere but his bed or in the car.

So after Sister and I gave up on the idea of a nap, we dragged ourselves out to the car and piled in, headed for the magical kingdom of REI. (Have I told you that I LOOOOOVE that place? Well I do.)

Master Q was asleep before we'd driven the four blocks to the freeway. Out.Like.A.Light. Tounge hanging out of his mouth asleep.

Seriously adorable. See:

I could end the story there, but on the way to the magical kingdom of REI, a car stalled in front of us in a turning lane. It was a double turning lane, so Sister hopped over to go around and we ended up waiting at a Red, next to the stalled car. The man in the stalled car seemed a bit indecisive about what he ought to do. So the wheels in my head start spinning. My sister knows me well. She asked me in a kind of ominous tone: "What are you going to do?" "I'm going to help. Meet me in the Denny's parking lot." So I hopped out of Sister's car and told the man if he would push the car I'd steer it so we could clear the lane. We missed the first light, being too slow. Then I hopped out of the driver's seat to let the man try and start the car again (it's a manual, I don't do manuals). Well, the light turned green again and the man was still sitting in the driver's seat. So I started pushing the car while the guy steered... yah. Not what I'd intended. I'd gotten the car all the way out of the intersection and started up a small hill before a right turn into a parking lot and was running out of steam. Sister was waiting for me in the parking lot and when I passed her, pushing the car she looked at me with a crazy expression on her face. A moment later, two men came running up behind me. "Do you need some help?" they asked as they took over.

"Yeeeeeee-sss" I panted and wheezed. It's hard work running a car across a massive intersection and up a hill thank-you-very-much. "Thank you!" I managed to get out. And then I let them push the car the rest of the way up the hill into the parking lot.

Said Sister: "It was like watching a circus. SO FUNNY. You, this blonde chick, go running by, pushing a car. Then these two men came running up behind you trying to catch up, followed by their cars - a Corvette and a Hummer."

I guess there are some real men left in the world after all, eh? Too bad they weren't in the turning lane with the stalled out car in the first place. (They came from the opposite direction). But I'm happy I could help out.

Guess you just don't know how your day will ever turn out, do you?

Ode to an Unnamed Syndrome

2011-10-19T08:01:00.000-07:00

I'd like to comment a little bit on the state of affairs in the lives of busy human being such as you and I.
I mean, it seems to me that lately I've developed a case of ADD, or OCD, I'm not sure which. The one where you're brain is going in a million different directions and you're working on a million different things at once.

Well, that's actually normal for me. My whole life that's been normal.

What's not normal is that lately it seems to be more in control than normal. As in, I think I've trained myself to need to constantly have something else going on. I can't watch a movie at home, I have to be cooking dinner, writing and doing laundry at the same time. I can't just edit a video at work, I must also be thinking about writing something and either listening to music or watching a tv show on hulu or netflix.

FOCUS, Christy. That's what I think I want to tell myself.

You understand, don't you? Do you suffer from this unnamed syndrome too?

Now, I will proceed to take you on a tour of what I've been thinking about for the last fifteen minutes or so, just to illustrate:

It starts like this:

-Gosh, I'm glad I've finished up this video, now to wait for it to render, recompress it and email it off to waiting hands...

-Rendering is a time-taking thing, so I'll queue up an episode of Man, Woman, Wild on netflix and enjoy.

-I really like those people on that show. I wonder how I'd do at wilderness survival? Pretty well, I think. I've had more experience outdoors than most (though I'm no expert).

Then it continues like this:

-I think the most survival-like situations I've been in were the time I punctured my leg on a log on a 30-mile backpacking trip with nothing around for miles. I worked through the nausea, vomiting and exhaustion, finished the hike and even slept through a bear quasi-mangling my tent. Yup.

-The guy on the Show Man, Woman, Wild sure cracks me up. Him and his machete. Awesome.

-I went camping on the Yellowstone River in Montana once with guy who had a machete. We needed firewood so he shimmied up a tree and chopped a HUGE branch off of the tree (it was a dead limb, probably three feet around) and then proceeded to drag the massive trophy to the fire pit. It was too big (obviously) to all fit in the fire, so he just built the fire under a section of the limb, burnt through it and then kept moving the branch in from the sides. That's how you do things out in the country, I guess. That night we had plenty of fire to fend off the circling, howling coyotes. Good times.

-My video is finished rendering, I should go back to work.

-Machete. :)

But wait! There is a point to all of this, and that point is this:

-I need to learn how to simplify and focus again.

Mixed Bag

2011-10-17T08:01:00.000-07:00

Just what, exactly, should I write about my recent trip to "The Happiest Place on Earth?" I wonder?

-I could tell you about how inordinately, absurdly expensive it is. ($174 for a two-day pass + hotel + meals that cost an average of $15 each, for nothing fancy!) For two days at Disneyland, in total I spent over $500. FOR ME. And I didn't buy a single souvenir. Not even a pair of Mickey ears. (I have a pair from my last trip sitting on my desk at work, collecting dust.) I could have gone and sat on a beach for a week for that much money. If you have kids and you want to take them to Disneyland, I FEAR for your bank account.

-I could talk about the evil genius of the Disney Corporation. About how they created an empire of cartoons, stuffed animals, theme parks and TV programming that generate amazing amounts of revenue for supplying people with things that are completely unnecessary to life... If I ever have children I now am even more inclined to want to raise them on a farm without cable, tv, perhaps internet and especially without any clue about children's television or Disney characters. Extreme? I used to think so... now, not so much.

-Don't get me started on the spoiled, obnoxious, whiny children.

-I could tell you about how I spent over twenty hours standing in line over two days (to ride rides that average possibly two minutes each.)

-You could be dying to know about the changes at Disneyland. It's always changing, you know. And not just the park in General, but the rides that we know and love and grew up with. Disney ruined Pirates of the Caribbean a couple of years ago. Now they've absolutely gutted the glory that was the Haunted Mansion and replaced it with a Nightmare Before Christmas Homage, I mean pile of steaming garbage. Space Mountain has also been "Re-imagined" and it's TERRIBLE. Just what in the world do ghosts have to do with a Space ride? It was the stupidest thing I've ever seen. The coaster is still fun, but the overall cohesiveness of the ride idea has been destroyed. I don't know who these "Re-imagineers" are, but they need to be de-imagineered.

-Pirates of the Caribbean ride is closed. (It's my favorite ride in the park, or was until it was "re-imagined" by a complete moron.)

Or

-You might want to know that I still get a little giddy when I go into the park. I always turn left first. I always go to the Tiki Room first. And it makes me giggle. Like a little girl.

-Indiana Jones is the best ride in the Magic Kingdom. Just sayin'. (Tower of Terror is the best ride in California Adventure.)

-You should know that you have to watch the fireworks show at Disneyland on Main Street. Seriously. I don't even like fireworks (truly) and was SO impressed with that show. The fireworks are set off to a story about Disneyland and you're taken on an audio/fireworks tour of the history of the park. If all fireworks shows were like unto Disney's fireworks show, I might watch them. It was wonderful!

-Did you know there's a canoe ride? I didn't until this trip. It's called the Davy Crockett Canoe Adventure (or something to that effect.) Davy Crockett and Annie were my favorite movies as a kid. Seriously. You get to paddle a canoe around Pirate Island. It has one of the shortest wait times for a ride in the entire park and you get an arm workout. I LOVED IT.

-I love all of the Halloween decor in the park. LOVE it. Which is funny because I really don't care much for Halloween.

And you might be interested to know that in the entire weekend I took precisely one photo and one photo alone. Ready for it. Okay:

Come Fly the Friendly Skies... or Not.

2011-10-14T08:01:00.000-07:00

United Airlines, I've just about had it with you. Despite our 31-year history, I'm ready to call it quits.

I've been flying back and forth between coasts on your jets since infancy. I remember thinking your stewards and stewardesses were some of the funniest, most friendly people I'd ever met as an adolescent. When you rolled out the in-seat entertainment systems, I was around 16 years old and ever-so-grateful. And I was astonished by the in-seat phones as a kid(though I never used them) and loved to play with them during flights after you were so kind to install them. I remember when you used to serve complimentary honey roasted peanuts (The cliche was real!) and pass out free headphones for the movies. There were meals on most flights! And they were included in the price of the flight. (Sorry, that's about what they were worth, too... except when you had McDonald's Happy Meals onboard for us kids for a while... that was kind of awesome.) I was one of those wide-eyed six-year-olds the Stewardesses (yes, they were called Stewardesses then) invited to meet the Captain and tour the cockpit. A few times. I loved my stick-on pilot wings.

Over the past year I've found myself increasingly hesitant to fly you. You started charging for the first checked bag. Then you refuse to offer a free first checked bag to your Mileage Credit Card holders. I can fly Delta with a free first checked bag, thanks to my Delta credit card. Then you introduced the garbage that is Economy Plus and decreased my legroom by half

Then your website became really aggressive, trying verrrrry hard to sell me stupid services I neither want nor care about. I mean, really, you want to charge me $100 bucks for "premier" flight status - the "priviledge" to get on the plane five minutes before anyone else and POSSIBLY go through the faster security line. GIVE ME A BREAK.

Your suckage is really getting on my nerves.

Today I decided to pull the trigger on a fun weekend in LA: meeting up with a friend and heading to Disneyland. I had some United Airlines Miles to use up, so I figured I'd book my flight through you.

I get totally through the mileage booking process and am informed that because my flight is less than 21 days away I have to pay a rush fee for ticketing of $75. SEVENTY FIVE DOLLARS. For a flight that should cost less than $75 were I paying cash for it. It's the principal of the thing...

Let's think about this: The flight is like 55 minutes in the air, tops. It should be seriously cheap. Except these days no one is offering the flight cheaply - It's going for about $150, which is ridiculous to begin with.

Sure, you might say, $75 is still half the going rate for the flight. Yes, I say, it is, which is why eventually, after calling to complain and ask very nicely if the fee can be waived because it's stupid (to a quasi-idiot call center representative somewhere in India who is unhelpful and gives me attitude) I paid the money and got my ticket.

But guess what United, after this flight I'll be canceling my credit card with you and actively avoiding your flights for both personal and business purposes. I'm breaking up with you. And any mileage I might accrue with Star Alliance in faraway places will NOT be spent on your airline.

Sure, you may not care, after all, I haven't flown with you a whole lot over the past couple of years. But even that's entirely your fault.

NB: After booking, I was informed by the friend who would be picking me up at LAX that she wanted me to fly into John Wayne/Orange County instead... bit late there. Oh well. I called United to see if anything could be done about changing the ticket without additional fees. Turns out it wasn't a problem since both airports were in the same metropolitan area. I'm still breaking up with United, but thought it was only fair to point out there was one positive to this flight experience.

PPS: This trip actually happened last week, I scheduled this blog to be published after the trip. You should know this about the flight: After boarding we were de-planed because the plane had no brakes. That's right. No brakes. We swapped planes with a flight bound for Jersey and arrived two hours late. Good one, United.

Be Careful

2011-10-12T08:01:00.000-07:00

A kindly man reached out to take and scan my ticket as I stood, overheated, out of breath and exhausted at the gates of the Parthenon in Athens...

I had only arrived at my hotel an hour prior, direct from the airport, a train and the subway. But instead of sitting down, or laying down in my air conditioned hotel room, I immediately left the room to find some food (it was nearly 3pm and I hadn't eaten all day. Did you know that Santorini's airport is ridiculously small, horrifically organized, lacking *real* security and food items?) and at least find out where the Parthenon was.

So I wandered. I had purposefully picked a hotel in the Plaka district of Athens, the historical district, so I would be close to everything and I was not disappointed. I had barely walked two blocks before stumbling upon my first set of ruins, which were (I think) Hadrian's library. I kept walking, being rather unimpressed with the city in it's entirety. You see, I'm a person who vibes on the overall feel of a place. Istanbul felt old, and saturated with history in a realllllllly cool way. Rome feels smug, lively and oh-so-chalk-full-of-life and love and fun. But Athens... Nothing. Strangely. I was really shocked. For a city originally dating back before my favorite place (Rome), it was surprisingly dull.

So lunch. Greek Salad and Kebab. Sparkling water. Free internet. I was perfectly happy with it. And then, just steps away from the restaurant I found Ancient Greece's Agora. I thought to myself: I'll buy my tickets for the Agora and Parthenon now and come back after I've taken a nap.

Instead I bought my tickets and kept walking...
You see I'd finally found Athens' cool. Right there, in the center of the large metropolitan city, lay the heart of ancient democratic process. I wasn't ready to go home right when things were getting interesting. So I meandered through the large park and listened to the birds chirping, the same type of birds we have at home, chirping their oh-so-familiar sound and came out the other side, at the base of a large hill. The self-same hill the Parthenon happened to be perched upon.

Well, what would you do? Of course, I just kept right on going. Up, up, up through the sets of gates and past the guys selling frosty bottles of cold water (It was a huge mistake to not buy a couple bottles when I could have!) then up to the top of the hill, to the kindly man who took my ticket as I entered the Parthenon complex proper.

"Enjoy. And be careful!" The man said to me with a smile and with concern in his voice.

Be careful? Not generally advice one gleans from a ticket taker? Were there pick-pockets in abundance on the grounds? Were ancient legendary creatures going to pop out and eat me? Be careful. Interesting.

"Thanks." I said and continued to hike up the hill with determination despite being quite parched. (I was certain there would be a place to buy water within the park... I was WRONG.)

Soon enough. Soon enough I understood why I should indeed "Be careful." Perhaps there were pickpockets in abundance, but I never saw one. Instead, I found the complex to be riddled with uneven surfaces, large ancient stone blocks out of place, staircases well worn and jagged. Antiquity, in essence, had vomited it's contents all over the site, making traversing the place quite rough. (Especially when one tends to walk around with a camera strapped to one's face.)

I can't say I spent a lot of time at the Parthenon. I didn't. When I finally got to the top of the hill, I had reached, not only the famous buildings in my Art history books, but also a state of delirious, miserable dehydration. The scorching sun beat down on me, it's rays whips on my back, neck, shoulders. My camera became a lead weight. I couldn't see most things properly. So I resorted to taking as many photos as possible and boogieing the heck outta dodge. Carefully.

Ephesus

2011-10-10T08:01:00.000-07:00

Ephesus is supposedly the world's best preserved ancient city.

But then again, that's what the Jordanians say about Jerash, and I would add Petra into the mix of contenders as well. I'm not quite sure what quantitative data is being used to calculate that claim, so maybe it's accurate on some level.

Despite my doubts about the "best preserved" claim, Ephesus is a gorgeous site. Parts of it's bits have been re-pieced and restored, but most of it is still rubble yet to be unearthed. The scale of the city is massive. In ancient days it stretched from it's present site to current Kusadasi. (11 miles away by car.)

If I may add my two-cents worth in here: I suggest NOT booking a packaged tour to see Ephesus. It's a waste of time. You get only a couple of hours at Ephesus and then they wheel you away to see the supposed house of Mary (after the death of Jesus), the Ephesus museum (bit dissappointing) and a column that was part of one of the seven wonders of the ancient world (the temple of Nike Athena). Except the bus literally pauses to the side of it because it's just a column. Then they actually make you go to a persian rug place and a leather factory and try and sell you rugs and leather jackets... UGH!

I'd recommend staying in the town next to Ephesus (Selcuk? pronounced Sell-chuck) and hiring a local guide when you're there at the "park."

For a less brutal day at Ephesus, start at the "end" and follow the walking route downhill instead of hiking uphill in the BRUTAL heat. Take LOTS of water. If you can, freeze a water bottle the night before and take a block of ice with you.

Walking down to the Library.

The centerpiece of the site is the library and it's stunning. The sheer, ornate detailing in it is worth the trip alone.

There is also a 25,000 seat amphitheater used in Roman times for lion fights and other gory spectacle that is open and accessible for exploration. The acoustics are amazing! My small group of tourmates may have burst into song!

These days, Ephesus is a way off from the sea, but when the city was inhabited anciently it was the largest port city around. As in nearly on the ocean. The port was connected to the sea by a large river that eventually filled in with silt, cutting off access to the ocean by boat. Since then, the waterline has receded naturally around 40km. Crazy!

All in all my Ephesus experience was a bit of a mixed bag. The ancient city is really cool and I would have loved to have spent a full day there instead of being on the (stupid) tour I went on. (The tour was part of the two days/nights I spent in Kusadasi which I loathed!)

(PS: I'm back from my two-week blogging hiatus! What's new in your part of the world?)

You May Have Noticed...

2011-09-29T10:09:00.000-07:00

So I haven't posted for a little over a week. Sorry peeps. I'll probably take next week off too, but check back after that for more travel goodness!!

:)

Love,

Christy

PS: Here is a picture of two dolphins I took from the bow of our boat. Because who doesn't want to see a picture of two dolphins on a Thursday?

Doubt & Renewal

2011-09-20T11:42:00.000-07:00

For two nights I stayed in an abysmal hotel in Kusadasi (pronounced Kush-a-dos-uh). I booked that portion of my trip knowing that it probably wasn’t going to be the highlight of my holiday, but it was a necessary evil to see Ephesus and one other historical site I was interested in. I’m not the type of person to do something or go somewhere un-fun on holiday without a really good reason. So as I sat in my stupid little dusty hotel room with a very nice bathtub, but without any hot water (seriously), not even wanting to venture out to explore the streets around me because the entire town was just so Da*!ed unfriendly, I began to doubt myself.

Why am I here? This is dumb. This town is horrid. If this is what the rest of my vacation is going to be like, I just might *SHOCK*HORROR* hate traveling.

UGH.

I have to say that was the first time I’ve doubted my ability to plan a good holiday. I really began to wonder and worry about it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Ephesus was great and worthwhile. But there was really no need to spend so much bloody time in Kusadasi! Blasted Turkish packaged tour booked through my Istanbul hotel.

So to my great relief, my friendly driver Yusef, from my first day in the region, picked me up from the gross little “Dabaklar-4 Star Otel” (That’s what it calls itself. Not what it really is. Well maybe it was when it opened in 1950...) and took me to the bus depot.

Bus travel in Turkey is fairly comfortable and relatively easy. But those drivers sure are in no hurry to get anyplace. I think in the states the three hour drive could have been done easily in an hour and a half. It took us two hours to go 100km. (62miles) We stopped once for a five minute break somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Turkey and as I hopped out of the bus, a WALL of heat hit me like a Mack truck and a voice in my head said that that little place was what hell felt like. It must have been 120F in the shade. (I’m not exaggerating. I’m sitting now on the coast at 8pm and the temperature is a comfortable 102F.) And in that moment, I really, really felt for the Men and Women of our Armed Forces stuck out in the middle of nowhere, not too far from here. Five minutes later and one more squatter toilet later I dashed back to the air conditioned bus.

Bodrum was beautiful from first glimpse. The bus drove along the coast for nearly 20 km and I caught sight of azure blues from the Meditteranean, gorgeous little white stucco homes and fishing boats. I knew in that moment that I was out of the “funk” and safely back in the proper travel zone.

MYHEAVENSTHISPLACEISGORGEOUS!

I walked from the bus depot 4-5 blocks with my packs to my hotel, Otel Gulec, which is realllllly nothing fancy, but came highly recommded on TripAdvisor. And I was not let down. I’ll take Otel Gulec’s simple, friendly, clean atmosphere over the so-called 4 star previous hotel anyday. No TV here, but plenty of hot water in the shower and a nice big room. And a lovely garden to boot. And not more than 4 blocks from downtown and the beach. And it’s CHEAP. I paid 50 Euro for a night’s stay. Tell me where else you’re going to find a deal like that. Come. Spend a month. You’ll love it!!

I’d come back here and I haven’t even left yet.

Whereas Kusadasi was somber, dusty, unfriendly and stoic, Bodrum is merry, cheerful, clean and fun. Everywhere I walked people would stop me and smile and ask me to take their picture or their child’s photo or a photo with their dog. These people are so friendly that my jaw dropped, and I stared at them, literally. It’s amazing. I wandered down the bouganvilla-lined streets with a huge smile on my face, happily snapping pictures of everything!

And the coast… Oh I’ve told you all before how being on the water is always such a relief to my soul. Today was no different. I dipped my toes into the pleasantly cool Mediteranean and instantly regretted not having on my swimsuit in that moment. But it would have to wait.

You see I leave here first thing tomorrow for Kos, Greece, and I needed to arrange for the ferry ride and see a couple of important historical sites.

1^st necessary historical site: The Mausoleum. The original, that is, as in one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. All Mausoleums are named after that first one. It’s not standing anymore, but you can visit the site where it stood and see some parts of pillars and reconstructed models, etc. 2^nd, The Mydos Gate. This dates back to the 4^th century BC. It was built by King Mausolus to protect the city and today portions of the Gate have been reconstructed. It’s a really cool site to see and look out over the city and the port below. (Photos of sites to come in a later post.)

Did I tell you that in order to access those sites I shlupped myself (on foot) up into the hills at 4pm when it was at least 110 degrees? HOLY COW. I felt as though I needed an IV of water dripping constantly into me just to make up for what I was losing in sweat during the hike. On the way back to my hotel I downed two bottles of water, a sparkling water and a Starbucks Raspberry smoothie thing. (Don’t hate… I’m not a chain food supporter – but sometimes a girl just needs some home comfort/Frozen flavor goodness and raspberry is not a common flavor here. Thanks for taking over the world Starbucks.) I didn’t get to see the cool 14^th century castle in the harbor (the inside), but I watched the sun set over it as I swam in the refreshing ocean next to it.

This trip once again rocks.

Try the Goat

2011-09-16T08:01:00.000-07:00

Allow me to tell you about the tiny Greek Isle of Levita.

Located in the Cycladic islands of Greece, Levita is practically an inkblot on a map. It's nearly uninhabited. I'd place it's population somewhere around, say, 6. That's it. One family lives on the island and they raise Goats. And some Sheep. And I saw a donkey (actually I was almost attacked by said Donkey). This island is a tiny little rocky, thorny paradisical getaway from just about anything and everyone. It's reachable only if you have your own boat. That's right, you can't even catch a ferry to this island. And its practically perfect in every way. And it's got a heavenly little protected bay to anchor in overnight.

The one family that lives on the island runs a tiny taverna that serves (you guessed it) Goat. Goat chops. Goat meatballs. Served up with some mighty tasty fries, tomatoes and cucumbers.

So did I eat Goat the night we anchored little Ekavi in Levita's calm bay? YoubetIdid! And it was REALLY GOOD. Who knew Goat was so tasty? Not I.

Of course it might have had something to do with the fact that I had just finished a three hour scramble across the island to what looked like some ruins on it's far side. (Turns out the ruins weren't quite so ruinous after all. What a let down! Brutal hike. No path. Rocks, thorns everywhere. It's the kind of hike where you have to pay attention every second, or you risk losing a foot.) I was famished. And if you're offered a choice between Goat and *Eh*hem* Goat, you'll eat goat.

Except I think I'd eat it again. But probably not in America. Definitely in Greece. Everything tastes better in Greece. Truly. Well except for pastry. It's decent. But go to France for great pastry. Mmmm. Butter.

But Levita... Get yourself a boat and go. Or don't, actually, because I want to go back there and find it just as secluded and void of humanity as it was a few weeks ago.

The stupid lighthouse/non-ruins I hiked to. Phew!

View from our table at the Taverna. Yummy goat!

We anchored overnight with five other boats. Paradise.

Kalimera Levita!

2011-09-12T08:01:00.000-07:00

I woke up to a bit of sunlight streaming into my cabin from the open overhead hatch. We had anchored overnight in the shelter of The tiny island of Levita's horseshoe shaped harbor. A quick breakfast of Greek yogurt with granola and honey and I made my way all the way aft, and sat with my feet dangling into the water next to the ladder that connected sea to boat. The azure and sapphire shaded water was perfectly calm and the gentle morning sun caressed it, dancing and laughing against its glass surface. The hills surrounding us were a shade of gold. Suddenly over the boat's speakers came the sounds of 80's Madonna: la isla Bonita, cherish, like a prayer. And it was so stunningly, perfectly ambient.

Captain Robin came up from the cockpit and said "Puhfect day, ya?" (Awesome German accent).

The moment froze in time for me: a lush moment of absolute contentment on the water in the Greek isles.

Ya. Puhfect day.

Dislocation

2011-09-09T08:01:00.000-07:00

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes into the sailing trip around Greece that I'd been planning since last December and I almost mucked things up royally! We had just got under way and unfurled the mainsail after leaving Kos Harbor. (By We I refer to myself and my boatmates: Skipper Robin- a super-chill German surfer turned sailor, Carrie- a very fun 35 year old Brit accountant, and Melanie, a 50 something Medical lab scientist. That's right. 3 passengers on an 8 passenger boat. SWEET DEAL.)

So anyhow, we girls hadn't quite yet found our sea legs and were getting knocked about a bit by the boat. I had moved from my seat to make room for Robin to secure some lines when the boat (50 ft Bavaria) suddenly listed hard port. I had already been half step into moving back to the port side bench when it happened and I suddenly found myself thrown forward, hurtling toward the bench. I instinctively reached my hands forward to stop myself smashing into the boat, when my right thumb made contact with the bench, taking the force of the impact.

Pain shot through my hand as somehow I found myself sitting in the bench snugly. When I looked at my hand, what I saw simply didn't register with my brain. Gone was my thumb, replaced with a kinked-up mass of flesh, not unlike something you see at the end of skateboarding videos when they show you all of the gruesome injuries and broken bones. All I could do was to stare at it. It hurt, but it didn't feel broken. But it also didn't make sense that my hand should look that way, so when Robin asked what had happened I held up my hand and said "I've broken my thumb."

He looked at it, the same confusion I'd felt at seeing it momentarily flashing on his face, then said in his Governator-style German accent "nah, I sinkeet ees joost deeslowcated."

I looked at it again, and assessing the pain, agreed with him. "okay. Fix it." I said to him. It needed to be popped back into place. I had just tried to pull it right myself, with no luck. The adrenaline was pumping and I knew I'd be fine if we could get it set and iced immediately. Robin looked at me, doubtful that I could handle the procedure. "ahr yoo shu-ah?"

I nodded adamantly, in pain and lacking the capacity to explain that he didn't need to distract me, and to just get it over with!

He tried to tell me to focus and look at something on the boat, but I just held his gaze and said "gogogo." trying to hurry him along.

With a quick pop, he pushed the lower portion of my thumb back down into it's proper position, un-kinking the extra joint I'd had temporarily. It wasn't any more painful than it had already been. When it was done, I exhaled and said "okay."

Skipper Robin looked at me and said "Wow, tough." the repeated it. "wow, tough" before going downstairs to bring up the water bottle I'd placed in the tiny galley fridge's freezer only 45 minutes prior because I like cold water. It was the only thing we had onboard for an ice pack. But that was soon remedied by ripping up a dishtowel and soaking it in water. The parts were then shoved into the icebox to freeze and make mini-icepacks.

A couple of ibuprofen, ice as available and some great shipmates looking out for me and a couple of hours later, when we anchored in a secluded cove at an uninhabited Greek island, I was out swimming with the rest of my tour peeps. (not quite right as rain, but good enough.)

Now, two days later I've got a stiff and somewhat swollen thumb with massive bruising, which I'm still icing, and also making sure to flex and keep as limber as possible. I've had to relearn the simplest of things - like how to put my hair in a rubber band with my left hand instead of the right, but everything is manageable, and this trip is simply amazing.

How blessed was I? Seriously! Another millimeter to the left or right and my finger would have been gruesomely broken. And the lovely sailing trip would've been over before it began. So. Blessed.

More sailing stories to come. Probably slowly. Typing is rather difficult at the moment.)

(oh and I didn't lose my iPhone after all. It had only fallen under my bed. Phew!!)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

WONOCLOCK!

2011-09-07T08:01:00.000-07:00

Today:

I woke at 7am from the most pleasant dream… I wish I could remember it! My alarm clock commanded my presence in the land of the wakeful, so I woke. Blast. I packed up my things and found the owner of the little Pension I was staying in had arranged a breakfast sandwich for me (standard fare in Turkey for Breakfast – a big hoagie bun with Tomatoes and tangy Turkish cheese) since I was leaving prior to the 8:30am breakfast buffet. Seriously. 8:30 am! Only in Turkey. Okay, probably in the Caribbean too. Anywhere else in the world you’ll find breakfast steaming hot and ready starting around 5am. Boggles the mind. Anyhow, nice of the man to give me a sandwich for the road. I was out the door by 8 and on my way to Bodrum’s ferry port. I believe I chose the hottest, most windlessly stagnant, muggy day in the history of days to shlup all my belongings by foot down to the Ferry port. It was a twenty minute walk and I was absolutely drenched in sweat five minutes in.

Have you ever ridden a Greek or Turkish ferry? It’s an interesting experience. The hotel owner (sandwich man, who, by the way, when I checked in showed up at the front desk wearing swimmers with a bare chest and proceeded to check me in. LAID BACK.) he says to me when I bought the ferry ticket from him “You ‘ave Eight terty be at poort. Nineoclock leeeve.”

Check. 8:30 and I’m still in line at the check-in counter at the port to exchange my voucher for a ticket, along with about 100 other people. By 9:00 I’m in line to get my passport stamped for departure from Turkey. 9:15, I’m onboard. 9:30, we’re still waiting for the rest of the passengers. 9:45, we leave. The ride is only supposed to take twenty minutes and I have no idea if that proved true or not because the next time I looked at my watch it was 10:25 and I had just cleared Greek customs.

"TirtySiven Euro." That’s the price for a taxi to take me from the port to my hotel across the island. Ridiculous. I checked with two other taxis in two other locations. TirtySiven Euro! RIDICULOUS!! That’s like fifty five bucks US! So I shlupped my backpacks through downtown, asking directions for the bus depot on the way. About two miles and two painful shoulders later, it’s 11:00 I make it to the bus depot and ask a driver when the next bus to Kardamena is.

WonOClock! He replied stoicly.

WONOCLOCK!
It was 38 degrees celcius with no breeze.

WONOCLOCK!

The bus depot sat in direct sun, and so did I!

WONOCLOCK!

I wasn’t sure I was going to make it that long without a bathroom due to my run-in with the Sultan’s Revenge. (Food Poisoning). Unable to move again, I just sat in the sun, thinking to myself: 37 Frickin Frackin Bloody Euro!!! (PLUS TIP!) Grrr! Argh! And then I waved at the first taxi driver I saw, who was busy, but awesome enough to call up one of his mates and send him over. Thirty minutes later I’m at my hotel…

And was it worth the trouble?

See for yourself:

A nap and a dip in the ocean and I was right as rain. Followed up with a deee-lish greek-style buffet dinner and I’m good to go. Greek food is amaaaaazing. Just sayin’.

Greek Evening

2011-09-05T08:01:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting under a sky that ranges from deep celadon to azure. Stars are just peeking out from the heavens in the darkest shades. The Mediterranean sounds from below, crash, crash, crash. Gently.

A light breeze blows through the open front door of my little villa on a hill and lands on my shoulders at the other end of the room, past the flung-open French doors leading to the back porch. I can see the last glints of oranges purples and yellows in the sky over the mountain to my right and in front of me, the dark outline of the island Nisyros, an active volcanic island.

It is a perfect evening.

Observances in Turkey

2011-09-02T08:01:00.000-07:00

I have observed two things.

- I hate Turkish breakfast food. It is generally a buffet type deal with the same type of vegetables, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, weird goopy brown stuff in a bowl. Then some kind of breadish thing. The first hotel I stayed in had some decent bread-y type thingers (some delish bread-y cheese thing one morning and *be still my heart!* a turkish version of french toast another morning) but since that first hotel: dissappointment in all bread-stuffs. Yuck. Turkish people do not eat sweet things (apparently) for breakfast. I miss chocolate croissants! Or even cereal! (gag)
Sorry, I didn't nab a photo of the buffets. I was too busy being a picky eater.

-The Turks do not use Top Sheets. Just blankets or duvets or whatever. The hotel I'm currently in just uses a scratchy, rough blanket as a top sheet. I certainly found out how sensitive my skin is from it. I had to break out my sleep sheet (a kind of ultra-thin sleeping bag that weighs about a pound and is super comfy) in order to get any shut eye. Tip: Get a sleep sheet!! I use this one by Cocoon and LOVE it (Just be sure to wash on gentle cycle and air dry):

-The temperature here goes from a pleasant 74 to a scalding 1 million in under three minutes. (Okay, 95 with 99% humidity and a side of ridiculously uncomfortable. Seriously. I love summer on the east coast, this is an entirely different animal.) I painstakingly hand washed, rinsed and wrung out six days worth of sweaty clothing (Travelers here live in a perpetual state of dampness. While the locals are perfectly dry. Amazing.) Then I laid every towel in the room on top of the dusty patio furniture on my balcony and proceeded to cover every inch of that furniture with wet clothing. Every hour or so I would go and turn the clothes around or over so they would dry faster/thoroughly. But by then it was dark out and the temperature was a coolish 74 degrees, and so it remained the night through. By morning I went to check on the clothing. It was still somewhat damp, which was unexpected. I mean, I'm in freaking Turkey in the summer! About 30 minutes after I checked it, the sun came streaming onto the balcony and it was immediately over 90 degrees! 15 minutes later: Ding! Dry as a Matzoh cracker in the desert.

Apparently...

2011-08-29T08:01:00.001-07:00

The world is falling to bits around me. I left the US of A on a bright afternoon not so long ago, just after a couple of days of rioting in London Towne. Since then, there has been an earthquake in DC, two in Northern California and now a Tornado is spinning out of control toward North Carolina and Manhattan!

Good grief, people. I leave for a few weeks and it all goes to the dogs. I wonder what I'll come home to?

Disasters on my front:

-I was blessed with a bout of "The Sultan's Revenge" a few days ago in Turkey. I was never a huge fan of Turkish food. Now moreso. So happy to be in Greece! It's amazing what wonders a twenty minute ferry ride can do for the culinary situation.

-I MAY have lost my beloved iPhone today. Stay tuned.

Fave Photo Friday

2011-08-26T08:01:00.000-07:00

I've taken a zillion photos already and have just barely begun to import/edit them... a task that I probably won't finish until long after I'm home. But for now, here are a few of my finished faves from Istanbul:

It's a small world, after all

2011-08-24T08:01:00.000-07:00

You never know who you'll meet while traveling. That's the fun of it. Today was a cornicopia of great people.

I began the morning with a trip to the grand bazaar. It certainly was grand. I got good and lost in it and walked round in circles until I found my way out again without spending a single Turkish Lira. Can you believe it? (I hate shopping and loathe haggling)

From the baazar to the suburb emanonou (the ferry port), where I boarded a boat and sailed away on the Bosphorous all the way to the black sea. At the mouth of the black sea, the ladies I'd been sitting next to, two turkish women, sisters around the age of 50, enjoying a day out together, motioned for me to get off the boat and go and see the castle on the top of the hill. So I did. Only the Yoros Kalesi was closed for "archaeological excavation." right. It looked as though it had been closed for years and that wasn't going to change anytime soon. But no one bothered to tell us that as the tourists slagged up a huge hill, walking through a complex of restaurants and shops, which housed the "short way to castle." right.

It was all good fun though, with great views, and I met a great couple from San Diego, both teachers living in Abu Dhabi, teaching there. They came over to istanbul on holiday. Apparently in Abu dhabi the salaries for teachers are the same as in the US, only they pay no taxes and their housing is paid for, so they come out ahead. Not bad!

On the way down the hill from the castle I found a great old graveyard. It was really interesting - a few of the graves had both headstones and footstones. And the oldest grave markers were all engraved in Turkish or Arabic, but the newer headstones were done in English.

When I started back for the ferry port, I heard a loud voice behind me speaking American english, talking about BYU. Wha?

I turned and asked "Are you guys LDS?"

They were. We all walked back to the port together, talking about travels. It was a young married couple and their 16 month old and one set of their parents. The young couple Had just graduated law school (both had) and were taking two months to travel Europe before starting jobs in NYC. Pretty cool.

Now I'm waiting at the port for the return ferry. An open-air restaurant behind me is playing a cd of knocked-off pop songs done over in Turkish. It was all pretty mellow until Gangsta's Paradise came on. It's just not the same in Turkish.

View of the Black Sea

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Topsy Turvy

2011-08-22T08:01:00.000-07:00

Where to begin?

Istanbul is not at all what I'd expected. Which is funny, because I really didn't have any concrete expectations. But this city doesn't even conform to any loose expectations I may or may not have had.

Having traveled to Jordan and Egypt last year, I thought Istanbul would be similar, maybe? Similar in the beautiful, but rigid and strict Muslim approach to life. But it's not. The people in general are seriously laid back, friendly and helpful. The culture is very traditional, but also very accepting/tolerant/liberal. If you want to ease yourself into "middle eastern" travel, Turkey is a great place to start, then work your way further East.

Right now is Ramadan, which is a Muslim event that lasts a month. A holy month, if you will. This city is packed. To the gills. I hadn't expected that! Good thing I made my booking so far out.

Ramadan seems to have turned everyone's life around here topsy turvy. In a normal kind of once-a-year way if you're Muslim.

During Ramadan, Muslim observers eat a morning meal around 5am. Then they fast until sunset/evening call to prayer (8pm) and then they stuff their faces. So apparently this has morphed into a hibernative daytime regime for those observing the holy month. Most of the people here for Ramadan are not out and about during the day. They stay inside. Then, around sunset, the parks fill up, the spaces in front of the mosques are all taken by families who have brought blankets and sit on the ground and wait for the evening prayer. Then they eat. Then they are awake. ALL NIGHT. Which is why when I arrived late last night (1am) the streets were nearly impossible to navigate a car around in (and I had a local driver).

Amazing.

Both photos taken around 7:30am. Everyone is still in bed!

Stopover

2011-08-20T20:23:00.001-07:00

London.

After a sleepless night in JFK I boarded my second flight of the journey bound for London. Though the entire journey will take nearly three days, in the middle of it, I feel much less jetlagged than normal after arriving in London. I blame it entirely on this:

Lovely, down-covered piece of heaven adjacent to the airport. The heathrow Hilton. I booked a screaming deal with them a few months back that included breakfast. It was the best decision ever, or nearly just. The desk attendants gave me a very late check out time of 3pm, and I didn't waste any of that time! I curled up in the perfect bed at 11:30pm and thanks to the down pillows, sound proof walls (the hotel is just off the airport. Never heard a single plane) and leather-lined blackout curtains I didn't come back to life until 11am. I did a double-take when I saw the clock! Heavenly sleep!

I did miss breakfast though.

So I grabbed a quick almond croissant (being so late they were out of chocolate) and then went to the gym for a great workout.

People should bathe after goin to the gym. Just saying, because the man on the treadmill next to me smelled as if he'd skipped his monthly bath last month. Yuck!

The English have astonishing baths. Bathtubs. I don't know what's wrong with Americans that they can't design a decent bath, but there it is. I want to transplant the bath from my hilton room back home. It's deep and long enough to stretch out and read a good book in. I loved it so much I took two baths (yes, one after the gym).

3pm came much to quickly and I zipped back to LHR terminal five, which is a universe of sensory overload! Aside from the simple shift of being outside of the US (driving on the wrong side of the road. Doors and toilets, spoons and the like all shaped slightly differently) terminal five is a corporate marketing dream come true. It's a bit diZzying really. Everywhere you look are stores and loud music, flat screen TVs advertising the latest perfumes and clothing.... I really wanted a pair of sound proof earphones to drown out the noise!
It's not like american airports at all. More like a hyped up shopping mall.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

No sleep till Brooklyn

2011-08-19T02:28:00.001-07:00

I've begun my epic journey! Only to be waylaid in Pittsburgh by bad weather over NYC. Luckily it only took 2 hours to refuel and hop over to New York, where the weather had cleared. Also luckily, I knew I would have quite a long layover before continuing to London.

So although we were in the terminal at 2am, I was in no hurry to go anywhere. I walked around and stretched, then, feeling exhaustion set in, I spread out an airline blanket (that somehow conveniently found it's way into my bag) on the ground in the empty JFK terminal 8, set up my travel pillow, donned my socks, pulled on my eye mask and plugged in my earplugs. Then I proceeded to freeze and be ridiculously uncomfortable on the hard ground. Throw in some leg spasms and I was soon up and, once again, walking the concourse.

Just for fun I left and rode the courtesy bus around the airport, which killed a good half hour. Now here it is, 530, and I've still got at least an hour and a half before my next flight boards.

Things to report:

-I am too old to sleep on airport floors.

-terminal 7 at JFK is gross, and badly organized.

-the new terminal 2 at SFO is reallllly nice.

-there is a pinkberry frozen yogurt in SFO terminal 2.

-I used to think all the hype about pinkberry was stupid, having never tried it.

-I tried it. Now I get it. Pinkberry is legit. For real.

Am I in London yet?

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Looking at the world from a park bench

2011-08-17T08:01:00.000-07:00

Saturday I packed a sandwich in my camelback and set off into the hills in the heat of the day. Eventually I found a bench in the shade of a gnarled old oak tree and sat and ate my turkey and Brie on ciabatta. The I lay on the bench awhile, observing the leaves on the tree, it's knotted branches and the blue sky above, while the sunlight played games with the tree above me. I looked out between the park bench slats and was quiet. And the world around me came to life. The groundhogs came out of their holes, the woodpeckers knocked on trees, and in the distance I could even hear the cry of a peacock. (?!)

The world is a lovely place full of surprises.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

People Just Liked it Better That Way...

2011-08-15T08:01:00.000-07:00

I sat lazily outside in the backyard of some of my favorite friends last Sunday, chatting and enjoying the afternoon.

My childhood friends. All growed up.

At one point in the afternoon, a girl several years younger than our circle of friends sat next to me and joined the light conversation. Unbeknownst to her, she really had no chance at breaking into the group, but was blissfully unaware (in that happy, teenage naive way) that she had intruded. It wasn't that she wasn't welcome to sit with us; more that we all would have rather been left to sit and reminisce without the burden of having to explain ourselves and our past antics to such a newcomer/temporary fixture. So I made polite conversation with her while the rest of the friends were a little more silent than they would have been were it just "the group."

The conversation went somewhat abridgedly like this:

Her:Where do you work/what do you do/oh really/that sounds cool/

Me: you're a recent finance grad/no I don't know of any job openings at my company/yes I travel a lot/yes I'm going on a trip quite soon/Istanbul/

Then from my left came a sly statement: "Not Constantinople."

I laughed. The girl to my right, remember she is several years younger, said "Huh?"

"Istanbul used to be called Constantinople in the time of the Romans." I explained.

"Oh!" Came the over exuberant and jovial reply from my right, while from my left we heard "Now it's Istanbul."

"Not Constantinople." I returned, snickering silently at the inside joke.

Again from the left: "Why they changed it, I can't say."

To the right: ... (A look of questioning; beginning to understand she was clearly missing something)

Me: "People just liked it better that way." I shrugged and laughed with my co-conspirator on the left.

Ah the days of high school and They Might Be Giants...

But seriously, something is wrong if someone only five years younger than me has never heard that song.

Testing

2011-08-12T20:24:00.001-07:00

This is a test. This is only a test. This is a test of my iPhone blogging system. (I'm trying new things... Mobile blogging for while I'm on the road... Kinda cool huh?)

Reward for suffering through my experiment:
Photo of cute Nephew, who is at the happiest place on earth this weekend.

Doesn't that photo just scream ad campaign????

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

6

2011-08-12T08:01:00.000-07:00

Today is the last Friday remaining Friday before I leave for Istanbul.

This trip is been soooooooooooo ridiculously long in the making that I feel I've grown roots and a shell. I've become a garden turtle, all huddled into my little life so deeply that I've forgotten how it feels to move about unencumbered by such bothersome things as a job or bills or a bedtime.

Photo From: http://www.google.com/imgres?q=photo+%2B+stuck+turtle&hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&biw=1178&bih=1003&tbm=isch&tbnid=RROfDVIMxwtOGM:&imgrefurl=http://www.wildherps.com/species/K.baurii.html&docid=RXqjFQ48aqeD9M&w=600&h=400&ei=y7FCToaeDMaAsgLc993GCQ&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=482&page=8&tbnh=154&tbnw=204&start=163&ndsp=25&ved=1t:429,r:13,s:163&tx=91&ty=86

Last night, as I wrote out my rent check for September and set up automatic bill pay for my normal bills - student loan, credit card (I put everything on a mileage credit card! Free flights!), internet... I reflected on the necessity of it all, on the necessity of taking care of those things now so when I returned to my "normal" life I wouldn't be overwhelmed by unpaid bills and looming creditors, because I'm a responsible person. Even when I travel. And I thought to myself:

OHMYGOSHICANNOTWAITTOGETOUTOFHEREANDNOTDOTHIS!!!!!!!

In 6 days I leave for Istanbul. And right now it's such an intangible, impossibility, being the rooted garden turtle that I am, that I cannot even fathom it. I can't picture the place in my mind's eye like I normally do, or daydream of things to do and see and smell and touch and taste... I only know that there will be those things.

That is enough for now, I suppose.

But I can't wait to awaken, to crawl out of my shell into the vast world around me, stretch deeply, yawn and greet the traveler within that has been so long dormant.

Or in the very least, metamorphosis into a sea turtle.

Photo from: http://www.uimages.org/turtle-full-front-adult/

Welcome back, self.
In six days.

Liberation

2011-08-10T08:01:00.000-07:00

Just before I turned 17 my parents decided to up and move our family from Northern California to Northern Idaho.

Yah. It was pretty major.

It meant we would go from being Californians to Idahoans. And nothing against Idaho, or Idahoans, I am many things, but I am NOT an Idahoan.

It also meant that I would spend my Senior year of High School in Idaho instead of with the people I'd grown up with in Cali.

I was not a happy camper (as you can imagine).

But some good things happened as a result of the move, I will grudgingly admit.

The good things began with one, small event that I thought very little of at the time, but now that I reflect on it, it was slightly important.

When my family went up to Idaho look for houses, I point blank refused to go with them. (I think I hoped my protest would somehow stop the insanity and we could stay in California.) So my Mom bought plane tickets for the rest of the family to fly up and I planned to stay home.

Eventually I came around (figured out there was no way out of the move) and decided I would be better off having a say in where we lived in the frozen North. So Mom bought me a plane ticket, only the flight the family was on was sold out, so I was booked onto a separate flight. And what's more, my flight departed from SFO (San Francisco) and my family was flying out of OAK (Oakland -- about twenty minutes from SFO).

I had flown tons of times before and even with my younger sibs as unaccompanied minors (you know, where kids are checked in with the airline and given an escort), but I had never flown solo.

But with all of the stress of the move, I don't think I even realized that I was about to venture into the unknown. I knew how to check in, clear security, find my gate, board... I was already a seasoned veteran of flying by the age of 16, so when my parents pulled the car up to the drop-off zone outside of the SFO terminal, I said a brisk goodbye (still being ticked off at the move and all), jumped out of the car and met up with my parents three hours later at GEG (Spokane airport). No biggie.

When I got there my Mom was CLEARLY relieved. Apparently after I got out of the car and they drove away she freaked out (and this was pre-cell phone, well, at least pre-days-when-cell-phones-are-as-common-as-tic tacs and every kid in the country has one).

As Mom tells it:

"We were driving away and I realized that I'd just dropped my SIXTEEN year old daughter off on the curb in San Francisco!!!!"

And I thought: "Meh. No biggie."

And it really wasn't.

But it was. It was an affirmation that I was a competent, independent human being. & It was a taste of the freedom that would come... eventually.

What was your first solo travel experience like?

Photo from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jvnunag/2971390494/

Dry

2011-08-08T08:01:00.000-07:00

I love water.

But not everyone, or everything loves water. For instance, my Laptop does not love water. My new laptop. The one I got in December that is ultra sleek, ultra compact and travel-perfect.

{I didn't tell you about this before, even though it was pretty major. I may have been terribly embarrassed and frustrated with myself.}

Only three months after purchasing said perfection-in-a-laptop I happened to have removed the silicon keyboard cover from it's keyboard, the one designed to protect it's larger, bulkier predecessor from water and liquid spills. You see it fit over the keyboard just fine. But it was too thick and prevented the ultra-thin new laptop from closing properly. So I removed it, knowing that I needed to replace it; being paranoid about such things as I had a friend in college who ruined her brand-new MacBook Pro by spilling a beverage on it... Oh the sick irony!

So... yah... Story short: Hand knocked over glass of water. Water spills on corner of keyboard. Poof. Black screen. Computer dead. Done. Three days, $800 later (Which is just over half the original cost of the laptop, BTW) I have a repaired MacBookAir back from Apple. I turn it on and... Chime! The hard drive has been replaced and I get a WELCOME! (to your brand new mac) screen, telling me that none of my data, applications, etc had been recovered. (Which really could have been worse... I had all the apps backed up and most of the data.)

NOW I have the proper keyboard cover that allows the laptop to close. NOW I have a soft case to protect the tiny laptop from abuse.

And NOW, as of tonight, I have a DryBag large, thin enough and flexible enough to house the laptop (and a few extra items if needed) for travel out and about on a boat. In the ocean. Which is as wet as wet gets. Which my laptop will not be, thankyouverymuch.

What kind of electronics protection do you travel with?

Mountains of Tissue

2011-08-05T09:39:00.000-07:00

Heaps of Kleenex, piles of blankets, nyquil, sudafed and some other prescription decongenstant...

This week has been chalk-full of fun. (!)

Summer colds suck.

What was your worst "sick" experience? You know, the time you got sick when _____ was happening and you missed it and it ruined (!) your life? Tell me all about it!

*Sniff*Cough*

Rodents

2011-08-03T08:01:00.000-07:00

I have a problem.

I like to garden. It's in my roots.

You know this.

You know this despite the fact that I never posted any photos from this year's garden: ie, the "before/newly planted/thriving" photos that I've done for the past couple of years.

Well I planted a garden this year despite ignoring the photos. (i did take the photos, mind you.)

This year I added a whole extra terrace to my garden. It has been my master plan all along to spread out the garden year by year. Well. I did it. And then I planned it all wrong and didn't buy enough plants for my expanded space. I should have bought double the amount of tomato plants. Maybe triple. Then I could have canned them all later, like a real farm girl. (uh, i might not have canned them...i might have just given them away... jury's out.) Well, that was the start of the mayhem. Too much space, not enough plants. Whatever. I wasn't really bothered by it. So along I went, feeding, watering, weeding my garden. March, April, May, several setbacks with deer eating all the tallish stalks off the tomato plants... June... more deer problems...

Despite the pesky deer, in June, I ought to have started getting some Tomatoes. And Squash. And Zucchini. (since i planted those too.)

Except the weather decided not to cooperate and gave us an extended winter with bouts of sunshine thrown in to tease us. July... I finally spied one ripe little tomato and several ripening ones! Yippee! A few days later I went to pick the tomatoes that surely should have been ready for a-pickin'... BUT THEY WERE GONE. Not only were the ripe ones gone, but also any quasi-ripe ones, and several just-plain-green ones.

My blood ran cold in my veins as I glowered at the barren spots on my carefully tended garden. BLARGH! Then I saw the discarded fruits strewn across my yard with only nibbles taken out of them...

The bastard Racoons were back! I'd been hearing them in my fig tree for weeks, but hadn't thought they'd go for the tomatoes, after all they'd mostly left them alone last summer. I was wrong.

Those little Rat Finks have cleaned me out this summer. Every time a tomato begins to grow to decent size, they get snatched! I've tried the repellant sprays. (In fact, tonight I got a new one that's like pepper spray for rodents. I sprayed it all around the plants and hopefully it keeps them away!!!)

The point of this story is this:

1. I don't have any bloody tomatoes this summer despite my best efforts.

2. I hate Racoons. HATE. Loathe. They are disgusting vermin. They're smart and will get even with you if you try to scare them away. Trust me. I now understand why Farmers shoot them. If I had a shotgun, I would shoot them dead and dump their bodies in a dumpster. (Too bad it's illegal in CA to shoot them... freaking hippies!)

3. UGH!

Otherly

2011-08-01T08:01:00.000-07:00

I sometimes dream of my other lives...

Not in an existential way, or a reincarnation way, but in a these are lives I'm preparing now to have later kind of way...

You know:

-The life in which I am a quasi-farmer in Virginia, living on my family's land, planting my own garden that is bigger than your backyard. And canning the fruits (and vegetables) of those labors. Smelling the sweet grass and feeling the delicious summer humidity press down on my skin. Building my own little house and watching babies grow and run around the huge yard (perhaps my own, perhaps other people's... ?) and discover the big, beautiful world around them daily.

-The life in which I live on the beach (or in a cottage by the beach) in Florida. Daily I walk barefoot most places, because most places I want to be involve sandy expanses. Tall, perspiring glasses of ice water and iced fizzy lemonade greet me, and I search for shells along the the ocean's border with my loved ones. Again, somewhere there are babies and chillun' involved, again, perhaps mine, perhaps not... ? We all bask in the sun and saltwater and relish this glowing life of slow-paced-ness. Dolphins frolic in the water before us, stingrays, sharks and birds dot the beautiful blue, azure and white horizon.

-The life in which I live in Rome. Not far from Piazza Navona, in proximity to the Pantheon, my favorite building in Rome. My apartment lies down an ancient, winding street, in one of the buildings crept up it's edges. Italian Mamas shout at their babies and lovers embrace, a heated discussion explodes to the right and the hum of the crowds of tourists to the left as I lean out my window and look to out to the street below. Flowers line planters and creeping vines rim the building's stones. In front of me, my laundry flaps in the open air, suspended above a street just narrow enough for a Vespa scooter, drying and simultaneously getting dirty again with city grime; but it is Roman grime, so I don't mind. My neighbors call out to me in greeting and Angelo, down the way a bit whistles his usual flirty greeting, then winks at me and I think to myself (again) Che Peccato! What a shame! What a shame he isn't LDS, that one! ;)

In the afternoons I peruse the markets for fresh produce and the perfect olio d'oliva, olive oil and call for 3 inches of a fresh panini sandwich, sliced off a hot stone at my request. I wander the streets in search of a new, old discovery, a relic of a building or a landmark of a statue that had been in the same spot all along, yet I'd only just seen it. In the evenings I sit with my Italian friends in the piazza private to a friend's building and eat the most delicious pasta d'amatriciana on the planet, freshly prepared by us. The mornings are a mixture of writing and bathrobes and narcolepsy and an ancient apartment with a leaky faucet and a large old bathtub. Great wooden beams line the lofted ceiling and cornices, edgings and other detail work line the walls and talk jovially to me about previous occupants who have loved this place.

--

These are the lives I think of and reflect on, the ones I am working for. Because I'm a gypsy and a dreamer.

Yet, here I am, in California, happy as a clam with my hiking and my Sister and my Nephew... Make sure life is good, whichever one you decide to live!

Ode to Girl's Night In

2011-07-29T08:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Friday,

Every week you arrive, replete with bells and whistles and end-of-workday excitement. I love that. Keep on keepin' on. Just do what you do. And I'll keep loving it.

THIS very friday I have fun plans. Tonight, my leetle seester is coming over, sans (most adorable) nephew and hubby (she thinks he's adorable, me - not so much, but he's cool). We have big plans for our GNI - Girl's Night In. It all begins with a quick stop in the Downtown Walnut Creek shopping district at Buckhorn Grill for some yummy tri-tip stuffs, then over to Cheesecake Factory for our favorite slices of cheesecake heaven (mine's Godiva Chocolate, sisters is either the Latte or the PB, depending on the night) then off to mi casa for a marathon of Austen-tatiousness!

Heaven. (Queue Choirs of heavenly music!)

What's your favorite GNI consist of ?

Shell Ridge

2011-07-27T08:01:00.000-07:00

Walnut Creek! Oh, Walnut Creek! If ever there was a perfect little Northern California town, you are it. You are the Corona Del Mar of the North!

I love living here. It's as fabulous as beach-less living can be.*

Let me tell you why, at the risk of sounding like a snob:

-The weather here is generally great. When people think of the San Francisco bay area they think overcastish and cool. Not the WC. The microclimate here gives us great, hot, sunny summers and cool winters.

-It's kinda yuppie. Upscale shopping is the name of the game in downtown Walnut Creek: Neiman Marcus, Nordies, Chanel, Burberry, Juicy... Blah, blah, blah. I'm not a shopper and personally think those places are ridiculous. But I do like the atmosphere of downtown. It's lush and breezy and laid back and posh. It feeeeeeeels beautiful, dahling.

(I must interject here, or at some point, that I grew up in Vallejo, do you remember me telling you that before? Va-lle-jo. The most recent alumus to the world's collection [of two] bankrupt cities. Growing up, my Mom brought me to Walnut Creek every so often for a girl's day out. We'd shop, and go out for lunch and do girly things in this lush environment. Walnut Creek was the luxury destination. Now I live here. Which wasn't planned, or even wished for, it just kinda happened, and I LOVE it!)

-MOSTLY, in this lists of things that I love about the WC, I love the hiking. I love the open spaces and the sheer acreage of open space and nature that surrounds me. There are miles of bike and running trails, places I can go for a stroll, parks that rim the creek (of Walnut Creek) and even Mt. Diablo.

So, the inspiration behind this entire post is the newest Open Space I've fallen in love with here in the WC: Shell Ridge. It's wonderful! And what's more, I've found that it actually connects, through miles and miles of trails to two other Open Spaces that I really enjoy in this area. I like this place so much that I hiked here Friday for an hour, then came back Saturday evening and hiked for two more hours, exploring trails and finding more to explore. I pretty much loved it.

So Walnut Creek: Don't change. You're gorgeous.

(*excepting of course were I to be living in Rome)

Book Five

2011-07-25T08:01:00.000-07:00

As promised, here is the story about Harry Potter book 5 & me.

As you know, I breezed through books 1-4 the Christmas prior to June of 2003. I was so VERY excited for the fifth book to be released. But much to my dismay, when summer came around I was slated to join the MS Veendam in Alaska for a two week contract as a youth counselor, followed by a flight to Florida to join the MS Zuiderdam for eight weeks in the Caribbean. The book was to be released the day after I joined the Ryndam. I knew I'd be able to pick it up in the airport on my way to Florida, but like any good Veruca Salt impressionist and victim of mass marketing, I wanted it NOOOOOOOW! Ah well, my excitement would have to wait. No way around it.

When I boarded the Veen I was absolutely delighted to find not one, but TWO of my favorite Cruise Staff fellas. Dale (who also happens to be one of my favorite humans on the planet) and Luke (Cruise DJ and Man-whore extraordinaire). They joined the same day I did and it was SO fun to see them again. We were all assigned cabins right next door to each other (Crew areas on ships are divided into halls according to job. It gives the residents a better chance at a good night's sleep/quiet hall because they all share similar shifts, hopefully.) Lucky for me, the guys were in the habit of leaving a key in their door. I say lucky because two things happened:

1. Knowing better, but stupidly believing people when they said that Alaska was quite warm in the summer, I packed for the Caribbean because I didn't have room in my luggage to pack for both the Caribbean and Alaska (and I wouldn't be going home between the two destinations to re-pack). The weeks I spent in AK were the last two of the season (For all cruise ships- they would thereafter reposition to warmer posts) and many of the ports were foggy, overcast, drizzly and, yup, you guessed it: COLD!!

Well, the guys were on the Veen for a six month assignment, so they had packed for colder weather (I think the Veendam was repositioning to Baja/South America after Alaska... so they were prepped for all kinds of weather) and I may have helped myself to Luke's clothes, he being the taller of the two and me liking loose-fitting clothing. (Besides, this wasn't the first time I'd worn his clothes and I knew they fit... nothing skanky happened! I promise! Read all about it here: http://cmewander.blogspot.com/2011/04/nat-fat-rat-and-travel-nightmares.html )

It all happened quite by accident at first - I was freezing, the guys weren't home, so I borrowed a sweatshirt. I washed it and returned it the next day and borrowed another - that's when Luke caught me. "Are you wearing my sweatshirt?" he asked, surprised. I batted my eyes at him and explained that I was freezing and could I prettttttty please borrow it?

He shrugged, smiled and said (like the man-whore he is) "Sure, but you know this means we're sleeping together!" I just laughed, smooched him on the cheek and left. (He knew I was [am] Mormon and there was NO way that was happening.)

---

2. When I returned the second sweatshirt I noticed something interesting sitting on the shelf in Luke's wardrobe. HARRY freaking POTTER, book 5. Yah. I don't know how he obtained the copy of that book. We'd been at sea since boarding the ship and the day the book was released was one of those sea days... I was both perplexed and thrilled!! After thinking about it for a minute, I realized I shouldn't have been surprised that Luke had managed to sweet talk his way into getting a copy of the book early. The man was a born flirt and could charm the scales off a snake.

I may have taken two items from Luke's wardrobe that evening. Can you guess what they were?

For the most part, Luke and I had different work schedules, but sometimes our free time overlapped. Luke was very quick to come-a-knocking at my door looking for that book. *Bang*Bang*Bang* "Christy where's my book??"

My response: "Five more minutes, Ma!"

Of course I gave him the book when he asked for it. But we definitely competed to see who could finish it the fastest. It really irked him that I was a very fast reader.

Sadly, I was only about halfway through the book when I left the Veendam. But I was able to pick up my very own copy (and finish it) before joining the MS Zuiderdam (I had an overnight in Florida).

--

So there you have it: My adventures in Alaska with my man-whore friend Luke, stealing his clothes and his book and having a ridiculously fun time.

The book was good too.

--

I was looking through my photos for a good Alaska pic and realized that I didn't take a single photo during that contract. Not one. I wasn't heavily into photography at that point and didn't have a digital camera of any kind, so there you have it. No Alaska. Besides, I think it looked too much like the Northwest (where my parents live) and I wasn't overly impressed by any of it. Don't hate.

Faraway Fantasy Friday: Meteora

2011-07-22T09:08:00.000-07:00

I remember watching the TV series Young Indiana Jones as a kid and falling so in love with the adventure of it all! Each episode took young Indy to a faraway, exotic location. During one episode, Indy and his Dad visited a monastery in Greece called Meteora. It is perched high above the valley floor on a bunch of high-rising cliffs.

During childhood I wondered how on earth the movies had made such a cool looking place. But just a little while ago, I discovered that it's real!

It sits high above a little town called Kalambaka, balanced across 24 natural stone pillars. Speculation begins construction on the buildings around the 9th century. The Monasteries are a long, 4-hour drive on windy roads from Athens, and well worth the effort.

Check them out:

(Photos from Wikipedia & Lonely Planet)

HP 7.2

2011-07-20T08:01:00.000-07:00

Have I written a movie review on this blog ever before? I don't think so... I may be wrong, but I really don't think so.

Well.

I had the chance to go and see Harry Potter 7.2 this weekend. And I was SO impressed. It was the first time in a verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry long time that a movie has:

1. Lived up to the "hype"
2. Probably exceeded the "hype"
3. Been pretty much perfect.

Truly. it was perfectly paced, beautifully crafted and such a triumph!

I've been a Harry Potter fan since just before the fifth book was released. That said, I've never been a rabid HP fan. But I've really enjoyed reading all of the books and watching some of the movies (In my opinion they aren't really worth watching until about halfway through the fifth movie).

It all started for me at Christmas time back in 2002. I was up in Northern Idaho with my family. And I was bored. Dreadfully bored. I just don't like Idaho. And it was cold, snowy and gross outside. Blech. So, boredom. Luckily I'm an avid reader and my Mom had the first couple of HP books laying around. So I got over my "I'm not going to read those just because everyone is sooooo nuts about them" snobbery and jumped in to the fabulous world of Muggles and Wizards and Diagon Alley, etc.

And you know how the story ends. I was hooked. Positively hooked. I read the first book that afternoon. The second the following day. I then scrounged up books three and four for days three and four. And then I had to wait until June for book five to be released, which was sheer torture!! But reading book five is an entirely different and awesome story. I think I'll write a separate blog post about it...

Anyhoo, go and see Harry Potter 7.2. But be forewarned, there is no "catch up," no explanation - you are thrown straightway into the story where it left off. So if you haven't read the books, shame on you! But if you feel the need to watch the last movie, please for the love of your own sanity watch movies 5, 6 and 7 before you do.

Nephew Qtness Update

2011-07-19T21:51:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged about my adorable Nephew, Q, in a while. And while I'm not a mommy, or a mommy blogger, I'm a super-proud auntie!

He's almost 17 months old now! Can you believe it??

Here's the rundown:
-He's already starting to have iron-willed independent bouts, and asserts his will at times by screaming. It would be cute if it wasn't so ear-piercing! :)

-He's super curious about everything!

-If you do something, like turn on a faucet, or the hose, or open something in front of him, he'll figure out how to do it and try to repeat the action. It doesn't always work out for him - he just isn't strong enough yet to do everything, but sheesh that kid is a smart cookie! When my sister and bro-in-law brought home a new car about a months ago, I sat Q in the driver's seat and he proceeded to sit on the edge of the seat, try to steer the car, shift the gears, open the windows and fiddle with the stereo. He watches EVERYTHING us adults do!

-He loves to play in water, but not in pools! He's a big scaredy chicken in a swimming pool!

-He copies my sister's mannerisms perfectly. She used to say "Ooh!" to show him something excited, and so he used to get excited about things and say "Oooh!" (it was really cute to watch his little mouth make the O), now he's graduated to a "Huh!" (Sucking in breath in surprise!) just like his mom is doing these days.

-He has a vocabulary, but likes to speak gibberish instead of using it. He chit chats all day long, saying very loud, very emphatic, very important things in some foreign language. The other day we determined he was speaking German. Then a few minutes later it was French. Maybe it's Kling-on?

-He runs and plays hard! He's got abs of steel and can pull himself up and onto things like a pro, and even get down now too without falling most of the time. He can reach the top of his parent's kitchen counters now and pull things off. Tall kid. (Dad is 6'8") He's always on the move!

-He likes to snuggle when he wakes up. I love to be at his house just as he's waking up from a nap. My sister is so awesome to share him with me on the days I'm able to come over. Q sits on my lap and just cuddles for a good 15 minutes or so. Then he's gotta go play.

-He loves Shaun the Sheep. It's a claymation TV show from the UK. There's not any dialogue and it's absolutely captivating. Funny even for adults.

-Kid's got rhythm. Seriously. He can boogie. And he LOVES music.

-When he gets tired he walks funny. Like a zombie. On purpose. It's hilarious. I caught it on video the other day:

It's the Final Countdown!

2011-07-18T08:01:00.000-07:00

Today is the 18th. Of July.

Guess what happens on the 18th of August!

Go ahead.

Guess!

Yup. NBT. It's here. 30 days, ladies and gentlemen. 30 days and I'll be off to Turkey & the Greek Isles.

FINALLY!

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS. (Fist pump)

Shine On

2011-07-13T08:01:00.000-07:00

I've never been a morning person. Sunrises are pretty, but I much prefer the sunset. And sleeping in.
I prefer to stay up until all hours of the night. 1am, 2 am, even 3. It's when I feel most creative.

I would love nothing better than to be able to wake up each morning naturally, having slept until my body wants to wake, with the noon-time sun blazing on my face. Sigh. A girl can dream.

This morning as my alarm went off, it played the song "Shine On" by Rascal Flatts. That's been my alarm for the past three years. But this morning, as I hit snooze for the second time and entered the last phase of my self-mandated un-groggify time (the time required to really wake up and escape the lingering sleepiness) I began to contemplate the connection between that song and my childhood.

No, I was not a child when that song came out. But the name of the song is "Shine On." Every school morning of my childhood my Dad would come into my room and say to me "Good morning, Princess! Time to rise and shine!"

Two things would happen:
1. I pretended not to be and would turn over and go back to sleep. Even though I was immediately awake when he walked in the door every morning, I'm a light sleeper.

2. Much to my chagrin, I would get angry! Mad! I hated waking up. I was tired! In those groggy morning moments my childhood perspective blamed my Dad for having to get up in the morning! And for being so &*($%& happy that *(&(*^^ early in the morning! I mean, who does that?? (Apparently a lot of people do, I'm just not one of them!)

A few minutes later, Dad would come back in, chipper as ever to "wake me up again." (Except for the one day I refused, point blank to get up and go to early-morning Seminary. [Mormon morning Bible & Book of Mormon study for high school kids.] I don't remember why exactly, I was probably just being a teenager, but after four or five wake-up attempts by my Dad, he got mad and threw a glass of water on me. The water, not the glass. I just turned over and went back to "sleep." Yup, I was a punk.)

Nowadays I wake myself up automatically, my body feels 5:59 am! Gone are the days of teenagerness when I could sleep until noon, or two or just about anytime I wanted. If I don't wake up automatically now, my alarm does jolts me to wakefulness. And I think it's funny that some small part of me thought that "Shine On" was the appropriate song to use. It's a great message. But it also reminds me of my Dad.

Sure, I was a pill to him in being so cranky in the mornings. (But seriously, who gets up at 4am every morning happy??? My Dad!) But now it's all a fond memory.

Do I want to go back to those days of childhood? Not in a million years. I still hate mornings.

But I'm learning to be happier about them. Slowly. Very, very slowly.

Gearing up for Greece

2011-07-11T08:01:00.000-07:00

A few things in my travel pack stay packed all the time. That way I know where they are always. But any traveler knows that you pack specific things for specific regions. There are a few things that I've been collecting slowly over the past couple of months just for this trip. (I haven't received endorsement for any of the products/companies listed here!)

Here's the list for this trip:

-New swimsuit. Most of this trip involves sun, sailing, beaches and water. I've got a suit I love, but I'm going to need another. I'm a big fan of Athleta swimsuits. I'm a girl with curves, and I'm active and Athleta suits are built for people like me.

-Linen pants/capris. I LOVE linen pants/capris for traveling. Especially in hot regions. Lots of people don't care for Linen because it wrinkles. I say: Who freaking cares? It's lightweight, easy-to-pack, dries quickly and breathes well. If you aren't wrinkly, a bit worn and dirty while traveling, you aren't really a traveler, you're a vacationer.

Also, I can pack four pairs of linen pants (not that I take that many) in the space it would take to pack one pair of jeans.

-Tank Tops. I only have one, so I'll need a couple more. I normally don't wear tank tops. I'm Mormon and we believe in modesty. That won't change while on vacation, but I'll be wearing a swimsuit a lot more than normal (cringe!) and tank tops are great cover-ups. (Note: Mormons do believe in appropriate clothing wearing at appropriate times - ie: sports uniforms, swimsuits, etc.)

-Dry bag. I'll be sailing on this trip. On ferries, possibly on a gullet boat, and on a 50-ft sailboat. Sailing. On the water. Of course I'll be taking a couple of electronic gadgets. Dry bag to protect. Common sense.

-Joby Gorillapod SLR-Zoom. I've wanted one of these for ages. It's a great little bendy tripod that is lightweight and it's legs can be bent/wrapped around stuff to anchor it. There are SO many great shots I've wanted to get but didn't have a tripod for steady long exposure. It all changes on this trip and I'm pretty excited!

I have contemplated taking my snorkel kit, because it just doesn't get enough use and I love it - it's mine! But there just isn't room in a frame pack for a snorkel kit. Plus, the sailboat I'll be on has kits onboard. Que sera!

Oh yah... SUNBLOCK! I'll be stocking up, thankyouverymuch. Costco has a great four-pack of sunblock right now and I'll be taking an entire four-pack with me. Three weeks + Sun + Water = One very Crispy Christy. (Even with the sunblock.)

Have you visited Greece and/or Turkey? What items did you take that were crucial? What did you wish you'd taken?

Reclaimed

2011-07-08T08:01:00.001-07:00

For a week now I have been trying to think of what to say about my recent trip to Crystal Cove Beach Cottages in Newport Beach, CA.

I'm still at a loss for words. Perhaps because this trip was never intended as a grand adventure.

Here's what it was:

It was a soulful getaway.

It was a restful bit of relaxation and indulgence.

And it was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Four nights, five days of going to sleep when I felt like it. Napping when I cared to. Rolling out of bed and going directly to the deck that adjoined the room and lounging on an adironak chair while reading book after book after book... Soaking up hours of sunshine. Exisiting in a state of quasi-narcolepsy.

The most adventurous thing I did each day was to leave Crystal Cove and it's perfect 1940's-esque confines and go with my vacation-roommate to eat breakfast at a bakery, or lunch at Cafe Rio or Rubys. And one day I drove her to downtown Huntington beach so she could shop while I read a book (I hate shopping). But for the rest of each day, we lazed, and lounged and lunched on leftovers and loved every minute of the day!

At least once each day I padded barefoot down the paved street, down a steep staircase and onto the sand-lined street below, past the beachcomber restaurant and a line of freshly restored cottages (as in just opened the day before) to the golden sands, deep blue waters and deafening silence of the crashing waves on the beach.

There was a pattern to the day, in the life of the beach, I observed. In the mornings, the sounds of children playing and people laughing were king on the beach, over the gulls and waves. But around dinner time, the people faded away. Then the residents of the cottages could be seen walking solo, slowly down the stretches of sand. After dark, a flashlight here or there illuminated small patches of beach, their owners searching for sand crabs and sea-life. But mostly, after dark, all was peace and thunderous waves where the sea met the earth, trying to beat it back and reclaim it for it's own.

And I know now, again, why I was always meant to live by the ocean, for the peace it speaks to my soul. And I know now why I don't live now by the ocean, for nothing else matters when I'm there.

But someday.
Someday I'll walk the expanse, smooth, wet sand enveloping my feet, waves drowning out every care and I'll be there to stay.

The sea will have reclaimed me.

Cruise Pranks, Volume 4: The Butter Trick

2011-07-06T08:01:00.000-07:00

This is a prank best played on unsuspecting (and even on suspecting) teenagers. I speak from experience.

Well, maybe it is a trick best played on unsuspecting anyones. Yes, that's more like it.

Needed:

-Pad of butter, prefferably the kind that come with little slips of paper on two sides, found commonly in restaurants or Cruise Ship Buffets.

-Salt shaker containing (what else?) salt.

-Unsuspecting someone.

Scene: a group of Youth Counselors sit and eat dinner together. A bunch of the teenagers they run activities for during the day/evening decide to crash the youth counselors' dinner.

Youth Counselor Sarah decides to do something about it. She says to the kid sitting across from her:

"Hey, did you know that when you put salt on butter it gives off a heat reaction?"

Kid "Uh... no."

Sarah, wide-eyed "It does!" She's unwrapped the pad of butter and salted it. She waves her hand over the pad of butter and says: "Yup, it started. Heat."

The kid eyes her with disbelief, then waves his hand over the butter too.

That's where he went wrong. Sarah, ready for him, slaps his hand down directly into the butter.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the butter trick.

I am Reminded that Mileage is a Grand Thing...

2011-07-04T08:01:00.000-07:00

My NBT (Next Big Trip) is finally just around the corner! Six weeks out now and I'm ridiculously excited. Because I've got a smidgeon of time before the trip, I sometimes find myself checking on alternate hotels/flights, etc, just to make sure I'm going where I want for the price I want to pay.

I just priced out my flights again, the same flights which I paid $530 (taxes) and 60,000 British Airways miles for (which I mostly got for free because I signed up for their credit card at at time when they were offering 100k miles to new accounts! For real!)

Here's what the fare would be if I were to pay for it outright:

Ummm... yah, that says $6309.77!!!!!!!!!!

I've gotta say that a savings of $5800 ain't bad at all!

What's the best travel hacking you've done?

& BTW: Happy 4th of July, America!

You Know You're in SoCal When...

2011-06-29T08:01:00.000-07:00

I recently spent five perfect days in SoCal.

...We'd scoped out the little suburb of Newport Beach, Corona del Mar the previous evening. Dawn (my travel buddy on this trip) spotted a little bakery called Rose Bakery Cafe and we immediately decided to hit it up for breakfast the next morning. It was a good decision!

While waiting in the (fast-moving) line out the door, I looked over behind the counter and spotted a guy that made me laugh.

He was funny, you see, because being a Northern Californian, and non-native of the SoCal surf culture, Southerners are funny to me. And he was the PERFECT southerner. Seriously. Bleached blonde, long wavy, kinda scraggly hair with brown roots showing, perfectly tanned. I nudged Dawn and said "Um, perfect surfer boy over there. So SoCal!!" We both laughed and then Surfer boy, a minute later helped us with our order. Dawn hadn't picked out what she wanted (and was vacillating between several options), but I knew I wanted the Chocolate Croissant, so surfer looked at her and then said "Yah, I'm gonna help this lady cuz she's all Avril over there."

WHAT?

All Avril? Dawn and I mentally scratched our heads and stared at him. He waited for us to get it...

***Crickets***

Yah, nothing. Surfer qualifies: "Avril Lavigne? Ya know?"

I got it. "Oh! Complicated!" I said, just blown away by the lingo, laughing my butt off. "Sorry," I explained. "We're from Northern California."

"Oh, okay." came the sympathetic (ha!) reply.

Hope your day isn't all Avril.

That's not a picture of our specific surfer waiter,

but really, that's a picture of EVERY surfer. Ya feel me bra?

Cruise Pranks, Volume 3: An Empty Room

2011-06-27T08:01:00.000-07:00

So I came aboard MS Ryndam in the middle of this prank. What I mean by that, is that I had no part in this prank's planning or execution, I simply sat back and witnessed the events unfold. And let me tell ya, it was priceless!!

Prior to boarding MS Ryndam the following happened:

Cruise DJ pulled a few pranks on a few fellow crew members that were not-so-nice.

Said crew members decided to get even.

Said crew members broke into DJ's room.

Said crew members removed all furniture from DJ's room. (Now you have to remember that the DJ lived in a Crew Cabin... all of the furniture was screwed in/bolted down/part of the freaking cabin!!! So just imagine the planning and cooperation from housekeeping and engineering that would be needed to execute this prank! Akk!)

Furniture was missing from DJ's room. Room was EMPTY. Bare bones. Nada. (All of DJ's clothing and belongings were on the floor of furniture-less room).

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. A day goes by.

Another day.

And another.

The DJ is stumped and without a bed, couch, etc.

Finally, just as the DJ is introducing the night's entertainment, he looks over to the stage, where the dancers should be and what does he see in the spotlight? That's right. His sofa.

The next night, on a different stage: His bed.

And so on and so forth, until all of his furniture has shown up.

I wonder how he got it all back to his cabin?

The moral of the story: Don't mess with people who can get keys to your cabin.

The Tuscan Castle... In NAPA.

2011-06-24T08:01:00.000-07:00

So, I caught wind of an anomaly in the hills of the Napa Valley not too long ago and decided that it must be checked out. I mean, really.

The anomaly was this: A Castle. A Tuscan Castle. In NAPA. A New Tuscan Castle in Napa.

Say WHA????

For real tho, yo.

It's legit.

Ever heard of V. Sattuti Vineyard? (I hadn't, so don't feel bad if you haven't either.) Apparently it's quite famous. Well. The owner is a generational wine maker, whose roots go back to Italia. Thirty years ago he decided to fulfill his lifelong dream of building a Tuscan Castle in the Napa Valley. He researched and researched and researched the heck out of medeival Tuscan castles in Tuscany (Where else??), then began to build. His attention to detail is phenomenal!! (for instance, you'll notice the poppies that line the vines are red poppies like those found in Italy, rather than the native orange Californian poppies.) He used building techniques all authentic to their original period: The castle walls are mortared with proper mortar, of lime, sand and water. All of the bricks used in the construction of the Castle are over 200 years old, imported from Germany, Italy, etc. There are Roman Vaulted ceilings in the cellars, which no one in America knew how to build, so he imported Italian builders to do it. The whole place is simply astonishing.

Well, in 2005, the place was finished. It is now open for touring, tasting, etc. There are 108 rooms in the Castle over 8 levels. There is even a torture chamber and a pit of despair!! You have got to see this place!

It's called Castello di Amorosa. The Castle of Love. (Yah, sounds cheesy, but I think Amorosa actually translates to more of a "labor of love" than romantic love... but don't hold it against me if I'm wrong. My Italian is non molto bene, not very good).

So head on out to the Napa Valley. Enjoy the gorgeous drive and the amazing scenery stop off at Castello di Amorosa for a wonderfully informative tour of the Castle. Just don't close yourself into the Iron Maiden. Seriously. Oh, if you're a drinker of alcoholic things, the tour includes tastings of the Vineyard's wares. I, however, thoroughly enjoyed the muscat grape juice made on premises.

Photos!

An Education

2011-06-22T08:01:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking about Education.

I recently watched this video on the need to change the education system in America. I think it's spot on.

On a related note (follow along for a minute as I digress to make my point), I have a dear friend, Mary: (http://marydebastos.blogspot.com/).
We've known each other for years and years. We attended the same University. We worked on Cruise Ships together. We were housemates for a while. We seem to keep popping up into each other's lives. She married a Venezuelan/Portuguese fellow who works in Scotland and they currently live there. They recently had a baby (One of the CUTEST babies I have EVER seen - seriously, check out her blog). Baby S is already on a fabulous life path and doesn't even know it. He will be educated in languages by his parents (English by his Mama -- Dad speaks it too!) and Spanish & probably Portuguese too, by his Papa. Because of their unusual living situation, baby S will also have multi-citizenship: American from his Mother. Venezuelan & Portuguese from his Father. UK by birth. EU as a product of being Portuguese. Think of the repercussions! When baby S grows up, he can practically go and live anywhere in the world he wants. He'll be able to communicate with much of the world. And all due to the circumstance of his birth, and the hard work of his parents.

Now, contrast baby S' already favorable circumstances with those of the average middle-class American kid, who will probably only speak one language- English. This kid will go to high school. May drop out. May go to community college, probably will never leave his native country and may never leave the state he/she was raised in.

Of course I'm making huge generalisations. Huge. I know this. But it happens, and isn't it a crying shame? The world is Baby S' oyster. The average American kid may never see an oyster.

We need to do better. We need to stop generalizing education, and packaging it for the masses. Parents need to step in and individualize to their children's needs and supplement accordingly.
You may agree with me. You may think I ought to shut up because I don't have kids. Well, if the second option is you, try and remember your education. Think of all that you know now and contrast it with what you learned as a child. If you had simply learned some things better as a child would it have benefited you more in your adult life?

In school I never properly learned how to dissect and diagram sentences. I wish I had. I wish I'd been exposed to languages when I was a toddler and learned French, Spanish, Italian, Russian - when it would have been easy to learn them!

I'm not complaining about the circumstances in which I was brought up - not at all, I was so richly blessed as a child. I had just about everything I could ever dream of. I had food to eat every day and a warm house and siblings and parents, and because of my upbringing I have been able to do amazing things in my life, things that most people never will. But I wish they could!!

I wish they would want to!

And mostly, I wish for my children, if I ever have any, the same wish that every parent ever does: that they will have every single opportunity to become smart, educated, responsible, talented people who offer up great out-of-the-box solutions to the problems the world presents them. I want to make sure they are de-programmed from thinking that just because something is advertised they must have it; that just because a corporation makes something it is better than anything they as individuals can make or do.

If you could change one thing about your education, what would it be?

Cruise Pranks, Volume 2: FOG WATCH

2011-06-20T08:01:00.000-07:00

Volume 2 of my Cruise ship Pranks Series.

Fog Watch
Every summer, without fail, dozens of bright-eyed young people join the ranks of cruise ships for their first contract. They join the ranks of "Shippies."

The old shippies are a humorous lot. They've been through it all, seen it all, and they like to share the love with the unindoctrinated.

So there are a few pranks commonly played on newbies. One of which is called Fog Watch. Fog Watch is most hilarious when executed in the Caribbean. The bright-eyed new sailor is called up to the bridge, to face several stern-faced officers. They dress up the newbie in a windbreaker and life jacket and give him/her a flashlight and walkie-talkie. They then escort said newbie to the bow of the ship, where he/she is dropped off and told to watch for fog. If he/she spots any, he/she must radio the bridge immediately and signal with the flashlight (which is visible from the bow to the bridge).

Well. As you can imagine there isn't much fog in the Caribbean. Beside that, current electronic arrays on ships make fog obsolete. Truly. And beside, what the heck is fog going to do to a ship?????

Meanwhile, on the bridge, everyone from the newbie's department has joined the officers on the bridge and everyone is having a good laugh.

The newbie is left down on the bow for an hour, sometimes two or three, on a "Shift" - basically until it's not funny anymore, then newbie is called up to the bridge, debriefed and everyone moves down to the OB (Officer's Bar), or the PO (Petty Officer's Bar) to drink off the humor/embarrassment. (I took my water bottle and hung out in the bar with my friends.)

Sneaking Suspicion

2011-06-17T08:01:00.000-07:00

Well. I've got two months + 1 day before my NBT (Next Big Trip). And boy oh boy! I'm stoked. The airfare is booked, most of the hotels are pre-paid, tours have been arranged, etc.

BUT. I'm unsettled. And mostly I wish I was independently wealthy. Because I simply can't afford all of this wanderlust.

You remember I'm writing a novel? Yes? Yes. It takes place in Rome, Greece and Turkey. So in my location research, I've come across dozens of potential locales for said book.

My trip is set to last three weeks. And the more I research Turkey, the more I realize that what I've planned is simply not enough. As it is, I'll be seeing much of Coastal Turkey, the West Coast, that is.

But as I've discovered, there is SOOOOOOO much more!

Cappadocia
With it's ancient cave dwellings, rock formations and hot air balloons.

The hot springs at Pamukkele

Photos from google images.

Kas and it's ancient sunken city.

Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/timucin_kantar/2577946033/

The Treehouses, hot springs, canyons and ancient Temple ruins at Olympos!

Who wants to start taking odds that I bail on my return flight to the US and go back to Turkey to stay a while?

Cruise Pranks, Volume 1: Underwear

2011-06-15T08:01:00.000-07:00

People who know me and know about my cruising history often piece together that living/working environments are prone to pranks. And they ask me what the best pranks I've witnessed are. So, I'm going to write a few posts dedicated to cruise pranks.

Here's the first one I pulled, with a great roomie, Frau Schmidty:

Stealing the underwear

Once upon a time I dated a fantastic guy, we both worked on the MS Maasdam together. He was a Cadet Officer and I was a Youth Counselor. We both had (have) big foreheads. It was a match made in Scandinavian-looking people heaven. Ha!

He was sweet and funny and blah, blah, blah... and also had a fabulous sense of humor and a little bit of a devilish side.

So one morning, after going to bed only about an hour prior (that's ship life!) I received a phone call. I groggily reached for the phone while my roomie, frau schmidt groaned.

"Hullo?????" I said in a raspy voice.

"Good morning, this is your wake up call." Returned the automated response, programmed to go off at that time by my brilliant BF, who had set the alarm earlier that day, just for fun.

ARGH!

(People who know me know how cranky I am about my sleep)

I immediately called the BF's cabin. The phone rang and rang and rang. And then I realized that it was 4am, and he'd set the wake up call to go off right after he would have left his cabin for his eaaaaaaarly shift.

Frau Schmidty and I vowed to return the favor. SO we thought for a while, after we woke up for real, later that morning.

And Schmidty decided to go big or go home. The next day we stopped in St. Thomas, where she bought a skanky pair of thong underware. She pinned a note to it that read "Boys, thanks for last night. XO, Christen (That's Frau Schmidty) & Christy. Then she hung it on their door handle, where it was bound to be noticed by oh, just about EVERYONE on the ship.

Well, that was just the beginning. Our prank was a two-parter. We figured the boys would get a good laugh out of the thong joke and not expect anything else. And it worked. Little did they know that we had also batted our eyes at our friends in the Crew office, gotten a key to the boys' room (totally a no-no!), gone through their closets and stolen every piece of underwear they owned.

Needless to say, after the boy's smelly engineering shift they were a bit shocked to open their closet and have no underwear. (Which Frau Schmidt held captive for THREE days)... Yah. Good times.

What's in Your Sandwich?

2011-06-14T08:01:00.000-07:00

I'm not a sandwich person. Never had been. PBnJ made me want to vomit through grade school. My Dad loves a good, thick-crusted meaty sandwich. Bill Cosby on The Cosby Show loved him some Hero Sammiches.

But I just didn't get it. Sandwiches simply weren't satiating.

Until one day at lunch time a couple of years ago, when my little sister dragged me (kicking and screaming) to a place a few blocks from work called Ratto's.

Well. Ratto's is this little, hole in the wall mom and pop Italian shop. They've got imported olive oils, wines, cheeses, and a deli sandwich counter. And it's usually PACKED, so that was a good sign, right?

The sis insisted that I order a specific sammich. Thusly:

Sourdough roll (lately modified to Ciabbatta... tastes buds change, ya know)
Turkey (roasted)
Pastrami
Roast Beef
Swiss Cheese
Tomato
Lettuce
Kalamata Olives
Dijon Mustard
Mayo
Olive Oil
Vineagar

Well. My life has never been the same. It was sandwich history. I now eat them about every other week.

Oh, there are two other places I have since found that have OUT OF THIS WORLD sandwiches:
Oakville Grocery on Hwy 29 past Yountville, CA. And a little place in Walnut Creek, CA called Morucci's. (Try the #1 1/2, it's divine!).

What's on your dream Sammich?

YUM!

Stairs

2011-06-09T09:16:00.000-07:00

I had an apostrophe!

I mean an epipahny. Truly. Lighting struck my brain.

It happened as I sat at my desk the other week, for the umpteenth hour on end (my rear end, that is)... feeling my bum go numb and wanting to stretch my legs.

Then I thought back to the glory days, when, if i do say so myself, I had a cute butt. It was a brief second in history. Yessirree I thought about it and thought to myself, Christy, that was in the days of Cruise ships and four-hour nights of sleep and running twelve flights of stairs eighteen times a day.

*DING!*

It just so happens that I work in a building with (Gasp!) STAIRS! I know right? Kind of amazing.

And it just so happens that this building has 23 flights of stairs! Can you believe it? It's incredible, I tell ya!

So, now. Whenever I get that numb-bum feeling, I get up and run up the stairs, panting and wheezing, until I have to stop. Then I make myself walk up one more flight just for good measure, before I head back to my desk (walking, so I don't come back to my desk wheezing and disheveled!).

I'm up to seven flights.

I thought to myself again, Christy, dear, this stair climbing business became a lot easier after the first week on ships. Now that you're (Gasp) thirty, it may take, possibly, maybe eight days instead of seven. So on I plug. Now in my fourth day of stair determination.

What do you do at work to keep yourself non-numb?

AND, another word on Cruise Ship Stairs:
There are two types of staircases on ships: The passenger stairs. The ones that are lovely and carpeted and have padding under the carpet and wooden hand rails and look very grand. And then there are the crew stairs. Those are the ones my fellow Club HAL gals climbed all day long. (Except when we deigned to ride the elevators - we weren't supposed to!) Those stairs are not plush, nor padded. They are not carpeted or wide and have no wooden railing. Have you ever walked up or down the steel staircases in parking garages? That's kind of what Crew Stairs on ships are like. Steel, slender affairs, usually painted off-white with yellow and blue stripes on various steps to mark landings and lookouts.

And the smell. Oh the smell. It haunts me to this day. Passenger areas on Ships smell lovely. Crew areas (the main hallways mostly, the ones that the garbage carts roll up and down to get to the garbage "dump") smell of oil paint mixed with rotting fish and yogurt and some industrial strength cleaner mixed in for good measure. Yummy, right? Yah. You get used to it.

And, funny things passengers ask about the stairs on Cruise ships (for real):

-Do these stairs go up too?
-Will those stairs take me to my room?

Writer's Focus

2011-06-07T11:25:00.000-07:00

I was going to title this post Writer's block. But that would have been misleading. I haven't been posting very dedicatedly of late, not because I have nothing to write, but because I have been writing other things. And those other things have been fairly all-consuming of me lately. I think it's terribly exciting.

I haven't been traveling of late because it's the busiest season of the year for me at work. It happens once a year. We get crazy-busy, bogged down and I hunker down and work, work, work.

(But, good news, I'm taking a small trip in a couple of weeks to celebrate the beginning of my 31st year on the planet! Woot!)

Otherwise, what have you all been up to? And have you been watching The Bachelorette?

I somehow became hooked on the show over the last couple of seasons, even though it's all kinds of ridiculous. And also even though I normally loathe the institution that is Un-Reality TV.

But if you've been watching The Bachelorette this season, you know America has a reason to loathe that tool from Utah, Bentley. Seriously? Seriously. It's just all too absurd, mean and CRAZY for many more words. Except this one $*(%&&*, and maybe this one %*$$*^0. (I don't even know what words those would be if they were real, I just like the way they look with all the fun little symbols expressing my angst!).

So, Men, really. Don't be like that guy. He's pretty much the antithesis of what a human should be. Just so you know.

Love,
Christy

Friday Fun: Decode This Airport Sequence if You Dare!

2011-06-03T08:01:00.000-07:00

SFO>JFK>LHR>IST...JTR>ATH>LHR>SFO.

Yup, that's what I'm doing in August. What are you up to in August?

PS, bonus round, here's what I did April '10:

SFO>LHR>FCO>CAI>AMM...CAI>MLA>FCO...FCO>LHR>SFO.

All of those less than/>/ (Or are they "greater than"? Not gonna lie, I never got it straight in grade school.) symbols sure are exciting!

I'll proudly admit it. I'm an airport nerd. I love them.

Answers: San Francsico>New York>London Heathrow>Istanbul... Santorini>Athens>London Heathrow>San Francisco

Bonus Answers:
San Francisco>London Heathrow>Rome Fiumicino>Cairo>Amman... Cairo>Malta>Rome Fiumicino... Rome Fiumicino>London Heathrow>San Francisco

Phew!