spanakopit-oh-my!

19 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment

by Aeri Rose in Eating, Local Events, Packing, Trips

I can’t believe the trip is done already.  I’m sitting back in the living room of the Istanbul apartment I began this adventure in.  Erdi has been a great host, really beyond the call of duty.  He let me use his home as my launch pad on this whole saga; from busing around Turkey, to jetting off to France and Morocco, and hopping over to Athens for the weekend.  Without the ‘home base’ his apartment afforded, I just don’t know how I (or my back) could have done this trip sanely.  Each time I returned I would unpack and repack from a tucked away corner of the guest room where he let me leave the extra things I seemed to continuously acquire.  Doing that final packing job and fitting it all back in two bags was quite a feat, let me tell you. But pack away I did, and I now sit comfortably; letting the clock tick slowly towards midnight, when I’ll run to the metro to catch the last train of the night. I booked another one of those inconveniently early flights and the best way for car-less me to get to the airport is to take the 2TL metro a few hours early.  Another airport camp-out awaits, but lets be honest.  I’m so excited to get home and jump in to the Christmas festivities that I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, even if I WAS in a bed.

So, how was my weekend in Athens?  Great. Greek. Phyllo-doughy.  I took two leisurely and warm days to stroll around all the ruins and contemplate ancient civilizations.  Did you know that even then, they had timed speeches?  They would fill a pot with water, and remove a stoppered plug from the bottom.  The speaker had to finish his speech before the water finished running from the first pot into a second.  Very fair.

I filled my stomach with spanakopita, gyros, baklava, and even some grilled veggies. I had a great conversation about governments with my Chinese roommate.

I was also really happy about street show find.  There was a surrealism artist there very Dali inspired, selling originals and prints.  I picked up about a half-dozen prints (at 3 Euro each I felt inclined to splurge) that I can not WAIT to display at home.

Rather un-touristic of me, I spent the last evening in Athens snuggled up with old Christmas movies on YouTube.  But I enjoyed it, and now I am completely ready for the madness when I get home.  I think my favorite video of the evening was the Muppet Family Christmas, when Fozzy brings home all the Muppets for the Holidays.  In the end his mother says “They’re weirdos, Fozzy, but they’re nice weirdos.”

Its good to be a weirdo. Its better to be a nice weirdo. Its best to have nice weirdo friends.

To all my weirdos, I love you! Merry Christmas!

Wocka-Wocka

~Aeri
PS: Look back for a final verdict on the trip budget.  I think I came  in well under the $3700 cap I set for myself.  Wahoo! And I did all my Christmas shopping without setting one foot in the mall…too bad I had to go half way around the world to do it though!

airport campout

14 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment

by Aeri Rose in Uncategorized Tags: , ,

Here I am, another night in Paris. Kind of. Paris Airport at least.

You see, because I can be a stingy traveler (ahem, budget conscious!) I prefer to take the cheap, though often poorly scheduled, flights rather than the more expensive direct flights. So upon returning to Istanbul from Morocco, I flew up to Paris and than will fly down to Istanbul (well, via Munich). But it so happens that my flight up from Morocco left at 7:00 pm on the 14th (arriving in Charles De Gaul Airport around 11:30 pm), and my flight down to Istanbul left at 6:00 am on the 15th. Not enough time between flights to bother with a hotel or a trip into the city proper (an hour each way on a Nine Euro ticket), but plenty of time to leave me twiddling my thumbs at the airport.

This is the first time I’ve been in overnight flight limbo at the airport. My other late flight/early flight experience ended quite badly, and I was full of nervous tension on the flight over. Would it be like last time, in Rome, when I found out some airports CLOSE at night, and you’d best find yourself somewhere else to go? Or would I be able to sneak into some corner somewhere, unnoticed, to wait out the night. I compromised on worst cases- its not that cold out and I have a good coat. If they throw me out will I take the train somewhere, or will I just sit outside until they open the doors again? I had settled on “sitting outside” as my worst case scenario for the night.

But, yet again, I’ve really been pleasantly surprised. I arrived in Terminal 2 to a warm and well lit hall. After passing passport control I headed towards Terminal 1, where my flight departed from in the morning. Walking slowly I passed periodically stationed bathrooms, water fountains (I promptly filled up my water bottle), vending machines, and ATMs. You know, I thought, if you have to be homeless somewhere, an airport is a great place to do it. Sure, you’re stuck behind security lines like a rat in a cage, but also like a rat you’ve got plenty of food, water, and dry straw. All you have to do is hit the feeder button and out shoots a prettily packaged snack.

Arriving in Terminal 1, I wandered past a particular set of well cushioned benches which I decided to call Home for the night. Pulling two together, I took off my shoes, unpacked my computer, and began to write.

Somehow, being in this airport well past the time most customers have left, has put me in the Christmas spirit. Something about tiptoeing quietly around, awake when you shouldn’t be, in a special place- well shucks I feel like a kid on the night before Christmas. Or maybe its just that there is less than a week to my adventure left, and then I’ll return home in the thick of the Holiday Season. Warm and snug in my leather chair, it makes me laugh, now, to think about how nervous I was a few short hours ago, rationalizing a camp out beside the doors.

Well, at least in this quiet it gave me time to think up the introduction to my “Around the World in 80 Days” book concept. Let me know what you think, and if you want to hear more…HELP ME FIND A PUBLISHER!!!

 

Around the World, an Introduction

I’m going to travel the world in 80 days. No, my name is not Philleas Fogg, and I don’t have a loyal but bumbling French servant. I’m not undertaking this journey to protect my honor or my fortune. Philleas traveled the world to show off the speed and reliability of modern transportation- chiefly using railways and steamer ships. I’ll be traveling to show how wonderful it can be to travel slowly, and enjoy the journey and the details.

Transportation has advanced quite a bit since then, and one can now circumnavigate the globe in under 80 hours. You can get to the MOON and back in under 80 days, for goodness sake. But despite the modern speed and connectivity of technology, we know as little about people in the rest of the world ads we did in Philleas’s time. Now, travelers think a place isn’t worth visiting unless Coca-Cola, McDonald’s, and Channel have preceded them. Beaches are only as good as the all inclusive resort packages they offer- complete with airport to hotel, air-conditioned shuttles; ensuring the traveler needn’t set one foot in a strange land or breathe one refreshing breath of unfamiliar scents.

But I digress. I’ll be traveling around the world, to show how today’s technologies really can connect us. To show how much of the world there is to see, and explore; how many people there are to meet. And I’ll be following Philleas’s footsteps, because I agree a leisurely 80 days is a respectable amount of time to circumnavigate the globe (after all, the publishers would never go for “but it will take a lifetime to complete!”). I hope you’ll join me on my trip, and share in the excitement of my adventures. I hope you’ll be emboldened by my stories, and inspired to go on adventures of your own.

 

Well, what do you think? Want to hear more? I do! I can’t wait to write it! I just need to track down some of those handy publishers, with their cash advances and professional editors…

an enlightening bus ride

13 Dec 2011 1 Comment

by Aeri Rose in Faeries, Transportation

Essaouira was nice. Warm, sunny, beachy.  I spent three days and $82.78 getting there, being there, and getting back to Casablanca.  The trip itself was uneventful, and not nearly as entertaining as the bus ride back to Casablanca became.

It all started, I think, when I went to the bus station and was convinced to but a ticket for a no-name bus company, despite repeated online warnings by other travelers to take only CMT or Supratours busses.  But the salesman said it was less expensive, and would get me there quicker since it didn’t make any stops along the way. Direct to Casablanca he said.

Well, promptly at 2:00 pm, after waiting in a bus station that reeked of vomit, I stowed my backpack beneath and boarded the bus.  We left Essaouira on the main road, which we just as promptly left.  For the next six hours we traveled along a country highway; past fields of Argan trees, roadside markets, towns with more donkeys than cars, and hovels (homes?)- some of which showed no sign of electricity, plumbing, or even complete roofs.  While we didn’t make any scheduled stops, per-se, we did make frequent stops at unmarked points along the highway for country travelers to quickly hop on the bus.  As we slowed again and again for robed men and veiled women, my aggravation at being mislead by the ticket salesman quickly turned to amusement.

How the Hell, I asked myself, do I get myself INTO these situations? 

Well, I answered myself, this bus left at a more convenient time, and it was a whopping 40 dirham cheaper. At least you’ll get to learn how the locals really travel, I rationed.  Settle in and enjoy the ride. 

And the ride really was enjoyable, once you got over the vicious side to side sway of the bus just barely maintaining it’s position in the road, and being very liberal with its use of the lanes.

Looking out the window at the passing fields and setting sun, I let my mind wander.  I started out wondering at the motivation for travel some of the passengers had.  They looked like they carried their whole world with them, shoved into a few twine-tied boxes. One came on board with a hamper full of tomatoes at their feet.  The only thing missing were chickens in the overhead shelf.

Not for the first time, I cringed at the things most Americans complain about. The “horrible”, “unfair” conditions of our country.  A country where every child has access to a school, a school that will probably feed them most of their meals if necessary.  I thought about the little beggar kids I’d seen in the desert and at the beach.  Where was their school?  I’d willingly pay taxes to maintain the system we have.  That’s what a community is for.  To work together to make things better for everyone.  The US is just one big community.  Sometimes, in search of our American Dreams and individual aspirations I think we forget that.  But then of course the next argument is, “Well, we wouldn’t have to pay so many taxes if we quit blowing people up.”  And thats true too. If our army expenses were smaller, we would have more room in the budget for community building.  Thinking about communities made me again think of the recent protests, protests for more and more things for the people.  Perhaps what we need to protest isn’t for more, but for less.  To use less resources, to stop using resources so wastefully, so that there are some to share with other people. People who still don’t know the comfort of constantly available water, steady heat, or a light in the dark.

I think about the way some people have to live, and I think, “Now, THEY would have something to complain about.” And I’ve never even been to a third world country! Second world at “best” and even those can be considered on the cusp of becoming a first world nation.

Sometimes I talk like a fairy, to disassociate myself and give an unbiased perspective. But today, I can’t remove myself from the culture and community I’ve been fated to represent.

All these things were swirling in my  head as I disembarked from the bus in Casablanca. Before my bag could be pulled from beneath the bus, I saw trash bags, plastic laundry bags (you know the plaid square kind with a zipper), and- yes- live chickens being removed.  So there were chickens on the bus, I thought with absentminded amusement.  Before I’d even gotten my bag I had cabbies shouting at me, offering to take me to my final destination.  I admit I was a bit overwhelmed.  Unlike the Casablanca train station, the bus stop was not well lit, well signed, or comforting to a lone traveler.  Then, out of the blue, another travel angel saved my day. She was a quiet girl with a leopard print scarf wound tightly around her head.  She spoke perfect English.  She had an entourage of several other scarf bedecked women, probably sisters or aunts. She asked if I was traveling alone, and took control (much like my previous travel angel) when I replied yes.  She helped me to a fair cabbie, helped me call my host, and gave me her number- should anything happen on the way.  This much confidence and love for a stranger from a woman suppressed by her nation. Just think how strong these women would be, were they allowed to stand up for themselves!

I was so grateful for her help, and somehow humbled I almost cried in the cab.

I don’t have any more answers for the world than I did before my bus ride.  I wish I did.  Or maybe all I can wish for is to be as confident and loving as that leopard print lady had been.

And the rest will follow.

~Aeri

bazaar chumps and camel humps

12 Dec 2011 2 Comments

by Aeri Rose in Advice, Transportation, Trips

My sojourn in Marrakesh couldn’t have had two more contrasting settings: the bustling, energetic Medina and the calm, expansive Sahara. In the Medina I spent too much money. In the Sahara I spent none. In the Medina I was overwhelmed with colors, smells, sounds, and people. In the Sahara I was just overwhelmed. The magnitude of the dunes, the fineness of the sand, and the camels. Just, everything about the camels. The camels were cool.

I spent about four days in Marrakesh, arriving the night of the 7th and departing the morning of the 11th. The night I arrived I was met in the square by someone from my hostel and led through the winding unmarked roads of the Souks, finally arriving at the door of La Casa Del Sol. I wondered if I would ever be able to find my way out and back again the next day. The hostel was great, and worth much more than the 70 dirham ($7) a night I paid to stay there.

I was taken to the common room, a narrow room lined with thickly cushioned benches, and offered some sweet mint tea. You drink a lot of mint tea in Morocco. Mustafa, the hostel manager, showed me a map of Marrakesh and circled some of the main sights, and gave me some tips.

  1. Boys will offer to lead you to the sights, some of which are pretty hard to find in the Medina. If you’re hopelessly lost, you can let them, but set a price in advance. They will ask for 100 Dh. Offer no more than 20 Dh.
  2. With haggling, on big ticket items, divide their initial offer by three and start from there. With little ticket items, divide by four. Don’t ever pay more than half their starting price. And they’ve all basically got the same stuff. Be willing to walk away. Playing them off each other is a good way to get to the price you want.

After that, I thanked him, finished my tea, and was led to my bed. The next morning I DID brave the winding roads myself, and while they were confusing, I managed to get myself around. I first tried my hand at sight seeing, and found the museum, school, and ancient mosque they highlighted. Leaving was a bit harder, because it became impossible to retrace my steps. I ended up treating the Medina like a forest, on a hike whose trail I had lost. I treated the roads like rivers, using the mentality “well, if I keep following the cars and turning onto progressively bigger roads, eventually I will get out of the Medina at least. From there I can figure out WHERE I popped out using the map, and follow the big roads back around to the square.”

This method worked for me, and I was out of the Souks, in fact out of the entire old city, in no time. When I found myself on the map though I realized I was at the entire opposite end of town. Since it was early afternoon already and I had been walking all morning, I cheated and took a $2 cab back around to the square. From there I had some lunch, took a break, and prepared myself for the second half of my day: Shopping!

There is a lot of cool stuff in the Moroccan marketplaces. It can be overwhelming and hard to decide what to get. It can also be a lot of fun! Here are some haggling aids I picked up while trying my hand at this ancient art.

  1. Price a few guys out first, just ask their starting price and walk away. You’ll be amazed at the variety you’ll find, even here.
  2. Keep different amounts of money in different pockets. The best way I found of getting the price I wanted was to stick to it, and say that was all the cash I had left. Even take out the cash and show him that’s all there is. Then at the end, scrounge around in another pocket for some loose change and say “Ok look, this is REALLY all that’s left”. They’ll usually take it.
  3. Really scrutinize the product, look for weak points or defects. Tell him, you’d buy it for the price he’s offering, except for the mistakes. Then offer him another price.

  4. Like I said before, play them off each other. Tell him there’s a guy around the corner that was offering it for the price you want (use the numbers).

  5. Agree to go up in price if he’ll throw in something small like a figurine or scarf.

These are the styles I found most successful while haggling. Hopefully some will help you too! Some may be a little underhand, but its all a game anyway. My favorite victory was when I wanted a green leather purse and talked the guy down from 600 Dh to 250, and then he handed me a wooden camel as I was leaving. Who gets presents for haggling down the price to almost a third of the starting price? Funny stuff.

The next day was the Desert Day and the energy totally changed. In the early morning I hopped on a bus with several other Americans, some Italians, and some Australians. We took a winding ride through the High Atlas mountains and arrived at the edge of the desert in the afternoon. Now I’ll admit, it didn’t just suddenly turn into sand dunes stretching out before us as far as the eye could see, like a golden ocean. It was just kind of rocky and brown, trailing into dusty dirt. But on the left of the road was a big group of camels, lying peacefully on folded legs. CAMELS!!! The desert men, complete with robes and turbans, tended to the camels and waited for the tourists to assemble. We were taught how to wrap turbans with any length of fabric on hand. One girl even used her Burbury scarf, which made quite a silly turban, to be sure.

The camel ride into the desert was nothing what I expected. It was BUMPY! My bum is still sore! The camels were adorable somehow, with their giant feet and bushy eyebrows and fluffy swiveling ears. We wandered on, led by a desert guide, until we could no longer see the road behind us. Gradually the rocks and dirt did give way to sand and small dunes. Nothing like the mountainous, frozen waves of sand I was envisioning, but sand dunes none the less. Toping one rise we saw a tent village in the distance. Our destination. Our home for the evening.

Sadly, the sky was cloudy, and not a single star revealed itself that night. But our eyes were kept grounded by the entertaining drumming of our hosts around a campfire. After a sunrise and a quick breakfast the next morning, we again mounted our camels for the ride home.

Chastise me for taking a dreaded Tour if you wish, but my mission was accomplished. I wanted to ride a camel and check out a desert, both of which I got to do. On top of that, I got to play a ceramic drum with a desert nomad. And I learned how to tie a turban. Well worth the $100 price tag.

Next up- Essaouira and the beach!

my travel angel

08 Dec 2011 1 Comment

by Aeri Rose in Advice, Trips

Morocco!!!

So far, Morocco has been everything I expected Istanbul to be. Or at least Marrakesh has been.  Warm, vibrant, energetic, colorful.  The markets are still filled with handcrafts and ethnic goods, rather than Chinese imports (or if they are imported, they do a better job disguising it).  The dry air is warm. The weather, sunny.  Walking through the narrow streets of the Souks, one could be in 2011 or 1911, it’s hard to tell with the donkey’s pulling carts of fruit or bread, being led by robed men with thin  leather sandals.

I actually landed in Casablanca on December 7th, and found my way to Oliveri’s Cafe, the meeting point set by Ali- my couch surfing host.  Too much? Let’s back up.  For the Moroccan leg of the journey I was hoping to couch surf or stay in hostels.  In Casablanca, however, there were NO hostels! Or I correct myself, there was one- Hostel International- but it was booked full for the night of my arrival.  Luckily I found a friendly couch surfer who would have me.   From the airport, as per my habit, I stopped at the information desk when I landed.  The resulting events encourage me to list “stop at the information desk upon landing” as an important travel tip.  The attendant recommended the best way to get into town being to take the train (40 dirham) and then a cab (which shouldn’t cost more than 20 dirham).  At the train station cabbies offered to take me to my final destination- for 70 or 80 dirham.  I was insistent with my 20 and eventually found one who would take me for 25.  At the cafe, I met Ali my host.  We met, hit it off, had some dinner, etc. General good time with new people stuff.  The next day I toured Casablanca, particularly enjoying the beaches and experiencing the Atlantic Ocean from the other side.  That evening I took the train to Marrekesh (for only 90 dirham/$10).

While trying to hail a cab back to the train station, I met my first true travel angel.  You’ll meet them, when you most need them and least expect them.  Mine was not “angelic”.  She was not tall and lean with golden hair and a white dress, sprouting feathery wings like an over grown pigeon.  What she WAS was friendly and quick to smile, with curly brown hair.  She was a little chubby, and was wearing a long  black sweater over black leggings with grey boots. She was standing on my street corner, waiting to be picked up.  I asked her if this was a good place to hail a cab to the train station.  I must have looked inexperienced in the ways of hailing a cab in Casablanca during rush hour (which, of course, inexperienced I am).  She took my hand like a child, and began to hail down each cab that passed, asking if they had room for one more to Casa Voyager (the station).  She was patient. She stuck with me.  Each one that said no, she would return, take my hand, and smile.  One dozen, maybe two dozen later (I lost count) and finally success! She put me in the cab, made sure the driver understood, and than stood on the curb and waved while we drove away, like a mother whose child was getting on the school bus for the first time.  I smiled and waved back, knowing that without her help I NEVER would have gotten a cab on time.  So, thank you travel angel!  Thank you! My tip from this experience is not to find yourself a travel angel, but to leave plenty of time to get to the station. It’s rarely a matter of “just” hailing a cab, or hopping on a bus, even when you know where you’re going.

Once in Marrakesh I checked in to the “La Casa Del Sol” Hostel, right off the main square- Place Jemaa El Fna.  I had booked it the night before using hostelworld.com.

That was last night.  This morning I woke up, ready to explore yet another new city.  But the results of that exploration, should be, I think, a story for another day.

Cheers!

Aeri

 

fair paris

08 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment

by Aeri Rose in Advice, Local Events

Last week I was in Paris and I spent $280.00 (Well $279.55 to be exact). That is amazing, even to me. That works out to be $40, or less than 30 Euro, per day. How did I do it?

Friends. Friends saved me in Paris, a city of $6 coffee and harmless restaurants that blind side you with $20 glasses of house wine. Ah, I love Paris. So much coffee, wine, and cheese; parks and museums; and now home to so many close friends.

I arrived on November 30th and took a 9.10 Euro train ride to my friend’s apartment. I would be staying with her and her mother this week. I was greeted by warm smiles, big hugs, and good smells. We sat down to the task of catching up, which transitioned into the task of eating dinner. And I have to tell you, all week long, Cloe’s (my friend’s) mom out did herself with her French feasts. That night we had pig cheeks. Other nights were fish, froi gras, snails, buttery creamy side dishes, always accompanied by a cheese plate and fresh (and homemade) bread. I have never feasted so well in France as I did this week, at the generosity of my wonderful hosts.

Sadly, Cloe and her mom had to work the next morning, so after dinner we retired early. I was left to my own devices the next day. I wandered down to the nearest Metro station and picked up a “Paris Visite” card. (Since my hyperlink function is not working this morning, here is the website: http://www.ratp.fr/en/ratp/c_21894/paris-visite/) It seemed like the best option. Five full days of unlimited travel within Paris for 30.70 Euro. That worked out to be about 6 Euro, or three rides, per day- a minimum average I certainly exceeded.

I wandered for a bit, enjoying the architecture, while making my way to another friend’s apartment. Elise was hosting me for lunch. On the way I stopped in a market to pick up a bottle of wine for our reunion. Said bottle of wine, and a full meal later, and we were still catching up. We continued our day by browsing the winter markets that spring up all over Paris in December. Vin Chaud in hand, we browsed past stalls of scarves, jewelery, and other knick-knacks.

That night another friend, Sandra, was coming into town for the weekend- flying in from Zurich where she works with the IronMan Triathlon organization. We all met for drinks at a centrally located rum bar, deftly selected by Elise.

The weekend was spent enjoying the sights (we went to MontMatre, Sacre Coeur, a Dali exhibit, and Versailles), catching up with friends (some more old college pals had come up from South of France for the reunion weekend) and absorbing the city. I don’t have many travel tips for this week, because this week for me was more about reuniting with old friends than powering through the sights and smells of another new place. One lucky coincidence I can relate. In Paris, in the winter, the first weekend of the month, is free museum weekend. Many of the museums and famous sites are open and not requesting admission fees. Even the big ones like the Louvre and Versailles Palace participate. Since my Parisian friend Cloe was more interested in Versailles than the Louvre (and since I had been to the Louvre the last time I was in Paris, but had never seen Versailles) we decided to go with the palace. Because of my Paris Visite ticket, it only cost 3.40 Euro for me to get out the the palace, and free entry to enjoy the rooms, paintings, and the extensive garden. So, while you can’t plan your trip around these wonderful days, my tip is to always check the local happenings when you arrive. Perhaps your stay overlaps something rare and interesting and it can help guide your itinerary.

All too soon the weekend was over and my friends, who had traveled from Switzerland, Southern France, and Belgium, and all to meet in Paris for a few drinks and a good meal, had to return to their homes and prepare for Monday morning obligations. It was short, sweet, and wonderful, and made the trip worth every penny. Midnight of my last night I found myself with local Parisians Elise and her Fiancee, watching the Eiffel Tower sparkle in the night, competing with the stars in the sky.

Paris, I love you, but without friends like these, I could never afford you.

 

Au Revoir,

 

Aeri