Spark(ly) Notes: Aeri Rose in 2013

17 May 2013 1 Comment

by Aeri Rose in Faeries, Local Events, Observations, Transportation Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

My goodness it has been a while since my last post! Almost four months, two states, and two shows since my last post in fact.  Being the lead fairy of a costume boutique is hard work!

But so much has happened! I will try to catch you up.  First, the Spark(ly) Notes:

- Adopted by Ace

- Drove to Arizona and opened the Arizona Renaissance Festival

- Was accepted to vend at Scarborough Renaissance Festival

- Sold Alice

- Drove to Texas and opened Scarborough Faire

-Schmooze with Travel Chanel Team

- Road trip to New Orleans

- Bought a Van

- Was accepted to vend at the Virginia Renaissance Festival

- Survived exploding fertilizer plants and rouge Tornados

I think that’s all. That’s enough right? I’m sure some of those sparkly notes have you saying “excuse me what?!”  and I promise they are all as silly and exciting as they sound.

So to begin, at the beginning, which is often a good place to start.  Except when the end seems like a good place to start. So long as working backwards is an alright thing for you to do. But I digress.

In January I arrived in Santa Barbara and spent two weeks with Teri Evans, owner of Unicorn Clothing, in her workshop. While there I learned that Ace needed a home. Ace was a six month old Siberian Husky that was adopted by Teri’s neighbors as a puppy.  Only after adopting him did they learn that their landlord did not allow dogs.  Not the  best order of things to be sure.  So poor Ace was faced with a tough decision: the pound, or me,  He chose me! And so two weeks later, into the Jeep he climbed, and away to Arizona we did go.

Ace is the beast up front. Lucy, my Dad's little lady, is in the back.

Ace is the beast up front. Lucy, my Dad’s little lady, is in the back.

In Arizona we had the exciting task of opening a new booth for Unicorn Clothing.  And I got the exciting information that Reincarnation Outfitters had been accepted to vend at Scarborough Renaissance Festival, in Texas in April and May.  And I sold Alice, my Jeep Cherokee, to my good friends Alex and Stephanie.  With not a few tears I said good bye to my loyal road companion and went from “Has It Together Hippie” to “Irresponsible Road Rennie”.  On the road, with a large dog and a business’s supply of inventory and no way of transporting it.  Yikes!

Operation: [Learn how to] Ask For Help was in full effect.  And I have to say it was a good lesson for me.  After spending the full run of Arizona steadily sewing skirts, making tutus, and preparing for the show; it was finally time to hit the road to Texas as the grateful passengers to Repo and Shadow.  Ace was an AMAZING road dog, incredibly patient and calm for the 20 hour road trip ahead of us.  Repo and Shadow were entertaining travel company and Repo’s van did a decent job of getting us to our destination.  It willingly humored our midnight departure and my through the night shift as driver.  It patiently weathered the hail and freezing rain that met us over the Texas border.  And it finally gave up with a cough when we cracked a radiator hose.  Luckily Shadow and some gaffing tape came to the rescue.

Pulling onto site the next morning, I was instantly faced with the next adventure: Set Up Camp.  Yes, I would be CAMPING at the show this year. I hadn’t had to CAMP at a festival since 2009 and I was feeling very uncertain of my memory and skills regarding such an activity.  Could I still put up a decent shade/weather tarp? What about platforms. What about lights? God I didn’t even have a KNIFE with me. How unprepared could I be?

But again, thanks to the success of Operation: Ask For Help and the local Wallyworld I soon had a cozy camp established.  And I have to say, after countless storms, and tornado threats (keep reading!) I am pretty damn proud of my Tarpentry skills.  Not a single unwanted drop has entered my tent.  Well, maybe five unwanted drops found coming through a hole in the tarp; a hole quickly defeated by a sliding a trash bag in between the tarp and the tent’s rain fly.

"Abstract Roofentry"

“Abstract Roofentry”

Cold nights forced me to warily grant Ace tent privileges, an honor he me with surprisingly good behavior.  What a cuddle butt he is.   But I knew the cool days and cold nights would not last.  Soon the Texas heat would descend: 90 degree days with 90% humidity and no where to hide from it.  But luckily I had a plan.

Ale, my adventurous step-mom, was going to be meeting me in New Orleans after the second weekend of the show to deliver the inventory I had stored in Maryland.  She took Ace home with  her to spend time as a house dog, complete with a yard to run in and air condition to hide in.  New Orleans was New Orleans.  Repo, loyal road dog himself, came with me for the adventure and a chance to see The Big Easy for himself.  New Orleans is great. Every time I go I tell myself, “Self. You need to live here one day. You really do.”

This time was no different. We three wandered the city by night, exploring streets with music pouring out of dodgy bars and lit by real gas lights on the corners.  In the morning we ate beignets and drank chicory root coffee and hit the road home by the afternoon.  I got to introduce another road connoisseur to some of my favorite roads in the country: the beauty of I-10 as it spans the swamps outside of the city.

First Faire Booth!

First Faire Booth!

Back in Texas things seemed to settle down. Sort of.  Each weekend was a whirlwind of tutus, and hula hoops.  Each week was filled with tutu production, dance parties and concerts, and other standard Scarborough Fare.  Pun intended. The highlight of the season was again the Naughty Clown Party. The Naughty Clown is an annual show hosted by the resident clowns.  It began as a chance for the clowns to get out some of the naughty jokes they just can’t use on the kiddies during the weekend.  It has since grown into the most stunning display of talent on the circuit.  Performers and those who don’t perform professional but sure as hell could if they wanted to put on acts of such beauty and skill that it makes you cry out of joy and love and respect for our amazing community.  Those of us in the audience are just as enthusiastic, dressing to the nines- or the sixty-nines as the case may be- in our best naughty clown attire.  This year I wore a rainbow.  That’s what it felt like anyway, an accurate description do you think?

20130514_210751

Dudes in Drag: Another Naughty Clown Tradition!

Dress like you love yourself!

Dress like you love yourself!

One weekend the Travel Channel was on site filming for a new show about fan culture. The renaissance festivals, with their playtrons, comicon fans, and authentic hobbits, was a wealth of footage I am sure.  And of course I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to talk to someone from the TRAVEL CHANNEL!   I couldn’t leave my booth to find them, sadly, so I planned- and pounced! I sent a flower with a message something along the lines of this: “No festival experience is complete without feeling the excited delight of being told you’ve been sent a flower. But there is no blushing admirer at the other end of this bloom. Only an enterprising fairy who hopes you’ll stop by her booth to hear some tales of travel and adventure, glitter and angels.” I sent it with the flower girl with instructions to give the flower and the not to “the most important looking crew guy”, and it worked! The next morning someone came by and we  chatted and I told him about this here blog and gave him my card and I hope hope HOPE that someone from the TRAVEL CHANNEL is reading this blog! What do you think? Would you watch a show about a backpacking fairy? Wouldya?

Whew!

Somewhere in all that merriment I managed to find my new road vehicle.  A 1994 Chevrolet Sportvan…the kind of van that the Mystery Machine was drawn to resemble.  I am going to paint the sh*t out of that van! No white space will be left unadorned.  The Era of the Van has begun.  I LOVE IT! Lets just hope she is as loyal as Alice was.  Her first big test is coming up in less than two weeks when we make another mad dash north.  I’ll have four days to tear down in Texas, drive north, and set up in Virginia.  Wahoo!! Coffee please!

The new Van. Name still Needed!

The new Van. Name still Needed!

And there you have it.  An update on the life of Aeri the Traveling Fairy.  I promise I’ll try to keep on top of it this spring!

Much Love! I’ll be back soon!

Aeri

home sweet home?

15 Oct 2012 2 Comments

by Aeri Rose in The Vardo, Transportation Tags: , , , ,

For my next trick, I’ll be taking you on a bit of a different kind of adventure. Things have been going pretty well for my costume boutique, Reincarnation Outfitters, and it’s time to consider some permanent (sort of) display space.  Up until now we’ve worked mostly out of a 10 x 10 easy up, which happened to blow away and turn itself into a taco/squished spider at our last event (Pennsic War, if you were wondering).

Do not neglect to stake and weight your easy-ups as soon as you put them up. They are easy-downs too. And easy-cartwheel-across-the-fields.

We still used it, don’t worry! But it forced us to consider the image we were sending by working with such a standard piece of equipment.  Most of the well traveled professionals use beautiful, sturdy, canvas and wood beam tents. Tents that run upwards of $3,000 and require the strength of several strong men to set up and take down.

You may have noticed, I am not a strong man.  Nor are there several of me.  So while I knew these beautiful Panther Tents were an option, I just didn’t think they were the option for me.

What I did think was-  Gypsy Wagon!!!!

Here’s an example of how cute they can be!

Officially termed “vardo” by the Romani who adopted them, these colorful, sturdy, wagons were used by the traveler cultures in the 1900′s.  But even before that, French circus folk used them in the early 1800′s. It is where they lived, set up stages, and sold their wares.  Now that is something I think I can get into!

The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. I talked to my Stepfather (Jeff), an extremely skilled carpenter; and he had even more ideas than I did. But between the two of us we agreed: a vardo is just what I need.

We will build one with a living space and storage spaces inside, and a false wall along one side that can open up into a sizeable display space with clothing racks and shelves.  I could set it up by myself, it wouldn’t blow away in a storm, and a retractable awning could provide additional coverage on rainy days.

With the winter almost upon us, I have landed at home with almost four months before I hit the road again. A lifetime by traveler standards.  So this winter, follow along as we build a colorful home for a fickle fairy artist like myself.

Tataa!

~Aeri

the border crossing, read at your own risk

12 Oct 2012 Leave a Comment

by Aeri Rose in Advice, Transportation, Travel Angels, Trips Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Here is the second of my notebook posts. This one was written on September 26, 2012.  Warning: Concerned parents and friends, this might be one of those stories you don’t want to know about.  It happened, it was probably the result of a stupid decision sometime before, but we made it out OK, so don’t  give me any flack for it! Continue at your own risk.

“On the morning of the 22nd we were still in Listvyanka.  We knew that we had to get to Ulaan Baatar, in Mongolia, by the morning of the 24th, so that we could go on an orientation with the Ger to Ger organization before our scheduled trek into the Gobi on the 25th.

To get there we had heard about several options, all involving a return to Irkutsk.  Listvyanka was so small that the only way into and out of it, for travelers, was via marshrutka to Irkutsk, or via a ferry across the river to the almost as tiny Port Baikal. We felt like the three bears deciding between our next travel step, and hoping there was no big bad wolf lying in wait.

The first option, Option A, involved a thirty-three hour overnight train from Irkutsk to Ulaan Baatar.  There was no plascarte (third class) option on this train and second class was running a bit above our budget.  Also, the time spent on the train skirting around the western and southern edges of Lake Baikal is one of the prettiest parts of the trip and not to be passed in the dark.  So we nixed option A.

Option B was pretty nice.  For $33.00 you take a seven hour train from Irkutsk to Ulan-Ude, and then for $50.00 you take an 11 hour coach bus from Ulan-Ude to Ulaan Baatar.  The whole bus crosses the border together.  This is the option we decided on.  It was relatively inexpensive, gave us a day trip around the lake, and got us to Ulaan Baatar on time.

Option C was described as the adventurous option.  The “off the beaten path” option. Take the same $33.00 train from Irkutsk to Ulan-Ude.  From Ulan-Ude, take a marshrutka to the Russian border town Kyakhta (Кяхта).  There, hitch a ride across the border, since walking across is not allowed. The going rate is 100 Rub in a marshrutka, 200 Rub in a taxi, or 250 Rub in a private car.  “It  happens pretty regularly, don’t worry,” we were told.  Once over the border, take another minibus to Mongolia’s closest town; where you’ll pick up the coach bus there for the remaining five hour journey into Ulaan Baatar.  Needless to say, we were not feeling the need to take this risky route just to prove ourselves to the world.  And needless to say, the universe had other ideas.
We started out alright.  We left Listvyanka on the first marshrutka out on the morning of the 22nd.  The night before, we had purchased third class train tickets from Irkutsk to Ulan-Ude on the 10:00 am train on the 22nd.  Our minibus arrived in Irkutsk by 9:10 am, and a tram had us at the train station by 9:30 am.  I even had time to mail a few more postcards before we hopped on the train.  And despite the crying babies, dirty diaper, and crusty “4 days in” travelers in plascarte, we really enjoyed the ride- applauding ourselves mightily for deciding to make this leg of the trek during the day.

Skirting the lake, view through a dirty plascarte train window.

We arrived at our hostel around dusk, and even before our packs hit the floor, we asked to buy bus tickets to Ulaan Baatar for the next morning . “Uh Oh” said the girl at the Ulan-Ude Guest House.  “I can try, but they might be sold out by now.”

“Uh oh!” we said.  No one mentioned that possibility.  Of course, the tickets were sold out.  Did we want to get tickets for the day after? “We just couldn’t!” we said “We have to get to the Steppes! Tell us about this other way.” we said, and they did.  We’ll try it, we decided.

So early the next morning we made our way to the bus station to pick up a minibus to the border for 300 Rub (about $10).  It left at 9:00 am, stopped for a bathroom break and to change a flat tire at 11:00 am, and had us to Kyakhta by 12:30.  There, we were swarmed by cabbies offering to take us to the border for 200 Rub.  “Over the border?” we asked.  “No, to the border” they said.

We were getting no where with them when a guy with two suitcases and a Mongolian passport told us he was going to Ulaan Baatar too, and we could follow him.  I’m paraphrasing of course.  What he really did was wave his Mongolian passport at us and point to it.  We could share his taxi for 100 Rub each (traced on his palm with his finger) and he would get us across.  And so we met our mute Mongolian Travel Angel.  We could not have done this without him.  You “adventurous travelers”, take this as a warning.

Sometimes time and space are just like a giant fast flowing river.  You know just by looking at it that it is to strong for you to swim.  All you can do is focus on where you need to be, jump in, and try to float with your head above water and your feet pointed down stream; praying that the current and the cosmos will get you where you need to go.  This was like that.  When we got into that first cab we jumped into the river.  After that, we were present, but the fact that we made it to Ulaan-Baatar had little to do with us.

In the back of the first cab of our epic border crossing.

Anyway, we took that cab for 100 Rub to the Russian border.  The we got out, put our things in another car that was waiting for people just like us, and waited in line.  After about 20 minutes it was our turn.  We drove to a guard house, and got out with our things. The car was searched and our bags checked.  That done, we waited for the next station.

While waiting, smooth as butter, with confidence and finesse to put the most hardened Baltimore drug dealer to shame, the little old ladies in the car behind us brought over two duffel bags.  Our driver put them in the trunk just as we were putting our own bags back.  calm as anything, as if she smuggles things right under the noses of Russian border patrol every day.  Maybe she does.

When the guards were ready, we drove another 15 feet to the next station, got out again, and presented our passports for inspection.  And you do need at least one registration in a Russian city, even if you never stay longer than one week at each place.  You need at least one, so don’t let your hotels tell you otherwise.

Passing that inspection we drove into no-man’s land.  We had made it half way! We were out of Russia, there was no turning back now.

We passed a dusty barbed wire expanse, and reached the Mongolian border.  Passports? Check.  Drive up, park, into the building, get passports stamped and luggage checked, get back into car and drive through another barren wasteland and out another fence, and viola! You’ve made it to Mongolia.

There were beggars, drunkards, and currency changers thick and slow as zombies in the street. They called in your car window as you slowly drove past, and once you put your window up they tried to open your car doors until you locked those too.  And suddenly, in the midst of all this, our driver pulls over stops, and demands 200 Rub each.  Her job was done. You were in Mongolia.

We pay, get out, and are ushered into another cab by Ghengis, our travel angel.  But before getting in we exchange our remaining Russian Rubbels with a guy who has a fanny pack stuffed with Mongolian Tughriks.  This one is offering a good rate, Ghengis explains.  Transaction complete, we get in the cab and are told to give the driver 3000T each (about $2.00).

Along the way (about an hour drive) Ghengis explains through pantomime, scratch paper, and a calculator that this cabby will take us to one village.  I use the term “village” loosely.  Much like the ghost towns of the American Mid-West, these villages are strips of half a dozen buildings strung in a row with a public latrine on one end.  Anyway, at this village we will pick up another cab, which for 8000T will take us the two hours to the nearest bus stop.  The bus to Ulaan Baatar will be another 8000T.

Communication at it’s finest! This was our scratch pad conversation with Ghengis.

Sure, OK, we nod.  Do we have much choice? Lets just hope there is an ATM at the bus station we whisper to ourselves.  It is about this time that I realize our travel angel is not just signing with us, but with everyone.  He seems to hear alright, but hasn’t said much to anyone.  No wonder he is helping us! Apart from being a kind person, he must sympathize with the difficulty of traveling anywhere without being able to just say what he needs, common language or not!

And thanks to Ghengis, everything did happen just like that.  The 3000T got us…somewhere, the 8000T got us to the bus station, and another 8000T bought us tickets on the 4:00 pm train to Ulaan Baatar (and there was an ATM at the station).

Sandra and I were sitting with our bags in the cafe, after enjoying our first Mongolian meal, when suddenly Ghengis comes running back in, waving animatedly.  His message was clear: hurry! come! NOW!

We grabbed our things and dashed out the door. Our bus was on the move! We ran in front of it, cutting it off at an intersection, and thankfully it stopped long enough for us to throw our bags in the storage area beneath and climb aboard.  The time? 3:37 pm.  Hmmm…buses leave early here? Good to know.

Five hours later we re-emerged from the bus in the Dragon Center bus stop at Ulaan Baatar.  Ghengis, loyal to the end, shared a cab with us to ensure we made it to our hostel safely.  Stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, with smog so thick it burned my eyes and the back of my throat, I was reminded again how much I despise cities- especially developing Asian cities.  Anyway, another hour of traffic and 21,000 T later and Sandra and I were saying goodbye to Ghengis, the Amazing Mute Mongolian Travel Angel (the trip back to the bus station in the morning only cost 7000T, so you can see how expensive slow moving traffic can be).

Like I said, Sandra and I are good, but we aren’t that good.  Without Ghengis, I don’t think we could have made it past the taxis, the border guards, the beggars and money changers, and all the cabs and buses we took that day.  We jumped in the river and washed up on shore this time, thanks to the travel gods, the cosmos, and human kindness.

I owe karma big time.

Сайн яваарай! (Safe travels!),

Aeri

choo-choo!!

22 Sep 2012 Leave a Comment

by Aeri Rose in 1001 things to do before you die, Advice, Transportation, Trips Tags: , , , , , , ,

Waiting for the train at one of Moscow’s many stations, with two Finish sisters making the same trek.

“Are you girls sporty?” Asked an old Russian Grandma at the Moscow train station, looking at our bulging backpacks.  Or rather, that is what Sandra later told me she asked.  “Yes, I guess so” replied Sandra.

“Well, then you shouldn’t be smoking.” the Grandma joked, referring to one of the two Finish girls we had recently met.  They too were going to be taking our train to Irkutsk, though they had opted  to ride in the cheapest class, Plackscarta whereas we had decided to splurge on 2nd/Kupe class.  “Have a good trip, and be safe, girls.” concluded the Grandma.  Then she went one way and we went the other, to platform number 1 where our train would be arriving shortly.

And so began the ACTUAL Great Railway Adventure.  The reason for this trip, or rather, the excuse.  The train ride itself would take only three days out of the thirty-two I had allotted for the trip.  The cities before and the Mongolian camping trips after would make up the bulk of the journey, but this promise, to ride the train across Siberia was the impetus behind it all.

So board the train we did, wagon 12, room 6, bunks 22 and 24 (both top bunks, which I came to find would be a blessing).  We would be spending 80+ hours on the train, sharing this room with our two lower bunk mates: an older music professor on his way to a music conference in Ulan-Ude, where he would give a talk on a paper he had written on Russian Folk Music; and a younger man on his way to work, prospecting oil in the vast uninhabited expanse of Siberia.  He would ride this train most of it’s length, then take a small plane to a river where he would board a boat to carry him an hour or so up stream to his final destination.

Home Sweet Home

To be honest, I am really enjoying this forced relaxation, this mobile captivity.  We are over half way into our journey by now and what I thought would be cabin fever is actually contentment.  There has  been a lot of sleeping.  Long nights of quiet, dark, rocking sleep; and short naps after meals and between sessions of reading, writing, daydreaming, and talking to our roommates.  Oh and long views of the passing countryside! And I have to say, I am very glad we decided to go with Kupe Class.  The reports from the Finnish girls confirmed our suspicions: people packed 6 to a room with no privacy, space, or fresh air.  Our moods would be quite different by this time had we opted on 3rd class.  Some things are worth the extra dough.

There is a grandpa a few cars down who has taken a liking to us. We met him walking on a platform during a longer stop.  He is on vacation, returning home now after having watched his daughter’s apartment in the city while she traveled in Europe.  Today he bought tomatoes, piroshkis, and a strange smoked fish from the grandmas on the platform, a lunch feast full of “things to try” while traveling the railway.  The fish was a bit much, but like always the potato and cabbage filled piroshkis were amazing.  There is something about deep fried dough wrapped stuff that is good in every culture.  Dumplings, pirogue, piroshkis, boutza, ravioli…call it what you will, they’re yummy and you know it!

I’m just about ready to settle down into another nap actually, after said lunch.  Sandra is down below chattering happily in Russian with our “roomates”.  She is certainly getting the practice and language refresher she was hoping for.

Hopefully the second half of our trek will pass as pleasantly as the first has.
______________________________________________________

I’ve relocated! I took a walk through the train to find the food car, and discovered it wasn’t a far walk at all. It was one car down, and so having passed through several sets of doors and an extremely shaky car joint, I now find myself at a little table with a red table cloth and an extremely overpriced cup of black coffee.

The rest of my cabin is napping after an exciting class in electrical engineering earlier today.  The musical professor’s extension cord stopped working, so the oil prospector said he could fix it.  Which he did.  After taking the thing nearly completely apart and re-wiring it.  Luckily ever ready Swiss Sandra just happened to have a Swiss Army Knife and black electrical tape on hand. My favorite comment so far came from the prospector, after going farther and farther up the line looking for the problem with the cord.  He told the professor that “he shouldn’t have gotten this cheap Chinese plug.  He should have gotten an old Soviet one.  They are big and ugly and old but they are robust and work forever.” Now, I don’t know if that is opinion or fact, but it was funny enough to hear while he slowly hacked away at the plastic plug.  Whatever his opinion, I really can’t complain- I wouldn’t have charged the laptop and been able to type right now if not for his ingenuity and Sandra’s over-prepared packing!

It’s not too much longer now, before this train journey is at an end.  Before it does, I’ll leave you with something a little more practical than my silly anecdotes: a packing list for your own Ttrans-Siberian train trip.

You’ll certainly want to bring:

1. comfortable, soft, loose fitting clothes
2. small change for buying things from the grandma’s at the platform stops
3. fresh fruit, bread, cheese, and other relatively non-perishable foods
4. cup of noodles soups (there is unlimited hot water in each car. You’ll use this to drink, cook, and wash fruit and flatware.  Don’t use the water in the bathrooms for anything!!)
5. a cup or bowl, spoon, knife
6. napkins/tissues
7. babywipes
8. slippers or sandals/flip-flops
9. hand sanitizer/hand lotion
10. a good book and a pack of cards
11. a light (the lights in your rooms are turned on only after dusk, and it can get quite dim in there in the afternoon, especially on a cloudy day)
12. snacks to share with your cabin mates
13. tea (rather than try to stock up on enough bottled water to last the journey, just bring along a box of teas and enjoy the hot water on board)

Coming ’round the bend! A view of the train and countryside through my dirty window pane.

Choo-Choo-CHEERS!

 

~Aeri

now you helsinki me

07 Sep 2012 Leave a Comment

by Aeri Rose in 1001 things to do before you die, Advice, Food, Transportation, Trips Tags: , , , , , ,

I have spent the last two days exploring Helsinki. It’s been a bit slower than some of my trips, but it was exactly the speed it seems I needed to travel right now. Recognizing when you need a slow trip and when you need an active action packed trip is an important skill for a serial traveler to have. Otherwise you’ll just burn yourself out.

Though it was leisurely, it certainly wasn’t boring. I started off yesterday with a brisk walk to the historic center of town. Passing my first “tourist shop” I stopped in to have a look around and was delightfully surprised by what I saw. Finland has had a great idea! They put hand made crafts in their tourist shops. All those little hand made bags, jewelery, and funky clothes that tourists and hippies love to buy are now what tourists are forced to buy if they want to get “chintzy” souvenirs. Ok, so I did see a “magnet, bottle opener, flags and socks” kiosk a little later, but at least the majority of the shops were filled with these hand made goodies.

I spent the rest of the day taking in the main sights and getting a feel for the town, which really is beautiful. I wasn’t mislead when I claimed it was clean and green. It is! And you can even drink the water! Their tap water is more delicious than many bottled brands I’ve tried over the years, which made me all the gladder to have my reusable water bottle with me.

I lunched on smoked salmon and a reindeer sausage at a dock-side tent market, tried some linden berries, and picked up a cinnamon pastry from the Old Market House. Market Houses are great, they are usually long buildings filled with little specialty vendors selling specific things like breads, pastries, cheeses, meats, fishes, etc. You get the picture.

After lunch I bought a round trip ferry ticket to Suomenlinna Island and Sea Fortress. There was a hostel I wanted to check out there, as an option for an extra night in Helsinki, and I heard the island was pretty too.

Pretty is an understatement.  It was EXTREMELY PRETTY. But it wasn’t beautiful. Beautiful landscapes are natural and wild and chaotic. This was a naval fortress so no blade of grass wasn’t consciously planted, but where the landscapers did decide to plant was well done. The buildings were adorable and quaint. The trails were well kept, and the rocky beaches and bluffs (at least, those not adjacent to a rocky wall) were just secluded enough to let a traveler think they stumbled upon a real find. Sadly the hostel was booked full for the next night, so I couldn’t stay, but I spent most of the four hours I had left hatching plans and schemes of how and when I would get back too the island and how long I could stay. I’ve decided that I’m giving myself two years to write a full length novel, and if I haven’t done it by then than I’m moving to this beautiful peaceful manicured little homestead and staying until the book is written. I am definitely adding this place to my list of 1001 places I think you should visit. I recommend planning a ghost hunters tour.  Between the hidden glens, and dark military tunnels, this island was seething with unseen energies.

Anyway, after this very pleasant day full of walking I realized another very important thing on the boat ride back to Helsinki. Pack what you know. What I mean is this. On my Mediterranean trip last winter I packed things I thought would be a good example for other travelers: comfortable flats (chucks) and a good day bag full of zippers, pockets, and clips, newly bought from Sears for the trip. The Chucks were alright…until I lost toe nails after a long day hike in Goreme, Turkey. The bag was terrible! It split a side seam less than three days into my trip. This time I knew better. I packed things I use daily, things that have seen hard use and held up just fine, things that I was comfortable in and knew I could rely on. I packed my Medieval Moccasin shoes, closed toe high tops to be exact, and my Moresca satchel.

On my walk back to the hostel I was at loose ends. I was still pretty full from my Finnish Feast, but I wasn’t ready to go home yet. Luckily, I happened to pass by a bar I remembered being mentioned in a visitors guide provided by the hostel. The bar was called Storyville, and was the “best jazz bar in town.” And it was really pretty great. I enjoyed an amazing cider called Crowmoor that isn’t in the States yet and really should be because it was amazing. Did I mention it was great? I don’t want to be cliché and say it actually tasted like fresh sweet apples but, aw hell. It tasted like fresh sweet apples! It didn’t have that sugary tartness that promises hangovers to come the way most other ciders do. The band, yes there was a live band, wasn’t too bad either. Though I arrived to an instrumental version of Johnny Cash’s Folsom Prision.  “Its a small world after all.”

Dinner that night was a travel favorite of mine: warm soup, hard bread, and strong cheese from the market. This time it was carrot soup, a dark rye bread, and Prima Donna cheese. And a few more ciders. Aparently they love cider in Finland, because there were at least a half a dozen different brands. I might have picked up one of each to conduct a serious taste review. All in the name of travel research of course. I’ve been having a couple each night. There have been some wins and some misses. I’ll let you know the final results when I’m done.

A few minutes (well, the internet was slow so it was more like an hour and a half) spent planning the next few days, and I was ready for bed. And that was all yesterday.

Today I had plans to visit the open-air museum on another island nearby, but it was grey, cold, and raining intermittently; so I decided to check out the Finland National Museum instead. I’ll be honest, I’m pretty partial to a good history museum every once in a while. I always find something to inspire me creatively, and I learn a few cool new facts. This time my design idea was inspired by cave man wall paintings. I really like the thick white strokes and simple animal shapes. I think I’d like to experiment with painting white shapes and patterns on leather fairy clothes. My favorite fact? In the 1390′s there was a band of pirates who roved the Baltics called The Vitalians, or “The Victual Brotherhood.” I like that. I think it is a great name for a traveling foodie’s website, or a secret group of extremely severe food critics.

Anyway, by the time I was done with the museum it had cleared up outside, so I took a stroll back down to the docks, this time to buy a ferry ticket for tomorrow. I’ll be leaving Helsinki to spend a couple of days in Tallinn, Estonia. From there I’ll take the bus to St. Petersburg. In addition to adding another country to the trip, planning this little excursion in has saved me tons of money. Rather than a 150 Euro train ticket from Helsinki to St. Petersburg, and 46 Euro for two more nights at the hostel; I’ll be paying 33 Euro for a ferry ride, 17 Euro for two nights in a hostel, and 25 Euro for a bus ride. That’s almost 200 Euro plus food to stay in expensive Helsinki vs. less than 80 Euro plus food to stay in inexpensive Estonia. Yay!!

Ticket in hand, I felt that my brief yet wonderful time in Helsinki was coming to an end. I knew there was only one more thing I had to do…SAUNA!! I try to sample a country’s spa and relaxation customs whenever possible. In addition to keeping me stress free while traveling, it is a really fun way to get to know a new country. So far I’ve tried Turkish Baths, Swedish Saunas, Korean Spas, Chinese Massage, and now Finnish Saunas. I think that soon I should dedicate an entire post to spa days, but since this post is entirely too long already, I’ll just keep you in suspense.

Kippis!

 

~Aeri

PS- I’m sorry there are no pictures yet.  The internet is very slow here.

 

 

 

 

first star on the right and straight on till morning

05 Sep 2012 1 Comment

by Aeri Rose in Food, Observations, Transportation, Trips Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Last night I began my Great Railway Adventure. After a day filled with last minute errands and quickly hemmed pants, my dad and trusty airport chauffeur dropped me off at Dulles International Airport yet again- this time headed for Helsinki, Finland with a layover in Iceland. The planes were small, but I guess that’s alright considering that via Iceland, the trans-Atlantic crossing is split into two short flights.

The first flight last night was pretty. We silently glided through the darkness, with puffy white clouds below us hiding the choppy ocean waves I knew were there. The moon shown incredibly brightly in the sky, but it was not too bright to drown out the stars. I felt like I could be traveling to Neverland, following Peter’s directions: just follow the first star on the right and head straight on till morning and there adventure awaits.

The constellation Orion seemed to lead the way. I saw the full constellation out the window, just over the right wing, like I was looking straight across and not up at him like I have done from the ground so many times before. Were we equals last night, Orion and I? He seems like a good man to have in my life. He’s the only one I seem to look to for guidance, and certainly the only one I’ve chased around the world or even around the block. Aloof and unattainable, he has seen and known more than I ever will. Yet he has remained steady and controlled throughout his vast experiences, where I sometimes crave the chaos and instability that my travels offer me.

I thought I would continue this contemplation of my perfect star man, but as soon as I touch down in Helsinki I was overwhelmed by different thoughts entirely- mainly wonderful, “This is so EASY! This place is so BEAUTIFUL!” thoughts.

Because it was and it is. I landed, grabbed my backpack from the conveyor belt, and stopped by information for some directions to the Olympic Stadium, where I had reserved a bed at the hostel within- the aptly named Stadium Hostel. The bus ride was so easy that I barely had to focus on the stops and was able to let my mind wander out the window and take in the wide, amazingly clean streets of Helsinki. This was a city that was so green and blue! It was full of trees and lakes and streams. The weather was a perfect sunny 17 decrees Celsius. For 6.20 Euro I was dropped off a block away from the hostel, and the brief stroll told me that this might be called a city, but it didn’t smell or sound like one. I felt relaxed and comfortable immediately. I wasn’t overwhelmed by the stress and chaos that usually surrounds the first few moments in a new city when you’re trying to find your way to your lodging for the first time, disoriented from the loud sounds and unfamiliar landmarks and still groggy after a recent mind numbing flight.

I practically skipped through the front door of the hostel, checked in, and found my bed ready to be made up in the crisp clean white sheets I had been handed. I had so much extra energy, saved for the stressful first journey that was anything but, that I took a quick shower to wash off the last of my travel cobwebs, repacked my purse with the essentials, and hit the city streets once again.

I was in search of food. Finnish food. A quick stroll through a grocery store and I had an idea of what food prices might be like (expensive!) while I was here. I was also delightfully impressed with their large hard cider selection, a collection I shall be exploring in depth while I am here.

After wandering for a few more blocks I settled on a Nepalese restaurant, not Finnish, I know but a new cuisine none the less. It was a good decision. Nepalese coffee is AMAZING. It is everything I wanted Turkish coffee to be. It was strong and sweet and flavored with exotic spices that I couldn’t place. I think I detected cardamom, but I’m not sure what else.

Now I am back at the hostel and rapidly crashing. I think I’ll take a few moments to plan out the next few days and then I will turn in early. I was happy to find that the festival gods were favoring me again. I landed in Helsinki at the start of World Design Week 2012, celebrating Helsinki as this year’s Design Capital of the World. There will be a lot of fun, interesting and FREE things happening in the next few days. I can’t wait to find out what. When I know, you’ll know!

Cheers,

Aeri

packing version 2.0

23 Feb 2012 1 Comment

by Aeri Rose in Packing, Transportation, Trips

I know, I know. It’s been a while. I’m SORRY!!! But as soon as we got to Arizona we hit the ground running, and I’ve only now just tripped over a rock and had the chance to come to a crashing halt.

Wait, Arizona, What?

Oh right, ok, back up then.  About three weeks ago, January 27th to be precise, I left Annapolis on a circuitous road trip adventure, ending up in Apache Junction, Arizona, on February 3rd.  I headed north first, hitting my friends in Philadelphia, Nazareth, PA, and Hamlin, NY. In Hamlin I picked up a travel companion by the name of Mindy and then we headed west. Well…south west.  Making stops in Lexington, KY, and Memphis, TN, before making a mad dash west along 40 until we came sliding into Apache Junction like a baseball player stealing third.  Along the way we picked up several fantastic stories, which I will share, I promise, just not quite yet. Because before we can talk about the trip itself, we have to talk about the trip prep. Which is the real point of this post: Packing for a Road Trip.  Equally as difficult as, though much different than, packing for a crawl around Europe (see Packing with Poise).

How is it different? You may ask.

Well, road tripping around American means seeing the extremely varied countrysides our country has to offer, maybe getting accidentally or intentionally lost along winding side roads only to stumble upon fantastically quaint towns, and catching up on all the new music and NPR programs you’ve been meaning to listen to.

It can also mean spending hours on the highway stuck in the car with your traveling companions, few hostels or similarly inexpensive lodging options, and plenty of fast food temptations.  It is important to enjoy the perks and avoid the risks, so you arrive at your destination (if you have one) well rested, healthy, and happy.

Packing for a road trip is all about planning proper package placement.  Hmm, that’s some great alliteration there.  Lets go with that, here are the 4 P’s of road trip packing:

1. Plan

2. Place

3. Position

4. Prioritize

These aren’t really a step-by-step guide, but rather important guidelines to use every step of the way.

First you have to decide what you’ll need on your journey.  And that involves some pre-trip planning. Consider the trip: how far do you hope to travel each day, when and where will you stop, and where will you sleep when you do stop. Consider the destination: what activities do you need to pack for, what will the destination climate be, what will you need on the road, and what can stay packed until you arrive.

What did our road trip look like?  Well I was leaving early to visit with some friends, but ultimately the road trip west was about packing up myself and my business and heading out to the first renaissance festival of the Circuit season.  The “Circuit” is what traveling Rennies call the path one takes working one festival after another.  A “Rennie” is the nickname we traveling renaissance workers have given themselves, playing off of the slang “carnie” for carnival worker.  My Circuit starts in February in Arizona, hits Texas, New York, Pennsylvania, and ends in Maryland at the end of October.

Though I was leaving early, I had a lot of stops to hit in one week: Philadelphia, Nazareth, Hamlin, and Memphis were all must stops to visit old friends.  Lexington was thrown in as an entertaining half way between Hamlin and Memphis- a 17 hour drive otherwise.  We were shooting for driving days of 8 – 12 hours.  Good mileage without the risk of getting highway hypnosis.  For the most part we had friendly couches to sleep on each night.  But sometimes it doesn’t work that way.  So one important thing to consider before departing is your lodging options.

Will you be camping your way across the country, or are you more of a shabby wayside motel kind of traveler?  Camping can be inexpensive, with national parks coming in at around $7 – $15 a night for a campsite, and KOA’s averaging between $20 – $40 a night for a tent site, and more for an RV if you are so privileged.  However, camping can also be time consuming.  Spending time setting up and breaking down a tent each morning and evening might not be built into your schedule, if you’re in a rush to get where you’re going.  Though, if you’re in that much of a rush, maybe driving isn’t your best travel option? Planes anyone?

If you go for motels, there are plenty of options available.  Room rates tend to go up as you approach cities and towns, so sticking to obscure highway exits can be your cheapest bet.  If you’re a lone traveler, remember to trust your instincts.  If the motel seems shady, it probably is. Move on.  Also, hotels that offer continental breakfasts and other unnecessary amenities will charge you more in the room rate for that “free meal.” Think bare bones and brightly lit when picking a wayside motel for the night.

In Lexington we couch-surfed with a friendly Air Force rescue specialist and his bar-tending brother.  They showed us the town, checking out the local hot spots and their favorite spot- The Holy Grail, a renovated colonial church turned bar.

In between Memphis and Apache Junction we made a motel stop.  We gave up around hour 16 and pulled into a wayside Best Western with amazing pillows and terrible coffee.

But now it’s time to pack the car.  I realized I needed to pack for two trips: the big packing for the Circuit packing, and the little packing for the week of driving and visiting.  Into the Circuit bags went winter and summer clothes, costumes, a complete set of toiletries and lotions (Arizona is DRY!), and camping gear…for Two People! Remember my traveling mate Mindy? On top of all of that went my sewing chest and all the bolts of fabric we could cram into that little Jeep. Yup, Reincarnation Outfitters is just as mobile as their CEF (Chief Executive Fairy).  I’ll be building stock and making inventory while on my trips.

I am convinced Alice (my Jeep) has the powers of the Marry Poppins bag- there is always just enough room.  In the traveling bag went some spare clothes, a toothbrush, and my purse with the daily necessities.

Tetris for Gypsies.

But maybe your activities are different.  What will you be doing when you arrive? If there even is a final destination.  If this is your basic “make a lap o’the country” trip, than you won’t need more than some clothes and maybe some camping gear (see above).  But if this is a road trip with purpose, like mine was, than the packing list can become much more extensive.

Regardless of your activities I do recommend bringing a cooler along with you.  Fast food gets old faster than you can eat it.  It makes you feel heavy and lethargic while you drive, and can demand unplanned rest stops down the line.  Stock up on fresh fruits and veggies, bread and lunch meat, and crunchy snacks like granola and pretzels to keep you going.

So you’ve planned your trip. You’ve packed your bags with purpose.  Now it’s time to load the car.  This is where positioning and prioritization comes to play.  I’m sure you’ve all realized that it is important to pack the small week bag last, so it’s easily accessible each night.  But more than that, consider how you’ll have to unpack when you arrive.  We assumed that Mindy would need to be dropped off and set up first, since she would be camping in Arizona. She would need whatever remaining daylight we had to set up.  I would be staying in a booth with electricity (minor indulgences go a long way), so could unpack leisurely at night.  Also, the sewing stuff could stay in the car until we settled in and I had a chance to get to it.  So when we packed we packed sewing stuff first, then my gear, then Mindy’s gear.  The week bags got shoved at our feet in the front, sadly. We were that full!

Poor Alice and her poor old shocks.  She was weighted so far down that if we hit a speed bump too fast she’d scrape her tires in the wheel well.  It was a slow, delicate crawl across the country.  But crawl we did, with many a laugh and nary a flat tire to hinder our progress.

And if you’d like to hear about those laughs, you’ll have to tune in next time!

Cheers

~Aeri

 

$3,419.96

03 Jan 2012 2 Comments

by Aeri Rose in Budgets, Food, Lodging, Transportation, Trips

Yup. That’s the expense total.  On November 14, 2011 I set out to prove it was possible to travel leisurely and enjoyably for under $100 dollars a day.  This $100 a day budget was to include all transportation, lodging, food, tourism, and souvenir expenses.  Absolutely EVERYTHING.  Those of you who followed the whole trip will know, sometimes it was tough.  The average daily allowance fluctuated between the high of $100 and a low of $54.47.  Sometimes I was over budget. Sometimes I was under budget.  But not once did I pass up a tasty treat, pretty trinket, or chance for an added adventure.

I kept a tight record of my travel expenses, down to every 2 TL metro ride in Istanbul, and 5 Dinar glass of orange juice in Marrakesh.  Sometimes I felt miserly, but mostly I felt intrigued.  Would the average work out in the end? Would I come in under budget?  That Thing That Sucked Me In sucked pretty hard in Goreme, Turkey, when I bought over $300 worth of hand thrown and hand painted pottery (that included shipping, promise!).

But, I am happy to say, I DID come home under budget.  The total spent was $3,419.96.  A full $280.04 under the goal of $3,700 for a 37 day trip.  Wahoo!!!

So, what did I end up spending that money on?

- $1,590.87 was spent on transportation.  Planes, Trains (and Metros/Trams), Buses, Boats, and Camels. Still no hot air balloon though.

- $321.64 was spent on lodging.  Hostels mostly.

- $459.87 was spent on food.  This included meals, grocery store trips, snacks, and water.

- $266.64 was spent on other touristy things.  Things like museum entrance fees, my Sahara Tour, and tips for henna done by the little old ladies in Morocco.

- $780.95 was spent on souvenirs. So I like new trinkets.  I’ll say it, and I’m sure others have said it- when traveling, go ahead an splurge a little on those strange and unique things that call you in.  What are the chances you’ll be back a second time to pick it up later? Pretty slim, I’d say, so go ahead and enjoy the shopping experience.

And of course, the souvenir budget wasn’t necessary for survival, so I could have skated in almost $1,000 under budget if I wasn’t such a sucker for the rare and hand made.

Needless to say, I was pretty pleased with myself for making it home with cash to spare.  So pleased, in fact, that I decided to spend the remaining funds on a weekend trip to Philadelphia, to visit with some old friends.  I managed to squeeze that trip out for $290; which included gas ($65), theater tickets ($56), a hotel room in center city ($89), food ($50), and a night at the bars ($30).  Getting to reconnect with college friends in a new Grown-Up way- Priceless.

Though I still think I prefer the $10 student rush fill in the front row tickets over the $56 with a terrible view tickets…

Well, now I’m back home and broke, a common enough state for an artistic fairy type. Stay tuned next month for a Great American Journey. A road trip to Arizona and the beginning of a most unique and exciting adventure- the Renaissance Circuit!

Westward Ho!

~Aeri Rose

 

 

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!

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