the little tourist

愛玲的留學變成活學

2010-09-10T13:24:00.001-05:00

As my final project for my Chinese class, I did an hour-long presentation on what I learned from my travels and wrote an essay on the same topic.

The following is the culmination of nearly a year away from work, home, family and friends...only to discover a whole new kind of work, home, family and friends.

enjoying the view of Taipei

I've included the Google Translate version in case you can't read Chinese and mostly because it is hilarious.

愛玲的留學變成活學
大家好。我今天要告訴大家我這一年的旅行。介紹我看到、學到、吃到什麼。

可是這就要從我父母說起了。

我父母都在臺灣長大。他們年輕的時候移民到美國。遷到美國是為了找到更多、更好的機會。但是我的情形相反。我有機會離開美國的時候，就打算回到臺灣。因為我在美國長大，一點中文都不會說。總是因為不了解我外祖父外祖母，所以覺得很難過。打算離開美國是為了更了解我親人的文化跟我自己。我決定先存錢，等存夠了，再放棄我的工作。然後我開始準備搬家到臺灣。

這幾年我不但到臺灣，也到世界各地去旅行。我花了差不多十二個月的時間，一連去了幾個不同的國家。我第一次看到那麼多國家，吃吃看本來連看都沒看過的食物，和交了許多新朋友。

我去了希臘，義大利，西班牙，摩洛哥，菲律賓，泰國，香港，日本，斯里蘭卡，臺灣，這十個地方讓我得到更滿意的生活。這些國家教我怎麼欣賞簡單的幸福。但是各有各的教法。

我在希臘學到怎麼找到便宜的旅館，做希臘沙拉，而且欣賞歷史的美感。我上高中的時候學藝術史。以前希臘的藝術跟文化是我最喜歡的題目。可是只在課本裡看過他們的雕塑，建築物，跟藝術。不算是真的了解和欣賞他們的藝術。我在他們的寺廟的時候，一邊慢慢看，一邊了解以前人類的能力跟努力. 因為2000多年以前的人民就能建造出 the Parthenon，所以我應該能建立滿意的生活。從這兩件事情比起來，我的生活有非常簡單的感覺。

我在義大利學到怎麼收獲橄欖和曆數。一般來說，人民不知道他們的食物是從哪裡來的或是誰種的。我本來也是這樣子，可是農業的工作讓我發現我小的時候非常幸運。因為我父母有餐廳，所以我想吃什麼，就可以吃什麼。從來不必為食物工作！雖然農業很辛苦，但是那些農人教我怎麼平衡工作跟生活。我們每天日出就起床，可是到了下午就在外面吃兩個小時的午飯。再忙也會停下我們的工作，看看每天的日落。不管你正要做什麼，你也會放下手邊的事，跟大家一起欣賞日落。

我在西班牙參觀了畢加索的博物館，去了非常大、非常有名的市場，還吃了很棒的三明治，很多人說那算是世界上最好吃的三明治。巴賽羅那教我錦衣玉食的生活是怎麼樣的。以前我特別喜歡為了去很貴的餐廳花很多錢。但是因為從我離開工作開始，我沒有辦法花那麼多錢，所以我決定在巴賽羅那吃我在西班牙的最後一頓晚餐。我是跟我朋友一起去的，我們聽說那家是當地最好吃的餐廳。我們兩個都花了六千多塊台幣，四個小時，可是值得得不得了！

摩洛哥教我怎麼在沙漠騎駱駝，做摩洛哥菜，搭便車，和信心。不必有太清楚的計劃。我去摩洛哥的時候，一個計畫都沒有。沒訂旅館。不知道要去哪裡。可是我們沒有什麼問題。每天找得到地方可以去，也找得到床可以睡覺。發現我不必像以前那樣著急。花了再多時間準備跟擬定計畫，也可能沒辦法實行。

我在泰國學到怎麼吃辣得要命的菜。還學到怎麼忍受有不同習慣的朋友。我跟不太好相處的朋友一起去旅行。我覺得花時間跟有一點討厭的人相處，對你的心很健康。他們教我怎麼適應新情況，跟欣賞每一種人。對我來說，這樣的態度很重要。

菲律賓教我怎麼好好地玩。我在森林，海洋，瀑布，山丘，河流，和山洞玩，美不勝收。

香港教會我吃豬肉。

日本讓我知道簡單的好處。雖然大部分的他們的食物，寺廟，國家公園，跟藝術都又簡單又秀氣，可是還很迷人。日本也讓我明白忠誠。我在大阪看了一場棒球賽。我跟我朋友一起在看台上給他們加油。那天大阪的棒球隊沒得到分，而且他們的投手一連投了好幾個壞球。但是因為他們的拉拉隊很興奮，也有團隊精神，所以他們出了風頭。對方贏了，可是球賽還是精彩得沒話說！如果大家有機會去日本，非去大阪的棒球賽不可。

在斯里蘭卡我學會了怎麼放鬆。以前我在美國作公關的時候，我對我的外表很重視。我寧可死了，也不能不修邊幅！但是現在如果沒辦法天天洗澡，我不會生氣。現在我不怕髒髒的東西。我什麼都可以吃喝。斯里蘭卡人不用刀叉。只用他們的手吃。他們也把食物放在廢紙裡面。他們不用乾淨的盒子還是袋子。用已經用過一次的紙，好像小朋友的工作，成績單，或是舊單子，什麼的。

我以為我來臺灣是為了學中文，沒想到我會學到那麼多東西。台北不但讓我學會怎麼寫、念中文，還讓我學到什麼對我來說是理想的生活。應該由自己來決定要選哪種生活，所以每天都變成一種新的冒險。

我在臺灣也發現了我愛大自然的一面。在臺灣開始爬山跟攀岩。沒想到我有力氣做這些運動。原來我也很怕說中文，可是現在差不多會了！本來沒想到我有足夠的力量，可是現在我證明了自己的力量。

我還不太會說中文，可是我學會怎麼旅行。好好地旅行，不管你有多少錢或是有機會去哪個國家。能不能好好地旅行，要看你的想法。本來我打算去旅行是因為我喜歡吃吃看新東西，欣賞藝術跟風景，可是現在我覺得對我來說旅行的最重要的好處並不是這些簡單的東西。是為了得到更好的想法。

我小的時候很容易迷路，而且對我來說地圖很難了解。去了十個國家，才終於發現迷路也沒什麼關係。有的時候你得先迷路，才可以找到新東西。我旅行的時候，有好多次我在陌生的地方走來走去，忽然看到特別的市場還是非常漂亮的風景。

當然我還是愛到國外去旅行。但是如果我要得到新經驗，不必遨遊到很遠的地方。不管你在海平面底下18公尺潛水，爬3952公尺的山或是留在家裡，只要有好奇心，注意、欣賞你的環境就可以感覺到。一定要用觀光客的眼睛來看一切東西。現在我回國以後，不管我看超級市場，郵局，或是辦公大樓，都應該像博物館，玉山，或是日落那樣美麗。

Ai Ling's study abroad is a life study

Hello, everybody. I am going to tell you that I travel this year. Introduced me to see, learn, eat anything.

But this from my parents talking about the.

My parents grew up in Taiwan. When they were young to emigrate to the United States. Moved to the United States is to find more and better opportunities. However, the opposite of my situation. I have the opportunity to leave when the United States, it intends to return to Taiwan. Because I grew up in the United States, some Chinese language will not say. Grandfather grandmother always because I do not know, so I find it very sad. Intend to leave the United States in order to better understand the culture of my family with me. I decided to save money, save up, and then give up my job. Then I began to prepare to move into Taiwan.

In recent years I not only to Taiwan but also to travel around the world. I spent almost 10 months time series to several different countries. The first time I saw so many countries, originally did not even try it saw food, and made many new friends.

I went to Greece, Italy, Spain, Morocco, Philippines, Thailand, Hong Kong, Japan, Sri Lanka, Taiwan, the place for me to get ten more satisfied with life. Teach me how to appreciate them simple happiness. However, each have their own teachings.

I learned how to find cheap in Greece, hotels, make Greek salad, and enjoy the beauty of history. When in high school I studied art history. Former Greek art and culture is my favorite subject. However, seen only in textbooks of their sculptures, buildings, with the arts. Not a true understanding and appreciation of their artistic. My time in their temples, while slowly, watch and learn with the previous capacity of human effort. Because 2000 years ago people could build out the Parthenon, so I should be able to build a satisfactory life. Ratio of these two things together, I feel life is very simple.

I learned how harvest olives in Italy and enumerate. In general, people do not know their food came from or who species. I was also like this, but I found work in agriculture when I was very lucky. Because my parents have restaurants, so I want to eat anything, you can eat. Never need to work for the food! Although agriculture is very hard, but those farmers who taught me how to balance work with life. We got up at sunrise every day, but in the afternoon on a two-hour lunch to eat outside. No matter how busy will stop our work and see the sunset every day. No matter what you are to do, you will put aside the matter with everyone enjoy the sunset.

I visited the Picasso museum in Spain to a very large, very well-known market, but also eat a great sandwich, a lot of people say that it considered the world's most delicious sandwiches. Silk clothing Yushi Barcelona taught me how life is like. Before I like to go to expensive restaurants spend a lot of money. But because I left work from the beginning, I can not spend so much money, so I decided to eat in Barcelona in Spain, my last dinner. I go with my friends, we heard that home is the best local restaurant to eat. We both spent more than six thousand NT dollars, four hours, but incredibly worthwhile!

Morocco taught me how to ride camels in the desert, so Moroccan, free riding, and confidence. Do not have a very clear plan. When I went to Morocco, a project no. No hotel bookings. Do not know are going. But we do not have any problems. Find places to go every day, but also find bed to sleep. Find that I do not worry, as before. It took more time to prepare with a plan, it may not get implemented.

I learned how spicy Thai dishes to pieces. Also learned how to endure different habits friend. I live with is not very good friends to travel together. I feel a bit annoying to spend time with people who get along very healthy for your heart. They taught me how to adapt to new circumstances, with the appreciation of each person. To me, this attitude is very important.

Philippines taught me how to play properly. I am in the forest, ocean, waterfalls, hills, rivers, and caves to play, beautiful.

Hong Kong taught me to eat pork.

Japan let me know the benefits of simple. Although most of their food, temples, national parks, with the arts are another delicate and simple, but very charming. I understand loyalty to Japan. I watched a baseball game in Osaka. I told my friends in the stands to give them fuel. Osaka's baseball team that day did not get points, and their pitcher to vote several consecutive balls. But because their fans are excited, but also team spirit, so they out of the limelight. The other side won, but the match was brilliant too impress! If you have the opportunity to go to Japan, baseball is not to go to Osaka.

In Sri Lanka, I learned how to relax. I used to make public relations in the United States, I very much attention to my appearance. I would rather die, not slovenly! But now, if can not take a bath every day,
I will not get angry. Now I do not Pazang dirty things. What can I eat and drink. Sri Lanka do not need knives and forks. Only eat with their hands. They also put food on the paper inside. They do not clean the box or the bag. Has been used with a sheet of paper, like the children's work, transcripts, or the old list, whatever.

I thought I came to Taiwan to study Chinese, did not think I would learn so many things. Taipei is not only taught me how to write, read Chinese, but also what I learned for me is the ideal life. Should be to decide which to choose life, so every day into a new adventure.

I also found in Taiwan, I love natural beauty. Mountain climbing with climbing in Taiwan began. Did not think I have the strength to do the exercises. Originally, I was afraid to speak Chinese, but now almost be it! Originally did not think I have enough strength, but now I have to prove their strength.

I also do not speak Chinese, but I learned how to travel. Good to travel, no matter how much money you have the opportunity to go to any country or. Will you take to travel, to see what you think. I intended to travel because I like to eat new things to see and enjoy the art and scenery, but now I think for me the most important benefits of travel is not such a simple thing. The idea is to get better.

When I was small I can easily get lost, and the map is difficult for me to understand. Went to 10 countries, it has nothing to do with finally found lost. Sometimes you have to get lost before they can find something new. When I travel, there are times I walk around in a strange place, suddenly see the particular market is still very beautiful scenery.

Of course I still love to travel abroad. But if I want to be a new experience, do not travel to far away. Whether you are 18 meters under sea level scuba diving, mountain climbing 3952 meters, or stay at home, as long as curiosity, attention, appreciation of your environment can be felt. Must use the eyes of tourists look at everything. I returned home, whatever I see in supermarkets, post offices, or office buildings, should be like a museum, Yushan, or as a beautiful sunset.

"Kandy is Dandy But Liquor Is Quicker" -W. Wonka

2010-07-20T12:15:00.002-05:00

I can't believe how much Kandy we crammed into just two days!

1. Went for a run around the lake. My second time around I noticed so much more (plants, animals, men bathing)! Just shows you how important it is to take a closer look at things. There is so much to gain just by paying a little more attention. Saw turtles, giant crocodile-sized iguanas, ducks, so many kinds of birds, snails the size of my fist and a monkey riot! There were over two dozen jumping on cars and causing an awesome raucous. It felt like Kenmore Square after the Red Sox won in 2004.

2. Temple of the Tooth: The sacred relic was obtained from the sandalwood pyre in which the Buddha was cremated. It has a long history in Sri Lanka, before it arrived in its current resting place in Kandy. My favorite part was actually the story of Raja the Maligawa Tusker, whose body was taxidermied and has its own little shrine on the temple grounds. Apparently when the elephant came across the sacred tooth relic, he kneeled down as if to pay his respects. From then on it was his and only his privilege and duty to transport the tooth as it traveled from town to town.

3. Hit the shops: included tea, scarves and spices. Some awesome finds! Thank goodness for our Sri Lankan hosts and "local" prices.

4. Tea plantation. I never realized how tiny the actual usable part of the plant is. What tedious work to harvest! I'll have to remember this the next time I enjoy a nice cup of tea.

5. Drive through the hills above Kandy. The light was gorgeous! Views that help you understand where cliches such as "breath-taking" and "awe-inspiring" come from.

6. Drive through downtown Kandy in a trishaw. Makes you realize where cliches such as "death-defying" and "scared shitless" come from.

7. Traditional Kandyan dance show. Interesting costumes, fun instruments, fire dancing, hot coal walking.

8. Hiked around rock caves and giant rock of Sigiriya, home to a monastery in 1-2 centuries BC and then the palace/fortress of King Kassapa later on (plus his hundreds of mistresses).

9. Several quick, drive-by views and activities on our way back to Kandy from Sigiriya. Wood carving workshop, Golden Temple at Dambulla, fruit stand where I tried bale fruit, "Ayurvedic" (legitimacy of this place questionable) spice garden tour (aka the place where I was offered "a full body massage, ma'am"), Aluvihara rock cave temple in Matale, Hindu temple in Matale.

10. The food: bittu (rice-shaped noodles made of coconut and flour), more curries of course, egg hopper (an egg fried inside one of those thin crepe bowls), egg roti, parata.

11. Drinks with cast and crew of Sri Lankan cricket film at Queen's Hotel. Met the Sinhalese voice behind Antonio the mouse on "Tom & Jerry." He's also guest-voiced for a few villains on "Scooby Doo!"

12. Three-hour dance party in room nine at Devon Hotel to send me off properly for my 2 a.m. solo ride to the Colombo airport.

13. The next time I'm given the opportunity to take a risk and embrace spontaneity, I hope I will always remember this trip. It doesn't have to mean spending a month's worth of income on a plane ticket across the world, but I'm glad this time it did.

Training it in Sri Lanka

2010-07-18T10:54:00.001-05:00

We opted to take the train for the six-plus hour ride from Hikkaduwa to Kandy as I heard it was "unreliable" and was looking for the adventure of a scenic train ride and the good photos that would inevitably result. We were not disappointed.

1. Sri Lanka is truly beautiful. At times the tracks ran parallel to the palm tree-lined Indian Ocean -- so close that it felt like we could graze the waves with our fingertips. At times verdant and lush. At times embelished with dilapidated shacks and bony cows instead of the waves and palm trees.

2. Train snacks. Our lovely Sri Lankan hosts treated us to a number of goodies from the peddlers passing through the aisles. Lentil fritters. Spongy, coconut oil bread. Corn on the cob.

3. The cars got so packed that men were literally dangling off the side of the trains for hours. As every banana leaf, sign post and tree branch whizzed by, I held my breath and sighed with relief upon confirmation that our side door friends' limbs were still all intact.

4. For the second half of the ride, two goofy Brits were forced to cram into seats directly across from us. They were impossibly chatty and I would say obnoxious if I didn't find them so endearing in the most tremendously entertaining way. It was like watching a three-hour spin-off of "The Office" that involved a pair of young med students lost in Sri Lanka instead of employees at Wernham Hogg. My dear friend Candice did not agree, but she also admitted that she hates British comedy.

5. Inspired by the dangling man, I too hung from the side of the moving train for a bit...just for fun. And it was!

Hikkaduwa: Food...and other things that happened

2010-07-17T21:16:00.003-05:00

Sunday is market day in Hikkaduwa, and lucky for me, our guest house is a one-minute walk down the railroad tracks to this amazing temple to all things delicious in this town.

I know this may sounds sacrilegious and gluttonous to many, but the same reverence and love people sometimes reserve for their faith, I hold for food. Especially when I'm traveling, I regard every meal as this sacred, precious moment in my life to experience a new flavor in someone else's culture -- to appreciate and savor all the time and labor sacrificed by farmers, traders, cooks and everyone else in between that made this dish possible.

My mother (no joke) told me recently that love always changes in a relationship. I have to remember that it's temporary and can disappear as quickly as it manifests itself. But my stomach will always be hungry -- this I can count on. I must find a man who knows how to eat like I do, so we can happily share meals together every day.

So when I stumble across markets like this one in Sri Lanka, it's like finding this special place of worship -- an edible holy grail. I love the opressive heat, the dust, the smells of ripe fruit and exotic spices, the frantic yelling in Sinhalese, the fresh piles of produce and unfamiliar sweets, the chaos!

I spent less than a couple US dollars total and come away with a 100-piece bag of "honey corn" cookies (orange, cone-shaped pastry filled with basically pure sugar...the filling has this nice grainy honey texture but is unbearably sweet); a bunch of adorable, little bananas (apparently there are over 60 varieties of bananas in this country!); and five small packets of spices.

Other notable happenings in Hikkaduwa:

1. Afternoon of splashing in the ocean, playing in the sand, and starting an in-the-water beach brawl among a dozen Sri Lankan teenagers and 20-somethings. Punches were thrown. Bodies slammed into the water. We later realized our snorkeling guides were defending our honor after one of the opposing group of drunken drum circle boys rather inappropriately groped me underwater and then asked in Sinhalese how much I cost to rent. Have never witnessed such a dramatic display of misogyny and chivalry all at once.

2. Refreshing downpour during our snorkel. Beautiful. Saw a big turtle! Got a sea cucumber shoved in my hand. Dazzled by fat, neon fish.

3. Food. Glorious food! Crazy spicy, incredibly flavorful, veggie curries with rice. Coconut sambal. Dal. Green beans. Cabbage salad. Coconut roti. Veggie stir fries and omelets. Papadum. Cucumber and tomato salad seasoned with lime (fresh from the backyard!). Papaya smoothies (also from the backyard!). Milk Ceylon tea. Coconut water.

Everything here is infused with coconut, and from this day forward I would like to infuse my entire life with coconut.

4. The family who runs the guest house (Star Holiday) is lovely. We flip through wedding albums. Discuss the 30-year history of the place. Inquire (without success) about favorite Sri Lankan specialties...after much discussion between the wife and her mother-in-law, they turn to us in English with only these words: "Watermelon. Yes, or Cucumber."

5. The mom, wife of the late owner of the establishment who passed away last year, cooks our meals, and she seasons each entree with the love only a mother could possess. Her dal curry is the best of the trip thus far.

Colombo: The Yang to Yesterday's Yin

2010-07-16T12:39:00.001-05:00

I am a drama queen.

I'm finally OK accepting that about myself. The drama tests me and keeps things interesting. I look back at my childhood and appreciate all the conflict because it helped me grow. Now, because I know the drama of life can't be avoided, I almost relish it...every problem or awkward situation is a new opportunity to watch how I internalize discomfort.

And it's getting to be quite comfortable.

After what was a pretty unstable upbringing, there's a balance of conflict and resolution and of sadness and happiness that I'm slowly understanding more and more. I needed that dark period to be able to enjoy the lightness of my life today.

My dear friend and current travel companion Candice put it beautifully when she described the contrast of our first two days in Sri Lanka: "I don't think we could have appreciated today without yesterday."

"Yesterday" being filled with drama, stress and general feelings of unease, and "today" being perfection. Here is why:

1. Breakfast of string hoppers (noodles made of rice or flour and formed into floppy, thin disks), curry, veggie and fish roti, samosas, stir fried rice. The flavors here are so intense. A very heavy hand used with salt and all these amazing spices.

2. My friend's friend's Sri Lankan friend arrived from Dubai and gave a wonderful tour of places of worship in Colombo (with almost every major Sri Lankan religious temple represented with the ironic exception of a mosque as most of the group is Muslim). The highlight for me was the Gangaramaya Buddhist Temple. We even saw a Protestant church!

Fun fact: Telling of what a big part of the culture the diversity of religions is here, the Sri Lankan flag is made up of three blocks of colors -- green, saffron and crimson, which represent Islam, Tamil and other minor religious and ethnic groups respectively. Buddhism, the country's major religion, is represented by the four leaves of the Bodhi Tree.

3. Stroll through the beach. Admire Indian Ocean and a mix of adoring and angry looking couples under umbrellas.

4. Went for a lounge around and a dip in the hotel pool.

5. Dinner of Kottu Roti, which are chewy noodles made of sliced roti. The fast paced chopping is so rhythmic and entertaining -- it is the most musical meal I've ever seen prepared.

6. Hit the clubs. My travel buddies are an incredibly dynamic, thoughtful and fun bunch. They also hang with fro-yo shop tycoons and Sri Lankan American rappers. I'm not cool enough to have heard of the rapper guy, who is now apparently starring in a Sinhalese movie about cricket. However, I was very familiar with the fro-yo shop...wonder what that says about me.

I later found out that the rapper was trying to take advantage of me the whole night. Neat, right? Maybe I could have morally compromised myself into the next music video.

Brokedown Palace Meets Little Miss Sunshine, But in Sri Lanka

2010-07-15T01:26:00.000-05:00

There is a jangling, stomping, raucous, all-male, sing-along, dance party taking place outside my room right now. The entire local police force is out there celebrating. Most of my travel mates are all passed out in the adjoining room in a drug-induced stupor. I am taking it easy as well, writing in my journal, as my face just almost got eaten by a me-sized German Shepperd.

Let's start from the beginning though.

Picked up at the airport in Colombo, Sri Lanka: 7:15 a.m.
Two little Taiwanese/Chinese American girls, one Indian American girl, two Sri Lankan men. One van. Most of us strangers prior to this meeting.
Head to YMCA, where one of the guy's friends works in a restaurant. Eat some delicious dal curry with other delicious, goopy piles of yummy spiced things. Plus a giant block of congealed coconut rice.
Drive around forever in search of a hotel.
Super sketchy drug deal takes place (why does this always seem to happen to me when traveling with a bunch of people I don't know so well?). I guess I don't have any experience in this department, but this did seem extra shady even for a drug deal. There was a lot of driving in circles and strange men jumping in and out of the van. We did get to see some interesting part of Colombo, and it was a new cultural experience!
Finally arrive in Jayawardenapura (about an hour from Colombo) and settle into a random guest house.
While others get high back at the hotel, I instead, of course, go eat! Veggie rotis, veggie samosas, more dal curry, hopper (thin, spongy bowl-shaped crepe), crazy sweet milk tea, smoothies from "The Juice King" made from fresh papaya and one with wood apple (tastes like a pear-flavored fruit leather). This small village is about two blocks, so we've already visited almost every eating establishment on the main street.
On the back deck of the guest house, we befriend a Nigerian man who lives in Cambodia, and I listen in as my friend and he discuss the international jewel business. I admire the sporadic way fireflies reveal themselves and then instantly disappear into the night. Sometimes I wish I could do the same.
We are offered a few plates (boiled cassava, cucumber/tomato/onion salad, apples with salt and pepper) from the banquet occurring at the table beside ours. These are the local police. They are celebrating someone's recent promotion on the force. What an interesting coincidence that we all seem to be collected in this same place this evening. The recreational drug-users of the group found this less amusing.
We were invited into the guest house manager's home, where we awkwardly made conversation with his mother-in-law and were introduced to his adorable giant two dogs. The German Shepperd and I decided it would be a good idea to get into a head-butt contest. He won, his head being literally twice the size of mine. Tiny gash on my forehead and cut on my lip resulted in a hilariously, over-dramatic looking, blood bath on my face and hands.
All in all, a fun first day in Sri Lanka!

At the Low Cost Carrier Terminal

2010-07-14T01:08:00.000-05:00

My trip is starting out with a 10-hour vacation inside the LCCT in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. After what for no good reason at all has felt like a mildly emotionally tumultuous few weeks, this feels like a sort of cleanse to start my new adventure.

I had an onion paratha. Two bottles of soy milk. Read a book and subsequently was inspired to have a long, thoughtful conversation with myself about death.

Originally I was a bit anxious about the prospect of spending a night alone at the airport...and not even the nice one. This is where the poor people go, as my Malaysian friend reminded me many times during the past two days since I first booked these tickets. And "it's where...you know (in a whisper)...like a lot of people immigrate in from."

While I still have five hours to go (still ample time for abduction!), I'm actually really enjoying the experience. The solitude amongst a crowd of strangers. There's a kind of quiet sadness to the veiled women hunched over in uncomfortable slumber over their luggage and the consistent whirling by of janitorial carts, manned by attendants veiled not with burkas but with a sort of desperate, sleepy fog. Maybe it's my exhaustion or the fact that I just spent hours starting and finishing a book in the gift shop about learning to live through learning to die, but I think there's something kind of beautiful about this experience.

I look around and see people from all over the world, and...

...oh! we just got kicked out because they need to conduct pest control in the airport for the next three hours. I did, however, just landed myself a cozy spot between three Indonesians, who gave me an apple and took my photo, as well as a white guy, who looks a few moves away from finishing his rubik's cube.

Anyway, it's pretty amazing having all these very different people out here...heading to very different places...in very different life moments, but we're all huddled together outside this airport in Kuala Lumpur for this one night for the same reason -- just waiting for the next life moment on the other side of this next plane ride.

And, of course, because we're all too cheap to get a hotel for the night.

Travel Notes: Eating and Walking Hong Kong

2010-06-14T13:30:00.002-05:00

Sooo...I meant to write something about this trip months ago, but now here I am...having just returned from another trip (to Japan) and now already planning the next one.

Luckily, this was an extremely memorable yet ridiculously simple weekend in one of Asia's food capitals (I still stand by the fact that Taipei wins as number ONE though), which can basically be summed up as just eating followed by walking...followed by more eating and then more walking. With little time for digestion as there was actually often simultaneous eating AND walking.

Some highlights:

My dear friend Mike's birthday meal/our first meal in Hong Kong/duck fat! Mmm.

Late night walk to the Star Ferry for a view of the very dazzling, very 80s HK skyline.

Pork bun treat!

Followed by more walking around in search of pork buns.

Followed by eating more pork buns.

Walking around The Peak. Pretty!

Walking around Repulse Bay. More pretty!

Lunch at the American Restaurant, which was named to attract American sailors when it opened right after WWII. So, I figured it only made sense to bring my American sailor, right?

Walking around Hong Kong Park. Turtles and birds!

Massive HK$860 meal at Yung Kee.

Stroll through the markets.

Another walk, another park. Flamingoes at Kowloon.

A proper farewell to our eating/walking tour of Hong Kong. Dim sum at Maxim's.

Tourist Eyes

2010-04-17T04:26:00.001-05:00

I’ve been fortunate enough to have nearly a dozen people stay at my place over the past months – playing hostess in a land that is still rather unfamiliar to me.

However, I’ve been in Taipei just long enough to have it sort of feel like home and to start getting antsy to move on to the next place. Struggling to decide how much longer I want this place to be my home. As I’ve settled in, my eyes have grown a little duller and less curious, so I love the idea of seeing this place with fresh eyes again. In a new light.

There’s nothing like seeing the world as a tourist.

You look at everything a little closer. You taste everything a little more intensely.

In general, you just pay more attention. There’s something very zen about this that I like.

I hate the way we often say the word “tourist” with such disdain (but I guess I’m biased having named this site after it). I met a guy in Florence who made a huge fuss about only traveling like a local (I get that part; that makes sense) but refused to do any of the “touristy” things…like go to museums and cathedrals.

Seriously? How can you say you’ve experienced a place like Florence without stepping into one museum or cathedral?

I say embrace the tourist experience – whether you’re traveling or not. Order everything off the menu just to try it once. Take super long walks. Stare thoughtfully at things like tall buildings, mountains and interesting looking people. Absorb all you see with the same intention and awe you would devote to a work of art at the Louvre or the view from the top of the Empire State Building.

My latest travel companion made a comment on our plane ride to Hong Kong that has helped me smile every time I’ve looked up at the past week of overcast, drizzly Taipei sky.

We were flying in a sunny patch above a thick layer of those fluffy, rich clouds that always make me hungry for an English trifle when he noted how funny it is that it’s actually always this sunny out…everyday….everywhere. Sometimes we just forget because there are clouds in our way.

What a very simple, beautiful idea – and coming from the most cynical guy I know. I doubt this yuppie-banker-type would have made such a crunchy-yoga-instructor-kind-of-observation while sitting in a windowless office cube.

But getting out and traveling does weird things to people.

So, like every visitor I’ve had, he’s helped me see my life in Taipei in a new light…even despite the clouds.

Happy Taiwanese Music

2010-03-04T03:16:00.003-06:00

Maybe I've already been here too long, but I think this is the best thing ever.

A Thought (and Many Words) on Expectation and Travel

2010-03-01T14:08:00.003-06:00

So I recently returned from a trip to the Philippines. With every new plane I board, I find myself flying further and further away from the girl who left Boston back in September. My dear friend Julie and I bought our round-trip tickets from Taipei to Manila a month ago, but we had planned absolutely nothing else in between these destinations.

We arrived in the middle of the night Feb. 16. Slept at the airport. And walked into a beautiful Filipino 7 a.m. sunshine with only the weight of our little backpacks and the bright, shiny feeling of freedom and optimism that comes with being in a foreign country with no plans. We literally did not know our next step until we planted one foot in front of the other.

I thought that with such little expectation, there would be no room for disappointment. However, poor planning (or nonexistent in our case) is not the same as being void of expectation. You can't escape expectations.

I had this postcard image in my head of a palm tree-lined beach along a clear blue ocean that we had seen when we arrived in Manila (and promptly booked our next flight to said beach shortly thereafter).

My mind never ventured to what lay beyond the sand in the photograph, and I found myself extremely bummed the first days beach bumming through Boracay. It was such a mecca for mediocre food, beach-side tattoos and hair-braiding, drunk men using the ocean as a giant public urinal, and rows full of stalls peddling Boracay-labeled trinkets -- not the off-the-beaten path adventure I had hoped for.

I'm reading Alain de Botton's The Art of Travel, and I love how he describes his personal experience with this phenomena during a trip to Barbados:

"Nothing was as I had imagined it, which is surprising only if one considers what I had imagined. In the preceding weeks, my thoughts of the island had circled exclusively around three immobile mental images, assembled during the reading of a brochure and an airline timetable...If pressed, I would naturally have recognized that the island had to include other elements, but I had not needed them in order to build an impression of it."

But for me everything changed when we accidentally wandered into a cemetery in the mountains. There were stone coffins/tombstones seemingly haphazardly stacked atop one another. We realized that one of the young women buried in front of us was born just a few months after me. She died at 16.

Suddenly I felt so ungrateful and selfish for coming to this girl's home (it really looked just like the paradise pictures had advertised) and not appreciating it for everything that it was and might have been for her had she lived long enough to see me face to face that day.

I thought about all the experiences I would have missed if I hadn't made it past 16 -- how small my world was then and how little hope I had for my future around that time.

In just the 10 days we spent in the Philippines, there really was so much to experience and so many new things to see:

became a certified scuba diver
danced alongside posh Brazilian models in Manila
got attacked by a family of jellyfish in Moalboal
sang love songs over the intercom system to a plane full of Cebu Pacific passengers
ate chicken fetuses
swam under waterfalls in Kawasan
hiked in dark caves alongside baby bats and alien spiders
ate a cheese popsicle
met tarsiers in Loboc
slept in the jungle and showered with big lizards
pet the tiniest goat I have ever seen and admired Chocolate Hills in Bohol
...while all along the way getting to know this amazing new friend who lived an ocean away from me only months before.

Boton quotes J.K. Huysman's 1884 novel A Rebours (while discussing the protagonist's ambivalence toward traveling to faraway destinations): "the imagination could provide a more-than-adequate substitute for the vulgar reality of actual experience." But what would the point of travel be if everything always came as expected? Isn't that the whole idea of an adventure?

Thanks to Julie, Boton, Huysman, that 16-year-old girl, and many other friends made along the way, I had an amazingly unexpected voyage to the Philippines and am loving the vulgar reality of actual experience.

Fun Thai-mes in Thailand

2010-02-16T03:59:00.004-06:00

I recently booked a spontaneous trip to Thailand with a few schoolmates. One of our friends is returning to Pattaya, his home for the last seven years, and invited us over for a week of good eating, sun-bathing, boozing, general Thai-themed shenanigans, and a nice place to stay.

While it's been an interesting learning experience as far as traveling with four people you've only known for two-months or less (and who have completely opposite personalities...we've all admitted that we would not likely have become friends under different circumstances. It's like bad reality TV.), the trip has certainly not disappointed as far as the above criteria go. The highlights:

Good Eating
Of course, always a must!

Soups, always spicy: Lots of duck and pork noodle soups with more chili than I've probably consumed in the last year put together. Best tom yum kung and tom kha kai ever. Thais do such an amazing job combining salty, sweet, spicy, sour. Also firmly believe you can't go wrong with kaffir lime and coconut milk.

So much street food (and by street sometimes I mean beach): pad thai, papaya salad, fried taro/tofu/corn, meringue cookies topped with shaved egg yolk, grilled/dried squid, roasted chicken.

Giant black scorpions!

Such fresh seafood (there is something so beautiful about eating decadent seafood meals while staring out at the ocean): lemon whole fish, crab, prawns, scallop salads

Western food: I'm staying at a Swiss guy's house, so there's also been a fair share of steak and potatoes and tons of cheese plates with Parma ham and this special cured beef found in the mountains of Switzerland.

Sun Bathing

Spent a night on the island of Koh Samet. Soft white sand. Clear water. Coconut in hand. Bliss.

Boozing

Not my favorite part of the trip. Although, it consumed such a large part of the itinerary that I felt it deserved its own bullet point.

General Thai-Themed Shenanigans

Rode on traditional motorized Bangkok bike/carriage taxis called "tuk tuks"
Picked up a backpacker on the boat back from Koh Samet and brought him to our friend's place in Pattaya. Showed him (yes, I quote) "one of the most interesting nights of my life."
Women bathing in the middle of a bar. Oh, nightlife in Thailand.
Ping pong show. Because I have younger siblings with access to this blog, I'll just say there were ping pong balls, needles and balloons involved.
Purchased my entire spring/summer wardrobe at a traditional market. 6 shirts. 2 dresses. $30USD.
Tried to play polo, which mainly means riding in very slow circles on a horse while trying not to fall off.

Got in a motorcycle accident with a goofy-looking, stupid-hat-wearing, angry, Russian man on a four wheeler. Walked away with a small bruise/scar on my neck that looks like a hickey. Lame.

Dipped my feet in a fish tank to have my dead skin snacked on by Garra Rufa or "Doctor Fish." Fish=full. Feet=soft. Win-win.

Nice Place to Stay

My friend lives in what is pretty much the Playboy mansion of Thailand (complete with stocked bar, nightclub, stripper poles, cigar room, multiple hot tubs, recording studio, theater, bowling alley, ocean view and nice Thai ladies bringing you fresh towels).
Such a change of pace from the hostel travel I'd become accustomed to.
No complaints.

I'm a Lost Girl.

2010-01-20T21:29:00.002-06:00

My first post as a Lost Girl is up! Check it out here: "What Not to Pack: Five Items to Leave Behind."

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments section over there!

Why this Year is Already Better Than Last

2010-01-11T11:48:00.007-06:00

I hope the next 50 weeks will be as good as the first two.

1. My Debut as a World Class Pillow Fighter on Taiwanese News.
I spent the first Saturday of the year outside Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall with hundreds of other pillow-wielding, flash-mobbery enthusiasts. Twenty out-of-breath, laughing-'til-your-abs-are-sore, joyfully-chaotic-hysterically-juvenile minutes of pillow fighting until the cops shut us down.

Plus, there were people wearing helmets. I love quirks like this that are "so Taiwan."

Here's the video of the news clip. You'll find me getting bashed in the head by my friend Jim at around 0:13. Sweet revenge comes at around 0:31 though.

2. I Ate Bees...On Purpose.
I went to WuLai over the weekend with some friends, and, among many other exciting adventures, we ate at Taiya Po Po, which was featured on "Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern" for its authentic aboriginal cuisine.

I don't know why, but I was a little surprised when our plate of fried bees arrived at the table. I felt like, "Hmm...wow...those really look like bees. I'm about to eat a bug." Anyway, the dish was really tasty. A little too oily, but the crunch of the bees complimented the greens and the refreshing spice from the red chili peppers.

Highlights from the trip also included wild mountain boar sausage, bamboo tube rice, wild mountain yam soup, fermented pork, sesame oil betel nut salad, sugar cane juice, preserved eggs. We also rode a cable care through the air up a mountain and saw the highest water fall in Taiwan.

More photos here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/thelittletourist/sets/72157623189269842/.

3. Diving Right In
I'm already one step closer to my New Year's resolution of learning to scuba dive with my dear friend Julie. Tickets purchased for the Philippines Feb. 17-26.

4. It's A Good Time To Make Babies...Or Die.

I recently purchased a tiny scroll of paper from a fortune telling machine for $10NT. I had to have my Chinese teacher translate it for me, but apparently my near future is looking very peaceful and calm. The fam is happy and healthy.

If I become a fisherman, I will make money. If I become a farmer, I will not make money. If I become a businesswoman, I will make money.

It's a good time to make babies. If I get pregnant, I will have a boy.

It's a good time to die. If I die, I will have a nice burial.

5. Come Ride with Me!
I have visitors lined up to come starting next month, every month, all the way until summer! Hooray! Reserve your spot soon if you'd like a room at "旅館愛鈴" or "lǚguǎn ài líng" or "hotel ashley."

Resolve in the New Year

2010-01-01T13:54:00.001-06:00

It's still New Year's Day back in the States, so I feel like I'm not quite too late to be posting New Year's resolutions. 2009 was a big year for me, so I have high hopes for 2010. A few goals (not necessarily in chronological order):

1. Speak Mandarin.
2. Buy a bike.
3. Learn to bike.
4. Ride my bike across Taiwan.
5. Practice > 365 hours of yoga.
6. Pay more attention (to my surroundings, my loved ones and the environment).
7. Never stop surprising myself.
8. Travel to India.
9. Climb up things (like rocks). Dive into things (like oceans). Walk up things (like mountains and 101-floored skyscrapers).
10. Make someone else's life better.

I've had a lot of time to reflect on this past year, and I realize that it was a huge opportunity for personal growth. I think 2008 me would barely recognize 2009 me. These past 12 months I focused a lot on myself and tried to figure out what I needed to be happy, which I think is important. However, this also meant it was a year of selfishness and narcissism. Since I'm still in my "early twenties," I think that's OK.

But now that I'm quickly approaching "mid twenties," I think I should change that. If I fail at all of my resolutions over the next year, I hope that I will at least keep in mind the last.

Yoga Competition...?

2009-12-26T07:41:00.000-06:00

Yoga and competition are not two words that I usually find in the same sentence. Somehow I've found myself standing at the corner of this exact intersection, anxiously awaiting for each to collide come January 15.

Let me explain.

Yesterday my favorite yoga instructor informed me, with much enthusiasm, about an upcoming public demonstration and performance. A number of the teachers are assembling "teams" of students to compete for about $20,000 NT. He has one spot left on his team and needs me to join, so I can top their pyramid.

I'm a former cheerleader (don't make fun...I'm from Texas), have experience (however limited) in "acroyoga," and am under five feet tall...so I'm actually a pretty good candidate for the position of yoga pyramid topper.

However, the idea of competing in yoga goes completely against why I love it so much. My new studio is quite commercial. There are mirrors everywhere. Fit Taiwanese ladies in matchy matchy workout clothes. Shiny, posh lounges for sipping tea. Sales consultants. Two-year contracts. But I personally practice yoga for pretty crunchy, hippie reasons, as it:

1. Helps me meditate and feel centered daily.
2. Brought me the faith in possibility necessary for the life I created this past year.
3. Let's me refocus as when things aren't feeling right-side up, it helps to see things from upside down for a bit.
4. Reminds me to be always grateful for everything, everyone and everyday.

Apparently I'm a very quick sellout though as I agreed to join the team and start "training" next week.
Oy.

Big World. Little Me. Bigger Universe.

2009-12-25T12:15:00.001-06:00

The longer I stay away from home the more I realize there is so much world to see for such a little tourist. My dear friend Mike recently sent me this video below where the American Museum of Natural History maps out all of the known universe.

When put in this perspective, the world actually seems quite small. So maybe it's not such a lofty goal to see all of it in one lifetime. In comparison to a quasar, India, Madagascar and Vietnam seem like entirely possible destinations, right?

PS: Merry Christmas.

Employment & Bondage

2009-12-24T09:22:00.001-06:00

So I have a job now! It barely really counts as a "job," but it'll be a pleasant change to have money going into rather than out of my bank account. I'm tutoring a very sweet, Taiwanese girl in English once a week for two hours.

Our first meeting was much like that scene from a League of Their Own when Mae (Madonna) is teaching Shirley (Ann Cusack) how to read using an erotic novel. But imagine two twenty-something Asian girls at a crowded, yet quiet, outdoor coffee shop in Taiwan instead of two professional female baseball players on the back of a bus.

I brought her the only magazines I have here (Marie Claire and National Geographic) to practice reading. The article she chose was about Gossip Girl's (one of her favorite TV shows) lead actress Blake Lively and went something like this:

"She is wearing a pair of black tuxedo shorts, a white blouse opened just enough to hint at a delicate black bra, a pair of 5-inch Christian Louboutin heels...they look like bondage Mary Janes...her blonde mane is disheveled, her skin smooth and golden."

"ummm...what is bondage?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that, but next time I will definitely be choosing our reading materials much more carefully.

In case you have no idea what I'm talking about with the A League of Their Own reference, I just found the clip! It's about 30 seconds into this:

Flickr

2009-12-14T13:20:00.001-06:00

A Twitter handle, a blog and now this! I am so with it these days.

As insisted upon by my dear friend Lauren, I finally purchased a Flickr account. So far I only have a random mix of photos from Greece and Taiwan up. More to come soon.

In case you're interested: http://www.flickr.com/photos/thelittletourist/sets/.

Other People's Stories

2009-12-12T07:47:00.000-06:00

I've met a lot of fantastic expats during my stay here, so I've come across some great stories too. I've recorded a few here as told to me (with a few stylistic changes on my part) this past week. I think they illustrate life in Asia well.

1. Skinny Jeans. Fat Cockroach.
My friend was wearing skinny jeans out clubbing in Taipei once. A big cockroach crawled up one of his pant legs, but he couldn't shake it out and was instead freaking out. He ran to the bathroom to take his pants off, but they were too tight.

He ended up with mashed roach on the side of his leg. Not cute.

2. Hope This Doesn't Happen To Me. Maybe a Benefit of Living the Dream in Your 20somethings.
There was this 60something year old Japanese woman in my Chinese class who was super energetic and fun. She was living her dream of finally studying abroad. Growing up she always wanted to leave the country to study Mandarin, but her family didn't have the money. She ended up becoming a lawyer and making good money and being able to retire.

Then one day in class she just keeled over and died...right in the middle of class. But she was living the dream.

*Please note that this one came from a guy I met last night who has a professional certificate in circus performance. In addition to getting a BA in history and an MA in communication studies, he went to a circus school and was a juggler for a number of years. How cool is that? The second circus man I've met on this trip!

His signature act was standing on his head and juggling atop a bed of broken glass.

3. Weird Shit Asian People Do
When you're traveling in Asia, you never stop being shocked by the crazy shit Asian people do. Everyone I've met on my travels -- no matter how long they've lived abroad-- agree that you never get used to the bizarre things you see on the street...and everyone has their own favorite story.

Mine was walking down the road in China one day and I look up to see a man sawing off the top of a street lamp. The lamp was still on. I just kept walking.

The best one I heard was from a girl who was also walking down the road in China, and she sees two men bent over with the upper halves of their bodies in a barrel and digging for something. They emerge with what appears to be success on their faces and something moving in a bag. She'd never seen such pride so had to know what their elusive prize could be.

A cat. They were going home to eat it.

Nice to Meet You Too

2009-12-11T15:03:00.002-06:00

A friend of mine made a comment to me recently about my rapidly growing circle of expat and local friends here...and about the absurd level of random activity in my daily life. Making friends is a funny thing though. I'm at the same time very outgoing and completely socially awkward.

I remember at university there was always a steady flow of ice breaker games to be played...always new opportunities to meet people in the admissions office, your dorm, classrooms, every student group, etc.
Of course, as an active over achiever, I joined every organization who would take me, so I had to sit through a lot of three truths and a lie and writing "fun facts" about myself on notecards.

Sadly, I really wasn't that interesting of a person. I'd always use the same stories over and over again. The go-to one consistently being: "I got in a fight with Jerry Springer once." (true story)

I hate answering questions about my favorite films, music and books. I always freeze up, and it's like I've never seen a film, heard a song or read a book in my life. My Facebook profile page is empty for this reason. I also don't like the idea of people judging me based on such random preferences. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (the book and movie version with Gene Wilder) for some reason always pops into my head first, but then I don't want to sound too childish and gluttonous.

In Chinese class, my teacher asked me this question recently while we were practicing our basic Mandarin vocab, and I went through this same mental exercise but blurted out my next thought: "umm...wo xihuan kan (I like to watch)...Kungfu Panda."

Perhaps I should just accept the fact that I AM childish and gluttonous.

The backpacker documentary I watched last weekend had a section about the five questions all backpackers ask each other when they first meet. I've gotten quite accustomed to my personal top five -- my expat version of the ice breaker game.

1. Where are you from? (Please note that this conversation usually takes place in my crappy Mandarin.)

2. Oh, not Japan? You look Japanese. But...where are you FROM...like your family?

3. What are you doing here?

4. So why don't you speak Chinese already? Your parents didn't teach you?

5. How long have you been here and how long are you staying?

The other day I met a fellow and, after a bit of back and forth, the conversation launched into a sixth question:

6. Soo...other than eating and cooking, yoga, rock climbing, learning the ukulele and studying Chinese, what do you like to do? Long pause. Expectant stare. Blank stare. Boredom.

Seriously!? I couldn't think of anything else. All that is still not enough? I just added the last three to the list pretty recently too. What does it take these days to be an interesting person? I thought surely I had it by now.

Maybe I should have told him that I got in a fight with Jerry Springer once.

Independence Day (or Happy One Year Anniversary)

2009-12-05T14:42:00.002-06:00

Today marked my one year anniversary as a single lady. Is it completely narcissistic that I'm celebrating a year of being with myself?

If so, I don't care. After seven years of back-to-back long-term relationships, it feels good knowing that I can stand (pretty much) on my own and be happy. Anyway, I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be one year and a day ago...emotionally, professionally, physically or geographically.

Back then I probably would have guessed that today would have been spent:

1. Literally freezing in Boston.
2. Working as an account supervisor at the top PR agency in the world -- in a sense, my dream job.
3. Having brunch with the girls and reminiscing over our college days.
4. Practically married, playing with my dog, baking rugelach and planning Chanukkah festivities.
5. In bed by 11 p.m. and looking forward to sleeping in on Sunday and watching Meet the Press with my man.

Instead, I spent today:

1. Enjoying a sunshiny 70 degrees in Taipei.
2. Not studying for my Mandarin quiz on Monday because I figure my time is better spent chatting with locals than staring at a textbook. Also, practicing yoga at my new studio like it's my job...more time well-spent as most classes are taught entirely in Chinese. In addition to my continued obsession with yoga, I have now also taken on indoor rock climbing.
3. Watching an awesome documentary about the life of backpackers in a room full of strangers or people who were strangers to me just a week ago. Followed by dinner at Japanese ramen spot.
4. Brainstorming what to bring to the public potluck/music circle event I'm attending tomorrow at the park down the street from my apartment.
5. In bed by 5 a.m. after an exhausting/joyful evening of karaoke and then dancing with my closest acquaintances on this continent: a group of amazing women from Taiwan, Thailand and France.

So, friends, if you ever find yourself in a less than desirable life situation, just wait a year! Who knows. You could end up on the other side of the world making friends out of strangers everyday, eating things you hated as a child and forgetting how to speak proper English.

Some Very Belated Travel Notes: The Rest of Morocco

2009-12-02T10:35:00.003-06:00

I kind of forgot about this blog until a few people recently asked me what happened to it. So, here I am again! I'm settled in Taiwan now, but I guess I still qualify as a "little tourist" here. When do you stop becoming a tourist and become an actual local? Does that ever happen?

So there's lots I don't want to forget about the rest of my trip to Morocco, so here it is for the record:

Essaouira, Essaouira, Essaouira!
Whenever we were in bus stations, we'd always hear the drivers yelling "Essaouira, Essaouira, Essaouira!" We figured it was a popular tourist destination, so, as two tourists, we thought it would be appropriate to check it out with the two extra days we had left before my flight out of Casablanca.

Some things of note about our stay here:
1. Arrived super late without any idea where to stay. Stalked by hoards of hotel salesmen. So glad that part of my life is over now. I have a home! Anyway, we settled in a hostel that I swear was haunted. There was some questionable substance on the ground that the manager assured us was not blood. One of the beds was falling a part. Very irritable dog next door yapping all night...probably at the ghosts looming around our room.

2. I almost bought "happy cookies" from a man on the street. They sounded cute! I'm so naive. I don't know how you guys let me out of the house. Luckily, Dan stopped me and explained that they were laced with hash. Ha. Oops.

3. Essaouira is a really lovely beach town. Reminded me of Mykonos with the narrow winding streets crammed with shops and tourists.

Part of the medina wall separated the town from the Atlantic ocean, so we climbed on it to get a view of our friends in NYC/Boston. I said hi, but I don't think any of you heard me.

A nice port too. I like looking at boats.

4. They have a market full of freshly caught sea animals. You pick a mix of seafood from a stall, and they grill it fresh right there!

5. Another lovely sunset. Must be so bad for my eyes staring at all these sunsets.

6. We were on a mission the entire trip to find Pastilla de Hamem (pigeon), and we finally found some! Most of the places we searched either hadn't heard of it (weird, as Wikipedia seems to think it's the national dish of Morocco), or they only served chicken (so boring, right?).

Anyway, it was worth the wait. It's a sweet and savory pie with a flaky pastry. The pigeon is shredded and served with a mix of spices, including a lot of cinnamon and some ground almonds. Topped with a drizzle of honey. The fish tagine with preserved lemons we had in the same meal was not nearly as memorable.

7. Caught an overnight bus to Casablanca.

Casablanca

I only spent one night in the city before I had to catch a flight. I just recall a lot of sleeping in the hostel, since we were stuck on a bus all night...and watching laundry dry (oh, the life of a cheap traveler).

I guess we also found time to:

1. Go to my last medina to buy a tagine. It's beautiful. I bought a new batch of ras al hanout that I'm fairly certain is actually quality stuff this time. I'm starting an international cooking club with some folks in Taiwan now, so I'm excited to try out my new goods on them! Will keep you posted on how that goes.

2. Get really lost one last time together. Thank goodness for nice Moroccan women who always seem to bail us out when we're wandering the streets confused.

3. Discover that "Star" brand Sauce Piquante is a.) amazing and b.) tastes just like the Taco Bell hot sauce packets at home.

4. Also discover that steeping tea in hot milk is a delicious idea.

5. OH! BEST PART! Went to a hammam, a traditional Moroccan public bath. It was incredible! Also, a bit awkward to say the least. It's always a little uncomfortable trying to communicate with someone who doesn't speak your language...but imagine being naked the whole time too!

I was taken into a steam room, and I think told to sit down on a stool and poor buckets of hot water on myself. Then you lie on a marble slab and have them scrub you down with this special exfoliating mitten. We hadn't had a shower in a while, since we opted for a bus ride over a hostel the night before.

There was a lot of dead skin cells to dispose of. I looked around the table, and it looked like I was in the Sahara again. Yuck. I suppose you're always carrying around a bunch of dead skin that you don't really need though.

Then the lady soaps you down. You're taken to another room to shower yourself off. Then there's yet another table and a massage and more soap! The whole time everyone was gossiping around me in French, so that was fun too. It was nice to be among all women for a change as you don't have much interaction with many local women while you're on the road.

6. Flight to Dubai then Seoul then 30 or so hours later...finally Taipei!

A Note on Moroccan Public Transportation

2009-11-21T02:22:00.001-06:00

Much of the trip has been spent getting from one destination to the next, which I guess can be said about life in general. There's a lot of Morocco to see out the window of a moving vehicle.

Enjoying the scenic rides has actually been one of my favorite parts of the trip, which I guess could also be said about life in general.

Sometimes Dan and I actually looked forward to a long, lazy time just sitting. We're getting to know the Moroccan transportation systems well.

1. We know that Dan will always get stuck paying extra for his checked bag.

That I will do whatever it takes to keep my backpack with me at all times. No stowing it under the bus. No throwing it on top of the van.

2. That it's a good idea to share food and other goodies with your fellow passengers. Kinder chocolates. Dates. Tylenol.

3. That a woman will inevitably vomit somewhere near us.

4. That they can always fit one more person into the vehicle.

5. That the journey will always take a few hours extra than expected.

6. That someone will get into an argument in Arabic.

7. That we will reluctantly have to pull out the guidebook upon arrival because we realize we once again forgot to make plans and have no idea where we are, where we're going, or where we will sleep that evening.
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Travel Notes: Marrakech, Part Deux

2009-11-21T01:18:00.004-06:00

We return to Marrakech, but this time opt to stay around Gueliz in the new city instead of by the older part of town near the medina.

Wow. What a different world...just a 30 min walk away from where we were before.

The snake charmers and three dirham orange juice stands have been replaced by trendy cafes selling gelato and sleek boutiques alongside Lacoste and Zara clothing stores.

There are young people everywhere at night. Hip, young people. Women with hair uncovered. Leather jackets. High heels.

1. Hotel Toulousain: 190 dh, including breakfast. Heavy fragrance of sweet orange blossoms fills the courtyard. High ceilings. Standard breakfast with OJ from the trees above.

2. McDonald's: Everyone inside looks cooler than us. And it's packed. It's almost midnight. We debate whether to try a McTagine. We don't. My only regret of the trip.

3. Jardin Majorelle: Amazing gardens created by French painter Jacques Majorelle in 1924. Acquired and restored by Yves Saint Laurent after Jacques' death in 1962. What a worldly collection of plants.
Lots of cacti from Mexico. Those are my favorite. Water fountains. Brightly colored pots and walkways. Electric blues. Canary yellows. Soft oranges.

A memorial to Yves Saint Laurent is set up with a single fluted column and a sign at the bottom that reads "silence" in English and Arabic. I like this a lot.

We spend a lot of time just sitting on a bench. I wonder if my life can always be this simple.

4. Small pastry shop: Plates of goodies covered in plastic wrap line the tables alongside the walls. We pick a bitter sesame seed stick and an almond shaped shiny crispy thing with a dot of date jam in the middle. The nice man let's us have them for free.

Our first taste of the Marrakech hospitality that we'd read so much about. Hospitality should always be date flavored.

5. Plats haj Boujemaa: Packed with locals for lunch. Diced tomato and onion salad. Bowl of olives with preserved lemon. Tanjia of sheep, which Marrakech specializes in. So much rich fatty oil for sopping up with the bread.

As I think we've done with every meal, we clean the plate, bread basket included.

6. Gare de Marrakech: Train station is massive and pretty ornately decorated. Too bad we've missed the last bus to Essaouira though. We take a cab to the main bus station to catch another ride out.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

2009-11-20T07:12:00.001-06:00

On our last night with Youssef, our Berber tour guide to the desert, he asked to go through all the photos from my trip.

The first leg is pretty much a slide show of my dear friend Pris on various islands in Greece. Pris at the Parthenon. Pris eating spaghetti. Pris climbing a mountain. Pris playing with cats.

Youssef very much liked Pris. He asked that I bring her back to Morocco next time, so she could marry a good Berber man.

"For marriage! Marriage." (as he motioned placing a ring on his left hand and then pointed to my camera)

He promised he would feed her well with lots of tagine, couscous and kebab.

The day before he had showed us a video on a friend's phone of a traditional Berber wedding ceremony. They last days and involve the bride riding to the groom's home on a camel carrying a load of children in the back.

When I asked who the kids were, he said they were probably just random ones from the village...it didn't really matter. They were meant to bring luck and symbolize a fertile future for the happy new couple.

Don't they tie bells and flowers on the backs of "just married" cars for newlyweds in the States? Or shoes? I guess it's the same thing.

Anyway, it all looks like great fun. Plus, he promised me a fair dowry with many surprise gifts upon our return. I bet I could have gotten a camel out of him for the exchange.

I think she could be happy here too. She loves the beach but doesn't go in the ocean...the sandy Sahara would be perfect! A nice, dry heat and lots of sunshine. There are cats everywhere. Lots of good food to eat.

But they don't do pork, so no bacon...probably a deal-breaker.

Well, if Pris' move to San Francisco or where ever else doesn't pan out, there's always a backup plan in Morocco.
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Leaving the Desert

2009-11-18T08:06:00.006-06:00

The night before we left the desert, Youseff, who we were huge fans of until then, tried to offer us a dash of cayenne and convince us to pay him extra to take the camels nine kilometers to the next village where we could catch a more direct route to his cousin's riad in Afah.

The alternative would be to walk four kilometers the other direction to the main road and possibly get stuck in the heat waiting for a car. There was also a taxi strike going on in Zagora, which could complicate matters.

In trying to convince us to pay the 300 dirham for the camels (he eventually brought the price down to 50 each if we threw in Dan's headphones...or a shirt or some jewelry), he insisted the walk would be too strenuous with our bags and that we were too "gentle" to make it.

Little did he know, that's a severe insult for a small girl with a napoleon complex and distaste for words like "cute," "delicate," or anything implying weakness. Plus, we're both always up for a challenge and a good story.

So we walk. Blazing Saharan sun. Sand in shoes. Sand in face. Sand everywhere. Bags in tow...until we reach the nearest road.

Please note that this is all while wearing a black, long sleeve jacket as my attempt to be modest and respectful here, which is a little absurd as Dan spent the better part of the previous day entertaining the men with multiple screenings of Shakira's "She Wolf" video on his iPod.

If you haven't seen it yet, you should look it up (or just click below), but it's not exactly a model display of modesty and restraint.

Shakira - New Music - More Music Videos

Anyway, we hitchhike on the back of a truck through the mountains into Oulad Driss, where, through lots of confusion, yelling in Arabic, angry people, strike complications, we manage to take a few taxis to the riad, where we stay the night with his cousin.

First shower in a few days. Hot water! Olive and tomato omelet. Generous bowls of fruit. Camel tagine.
Pick fresh dates off the palm trees from the roof terrace. So many luscious, sweet dates!

Spend a lot of time together watching TV. An Arabic hidden camera show. National geographic type show on China. Camel racing.

It's calm here. So worth the walk.

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Secret Agent Man

2009-11-18T07:41:00.001-06:00

So it turns out that Youssef and everyone else have suspicions that Abdell, our fellow tourist friend from Casablanca, is a member of the royal family's special police brigade.

Or perhaps he's a distant relative of the king who just wanted to get away from the pressured royal life and live among the common people for a relaxing desert getaway.

He told us he's some kind of trader who buys and sells all kinds of goods, from radios to clothing.

I guess he kept sneaking off to make secret phone calls and apparently introduced himself to us with all different names. Lots of questionable behavior and unaligned stories.

My guess is that he's just a regular drug dealer.

Who knows. But what a fun adventure!

He gave us his email, so we're going to try to track him down when we go to Casablanca.

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Like Sand Through the Hourglass, These Our the Days...

2009-11-16T08:54:00.005-06:00

We spend a night strolling through Ouarzazete, the Hollywood of Africa. The largest movie studio in the country is here, and the city has played the backdrop for notable American films such as Laurence of Arabia, Gladiator and Star Wars. Even the pristine new buildings and palm tree lined streets have a very LA vibe.

This is really just a stopover destination for us though as we're in search of a way to the desert...although we weren't sure which one yet.

We dodge the many tour guides on the street who approach us from all sides. One even followed us back to our hotel to negotiate a cheaper price.

Now, it seems a little counter intuitive to avoid the tour guides with possibly reputable businesses -- or at least somewhat legitimate looking storefronts -- when you are in fact looking for someone to guide a tour for you, but we've lost all trust and patience for anything resembling a sales pitch.

Instead, we meet a guy on the street who notices that we speak English and asks a favor of us to transcribe a letter for his Japanese pen pal.

He invites us into the store where he works for a cup of tea. Got to love that Berber hospitality. Turns out his family lives in the Draa Valley and some near the mountains outside the desert south of here. We ask if he'll show us around, so we can get an authentic Berber experience.

And that's how we met Youssef Sami, our tour guide for our journey to the Sahara desert (of course we negotiate more than a fair price for his services).

About six hours and a few petit and grand taxi rides later (through small villages, mountains, valleys, lunch of stewed beef with hard boiled eggs and prunes in Zagora, and a palmiere with over 45 species of dates), we arrive at our destination: a circle of Berber style tents made of sheep and camel wool, amid kilometer upon kilometer of rolling, cream-colored folds of silky, rippling sand dunes in all directions.

I've only really been camping once, and I'm not even sure if it counts. It was in the 5th grade with my dear friend Lauren's family.

It strikes me as a bit hilarious that my second try camping is in the Sahara desert (I'm not counting the nightmare hostel experience in Greece with Pris).

It's a pretty luxurious set up as far as Berber camping goes...maybe this one doesn't count either.

The food has been awesome:

1. Beef tagine with potatoes, zucchini, carrots, onions.

2. Loads of fresh fruit with cinnamon: pomegranates, tangerines, apples, bananas.

3. Camel milk: a special request from us. We read a WSJ article a while ago that described the stuff as "liquid gold" for its impressive medicinal qualities. It tastes like slightly sour buttermilk. Very thick with some lumps. Kind of salty and tangy. Pleasant though.

4. Sardine salad with diced tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, olives. So Mediterranean.

5. Spiced tomato omelet tagine.

6. Bread for breakfast with apricot, strawberry, fig jams and Laughing Cow cheese. It seems to be big here.

7. Camel stew: another special request. Served over bed of fluffy couscous, a huge specialty in the area. Camel tastes like beef, but much more tender.

Between all the eating, we find time for a three-hour camel ride to larger dunes.

Frolicking barefoot through fine, soft hills of sand induces such a childlike wonder, I can't help but giggle the whole day. I just can't grasp the reality that I'm playing in the Sahara desert.

The stars sparkle so vividly out here that it's almost violent -- like an intense dance to one of the spontaneous drum circles that we've been having. Mars looks like a techno dance party rave.

Our guide as well as the couple of local guys he enlisted to help us, and Abdel, who is from Casablanca and decided to join us after meeting in a taxi, are all extremely joyful and friendly. There's a lot of laughing and communicating with gestures and a broken mix of English, Arabic, Spanish, French and Italian. A constant game of charades...sometimes Pictionary in the sand.

Even surrounded by such a dry expanse of desert sands, there can be so much life!

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The Wheels on the Beat-Up-Overcrowded-Moroccan-Van Bus Go...

2009-11-13T02:25:00.001-06:00

This has been such a fascinating ride to Ouarzazete.

Steep, rocky, narrow roads that weave through the mountainside. Colorful, but not the way Marrakech was.

Shades of brown from dull, pale to deep red hues, grassy golden tones, bright green patches flow throughout the landscape. Then cubist cliffs streaked with orange. Rolling hills polka-dotted with puffs of strubbery. Monochrome, smooth, dark mountains in the distance.

Jangling Arabic music. Bump bump.

We're in a van that reminds me of my dad's catering van for the restaurant. No sesame chicken here though. Just loads of Berbers coming and going and two bewildered Americans in the back.

It would seat about 14 comfortably. About 20 uncomfortably, not including the kid on the roof with the luggage or the guy hanging out the side from the open door.

Dust flows in from the open windows. Clouds of dirt season the dates, bread and almonds we're snacking on. I wrap my scarf around my head like a traditional Arab woman to keep the dusty breeze out of my hair.

Dan wonders what they must think of us. This is not a common tourist route.

What would we think if we saw a couple of Berbers on a regional bus on the back roads of small town Texas? If one threw on a cowboy hat out of nowhere? If they kept mumbling something that resembled "Thank you very much...it's two expensive...thank you very much...it's too expensive" (the Arabic words we keep practicing with one another)?

Whoa. Suddenly we stop and hear the sound of someone coughing, vomiting. It's the woman crammed in front of us...we think. It's hard to tell when we're all so tightly packed.

Somehow I'm not grossed out. I like this place.
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Travel Notes: Demnate/Iminifri

2009-11-13T02:24:00.001-06:00

The sights:

1. Hike through the Grotto's Mouth. Geological structure that reminds us of Gaudi's Sagrada Familia. Streams. Dripping stalagmites (Stalactites? Stalagtites?). The two sides of the gorge are said to represent two forbidden lovers whose interlocked hands on either side were turned to stone.

2. Two hourish leisurely walk to town along a quiet road carved through the foothills of the Atlas mountains.

3. Meet our "friend" Samir (who works at the hotel and speaks Spanish), and he shows us around Demnate. I should note that we've learned a little from the lesssons of Marrakech and explained upfront to him that we were not interested in paying for the services of a tour guide.

He still wanted to hang with us! We gave him 40 dirham when we left to show our appreciation for all his help and the kindness of the Berber people. However, there was a little confusion in settling our hotel bill, and I think we still got ripped off...but not by much this time.

4. Beef tagine for lunch. There's a row of small restaurants here who all compete for the best tagine in town. Apparently there is one tagine restaurant for about every 40 people.

5. Climb a big mountain. Proud moment for a couple of amateur rock climbers.

6. Chicken tagine for dinner. Mini tour of kitchen and lesson on tagine cookery. There's four or five separate mixes of spices that go into just one tagine!

7. Samir helps us find a bus to the desert in the morning.
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Melting (Tagine) Pot

2009-11-13T02:23:00.001-06:00

The riad we find in Iminifri just a bit outside of Demnate (with the help of the newlywed Belgian friends we made on the way) is the perfect departure from the city.

Silence. Dirt paths. Friendly, small-town community feel of Berber people. Tree-covered, purple-tinted mountains. Garden in the backyard. Home-cooked meals (this area is known for having the best tagines). Room built of straw and packed reddish brown mud. Cold showers. Twinkling, vibrant night sky.

I feel like I can breathe again.

There are three other couples staying with us from a combination of Whales, Belgium, Spain, Morocco. We sit by the fire outside, sip Pastis and mint tea, grill flat bread, eat sheep tagine (incredible!), converse in a mix of English, Arabic, French and Spanish.

I think it's worth mentioning that the guy from Whales is a freelance circus performer. He worked for a few months in India on stilts as the mascot for a cricket team called the Calcutta Night Riders.
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Bus to Demnate

2009-11-13T02:22:00.002-06:00

We planned on spending more time in Marrakech but decide we're sick of the city life.

It's an amazing experience with lots to see...your senses are constantly overwhelmed by new sights, smells and sounds...but also salesmen.

We hop on a bus to Demnate a few hours away (of course, not without a few complications and some haggling). There were even people selling items throughout the aisles of the little bus on the way there.

Views of sand dunes, olive groves, a man boarding the bus with a bound dead sheep in hand (Dan thinks the dead part is debatable). Regardless, it went in the cargo area below with our bags.

For most of the two-and-a-half-hour ride, the bus smelled of a sweaty, dusty cheese shop. Dr. Dre played on the radio for a bit. Then some Arabic tunes. Lots of talking loudly and clapping going on as well. I guess they clap instead of pressing a "stop requested" button.
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I Got Yelled at by a Snake Charmer

2009-11-13T02:18:00.002-06:00

On our way to get our bread breakfast, we passed some snake charmers pleading us to take photos.
I told him I only had a dirham on me (which was true), and he said I could pay what I wanted and that was fine.
So I took some photos, and he kept chasing us with snakes and having us take more photos.
Then I handed over a dirham and was ready to go on my merry snake charmed way.
But then the man flipped out on me for not offering enough. I've never seen anyone go so quickly from charming snake charmer to hateful angry eyed screamer.
There's nothing like getting yelled at in the middle of a busy square by a man holding snakes.
I just can't get used to these Moroccan business transactions.
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More Sheep Face, etc.

2009-11-13T02:16:00.001-06:00

Our last night in Marrakech we went back to the Medina (that's what they call the walled in city) square to find some cheaper eats again.

We went to another busy looking stall with a row of sheep heads in the front. We ordered:

1. Tanjia: stew with tons of spices and also tastes pretty lemony, a well-known dish from this area of Morocco; they said it was lamb, but we're pretty sure it was more sheep.

2. Sheep brain: tasted like egg yolk, rich buttery textured, nicely spreadable on the flat bread.

3. Sheep tongue: surprisingly delicious and not an icky texture at all.

4. Sheep mammary: nothing too special...don't totally understand what we were eating here; maybe I have the translation wrong.

5. More cups of free mint/sugar tea: there were a few more shopkeepers after our "friend" Khalid who offered us free tea throughout the day. I felt weird turning it down because of my severe fear of dirty water. Luckily, my bowels are doing quite well, even after about six cups in one day! I think I'm safe!

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Travel Notes: Marrakech Day 2 AKA Day of the Scams AKA We got Cayenned

2009-11-11T11:15:00.001-06:00

Our first full day in Morocco was a big learning experience. When you're a tourist, especially who can't speak either of the main languages of your current destination (Arabic and French in this case), being scammed is just a way of everyday life you come to accept.

However, I wasn't fully prepared for just how clever the salesmen are here! Even when you don't realize what they're selling, you've probably already been sold.

I feel extremely safe though. There's little chance that anyone will be stealing from you while you're not looking because they're too busy stealing from you right in front of your face...and with a smile.

1. Stop in a souq selling spices. The shopkeeper is insistent that we sit down while he shows us everything he has to offer. He's very friendly and charming, cracking jokes about Michael Jackson changing colors as he demonstrates a brown colored natural pigment that turns blue in water.

We learn lots about the different teas and supposed medicinal qualities and cosmetic purposes of certain herbs and spice blends. There's a male and female version of viagra tea. Cumin cures gas. Kohl for the eyes.

I'm out of soap, so I purchase a nice smelling bar of amber.

We buy way more "ras al hanout" than intended, which is a blend of 35 spices and literally translates to "top of the shop." I used to buy it at a spice shop (Christina's) in Cambridge, Mass., and am a big fan of the stuff for tagines or as a marinade.

The shopkeeper lets us sample a whiff of his blend, which is supposed to represent a mix of the best spices in his shop, and then he spoons some into a bag for us from a separate bigger barrel.

We negotiate a price, which we later realize is still a bit high, but oh well.

The soap: After one shower, I certainly don't feel any cleaner. It just rubs off this grimy yellow substance instead of a nice, frothy lather. At least it smells pretty still.

When we try our baggy of bright orangey-red, overpriced spices with bread, I quickly realize it's not the same as what we'd smelled before, but instead it's basically just...cayenne pepper, which has become our new catch phrase for being scammed.

2. Visit the Bahia Palace for 10 dirham. Lots of beautiful tile work, light fixtures and carved walls with ornate stone designs. Actually looks a lot like our hostel though. Think we may have gotten cayenned on this one.

However, the former resident slave-turned-vizier Abu Bou Ahmed had a harem there that housed four wives and 24 concubines. Also the site of P. Diddy's 30the birthday extravaganza.

3. Dar si Said. 10 dirham again. Museum with local crafts, such as rugs, jewelry, clothing and tea pots from the 1900s on display. Actually looks a lot like the items on sale all around us in the souqs. Cayenned again.

4. Meet a new "friend" Khalid who invites us for tea in the shop where he works. Insists he just wants to practice his English as he's going to university in Toronto next year. He doesn't want any money from us.

We have a lovely conversation seated in a circle on a rug of the shop, sipping super sweetened Moroccan mint tea (I was nervous about drinking the water, but I seem to be fine so far...we had about four free cups). In addition to standard small talk, we discuss themes of politics, cultural identities, future life goals and aspirations, traditional and modern gender roles, and human rights.

He seems very intelligent and offers some good advice on how to approach Marrakech as a tourist.

Khalid even takes us to dinner because we needed assistance finding traditional Moroccan fare, not the tourist stuff. He says he'll help us save money as students.

However, when he brings us to a fancy restaurant steps from the main square, which is filled with white people and has a 180 dirham fixed price menu (that's$23.50 USD and more than nine times what we paid for dinner the night before), we knew something was wrong. We were about to get cayenned.

Dan and I give each other a panicked tourist look and simultaneously begin explaining that we can't afford this meal. Then we bolt for the door as Khalid keeps explaining that he can still meet up with us the next morning to show us his favorite hammam (public baths that are popular here) or introduce us to some of the cheaper travel agencies.

All of a sudden our whole three-hour friendship with Khalid is based on lies. We replay everything we've said to each other. Was any of it true?

Does his friend really go to Harvard?

Is his father really a philosophy professor?

Did P. Diddy really have his birthday party at the Bahia Palace?

Does he really have two dogs?

Ugh. Suddenly everything in this town tastes of cayenne!
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First Night in Morocco and Another Apu Moment

2009-11-11T09:39:00.001-06:00

I've never experienced anything like Morocco before. The second we step foot off the plane in Marrakech we love it already. Such colors and warmth.

If I could read energies (like my dear friend Perna can), Barcelona would be a light aqua blue...maybe robin's egg, but Marrakech would be an explosion of rich, loud hues. In fact, we saw a random rainbow in the sky as we were landing. Maybe I CAN see auras.

Ooh, the sensory overload:

1. Cab drops us off near the main square. Find a hostel called Central Palace. Amazing tiled courtyard and rooftop terrace. Pretty decorative light fixtures hanging everywhere. Ornately designed iron window coverings.

2. We've spent a lot of time in Djemaa El-Fna, the central square of the old town. It's a massive, sprawling open space with food vendors, all kinds of performers and beggars. Multiple roads stretch out from every direction with souqs, the small shops that sell ornate shoes, bags, rugs, belts, scarves, traditional Moroccan dress, and oh so much more.

3. The moment we enter the square Dan gets accosted by a man with a monkey on a leash. I run away (my mother taught me to trust no one, so I try not to allow strangers on the street to come within touching distance of me...even ones with adorable monkeys, which she would have loved.).

Man with monkey: "Welcome! Welcome! Don't be scared! He doesn't bite!"

I'm a little scared.

Monkey proceeds to jump on Dan's shoulder and bites him. He looks like the little fellow from the movie Outbreak. Luckily, he doesn't break through Dan's jacket.

A REAL Apu moment! Welcome to Marrakech, kids.

4. Scooters, bikes and donkeys whiz by in all directions. Well, the donkeys more accurately go at a lazy trot. Lots of honking. Yelling.

5. Try a glass of fresh squeezed OJ from a stall. It's so refreshing and delicious. I wonder for a second if I've somehow been drugged. Only 3 dirham each. The man doesn't have enough change for us so tells us to come back later to return the 1 dirham we owe him (that's like 13 cents).

6. As we walk down the crowded aisles, food salesmen approach us from every direction:

"Come! See menu! Good prices! Sit down, my friend! No good, no pay. I promise."

"Hello! Speak English? Come. I have tagine, pastilla. Very good!"

"What's up, man!"

"Where you from? Come eat! Yes? No? Maybe later? Come back?! Promise? Promise? Maybe later alligator?"

"Tagine here! No KFC, but finger licking gooood."

"Kenichiwa! Arigato!" (Everyone here thinks I'm Japanese, and most vendors can speak a remarkable amount. One guy talked to me for almost five minutes straight. I didn't want to disappoint him, so I just said, "Arigato! Very good!" in my best Japanese accent, giggled and bowed my head as I ran away.)

"Come back tomorrow! Maybe later? Don't forget! I'm number 1-1-7...closest to heaven."

Everyone has their own catchphrase to charm you or memory trick to recall their stall number. It gets a little tiresome, but they're actually so friendly and funny in person that it's quite effective. One guy does this thing where he put lettuce on his head and uses a cucumber as a telephone to call you...it's very cute.

7. We go with a busy looking stand selling a giant pile of snails in a steel pot full of boiling broth. We pull the snail flesh out with toothpicks and dump the shells into communal buckets. Chewy. Flavorful. Broth tastes like some kind of spiced, salty tea.

We tried to use one of our 200 dirham bills on this guy too, but he can't break it. He tells us to come back later to pay the five we owe him for the bowl of bug (65 cents).

What's with all the trusting and IOUs?

We pay him with some of the smaller bills we have, and go back to the OJ guy to return the dirham with the change we receive from the snail man.

8. Next up is another busy stand full of locals. Row of sheep's heads in the front case with a man standing behind them hacking away at various parts.

We order lamb (which we're convinced is actually sheep...where else would the rest of those sheep go?) and a mixed plate (which is just random face...piece of tongue, slice of what may be a slightly hairy ear, other undefinable pieces).

We point to an especially perplexing and interestingly textured bit and ask the food guy what it is. Emphatic, vague reply: "head."

Despite the confusion and overwhelming environment, it's a very pleasant meal. We're served round loaves of soft, crusty bread that you use to scoop up the meat with your hands instead of using flatware. It's got a nice, dense, spongey texture kind of like a pugliese bread.

Always use your right hand as the left is your potty hand.

There's a communal bowl full of spices and salt (tastes like dukkah to me, which if you entered my Cambridge apartment the last weeks I was in town, I probably forced you to eat with olive oil and bread). We sprinkle it generously on everything, even though it's all already quite flavorful.

The lamb comes with an additional half slice of bread soaked in oily, meaty juices. Kind of like a French dip sandwich.

Dan gets a tea. I'm refraining from any non bottled forms of water to spare my stomach from what would most likely be guaranteed unfortunate side effects.

9. We finish the night wandering the open-air theater, staring at clumps of people/"performers" doing strange things and trying to avoid the many children begging for money and little girls grabbing your hands, giving you hugs and trying to sell you bags of tissues. Drum circles. Dancing. Moroccan versions of carnival games.

10. Walk to the minaret, tallest point in the area, and pass a group of young men clapping together around their scooters. Just standing in a circle. Clapping in unison. Having a grand ole time.

Marrakech is the best.

4 Hours. 12 Courses. 5 Senses.

2009-11-09T19:07:00.000-06:00

This post is only for those with a morbid curiosity to know every detail about my meals here...so I have a feeling that's just me.

Our last night in Barcelona we made reservations to dine at the tasting menu only Cinc Sentits and pretended for just one evening that we weren't two unemployed wandering soon-to-be students.

Wine:

1. Zarate Tras da Viba. D.O. Rias Baixas. Albarino. 2005. Bright, fruity. Albarino is a typically Catalan white grape varietal from the area north of us.

2. Bodegas Fefinanes. Fefinanes III Ano. D.O. Rias Baixas. Albarino. Smoky, minerally. Aged in steel for three years.

The menu:

1. Three snacky bites to start. Bowl of marcona almonds. Fig and anchovy bread sticks. Stuffed olives.

Bread served with two types of olive oil. Both from just north of Barcelona.

2. Layered foamy, creamy maple syrup shots with chunks of salt at the bottom. This was much tastier than I just made it sound.

3. Pan con tomate. Fresh tomato sorbet with garlic bubbles, sausage flake, mini croutons, green tomato relish in a puddle of olive oil. Tasted kind of like frozen Campbell soup.

4. Foie gras terrine coca. Slab of rich foie from Baix Emporda topped with carmelized sugar and chopped chives on a bed of glazed leeks and a thin pastry crust. So rich and sweet, it felt like dessert.

As a side note, my culinary student friend from the farm said she saw a video of a foie gras farm in class. Apparently the geese actually run to the feeders every day to be fed. We overheard the waitress saying the same thing to the table next to us. So maybe it's not such a cruel food? Or more likely just effective foodie propaganda?

5. Perfectly poached farm fresh egg (such a cheerfully orange yolk on the little guy!) from Llobregat atop smashed potatoes (should really just call it what it is: smashed butteriness with splash of potato). Also, the menu said the chicken was "blue-legged." Anyone know what that means and why that is a desirable trait?

An optional course, which we felt necessary to pay the extra 10 euros to incorporate. The waiter brought out a hunk of white truffle and shaved sheets off tableside. There was an electronic scale and everything! Such showmanship. 6 euros per gram. We purchased 2.5. Sooo worth it.

6. Wild Mediterranean mullet. Wrapped in a clear cellophane bag. Waitress cut it open upon serving, and the bright aromas of lemon thyme and veggies just hit you in the face. More showmanship! Love edible entertainment.

7. Seared langoustine tail with catalan picada and truffled lentils. The langoustine was so tender and sweet it was reminiscent of our smashed butteriness.

8. Cube of Iberian suckling pig from nearby Extremadura. Cooked over 24 hours with a light, crisp fatty crust. Served with a spiced apple puree and a sauteed apple wedge.

9. Farmhouse cheese course. Catalan goat cheese with a basil infused tomato, sprigs of fresh basil and drizzled with more basil in oil form. Eh, a little too sweet for my taste. Could have done without this one.

10. Chamomile ice cream with diced peach rectangles and a cloud of pistachio dust. Few things in life more deliciously comforting than sweet, milky chamomile. It's what I imagine a big, cozy armchair (much like the one in my former and Pris' current apartment) and a good book or NPR radio show on a winter day would taste like.

11. Chocolate (67% to be exact) mousse with olive oil ice cream, shattered bread (yes, this just means bread crumbs, but it's what the menu actually said) and chopped macadamian nuts.

12. Trio of chocolate and hazelnut brittle, shot of cream with violet gelee and an almond cookie.

And now we are living off bread to make up for this indulgent splurge. Thank goodness for cheap Moroccan food though!

Travel Notes: Barcelona

2009-11-09T03:05:00.000-06:00

We left Barcelona today, so I most likely won't have too much time to update from now on as I won't have Internet access on my phone until I'm in Taiwan on Nov. 21. I'll be checking email though.

Barcelona is such a wonderful city. I wish we could have stayed longer!

It's got a great energy to it, and the architecture is so different. Gaudi, who is responsible for the aesthetic of most of the city, was such a weirdo. Who approved all these crazy designs?

Day 1

1. Met Dan at the hostel pretty late. The hostel Sants One has a fun vibe with lots of youngsters, but that staff seems a bit dense. Location isn't great. Wouldn't recommend it.

2. Grabbed beers at bar down the street and caught up on each other's traveling adventures. The first time we met we decided to meet up in China in about a year, and then added Barcelona and Morocco later on a whim. Feels strange having actually followed through and made it here.

Day 2

1. Cafe con leche for breakfast. If not noted, just assume I'm eating bread and something out of a jar from the farm for every other meal.

2. Pleasant walk through Arch de Triomph, along water, through some narrow alleys to find a tapas bar for lunch. This city has such a cool, friendly spirit.

3. Wind up in La Merce, which according to a guidebook I read that day I spent 8 hours in a Barnes & Noble at home, is a blue collar neighborhood with cheap, traditional tapas. Ended up at the bar of this tiny place. Tortilla Espanola and sardines (big, yummy fleshy ones) soaked in garlic, parsley and vinegar.

4. Walk a bit. Find another cheap tapas place that looks good. Spontaneous second lunch. Chorizo with peppers on sticks over crostini. Jamon with jalapenos over more crostini. Glass of sidra poured out of a giant barrel. Tastes like mix of apple juice, beer and champagne.

5. Some rambling down La Rambla (a long pedestrian walkway full of little vendors, cafes and performers dressed up in interesting costumes for photo opps) and La Boqueria (what must be the most amazing market in the world).
We purchase plenty of snacks: madronos (little red berries that taste like gritty apricots), figs, three different kinds of mushrooms, Pernil Bodega jamon, roncal queso (sheep's milk cheese), a block of membrillo (quince paste) and a bottle of coffee flavored olive oil.

6. Viena Cafe for the best sandwich ever, according to Mark Bittman of the NY Times. Jamon Iberico with cheese and a bit of tomato paste on a light, crusty loaf. Perfectly proportioned, but not my best ever. We preferred Oprah's fave from Govind Armstrong's place in Miami.

7. Then we make stops by the Christopher Columbus monument and Gaudi's
La Sagrada Familia cathedral. Lots of weird imagery of Native Americans kneeling down and gratefully kissing the hands of Spaniards. Then just a beautiful mess of cement and dramatic spires at the cathedral, which was such a massive undertaking by Gaudi and the city that it's still under construction...I feel like that's partially a tourist gimmick though.

8. We make dinner back at the hostel kitchen, which consists of pasta tossed in the coffee olive oil and a little bit of the jamon and sheep cheese with the sauteed mushrooms and, of course, a bottle of cheap tempranillo.

Day 3

1. Breakfast on the roof of the hostel.

2. Spend most of the morning at the Museu Picasso. One of my favorite art stops on the trip yet as I'm a big Picasso fan. Focus was mainly on his early years and time spent living in Barcelona.

Loved his Las Meninas series, which are over 50 interpretations of Velasquez's famous painting at the Prado in Madrid. Thought-provoking. Fun. There was also a special exhibit about "Secret Images," which explored the erotic Japanese screen prints that inspired Picasso and many of his peers during this time. Included some of Picasso's personal collection. Lots of octopus finding romance with women.

3. Grab jamon/queso and chorizo sandwiches from a stand near La Boqueria. Only place we could find to sit was inside a playground, so we risk looking creepy and eat there among the frolicking Spanish children.

4. Hot chocolate and coffee at Cafe L'Opera. Coffee nice and strong. Hot chocolate was literally a melted bar of chocolate in a little tea cup. We drank it with a spoon.

5. Stroll up MontJuic (Mt. Jew). Sneak into a park to watch the sunset. Something rowdy and fun sounding happening at the Olympic stadium below. Get yelled at (more like a loud talking to actually) by some security guards and forced to make our way back down the Jew mountain.

6. Buy salted, fried cod balls and brazil nuts on the way home. Neither taste that great.

7. Over four-hour dinner at Cinc Sentits. 11 courses. I'll have to do a whole separate post for this one.

8. Post-dinner digestive walk through what is similar to Barcelona's 5th ave shopping district. See Gaudi's Pedrera and Baclio buildings. More curvy, undulating, cement dripping craziness.

Day 3

1. Lots of being late. Running places. Barely making our flight out to Marrakech. But then we somehow end up being early for boarding. Good thing we didn't waste too much effort stressing over it.

2. Adios, Espana...but most likely "hasta luego."

I´m in Milano, Bitch (get it...like the song...)

2009-11-08T01:48:00.001-06:00

I only had a few hours in Milan, so I made my way to the world´s largest Gothic cathedral. It took about 600 years to finish! And there are about 3,400 statues, 1,355 spires and 155 gargoyles. It was pretty tacky, but in a pretty way.

I didn´t have time to run to Da Vinci´s Last Supper, so I had a leisurely last lunch in Italy instead. Went to a place called Trattoria da Pino, which has a three course lunch with a bottle of aqua frizzante (my fave) or wine for 15 euros. When I arrived it was filled with chatty local businessmen. Seemed like a good sign...and it was.

You sit at communal tables, so I got to practice my five words of Italian on a few suited up gentlemen.

I informed the waitress that this was my last meal in Italy, and I wanted it to be special. Bring me the most interesting, very Milanese dishes the chef has!

She brought out linguine with pesto (fresh, bright pesto made with veggies...tasted like celery in a good way), roasted chicken and mashed potatoes. Not exactly the super exciting, original meal I was expecting, but it was very tasty. It felt like homecooking. Plus, all the men around me were eating basically the same thing, so I guess that´s a good sign too.

Sadly though, I brought leftovers with me on the plane to Barcelona, and someone at the hostel ate them out of our shared fridge the next day.

When I thought I lost my iPod in Greece, I didn´t even care. No worries! But this...stealing someone´s food? So unacceptable. Who does that?! There goes the yogic cool I took all these months to harness.

But That's Because You Don't Have a Prada Backpack

2009-11-07T19:51:00.002-06:00

On the way to Milan in the mid of the night, I had a 2 hour layover at the Pisa train station at around 1:30 a.m. Not an ideal time to be visiting a new city.

I found a cozy spot on a bench alongside the tracks to rest and try not to fall asleep. There was a wall behind me that did a pretty good job blocking the wind, so I was happy. I should probably paint this picture a little better and explain that it was about 40something degrees, and the warmest thing I packed was a little zip up jacket and a scarf.

Luckily, I had the Swiss Air blanket I stole from my plane ride from the States. I cuddled up against the wall with my backpack and wrapped the blanket around me. Not so bad.

I looked over and noticed there was one other person at the station. A homeless man sat directly across from me in an identical position...backpack and cheap blanket and all. The only exception was my black Prada bag I've been using as a carry on.

As a warning, this next part will only make sense if you've ever seen 10 Things I Hate About You. I imagined me and the homeless man playing out one of my favorite and most quotable scenes:

Me: "There's a difference between like and love. Because, I like my Skechers, but I love my Prada backpack."

Homeless Man: "But I love my Skechers."

Me: "But that's because you don't have a Prada backpack."

Florence Travel Notes

2009-11-07T19:40:00.000-06:00

I left the farm a few days early to see Florence on my way out. Best decision ever.

The highlights:
1. First night was super rainy. Soggy feet didn't make for the best tourist experience, but Florence looks beautiful damp.

Had scoops of pistachio and nutella gelato. Why not dessert first? Then lasagna and half a bottle of chianti for dinner.

Explored the statues around the Uffizi gallery and Duomo. I must have walked by that cathedral a dozen times during my stay, but I was hit with an unexpected awe each time. It's gorgeous. I remember studying it in high school, but you just can't come close to appreciating this one without seeing it in person.

2. Went for a dip in the indoor pool and a sweat in the sauna and steam room plus a 1 euro glass of wine in the hostel. Weirdest hostel. Such extravagant amenities, right? Check out Plus Hostel if you're ever in the area or Venice, Rome and Prague too.

3. Second day started out with breakfast in bed of bread, chestnut butter, plum jam (all from my former home on the farm). Roamed the Academia Gallery where Michelangelo's David is. Incredible exhibit "Perfection in Form" with side by side comparisons of Robert Mapplethorpe's work with the master's. He worked a lot with the first female body building champion Lisa Lyons back in the 80s. It was funny seeing parents' reactions to all these giant photos of naked men next to the Renaissance statues. I guess I could see why they'd be shocked by all the bare ass, but shouldn't the 3D version be worse?

4. Lunch at a little restaurant that's just a window off a side street between the Duomo and Uffizi Gallery called I Fratellini. Famous for tasty, simple 2.5 euro sandwiches. Had a roasted ham sandwich (prosciutto arrosto) with truffle cream (crema tartufata). Mmmmmm.

5. Walked through the Ponte Vechio across the Arno river to see the Pitti Palace and then basically got lost in some parks and a residential area for about 2 hours. It was a good kind of lost though as it was still daylight, and Florence always has something pretty to look at.

6. Walked up a little climb to the Piazza Michelangelo to have a romantic dinner of 2 euro pizza and watch the sun set on Firenze. Lovely panoramic view of the whole city and all the sights I didn't have time to see up close. Full moon and the city street lamps cast a beautiful reflection on the river Arno. Molto bella! I'll have to return one day.

7. Went for a coffee, hot chocolate and some pastries with a new single serving friend from the hostel. The hot cocoa was like liquid pudding.

8. Back to the hostel to watch a random fireworks show from the rooftop terrace. Another day, another bottle of wine. It's almost as cheap as water here, so it seems like the frugal thing to do. Aaahhh, Firenze.

9. Day three consisted mostly of absorbing some of the best art in the world at the Uffizi Gallery...or at least many of my favorites. There were a lot of the big name masters and paintings, but my favorites were the Caravaggios they had and Boticelli's Annunciation.

I hijacked a few tours and learned some fun new things. For instance, did you know that in addition to the renaissance women's desire to look pale (to avoid looking like poor, sunbathed farmers...much as I do now), they also shaved or plucked their hairlines to enlarge their foreheads? It was supposed to make them look smarter.

I was so overwhelmed, I had to break the museum up into two trips in one day -- about a total of 6 or 7 hours.

10. Lunch again at I Fratellini with the hostel bud. Arugula and pecorini tartufo sandwich and a goat cheese,
fennel, salami.

11. Lots of walking around in more rain. More cheap pizza for dinner. More wine...

12. Best gelato I've encountered so far at Festival of Gelato. I think they have over 70 kinds! I went with rose and chocolate with chili pepper.

13. Caught the midnight train to Milan, which really meant to Pisa, then Genova and then Milan by 9 a.m. the next morning. I'll do anything to save 20 euros on a hostel these days.

A Look Back at the Farm

2009-11-04T20:04:00.000-06:00

My time on the farm was an intense period of reflection. More of a lesson in spirituality than agriculture.

It's not at all what I expected, but I don't think life can prepare you for the phenomena and personalities I witnessed there.

I don't own words to describe what that place was like and the things that I saw. I haven't fully digested it all yet and not sure I ever will. Ask me for details the next time I see you in person. It's a story worth trying to get out of me...trust me.

I used to think I was open minded, but my time in the community and with my fellow WWOOFERs has put a giant crack in a wall I never realized existed in my head.

I'll take with me a belly full of pasta, a new appreciation for good olive oil, a bag full of tasty preserves (a goodbye gift from the farmers) and the ability for complete acceptance...even when it comes to the completely unexpected.

On Your Mark, Get Set, Andiamo!

2009-11-02T04:40:00.002-06:00

Woke up this morning at 5:50 to catch the first bus off the farm. It's about a 20 min walk to the bus stop.

Pouring rain. Pitch black dark...not too many lights on that early when you live on a farm in the hills of nowhere.

As I round a rocky bend up a hill and away from the farm, I realize I have exactly enough time to just barely make it. Speed walking. Flip flops. Giant backpack on a not so giant person.

Look down at my phone. I really don't have enough time to make it.

Running.

Chestnut shells all over the road. Ouch.

Rocky path turns to massive mudslide hill. We're talking thick, gooey mud.

I suddenly feel like I'm on the second leg of some kind of hippie farmer triathlon.

My flip flops aren't cooperating with the mud. My body feels like I'm running, but I'm barely moving. Just sticking and sliding in the mud. Panting in the rain.

Throw the flip flops off. Sprinting barefoot uphill in muddy, rocky darkness. Soggy, heavy bags. Gross.

I find relief for a moment as I splash through a big puddle and some of the sharp pebbles and twigs wash off the squishy coating of mud on the bottoms of my feet.

It starts to rain even harder.

I'm not even sure if I'm running in the right direction when I look up and see the bus stop just ahead....maybe 15 feet in front of me. I made it!

But then....oh...wait....there...goes...the bus.

Arms flailing in the middle of the narrow road, I scream "Stop! Para! Para! Per favore..."(I'm not even sure if that's proper Italian)

But it doesn't matter. It's too late.

I recently learned the Italian hand gesture for "fuck you!" so I put my fingers together in an angry mudra and shake it at the back of the bus as it speeds away.

And now for the last and most important leg of the hippie farmer triathlon: accepting defeat, doing it all over again, and heading back to the farm to wait for the next bus in two hours.

A true hippie yogi would have to see the light in this situation and know that this was somehow meant to be.

So I took a deep sigh, laughed and felt grateful that I could at least go back to wash the mud from my bare feet and enjoy a hot shower and leisurely breakfast with a nice cup of tea.

Plus, the second time around I got a ride to the bus stop.

A Day in The Life of a Farmer

2009-11-02T03:07:00.000-06:00

I remember when I used to go back to BU to do career fairs and speak at meetings. PR students would always enthusiastically ask me, "What's a typical day like for you at a PR agency?"

And I would always enthusiastically answer, "Well, that's a tough question because no day is ever the same!"

But that's not really true. I pretty much just sat at a computer all day everyday sending emails. Sometimes writing press releases. Picking up the phone every now and then. Occasionally visiting a conference room or office.

That's about it.

If a student were to ask me what a typical day of work here is like, that would actually be a tough question. I came here to harvest olives with the farmers, which I've done my fair share of, but they also:

1. Harvest chestnuts (have you ever seen any right off the tree? They're like little balls of porcupines you have to pry apart with gloves that are way too big for you. Ouch.)

2. Make chestnut butter (also available with apple and rum)

3. Make all kinds of preserves (cherry, strawberry, citrus, tomato, apple, plum, mint, etc.)

4. Feed chickens

5. Move rocks and/or dirt (I did tons of this...ended up with bruises all over my hips. An important lesson: don't carry a rock like you would a baby)

6. Clear and build drainage channels

7. Transplant carrots

8. Forage for mushrooms

9. Pick flowers (including saffron!)

10. Eat fruit you randomly stumble across even though you're supposed to be doing farming chores (including persimmons, pomegranates, rosehips, pears, strawberries)

11. Bulldoze things and light fires

All of these I have either done or witnessed during my short stay here.

I honestly still can't say whether I'd prefer life in a cube or on a farm though. My hands and back are probably equally tired...just in different ways. There are still opportunities for creativity and strategic problem solving skills...again, in very different ways.

But it would be hard to give up the two-hour lunches. How could I go back to 15-minutes eating at my desk?

Genoa and My New Foodie Friend

2009-11-01T12:53:00.000-06:00

The other day a new WWOOFer arrived on the farm. Julia is a German Jewish Brazilian student at the Culinary Institute of America.

We talk food constantly.

It's fantastic.

We decided to sync our days off together, so we could take a day trip to Genova (or Genoa in English) and enjoy a fabulous lunch and Ligurian sights.

How you fill eight hours in Genova as two hungry tourist girls:

1. Stopped by a little bakery for a croissant filled with cream. Hint of orange. Walking breakfast: cathedrals, palazzos, port.

2. Aquario di Genova: The largest aquarium in Italy. My favorite was the room full of tanks with different types of jellyfish. Felt like a beautiful dream.

Also sharks, crocodiles, dolphins, manatees, chameleons, seahorses, octopuses, turtles, sea urchins, all kinds of colorful, glowing fish, and much more. They even had a Finding Nemo tank filled with most of the cast. Adorable!

Plus a 3D movie called the World of Sharks, which was narrated by an insanely romantic, sexy-voiced Italian man pretending to be a turtle.

3. After all that fish ogling, we were very hungry for some seafood.

Julia's Vino Italiano book (by Mario Batali, David Lynch, Joseph and Lidia Bastanich) and the Lonely Planet guidebook both recommended that we make a stop at a Genovese restaurant and wine shop called Enoteca Sola.

It was a tiny place with only about five other tables, which were all middle-aged Italian men eating alone.

We started with antipasto delle "cose buone dell'enoteca" (which means the good things of the house). Lived up to its name with a delicious assortment of potato salad, anchovy with tomato and some kind of greens, fried artichoke, prosciutto and a spinach frittata.

For our entrees we had rotondino di sitello tonnato insalatina (rolled beef thing with spinach and pinenuts) and frittura di occiugle e calamaretti freschi (fried squid and anchovy with raddichio and tomato salad).

And of course I wouldn't be a Cheng and she wouldn't be a culinary student without a few glasses of vino.

For the fried seafood, we had the Vermentino-Imperia-Vigna U Munte Colle dei Bardellini 08. It's well known in this area for its slightly salty finish, which comes from the seaside air by the Ligurian vineyards...or so say Julia and her wine books.

For the beef dish, we had a Rossese Dolceacqua Riserva- E. Guglielmi 06, which is a big grape varietal from Liguria too. Light. Sweet. Fruity. Pleasant.

Finished off with a plate full of freebie cookies and four types of chocolates. We ate half and stuffed the rest in our pockets.

4. Despite having our fill at lunch, we shopped for a lot of chocolate all day. I'll be living off a bag of mini Kinder eggs for the next few weeks.

5. Caffe Balilla and Gelateria. A week and a half in Italy, and this was my first taste of gelato! I ordered a scoop of panera (I thought this would have something to do with bread, but the gelato lady explained it was just coffee...I still don't get it) and another of crema whisky. Basically Irish coffee in gelato form! An inspired choice if I do say so myself.

6. Mercato Orientale. Maze of stalls with fruits, veggies, nuts, meat, cheese, seafood, flowers. Such beautiful produce!

In Case You're Ever at an Italian-Themed Trivia Night...

2009-10-30T14:25:00.001-05:00

When we go to the olive groves, it takes up to just over an hour one way when we hit traffic -- and especially when Gijo is driving.

That leaves a lot of time to learn some good Italian fun facts from my fellow passengers. Here are a few from yesterday:

1. Did you know that Vespa means wasp? Makes sense, right?

2. Balsamic vinegar is just vinegar until its twelfth birthday. Plus, it must be made in Modena to really count.

3. Blackboard in Italian is "lavagna," which coincidentally is one of the towns we drive through all the time and is known for the tons of slate found naturally there and used for chalkboards. I'm not sure which came first.

4. It takes about 100 kilos of olives to make 20 of oil.

So Full on the Farm

2009-10-30T11:52:00.000-05:00

After all these days on the farm(feels like an eternity already!), I am surprised I haven't devoted more energy to recording the food here.

The cook Alessia is a sweet young woman in her early twenties. She'd rather be caring for the donkey, chickens and dogs on the land but somehow got stuck with the role of head chef. The food is at times mediocre at best but sometimes spectacular.

I certainly have not gone hungry though! Mom would be relieved.

We eat all our meals together in the dining hall or at an outdoor picnic table overlooking the sea when we're at the groves.

A basic list of the meals here thus far:

1. Breakfast

Self service and the same every morning

Giant helping of yogurt
Corn flakes
Classic American white bread toast (that's what it says on the package)
Variety of homemade preserves (apple, pear, citrus, chestnut, tomato, plum, etc)
Honey (made on the premises and put on EVERYTHING)
Cafe and tea

2. Lunch

Best meal of the day usually (olive oil drizzled and parmesan sprinkled on EVERYTHING)

French bread and focaccia
Lasagna
Pasta with pancetta tomato sauce
Sandwiches of salami, ham, mortadella, mozzarella, goat cheese, pecorino
Tuna onion salad
Tuna, egg rice
Pizza
Pork with potatoes
Dinner leftovers
Bitter greens
Fritatta
Red wine
Beer
Sparkling water
Apples and grapefruit (picked near the olive groves)

3. Dinner

More bread...more olive oil...more parmesan

Lentil soup
Chickpea soup
Minestrone soup
Pasta
Meatballs
Meatloaf with hardboiled eggs cooked in
Bitter greens
Bitter greens
More bitter greens
Sausage (thanks to me!!!)
Cheese salad with fresh thyme(what an awesome idea...I could eat cheese salad every day. It's basically mozzarella and parmesan with tons of olive oil and herbs)
Red wine (lots of it)
Sparkling water
Sparkling white wine during celebratory moments (which happens surprisingly often)
Tiramisu every now and then

Lessons From the Farm

2009-10-29T17:41:00.000-05:00

1. Sunset Time

On my first day at the harvest Tobias, one of the farmer men who lives here, suddenly stopped mid olive raking:

"Wait! We must stop now and watch the sunset!"

And that is exactly what we all did...and what we've done every day we've been at the olive groves. Can you imagine if every day your boss told you to stop mid email and look outside to stare at the sunset?

Please do this at least once this week for me. I know I sound like a hippie farmer, but whatever you're doing can wait.

I've watched more sunsets and stared at more stars these past three weeks than I have in the last three years. I think I've been sitting inside a windowless cube staring at a computer screen for the majority of those sunsets.

How could I have turned down such a beautiful form of free entertainment all this time? I love free shit.

2. Go with the High Hanging Fruit

So I've discovered that it's not always the best strategy to go after the low hanging fruit first...especially when you step back and look at the tree as a whole.

If you have to rake away the top leaves anyway, you can usually catch a few of the low hangers on the way down. I believe this concept will have multiple applications for future me.

3. Don't Always Take the Stairs

One of the farmers, Giovanni, has been teasing me here about my bizarre little person strength after my climb up the pole the other day. He doesn't understand how I did it or where the strength came from. Neither did I.

I've noticed here that I prefer to go after the highest olives...even though I'm the shortest person.

I nominated myself to carry all the biggest rocks and buckets of dirt down a hill when we were renovating some drainage channels...even though I have the smallest arms.

And yesterday I climbed up a hill out of the olive grove...even though there were stairs just steps away.

Giovanni asked why I didn't just take the stairs, and I replied:

"Because this is how I get strong!"

I thought that was very clever of me. I felt like Elle Woods in Legally Blonde when she tells her law professor, "Because I'm not afraid of a challenge."

But I do think it's true. I like to take the harder way out sometimes or put myself in challenging situations for the sake of making it through the experience...to confirm with myself that I'm strong enough to take it.

I think that's what this whole trip is about.

Victory Sausage

2009-10-26T09:26:00.000-05:00

Yesterday we went into Bargonasca because the cultural association had a tai chi, yoga and Japanese sword fighting demonstration at a town street fair.

There were crafts like basket weaving and chair making, chestnut roasting, some local art and a few other random things for sale. We also had a table to sell olive oil, jams and olive wood cutting boards.

The most popular stand was hosted by a group that holds training and adventure activities in the forests near here.

They had a wooden pole set up (maybe 20 feet?), and people could get strapped up in a harness and try to climb up it to grab one of the many prizes at the top, which included bags of apples, bottles of water, candy, stuffed animals and coffee grinds.

We probably saw over a dozen people (all shapes, sizes, genders, ages) have a go at it, but only a young man made it. We were amazed because we all figured it looked extremely easy, but then we watched person after person try and fail less than halfway up.

I decided to try my best shot because I was craving a nice, refreshing bite of an apple. By some miracle I can't explain, I made it to the top. If it weren't for the enthusiastic crowd clapping and cheering me on in Italian, I don't know if I could have made it.

It's nice to have that positive reinforcement to keep going in life...even if you don't totally understand it.

I can say without any exaggeration that that was the hardest every muscle in my body has ever worked simultaneously. When I reached the top, I couldn't imagine picking up that heavy bag of apples, so I swatted at a bag of candy I knew my friend wanted. But somehow I missed.

After I made my triumphant ride down the pole, I looked at my prize and there lie...a bag of sausages.

My farmer family was quite proud and nicknamed me for the evening "gato piccolo" or the little cat.

And this little cat will be feasting on the most delicioso dinner of Italian sausage this evening. It will be the hardest I've ever worked for a meal.

Low Hanging Fruit

2009-10-26T08:41:00.001-05:00

There was a moment during my first day of harvesting when one of the farmers explained to me to pick the low hanging olives by hand first and then move on to the higher branches with the rake.

I laughed to myself.

"Low hanging fruit" was a metaphor my old supervisors in PR threw around a lot with me. I remember the days when it meant the supermarket reporter at the Wall Street Journal or business reporter at the Boston Herald. And now I literally go after low hanging fruit.

How strange is that?

The Harvest

2009-10-25T17:06:00.001-05:00

We drive half an hour away to Cavi, where their olive groves are.

I think they said they have about 500 trees. It feels so satisfying to have purpose again.

How to harvest the olives:

1. Lay nets on the ground all along the trees you'll pick that day. This sounds easy, but there's definitely an art to it. One of the women who is a regular here complimented me on my creativity in arranging the nets so that none of the olives roll down the hill and said I was a natural. Very exciting.
2. We pick the olives by hand (it feels like stripping thyme leaves off their stems) or use a rake to get the higher branches cleared. It's a killer on the neck.

3. The nets catch all the olives on the ground. We roll up the nets and gather all the olives into a central point. Pour them into a crate. Pour those into a burlap sack.

4. And that's it! They send the olives off to be pressed. We've been eating their olive oil with every meal (seriously, we drizzle it on everything at the table), and it's awesome.

You Could Be a Farmer in Those Clothes...or a Member of a Free Love Cult

2009-10-23T19:12:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my first night on the farm. I love it so far.

There are two other Americans (guy from the Cape and girl from St. Louis), an Australian lassie and an Italian woman WWOOFing (World Wide Opportunities in Organic Farming) with me.

They're a lot of fun. They've all done this before at other farms now and have been here for about a week.

It turns out that the farm is part of a "cultural society" of some sort. Not entirely sure what that means yet. Last night the others were being alarmingly vague about what they had discovered about this place as they wanted me to "decide for myself" what I thought of it here.

They do a lot of Asian martial arts and yoga as a part of the society. They also have a leader named Paulo...but maybe now I've said too much.

The word "free love" was used by one of my WWOOF colleagues to describe the situation here.

Yes, NOW I've said too much.

Don't worry though. I'm not going to get sucked into some kind of cult. I can't even understand what anyone is saying.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Train Coma

2009-10-22T17:42:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting in my little cabin. Five empty seats. Just me.

Listening to This American Life to pass the quiet. Ira Glass' voice is so familiar and comforting.

I stare outside, and it looks like New Jersey. For a minute I slip into a train coma and forget where I am.

I put the show on pause when I realize the conductor is standing right beside me saying something loudly.

I don't know what he's saying. Then it hits me that I'm in Italy. This is my life. This is the only time I've ever existed in a country where I don't know a soul.

This is so cool.

I give the man my ticket, and he seems to be satisfied. Every now and then he walks by and says something. I smile and nod.

The scenery changes from asphalt buildings to farm land to beautiful hillsides spattered with pink and pale orange homes. The coastline is outstretched on my right.

I've arrived here via the flight from Iraklion to Athens to Malpensa airport. Then a shuttle to Milan to the Stazione Centrale.

Next I get off the train at Chiavari. Catch a bus to Casali. Meet farmer Giovanni to get a ride to the farm, my home for the next two weeks.

I've made it. All that transportation, and I actually made it.

An Apu Moment

2009-10-22T11:24:00.000-05:00

Oh no.

While sitting here on the plane writing that last post on plane food, I just experienced a serious Apu moment. I was just tempted to steal the leftover little packet of strawberry jam from the rich older Italian lady sitting next to me. She has Louis Vuitton luggage and that perfectly coiffed news anchor kind of hair (Lauren, like our 5th grade homeroom teacher. Mrs. Holden?).

Anyway, they served us breakfast, which, of course, came with the roll. Pris and I have been spending .10-.30 euro on those little jam packets all throughout Greece (we spent a lot of time at supermarkets). And that woman was just going to let it go to waste! The butter too!

It would have gone really well with the loaf of bread I have hiding in my backpack.

I'm not kidding. My bad habit of food scavenging has gone to a new extreme. I wish Pris were here to be my partner in crime; she could be Aladdin!

Strike that. It WILL go really well with my bread...I totally just swiped it. Please don't judge me.

A Note on Plane Food from the Flight to Milan

2009-10-22T11:18:00.000-05:00

Over the years I have developed a rather self-inflicted food snob reputation. Food is very important to me. High quality food is essential.

All the books I read are about food. Most of the paychecks I used to receive went to luxurious meals at NYC and Boston's finest restaurants. My Twitter handle is "ashlovesfood." I based my short-lived PR career around food.

So this next confession may come as a blasphemous surprise, against all values of the food snobbery establishment: I adore plane food. I know I'm supposed to think it's gross, but I secretly look forward to international travel just for those fabulously fake trays of airplane eats.

1. Maybe it's because I grew up eating a lot of TV dinners.

2. Maybe it's how wonderfully organized everything is with all the single serving portions. Boxes of fruit with clear plastic lids. Individually wrapped brownies with walnuts or pineapple chunks.

3. The reliability of those small round rolls that go stale and cold if you don't eat them fast enough. No matter what the meal or airline, they seem to always be there for you.

4. The anticipation of what's under that standard rectangular aluminum lid. I love surprises!

5. Maybe because it feels like free food.

I don't know.

You do start to feel like one of the fat people from Wall-E on the longer flights though. On the way to Europe from NYC, it felt like every time I opened my eyes a pretty flight attendant was standing there and shoving trays of food in front of me.

A Moment of Reflection at the Church of Ayios Titos

2009-10-22T11:11:00.000-05:00

I don't know anything about this church except that Pris and I kept finding ourselves in front of it.

It was on the map, so I took photos (still trying to figure out how to upload photos without a desktop).

I'm not a religious person, but I've always enjoyed being inside sacred places and had a fascination with other people's faiths. When I was younger, I pretended I was Christian and attended services at other people's churches (the Greenawalt's throughout much of childhood) or would show up randomly for Christmas or Easter traditions (often the Kothe's). I played games and tried to fit in at the weekly JAM (Jesus and Me) sessions at the cool kid church in elementary school, and I sang along to the hymns in chapel every morning during high school.

I pretended to be Jewish in my last relationship, perfecting my rugelach recipe and helping host seders for Passover. I've learned to love Jewish baked goods. Sometimes I find myself craving hamantaschen.

When I go inside beautiful places of worship, I actually don't think about God that much. After all these years of trying on other people's religions, He's still kind of a foreign concept to me. Instead I think about the people who have filled these places in the past, and what it means for them. I really admire their devotion and am just grateful that such beauty can come from that. It's such a shame that it doesn't always end up that way though.

Anyway, that day I thought of a fine lady who I think was responsible for one of my last visits to church -- my dearest friend Julia. The BU Gospel Choir can put on a mean show. So I lit a candle in her honor and said my thanks for all the beauty her faith can bring her and for all the joy and laughter she brings to me.

Amen.

Anarchy in Greece, One of the Founders of Democracy

2009-10-22T06:39:00.001-05:00

By the end of my first full day in Crete, I was a big fan of Iraklio. Even the graffiti grew on me.

**photos of my favorite Cretan public wall art to come**

Cretan Fashion

2009-10-22T06:08:00.002-05:00

**Photos of my favorite Cretan fashion statements to come***

Travel Notes: Crete

2009-10-22T05:07:00.000-05:00

I was only here for two nights and one full day. Here's a summary:

1. Arrive in Iraklio (or Heraklion) at night. Get ripped off by cab driver. There goes dinner money. Hostel looks like a dump. Graffiti everywhere. Dark alleys. Sounds like someone is staging a dog fight outside our window. Made me think of the scene from Big when Tom Hanks spends his first night alone in the city.

2. Try to wander around the streets to see the city, but I get scared and want to go home (these days home is wherever my backpack happens to be parked). Pris thinks I'm being a little paranoid.

"There are a lot of women walking around alone. I think it's OK."

"I bet they're hookers."

3. We go home. Handsome receptionist man teaches us to play "portes," one of the three games traditionally played as matches in "tavli," which means board...as in the backgammon board. I win! But just barely.

4. In the morning, we walk about two blocks from Hostel Rea:

"This place is the best! I could totally live here!"

The daylight is like an aphrodisiac, and I quickly fall in love with this city. The bustle of locals reminds me how much I belong living in a city, but there are still quaint streets decorated with welcoming cafes and the beautiful architecture you expect from Greece.

5. Take bus to Palace of Knossos (built between 1700-1400 BC), a true testament to the sophistication and ingenuity of Minoan society. Then hit the Archaeological Museum in Iraklio, where a lot of the artifacts from the Palace and other Cretan goods are stored.

This was one of my favorite cultures I studied in high school art history. I love the contrast of the relaxed fluidity of their more organic forms in comparison to the rigidity of other ancient Greek styles.

The columns are tapered at the ends instead of like the fluted perfection of the Parthenon. The ruins were littered with precious fertility figures with voluptuous women atop "stout buttocks" (quoted from Archaeological Museum label) that would make J. Lo envious, and the frescoes depict slim, limber men partaking in everyday activities like catching fish, wrestling and leaping over bulls.

Wow. That was a lot of arty rambling. Mr. Goodwin would be proud.

Pris and I also spent a lot of time taking silly photos in the Palace's sewer system. They had indoor plumbing! Can you believe it?

Some of the earliest evidence of toilets, much like our modern day johns. Not even the Versaille had working toilets and a drainage system inside the palace, according to the guide of the tour I hijacked.

6. Rest of the afternoon spent shopping. Pris bought a jacket. I bought a sweater for the upcoming cold nights in Italy. The fashion in Iraklio is crazy. I'll post photos soon.

7. Lots of walking. Liberty Square. Fountain of the Four Lions. Church of Ayios Tito. Venetian waterfront port. Trendy bars and quiet cafes.

8. Our last supper together was something very special. Photos to come soon, but here's the menu: boiled greens, fried aubergines, grilled octopus (grilled right outside by the waterfront!), moussaka.

There was this adorable moment when a kitten curled up in the chair next to Pris, and then a dog curled up on the floor beside me to keep us company.

Then the very sweet waitress brought out (on the house, mind you) four shots of Raki, the unofficial official liquor of Crete (I really hope one of my OS buddies reads this to get that joke), which is made from must residue when distilling wine.

PLUS, she brought us a giant plate of hot fried dough WITH vanilla AND chocolate ice cream AND two pieces of halva -- all drenched in chocolate syrup, honey and sesame seeds.

Food coma heaven.

Travel Notes: Sitting in Santorini

2009-10-22T04:22:00.000-05:00

After such an active first full day in Santorini, we spent the next two days pretty inactive by the pool at our hostel.

There was a lot of eating of supermarket food and leftovers out of cans, plastic bags, takeout boxes and aluminum foil, which explains why I didn't feel too motivated to post much this week.

I do have corresponding photos for EVERYTHING I eat, so I'll put those up later. That way you can see just how low Pris and I sunk in the name of frugality.

"We reach new levels of poverty everyday." - Pris, scraping the remnants of stored honey from her ziploc baggie for her yogurt one morning.

The only times we strayed from our beloved home at Stelio's:

1. To restock at one of the several markets just down the street.

There was one night of takeout too, which included some amazing grilled calamari that we split (only 3.5 euro!)

2. To check if any of the travel agencies were open yet to book our ferry to Crete. We ended up not being able to leave until 5:45 p.m. Tuesday.

3. To purchase a loaf of whole wheat bread from an old Greek woman at the 24-hour bakery.

4. To go for a solo super long walk on the beach and through the town at Perissa Beach to see the famous church and get a closer look at the cliff walls.

5. To head to the port our last day to catch the "flying cat" to Crete. Lunch/dinner was a pasticio (Like lasagna. Minced beef. Tomato sauce. LOTS of cheese.) at a seaside cafe. Nothing to write home about...although I guess I just did.

I'm a Blogger...Weird.

2009-10-21T22:48:00.000-05:00

I awoke this morning to my phone gchat buzzing by my head at 4:30 a.m.

"Herrroooooo? U haven't updated your blog since Monday!"

Oh, Jay. I think that just means he's super bored at work this week, but it's still nice to hear that you guys are keeping tabs on me...especially since I haven't followed through with my promised daily "I'm still alive" emails to my sister.

Christina, if you're reading this, tell mom I'm alive and that I saw a bunch of monkey frescoes at the Palace of Knossos and thought of her. More on that later.

Thanks also for all the comments! The anonymity makes me uncomfortable, so can you sign your name if you leave some love? I don't like all the mystery.

I'm at the airport in Iraklio with a two hour layover in Athens before Milan. Lots of time = lots of travel notes to log in!

Travel Notes: Big Day In Santorini

2009-10-19T14:39:00.002-05:00

We took a tour around Santorini. Lots to see! This was probably the most amount of exercise for us out of the whole trip combined.

1. The tour boat. I felt like a pirate. It was wonderful. For the Boston girls who understand this: no eye patches included.

2. Another goal! We hiked to the top of the volcano island Nea Kameni, and I got to take a peak inside one of the craters. The tour guide told us that this isn't one of the oozing lava type of eruptions but the explosive kind! Scary.

If you dig a few inches into the soil, the volcanic ash is so hot that you can boil eggs! I wish someone had told me in advanced, so I would have come prepared with an egg.

3. We took the boat to just off the coast of the hot springs (Iamatika Nepa) at Palia Kameni. The water gets too shallow for the boat to dock, so we hopped in and swam about 100 meters to where the sulfur from the volcano-made island just barely started to heat up the waters. We found out from a local we met on the beach today that there is another hot springs area that actually gets a lot warmer, but they don't bring the tourists there. Oh well. I'm just happy I didn't drown.

4. We docked at Thirasia for lunch (which we both packed in advanced as hyper cheap travelers). Most of the other tourists lunched by the shore, so we ventured to the top of the cliff to check out the view. Anyone without the ridiculously frugal sensibilities we've developed over the last weeks would have paid the 5 euro for a "taxi" aka donkey ride up the steep cliff, but, of course, we opted to climb through the sea of donkey poo instead.

5. Another goal! Befriend a donkey=success. While dodging through their shit along the winding stone pathways, I got to say hi to some passing donkeys and even pet one! They were very friendly. Nobody kicked me.

6. More friends! What a sweet pup. She would have gotten along well with Eleanor Roooosevelt and Xiao Bai back at home.

7. More cliffs. More uphill walking. Exhaustion. View of Oia from the pirate ship..

8. We watched the famous Oia sunset from a ledge on the western edge of the island. I bought a box of cookies and little bottle of red to enjoy the show. Classy, I know.

9. One more goal: Cheers to the girls of 468! Wish you were here with us.

Sighhhhhh...

2009-10-19T05:37:00.001-05:00

Lounge chair. Breeze draped in a Greek flag. Big pineapple looking palm trees. Sunshine peeking out behind clouds. Hot pink and white flowers hanging from balconies. Sounds of trickling pool water. Good book. Perfect Pandora station. Surrounded by happy strangers.

I hope I can always come back to this feeling. And I wish I could box it up and mail it to everyone in my life who needs it more than I do right now.

Travel Notes: Fira and a Plate of Tomatokeftedes

2009-10-18T11:13:00.002-05:00

After about an hour and a half of waiting for the bus, we went into downtown Fira last night and had a fantastic dinner at this place called Ouzeri. Highly recommended to me by strangers on the Internet, and I appreciate their good advice.

Details on the eats:

1. I accomplished one of my goals already! We had "tomato balls," which were more elegantly/authentically titled on the menu "tomatokeftedes" Considering fried pickles (from Freda's Seafood Grill in Austin) and green tomatoes are my favorite fried foods, I was quite excited about these guys.

Did not disappoint as this has been my fave dish in Greece thus far.

Strips of tomatoes balled up with a little bit of mashed potatoes mixed with onions, scallions, dill, mint. Fried with a super light, flaky batter. Some of the cookbooks I've seen here blanch the tomatoes before frying and others just peel and toss in the oil fresh. Ouzeri roasted them first, which added a nice, rich flavor from the caramelized skins.

2. Pris had a standard "village" (Greek to us) salad.

3. We split a huge plate of pasta in a tomato porcini sauce with fresh grilled prawns on top.

4. Pot of chamomile tea with milk and sugar (I slept 12 hours that night and totally thank the chamomile for that).

After a delightful meal, we stopped by the market for some cheap canned foods, which we'll be enjoying for the next few days. Ahh, the life of a cheap traveler.

Goals: Santorini

2009-10-17T06:02:00.003-05:00

We just arrived in Santorini. The dusty brown cliffs of the caldera look very drab against this cloudy sky. Still an awe-inspiring scene taking the s-curves up the steep cliffs from the port to our hostel Stelio's Place at the black-sanded Perissa beach. There's a really classy pool here. It feels like South Beach for only 13 euro a night.

Some goals I was contemplating on the ferry ride over:

1. Befriend a donkey.

2. Find and eat tomato balls (I read in a Greek cookbook the other day that the island is known for them).

3. Stare into the face of an active volcano.

4. Find a Starbucks for Pris (this girl can't handle another cup of instant NesCafe, which seems to be the drink of choice for locals).

5. Watch a sunset at Oia and drink a toast to our gal pals Jenny and Liz (and of course the rest of the girls of 468).

We have three nights here. I think these should be doable.

Off to downtown Fira for dinner...if only we can figure out when the bus comes.

The Three Hour Scenic Rollercoaster Ride AKA We Missed Our Stop Three Hours Ago

2009-10-16T11:33:00.001-05:00

My dear friend Jenny has a philosophy about "losing" things that I really appreciate and think applies well to many of the predicaments we've encountered in Greece.

She "lost" her camera a while back, but insists that it's not actually "lost" because she just refuses to look for it. I love this idea.

Pris and I are not "lost" right now...approaching our fourth hour on a bus through the mountains of Naxos. We're just not actively trying to make our way back to the village we missed several stops back and are instead just enjoying the ride.

A few lovely sites we would have missed today had we gotten off at the right stop:
1. Many adorable baby sheep, goats and donkeys. We just drove by a little cow peeing.

2. The high school aged boy who called Pris "very beautiful!!!" as he exited the bus.

3. The friendly bus assistant man who informed me that the cute goats I was photographing would be "tomorrow...kill! Kill!" (As he made a thrashing motion across his throat and then mimed the universal sign for eating as he joyfully brought an invisible spoon to his lips several times).

4. What must be the scariest, steepest, windiest roads in Greece.

5. Impressive bus driving skills. How have we not crashed into the side of a mountain yet?

6. Little beach cafe at Appolonos where the bus took a 20 min break before circling back to our original destination. Had Greek coffee, fried eggplant, and Kalitsounia (flaky turnovers filled with salty, tangy mezithra cheese).

7. A lot of awesome Greek pop music.

This trip is slowly teaching me to detach from plans and expectations. It's hard to get upset about the potential for getting "lost" when you're surrounded by so much beauty and such intriguing new experiences, people and sights. There really are no wrong turns.

Travel Notes: Mykonos (the good part)/Delos/Naxos

2009-10-16T11:09:00.003-05:00

Highlights from the trip post scary Mykonos hostel experience:

1. Have Lamb Ampelourgo (wrapped in grape leaves and stuffed with carrots, cheese and onions) for dinner. Make friends with the owner, "Uncle Nikolai."

2. We spend the evening wandering around the quaint, winding streets of the town. The buildings are bright white and accented by cheerful colored doors and window panes.

3. Go to Delos in the morning. An amazing island where Leto gave birth to Apollo and Artemis. I love this place. So much history crammed into such a very tiny space. No permanent population. The Delian League created a law back in the day that no one could be born or die here! We climb Mt. Kythnos. More of a big hill, but the views of the Cyclades islands and Delos ruins are still awesome.

4. Watch the sunset under the famous windmills back at Mykonos. Enjoy a picnic of leftovers (lamb sandwich) and red wine.

5. Two bottles of wine later...we decide to hit the town. Despite it being the off-season now, Mykonos still lived up to its reputation as a massive party island.

6. We spend the next day recovering from our dance party the night before. Catch a ferry to Naxos in the afternoon.

7. First day in Naxos consists of sleeping and watching Greek television in our hostel (meaing random American TV shows with Greek subtitles and lots of BBC).

Horror Hostel at Paradise Beach

2009-10-13T14:18:00.000-05:00

According to my travel book, Mykonos "glimmers happily under the sun...as a fabulous destination." Other words used to describe it include: glamorous, celebrity-filled, style and panache. I wish our expectations for what we would actually find at the end of our five-hour ferry ride would have been managed more realistically -- an important lesson I learned during my few years in PR.

Imagine a mix of what would be National Lampoon's Greek Getaway, except with Pris leading the way (I'm not allowed to lead anything now that she's discovered my hopeless sense of direction) instead of Chevy Chase, and Simple Life, except with two frugal Chinese girls instead of Paris and Nicole.

Throw in the following, and you'll have a good sense of what it was like to spend a night at the 11-Euro a night Paradise Beach Resort (ironic, right? I know, we should have guessed from the cheap price tag on an island known for overpriced luxury).

1. Arrive at around 22:00 and informed that there are no restaurants, bars or groceries open anywhere near the place. The actual town of Mykonos or "Hora" is a 30 min cab ride away, and even then, places might not be open because it's the off season (later found out that that's not true at all).

2. There are no towels. Luckily, I brought a Sham-Wow gifted to me by my dear friend Liz. Not so lucky for Pris.

3. Escorted past Pigeon House (a house full of birds at night can be very creepy) and through dark sandy pathway to rows of white wooden tents.

4. Side note: Pris' one condition on this trip was that she would help me save money by staying in cheap hostels, but she refused to go camping. While we had bathrooms within walking distance, the little tents with plants growing through the floors were still too much.

5. Haunted by ghosts of mosquitoes past through blood spattered, dead bug covered walls. Not exaggerating on this one.

6. Startled by what sounds like a cat being murdered outside.

7. Debate a while over what to do to kill time, since we both just took a five-hour ferry nap.

8. Went to bed hungry.

9. Woke up (faces covered in mosquito bites). Place looks way less scary in the daylight, except that we realize our tent is basically inside a giant litter box. Cat poo everywhere.

In the end, it really wasn't tooo bad, and we're both happy we went. Pris is even happier that we've upgraded to a 17-Euro a night place in downtown Mykonos with real walls, our own bathroom, mini fridge and clean towels.

Travel Notes: Leaving Athens for Mykonos

2009-10-13T01:48:00.000-05:00

This one was a big travel day...not much else:

1. Made a solo trip across the street from the hostel (managed not to get lost) to get a quick glimpse of Temple of Zeus and Arch of Hadrian.

2. Took train to Piraeus port. Successful trip with no navigational complications. Discover the only ferries leaving for Mykonos are from Rafina on opposite end of town. Scenic route!

3. About two and a half hours later, find a nice spot in Rafina for boiled octopus in vinegar, fried cod with garlic mash and a typical Greek salad with delicious block of feta (36 euro with drinks). Served halva with candied grapes (we weren't big fans of this homemade dessert, but at least it was free).

4. Five-hour ferry ride. Mostly napping. Thank God (actually Joey) for 31 episodes of This American Life.

Travel notes: Athens

2009-10-11T17:13:00.001-05:00

We arrived yesterday afternoon, and have had an amazing time with good food and tons of wandering around this city mildly lost:

1. Took us about an hour to locate each other at the airport. It was like going back in time before cell phones.

2. Staying at Dioskouros hostel right outside of the Temple of Zeus and arch of Hadrian (which Pris originally thought was a billboard...crazy how you just stumble upon ancient artifacts EVERYWHERE in this town though).

3. Explored the Plaka and split a tasty pork souvlaki and carafe of red for dinner.

4.Spent the entire first morning at the acropolis. Mistook every building with columns for the Parthenon on the way there...so much for years of art history education. Caryatid porch on the Erechtheion was our fave. Damn Elgin and his marbles though.

5. Got Pris extremely lost trying to find the flea market and found ancient agora, church of apostles, museum of atalos, palace of giants and temple of hephaestos instead. Upon later inspection, discovered that we walked right by the market. Oops.

6. Lunch was at this sweet outdoor cafe on a hill (all the tables were on steps) and consisted of a sample mezze plate: meatballs, sausage in a red pepper/onion sauce, dill potato salad, fried cheese, super fresh tomato/cuc salad. 5 euro.

7. Snack time at a pastry shop on the way home: super sweet little baklava type treats.

8. Had what we imagine is equivalent to Greek Burger King for dinner: spinach pie and ham/cheese pastry (4.35 euro total) plus bottle of 3.5 euro red local wine. Enjoyed the view of Hadrian's arch from sketchy bench.

Bon Voyage Mon Petit Choux

2009-10-10T13:57:00.000-05:00

People who know me well..or more likely have even met me at least once...know that I don't much care for children. Sometimes I wonder if it's because I still feel quite child-like inside and am very often mistaken for a small child on the outside as well.

I will, however, make an exception for French speaking children until about the age of six. I'm stopping over the airport in Geneva on the way to Athens, and there are chatty French speaking kids everywhere! I love it! I think the fascination stems with the worldly sophistication I associate with all things French. It's like, look at that very small person talking like a grown up! How funny!

I wonder if people look at me and have the same thought.

Goodbye, America.

2009-10-09T02:46:00.000-05:00

It's the eve of my big departure from the US. I can't believe it's finally here. Today was a big day:

1. Finally know where I'll be sleeping in Athens this Saturday.

2. Finally started the application process to my Taiwan visitor visa (which I will be receiving tomorrow shortly before I board my flight at JFK).

3. Finally booked my flight from Italy to Spain.

4. Finally got back in touch with the lovely farm I'll be staying with in Italy! Apparently, they are "just starting with the olive harvest now!" and "the boys will be going to lay the nets from tomorrow, so the picking will start as of next week."

5. Finally got email set up on my new blackberry (which I received in the mail 30 minutes after being dropped off at the airport in Austin).

6. Just realized that I've already changed dramatically from this trip, and it hasn't even begun yet. What happened to the perfectionist planner of a few months ago? If this were a client event, I would have had multiple drafts of itineraries, briefing documents and key messages already prepared.

Would you like an egg roll with that?

2009-09-23T23:29:00.000-05:00

It's fitting that the first stop on my recently announced world food tour opens right where my love of food began -- my mother's Chinese restaurant in Austin, Texas. I've spent the last couple of weeks scribing takeout orders, seating tables and trying not to bankrupt the place while the boss lady is on vacation.

Here are a few mildly sad things that keep me going while "running" the restaurant:

Seeing how many customers I can convince to order an extra side of soup or egg rolls on the phone. I think I have about an 80 percent success rate.
Planning my next lunch order and trying to come up with food combinations from the kitchen that taste as little like Chinese food as possible.
Spotting exitting customers before anyone else and being the first to yell "Thank you! Bu-bye!"
Hiding behind the bar to avoid people I recognize from childhood (luckily when there are a lot of takeout orders lined up, I can just barely see over them).
Talking to customers with my Chinese mom accent (as an unfortunate side effect, I noticed that I sometimes bow to departing customers now).
Coming up with fun, new spins on the traditional "Thank you! Buy-bye!"
Getting better takeout tips than anyone else.