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Around the world travel, Backpacking, Bucket List, Cuba, long term travel, Travel, Varadero

A Break from our Break in Varadero

January 5, 2017

We wake the next morning with one thing on the mind and one thing only, the beach. We pack up a day bag, grab breakfast at Cafe Ria (because it was so good yesterday), and begin the walk to the beach. We take a different route today, walking on a street parallel to the beach passing stall after stall of souvenirs. Sombreros, sundresses, tee shirts, postcards, jewelry, maracas…you name it, you can find it. Shops are interspersed with street side cafes and cantinas and the occasional casa or apartment complex.

We continue down this road to the to the bus station to inquire about transportation back to Havana, only to find out that all buses the following day are fully booked. I refuse to worry. I’m officially in a Cuban state of mind, and I tell Christy we shouldn’t worry… we will sort something out. It’s hot and we don’t want to sacrifice any more beach time, so we head straight there.

We cut across a couple of side streets and look for access to the beach. Much of the beach front is taken up by all inclusive resorts, where you have to be a paying guest to rent chairs and umbrellas or even be served a drink. We quickly find out they won’t budge on this rule and begin to seek out a public entryway to the beach, our dreams of reclining and being served fruity drinks from coconuts shattered. We find public entry to the beach at the top of the next street, next to a construction site for a new all-inclusive spot that will be opening next year. At the end of that small street is a little cantina that sells cheap Cristal and strong mojitos in plastic cups. This will work perfectly!

We attempt to set up our spot on the beach, but it’s impossible for me to take my eyes off the view. To the left and right of us is powder white soft sand for miles, and in front of us, as far as the eye can see is the most beautiful crystal clear aquamarine ocean. It’s one of the most pristine beaches I’ve ever seen. 

We dump our bags, strip out of sweaty cover ups and run down to the waters’ edge. The water is luke warm and inviting, and we wade out about 30 feet or so, playing in the small waves. As the water laps my shoulders, I look down and realize I can still see my pink toenail polish. I am well-traveled, but I have never been in water like this. 

We spend the day frolicking in the ocean, walking along the beach, and sunning ourselves with the surrounding half naked German, Canadian and Italian tourists. And occasionally, we pop back to our little cantina for a mojito or two. I can spend hours here and we do. But as the light changes to a softer shade, indicating the arrival of evening, we are reminded that we still have no way of getting back to Havana tomorrow.

We pack up and walk along the beach, back to the direction of the roadside stand where Pedro & “Potpourri” work. Before we stop in to visit with them, we pay a visit to the nearby all inclusive resort, where we manage to steal wifi for a few minutes. On the front steps of the hotel, we quickly check email and texts and I send my dad a “Happy Birthday” message. Then a beat up 90s Nissan pulls up. Without hesitation, I walk over and ask the driver if he wants to take us to Havana tomorrow. We agree on the price of 30 CUC and a pick up time of 9am outside Cafe Ria. Well, that was easy. With that sorted, it’s now time for happy hour and our last night in Varadero.

Around the world travel, Backpacking, Bucket List, Cuba, Travel, Varadero, Viñales

Viñales to Varadero

January 4, 2017

Christy only has a few more days of holiday, so our plans are to head to Varadero for a couple of beach days before going back to Havana, where she will return to the US and I will travel further east into Cuba.

As we’re wrapping up breakfast at Casa Izzy, we see an old green Land Rover pull up outside. Barbara comes in to let us know our ride has arrived, so we grab our bags and head downstairs. As we get closer to the road, we see that the Land Rover is packed to capacity – not just with people, but with bags too. After a couple of minutes of people getting disgruntled, two passengers bail, our bags are tossed in the back, and we’re both told to squeeze in the front passenger seat.

I sit squashed between Christy and the car door and watch as we leave Viñales, once again climbing through the forest and descending onto a potted road that leads to the autopista. The Land Rover accelerates loudly and leaves a trail of fumes behind us, but it handles the potholes in a way Louis’s neon orange sports car never could. I roll down the window and let fresh air hit my face as we again pass horse and buggies, bicyclists, work trucks, tour buses and classic cars.

Today, I feel like I’ve found what I call my ‘traveler’s groove.’ Six travelers sit crammed on two benches in the back of the Land Rover, with our backpacks strewn at their feet.  All of us are off to various places east of Havana, and we’ve entrusted our lives to this stranger, whose job it is to deliver us safely to Varadero, all for the price of 40 CUC. I am in my element!

I dig the Lonely Planet Cuba book out of Christy’s backpack and spend the morning reading the ‘History” section, venturing as far back as the country’s pre-colonial days and then landing in more familiar territory when I get to the names Batista, Castro & Guevara. One and a half hours later, we pull over at a little rest area for a break, my mind trying to sort the hundreds of years of history I’ve just crammed into it. We decide it’s late enough in the day for a cold beer, grab a Cristal to go, and continue on our journey to Varadero.

We cross Havana and head east, trucking across flat farmland. I can smell rain in the air and roll up the window as fat raindrops start to land on the windscreen. We’ve dropped a couple of passengers at a bus station on the outskirts of Havana, but Christy and I have decided to stay up front with our driver, Esteban, who educates us on Cuban pop music and points out his hometown as we pass it.

We’re soon arriving in Varadero, which immediately feels as touristy as Old Havana but without the charm and appealing architecture. The strip of beach to our left is lined with high rise after high rise and interspersed with small shopping centers. Fortunately, we’re staying at an Airbnb just south of here in an area called Santa Marta, which is like what Vedado is to Havana. Choc full of traffic and locals, I feel like we’ve made a right turn back into authentic Cuba.

After about an hour of driving around looking for where we’ll be staying, we finally connect with Irenia, who runs Santos B&B. We bid farewell to Esteban and follow Irenia as she welcomes us in and gives us a tour of the apartment where we’ll be staying for the next two nights.

We take a late lunch across the road in the little courtyard garden of Cafe Ria and then walk the 30 minutes to the beach area to scope out a place for tomorrow. We find a little snack stand en route to the beach and meet Pedro and his sidekick, who refers to himself as ‘Potpourri.’ They gift us piña coladas and make us promise we will return the following day.

We catch a glimpse of the beach before the sun has set entirely and then grab a taxi back to our neighborhood. We find a little market and grab a bottle of coke and settle into the chairs on our small patio. I dig through my daypack and pull out the cigars and rum we were gifted in Viñales, and we pour a couple of rum and cokes, toasting to a good travel day and our first night in Varadero.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Around the world travel, Backpacking, Bucket List, Cuba, Havana Club, Pinar del Rio, Travel, Viñales

Horsing Around in Viñales

January 3, 2017

While Barbara is preparing our breakfast, I step out onto the balcony of Casa Izzy. Heavy clouds hang above the mountains in the distance threatening rain, and a chill is in the air. I head back inside to grab a cup of coffee and a spread of fresh fruit, toast, eggs and juice is laid out on a small table in the living room.

As we’re finishing breakfast, Michael, our guide for the day, comes to collect us at the casa and walks with us down a small dirt road to a muddy farm area where a few other travelers are waiting. He begins assigning us to our horses. Mine is named Carmelo, and looks a little worse for wear! As I plant my left foot in the stirrup and swing my right leg over the horse, I say a little prayer that I’ll get off the horse in the same condition I’m getting on it. We set out for our morning tour of Viñales.

Our first stop is Torres Family Farm, where we’re greeted by Alex, who begins our tour by offering us a fresh, organic mojito. Alex takes us into a barn area, that sits surrounded by fields of tobacco. Inside, the leaves are hanging to dry. Alex explains that the fields are planted in December and within two months, they have one meter tall plants. These plants are then hand collected by the ten people who work on the farm. (No machines are used at all.) The leaves then go into a dry house where they hang for two months. And then, the fields are replanted. The tobacco season last six months, and the rest of the year, the land is used to grow corn, sweet potatoes, and other vegetables.

Alex takes us to a small table next to the dry house where he begins to demonstrate how a cigar is rolled. He explains that the tobacco they grow is similar to what you would find in a Montecristo no. 4, full of honey and vanilla flavors. He tells us this is what Che smoked. 

We find out that 90% of their leaves are sold to the government and 10% are for saved for the workers and community. We meet Raul, a farm employee, who is taking a morning smoke break.

I realize that people here smoke a lot, and I wonder if people ever share a cigar, like people sometimes do a cigarette. I ask the question and Alex shoots me a sideways look and says, “You have boyfriend? You share your boyfriend with other girls?” Question answered…

Alex gifts us each a cigar and we bid farewell, heading off to our second stop, which is a small rum plantation about 20 minutes away. To call this a plantation is a bit of a stretch. It’s more a collection of picnic tables covered by a thatch roof. Old plump men wearing sombreros and playing banjos visit the tables pouring generous samples of rum and taking orders for mojitos and piña coladas.

We learn that what we’re drinking isn’t exactly a rum or a whiskey for that matter. It’s a spirit endemic to the Pinar del Rio region, called Guayabita del Pinar. It’s called Guayabita for the little guava fruit that sits in the bottom of each bottle. We each feel the need to take one of these home, so we purchase a bottle each, shove them in our backpacks and hope they survive the afternoon on horseback.

We travel further into Viñales, following Alex on a narrow path that hugs tobacco farms, crosses creeks and occasionally takes us to a collection of casas that you can scarcely call a village.

The sun is blazing as we begin to cross Viñales Valley, an open field which ultimately leads us to Indian Cave. We tie the horses to a tree and head into explore these caverns that were only rediscovered in 1920.

From here, we trot back to town, arriving by mid-afternoon. We freshen up at the casa and head out to sort transport from Viñales to Varadero for the following day. It’s been a short stay in Viñales, but one I’m glad we didn’t miss. It has been our first taste of the authentic Cuba I felt I was missing in Old Havana.

We head to a little bar after dinner and sample some Havana Club aged rums, toasting to another good couple of days…any excuse really. This is Cuba after all!

Around the world travel, Backpacking, Bucket List, Casa Izzy, Cuba, Travel, Viñales

Adios Vedado, Hola Viñales

January 2, 2017

We have loosely organized transport to Viñales through Carlos, the owner of the Airbnb we will stay at when we return to Havana. I say loosely because we’ve had trouble confirming the transfer and our day of travel is coinciding with a national parade to honor the late Fidel Castro. Apparently, the city will come to a standstill later today.

At around 9am, we head down to the corner outside our apartment in Vedado and wait. We have no idea who we are waiting for and when they may show up…but about 15 minutes later, a guy driving a neon orange sports car careens around the corner of 12th, waving at us. There is no mistaking this is our guy. He pulls over in a nearby driveway, gets out and introduces himself as Louis, as he throws our backpacks into the small trunk.

As we get into the car and reverse out the driveway, Louis begins to renegotiate the cost of the drive that we tried to confirm with Carlos yesterday. “It’s a holiday…It’s very far…” Louis explains. We reconfirm the price and I wonder if travel will be like this throughout the trip. As we reach the city outskirts, I decide I’m not going to worry about this.

Literally less than 10 minutes into the drive, I feel like I’m witnessing the authentic Cuba I had so hoped to see. It’s here and it’s everywhere once you get out the confines of the city. Undeveloped land surrounds us on both sides of the autopista, which is potted with deep potholes Louis aggressively tries to avoid.

We pass classic cars, people on horseback, horse & buggies, work trucks transporting large groups of people, tour buses and bicyclists. Louis chastises everyone who drives faster than him and then puts his foot down so hard the speedometer needle is hovering around 120 km/hr. I try to get comfortable in the back, but we’re either dodging tour buses or ingesting fumes from the classic cars in front of us.

Two hours later, we exit the highway and begin a long journey along an even shittier road to Viñales. Colorful houses line the roads, and laundry hangs in almost every front yard. A few propaganda signs sit at intersections and roundabouts – those paying tribute to Fidel or mocking the US government.

We begin climbing a winding road surrounded on either side by dense forest. On the descent, Louis tells us we’ll be arriving soon.

As we make our way up the main street which seems to mark the entry and exit to the city, I know I will like Viñales. It’s night and day from the bustling crowds of Havana.

Louis winds his window down and stops a few people in the street to ask for directions. We’ve been told by our contact on Airbnb that many people in Cuba don’t know “dresses” and will invite you to stay in their casa, so she has sent us directions to go past the church and turn left after the clinico. We manage to find the correct street and a lady standing on a pink balcony on the second floor of a small apartment complex sees us and comes down to retrieve us.

We are staying in a small room at Casa Izzy, which sits off to the side of a small living room and kitchenette. Just outside the door is an identical space to ours where Barbara, the manager, and her family live. Barbara gives us a tour of the casa and shows us our room, which is bright and white, has two full beds and an en suite bathroom. She shows us where breakfast will be served and gives us a book full of activities we can partake in while here. We sign up for a 15 CUC horeback riding tour for the following day and head out to explore Viñales.

We walk down the main street, Calle Salvador Cisneros, past the church which seems to be where everyone congregates and head down a dirt road that eventually leads to farmland and horse pastures. We wander for a little bit, soaking in the peacefulness of this place before looping back to town.

We head to La Colonial for a couple of cold beers and then explore the local market, which is full of trinkets – shell jewelry, Che Guevara souvenirs, matchbox classic cars and kids toys made from coconut shells. We venture down a side street and stop to watch a group of men who are playing a game of dominoes in the last slivers of daylight.

We find a Mediterranean restaurant where a line is beginning to form, take this as a good sign, and join the line. Cuban food is good, but one meal without rice and meat will be welcomed. We order risotto and cannelloni  and split a bottle of passable wine.

After dinner, the sleepiness of Viñales is getting its hold on us. After our crazy Havana nights, we welcome a chill evening. We head back to Casa Izzy, confirm our morning pick up for horseback riding and before Christy has even finished brushing her teeth, I am well away.

 

Around the world travel, Backpacking, Bucket List, Cuba, Havana, Travel, Travel Wishlist

Feliz año nuevo desde Havana

January 1, 2017

We venture out the next morning and explore some of Vedado. Wayne has told us we must eat at Starbien, so we walk over to make a reservation, only to find out they’re closed until January 3rd.  Still, we get to see some side streets of the neighborhood we’re staying in, and then we jump in a cab and head back to explore more of Old Havana. 

We grab a coffee at Cafe Wanda before heading down Obispo. We duck into old bookshops, markets, giftshops and the occasional bar. Around 12:30, we stop at Lluvia d’Oro and watch as the old bartenders whip up mojitos.

We order a round of Bucaneros before heading on to Plaza Vieja, where we sit and watch the world go by. Tourists cross the square, local kids play a game of soccer and a stage is being set up for New Years celebrations.

We walk south down a side street to the waterfront and see cruise ships docked in the harbor. Then we loop back to the Malecon with El Morro on our right. At El Cabana, the live music lures us in, so we stop for a mojito and a snack. When the band goes on break, we head up towards Parque Central and watch as a black 50’s Chevy delivers whole cooked pigs to private homes. They’re even wearing little sombreros. I have a feeling I know what we will be eating New Year’s Day!

 

We head back to Vedado and get ready to go out for the evening. It’s New Year’s Eve, and we have no plans but aren’t concerned about having any trouble finding fun. We head back to Old Havana and decide to try El Floridita again. We weasel our way up to the bar and order daiquiris and see a statue of Hemingway in the corner, bellied up to the bar. We watch as tourists make their way to the corner for a photo opp.

From here, we head back to El Escabeche to see our friends from the previous night. David spots us and says he’ll take us to a private paladar for some food, but they are full, so we grab the last table at the restaurant connected to El Escabeche and sample the best roast chicken, rice and beans I’ve ever had. Midnight strikes as we’re finishing up our meal, and we all get up to head into the bar through a little door in the corner of the room. The kitchen staff files out of the kitchen and a short, plump Cuban woman grabs me and kisses me on the cheek, wishing me a Happy New Year.

We stay and drink and dance and watch from the door of bar as people run up and down the streets dodging the buckets of water that people are throwing from the balconies above. Later that night, we make our own escape and manage to make it to a cab without getting doused.

 

New Year’s Day is a slower start. We take a long walk along the Malecon to the Hotel Nacional, where we stop in to look around and have a cold beer in the courtyard. We then head back to Vedado for a late lunch at La Catedral, which is seething with locals…always a good sign in my book. 

We indulge in ropa vieja and a bottle of red wine. The meal is worth the wait and we top it off with cortados for afternoon stamina. We spend the late afternoon strolling the back streets of Vedado, which leads us to the waterfront where a small group of people fish as the sun sets.

We loop back to our apartment on 23rd & 12th, and I could easily call it a night, but it’s our last night with Sarah, so we hail a taxi back to Old Havana to a little street we walked by yesterday. It’s lined with a number of restaurants whose tables spill over onto a narrow cobblestone street. Here we find Cafe de los Artistas.

We settle into bar seats and make friends with Allain, the mixologist, who is creating cocktails that are so pretty I feel bad drinking them. Lestian, the manager, finds us a table outside and helps us order some tapas. He comes back and gifts us Romeo y Julieta cigarillos for us as a consolation for having to wait so long for a table.

After dinner, when the staff has wrapped up work for the evening, they sit and join us for a nightcap. We toast a Havana Club aged rum and light up our little cigars… to our last night as the three amigas!

 

Around the world travel, Backpacking, Bucket List, Cuba, Culture Shock, Havana, Travel

Welcome to Cuba…

December 30, 2016

I’m going to be honest…I don’t know what to expect from Cuba… Sure, I’m familiar with the stereotypical things – vintage cars, cheap rum, good cigars, and I’ve heard arriving will be like stepping back in time. But, as usual, I am willfully unprepared and have done little planning other than to sort a few night’s accommodation along the way.

On December 3oth, a good friend drops me off at Mangonia Station near West Palm Beach to take the TriRail to Ft. Lauderdale International Airport. After a one-hour train ride and a shuttle bus to Terminal 1, I head to the Southwest desk to check in for my flight. I’m told to head downstairs to a separate check-in area where an employee, who’s appropriately sporting a fedora, tells me to head to the visa desk, get my visa, then come back and get in line to check in. After waiting in many lines and talking to many people, I have the appropriate visa for Cuba and am checked in.

The gates are crammed full of people traveling home from their Christmas holidays and off on their New Years jaunts, and I make my way to B-7 for boarding. I snag an exit seat next to an American guy, Wayne, who sort of resembles Robert De Niro. He’s traveling home to Havana, where his Cuban wife is waiting for him. He looks at me and asks if this is my first visit to Cuba, and at my response, proceeds to spend the entire duration of the one-hour flight making suggestions of where to eat, what to see, what to eat, where to drink, and where to dance. He makes notes on the print out of other recommendations someone had kindly emailed to me and jots down his address and his cell phone number.

Upon landing, I quickly fill out the numerous arrival forms handed to me at the beginning of the flight, grab my bag and walk with Wayne to the arrival hall. He suggests I change a small amount of currency at the airport, but not all of it. I can get a better rate in the city, he says.

Arrival is seamless, despite hearing horror stories of hour long waits to clear security and customs (they x-ray EVERYTHING coming in), and Wayne and I say goodbye. My friend Christy’s flight has just arrived, so I scoop her up and we head off to find our other friend Sarah, who is waiting in the arrivals area outside.

Outside and to the left is a concession stand that sells cold beer, rum, cigarettes and a few snacks. The area is seething with people, but we grab a hightop table we can stand around, order  a cold Bavaria beer each and watch as people drive their vintage cars around the arrival loop road, looking for the people they’re picking up.

The air is humid and smells of car fumes, but there’s a lightness to it. No one is in a hurry. We are already experiencing Cuban time.

We wait for Arianna, who meets us to assist with our airport transfer and help get us settled in at the Airbnb we have booked. I guess all she had to do was look for the three white girls at the airport, so her job wasn’t too difficult. After our hellos, we finish our beers, grab our bags and squeeze into a kelly green 1950s Chevrolet and make our way to Vedado.

We drop our bags at our Airbnb on 23rd & 12th and attempt to change money. After learning that most banks would be closed until after New Years, I audibly thank Wayne for suggesting we change a little bit of money at the airport, and we jump into a taxi with Arianna still in tow and head to Old Havana.

We pass the iconic Hotel Nacional and make a right to drive along the Malecon. By this point in time, it’s nearing end of day, and as we drive, we watch the waves splash up and over the Malecon, splashing the road, the cars and the occasional passerby.

We drive up Parque Central and jump out near Hotel Ingelterra. I can tell we’ve entered the touristic area of Havana but can’t help but be awed by the beauty of the architecture. Once ornate buildings have lost the struggle with the test of time, but they manage to hold on to a sliver of their former glory. It is easy to envision just how jaw-droppingly beautiful Havana was in its heyday.

We stop in to Parque Central Hotel, where every tourist seems to be sitting in the lobby and attempting to access WIFI. Here we’re able to change a bit more cash before heading to the eastern part of Old Havana for drinks and a snack.

We find El Chacon and order a round of mojitos, followed by the national beer, Cristal. Arianna is still with us and we get the chance to learn a little bit more about what her life is like. Besides helping out with her cousin’s Airbnb and working as a makeshift tour guide, she also works as an architect/interior designer and as a teacher. Arianna tells us it’s not uncommon for Cubans to have up to two or three side gigs in addition to their main job. We learn she makes the least amount of money from her full time job teaching, bringing in about $20 a month. She makes better money with her design gig, but the most income is derived from her tourism gig.

As we sit in El Chacon, in what feels like the equivalent of a hip European cafe in a touristy part of town, I hope that I will be able to discover the authentic Cuban experience while I’m here. I’m glad Arianna is still with us and that we have the chance to talk openly and candidly with her. She tells us that she (like many other Cubans) has never left the country and despite being (so say) allowed to, it’s almost impossible for Cubans to get the necessary visas.

From El Chacon, we walk over to Obispo, which is filled with even more tourists, but we find a dive bar on the corner called El Escabeche. The place is dimly lit, and a band is set up in the corner belting out Cuban classics. We order a round of mojitos and meet the crew working there. Carlo, is the manager and Armando and Diego are tending bar with Charlie, who claims to make the best mojito. He even won an award in Chicago.

Carlo calls over a young guy, David, from the other corner, and makes him salsa with me. I think to myself that I’m doing good at following the instructions my good friend Christel gave me before I departed for this trip: 1. drink rum, 2. smoke cigars, and 3. dance. We spend a good part of the night in this little hole in the wall spot.

From here, we make our way up the road to El Floridita – a bar made famous by Hemingway. It’s packed to the brim, so we decide to save it for another day and make our way back to the taxi stand near Hotel Ingleterra, stopping to take a peak at the lobby of the Gran Teatro before hailing a cab.

We head back to Vedado and venture to Cinecita, which is directly next door to our apartment. It’s officially sleepy, but we’re just looking for a nightcap, and a table of Cuban men wave us over and insist we sit down. They offer us a taste of everything they have, and we end up ordering plates of cerdo, mashed yucca and ensalada… quite the midnight snack. We wash it all down with a Cristal, bid goodnight to our new Cuban friends and call it a night.

 

Around the world travel, Backpacking, Norway, Oslo

On the Road Again: First Stop Oslo

July 11, 2013
After seven months at home, I am itching to see the world again, but it’s a mad dash to get everything ready to go, especially when I’m leaving for an indefinite amount of time. I leave for the Atlanta airport feeling like I’ve forgotten something important. But at this point, all I need is my passport! I fly to Boston, grab a beer, switch off my phone service and begin the disconnection. I board the flight from Boston to Amsterdam, and when America is two hours behind me, I feel like I begin to settle in for the flight.

Less than a month ago, I was scheduled to head back to Nantucket to work a Summer season, but when everything unraveled at the eleventh hour, I took it as a sign. Here was my second chance to make the decision as to what I was going to do with the Summer. A European Summer adventure was calling my name.

Norway is a country that has been creeping up on my travel radar for quite some time now, and Summer seems to be the suitable time to visit, so the next 8 days will have me traveling through Oslo, Bergen, Alesund and Stavanger (with many small villages and fjordlands in between).

Norway’s Parliament building

First stop Oslo:
After almost 24 hours of travel, I finally arrive in Oslo. I venture to the city center by train and catch a bus to Mathallen. I need to track down Dimitri, a friend of a friend who has offered to put me up for a couple of nights while I’m in Oslo. Dimitri owns a couple of bars in the trendy area of Mathallen (Smelteverket and Dansens Hus Kafe- the first is home to the longest bar in Scandinavia). I find Dimitri, who gives me keys to his apartment and walking directions. I arrive knackered, wanting to sleep, but feeling like I should set out and see Oslo. I decide on a power nap, and after a quick shower, it’s already 6pm, but what I don’t realize is that I have almost six hours of sunlight left today- plenty of time to explore.

Oslo’s waterfront sculptures, near Aker brygge.

I venture out to see Oslo. I take a bus back to the city center and begin walking northwest towards the Royal Palace, passing Parliament, and the National Theatre. The streets are lined with tourists and locals alike, but the pace of this place makes me feel like I’m in a large village as opposed to a capital city.  I walk over to Aker Brygge a waterfront entertainment area, filled with shops, bars and restaurants, Everyone is outside enjoying an end of day beer. Time check: 8:30- and there’s no sign of a sunset anytime soon.

Holmenkollen Ski Jump

From Aker Brygge I loop back to the city center taking my time to get back to Grunnerlokka, where I’m staying. I get back to Dimitri’s apartment, and he and his wife Ingvild ask if I’m up for a drive to the Holmenkollen ski jump. It’s 10:30 p.m. but it doesn’t look, or feel like it, so we hop into Ingvild’s car. The ski jump is perched on a hill above Oslo, and I’m afforded views of the city below. In the distance are the many small harbor islands that surround Oslo and provide city residents with a Summer escape.

We drive back through the city, making a stop at Vigelandsparken sculpture park and garden. It’s 11:30pm now, but a few stragglers are left cleaning up after their evening picnics and barbecues. I can already tell that the Norwegians milk every minute of sunlight in the Summertime, and they highly value their parks and green space.

Ingvild, Dimitri and I roam around the empty sculpture park, taking in the oddly beautiful sculptures of Gustav Vigeland. I know I need to return in daylight for a better look.

We arrive back at the apartment close to midnight. Ingvild and Dimitri have to work tomorrow and I need to will myself to sleep. But I’m looking out the window at 12:30a.m. and the sun is just setting. I retrieve an eye mask from my backpack and realize that if there’s any hope of sleep in Norway over the next week, I’m going to be needing this!

Around the world travel, Backpacking, Bucket List, long term travel

The Bucket List – International Travel

January 29, 2013

People always ask me how I pick the countries I end up visiting. I don’t think there’s a straightforward answer. Inspiration comes from many places, seeing a picture, hearing about another persons adventures, reading other travelers’ blogs, or just being curious about a place because so much IS unknown.

I do have lists though. They are everywhere… in notebooks, on my phone in the “note” section, in old journals… I love finding the old lists, so I can see which countries have drawn me in enough to actually plan the trip and visit. And then I create a new list, carrying over the places I haven’t made it to yet and adding new ones. Obviously, this list is always growing, despite how much I travel and how many countries I cross off.

I don’t know if I’ll make it to every country in the world in this lifetime, but I’m close to making it to all seven continents, and I have 39 countries crossed off the list so far. My goal this year is to travel to another five.

When planning a trip, I like to map out a logical route, so it makes economical sense and so I don’t waste time back-tracking. Unfortunately, the countries on my list right now are random, so it may just be that some are carried over to next year.

Here are the countries I am itching to get to…

Burma– I actually have a current visa in my passport for Burma, but unfortunately, I won’t be using it before February. So Burma stays on the list at number 1. Many think I’m out of my mind for wanting to travel to this “unsafe,” “poor,” “politically corrupt” country, but I’m anxious to get there sooner rather than later. A country which is now truly opening up to the idea of tourism is bound to change by leaps and bounds, and fast…just look at neighboring Thailand. Burma is the country of The Golden Rock, the temples of Bagan and Inle Lake. It’s a country of political unrest and a home to people fighting for democracy, people full of hope for a brighter and better future. Burma is on the brink of change, and while I hope for positive social change for them, I want to get there before there’s too much commercial change. I better hurry.

Norway– What sold me on Norway a couple of years ago were pictures. Just google Norway and browse the images that come up- bright green fjords plunging into deep blue rivers, colorful fishing towns, the aurora borealis. Norway is visually stunning and as a photographer, I can’t wait to get there. I have also met quite a few Norwegians on my travels, and they have added to my fascination with this Scandinavian country. I have had the opportunity to travel to other countries in this region, and I’m a big fan of the cleanliness and order that comes with being in Scandinavia. People are down to earth and systems just seem to work. Let’s face it though, Norway is expensive. This would be a great country to consider some couchsurfing in… A sofa or spare bed to sleep on will help you save some spending money and it always enables you the chance to get a deeper insight into life in a foreign land. (www.couchsurfing.org)

Jordan- I traveled to Israel in November 2011, and I am still kicking myself for not making it to Jordan. But I think Jordan deserves its own trip, and not just a side trip from Israel (or so I’ll keep saying, so I don’t feel too bad). First things first – Petra. I’ve seen the pictures, but I can’t imagine standing in front of, and looking up at this architectural marvel. I love being transported back in time by places, and I imagine this is what would happen here. Pair this with the fact that the Arabic people are some of the most hospitable in the world, and the cuisine is pretty damn good too, and you have the makings of an unbelievable journey. (Jordan remains open for travel, despite the political turmoil of neighboring countries.)

Patagonia– Ok, I realize this is a region comprised of both Argentina and Chile, so consider this a super-sized order. Patagonia’s been on my list since I started traveling hard core about four years ago. I am completely amazed by a place I have yet to visit. It’s all about nature here. I’ll leave electronic devices behind, put a backpack on my back and some hiking boots on my feet, and just go!  But I will make sure to have a camera in my hand. I’m looking forward to the evening when I watch the sun set over Torres del Paine and wake up the following morning to head to Perito Moreno for some glacier trekking. I’ve been dreaming of this for a long time! They say traveling to Patagonia is like traveling to the end of the Earth. In fact, Ushuaia (a jumping off point for exploring Patagonia) is considered the southernmost city in the world, but hold for the next one on the list…

Antarctica– If you find yourself in Ushuaia with some extra time on your hands, rumor has it you can score a week-long Antarctic cruise for around $1000 (USD). Alright, that’s still a good chunk of change, but considering these will set you back around $4000 (USD) normally, you’re saving considerably on this trip of a lifetime. Think about a crisp blue sky and massive white icebergs that are home to polar bears, seals, penguins, whales and albatross, and no one else around you for miles, literally. And if you’re like me, your life goal is to step foot on all seven continents!

Madagascar- Growing up my brother and I had plastic dinner placemats which were maps of the world. After dinner, my dad would always quiz us on the location of places, and I thought Madagascar sounded like the coolest place in the world.  I must admit my ignorance here, and tell you I don’t know much about Madagascar. I know it’s a place considered by travelers to be “the best kept secret.” It’s becoming a more talked about place on travel forums and over late night beers at the hostel. But what is the draw? Well, I think that’s where the intrigue lies here. It still feels like a place to be discovered. Better get there soon before it’s no longer a secret.  (And check out the baobab trees, a definite highlight for photographers!)

New Zealand-Spend the day trekking through terrain and scenery made famous by The Lord of the Rings, and end the day with a meal of New Zealand lamb paired with a local pinot noir or sauvignon blanc. Then head north to a 90-mile stretch of surfbreak. Visit Christchurch or Queenstown for a city fix, or learn about the ancient Maori traditions… I’m sold. New Zealand has so much to offer. The only thing that makes traveling here a challenge is it’s not in my frequent flyer network and the cost of living is high. I hope to make it here sooner rather than later though! (If you’re under the age of 30, you can easily get a working holiday visa- which can help with that whole “money” thing).

So that wraps it up. These are the places calling my name, topping the list. There are other places lingering in the wings – Portugal, Croatia, Hungary, Peru, Japan… but the countries listed above have my attention, and I need to get to see them soon. And now, I wonder, where will 2013 take me?? Which new stamps will my passport hold this time next year, and which places will still be left on the list? What new countries will I discover and add to the list? The adventure, like always, is yet to unfold. And that, my fellow travelers, is the best part.

Stay tuned…Next time I will share some personal advice and useful resources to help you plan your own Around-The-World journey.

Around the world travel, Backpacking, Jewelry, Meshu, Souvenirs, Travel

How Do You Track Your Travels?

January 22, 2013

When I’m travelling, it’s rare for me to purchase souvenirs. First of all, I’m usually on the road for long periods of time, and “things” just weigh down a backpack, and second of all, I don’t really have anywhere to display my travel momentos yet. I am an avid photographer, so my photographs are what I take away from a place. They are a constant sweet reminder of where I have been and all that I have seen.

However, the other day, a friend sent me a link to meshu.io, and told me I should “do this.” I clicked on the link and discovered an incredibly thoughtful and unique way to remember my journey. By plotting pinpoints on a world map, I created a piece of jewelry that followed the same path I took on my journey through southeast Asia from July 2009 to May 2010.

 

Here’s an idea of how Meshu works.

My trip took me from my then home of NYC, back to Atlanta, then to London to see family, Moscow en route to India, then Sri Lanka, Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Hong Kong, Australia, Malaysia, Indonesia (again) and the Philippines. Here’s what my journey looks like on a pendant:

This pendant keeps all the good memories of the places I’ve traveled close to my heart. What a simple, beautiful idea!

If you want to design your own piece, a link to Meshu’s website is below. Happy Travels!
http://meshu.io/

Africa, Around the world travel, Backpacking, Bucket List, long term travel, Marrakech, Morocco, Travel

My First Footsteps in Africa

November 3, 2012
The “Hand of Fatima” believed to bring good luck

I’m not going to lie, Morocco has me quite apprehensive. My latest travels have been to what I consider easy places. I classify those as first world, English speaking, relatively clean countries that have running water, and don’t worry you with stomach bugs and other life threatening ailments. Spending the Spring in Hawaii, and most recently, traveling through Iceland, England and France – it’s all been a cake-walk. Now, I need to get into a different mindset for Morocco.

I try not to carry stereotypes with me when I travel to a new place, but as a solo-female traveler, I do tend to keep my guard up in a place until I can get my bearings as well as a feel for a place and its people.

I had originally hoped to travel by train from Paris to southern Spain and then take the boat from Algeciras to Tangiers, but it was over double the cost of a plane ticket, so I booked a one-way ticket from Paris to Marrakech, and 4 hours later, I find myself in the craziness of this busy city. My first two reliefs when I arrive in a somewhat chaotic place- one- my bag thankfully arrives and two- I find transport at a decent price to a decent place to stay. The rest will fall into place. With my bag in tow, i hit up the ATM for some Dirham and make my way to the taxi line to haggle the price of a taxi to town. I know from research it should cost between 70-100 dihram for the journey. The first guy quotes me 13 Euro, double what it should be. Then it’s 250 dirham- price just went up. I tell him no, and that I want to pay what everyone else pays, so he tells me to wait, while he telephones another taxi. I wait, the taxi arrives, we agree on 80 dirham. I now understand what Morocco will be like.

I am dropped outside Djemaa el-Fna, the main square, and to say it is a maze is an understatement. The cars can go no further, so the taxi driver drops me and tells me to walk straight and then right and I will find my hotel. The streets are swarmed with vendors, diners, people out for an evening stroll, tourists and hagglers. I dodge the hagglers and walk straight, trying not to make eye contact with anyone who wants to sell me a hotel room, a henna tattoo or anything else he has up his sleeve. I do however need directions, cause I have no idea where the hell i am, so I pop into a pharmacy and using the French I so thankfully remember, I get somewhat clear directions to where I’m going. I only have to stop another three times to clarify. After multiple turns down hidden lanes and alleyways, I see Hotel Essouira on a signpost ahead. I feel a sense of relief, but when I arrive, there are no rooms, sorry, try next door.

Hotel Medina’s courtyard

I get a little room in Hotel Medina next door for $10 a night. I drop my bags and venture out for dinner. I haven’t eaten since breakfast so I head to Snack Toubkal, a makeshift cafe created out of plastic garden furniture. I have to wait for a seat, so I’m assured it’s a decent place to eat. I order my first authentic vegetable couscous. I get halfway through the dish, and I can eat no more- it didn’t look like a lot of food, but it sure is filling. I head back to Hotel Medina for a good night’s sleep, and wonder what Marrakech has in store for me.

A typical storefront near Djemaa el-Fnaa

 

The following morning, I head to Bahia Palace to start my tour of Marrakech. I study the map closely and confirm directions with the guy at the hotel. He says, “it’s easy, takes 10 minutes.” I walk away from Djemaa el-Fna, passing stall after stall of shoes, lanterns, leather bags, spices, plates, ornaments, postcards and pashminas. I reach a main road and bear left dodging cars, mopeds, motorcycles and horse-drawn carriages. I do a little victory dance when I reach Bahia Palace.

 

Bahia means beautiful, and it’s appropriately named. Even just stepping onto the grounds of the palace, I feel like I’m taken away from the craziness of Marrakech. Traffic and congestion and the throngs of people are outside the walls of this palace, and I feel like I’ve found some respite. I spend about an hour here, taking my time to study the beautiful architecture, colors, marble and wood carvings that adorn every inch of the palace. I find a spot to sit in the sun in the outdoor courtyard and soak in the silence. This is what I pictured Morocco to be like…this is the old Morocco.

 

 

 

 

I resist leaving because I know I have to re-enter mayhem. I consult the handy guidebook and make a plan. I will head to Badia Palace nearby next. I stroll through a courtyard and make my way to Badia. A few men on mopeds tell me I’m heading in the wrong direction. They are quite used to the number of tourists who inundate this city on a daily basis. One kind man stops, gets off his moped and walks with me, telling me the palace is closed until the afternoon, but he will show me a shortcut. “A shortcut to where?,” I think. I almost feel like I am given no choice but to follow. He says, “no money, just help you.” He leads me through the entrance of a hammam and on the other side, is the Mellah, the Jewish area of the old city.

He leaves me in the good hands of his friend, a spice seller, and before I know it, everything from saffron to sandalwood is being thrown under my nose. He then hands me a box with a pile of white crystals in it and I take a whif… the menthol smell brings me back to reality. “Mint,” he says, “the cocaine of Morocco.” I stroll on down the alleyway, trying my best to ignore the calls of other vendors, and the handfuls of tea being forced into my hands.

Just a handful of the many spices you will find in Marrakech

Although, I’ve enjoyed the olfactory journey through Marrakech’s collection of spices, I decide to head to the northeast side of the old city and visit Maison de la Photographie. I have heard good things about the collection of work here, and being a photography lover, I’m looking forward to seeing Marrakech’s history through pictures. The museum occupies a 3-floor riad and houses a collection of photographs from all over Morocco, dating back to as early as 1870. These include original photographs of the Berber people, the Jewish settlers, the African, as well as the local Arabic people.

On the top floor of the museum is a cafe as well as panoramic views of the old city. I savor the view, and the silence, before rejoining the masses below. I’m hungry and it’s getting quite late in the day, so I decide to head back to where I’m staying for a tagine and some tea. This means walking back through the winding alleyways to Djemaa el-Fnaa, passing all the shopkeepers and snakecharmers, tour guides and spice sellers. I’ve covered some distance today, and I feel tired, But I know it’s not just from the walking and the traveling but from the energy I’ve exerted just being here. Marrakech is revealing itself to be a place of craziness with pockets of hidden beauty. My outlook going forward is to savor that beauty as and when I find it.

 

Djemaa el-Fna