Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The good, the bad and the ugly: Turkey
One of the countries on our European leg that I was looking forward to the most was Turkey. I anticipated that Turkey was going to be different from the other countries that we had visited in Europe and I wondered if it would be closer to my Asian experiences. But this was not to be the case.
Turkey is the only country that spans two continents, Europe and Asia and thus, the city of Istanbul is half European, half Asian. Apparently it used to be a very corrupt country but then the government cracked down, bringing about huge changes. Now it is very modern, with an excellent infrastructure. (India could take some lessons here on the eve of the Commonwealth Games.) The roads and highways are in excellent condition and there is evidence of planning and wealth everywhere. It helps that Turkey is enjoying a surge in tourism which was very evident during our stay.
Turkey is a Muslim country and I found that the Turkish people rarely made eye contact nor smile. Part of me wonders if they are sick to death of tourists. I can't imagine what it is like to have a gazillion tourists three hundred and sixty five days a year. There is never a lull or down season. Brand new state of the art buses were everywhere. Cruise ships arrived daily. We even had to time our museum visits to avoid the crowds.
The first part of our stay was in the lovely Sebnem Hotel, a small hotel owned by a young man who is eeking out a living in a very hotel laden city. Every morning we were greeted with an unbelievable breakfast of homemade pastries, made fresh daily. He was extremely helpful and one of the rare ones with a smile for us.
We spent many days touring the incredible sights: the Blue Mosque, Santa Sophia, Dolmabahce Palace, the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market. My Mom was particularly moved by our visit to Santa Sophia. It is a former Christian church, dating 500 DC. Absolutely enormous in size with beautiful frescoed ceilings and mosaics. Unfortunately the frescoes were peeling and any symbol of Christianity that was removable was removed. Sadly, unlike our visit to the palace where people were yelled at for putting a finger on a wall, tourists in Santa Sophia are allowed to tramp through in great hoards without any care or thought for its protection.
One of the highlights of the week was a quick two day trip to Assos. John and I went by bus, over seven hours. The bus was state of the art, even with wireless internet and incredible free food service on board. I felt like I was on a plane. A young man in a crisp white shirt, complete with a bow-tie and black pants pushed his little trolley up and down the aisle every couple of hours. When we arrived in the closest town to Assos, we had to take a dolmus (a little mini-bus) the rest of the way and I made friends with an old man who was thrilled to explain his village heritage to a Canadian. Assos is a primitive stone village, which is also the site of ancient ruins. John and I trekked the hills and even hitch-hiked our way back to the village. Sadly, we wished that we had had one more day there.
Each country seems to bring out different feelings in me. One night an incident brought this to a head. John and I were walking up a hill to go out for dinner. We were walking about 1 ½ feet apart, when all of a sudden, a young man came running down the hill towards me. In the blink of an eye, with his hand flat, he whacked my upper chest, just below my throat. The stinging slap resounded in the night as he continued running down the hill. I was deeply shaken and to this day wonder why he did this. Was he trying to snatch my travel purse, which was over my head and shoulder? Was he making a statement about non-Islamic women, even though I was very conservatively dressed? Or was he simply deranged? I guess I'll never know.
The day before we left, in celebration of John's birthday, we decided to splurge and go for a Turkish bath. The Cagaloglu Hamam was constructed in 1741 and is still running today. After paying our forty Euros each (remember that I said splurge), John and I parted to go to our respective sections, men's and women's. It was an amazing hour long experience for me as I underwent a total exfoliating, massage and scrub, all while lying on huge marble platform with steam rising up to the beautiful mosaic domed ceiling. Other women lay around me in various stages of their bath, which is administered by women dressed in the old style full body, one piece bathing suits. Eucalyptus wafted through the air. As I lay there, condensation from the ceiling dripped on my face. After each step, my woman poured bowl fulls of warm water over my head. Finishing up in the sauna, I emerged from the Hamam, feeling very relaxed, much like a wet noodle.
One resonating sight that still remains with me is seeing women dressed in full burkhas: black from head to toe, with only a slit to see through. Not that every women was dressed like this, far from it. But there were enough to make it was a common sight. I often saw two or three women, with one husband, walking around or sitting in parks, totally covered. On our flight out of Istanbul, a woman in full burkha, further covered the slit for her eyes with yet another black cover when she went to the toilet. I have no idea how she ever saw how to get to the toilet at the back of the plane. And when we arrived in Doha, she and her family were all whisked away in a Mercedes taxi, directly from the plane. They did not board the crowded shuttle bus that took us into the airport terminal. I know that some women do chose to cover themselves up willingly but there are many others who have no choice. I often wonder how they see the world through a wall of black and what they are feeling underneath.
But what I missed most of all was being able to look into their eyes and connect, as women do all over the world.
Turkey is the only country that spans two continents, Europe and Asia and thus, the city of Istanbul is half European, half Asian. Apparently it used to be a very corrupt country but then the government cracked down, bringing about huge changes. Now it is very modern, with an excellent infrastructure. (India could take some lessons here on the eve of the Commonwealth Games.) The roads and highways are in excellent condition and there is evidence of planning and wealth everywhere. It helps that Turkey is enjoying a surge in tourism which was very evident during our stay.
Turkey is a Muslim country and I found that the Turkish people rarely made eye contact nor smile. Part of me wonders if they are sick to death of tourists. I can't imagine what it is like to have a gazillion tourists three hundred and sixty five days a year. There is never a lull or down season. Brand new state of the art buses were everywhere. Cruise ships arrived daily. We even had to time our museum visits to avoid the crowds.
The first part of our stay was in the lovely Sebnem Hotel, a small hotel owned by a young man who is eeking out a living in a very hotel laden city. Every morning we were greeted with an unbelievable breakfast of homemade pastries, made fresh daily. He was extremely helpful and one of the rare ones with a smile for us.
We spent many days touring the incredible sights: the Blue Mosque, Santa Sophia, Dolmabahce Palace, the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market. My Mom was particularly moved by our visit to Santa Sophia. It is a former Christian church, dating 500 DC. Absolutely enormous in size with beautiful frescoed ceilings and mosaics. Unfortunately the frescoes were peeling and any symbol of Christianity that was removable was removed. Sadly, unlike our visit to the palace where people were yelled at for putting a finger on a wall, tourists in Santa Sophia are allowed to tramp through in great hoards without any care or thought for its protection.
One of the highlights of the week was a quick two day trip to Assos. John and I went by bus, over seven hours. The bus was state of the art, even with wireless internet and incredible free food service on board. I felt like I was on a plane. A young man in a crisp white shirt, complete with a bow-tie and black pants pushed his little trolley up and down the aisle every couple of hours. When we arrived in the closest town to Assos, we had to take a dolmus (a little mini-bus) the rest of the way and I made friends with an old man who was thrilled to explain his village heritage to a Canadian. Assos is a primitive stone village, which is also the site of ancient ruins. John and I trekked the hills and even hitch-hiked our way back to the village. Sadly, we wished that we had had one more day there.
Each country seems to bring out different feelings in me. One night an incident brought this to a head. John and I were walking up a hill to go out for dinner. We were walking about 1 ½ feet apart, when all of a sudden, a young man came running down the hill towards me. In the blink of an eye, with his hand flat, he whacked my upper chest, just below my throat. The stinging slap resounded in the night as he continued running down the hill. I was deeply shaken and to this day wonder why he did this. Was he trying to snatch my travel purse, which was over my head and shoulder? Was he making a statement about non-Islamic women, even though I was very conservatively dressed? Or was he simply deranged? I guess I'll never know.
The day before we left, in celebration of John's birthday, we decided to splurge and go for a Turkish bath. The Cagaloglu Hamam was constructed in 1741 and is still running today. After paying our forty Euros each (remember that I said splurge), John and I parted to go to our respective sections, men's and women's. It was an amazing hour long experience for me as I underwent a total exfoliating, massage and scrub, all while lying on huge marble platform with steam rising up to the beautiful mosaic domed ceiling. Other women lay around me in various stages of their bath, which is administered by women dressed in the old style full body, one piece bathing suits. Eucalyptus wafted through the air. As I lay there, condensation from the ceiling dripped on my face. After each step, my woman poured bowl fulls of warm water over my head. Finishing up in the sauna, I emerged from the Hamam, feeling very relaxed, much like a wet noodle.
One resonating sight that still remains with me is seeing women dressed in full burkhas: black from head to toe, with only a slit to see through. Not that every women was dressed like this, far from it. But there were enough to make it was a common sight. I often saw two or three women, with one husband, walking around or sitting in parks, totally covered. On our flight out of Istanbul, a woman in full burkha, further covered the slit for her eyes with yet another black cover when she went to the toilet. I have no idea how she ever saw how to get to the toilet at the back of the plane. And when we arrived in Doha, she and her family were all whisked away in a Mercedes taxi, directly from the plane. They did not board the crowded shuttle bus that took us into the airport terminal. I know that some women do chose to cover themselves up willingly but there are many others who have no choice. I often wonder how they see the world through a wall of black and what they are feeling underneath.
But what I missed most of all was being able to look into their eyes and connect, as women do all over the world.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Greece
Wow, the weeks are flying by. Three weeks ago, I was in Greece and although it had a some rough patches, my fellow travelers and I all really enjoyed it. The week was a busy one with travel by air, ferry, car, taxi, and metro. Ah yes, the metro. I've decided that the most dangerous way to travel is not by air, nor by car but by metro. This is because on our way into Athens, after our flight from Rome, John was pick pocketed in the metro. And for anyone keeping track, I was pick pocketed last March in the Paris metro. Lesson here: beware of all metros. And believe me, these guys are professionals. They pick the most congested areas, for example where there are a lot of people getting on and off to change trains. They pick the battle weary travelers, the ones with fatigue written all over their faces. The ones with the suitcases and backpacks that they are concentrating so hard on not forgetting. And voila, you have the perfect situation. You stand behind the a fore said traveler, and as he bends down to pick up his luggage to get off, you slip your hand into his pocket and lighten his load. Never pausing to think how incredibly awful it makes the traveler feel, how vulnerable, how stricken. However, as I know from experience, one eventually after a couple of days gets past it and lucky for John, he has a wife with him who has her credit cards.
After waiting one day in Athens for my mother and Moisha to arrive from Toronto, we flew to San Torini Island. This was definitely the highlight of Greece for me. San Torini is now an island in the shape of a half-moon. Way back before 1650 BC, it used to be a round island until the volcano in the middle of it erupted and blew the island into pieces. My guide book tells me that it was one of the largest explosions in the history of the planet, setting off a spew of ash 35 kilometres in the air.
Our villa, Kokkinnos Villas, was perched on the inner rim of the volcano on one end of the island and had a spectacular view of the caldera. Cruise ships came and went daily to bring tourists to the town of Fira. We had a lovely balcony and a rugged beach about 100 steps down. We have not been anywhere yet on this trip that we did not have to climb up or down to go somewhere. But I love it. We immediately opened a bottle of wine and had a picnic of local bread and cheese.
My favorite day on the island was our trip to Oia, pronounced Eya. Located at the extreme other end of the island, it is constantly bathed in sunlight and has the best sunsets. The architecture is stunning. White washed cement houses with blue domed roofs line the cliff. Many have been turned into little hotels and have small jacuzzi size pools looking out over the ocean. We wandered for hours through tiny lane ways and up and down hundreds of steps. The sun beat down on us relentlessly. I bought some delicious fresh figs that were in season.
The next day we took the ferry to Crete and then drove to Chania (pronouned Hania). A lovely city with a very Venetian port. We stayed in one of the nicest hotels on our trip, a boutique hotel that was lovingly finished and had antiques in every nook and cranny. A bottle of wine and bread and cheese in the garden refreshed us all after an afternoon of walking. There is a beach very close by and John and I ran down for a swim. It is the only sandy beach that we encountered on this trip. On of the highlights of this city was dinner in Tamam restaurant. A former Turkish bath, the restaurant is bathed in amber walls; tables were around the top periphery and in the sunken area. The place was packed as it is a favorite even with the locals. We were served by a very nice bohemian looking young man and enjoyed a delicious Greek meal with wine. Free ouzo was offered at the end, of which we partook of course!
Greece was amazing, quite different from the rest of Europe. Our days flew by and soon we were on our way to Turkey. But that is another story.
After waiting one day in Athens for my mother and Moisha to arrive from Toronto, we flew to San Torini Island. This was definitely the highlight of Greece for me. San Torini is now an island in the shape of a half-moon. Way back before 1650 BC, it used to be a round island until the volcano in the middle of it erupted and blew the island into pieces. My guide book tells me that it was one of the largest explosions in the history of the planet, setting off a spew of ash 35 kilometres in the air.
Our villa, Kokkinnos Villas, was perched on the inner rim of the volcano on one end of the island and had a spectacular view of the caldera. Cruise ships came and went daily to bring tourists to the town of Fira. We had a lovely balcony and a rugged beach about 100 steps down. We have not been anywhere yet on this trip that we did not have to climb up or down to go somewhere. But I love it. We immediately opened a bottle of wine and had a picnic of local bread and cheese.
My favorite day on the island was our trip to Oia, pronounced Eya. Located at the extreme other end of the island, it is constantly bathed in sunlight and has the best sunsets. The architecture is stunning. White washed cement houses with blue domed roofs line the cliff. Many have been turned into little hotels and have small jacuzzi size pools looking out over the ocean. We wandered for hours through tiny lane ways and up and down hundreds of steps. The sun beat down on us relentlessly. I bought some delicious fresh figs that were in season.
The next day we took the ferry to Crete and then drove to Chania (pronouned Hania). A lovely city with a very Venetian port. We stayed in one of the nicest hotels on our trip, a boutique hotel that was lovingly finished and had antiques in every nook and cranny. A bottle of wine and bread and cheese in the garden refreshed us all after an afternoon of walking. There is a beach very close by and John and I ran down for a swim. It is the only sandy beach that we encountered on this trip. On of the highlights of this city was dinner in Tamam restaurant. A former Turkish bath, the restaurant is bathed in amber walls; tables were around the top periphery and in the sunken area. The place was packed as it is a favorite even with the locals. We were served by a very nice bohemian looking young man and enjoyed a delicious Greek meal with wine. Free ouzo was offered at the end, of which we partook of course!
Greece was amazing, quite different from the rest of Europe. Our days flew by and soon we were on our way to Turkey. But that is another story.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Italy
A few months ago, I was reading an article in a travel magazines on Cinque Terre, in Northern Italy. I was immediately enticed to go there and so after France, John and I found ourselves on a train from Nice to La Spezia. It was a complicated train trip with three transfers but finally we arrived in the late afternoon. After a bit of a struggle with a broken suitcase (the handle and the wheels were not longer working on John's bag), we checked into the old but nicely renovated Hotel Fierneze. Then we headed out to find our car rental.
Of course, Italy being Italy, the office was closed in the late afternoon (meaning past siesta time) even though opening hours posted on the door stated that they would be open. We ducked into a rustic wine bar with a surly waiter who waved us to one of the rare pay phones in Europe. I took a guess and called one of the three numbers that had been posted on the door, the one written by hand. A guy answered and explained that I had said I was coming in at noon. “Well”, I answered, “plans change and the train arrived later than I had anticipated.” In due time, he came, and soon we were outfitted with a Fiat Panda, not a car that I would recommend.
The next day we took the local train to the last village of Cinque Terre, Monterosso al Mare, which means mountain by the sea, with the emphasis on mountain. The old adage, you must go up to come down, is multiplied ten-fold. After a quick look around the village, we struck out, excited to do a nine kilometre hike from one village to the next, thus seeing all five villages. Cinque Terre is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Purchasing a park ticket, we hit the trail. This first section was extremely challenging, very steep, at times very narrow, up and over hills, through vineyards and olive groves. Being from the over-cautious North America, we were amazed to see how little warning there was about the degree of difficulty of this hike. And also the lack of guard rails or anything to stop a fall into the sea below. We passed people in flip flops, high heels, even one guy in his bare feet. The heat was extreme and going up, everyone was breathing hard. We heard a multitude of languages. As we passed each other going in opposite directions on the path, I sometimes got the sense by their expressions that they knew what was in store for us. The trail went on and on. Up and over, down again. Hundreds of steps. Back up again.
But it was all worth it. From the great heights, the vistas were stunning. An hour and a half later, we arrived in Vernazza, the second village. Hungry from our exertion, we bought two beers ( Heineken) and three different kinds of foccacia and proceeded to sit on a sea wall by the beach. Our lunch was followed by a lovely swim in the crystal-clear harbour waters. All around us, colourful village houses clung to the rocks, rising in a multi-layered fashion, one above the other up the cliff.
But we could not linger. Finding the trail, we struck out again on yet another challenging section, to arrive over an hour later in Corniglia, the only village of the five that is not situated down by the sea but rests high on the mountain. We paused for a fresh granati made from local lemons and passed a store playing Dr. John music, reminding us both of how little music we'd heard lately.
Off to Manarola, a moderate hike compared to what we had just done, with surprisingly flat terrain and nice wide trails. Just outside of this village, we stopped at a local swimming hole for another very refreshing swim. The Italians sure love their sun and again, there were only bikinis, not to mention a few topless women. John and I sat for a bit to rest and then headed into the fishing village for an expresso. Each of these towns is a major tourist destination but there are still signs of the working man. White aprons and fishing clothes flutter on the many balconies, interspersed with houses offering 'kamare'- rooms- for rent. Cars are not allowed in any of the five villages, making them a walkers paradise.
The walk to the last village, Riomaggiore was tame by comparison, a stroll with wide, flat, cement walkways. Dinner at la Grotta restaurant was delicious, with lots of local Italian specialties. Tired but happy, we jumped on the train and headed back to our hotel. Cinque Terre was definitely the highlight of Italy for both of us.
The remainder of our time in Italy was spent in the Almafi coast, south of Napoli. The drive there was long and a bit stressful, but rewarding. We stayed in a former olive mill, Villa Il Frantorio, now a Bed and Breakfast, in Praiano. A stunning view but lots of climbing. Two hundred steps down to the village and another two hundred further down to the beach. That meant four hundred steps back up after a swim.
Daily we took the local buses to the towns of Positano and to Almafi, but found them way too touristy. The fun was more in riding the buses with their crazy drivers who are experts at careening around the hair pin turns with a steep drop off into the sea beside us. The highlight of this part of the trip, however, was the food. Each night, we returned to La Strada, to see Lorenzo, the best waiter in Europe. At his suggestions we sampled some of the amazing local dishes and wines. I loved the Caprese salad, ripe tomatoes with buffalo cheese, the 'courgettes'- stuffed zucchini flowers and also the fresh marinated anchovies. And the wine was excellent and moderately priced.
The days flew by and soon we found ourselves back on the highway, headed for the airport in Rome. We were excited to venture into a new country for us, Greece. But that is another story.
Of course, Italy being Italy, the office was closed in the late afternoon (meaning past siesta time) even though opening hours posted on the door stated that they would be open. We ducked into a rustic wine bar with a surly waiter who waved us to one of the rare pay phones in Europe. I took a guess and called one of the three numbers that had been posted on the door, the one written by hand. A guy answered and explained that I had said I was coming in at noon. “Well”, I answered, “plans change and the train arrived later than I had anticipated.” In due time, he came, and soon we were outfitted with a Fiat Panda, not a car that I would recommend.
The next day we took the local train to the last village of Cinque Terre, Monterosso al Mare, which means mountain by the sea, with the emphasis on mountain. The old adage, you must go up to come down, is multiplied ten-fold. After a quick look around the village, we struck out, excited to do a nine kilometre hike from one village to the next, thus seeing all five villages. Cinque Terre is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Purchasing a park ticket, we hit the trail. This first section was extremely challenging, very steep, at times very narrow, up and over hills, through vineyards and olive groves. Being from the over-cautious North America, we were amazed to see how little warning there was about the degree of difficulty of this hike. And also the lack of guard rails or anything to stop a fall into the sea below. We passed people in flip flops, high heels, even one guy in his bare feet. The heat was extreme and going up, everyone was breathing hard. We heard a multitude of languages. As we passed each other going in opposite directions on the path, I sometimes got the sense by their expressions that they knew what was in store for us. The trail went on and on. Up and over, down again. Hundreds of steps. Back up again.
But it was all worth it. From the great heights, the vistas were stunning. An hour and a half later, we arrived in Vernazza, the second village. Hungry from our exertion, we bought two beers ( Heineken) and three different kinds of foccacia and proceeded to sit on a sea wall by the beach. Our lunch was followed by a lovely swim in the crystal-clear harbour waters. All around us, colourful village houses clung to the rocks, rising in a multi-layered fashion, one above the other up the cliff.
But we could not linger. Finding the trail, we struck out again on yet another challenging section, to arrive over an hour later in Corniglia, the only village of the five that is not situated down by the sea but rests high on the mountain. We paused for a fresh granati made from local lemons and passed a store playing Dr. John music, reminding us both of how little music we'd heard lately.
Off to Manarola, a moderate hike compared to what we had just done, with surprisingly flat terrain and nice wide trails. Just outside of this village, we stopped at a local swimming hole for another very refreshing swim. The Italians sure love their sun and again, there were only bikinis, not to mention a few topless women. John and I sat for a bit to rest and then headed into the fishing village for an expresso. Each of these towns is a major tourist destination but there are still signs of the working man. White aprons and fishing clothes flutter on the many balconies, interspersed with houses offering 'kamare'- rooms- for rent. Cars are not allowed in any of the five villages, making them a walkers paradise.
The walk to the last village, Riomaggiore was tame by comparison, a stroll with wide, flat, cement walkways. Dinner at la Grotta restaurant was delicious, with lots of local Italian specialties. Tired but happy, we jumped on the train and headed back to our hotel. Cinque Terre was definitely the highlight of Italy for both of us.
The remainder of our time in Italy was spent in the Almafi coast, south of Napoli. The drive there was long and a bit stressful, but rewarding. We stayed in a former olive mill, Villa Il Frantorio, now a Bed and Breakfast, in Praiano. A stunning view but lots of climbing. Two hundred steps down to the village and another two hundred further down to the beach. That meant four hundred steps back up after a swim.
Daily we took the local buses to the towns of Positano and to Almafi, but found them way too touristy. The fun was more in riding the buses with their crazy drivers who are experts at careening around the hair pin turns with a steep drop off into the sea beside us. The highlight of this part of the trip, however, was the food. Each night, we returned to La Strada, to see Lorenzo, the best waiter in Europe. At his suggestions we sampled some of the amazing local dishes and wines. I loved the Caprese salad, ripe tomatoes with buffalo cheese, the 'courgettes'- stuffed zucchini flowers and also the fresh marinated anchovies. And the wine was excellent and moderately priced.
The days flew by and soon we found ourselves back on the highway, headed for the airport in Rome. We were excited to venture into a new country for us, Greece. But that is another story.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Why We Travel
One of the great things about traveling is that it gives me down time. I am no longer rushing around trying to cross off a million things on my daily list. I don't even make a list. And believe me, for someone who constantly feels that she has to be productive, this is a welcoming change for me. And with my new found freedom, I have time to think. Lately I've been thinking about why I travel. And why do others travel?
Years ago, in my grandparents generation, traveling was unheard of. To travel somewhere was really something. People rarely left their village or town and rarely their province or country. How things have changed. Now we have the time, the money and the luxury of travel. We are more informed than ever before, thanks to the Internet. We can sit in our living rooms and plan an exotic trip. The European section of this trip was all planned, to the day, on the Internet.
Today people travel for many reasons: for leisure, for work, to get away, to search their roots. Perhaps their ancestors came from Ireland, Poland, or Portugal. There are people who travel to find themselves. Then there are people who travel to get lost. My son, Aaron, tells me that his favorite thing to do is deliberately get lost in a city and then find his way home. Coming from a small city myself where I am well known as an educator, I must admit that I like the anonymity of travel. I can jump out of the fish bowl.
There are people who travel to experience the life that they cannot afford on a consistent basis at home. They stay in five star hotels and eat at the best restaurants. They are in search of the creature comforts that at home they can only dream about having. There are also people who travel to taste new food and wine. Time and money are a huge factor. Recent generations have more time and money to travel then in the past. Then there are people who want everything exactly the same as when they have at home. Same food, same amenities, same level of comfort. They are willing to try new things but only to a point.
There are people who travel to get out of their comfort zone. This is me. I like experiencing a more minimalist lifestyle. I love walking out the door with only my pack on my back, my life reduced to just a few outfits, a sleeping bag, a mosquito net and my malaria drugs. Of course, this has a lot to do with the fact that I have a lovely home and lack for nothing at home. If I struggled for survival at home, I'm sure that my travel would be quite different. In 2004, I loved living in the village in India with no running water and no electricity. Others cringed when I told them where I would be laying my head. I admit that I like to live on the edge. Eat less. Challenge myself to do without. Suffer some hardship. And get the horizon off my nose. I believe that it makes me a more flexible and understanding person. When I travel, I want to experience things that I don't get to experience daily. Otherwise, why travel? But that is me. I am restless spirit who wants to live life as much as possible, in all it's forms. And there is so much to see and do, and only one lifetime to do it all in. On that note, I'm off to explore.
Years ago, in my grandparents generation, traveling was unheard of. To travel somewhere was really something. People rarely left their village or town and rarely their province or country. How things have changed. Now we have the time, the money and the luxury of travel. We are more informed than ever before, thanks to the Internet. We can sit in our living rooms and plan an exotic trip. The European section of this trip was all planned, to the day, on the Internet.
Today people travel for many reasons: for leisure, for work, to get away, to search their roots. Perhaps their ancestors came from Ireland, Poland, or Portugal. There are people who travel to find themselves. Then there are people who travel to get lost. My son, Aaron, tells me that his favorite thing to do is deliberately get lost in a city and then find his way home. Coming from a small city myself where I am well known as an educator, I must admit that I like the anonymity of travel. I can jump out of the fish bowl.
There are people who travel to experience the life that they cannot afford on a consistent basis at home. They stay in five star hotels and eat at the best restaurants. They are in search of the creature comforts that at home they can only dream about having. There are also people who travel to taste new food and wine. Time and money are a huge factor. Recent generations have more time and money to travel then in the past. Then there are people who want everything exactly the same as when they have at home. Same food, same amenities, same level of comfort. They are willing to try new things but only to a point.
There are people who travel to get out of their comfort zone. This is me. I like experiencing a more minimalist lifestyle. I love walking out the door with only my pack on my back, my life reduced to just a few outfits, a sleeping bag, a mosquito net and my malaria drugs. Of course, this has a lot to do with the fact that I have a lovely home and lack for nothing at home. If I struggled for survival at home, I'm sure that my travel would be quite different. In 2004, I loved living in the village in India with no running water and no electricity. Others cringed when I told them where I would be laying my head. I admit that I like to live on the edge. Eat less. Challenge myself to do without. Suffer some hardship. And get the horizon off my nose. I believe that it makes me a more flexible and understanding person. When I travel, I want to experience things that I don't get to experience daily. Otherwise, why travel? But that is me. I am restless spirit who wants to live life as much as possible, in all it's forms. And there is so much to see and do, and only one lifetime to do it all in. On that note, I'm off to explore.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
My Travel Itinerary
My Itinerary Dates
A number of people have asked for my itinerary and dates.
They are as follows:
August 23-29th -France
August 30-September 4- Italy
September 4-12th Greece
September 13th -20th Istanbul
September20th -30th- Nepal
October 1-8th-Bangladesh
October 8-30th- Southern India/ Goa
November 1- December 5th- Northern India/ based out of Amritsar
Tentative Dates so far in 2011
March 6-19 Argentina
March 20-April 2 Peru
April 3-11? Bahamas
A number of people have asked for my itinerary and dates.
They are as follows:
August 23-29th -France
August 30-September 4- Italy
September 4-12th Greece
September 13th -20th Istanbul
September20th -30th- Nepal
October 1-8th-Bangladesh
October 8-30th- Southern India/ Goa
November 1- December 5th- Northern India/ based out of Amritsar
Tentative Dates so far in 2011
March 6-19 Argentina
March 20-April 2 Peru
April 3-11? Bahamas
Friday, September 3, 2010
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