tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28639523778241107192024-03-04T20:46:21.302-08:00women rockin' the roadSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-73503019958378609822012-03-12T15:44:00.003-07:002012-03-12T15:44:40.840-07:00the perfect dayI'm talking about the kind of day that from beginning to end, you just feel sated. Things go right. Food tastes good. The company is great and there is something done or seen that is extra extra ordinary. But above all, you don't realize how extra special the whole day is until it's all over and done with and looking back, you wouldn't change a thing! That's the kind of day this was! <br />
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The place: The town of Ancud in Chiloe Chile<br />
The day: February 10th, 2011<br />
The extra extra ordinary thing? Penguins!<br />
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It started, as all extra extra ordinary days start....sweet!<br />
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We found a small European tourist friendly cafe that sold a special local nut and potato cake...these particular types of nut and potato being very rare and difficult to find anywhere else on the mainland of Chile, much less the world!<br />
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Then, we caught a small public bus that took us along the coast and dropped us in the middle of nowhere...or rather somewhere!<br />
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PENGUIN LAND!!!!!<br />
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We walked the mysterious 2 kilometres up and down hills over looking the ocean on one side and rolling cow pastures on the other, all the time with me skipping/running/tripping along the dusty small road in anticipation to see one of the cutest animals on the planet! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view to the right!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizheiKsU8ovcJ8rMWZZJ9KGyDU9PhZn4BPMlcTq78rixC630Q-z2pwSFVXU6Po4SMYjtIsBbcyakEZg5BQcoSyLfSU1QsTwH4Og5r6Kwv_D-_sIGzJUN2FvClDJnUxbmaTQMIlvLWWuoo/s1600/110210_0581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizheiKsU8ovcJ8rMWZZJ9KGyDU9PhZn4BPMlcTq78rixC630Q-z2pwSFVXU6Po4SMYjtIsBbcyakEZg5BQcoSyLfSU1QsTwH4Og5r6Kwv_D-_sIGzJUN2FvClDJnUxbmaTQMIlvLWWuoo/s320/110210_0581.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view to the left!</td></tr>
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<br />After signing in at a small eco tourist office, we meandered onto a small 12 person boat with a bunch of other tourists, which whizzed us along to the small rocky islands filled with penguin love!<br />
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After all of the penguin awesomeness...we got a bit hungry, so we went ahead and bought a $4 king crab from a fisherman on the beach! Even in Santiago, this treat usually costs around $50 or more!<br />
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We decided to hitch hike home and lucky for us, right as we began leaving the isolated penguin beach, a very nice couple stopped to pick us up and drove us back to the town of Ancud.<br />
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We walked the small towns streets hand in hand, stopping for some pints of Kuntsmann beer and a heaping basket of more special local spud french fries. We then spent the evening sitting around a bon fire with fellow campers up on the side of a cliff drinking spiced warm red wine and talking about the day, listening/singing old songs, laughing at jokes and staring up into the sky at stars that seemed bigger and brighter than usual.<br />
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Like I said, a day like this can't be planned, it just happens!<br />
I'll never forget it!<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-81181413276830262602012-03-09T08:31:00.003-08:002012-03-09T14:33:27.944-08:00remembering AfricaRecently, I began reading the Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver based on a recommendation from a coworker...I haven't been able to finish it from frutration and a bit of anger. Just today I heard this piece done on a Hearing Voices episode called <a href="http://transom.org/?page_id=5151">"Home from Africa" </a>based on the culture shock and experiences of a young women working in the peace corps. I have to admit, it's hard for me to hear these stories in the way they are told, but I'm glad to hear them all the same.<br />
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Although very different experiences than what I experienced in Africa...these run ins with stories of places/problems/crazy culture shock moments bring back shadows of memories...I don't know if I wanted to forget, but I find it slightly difficult to remember.<br />
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Throughout all of the traveling my husband and I did over the past couple of years, one thing we agreed on returning home was respecting the memories we had of our time in places with dignity. We were careful in what pictures we took of people not to intrude on someone's personal space or disrespect them or hurt their feelings inapropriately in photos...this photo is one of just a few that we took of people at all.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A market in Zambia</td></tr>
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I didn't do much writing during our time in Africa, mainly due to losing our power cord for our laptop shortly after leaving South Africa (the first leg of our journey) and even though the days were filled with long bus rides and lots of waiting, the feeling of wanting to jot down what was running through my mind at the time just wasn't there....thoughts were there, just so numerous and so fast, it was like watching them fly by as I stared out the window at a world that seemed like a dream.<br />
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Being in Africa is a beautiful, spiritual, life changing experience and some of the people and places and foods we were privileged to meet, explore and try there changed our lives. I think about random things from Africa often at odd moments, but in slightly embarrassing ways for myself that I tend not to share out loud.<br />
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When I give away clothes, I wonder if they will find there way to Africa....it wasn't unusual to see a Packers or Vikings t-shirt worn by someone on a street corner or being sold at a market.<br />
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When I look into my pantry at all the different options of flour I seem to be collecting, I remember the aisle upon aisle of the different brands and sizes of finely ground corn meal sold for pap/nsima/nshima/ugali....and nothing else....and feel a bit gluttonous with my stash of powders.<br />
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When I buy a tomato or an avacado at the grocery store and remember the texture, smell and flavor of a freshly purchased tomato from a local African market...ripe, delicious...real!<br />
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These moments trigger a certain feeling I can't quite describe, a longing for the beauty we felt and saw in our travels through South Eastern Africa and at the same time an embarrassing gratitude that I'm home again in a place where things make sense to me....where I blend in....where I feel normal and full and warm and clean with running tap water and an automatic ice maker....and that at the same time....that feels horrible. It feels unjust to judge another culture as "not as good as mine" simply because their priorities are not my own, that I don't understand it and try to make sense of it...it's not mine to make sense of....but then again...most people in Africa will never get to experience my life in the States, whereas I have the luxury of a U.S. passport.<br />
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I'll never know what it feels like to be African. I'll never know how it feels to grow up in a small village surrounded by family and neighbors and love....this is something we also weren't welcomed into as tourists...as an outsider, you remain outside! It's rare to hear stories from this perspective and I wish there were more available....culture shock can be so blinding.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-88945405043609026522012-02-11T14:39:00.000-08:002012-02-11T14:39:48.437-08:00Gay Pah-Ree<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My first
trip abroad was to France. I have mentioned it before, and I think I have also mentioned <a href="http://womentravelersunite.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-first-time.html">how inadequate of a packer I was back then</a> (I<a href="http://womentravelersunite.blogspot.com/2011/09/take-it-or-leave-it.html"> have learned</a> a few things since then). I was also totally green to the ways of the world, but
in some ways, this is what gave me the gumption to take this trip in the first
place. If I would have stopped and thought about what I was getting myself
into, I may have faltered. But I muscled right through in my naïve, adventure-seeking
way.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The reason I
went was for a summer work abroad program that I had signed up for through my
college. I had gone to countless interviews and to orientations where they told
us things like: <i>don’t put your hands on your laps at the dinner table because
the French would assume you were playing with yourself</i>. I had to do language
proficiency and writing proficiency tests. I had to write letters to my future
employer and roommate, introducing myself and thanking them for the
opportunity. I still have copies of the letters. They are pretty funny. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
First I flew
from San Francisco to Paris. I arrived at Charles de Gaule jet lagged,
disoriented and confused. The aforementioned luggage was a hindrance. I tried
to get francs out of the ATM while guarding my bags and trying to remember my
French phrases. Next, I had to get from the airport to the train station, which
seems easy enough, but first you have to take a shuttle to terminal 3, and walk
to the Metro where you go through the turnstile and then take a shuttle back to
terminal 1, where you catch the bus to the train station. Have you ever been to
Charles De Gaule? If not, and you have never traveled before, I would not
suggest it be the FIRST international airport that you tackle. It’s kind of
big. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.paris-in-photos.com/paris-gare-du-nord-train-station/gare-du-nord-paris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.paris-in-photos.com/paris-gare-du-nord-train-station/gare-du-nord-paris.jpg" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.paris-in-photos.com/paris-gare-du-nord-train-station/paris-gare-du-nord.html">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I finally
found the train station, bought my ticket and sat and watched the board with
the schedules and times go “tick, tick, tick” and flip all the times and track
numbers and destinations over. I remember thinking over and over, “what have I
gotten myself into?” Here I was in a country where I knew nobody, where I did
not really know the language and where I was like a beacon, a small American
girl with 4 huge suitcases, just waiting to be robbed. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bonjourlafrance.com/france-trains/tgv-bordeaux-south-west/images/tgv-map-paris-bordeaux-toulouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.bonjourlafrance.com/france-trains/tgv-bordeaux-south-west/images/tgv-map-paris-bordeaux-toulouse.jpg" width="309" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bonjourlafrance.com/france-trains/tgv-bordeaux-south-west/paris-toulouse-via-bordeaux.htm">source</a></td></tr>
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I wasn’t
robbed. I got on the train and went two hours south to Bordeaux, my new home.
Luckily (and I can’t quite remember how, as these were the days of little
internet) the girl whose flat I was renting for the summer met me at the
station, got me on a bus and took me to her house. Her name, in typical French
fashion, was Marie Pierre. Not plain Marie, but Marie Pierre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And of course, it was not Mehr-ie, but
Mah-REEE! Pierre. She had a boyfriend with her named Khalid. Luckily, although not well, they did know
a tiny bit of English. Not that I expected them to, but if you have ever taken a
long flight, you know how foggy one’s head can be afterward. If you had <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>then ran around Paris like a chicken looking
for the Gare du Nord, and then arrived somewhere new and met new people and you
are feeling a little overwhelmed, you would know how nice it was to not have to
remember all of your French phrases right at that moment. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipYck5dCzsgrJRpjxTK1jekKRr0gcHAHyWgYqGV0XFtq-8vhbS3l6cLZKXdPii642C7ZU-v7jiI7ICdAItQJvp63KAVs64VkV4XaNkEZT5OutaKPBilkR568Ite2WxIjIiNiF8U_hqIBfy/s1600/French+Phrases.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipYck5dCzsgrJRpjxTK1jekKRr0gcHAHyWgYqGV0XFtq-8vhbS3l6cLZKXdPii642C7ZU-v7jiI7ICdAItQJvp63KAVs64VkV4XaNkEZT5OutaKPBilkR568Ite2WxIjIiNiF8U_hqIBfy/s400/French+Phrases.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, we made
small talk, which was great, because that was the French I knew the best: How
many brothers do you have? Where are you from? Where do you work? Thanks French
101! It was exciting, being in a new place, starting a new, although temporary
life, being out on my own, an independent, French-speaking American, ready for
an adventure. We got to the apartment and I got right down to business starting
my adventure. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I went
straight to bed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thank goodness for MP and Khalid. Without
them, I don’t know how I would have managed that first day. Stay tuned for
tales of the adventures at my new job!</i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Do you remember your first trip abroad? Have
you ever traveled by yourself? Do you like it/hate it/don’t care either way? </b></div>
</div>Kyria @ Travel Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05889638304509763419noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-46752023165414166862011-11-29T10:39:00.001-08:002011-11-29T18:13:44.238-08:00Jakarta nightmaresOur very first stop (for an extended period) in Asia happened to be Indonesia, of which we knew nothing about prior to arrival. I'll admit, we did everything wrong from the very beginning.<br />
<br />
We flew in to Jakarta around midnight from Singapore. As soon as the plane landed I knew it was going to be a crazy country....the moment all the wheels of the plane were on the ground, people started standing up to get their bags and push themselves to the front of the plane. The pilots had to make continual announcements to get people to sit down again...all I could think was...where are we going?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHE2CkpfFYz4KefCF8MymSt0-hxhwFdOXA1jT8gfwCTSvkT737coY3_Ic92gkxwFM9wvr2ciTN2hhiq-TEbtuslmDMvzDo144XxxcQjHeCdg8O3hPncod90M9z9oP7dIJqav78el-MAo/s1600/100126_0201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHE2CkpfFYz4KefCF8MymSt0-hxhwFdOXA1jT8gfwCTSvkT737coY3_Ic92gkxwFM9wvr2ciTN2hhiq-TEbtuslmDMvzDo144XxxcQjHeCdg8O3hPncod90M9z9oP7dIJqav78el-MAo/s320/100126_0201.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of Jakarta from its National History Museum (taken the next day)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So there we were in Jakarta...with no hotel reservation, no plan for transportation....at midnight. <br />
The lonely planet said that the cheapest way was to take the bus....so on belief that the lonely planet could do no wrong (did I mention it was our first stop?) I paraded my way thru hoards of desperate taxi drivers to the bus stop, where we were pushed on to a bus by very loud, short men....and then waited for 2 hours....from there, after 2 more stops at other airports and more waiting, we were dropped off at the train station at 2am, covered in sweat, in a rain storm, terrified and hungry, with mosquitos swarming us in darkness. We had no idea which direction to go and were terrified of looking it up in the sacred book of answers and having someone 'know' we didn't know what we were doing....looking back...our idiocy was pretty obvious! Could we have had a better experience? Most definitely...will I go back to try it all over again? Absolutely not!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqi-5Rt0MIyOAA1c56lT-Jt8r6AUvqPSjuuxxLPiVGT8otRHM2JI5BJaHk0cNCs3H5-UAZK7yBSo2DLyCml7oez2lu89C0F9I-a4woZpeOouVfpnnXxIpv1-HwkoO9uBtuM3Z3W9sC5I/s1600/100126_0203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqi-5Rt0MIyOAA1c56lT-Jt8r6AUvqPSjuuxxLPiVGT8otRHM2JI5BJaHk0cNCs3H5-UAZK7yBSo2DLyCml7oez2lu89C0F9I-a4woZpeOouVfpnnXxIpv1-HwkoO9uBtuM3Z3W9sC5I/s320/100126_0203.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our second meal in Jakarta - found in the basement of a mall downtown, <br />
(right next to a basement mall grocery store)<br />
Not bad food in retrospect, but as my first toasty whole fish, a bit terrifying</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We eventually meandered our way to the "L.P. recommended" mosquito infested hostel (there were smears of blood covering the walls from previous guests swatting the gigantic mosquito bodies against the white windowless cell like walls) and found some food down the street to the screeching melody of old, drunk, expat Australian men. The one major achievement that evening? The discovery of super large sized Indonesian Bintang beers for $1 each! After a few of those while waiting the required hour it takes to get food in Indonesia (pretty sure they had to go find and kill a chicken for every meal we ate there), the rest didn't seem quite so bad...the large, hairy Australian men seemed more like friendly accomplices and our hostel room was...cozy at 4 in the morning.<br />
<br />
The next day we discovered the side walk we had walked along in the dark the night before with our oversized paks and looks of terror had sporadic 2 foot gaping holes here and there that you had to leap over or risk breaking a leg. All of the decaying sidewalks in Jakarta have a deep and wide gutter system underneath them, which keeps the entire city from flooding and terrifies pedestrians...we were the only people walking the streets....it's almost impossible to cross the 5 car wide streets in some parts of the city. Most people take taxis!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2BGRDJ8LzJrvblx24LvnvAYuVQ2kZ3oEsqeLr7ka3NU2rGXxzIHt7CIaTOrwc6homE_fwPQg97o-DxCCq4qvVFuVB_XuguTm2DFYtQMa8yuUeoks0G90tB0Pg1KcPu2oEb8PzVy1oo8/s1600/100126_0202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2BGRDJ8LzJrvblx24LvnvAYuVQ2kZ3oEsqeLr7ka3NU2rGXxzIHt7CIaTOrwc6homE_fwPQg97o-DxCCq4qvVFuVB_XuguTm2DFYtQMa8yuUeoks0G90tB0Pg1KcPu2oEb8PzVy1oo8/s320/100126_0202.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'walking' downtown Jakarta<br />
This photo was taken on an overpass we fortunately found to walk over the 'normal' street</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Also, because we had no idea what we were doing, we had booked a flight out of Sumatra for 3 weeks later, so we decided to set up a plan with a travel office to get to Medan. When we told the women we wanted to find a ferry to Sumatra, she simply looked at us a bit stunned and said....that's not possible. A first of many surprising transportation realizations in Indonesia. So. We paid for two first class train tickets (which let's you have a little fan throw air towards you and has a little towel on your head rest) to Yogyakarta Indonesia...and would eventually fly out of Bali....<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yx6nxVwWJJfu_RQ5tVxKoqfNCiloL9VCqqR7CspZiWWItREOcx-ggfC8MMwEdoV0v_bDGsEBn8Yg15PjPOp4X5p8AnBIQVMwIy3rqm0L6uLZJ1J6ck71XkRNsfvuKcN6teoqVxt4uWY/s1600/100127_0211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yx6nxVwWJJfu_RQ5tVxKoqfNCiloL9VCqqR7CspZiWWItREOcx-ggfC8MMwEdoV0v_bDGsEBn8Yg15PjPOp4X5p8AnBIQVMwIy3rqm0L6uLZJ1J6ck71XkRNsfvuKcN6teoqVxt4uWY/s320/100127_0211.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">waiting for hours at the train station to leave Jakarta!<br />
We ended up having to pay a man who grabbed our bags at the very last moment and demanded money</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The real story of anger and complete despair lies in the next leg of our journey from Yogyakarta to Bali.....the part we really wish we'd known more about in our lack of research for the trip. I will save that lovely story for another next blog!<br />
<br />
All that being said....I will never return to Jakarta. Worst place we visited on our entire trip by far!<br />
Dirtier then the long dusty bus rides in Africa. Hotter then the sun filled blistering days of Thailand....<br />
Yup. Just as there are beautiful places I'm dying to return to....there are places I would rather not see again. Jakarta is one of them. It did teach a lot of important lessons on the do's and don'ts of first days flying into new places -<br />
<br />
DON'T arrive late at night! <br />
DON'T hand your bags over to ANYONE and not expect them to want money seconds later.<br />
DO book a room before arrival for your first night in a new city! <br />
DO make sure to plan how you're going to get there! <br />
DO enjoy and have fun trying out the local foods and beverages!<br />
Mistakes we didn't make again after that!<br />
<br />
But to end on a good note...the best coffee I've ever had? 1 block away from our jail cell hostel at a hole in the wall restaurant:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNbTAw-YB6TQZkTgPkH3OBfbeHRoe6WkbhfUhcBDS2EAMmIwgCYcw_ZPhdsdVDh1qpV_u_3FKHF2MQJxyE8jEIdnr3s-3HbnUGtfp8LZaXUufiz-JSJopJd6YC0qZlj2PMCLyixeNmwA/s1600/100126_0205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNbTAw-YB6TQZkTgPkH3OBfbeHRoe6WkbhfUhcBDS2EAMmIwgCYcw_ZPhdsdVDh1qpV_u_3FKHF2MQJxyE8jEIdnr3s-3HbnUGtfp8LZaXUufiz-JSJopJd6YC0qZlj2PMCLyixeNmwA/s320/100126_0205.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee Jakarta style - strong with the grounds still in with sweetened condensed milk on the bottom. <br />
NUM!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-92219796549079170862011-11-21T09:07:00.001-08:002011-11-21T10:51:13.196-08:00the itchNope...I'm not talking about sand flies in the Perhentian Islands of Malaysia<br />
(although those are quite a nuisance and not so fun)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitstrhdlgO0mlowngjXJ4BpfaS1-iTTjF6gUnR4uDvabVJbSU7G8rbrE7JJ-GjGci_rjl-7yuKLZUIzkU32GjGG721IU_KrZyGTe_h5JxKQTggjwyimATr_2a7gkms9K9h1cEWQN33o18/s1600/100302_0983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitstrhdlgO0mlowngjXJ4BpfaS1-iTTjF6gUnR4uDvabVJbSU7G8rbrE7JJ-GjGci_rjl-7yuKLZUIzkU32GjGG721IU_KrZyGTe_h5JxKQTggjwyimATr_2a7gkms9K9h1cEWQN33o18/s320/100302_0983.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sorry...gross photo....but I make my point.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm talking about that intense pressure in the back of your brain, that slight hint of something missing when you're sitting at work looking at travel blogs, that nervous tension on the bottoms of your feet that they should be moving!!!!<br />
<br />
When we first got back from traveling, (the first 2-3 months back) we immediately started planning and thinking about the next...unpacking, buying new pairs of socks and finally putting away our kitchen once again...it seemed like anything was still possible and if we didn't like it here, we could simply pack up and go.<br />
<br />
Now it's been almost 6 months since our return from snail living (all our belongings on our backs) and I'll admit, the idea of getting back to wandering the world is slowly fading into the distance and disappearing from view and survival/scheduling/priorities/education have hit home instead....the itch is still there, but the reality of daily life has definitely set in once again.<br />
<br />
I'm wondering if there are others out there with this odd dilemma and how they feel/deal about it. <br />
What do other travelers do to hold on to that hope and start saving once again for that next great crazy trip. I know the majority of people don't really get what I'm talking about.....especially with the photo I've just featured....why would you want to be homeless and wandering about in another country far from home....but for me, it's always a shadow in the background that makes me wonder more so...what am I doing here?<br />
<br />
That all being said, there is plenty to appreciate in non travel life. <br />
A bed!<br />
A bathroom of my own!<br />
A stove/condiment shelf and coffee pot!<br />
<br />
But that crazy adrenaline rush of wondering where we might be tomorrow....<br />
There's nothing like it!<br />
<br />
<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-42105722537896516802011-10-31T15:07:00.000-07:002011-10-31T15:08:45.298-07:00honkToday I just got honked at while biking.....one single honk. One.<br />
I was crossing legally on the bike path, on a green bike crossing light and I was in the middle of the street at the time of said honk.<br />
<br />
Looking behind me at the older gentleman driving his beat up truck with his fist in the air staring in my direction, I saw anger in his face and a little resentment...thinking something on the lines of....<br />
<br />
"Damn bikers, they think they can just bike however they'd like! They think they own the street as well as their beloved bike paths! Stay off my god damn streets you good for nothing sons of $%^$!" <br />
<br />
What does he do to express all of this deep feeling? A SINGLE HONK!<br />
<br />
Well this whole thing got me gruffed and riled up to shout a single profanity at....no one!<br />
RIGHT! Just me! Waiting to legally cross the other intersection, patiently/peacefully waiting my turn accept for one verbal outletting of...<br />
<br />
"What the F*** was THAT?!?"<br />
and.... I felt better!<br />
<br />
Thinking about this afterwards, I started laughing at the incredible midwestern passive aggressive weirdness that just occurred in comparison to so many other places....<br />
<br />
One honk. One F bomb....and that was enough to release the tension. In comparison to Jakarta or Bangkok, Santiago, Buenos Aires, New York City.....I can't imagine the same 1:1 ratio of honking to profanity....just one! It just doesn't happen! I almost miss the continual non useful honking now....what a continual release of inner stress! To be allowed to honk and not mean anything by at! Yes...it's flipping annoying to everyone else...but to be the honker ....not just letting it go once, but 50! WOW!<br />
and then! To be on the receiving end...where one can feel comfortable to rip open...arms flailing...words flying....screaming, ranting....letting it all go! Well, in comparison, my one little baby f bomb at no one 20 seconds after being honked at....pathetic!<br />
<br />
I mean...heck...he could have even been honking as a caution! "Hello biker...I have no breaks...I'm turning right behind you...my sincerest apologies!" Here in the midwest, this is just as likely.<br />
<br />
I'm befuddled by it all!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-34527395881373938822011-10-20T18:13:00.000-07:002011-10-20T18:13:38.792-07:00Freaky Foods<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Things that seem totally normal to us can be strange to other people, and other things that are normal to them are completely strange to us. Here are a few examples. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
India: fried tubes</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ5v75zdiFjpK1z6uVzB4QcVdzpv7AVBxcXqJwCRBUgtVcoKWmXmb5HuKZhV5IT-0sDHwr892qBnpCJIDxGxW92I-8yqwCJVnXYy9ZLDXlhu27S4mpvPDKoYefWn7ss_Ok4tP2CniM6vZL/s1600/India+-+Thar+Desert+Camel+Trek-235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ5v75zdiFjpK1z6uVzB4QcVdzpv7AVBxcXqJwCRBUgtVcoKWmXmb5HuKZhV5IT-0sDHwr892qBnpCJIDxGxW92I-8yqwCJVnXYy9ZLDXlhu27S4mpvPDKoYefWn7ss_Ok4tP2CniM6vZL/s320/India+-+Thar+Desert+Camel+Trek-235.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bali: snake fruit </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPstJSHATE23sbbtIjE_muP0Gys1BmtvEAlP-SgzLpdDetdU1mBumGtTrqS-OS8u0os9QxRhq3J-n_Ad8O1LA-t8-ES5kcBtxxfNB5fo6Mut0OlAyyFmAlyNsyJ0ugBgvaTTp9eXQ3OglG/s1600/Indonesia+-+Bali-27.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPstJSHATE23sbbtIjE_muP0Gys1BmtvEAlP-SgzLpdDetdU1mBumGtTrqS-OS8u0os9QxRhq3J-n_Ad8O1LA-t8-ES5kcBtxxfNB5fo6Mut0OlAyyFmAlyNsyJ0ugBgvaTTp9eXQ3OglG/s320/Indonesia+-+Bali-27.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Spain: anchovies (not just for pizza, and PS -- they are delish!)</div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Spain: leg of pig complete with hoof (jamon) and liver of duck (pate de pato)</div>
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Namibia: wieners, in a can</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Vietnam: several varieties of hedgehog</div>
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Vietnam: dragonfruit</div>
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South Korea: no idea what these weird shellfish are</div>
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<br />
For more strange foods, go see<a href="http://www.travelspot06.blogspot.com/"> my other blog</a> later this week! There were just too many for one post! <br />
<br />
<b>Have you ever eaten any of these? What's the strangest food you've ever eaten? Or seen? </b></div>Kyria @ Travel Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05889638304509763419noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-4319456153002539572011-10-04T14:18:00.000-07:002011-10-04T14:23:40.457-07:00Now I know!I know I was supposed to "find myself" or "figure myself out" while spending time traveling. <br />
Self awareness, self realization and all that...well...this is as far as I got:<br />
<ul><li>I'm not a beach person. I like about 30 minutes max, if that, per day and beyond that, no thank you! </li>
<li>I hate the 30 seconds spent between getting out of the water and into my sandals when my feet get covered in beach sand....bleuk!</li>
<li>I enjoy a diet rich in multiple varieties of carbs. Rice. Bread. Pasta. Cous Cous. Interspersed. Awesomeness! 2 months straight of only rice or only bread....I get a little wiggy.</li>
<li>If everything fails, the best thing I can do is sit down and shut up....do I do this? Nope.</li>
<li>Eggs. I really love them! Fried sunny side up particularly. I'll eat them any other way as well...accept raw......that was gross. </li>
<li>I would prefer to be too cold then too hot.</li>
<li>I looooove eating fried chicken off the bone...num num num num num.</li>
<li>I really don't have to pee (have access to a restroom) all the time! </li>
<li> I'll take Fanta over a Coke.</li>
<li>I'll take a beer over a bottle of water I have to pay for...especially if they're the same price!</li>
<li>I really suck at languages...but I try anyways!</li>
<li>I'm not a good driver...anywhere</li>
<li>I would rather walk 3 miles in the heat, starving, then get ripped off by a taxi driver</li>
<li>I can't stand when people try to push things on me....even if I want what they're pushing</li>
<li>I really love washing dishes.</li>
</ul>So. What does it all mean?!?Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-2460089510996571522011-10-03T19:35:00.000-07:002011-10-03T19:35:32.271-07:00Learning From Them<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_DyHbW5Bi_U-6NlwyKvlNrarTPu5607kkr23Bi6NTou8oNH4IV4qLISlJIHOtw_zEjoTF2WnD2jSoqN4BY77lrLRGeni6O7OicBIr3z-m1qX781ObK9J-QiQAenE9gdA0z0_7K8OABPz/s1600/2925513148_473b45b253_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_DyHbW5Bi_U-6NlwyKvlNrarTPu5607kkr23Bi6NTou8oNH4IV4qLISlJIHOtw_zEjoTF2WnD2jSoqN4BY77lrLRGeni6O7OicBIr3z-m1qX781ObK9J-QiQAenE9gdA0z0_7K8OABPz/s320/2925513148_473b45b253_b.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Columbia - Ciudad Perdida - Friendly guard</td></tr>
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I get asked by a lot of people, "Why do you travel?"</div>
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<br /></div>
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Traveling can be done for many different reasons. Each
person or situation warrants a different reason and results in a different
experience. You may want to relax; you may want to learn about History; you may
want to hike every mountain in the world; you may want to dive every coral
reef. Of course, I want to do it all. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Above all, I have always been curious about how other people
live. I travel to LEARN. Whether they are in the million dollar apartments in Paris or the slums
of Mumbai, I want to see it. More than that, I want to experience it. This is
not to say I necessarily want to sleep amongst the fleas in Mumbai, but I do
want to see it all and, if possible, I want to understand it a little. Don’t
get me wrong, I am not some bleeding heart liberal who wants to give food and
money to every poor person in the world. But I am interested in the logistics
of life in other countries. </div>
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<br /></div>
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What I have learned is this: </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">In some of the poorest
countries, they seem the happiest</b>. I have gone to festivals in Bolivia or
in Malawi where people are enjoying themselves fully. They are dancing and
singing and clapping. They don’t need an expensive band and fancy food. They
have each other and their mood creates the party. In a couple instances, I
joined them, and it was so delightful. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgti12JaNYj7MrKarBShZgjr1HbNLMrEWgvOjkNd1CRm7bl6mDpmduNN3jJgFPA-o9zIagZ_yuEAtkjTh5bCXG2rQ-GF2p3REFXohNX8nDT_z5c7Qxv9yJHUywxt70ykIbTNi4RliZxzo7n/s1600/Korea+-+Busan-85.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgti12JaNYj7MrKarBShZgjr1HbNLMrEWgvOjkNd1CRm7bl6mDpmduNN3jJgFPA-o9zIagZ_yuEAtkjTh5bCXG2rQ-GF2p3REFXohNX8nDT_z5c7Qxv9yJHUywxt70ykIbTNi4RliZxzo7n/s320/Korea+-+Busan-85.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Korean guy gave us booze!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">People are generous</b>.
I have had people at bus stops with nothing more than the clothes on their
backs offer me food. In Albania, where nobody spoke English, they gave us
mandarin oranges. In Egypt, where nobody spoke English, they gave us bread. Me,
with my backpack that costs more than a years salary. They gave ME food! This
taught me to be a little more generous, even if it was only crackers or bread
or fruit. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">People are helpful. </b>You
may go into your journey with the stereotype that Italians are loud or French people are snobby
or Germans are abrupt, but really, when you get down to it, people are very
helpful (and mostly very nice). When we were wandering around in circles with
our backpacks looking for our hotel in Paris, we didn’t have to even stop
anyone. They stopped and asked US if we needed directions. When I was looking
for my hostel in Rome in the middle of the night in an unsavory neighborhood,
people were helpful, even the unsavory looking ones. When <a href="http://womentravelersunite.blogspot.com/2011/07/alone-in-dark.html">I
arrived in Salvadore</a> in the wee hours of the morning, a homeless looking
guy walked me home. I am not saying to completely let down your guard, but we, and especially the “we” who live in bigger cities,
sometimes forget to help our fellow man. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRI8C9rEzXyvU4buJnz5rAbX9A9EOZoV9ITRdd4JXKlNWqpJfc_d6PU391X2mRchLIM5pnfFeKorbo3ntBeOUuJHhf56S9DIvzoH2q9SeuoEbX6ikzSQO6-XwyeOcVK23IWYjVU53zU62/s1600/China+-+Beijing+misc-3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRI8C9rEzXyvU4buJnz5rAbX9A9EOZoV9ITRdd4JXKlNWqpJfc_d6PU391X2mRchLIM5pnfFeKorbo3ntBeOUuJHhf56S9DIvzoH2q9SeuoEbX6ikzSQO6-XwyeOcVK23IWYjVU53zU62/s320/China+-+Beijing+misc-3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crowded subway in Beijing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">People get close to
you: </b>This is something we (in the US) don’t deal with very much, but people in many
other countries have absolutely NO personal space. They will stand right on top
of you with their sweaty armpit right near your face. It’s okay. Get used to
it. Next time, it will be your sweaty armpit in their face. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">People make do with
what they have:</b> We saw outdoor “churches” in Africa, because they didn’t
have a building big enough to house everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They sang hallelujah to the skies and it was beautiful. I am not a
religious person, but I wanted to join them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I learned a little about the logistics of life in other
countries. I still have a lot to learn. But the main point I have taken from
traveling so far is that people are good. Yes, there are wars and strife and
fighting. There is starvation and pain and hate. But the evildoers are the
minority. You cannot judge a country (ours included) by its leader or its
government. You need to meet the people. The people are the key. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the people are wonderful. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So go, plan that trip to _____ that you have always wanted
to take. Don't be afraid. Go to the market there and talk to the locals, even if you don’t speak
the same language. Taste their strange food and ride too close to them on a
strange vehicle. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Live their life for a minute. Do what they do. And learn from them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>What have you learned from traveling? What stereotypes do you think people have about your state or your country before going there? Do you think they find it to be true? </b></div>
</div>
Kyria @ Travel Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05889638304509763419noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-39930230090955161852011-09-29T10:27:00.000-07:002011-09-29T10:41:42.686-07:00lost local nosh<a href="http://sdevo.blogspot.com/2010/12/feliz-navidad.html">I'll never forget baking Christmas cookies last year for hours on end....multiple days....multiple types of cookies....</a>and being absolutely miserable about it...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_46-bfq4gJoMEdII0mvhcjPAprRQweuOzc9WhW8RHgXPm4ln9w876my_Djb0QLmy2jxWBiHMi6RMzLER1PwfV4Q7Pfp2SPApfvtrE9eCXQ8NEffJ41I5AFhL1g5iNLCjXQEGlFLeaRyo/s1600/IMG_2679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_46-bfq4gJoMEdII0mvhcjPAprRQweuOzc9WhW8RHgXPm4ln9w876my_Djb0QLmy2jxWBiHMi6RMzLER1PwfV4Q7Pfp2SPApfvtrE9eCXQ8NEffJ41I5AFhL1g5iNLCjXQEGlFLeaRyo/s320/IMG_2679.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
I was about to pass out from dehydration in a massive sweat.....in Santiago Chile.<br />
Chileans don't bake cookies and if you do find a cookie, think non chewy, bad quality bleuh!<br />
<br />
Baking cookies isn't exactly a known Holiday custom in Chile for a reason....it's summer!<br />
The last thing you are supposed to do is slave away in front of an oven....other reasons? Ovens don't have an actual temperature gauge on them and most of them have to be lit from the inside with your head stuck inside with a lit match while it's filling with gas. (To my own astonishment at my own idiocy, I did this a lot! There's no other way!)<br />
<br />
You know what Chileans love to eat for Christmas? FRUIT CAKE! The entire month of December!<br />
No kidding...massive quantities of the stuff...the joke product most Americans won't touch with a ten foot pole runs out of stock at grocery stores all over Chile come Christmas! (I still can't really stand it, but I tried)<br />
<br />
This is a mere example of the oddness which can occur trying to mix one cultures food with another. A lot of foods in so many places are popular for certain holidays, festivals, seasons, for one major reason....it's locally grown, it's cheap, it's EASY! These facts combined lead to a certain food becoming a tradition passed down by generations and next thing you know, some pour girl is slaving away over little rounds of dough on the 20th floor of a Santiago sky scraper!<br />
<br />
My favorite of all parts of travel is discovering new foods in new places and eating what the locals eat! Without these local traditions with special local ingredients...I would have no reason to want to travel!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHN-QUfQrenGsBySbpROhRv7vE0D3T8al4SLXjeyKSej6G_ZlrPDLR1eFQ86R1Iw8PxxLBqx55uULk4acM85chcBoFDIHYFB-wg7iuRKsVyZdqYNGnUqrwXSlf7iyQo2YaHGAlQrsn30/s1600/IMG_0183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVHN-QUfQrenGsBySbpROhRv7vE0D3T8al4SLXjeyKSej6G_ZlrPDLR1eFQ86R1Iw8PxxLBqx55uULk4acM85chcBoFDIHYFB-wg7iuRKsVyZdqYNGnUqrwXSlf7iyQo2YaHGAlQrsn30/s320/IMG_0183.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a toothpaste tube of caviar and chocolate milk in Norway, the only things we could afford in the grocery store!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Now being back in the States, I'm always looking for those new and exciting flavors I discovered else where as well...and when I do find them, I'm thrilled! But it comes at a price. I'm the odd one walking into asian grocery stores hunting down lemon grass, galanga leaves and receiving funny glares and stares. I remember days in the lunch room at my old work with looks of "you are really eating that?" as I slurp down my homemade muss'man curry with Thai eggplants and chunks of bamboo shoot. Things that are popular in one region of the world aren't so much in others for a reason....they aren't grown locally!<br />
<br />
All of the Spanierds we know here in the States dream about legs of jamon (ham) knowing it's almost impossible to find here. Chileans talk about lemon pie and pisco sours in a whisper, as both pisco and lemons are pricey here. I know I would have sold plasma for just a crumb of aged Wisconsin Extra Sharp ten year cheddar while traveling....something I can find now as free tasting samples twice a week at the farmers market!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAfKgVq-_c1BTr7cUQ3KWU4EfNH40DBCb5jQB3CQdvmLZaFz9Cu0N8_SG-x84tZobZxgrfksJrCeH9dU6Evh7q9PodVBkRNQXBTdZOYVbhZvZFAG5QhX0Lm8b3WCfWG1yCaELympxmhs/s1600/IMG_0773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAfKgVq-_c1BTr7cUQ3KWU4EfNH40DBCb5jQB3CQdvmLZaFz9Cu0N8_SG-x84tZobZxgrfksJrCeH9dU6Evh7q9PodVBkRNQXBTdZOYVbhZvZFAG5QhX0Lm8b3WCfWG1yCaELympxmhs/s320/IMG_0773.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">chewing on some fresh cane sugar plant on the border of Malawi and Zambia...given to me by a local who laughed at my inability to shuck/chew/spit my cane as I should have and had to help and show me how, to the great entertainment of onlookers</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
That's the drive that forced me to sweat thru batches of cookies in the middle of a hot day...longing for that certain taste and flavor that brings back such beautiful memories of places and people that have made me so happy! It's amazing how food can transport you from one time and place to another and what we'll do and pay to recreate that experience! <br />
<br />
Do you have a certain food you long for from some other part of the world?<br />
Do you have a favorite meal from your home town you tried to make somewhere else?<br />
How'd that go for ya?Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-55514962864726212422011-09-20T16:11:00.000-07:002011-09-20T16:23:31.415-07:0010 Beautiful Places (1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are so many beautiful places in the world. It is hard to say which ones are better than which other ones. So, this list is not necessarily The Most Beautiful places, only ten beautiful places in the world that I have been (excluding the US this time, because I could name 10 in this country alone!) I have more than this already, so there will definitely be a sequel. Also, I don't plan on quitting travel any time soon, so I am sure there will be even more someday! When you are done with this one, if you want another great list, you can also check out my <a href="http://travelspot06.blogspot.com/2010/10/noteable-notes-10-of-our-favorite.html">10 Great Experiences In The World to Try</a>. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Here they are, in no particular order. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk5xa5CxtAKZrUuyEhIs_N0PiIggPBnfQSrc1HmiR_v3OzZHBB54J9X1-l2Tejhxlh1g8-Vv91LbDEvVpdV37m8fMQQMKS9fpwGj5LjwJV6lfpgmM6UZDEYigwe6i1vGRxZ2uDNT3ZvZHj/s1600/Barerrinhas+Lencois+Marahenses+%252810%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk5xa5CxtAKZrUuyEhIs_N0PiIggPBnfQSrc1HmiR_v3OzZHBB54J9X1-l2Tejhxlh1g8-Vv91LbDEvVpdV37m8fMQQMKS9fpwGj5LjwJV6lfpgmM6UZDEYigwe6i1vGRxZ2uDNT3ZvZHj/s320/Barerrinhas+Lencois+Marahenses+%252810%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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1. <b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Len%C3%A7%C3%B3is_Maranhenses_National_Park">Lençóis Maranhenses</a>: </b>These
sand dunes in Brazil are constantly changing. In the wet months, their
low points fill with water and the combination of the rippling white
sand with the blue, blue water is just breathtaking. You can swim in the
pools between dunes. If you go at sunset, you will get great views (if
it isn't cloudy and rainy like it was when we were there). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkjh1z54Qt1eOhU02Sw0QdCuwreF5cMy-hLSY_Tu-ufjCRC61TAYAGQ90DCoHUA2iF3O7xu7VwlFwAlZVEfaFIQcN7zYbPjZX1ebNvV7vCiCG0rJssBt3h-yoyiY86OnF8XSWkcnHzlbQn/s1600/Gjirokaster+%2528155%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkjh1z54Qt1eOhU02Sw0QdCuwreF5cMy-hLSY_Tu-ufjCRC61TAYAGQ90DCoHUA2iF3O7xu7VwlFwAlZVEfaFIQcN7zYbPjZX1ebNvV7vCiCG0rJssBt3h-yoyiY86OnF8XSWkcnHzlbQn/s320/Gjirokaster+%2528155%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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2.<b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gjirokast%C3%ABr"> Gjirokastër</a></b>: Built in the 1300s, this city is all built from stone (even the shingles on the roofs). It was under Ottoman rule for hundreds of years and is one of Albania's biggest Greek communities today.It is like being in a vampire movie, but not in a bad way. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-dnVvaKoM9V0WnzBBbHFdqagn7l8Z_d7e25iFi-yBSorfvbI7IQCfZRqFeNcV1hbecXFiXQqH1rhMGJSYnc41mJBD2GMfjGOaXZgK9XNnG0JfFGshfZll4R9PEDzQjR6T76Oc06myb6I/s1600/Ledge+Bungy+Queenstown+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6-dnVvaKoM9V0WnzBBbHFdqagn7l8Z_d7e25iFi-yBSorfvbI7IQCfZRqFeNcV1hbecXFiXQqH1rhMGJSYnc41mJBD2GMfjGOaXZgK9XNnG0JfFGshfZll4R9PEDzQjR6T76Oc06myb6I/s320/Ledge+Bungy+Queenstown+%25282%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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3.<b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queenstown,_New_Zealand">Queenstown</a></b>: This New Zealand town probably appeals to me becuase it reminds me of where I grew up. Nonetheless, it is a beauty. I was there in the summer time, but in the winter, the above peaks are covered in snow and this town is a skiers mecca. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YaLj7RqnwD0/TnkU4VyaGRI/AAAAAAAABgU/X8RTzCfNg9U/s1600/Montenegro+-+Kotor+Bay+Cruise-32.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YaLj7RqnwD0/TnkU4VyaGRI/AAAAAAAABgU/X8RTzCfNg9U/s320/Montenegro+-+Kotor+Bay+Cruise-32.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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4.<b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kotor"> Kotor, Montenegro</a></b>: Everywhere that I went in Montenegro was beautiful (see also <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Durmitor">Durmitor)</a>. However, this idyllic bay setting was top notch. The city of Kotor itself is a walled city made from stone and fortified upon it's surrounding mountains. You should definitely go here instead of (or in addition to) going to Dubrovnik. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfj-zbLlvC52K463RJ4nTryRLTrFtZSWSra_k182k1NpdcUcCoOkaUaiAKLBqPEnR8z_YVNLL-oeTlwqqkh8AjDL5hPVWG-CeYHzsm8MkkdWi4PZSUgdIZ3Og7TXwoqgyuABU9b_msUSR/s1600/Nepal+-+Luza+to+Gokyo-289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfj-zbLlvC52K463RJ4nTryRLTrFtZSWSra_k182k1NpdcUcCoOkaUaiAKLBqPEnR8z_YVNLL-oeTlwqqkh8AjDL5hPVWG-CeYHzsm8MkkdWi4PZSUgdIZ3Og7TXwoqgyuABU9b_msUSR/s320/Nepal+-+Luza+to+Gokyo-289.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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5.<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Himalayas"><b>Himalayas</b></a>: Hiking in the Himalayas for 3 weeks was one of the highlights of my trip around the world. I will go back there someday, as there are many, MANY more mountains I want to conquer! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSf17R05s8J8Dzva7y5fIx7S0vvHCjN4hDLrj8z2xRQTz1F33dI1HRpU72IURLQUbv441d5qcAmalaexCNge5sDKD7FUb23E0CgBeaRpE_tDW0iHGClwGYFjRUYn5zyhLficg_PL0ahMmT/s1600/El+Chalten+and+hikes-147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSf17R05s8J8Dzva7y5fIx7S0vvHCjN4hDLrj8z2xRQTz1F33dI1HRpU72IURLQUbv441d5qcAmalaexCNge5sDKD7FUb23E0CgBeaRpE_tDW0iHGClwGYFjRUYn5zyhLficg_PL0ahMmT/s320/El+Chalten+and+hikes-147.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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6.<b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patagonia">Patagonia</a>, Argentina</b>: This photo is of Mt. Fitz Roy.The peaks were so steep and formidable and rocky; the lakes were so, so blue. The hiking was great. What more could you ask for!? <br />
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7.<b> Patagonia, Chili</b>: It looks like Yosemite, doesn't it? Well it's not; it's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torres_del_Paine">Torres del Paine</a>. We spent nine days hiking up and down and around these peaks and it was wonderful. Each new turn showed us something different, a lake, a glacier or a new mountain. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5P1uOcuCu_0suMIr2C2vGB2Pu9ztpbuBCfVXNfXMkzPeKEgbSePmBW1V3eFRHfhwRqKuw1H4iWw9nl9lHtcdXJDNqwgQq1Y7LZNGE1DIxpMGLu3URuElz4FQM-14p629yUPm32nhhfN3/s1600/Cartegena-10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5P1uOcuCu_0suMIr2C2vGB2Pu9ztpbuBCfVXNfXMkzPeKEgbSePmBW1V3eFRHfhwRqKuw1H4iWw9nl9lHtcdXJDNqwgQq1Y7LZNGE1DIxpMGLu3URuElz4FQM-14p629yUPm32nhhfN3/s320/Cartegena-10.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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8.<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cartagena,_Colombia"><b> Cartagena</b></a>: This city in Columbia was full of color and music and life. And fresh fruit juice. And a HUGE iguana. You could spend a couple days just wandering around it's neighborhoods. <br />
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9.<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whitehaven_Beach"><b>Whitehaven Beach</b></a>: Located in the Whitsunday Islands of Australia, this inlet, called the Hill inlet, like the Lençóis Maranhenses, changes each day when the wind moves the sands. This makes it have patterns of sand and water that are different each day. Also the beach nearby is a beauty, with white sand and clear warm water. Just watch out for Jellyfish!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Q-bSryExt9YUP7XNmDfIdFnIIoR2PXKLlSDdGv53fjUGmrgZAvwn64ApCCGEwyirN7CsjiCAFtgjDq-P4M_I3blB-p81sjyD-9WrdgWpROfn2rV-0W7fEw_QVzyxEUcEAngEFSC0kXCY/s1600/Venice-250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Q-bSryExt9YUP7XNmDfIdFnIIoR2PXKLlSDdGv53fjUGmrgZAvwn64ApCCGEwyirN7CsjiCAFtgjDq-P4M_I3blB-p81sjyD-9WrdgWpROfn2rV-0W7fEw_QVzyxEUcEAngEFSC0kXCY/s320/Venice-250.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
10. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venice,_Italy"><b>Venice</b></a>: Okay, I had to put one "classic" on here. Any city near or in this case ON the water is usually not bad, but Venice has the added bonus of having great architecture as well. I chose the photo above because everyone has already seen all the cliche gondola photos. This one caught my eye. How romantic, right? <br />
<br />
Going over this list makes me want to revisit ALL these places! Sigh. Am starting a piggy bank now. <br />
<br />
<b>What is the most beautiful place YOU have been to? Let us know in the comments! </b><br />
<br />
<i>Don't forget, we also want <u>your travel stories</u>. It can be a list of dos, don'ts or places; it can be something funny or scary or weird that happened to you; it can be a wishlist or a list of questions; it can be a horror story or a love story. If you have anything to say about travel and want to be a guest poster, let us know! <u>Email us at travelspot06 at gmail dot com</u>. </i>You can check out <a href="http://womentravelersunite.blogspot.com/p/how-do-you-rock.html">THIS</a> page for ideas. <b><br /></b></div>
Kyria @ Travel Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05889638304509763419noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-89490601814733930242011-09-16T07:41:00.000-07:002011-09-16T07:49:38.032-07:00where to next?Do you look up at the sky when you hear an airplane and wonder where it's heading/wish you were on it?<br />
<br />
I do!<br />
<br />
My husband has it down to airline companies, times and directions...<br />
"Delta....definitely Delta...on its way to Detroit" ....sigh....<br />
He likes to fly, despite the annoyances of carry on sized shampoos, security check points and waiting around forever...he loves the romanticism of being in one place one moment and somewhere that looks completely different within hours.....and now he's gotten me addicted as well!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NHJJymsawe4fUyRbV-pd5So4yQaT90xuq1SxFYJFHNNsZ7hTrXU2px9lsjPkOPMOjJ0FgwTweij2zknKti2S0R4GVvOuulG3DWXSio2ceXjyq-EDMiAbR3Uo5pW6ixFaPTznsH4YVvU/s1600/Picture0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0NHJJymsawe4fUyRbV-pd5So4yQaT90xuq1SxFYJFHNNsZ7hTrXU2px9lsjPkOPMOjJ0FgwTweij2zknKti2S0R4GVvOuulG3DWXSio2ceXjyq-EDMiAbR3Uo5pW6ixFaPTznsH4YVvU/s200/Picture0001.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flying Delta to Santiago...pure joy</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I love to hear about where my friends are traveling to, what they eat, what they see, how they liked it....<br />
and of course this makes me crave to hit the road again even more!<br />
<br />
(If you catch the travel bug, it doesn't matter where you've been...you want more!...there's never enough time to do it all, not even mentioning all the incredible places I'd like to return to!)<br />
<br />
<br />
One place in particular has been on my mind for months, due to beautiful photos of hillsides and spicy foods and crazy looking fruits, stories of adventures and simply the look people have in their eyes when they speak of how much they love this particular place...it makes me itch to buy a ticket right now!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCeHWfnAj4eFLBULmuweOdHgWm8rbi6NK_aBcLB7ugA5gwxMjvatghydDset_lceaOuLZRrgjGPwXaXXJ7b4OFCCzrFcHgu3TsewJGAOXqnjoxW26orsNuyiZgzTUM2tYrtOp0ix2zsk/s1600/IMG_3347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCeHWfnAj4eFLBULmuweOdHgWm8rbi6NK_aBcLB7ugA5gwxMjvatghydDset_lceaOuLZRrgjGPwXaXXJ7b4OFCCzrFcHgu3TsewJGAOXqnjoxW26orsNuyiZgzTUM2tYrtOp0ix2zsk/s320/IMG_3347.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Nam (River) Ou in Northern Laos</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Where to next? Vietnam!<br />
The North, the South and the in between. We managed to get to Indonesia Malaysia, Thailand and Laos n Southeast Asia, but we ran out of time to reach Vietnam and Cambodia...there's never enough time! My husband wants to go along of course, but for him, he's more excited to see Borneo, or perhaps parts of China, maybe even jump on the Trans Siberian in Russia ...let's just say he has a much longer list of required places to visit...he's a dreamer!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WkzwHJdABIA1wl-HiweIS6UGomfuAjEkfpKKVLhTXWxRH0BkzvrhIcz8I5q10DZhWBdgZI_Tz6Z8AP06d13Bu5KfNcjTM10sTGijh4WG-Mdk-EFnDb_Nq472Q-IQLdWE3tmEPttJPhE/s1600/IMG_2136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WkzwHJdABIA1wl-HiweIS6UGomfuAjEkfpKKVLhTXWxRH0BkzvrhIcz8I5q10DZhWBdgZI_Tz6Z8AP06d13Bu5KfNcjTM10sTGijh4WG-Mdk-EFnDb_Nq472Q-IQLdWE3tmEPttJPhE/s200/IMG_2136.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A juice stand in Thailand</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I love to ask people where they'd like to travel to next if they could, because I can almost feel their spirits getting lighter and happier as they dream of their next crazy endeavor and share it with me. Of course there are always the realities of jobs and leases, saving enough money and thinking responsibly to the future....but as my husband likes to say, "dreaming is free!"<br />
<br />
Where would you like to go next?!?Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-32981495028692460242011-09-15T10:21:00.000-07:002011-09-15T10:21:47.151-07:00Take It or Leave It<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga1Jht884q_QvFK8_nSpMdryMS5K_ii3nFYG9JCWj5Wpmle3Xw716rVhfuAzMwQehwuJcg7CR5EM6urp2toIPZIR0V5aFmUzFoJwtHbjcopkD3izCPaWuvZTBrL83ZiiJv0Eb1zp6KZX1D/s1600/Packed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga1Jht884q_QvFK8_nSpMdryMS5K_ii3nFYG9JCWj5Wpmle3Xw716rVhfuAzMwQehwuJcg7CR5EM6urp2toIPZIR0V5aFmUzFoJwtHbjcopkD3izCPaWuvZTBrL83ZiiJv0Eb1zp6KZX1D/s320/Packed.jpg" width="212" /></a>I have written a lot of posts about the things that I am
glad to have with me on a long trip (see <a href="http://travelspot06.blogspot.com/2010/05/10-things-i-am-happy-to-be-lugging.html">HERE</a> and <a href="http://travelspot06.blogspot.com/2010/04/10-things-to-take.html">HERE</a>) but <a href="http://womentravelersunite.blogspot.com/2011/09/first-stop.html">Sarah’s post </a>the
other day prompted me to think about what I took with me that I wish I had left
behind. Of course I already had a list started in my trusty <a href="http://www.paperchase.co.uk/">Paperchase</a>
Notebook (<a href="http://travelspot06.blogspot.com/2011/04/essential-travel-items.html">HERE</a>). Okay, so I am sorry, but I couldn’t help sneaking in one of
the “can’t do without” items. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In addition to Sarah’s back supporter and mini micro-fleece
moldy travel towel (and her 50 granola bars and 20 pair of underwear), here are
a few things that I could have done without: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Socks</b>:
It depends on where you are going but usually you can do with very few pairs of
socks. I brought three pairs – 2 pairs of ankle socks and one long pair for
combo warmth and utility. If you are going to a warm place ONLY, I would say,
bring one pair. Unless you are hiking, you don’t need very many and you can
ALWAYS rinse them out and hang them up. (Also, buying these abroad is cheap if
you absolutely need a new pair) However, I tend to bring a lot of underwear. If
I have clean underwear, I feel “clean”. Right? </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Unnecessary
Electronics</b>: 2 chargers, three USB cords, extra batteries… My electronics
bag is probably one of the things that contributes most to the weight of my
pack. However, unfortunately, until Apple, Sony and Amazon start getting along,
you may have to carry at least two cords. I made the mistake of ALSO bringing a
battery operated iPod charger, which was heavy since I also had extra batteries
for it. I did not use it at all. I thought maybe I would be in a place with no
power, but I rarely was. There are plugs in other countries! I would suggest investing
in both a universal charger and a universal adapter and only taking these. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>This brings me to a related subject and the other
thing that weighs down my pack the most, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Unnecessary
Toiletries</b>: I am not even really a very girly girl, so I didn’t have makeup
or weird lotions or powders, but I still had A LOT of toiletries! Shampoo,
Conditioner, Soap, Contact Lens Solution, Sunscreen, Fingernail Clippers,
Floss, Toothpaste, A Year’s Supply of Tampons, etc. Unfortunately, you do NEED
a lot of these things. And, some things, such as Tampons and Sunscreen,
depending on where you are going, are scarce. However, I suggest taking small
bottles and buying many things along the way (yes, they do have shampoo pretty
much EVERYWHERE in the World!) Especially of Shampoo and Conditioner – get a
combo and don’t wash your hair as often (gasp). Also, use things for more than
one purpose. Shampoo can also be body wash or laundry detergent. Sunscreen can
be your new body lotion. Tampons can be…no, just kidding. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzmTNohfiumiISojPcnRlbw6FLpEqLCkxHj6eXl5n5oUoJ6kVpM0jLFYGDPoDAL9OguNKAiY8Xv4q26y80imJWZc6U11RDy1BO2vI9p_H1ROdz9M-806DLhJt7ogdNJ4Y1ap7wAHK50jcj/s1600/Lonely+Planet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzmTNohfiumiISojPcnRlbw6FLpEqLCkxHj6eXl5n5oUoJ6kVpM0jLFYGDPoDAL9OguNKAiY8Xv4q26y80imJWZc6U11RDy1BO2vI9p_H1ROdz9M-806DLhJt7ogdNJ4Y1ap7wAHK50jcj/s320/Lonely+Planet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Books</b>:
This is a hard one for me, as I don’t want to run out of reading material. When
we started our trip, we had: (1) Lonely Planet Europe, (1) Lonely Planet
Southern Africa, (1) Lonely Planet Africa, (3) Novels – me, (3) Novels – Mr. L.
That is 9 books total, and that doesn't even count my journal, a couple of magazines and a mini notebook for my purse. The LP’s weigh about 45 lbs each*. If you don’t mind
wreaking book havoc, I would say cut out the section of the LP that you need
and only bring that. If you want to keep it, you will have to lug around quite
a heavy book! Now there are also LP’s for iPad, iPhone etc. This may be the way
to go, although I have not tried them to see how they look. They would be a lot
lighter! As for Novels, there are always book swaps at hostels<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. </i>Sometimes you have to pay a little fee
to swap, but a dollar or two is worth saving your back! I admit, I did read
some pretty <s>horrible</s> strange books while traveling, but there WERE
always books in English! I would say carry one or two. Or get a Kindle! *<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">small exaggeration. They may be about 5 lbs
though! </i></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Clothes</b>:
Clothes are HEAVY! Think carefully about what you will need, and pack
accordingly. For me, we were not going to any nice places, so I could mostly
pack hiking type stuff that could double as street wear. Get used to wearing
things a few times a week, layering or mixing and matching few items. You may
start out thinking fashion is important, but soon you will realize it all comes
down to how much each thing weighs! </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCR8FqApQRpaOwO_ARflX548caW9bnTCJlDfEHHt6ZOwXx7r_A7vFkOxfl1pnrmkD9hO81qtR4GvKuXYI2eKw-yzgbdQUYRe-8lUQa6wLMSpqPCmvKZpK5BxW5gd7icimPP5teN_3x0Mj/s1600/Moz+Malawi+border+crossing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCR8FqApQRpaOwO_ARflX548caW9bnTCJlDfEHHt6ZOwXx7r_A7vFkOxfl1pnrmkD9hO81qtR4GvKuXYI2eKw-yzgbdQUYRe-8lUQa6wLMSpqPCmvKZpK5BxW5gd7icimPP5teN_3x0Mj/s320/Moz+Malawi+border+crossing.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="212" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Food: </b>We,
and by we, mostly I mean my boyfriend, carried around a lot of food. Most of it
we ate. However, there were some things (canned Pate from France) that we
carried around for a long time before finally deciding to ditch. I guess it’s
the survival instinct. It is hard to find non-perishable things that you can
carry easily and eat quickly. They are mostly canned. And heavy. Just try to
plan to go shopping more often and carry less items if you can. This one is
difficult, as it is hard to have enough so if you have a 25 hour bus ride with
no stops you don’t starve, but to not have to carry around 400 lbs of canned
tuna. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Weighty
Items in General: </b>When picking out your backpack, tent, jacket or sleeping
bag, it may be worth it to spend a couple (hundred) extra dollars to get the
lightweight versions. I heard about a guy who hiked the Pacific Crest Trail
with only 7 lbs on his back. He hiked it twice in one year (normally one way
takes about 5 or 6 months). Now, I am not suggesting you do that, but if your
sleeping bag weighs one pound versus six, and your pack, tent and jacket are
the same, you will save 5, 10 or 20 lbs just by paying a couple hundred more
for your items. This is the same even if you are not camping. Check the weight
of your items! </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here are a few lists of things I DO like to have with me: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><a href="http://travelspot06.blogspot.com/2011/03/whole-pack-age.html">How to Pack
Light For a Long Trip</a></i><br />
<i><a href="http://travelspot06.blogspot.com/2010/04/10-things-to-take.html">Top
10 Essentials For Your Pack</a><br />
<a href="http://travelspot06.blogspot.com/2011/04/essential-travel-items.html">More
Essential Travel Items</a></i><br />
<i><a href="http://travelspot06.blogspot.com/2010/05/10-things-i-am-happy-to-be-lugging.html">10
Things You Will Be Glad You Lugged Around</a></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Are there things you have brought with you
on a trip and not used? What is one thing you would leave behind? What is one
thing you cannot live without when traveling? </span></b></div>
</div>
Kyria @ Travel Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05889638304509763419noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-85082441391866649542011-09-14T06:49:00.000-07:002011-09-14T06:51:30.939-07:00the first stop!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwD7rCeRihIVwGsDBrUFGwArS_WJ5YS417IEHvh9frIsS_eyIEo02GxDkQEGUwDq74Q_MhDR994TTgEzbv_ao8r1eKahQlQzK43kLN4aA4uA4v1w19IE76Ku3NcgT6x3Y88SqNpC9YnCw/s1600/IMG_0730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwD7rCeRihIVwGsDBrUFGwArS_WJ5YS417IEHvh9frIsS_eyIEo02GxDkQEGUwDq74Q_MhDR994TTgEzbv_ao8r1eKahQlQzK43kLN4aA4uA4v1w19IE76Ku3NcgT6x3Y88SqNpC9YnCw/s320/IMG_0730.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
This photo was taken right after leaving baggage claims at our very fist stop of our year traveling in January 2010. I was TERRIFIED as well as the most excited and pumped that I'd ever been in my entire life. There is nothing like this feeling! I was dead tired and about to fall over in a haze of exhaustion, but the adrenaline was unstoppable!<br />
<br />
Looking back at this moment, this exact photo sort of defines how inadequately prepared I was for what we were doing....I was CLUELESS!<br />
<br />
My hair - I ended up chopping it all off 2 weeks later after stubbing my toe on some coral because I couldn't see thru my bangs.<br />
<br />
The pak - You can barely see a gigantic padded strap around my waste..these huge "back supporters" and the mini micro fleece travel towels that smelled of mildew for most of the trip, were the two major items I wish I hadn't brought with, just due to how much misery they caused! Definite lessons learned.<br />
<br />
By the time we reached our Ryokan in Tokyo a few hours later, we quickly realized we had made a grave mistake in packing....our paks were killing us and we were now on the other side of the planet. <br />
<br />
Perhaps we didn't need 50 granola bars and 20 pairs of underwear and socks?!? (ok, that was just me) Luckily our paks got lighter with time and we had a pit stop in the States 5 months later where we reconstructed our exact needs and cut our pak weight by more then half, only traveling with a carry on bag for me and one large backpacker bag for my husband. It made a huge difference...and a safe place to store electronics and essentials on a plane/train/bus/boat.<br />
<br />
"It's dancey dance time" - I loved this shirt so much....but, I hadn't yet gotten the memo that although I was on holiday, the rest of the world wasn't....it got ditched somewhere in Indonesia sadly, I do miss it now.<br />
<br />
The blue fleece jacket - I'm from Minnesota. I love comfy-ness. I love warmth. I LOOOOVE fleece jackets. This also got replaced once returning home for a North Face close fitting wind proof coat that didn't make me look homeless. In a lot of places, it makes a difference to look good while also feeling comfortable. If you want strangers to speak to you and help you at midnight desperate for a good nights sleep....you don't want to be wearing pajamas already!<br />
<br />
I wish I could sit myself down in that airport and explain a few things to pre trip Sarah...and perhaps lead her to a trash can and dump out half of her unnecessary pak! I wish I could tell her to calm down, stop worrying and enjoy the ride....would she listen? Probably not! and thanks to that first experience late at night I learned quickly soon after what felt right and what didn't. <br />
<br />
There's always next time!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-33385985931267513162011-09-07T20:34:00.000-07:002011-09-07T20:34:11.429-07:00Beef, It's What's For Dinner<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I became a vegetarian the same year that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1992_World_Series">the Blue Jays won the
World Series</a>. The reason I know that is because I remember Bobby, who was
in my chemistry class, was a Blue Jays fan and Justin, who was a Braves fan,
put a dead Blue Jay in his locker. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t do it because I particularly felt sorry for
animals; I didn’t do it because I didn’t like meat. I did it because of Mr.
Gruner. Mr. Gruner was my high school chemistry teacher. He told us about red
meat and the cholesterol and other bad things that go along with it. We probably
had to work up some kind of equation from the periodical chart to figure it all out. After that, my
friend E and I decided to try and see if we could go without eating red meat for
a while, more as a challenge to ourselves than anything. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That challenge lasted 15 years. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In 2008, I went to South America, with stop number one being
Argentina. All my friends were so excited to try “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argentine_beef">some of the best steaks in
the world</a>” and the very famous Argentine “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asado">asado</a>” (BBQ). I, on the other
hand, was interested in museums and neighborhoods, of mountains and lakes, of
beaches and hiking and penguins. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They wanted BEEF. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.absolut-argentina.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/asado_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.absolut-argentina.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/asado_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.absolut-argentina.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/asado_.jpg">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, the very first day we arrived in Buenos Aires, we went
to dinner at a place called <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps/place?oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=las+cholas+buenos+aires&fb=1&gl=us&hq=las+cholas&hnear=0x95bcca3b4ef90cbd:0xa0b3812e88e88e87,Buenos+Aires,+Capital+Federal,+Argentina&cid=14888883175183270362">Las
Cholas</a>. If you ever go to BsAs, make sure you go here. It was delicious!
No, I didn’t try the Parilla (grill) but my friends did and they loved it. I
had a bottle of wine, a tasty rice dish and much, much more. Come to find out, Argentines
don’t just eat meat! Plus, my entire meal cost me $8, which on a traveler’s
budget was kind of on the high side, but for a meal anywhere else, it is a
steal of a deal! </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The entire time we were there, we went out for meat almost
every day, and I always found other things to eat. Did you know that there are
a lot of Italians in Argentina? So, pizza was on the menu a lot, although the
sauce they use was a little sweeter than I am used to. Did you know that there
are tons of Germans in BsAs? So there were pastries aplenty! Did you know that
the coffee in Argentina is better than the coffee in some of the countries in
Europe? Well it is! They have espresso! Not the Nescafe stuff that many of the
other South American countries call “café”! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, it wasn’t really very hard to be a vegetarian in a meat
eating country.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One month after I got back from South America I was on a
plane and they served me a breakfast of eggs, sausage and fruit. I ate the egg.
I ate the fruit. And for some reason I had a craving for a salty piece of pork.
So I ate it. And the challenge was over. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still don’t eat very much meat. However, I do wish that I
would have just tried on of the “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argentine_beef">best steaks in the world</a>”
when I had the chance. Oh well, I guess I will just have to go back some day. <br />
<br />
I will leave you with these random beef facts: <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">- Argentines are the 2<sup>nd</sup>
biggest consumers of beef (Australia is 1<sup>st</sup>)<br />
- Argentines eat 55 kg of beef a year per person – that is 121 lbs per year, or
a third of a pound A DAY. <br />
- Argentina is the 3<sup>rd</sup> largest exporter of beef – behind Brazil and
Australia<br />
- Generally, Argentine cattle were mostly grass-fed, but lately they have been using more
feed lots, so are producing both leaner and fattier beef (did you know feed lot
cattle are fed BEER to calm them down? Me neither)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>How about you? Have you ever had trouble with your diet while traveling? How did you adapt? </b><i><br /></i></div>
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Kyria @ Travel Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05889638304509763419noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-71515071328313470762011-09-06T13:29:00.000-07:002011-09-12T11:03:59.718-07:00biker foodNow that I'm living back in the States, my husband and I were inspired to see if we could live our lives solely based on bicycle transportation <strike>our car died while we were traveling </strike> <br />
<br />
This has a lot of pros and cons to it financially and environmentally...<br />
No worries about car insurance!<br />
No way to buy a desk and get it home.<br />
It saves money on gas!<br />
It makes trips to visit the folks 5 hours away a little more complicated....<br />
It's hard to say what's best!<br />
<br />
Biking as my main form of transportation really has been a smooth transition in comparison to carrying my entire life on my back for the past year....it all comes down to weight...particularly when it comes to buying food!<br />
<br />
As far as purchasing power and grocery shopping, not much has changed from our days of deciding whether or not to purchase food based on its weight and temperature and how far we had to carry it!<br />
*A major reason why my husband still won't let peanut butter or jelly enter our home is because it was the only thing I knew how to eat as an American that was light weight, cheap, easy and could be eaten at any time. PB&J, the classic American treat will stay American....mmmm...a PB&J sounds kind of good right now!<br />
<br />
This conundrum of space/weight/dietary and physical needs, has lead me to all kinds of critically odd purchasing decisions slightly different for a home then for a hostel...it's ok to buy bulk when you know you'll be around for a week, but with no space to carry it, it's kind of weird!<br />
<ul><li>Buying things like toilet paper....how do I get home 36 rolls on my bike? Hmph....4 pak it is...</li>
<li>For a while we switched from milk to half and half, because it's smaller!</li>
<li>Wine or beer? I'll admit I'm now a major fan of the Napa Valley!</li>
<li>20 fancy napkins for $2 or 500 not fancy napkins for $2....I guess it's time for a tea party!</li>
<li>We literally shop and look at the 7 different brands of something like rice and decide now based on size! </li>
</ul>I think this fact has actually helped us watch our waists! Sugary beverages and chips are immediately off the list due to the fact of their weight and size. Chips are light, but in a backpak, they are ridiculously huge and by the time I'd get them home, they would be mush! Coke comes in sizes of large and larger, which just doesn't work when I have almost enough space for a tub of yogurt and a little bag of almonds......I'm just sayin....as a way to burn off some excess...it seems to be helping just in what I can physically carry home!<br />
<br />
What's really funny about all of this is that our new refrigerator in our new permanent apartment is HUMONGOUS! I hear it whining along with dollars flying out the window with it's inability to stay cool for very long, all for the benefit of a small portion hard salami, a tomato, 3 bottles of beer and a stick of butter....it just doesn't seem right. This refrigerator was obviously meant for a resident who happened to own a hummer...not a Fuji 10 speed!<br />
<br />
That all being said, having a refrigerator in and of itself is an incredible thing in comparison to always moving around and never getting to finish a bottle or a can of something, because you have to go on to the next town. Traveling in Africa, we were able to cook in many of our hostels, so I began carrying with me an emergency cooking kit consisting of 1 bottle of vegetable oil, a small packet of salt, what I think was a whisky bottle of homemade chile sauce we bought on the street at an outdoor market and two plastic plates. I'll admit the most used cooking tool we had was my husbands swiss army knife!<br />
<br />
At least I don't have to bike with my kitchen on my back now, just grocery shop! The supplies I have at my disposal nowadays would weigh down a larger sized elephant!<br />
<br />
What's going to make this biking for food experience even more interesting?<br />
These past few days have had a chill in the air! I can't wait to find out how this works in a snow storm!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-82221459538211836942011-08-23T16:23:00.000-07:002011-08-23T16:23:53.284-07:00Around The World<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You may already know this, but last year, after working 60 hours plus per week for many, many months, I had finally saved up enough to do my favorite thing in the world (no pun intended) -- Travel!<br />
<br />
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This time the trip was going to be around the world. Now, I am a planner and I usually like planning, but have you ever tried to plan a multi-month trip? It's not so much that we had to plan the day to day things, like buses and accommodation, but we did have to plan a few things ahead of time.<br />
<br />
Here's the deal. We had the option of 6 stopovers. That means we could get out of the plane and stay out of the plane for over 24 hours SIX times. However, we got 16 "segments". A segment being any flight from point to point. For example, when flying from San Francisco to Madrid, we had a layover in Atlanta. So, SFO - ATL = 1 segment, ATL - MAD = 1 segment. 2 segments down, 14 to go.<br />
<br />
At first it seemed like a lot. I mean, with only 6 stops, 16 segments should be fine, right? <br />
<br />
But I haven't told you everything yet. This flight was being funded using airline miles. Have you ever tried to book an awards ticket? There are black out dates; you get the worst flight times (3 am flight anyone?); you have to fly from New Orleans to San Francisco via Boston. They don't always make it super convenient for you.<br />
<br />
So. We set out to plan. Not only where we wanted to go but how long we wanted to stay in each place. This is hard. This is already hard if it were only me planning it and it was a ticket I paid for so I could have any flight I wanted. Now, throw in a boyfriend who wants to go to Europe for 1 month, meaning 17 countries in 2 weeks and Portugal for two weeks. So, yeah, we had different opinions on EVERYTHING. How long we would stay in each continent was a discussion, let alone how long we would stay in each country!<br />
<br />
I am of the "rather stay in one place longer than try to cram in many places" school of though. He is (was actually, but that's another story!) of the opposite school. Anyway, we finally narrowed it down after many <strike>arguments</strike> discussions and many weeks of planning. We decided on the 6 countries AND which city we would fly into and out of. Then we did all the research online. Which flights we liked the best, what times we wanted. Sounds great, right?<br />
<br />
This was only the beginning. Next, we spent the ENTIRE day, and I do mean ENTIRE, on the phone trying to book the flights (You are not allowed to do it online. Poop). Delta had different ideas then we did however. We wanted to fly from Amsterdam to Cape Town. It's a direct flight. It would be perfect. What did Delta do? (WDDD?) They got us a flight from...Paris to Dubai to Nairobi to Maputo. Do you see any of the cities we picked in this list? No? Me neither. Now do you see where the segment thing got eaten up really fast? This counted as 3 segments! 3 x 6 = 18! This just would not do! <br />
<br />
So it went like this. We would ask the lady about flight X. She would, inevitably say it wasn't available but that if we took flight Y, we could start in a city miles from where we would be, get rerouted through 4 different cities and then end in a city miles from where we wanted to be. Would that work for us?<br />
<br />
And it did. I am making it out to be worse than it was, but we really did not get <strike>any</strike> very many of the flights that we wanted. However, it turned out fine.<br />
<br />
The funny thing is, like I said above, I am a planner. Usually I like everything planned in advance so I know what to expect. When I travel, I don't mind throwing the spreadsheets out the window and doing things differently. If I love a city, I will stay for a few days, even if I thought I would only be there for a day. If someone says to me, "you have to go here! It is great!", I will go there and it will be great!<br />
<br />
And picking these flights was the same. We threw the spreadsheets out the window. We let Delta do the picking. Because it doesn't really matter where you go, it only matters that you enjoy it, wherever it is. <br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>Have you ever planned a really long trip? Did you have to plan anything beforehand? Was it hard? How did you do it? </b></div>
Kyria @ Travel Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05889638304509763419noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-77329435240401894612011-08-22T07:12:00.000-07:002011-08-22T07:15:22.059-07:00running the roadExercising while backpacking....is different.<br />
<br />
When we were in Asia, it was always too hot to work out during the day. We could have forced ourselves in the mornings/evenings, but it just felt wrong. Walking thru a small town, you will almost always see a class being attended by all the local ladies doing dance aerobic type Tai Chi of some kind and rocking it!<br />
<br />
In Africa, we never quite had enough energy/there were animals that could eat us/it wasn't super safe to venture out running around by myself....I definitely didn't see many people working out, although a lot of travel is done slowly by foot/hitch hiking.<br />
<br />
In Europe I spent all my time wanting to walk around the beautiful streets and goggle at anything...who needs running, when you can move at a snails pace with your head in the architecture?!?<br />
<br />
In South America, I did my best to hit the pavement in the morning before the heat set in, but I was generally the only gal on the sidewalks out of breath....and it can be difficult getting across streets safely without getting hit by cars/bikes/trucks/mopeds/taxis/buses. It's really annoying. A lot of Latina ladies attend Yoga/Pilates classes, rather then be assaulted by smog, cat calls, oggling and the intense glare of the sun.<br />
<br />
This all being said, now that I've been back in the States for a few months, I feel almost unpatriotic not lacing up for a jog. The concept of running for me personally has sort of lost its sparkle, which is a shame when I see so many around me doing it on gorgeous running paths along lakes parks with perfect weather for such activities! My husband and I both noticed on first returning to the east coast how much running and the idea of an after/before work exercise session is so popular in the States. To quote him "now this is something America does right!"<br />
<br />
Perhaps just writing this will be the final push I need to get moving on my feet again! I mean, if my goal is to thoroughly enjoy my culture to the max, when in <strike>Rome </strike>Wisconsin! Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-31293694115667416292011-08-11T12:52:00.000-07:002011-08-12T09:45:22.624-07:00I feel prettyI'll never forget the first time I went to buy sun screen in Thailand. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>There's a 7-11 on every corner and is the major way for giving directions in any Thai city, "Turn left at the 7-11 and you're there!" It's the place you go to buy $1 beer to drink on the sidewalk and usually the only place you can find sunscreen...that is....if you want your skin lighter. I made a lot of mistakes on our journey around the world, one of my biggest? Not carrying more over 50+ SPF sunscreen with me before leaving the States... in Asia, women find beauty in being lighter skinned, so anything that isn't a very low SPF/meant for tanning/meant for tourists, is only available with added whitener!</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'll admit, this had an effect on me. I started to view my own beauty differently. I started asking myself questions about what I think makes me beautiful...I thought all of the women around me in Asia had such gorgeous perfect figures and beautiful faces....and now I wonder if we were all just looking at each other with an odd curiosity, wondering what it would be like to look like the other.</div><div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0gpXWobSDeU0R1ZEp60PHHyjJsEUBWBfzHIL_WxkB6mwblC2yO38s8FwgmlRno2hPW8S4fclB4ILxU2cXTywuZQxfxdk8MLG_TacBF6c8jB3vVx0j61RYpCPAGpnbV6tvzHXa1Y1J2o/s1600/DSCN0251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx0gpXWobSDeU0R1ZEp60PHHyjJsEUBWBfzHIL_WxkB6mwblC2yO38s8FwgmlRno2hPW8S4fclB4ILxU2cXTywuZQxfxdk8MLG_TacBF6c8jB3vVx0j61RYpCPAGpnbV6tvzHXa1Y1J2o/s320/DSCN0251.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prambanan Temple in Yogyakarta Indonesia<br />
All the local field trip groups wanted a picture with the "white girl"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
</div><div>Stepping out of one culture and into another gave me that temporary moment to really look at myself and all my weird cultural stereotypes and decide what I really want to look like....of course this changes all the time, but always looking slightly wacky with a travel pak on my back, dorky shoes on and wearing wacky foreign clothes in the middle of deserts, forests, cities, definitely doesn't make me look flattering anywhere! I got used to looking odd, which gave me a weird kind of confidence in my oddness knowing that I had to just accept how I looked, no matter how hard I tried, I was not going to fit in. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFVhsfWbf1LQegHHn17h4SRueLAfWmGv5sh9vj0o4gTJoZrH4HkXWTGfbatKn6q29yCpp_Q1l2bjDCvmDPTwuh1t7D9hA10sXXEwMCIO0lo_5fczispav7KPmRoaz_DphGN61AZJcvnA/s1600/IMG_1498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFVhsfWbf1LQegHHn17h4SRueLAfWmGv5sh9vj0o4gTJoZrH4HkXWTGfbatKn6q29yCpp_Q1l2bjDCvmDPTwuh1t7D9hA10sXXEwMCIO0lo_5fczispav7KPmRoaz_DphGN61AZJcvnA/s320/IMG_1498.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>Right before I got married, before we traveled, I went to a tanning bed for months mid winter and accepted a whitening treatment for my teeth from my dentist....looking back post travel, I don't know if I would have made those same decisions. Being tan with white teeth doesn't necessarily make me feel more beautiful any longer and definitely not healthier. I feel like I bought in to the bridal beauty myths and requirements, that what I was wasn't beautiful enough. If you did this in a lot of other places, you'd be laughed at...or at least snickered at and talked about behind your back. </div><div><br />
</div><div>All these beauty thoughts came about because of something my aunt said to me a few weeks ago. She was telling me how as she ages, she looks back on pictures of her younger self and sees how beautiful she was, but then she remembers how she felt about her looks at the time....flawed, imperfect, ugly, clothes not right, etc..etc.., so she's now decided to do her present self the courtesy of enjoying exactly how she looks today and acknowledge her beauty in the present....which I think takes a lot of guts no matter what age you are!</div><div><br />
Just now writing this blog, I walked into a public bathroom and stuck to the mirror while washing my hands...a sticker that reads "You are beautiful".....amen sister!<br />
<br />
</div><div>Wouldn't it be amazing if women all over the world loved how they looked without being lighter/darker/thicker/thinner/plumper/taller/shorter/brighter/less wrinkly/longer fingers/where does it end? </div><div><br />
</div><div>It's like that theory on straight verses curly hair....us ladies always want what we don't have....</div><div><br />
</div><div>I just wonder what it might be like if women all over the world would see the true beauty within them however they look and love the heck out of it...</div><div>What if!</div><div></div><div>Just for the record, the one country where I felt like women really knew they were workin' it? Botswana!</div><div>Oh yeah! They worked it and they knew it. They were luscious and large and they took great pride in being such with no apologies. Men treated women with respect and awe of their beauty and I remember thinking...damn...I wish I had a bootie too...(in many parts of Africa, having largeness is a sign of wealth, that you can afford good food) <br />
<br />
I'm just sayin.....Dumela ma! (That's hello to a woman in Botswana, said with great respect, warmth and a huge smile) Incredible, strong and proud women who love how they look whatever that look is! Wow!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjjtKNj-hHkJys5nXRgCLqJ3oOjZ-sUbTtMdCE_KKKSLBGVggIFhcjLmj_z_19LbJaeztOWlEBGOCEi8SfhZxdfAf0_51N2PGElxO528reLJdAwRD7FJ6tFpUW2X7aCETdUH3Mcm87OI/s1600/IMG_0895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjjtKNj-hHkJys5nXRgCLqJ3oOjZ-sUbTtMdCE_KKKSLBGVggIFhcjLmj_z_19LbJaeztOWlEBGOCEi8SfhZxdfAf0_51N2PGElxO528reLJdAwRD7FJ6tFpUW2X7aCETdUH3Mcm87OI/s320/IMG_0895.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right after this photo was taken, this women's friends began laughing hysterically<br />
that we had taken her photo and she was going to be famous!<br />
(Taken not in Botswana - where we were too shy for photos - but Tanzania)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Have you been to a country where women knew they had it goin' on?<br />
Have you been to a country where they look at you as if you were a movie star? How did you feel?</div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-27606412371277695242011-08-04T17:00:00.000-07:002011-08-04T17:00:34.248-07:00My First Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Do you remember your first time? I do. I was so nervous! I had no idea what I was doing; I wasn't prepared. I brought too much stuff. I was way too early.<br />
<br />
What? NO!!! What did you think I was talking about? I am talking about my first time abroad! Sheesh. <br />
<br />
The destination: Bordeaux, France.<br />
<br />
The reason: I had taken a semester of French in college and had then (rashly) signed up for a summer abroad work program.<br />
<br />
My French was not good. I was young and crazy. I would never do this now, since I really wasn't ready. But I am so glad I did. <br />
<br />
I was not packed when my parents came to take me to the airport. And when I say "not packed", I mean...my entire room was in a shambles. I was moving out of my house I had lived in for a few years; I had quit my job, had a huge going away party at my house and two days later, I was moving out of my house. I didn't have ANY idea what to bring on a trip, especially when I would be gone for three months. I didn't know what the apartment I would be staying in would have in it. I didn't know what I would be able to buy in...ooooh....France (like it was Mars or something!) I had no idea what I was getting myself into.<br />
<br />
We finally got everything together and my suitcases consisted of: 1 suitcase that I got from my dad and was probably from the 1950s. It looked like this:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pursepage.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/small-suitcase-bag-topshop-70.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.pursepage.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/small-suitcase-bag-topshop-70.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pursepage.com/other-designer-handbags/small-suitcase-bag.html">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Notice it DOES NOT have a sweet handle to pull it with. I does have a leather strap, but one that was not as long as the one in this picture. Think: one of those straps that goes on a clutch handbag. It was more like that. A wrist strap. So, to use the wheels, you had to crouch way over and pull it. (by the way, note to self, never google "crouched over" when you are looking for a visual aid for this post)<br />
<br />
And 2: A regular, and by regular I mean old, suitcase which was also large and had to be carried by a handle. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.clipartguide.com/_named_clipart_images/0511-1010-1423-4936_Black_and_White_Cartoon_of_a_Girl_Carrying_a_Heavy_Suitcase_clipart_image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.clipartguide.com/_named_clipart_images/0511-1010-1423-4936_Black_and_White_Cartoon_of_a_Girl_Carrying_a_Heavy_Suitcase_clipart_image.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.clipartguide.com/_pages/0511-1010-1423-4936.html">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, I get on the plane in San Francisco and I arrive in Paris. If you have ever been to Charles de Gaulle airport, you will know that it is a bit confusing. There are multiple terminals and the train station has to be taken from a certain one and I was tired and I didn't have any francs yet, and I didn't speak French very well and I couldn't read the maps and I was shy! There were turn-styles that you had to go through to get onto the train and I had my two huge suitcases (and I think I may have also had a backpack) full of clothes and shoes and alarm clocks (what, you can BUY those in foreign countries?) and presents for my future new friends (I was told this was "good manners" but that's another story.) <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sitl.ru/pix/sitl2006/terminal-cdg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.sitl.ru/pix/sitl2006/terminal-cdg.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sitl.ru/english/parisfly">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I got stuck. My suitcase with the wrist strap got stuck in the turn-style and it was still attached to my wrist and I tried to heave the other one over the gate but it was too <strike>full of crap I didn't need</strike> heavy. And people were looking at me like, "what is YOUR problem?" and they were talking to me very quickly ("Vous-avez besoin d'aide? Madmoiselle? blah, blah, blah") and I couldn't understand what they were saying and I couldn't get my suitcase out of the doors and I couldn't get my wrist out of the strap and I wanted to sit down and cry. <br />
<br />
I finally got my wrist free, got my suitcase free, got francs, figured out where the Gare du Nord train station was and how to get to it and got on the train. The TGV, which is the speedy train in France was awesome! I was highly impressed, although my jet lagged mind was really looking forward to going to bed. However, it was my first time abroad! I was so excited. Bordeaux was about 2 hours by train from Paris and the trip went by fast. I arrived at the train station in Bordeaux thinking, "how the heck am I going to get to the apartment?" But, wonder of wonders, the girl who's apartment I was subletting was there at the train station. With her boyfriend, who was VERY good at lugging around suitcases.<br />
<br />
I still had difficulty trying to speak to them in French and to understand what they were saying, but luckily gratitude and kindness are both common languages around the world.<br />
<br />
<br />
To see what I have learned about packing in the last 12 years, you can go <a href="http://travelspot06.blogspot.com/2011/03/whole-pack-age.html">here </a>. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4OIsYTP-XFNEGgzB2Dlp31Ezg5ENoJfy03iSNxi5hg7DcxxWq1RdA0Kov8GFFtFJnLUV0FD7F4tivbSL_eocEeXosE0fAP8UkxqsxNbk2If1j0qKUiC_NFpRRhpykDR9iIw9Nar24ktX/s1600/Match+Luggage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4OIsYTP-XFNEGgzB2Dlp31Ezg5ENoJfy03iSNxi5hg7DcxxWq1RdA0Kov8GFFtFJnLUV0FD7F4tivbSL_eocEeXosE0fAP8UkxqsxNbk2If1j0qKUiC_NFpRRhpykDR9iIw9Nar24ktX/s400/Match+Luggage.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Her Royal Highness's Matched Luggage" - Original Source <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SpaceBalls">HERE</a>. Edited by Me. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Kyria @ Travel Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05889638304509763419noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-14538022897734341142011-07-26T18:18:00.000-07:002011-07-26T18:28:03.764-07:00in the airAfter all the waiting and sitting and standing in lines, the moment the plane begins to roll down the runway, I would grip my husbands hand...usually with him unconscious and drooling from a corner of his mouth...close my eyes and, feel the earth disappear from under the plane and let go!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEcBmXjWj53SeamSBj5RlR94dhMyh3CFUA__50SxENxukjfZ9Q7h7hU4U_9VSaLDSej5b0g5ue_PdCTrCMXN3Ckk77F0JVPICRqGIQjbOMwEEQxZUKl3eZ6Ln5ueBHQrIogHbVQ3hIEc/s1600/IMG_4210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEcBmXjWj53SeamSBj5RlR94dhMyh3CFUA__50SxENxukjfZ9Q7h7hU4U_9VSaLDSej5b0g5ue_PdCTrCMXN3Ckk77F0JVPICRqGIQjbOMwEEQxZUKl3eZ6Ln5ueBHQrIogHbVQ3hIEc/s320/IMG_4210.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The moment I feel the plane lift into the air, I for some reason physically flex every muscle in my body from my head to my feet, probably with a constipated look on my face and always the same random thought in my head..."do I have everything? Well, if I don't, it's too late now!" <br />
<br />
Lifting into the air, away from every thought, concern, worry, problem, that I might have had a few seconds/minutes/hours prior. Where ever we just were, for better or worse, there is no going back.<br />
<br />
The second thought I have is also always the same...<br />
<br />
Am I going to die today?<br />
.....I guess it's not such a bad way to go. <br />
<br />
I begin to let go of the control over my present and future, I'm completely aware of how weightless I am in every sense. There's no more planning for where we may be heading. No more packing and preparing...just hours of time to catch up on random chick flicks and consume the small square of questionable gooey pasta and chicken in front of me with a plastic spork...<br />
<br />
I'm kind of afraid of flying, but the excitement of landing in a place totally different is for me worth facing the fear. I secretly love flipping between 15 different feature films and getting refills of wine and juice every 20 minutes. I love scanning the airline magazines and watching the carts of food, beverage and duty free roll by. Once in a while I take a look around at my fellow travelers and make up the stories of their lives...off to a business conference, first trip overseas, returning to their childhood home..all based upon how many mini booze bottles are purchased and whether or not they consume their bread and butter or crackers and cheese. Did they come prepared with travel pillow? All of our lives are temporarily paused in midair together connected only by rows of seats with little t.v.'s and matching blankets....we are all equally powerless in our current state of affairs....whatever we are in our normal lives, we are temporarily helpless passengers with our shoes off snoring in public....if a plane is public? Or is it more of a hotel room shared by 200 people....the one place I feel comfortable brushing my teeth while sitting next to a stranger.<br />
<br />
When we begin the descent, my eyes are glued out the window as the plane begins to shake and turn to odd degrees, blurring the view of the ground with an occasional wing. Sometimes, I imagine that it's only a similator and we're simply waiting for the movie out the window to finish. What color is the ground? Are their mountains, rivers, trees? I love watching the cars driving along at night below us like little ants with light bulbs for eyes....I wonder if they are looking up at me looking down at them....<br />
<br />
Then we're landing and once again, I'm grasping a fist in a sweaty ball, squinting my eyes closed and hoping for a clean and easy landing, which it almost always is....almost there, almost there, just a few more minutes and we'll be back on land...back to the reality of life and all it's little details...finding food, changing clothes, sleeping in beds....none of it as thrilling as those hours spent surrounded by clouds, dreaming about the what ifs with no control over anything accept which preview to watch next...those are the only moments, in between realities, that I feel completely allowed to do and think of nothing, because there's nothing else to do but that, breathing, thinking, watching, listening...to just be.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-68271222166191388022011-07-19T11:32:00.000-07:002011-07-19T11:32:07.284-07:00Danger! Peligro! Achung!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Bolivia
has a lot of things that sound like they may be quite scary. Here are a few
examples. You can decide whether or not YOU would be scared. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The Death Train</b>:
This is a train that goes from the border of Bolivia
and Brazil to a
town called Santa Cruz, Bolivia.
I am not sure why it is called the Death train, because it was not as bad as I
thought it would be. It was long, to be sure (21 hours, I think) but it was not
scary. The hardest part was getting tickets. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4M3KX342fDk4NX_oU0s1l6V44bBFzhTS1gaEGfbkWYTBmuNUaxDUuPkVa3I_HqmVq-plz4uwkSakLJrpd45SLJ9mMdltX-Hlvfbe8-kpLkVOCMM4eV9oTHlr3sEgZNBOg2GhVj91ptJGp/s1600/Death+Train-5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4M3KX342fDk4NX_oU0s1l6V44bBFzhTS1gaEGfbkWYTBmuNUaxDUuPkVa3I_HqmVq-plz4uwkSakLJrpd45SLJ9mMdltX-Hlvfbe8-kpLkVOCMM4eV9oTHlr3sEgZNBOg2GhVj91ptJGp/s320/Death+Train-5.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Death Train -- doesn't look so scary!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Coming from Brazil,
we first had to cross the border, which is in a little dusty town which looked
like an old California mining
town. There you could change your money over into Bolivianos, which was also
scarier than the train, as you never know if the money is going to be fake or
not. Also, when we crossed the border, Bolivia
had recently decided to start a reciprocation program with the USA,
which basically means they charge you to get a “visa”. It is supposed to cost
100 dollars but it IS negotiable, and usually NOT in your favor. The border
officials we met said that there was a “processing fee” and the amount of it
was…well, how much money DO you have? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So we got across the border and then we had to walk to town
to get tickets for the train. We bought the “first class” tickets, which means
you don’t have to sit on a bench with a bunch of other people and their
chickens. You get your own seat. However, the train did not have food or
drinks, so the night before, we had to stock up! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The train ride was long, the first class seats were not that
comfortable, but all in all, the Death Train was pretty tame. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The World’s Most
Dangerous Road</b>: This is near La Paz and it starts at about 4000 meters
(13,000 feet) and goes down to about 1000 meters (3300 feet). We decided to mountain
bike down it. This can be done in about 4 or 5 hours. Half of it was paved and
half dirt, but the whole thing was a lot of fun! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Strikes and Protests</b>:
Pretty much every day I was in Bolivia
there was some kind of strike or protest. The president at the time, Evo
Morales, was prohibited from leaving one city by protestors; the protestors
bombed a bridge to keep everyone in another city. A few days before I was
scheduled to leave Cochabamba and
go to La Paz, the roads were all
closed and blockaded and people were protesting in the streets. I heard stories
from the locals about how certain times the cities were closed in for days and
people were going hungry. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, I was there for a couple of months and I did see a
lot of protests and strikes, but they were not usually violent. What they
usually consist of is the everyday people rallying against the government, who,
to be fair, are pretty much taking everything from them. By far, the biggest
cash crop in Bolivia
is Coca leaves, which are picked and then shipped to countries like Columbia,
where they make cocaine out of it. However, the farmers and the little people
don’t see any of that money. The government takes it. So people like Evo get
rich while the little guys do all the (dangerous) work. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Altitude Sickness</b>:
Bolivia has
some of the highest places that you can easily get to. However, this can pose a
threat, since you really shouldn’t fly from sea level and land at 13,000 feet.
This doesn’t stop people (my friend Heather) from doing it. We went to Lake
Titicaca, which sits at about 13,000 feet, the day after she
arrived and she was having a very hard time walking around! I suggest taking a
few days at a lower altitude before jumping right to the high stuff! </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.tombullock.com/images/kotiaLlamas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.tombullock.com/images/kotiaLlamas.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.tombullock.com/images/kotiaLlamas.jpg">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So, even though Bolivia
doesn’t have (like Australia)
the MOST deadly snake in the world… it has its share of danger, both real and
imagined. However, even though they have scary names, I personally never felt
like I was in danger there. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Have you ever been in
a (real or imagined) scary situation? What did you do? </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Also, this little blog was nominated for Best In Travel at <a href="http://forblogs.blogspot.com/2011/07/best-in-category-voting-linky.html">For
The Love of Blogs</a>. Go <a href="http://forblogs.blogspot.com/2011/07/best-in-category-voting-linky.html">HERE</a>
to vote for us (#48), or any blog you think is your favorite. Just click the
“like” button below the one(s) you like! </div>
Kyria @ Travel Spothttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05889638304509763419noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-75929716161763317232011-07-18T08:44:00.000-07:002011-07-18T10:12:27.697-07:00The late homecomer - a hmong family memoirI've been reading the novel "The Late Homecomer" and every page is like reading about the life of a woman and her community that I've seen and heard everyday growing up around me, but never felt in my heart I understood and always wanted to.... <br />
<br />
Kao Kalia Yang tells the incredible story of her families journey from the mountains of Northern Laos, where they were forced to flee for their lives into Thailand due to a secret war in which the young Hmong village men were fighting for the Americans. From the camps in Thailand, they then immigrated to St. Paul Minnesota.....the city I was born. I grew up on the "other side" of her story, which makes it all the more precious for me to learn about her families journey to the East Side of St. Paul Minnesota....my childhood home.<br />
<br />
...thru this book, combined with the experiences of my travels thru Thailand and northern Laos, a whole world and culture that once mystified and puzzled me is opening up! It's as if the authors personal life and my life have been running on two different sets of tracks, always running close to parallel and now they have finally crossed!<br />
<br />
Her story has hit me deep. We were the same age growing up in the same city, but with completely different experiences..until now. I understand her difficult cultural experiences growing up in my home town, perhaps even sharing the elementary school playground with my brother, or her mother buying groceries next to my mother, but I've also now gotten the chance to travel thru Thailand and Laos and eaten the Khao Pad she loved as a toddler and seen the mountains of Laos her family once farmed. I crossed the Mekong river which her family was forced to swim across to save their lives and I've driven in buses thru the winding forest jungles of Northern Laos.....to have first hand experience now of both sides of her story, it makes every detail that I read of what they've been thru come to life! <br />
<br />
It's a unique experience now to finally hear and understand her story from where I stand today, not as a little white girl confused about why her classmate doesn't speak to her or want to share her potato chips, but as an open minded grown adult yearning to understand and learn about how other women live in other cultures....or perhaps like Kao....to hear how women coming from other cultures think about and live in my own...speaking of it as a foreign land where mustard looks like baby poop....perhaps similar to how I felt about some of the fishy sauces I tried and made pucker faces at in Laos! <br />
<br />
My husband is from Chile and although my time there has not been anywhere as close to what Kao's family has been thru to move to America, the experience of living in a different culture as an outsider long term, unable to speak the language, eating weird foods and feeling stared at (something all travelers experience) has made me much more focused on how important it is that women learn how to communicate their stories of their lives to one another, that although we all look different, we are more similar then we think, our own unique group of like individuals...women who've experienced many parts of the world....we are not alone!<br />
<br />
Like Kao has done in her articulate and heart felt novel of her families history....without storytellers who can cross the great cultural divides and speak out to other women about their experiences, we will remain divided! The more I travel, the more I crave to hear stories such as hers, both the good and the bad of their adventures as women and what it's been like for them. <br />
<br />
For anyone who wants to learn more about the hmong community and have a clearer understanding of why they needed to immigrate to the States and what that was like, this is a wonderful book I think you would appreciate and enjoy reading! I hope that some day it could become required reading in my school district where students of different race still sit on opposite sides of the lunch room, scared to cross the divide....may my children's understanding of the cultures around them be more open minded then my own!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/JSzQffmBmPI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-91956059537409326952011-07-15T06:03:00.000-07:002011-07-15T06:03:10.586-07:00food of the seaI had never eaten or seen so many kinds of aquatic delicacies and in so many different cultural ways before spending time in other countries.<br />
<br />
I'm from Minnesota...the closest we get to 'exotic seafood' comes in a tin that could still be eaten in 20 years. Tuna is about it.....maybe some pre cooked, pre peeled shrimp with cocktail sauce for you know...weddings.<br />
<br />
Yes, you can go out and find anything and everything, but the average Minnesotan wouldn't touch most of it with a ten foot pole....which, makes sense....if you live in the middle of prairie land with no ocean in sight and someone offers you a raw oyster...now, where exactly did that oyster come from? It sure wasn't Lake Michigan!<br />
<br />
So. This past year I got myself a little seafood education!<br />
<br />
Our very first stop happened to be Tokyo...you know....just the capital city of all seafood eating in the entire world! So, of course we stopped by the fish market near Ginza, not quite in time to witness the selling of the tuna at 4am, but around 8am when you can still watch squids scurry around (among many other mystery creatures) in little tubs and men also scurry around on little carts speeding around as if their lives depended on it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0YWIz2E-MSk8FG5LwcXd-jqmZQHILiZLf4YLzNAa3QLrVtJ9NTay_Xg2Se0beluDMkU0gcEvY7V5KyXqLmImBz3qbIeyllBhFblmzljiItGAAb0HYET0tGK2EvOktxFvIRwddeGZGegw/s1600/IMG_0776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0YWIz2E-MSk8FG5LwcXd-jqmZQHILiZLf4YLzNAa3QLrVtJ9NTay_Xg2Se0beluDMkU0gcEvY7V5KyXqLmImBz3qbIeyllBhFblmzljiItGAAb0HYET0tGK2EvOktxFvIRwddeGZGegw/s200/IMG_0776.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fish market at 8am - crates and crates of mysterious seafood</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBx0CrxFz4RQ0YD8iQqYVrLGOgg_wNmCRXBGGUbXw7a1TByL1UDAX16sxPUm11fxinvOdb5AZ4tK47D21pEc02fVeaXsvAZpOMINBC5GwmBtCM8d7kFRT7mNviHwChex6ej43I8kdCEE/s1600/IMG_0780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBx0CrxFz4RQ0YD8iQqYVrLGOgg_wNmCRXBGGUbXw7a1TByL1UDAX16sxPUm11fxinvOdb5AZ4tK47D21pEc02fVeaXsvAZpOMINBC5GwmBtCM8d7kFRT7mNviHwChex6ej43I8kdCEE/s200/IMG_0780.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuna heads in the Tokyo fish market</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwBS6-Xkl5sD1Ehlobf1KrScCfmafD-Td6Xz7PUB2LpoDf9KvKUH_FGzQ09bUU9SyjTJhdb39duM5XGUQ_MggFyHNKrXnX2QTEz-c6wgpSE6miDB7re6VO0kbaN_n5z_Qcm6aiIXoa4E/s1600/IMG_0779.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwBS6-Xkl5sD1Ehlobf1KrScCfmafD-Td6Xz7PUB2LpoDf9KvKUH_FGzQ09bUU9SyjTJhdb39duM5XGUQ_MggFyHNKrXnX2QTEz-c6wgpSE6miDB7re6VO0kbaN_n5z_Qcm6aiIXoa4E/s200/IMG_0779.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tokyo squid waiting to be bought</td></tr>
</tbody></table>When we were traveling S.E.Asia, I realized that most of the world eats their fish/seafood whole...with skin, bones and little heads still attached! I still remember the first time thinking, "For real!?! Aren't they going to cut it up? Did they take the guts out? Am I supposed to eat the eye balls?" Now, I prefer getting the entire fish on my plate, because it's fun to poke around and get all the meat from the bones, (less waste) plus, it's nice to get to know what kind of fish I'm eating and see what it looks like!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhckty05AME2EvPfXdgmHaJ1-d3GvFzcJB1a6HCV_Si7bT5fcGTrU1wpHV14A9gYg7GeWoTYU-vlZiJcW1q6jLp7kZQQfMKVAH1_0qa1fLbp038qgirL0wOlp3pDjYnh1lyZl3P2srEkc4/s1600/IMG_2147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhckty05AME2EvPfXdgmHaJ1-d3GvFzcJB1a6HCV_Si7bT5fcGTrU1wpHV14A9gYg7GeWoTYU-vlZiJcW1q6jLp7kZQQfMKVAH1_0qa1fLbp038qgirL0wOlp3pDjYnh1lyZl3P2srEkc4/s200/IMG_2147.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Krabi Thailand outdoor food market - grilled squid on a stick<br />
They display it whole and cut into small pieces for you to eat it - because it's chewy!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfv-96kwEiJ1AptJsdNUTNB9gZII6SPcHJq99Z-uimaspng6EDAYvqNCjs8uWyxlSkwl49vnQzfiSJCw_cq3ketL8F1KcyniG4WEKRtm1uRNVPCsR-1vs2OqDxDwbjVeTswXj57qi1_Q/s1600/IMG_2261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfv-96kwEiJ1AptJsdNUTNB9gZII6SPcHJq99Z-uimaspng6EDAYvqNCjs8uWyxlSkwl49vnQzfiSJCw_cq3ketL8F1KcyniG4WEKRtm1uRNVPCsR-1vs2OqDxDwbjVeTswXj57qi1_Q/s320/IMG_2261.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When you buy a grilled fish in Thailand, it often comes with spicy sauces and salads<br />
We ate this fish sitting in the sand on a beach, waiting for the sunset.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have to admit that our trip to Spain opened my horizons to seafood as a delicacy! Eating it was a reason to live! Everything tasted so delicious, prepared so perfectly with just the right amounts of herbs/lemon/olive oil/butter/smoked paprika and of course sides of olives or pickled veggies... then you dip your fresh bread into the juices leftover from these delicious concoctions...wow! I'm dying to go back! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can only imagine what it's like to eat in Portugal!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBQYIKoTrRHHoeoue6A-xFTNJYSEeMYldzp1yQu2NcO9WesE2MUq6OTN917fiT9oRjJVh2_cI_RpfkIcyqE__r8kSj_0VTp1o_Pbxnp-cB5UzNDGMS11ildgCNcDGgcDhsjVzkHxy1NM/s1600/blog1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBQYIKoTrRHHoeoue6A-xFTNJYSEeMYldzp1yQu2NcO9WesE2MUq6OTN917fiT9oRjJVh2_cI_RpfkIcyqE__r8kSj_0VTp1o_Pbxnp-cB5UzNDGMS11ildgCNcDGgcDhsjVzkHxy1NM/s640/blog1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a taste of the the incredible seafood tapas/dishes we shared with friends in Spain. </td></tr>
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">I heart tapas! I loved the culture of sharing that takes place with eating these incredible seafood dishes in Spain. You sit with friends and family for hours talking and sipping wine as they bring out the different plates one by one and everyone takes little bits of each as they go, totally unconcerned about the rest of the world or what time it is, which creates a beautiful moment of togetherness as everyone "mmm's" away chewing deliciousness.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The last stop of our journey was 5 beautiful summer months in Chile, which is a country with a great love and passion for good quality seafood, being a very long coastal country giving it access to such things! There are types of seafood here that don't have names and can't be found in other parts of the world and they take great pride in that! From sea urchins, to peubre (little bright red chewy mussels that live in rocks) to oysters, to all of the different types of mussels available.....if it's growing in the ocean....they'll eat it!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRDq2MUVHsTPvT4iBZLsqlbS5XFv1DCFBS-yEXT7m_wBCi4ZvxIAxzDCwG0VctbAjaFboUk8HuZat4XGYSSMlcnHdqoGLmSWwFIiGBE6PPb_Y4woLmuOWvXSPI65pKrX2ANTMdDKt8-I/s1600/blog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtRDq2MUVHsTPvT4iBZLsqlbS5XFv1DCFBS-yEXT7m_wBCi4ZvxIAxzDCwG0VctbAjaFboUk8HuZat4XGYSSMlcnHdqoGLmSWwFIiGBE6PPb_Y4woLmuOWvXSPI65pKrX2ANTMdDKt8-I/s640/blog2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: Chilean king crab, mussels, oysters, locos, shrimp, but in Chile there is plenty more where that came from!<br />
The king crab (bottom/center) we purchased from the fisherman in the orange shirt for $4 on the Island of Chiloe<br />
...that same crab generally sells in Santiago for around $60-70</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Chileans like to keep their seafood dishes basic and simple. Butter, salt, lemon, done. But really, to add on extras to something that is so delicious by itself is a bit ridiculous!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Chile is where I first discovered on my first trip there 5 years ago that people actually eat mussels, not just pull them off of their boats when they fish! There are so many delicacies to try in Chile, particularly on the island of Chiloe in the south where seafood is good, in huge portions and cheap! You can eat like a king on fish, mussels and so much more! However, any coastal port/city/town/hut on the side of the highway can offer you the fresh catch of the day for a few dollars....when my Chilean husband first visited California, he drove up and down the coastal towns looking for that "fish shack" offering the catch of the day and was so disappointed to learn that it didn't exist!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJkIQ-78xcDPJdMKeHsA5Zm5CG2sxqqRUFzf5Ik7FNHMTBYU2tPDCUwEvS5KHhh9qKKbpdjJyp89F1CLgdaDGNYBgXqNZHztzpXJ82hyihh54erDR596snKRYr7ZscB6bgcWkzKe87tiE/s1600/IMG_1664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJkIQ-78xcDPJdMKeHsA5Zm5CG2sxqqRUFzf5Ik7FNHMTBYU2tPDCUwEvS5KHhh9qKKbpdjJyp89F1CLgdaDGNYBgXqNZHztzpXJ82hyihh54erDR596snKRYr7ZscB6bgcWkzKe87tiE/s320/IMG_1664.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fixings for a seafood steam boat (vat of spicy broth) in the Highlands of Malaysia<br />
Also the first time I ever tried cuddle fish</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Before journeys to far off lands that were close to far off oceans, I had no idea what seafood could be like. Now, I'm spoiled, I love trying odd and unusual looking treasures from the oceans, each with it's own unique flavor and texture, as well as learning how each country and culture has a unique way of eating and appreciating these delicious creatures. I can't wait for more! Why did I move back to the mid west???</div></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2863952377824110719.post-88217153108418795422011-07-14T06:03:00.000-07:002011-07-15T06:06:06.466-07:00One of the most ferocious and fearless animals in the worldHoney badger....sounds cute right?<br />
He even looks and acts cute, as you see here:<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ObFFtFxsp5CajyhYgdC56G91vww17Ff9EwbYto7gXmDU7a8tjYS4juVsjOblvnYdK2wqFj364U31fR9dKEkW3i1MEmqrDKMXNw3PpXAxGPhyuZXNHtx6ehR5rOOFP5zUOI_QThw4EMs/s1600/IMG_0138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ObFFtFxsp5CajyhYgdC56G91vww17Ff9EwbYto7gXmDU7a8tjYS4juVsjOblvnYdK2wqFj364U31fR9dKEkW3i1MEmqrDKMXNw3PpXAxGPhyuZXNHtx6ehR5rOOFP5zUOI_QThw4EMs/s320/IMG_0138.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honey badger at <a href="http://www.moholoholo.co.za/">Moholoholo Rehab Center</a> in South Africa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Awwww...totally adorable! Look at those little beady eyes! I just want to hug him!<br />
<br />
or how about this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3L1Ya9cWG_F_eUOqTgPVMObIxGvWYUmUl97ovjc1zpKYyi2pZC93N3n12qAVrzezPseriRMJ9qgU1v0i87-Q7krnpjopWJhjkHuCQQ9rJVCD49SerxBjxW7V9z0gi0ppMNRwG3uZQXc/s1600/IMG_0136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3L1Ya9cWG_F_eUOqTgPVMObIxGvWYUmUl97ovjc1zpKYyi2pZC93N3n12qAVrzezPseriRMJ9qgU1v0i87-Q7krnpjopWJhjkHuCQQ9rJVCD49SerxBjxW7V9z0gi0ppMNRwG3uZQXc/s320/IMG_0136.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Honey badgers waiting for their dinner</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It just makes me want to ooh and ahh and make little gargly baby noises all day....or....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">that's what I thought until our guide pulled out scraps of meat and threw them into their 7 foot deep and 20 foot wide dirt hole that they lived in surrounded by electric fencing.....the sharp teeth came out with bits of meat disappearing in seconds and blood dripping down their chins...</div><br />
As we learned that day, the honey badger is a vicious carnivore that is considered one of the most ferocious animals in the world...the dudes are smart, nasty and go for the kill in the most, well, uncomfortable way possible....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-HV5K7mkxygI1QPed04aq9-gXilzG-bW_Xn3d1hpp3u-hPOT0e-ZoEWMhe9Z-xVRB_q4ONCU5boHwEWWd_fAGi7K7DrANF3ZokMiBStQMEuuftudwIojpw5fUNlMQqbPh32recAq4SY/s1600/IMG_0137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-HV5K7mkxygI1QPed04aq9-gXilzG-bW_Xn3d1hpp3u-hPOT0e-ZoEWMhe9Z-xVRB_q4ONCU5boHwEWWd_fAGi7K7DrANF3ZokMiBStQMEuuftudwIojpw5fUNlMQqbPh32recAq4SY/s320/IMG_0137.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>So...you see those cute little paws with those cute little claws? (pictured to the left)<br />
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The honey badger's preferred way to hunt is to take down a small to medium sized animal...beit elephant, water buffalo, antelope, by grabbing on to the animals junk...and biting it off...<br />
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....yup, you heard right...the family treasure, the goods, manhood...<br />
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from there, he follows it around until the animal bleeds to death<br />
AHHHHHH!!!!<br />
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They can also get bitten by poisonous snakes and survive by sleeping it off for a few hours, similar to a bad hangover, wake up, shake it off and be fine!<br />
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These little guys are nasty, cruel and really, really smart!<br />
Just the pair in the rehab center had at one point escaped from their 7 foot deep hole by collecting sticks in their dirt cave and put together a homemade badger ladder. They managed to escape in the middle of the night! They were (fortunate for the other animals I guess) found and returned shortly after.<br />
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It was cool to see them in person, but at that moment, I was pretty glad not to be a dude in Africa. <br />
Definitely a bit less to worry about!<br />
<br />
After we went to visit <a href="http://www.moholoholo.co.za/">Moholoholo Rehab Center</a> (near Krueger Park in the north of South Africa), we were staying at a hostel down the road and started talking with the owner about how cool and crazy we thought these little guys were and he immediately had this to say:<br />
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"Don't talk to me about honey badgers! I hate them! Nasty bleepity bleeps! They're horrible! A pair of them came thru my land and killed all 30 of my chickens and 5 of my sheep! Didn't even bother to eat them, just killed them for fun! I stayed up for 3 nights with a shot gun waiting for the little *bleeps* to come back! So don't talk to me about honey badgers!"<br />
<br />
Uh. Ok. Fair enough!<br />
<br />
The one thing I learned in South Africa watching and learning about animals is that every animal is a part of the natural order of the food chain. Without one, the others cannot exist. There are even different kinds of vultures that do certain kinds of carcass picking....some designed to find the animal from the sky, others to break it open with their super strong beaks and small ones to pick off the bits and pieces the big ones can't get to....full service carcass cleaning! At your service!<br />
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I can see how having a honey badger around for a vulture or a coyote could be nice and plays a valuable role in the circle of life, but as a farmer with nice juicy chickens that have little delicious necks to chew on as well as your own personal, well, safety!...I can totally sympathize....<br />
But the point remains, no matter what your take is on them...<br />
Wow. What a way to go! CRAZY!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01973134757497397996noreply@blogger.com3