An Inauspicious Beginning (Part 1)

Saturday, May 1 dawned fair and bright. It was here. My friend had met his match-age 30 had arrived. 

After plenty of festive celebration the night before,  we made grand plans to depart for the Princes Marmara Islands promptly at 9 a.m. This was our first mistake. Planning to move ten people around in the US of A calls for some significant strategizing. Planning to move ten people around on a foreign continent calls for a cluster.

Headed to Buyukada

Some educational information first: The Princes' Islands are made up of nine islands in the Sea of Marmara, four of which you can visit. All are accessible by ferry, no cars are allowed, and it is a convenient day trip from Istanbul. Our island of choice was Buyukada.

The birthday boy himself did not even arise out of bed until past the time of intended departure. Which, if you know him at all, is not the least bit shocking. By the time we all made our way to the docks to find a ferry, the boat had of course,  long ago left us behind. Furthermore, we weren't even at the right dock, due to the fact that in Turkey, most of the signs are in, well, Turkish. To be expected of course, but usually somewhere there is English. Not so much in Istanbul. To compound this, aside from the touts who want to sell you a million dollar ride on the Bosphorus, there are not a plethora of English speakers just waiting to help a band of ten straggle their way to a boat.
Aaaaah well, we were already late and there was no point hurrying now. Finally meandering our way to the  proper dock a short time later, we got on with ease and awaited our departure. While we were waiting, this nice man on the right decided to ram our large boat with his large boat. We are not completely sure why, but I suppose it has something to do with how they like to dock boats. All I know is, it felt a little Titanic-esque without the iceberg.  Why on earth anyone would try to parallel park a seagoing vessel?

Our sea chariot

Once underway, we find things a bit breezy and chilly, but not altogether unpleasant. Mostly we are just excited to get out of Istanbul for the day and see a little more of Turkey. After the eternal and blustery voyage, we finally disembark at Buyukada and immediately need food. Since we are way behind schedule, we are way behind on food. I am way behind on the bathroom, (the ferry had squat toilets and I had no desire to squat) so I speed race off to locate a civilized toilet. When I return, I find our group comfortably seated seaside, with a table square in the warm sunlight. Perfect.

Mr. Fishy

Preferring Morton's fish sticks to most freshly caught sea creatures, I elected to share a kebab and rice plate  and a side of zucchini fries with Mary.  Yes, zucchini fries. I was more than excited to find them in Turkey. At this point, the never-ending lunch commenced.  We waited. And waited. And waited some more. Somehow, I was elected spokesperson of the group and had to continually get up to ask this guy (Mr.Fishy) when he thought our food would be arriving, per chance? Now, I am not that American who goes abroad and expects everything to be the same as it is at home. But THIS was really pushing it. His answer? "Oh, just a minute! Or two." And then,  after a moment of thought and consternation he offered "maybe 5 more minutes?" Oh dear. Lunch didn't sound as if it had even been caught yet.

Zucchini deliciousness

After a length of time that certainly exceeded the dubious promise of "maybe 5 more minutes" the food comes rolling out. When there are 10 people eating, it just sort of comes out in a tidal wave. First course of appetizers were decent, the zuch fries surprisingly good. The grape leaves, disgusting. Good thing I enjoyed my fries, because once the main meals started arriving, that was it for me. My little kebab never made it from the waiter to the cook and there I sat. Hungry. You know what happens when I am hungry. Bad things. Once more,  I approach Mr. Fishy to assess when said kebab would be arriving. He looks at me, surprised, and tells me "two more minutes." Yeah right. We have been there at least two hours at this point. By the time he does actually bring our food, Mary is so put out by the length of the lunch meal, that she..... SENDS IT BACK!!! Are you KIDDING ME??! A reverse tug-of-war ensued, with Mr. Fishy attempting  valiantly to put the plate down in front of her and with Mary adamantly refusing to allow him to do so.   And all I can do is look longingly upon it, as its spicy, pungent scent wafts gently past my nose. She was sticking to her guns, I had no choice.  We were apparently standing on principle.

Mary won the war and off went the kebab. It crept its way back into the bill though, at which point I trudged back over to Mr. Fishy to tell him we would not be paying for the kebab. He appeared not to understand, but eventually it disappeared from our tab. In its place? A "chef tip." Siiiiigh. 2 points-Fishy. 1 point-us.

Now, as I am on the eve of the birthday mentioned at the beginning of this post, I would like to know how you readers celebrated your 30th. If you are not yet 30, how do you plan to celebrate or is it just not that big of a deal?

My Love/Hate Relationship With Your Travel Blog

There. I said it.

I love your travel blog and I hate your travel blog.

Who are you? Anyone with a blog  filled with colorful tales of escapades abroad. You know, like the time you had to sweet-talk the Indian consulate into giving you a visa, got swindled by the taxi driver in Costa Rica, went partying with the Germans in Guatemala, sustained an injury on the Great Wall of China,  or  got mobbed by Bangladeshi street kids while handing out oranges.

Here's the thing:  I have been possessed with a touch of the green-eyed monster as of late and I am not completely sure why. All of the above adventures are mine, so it is clear that I have not just been sitting at home on my duff for the last 10 years. Truly, I have been blessed with amazing opportunities to see our wonderful world. But I want more. And every time I read a blog post detailing some place I have yet to see, or even some place I have already been, I am overwhelmed with either wanderlust or nostalgia, or what I like to call "wanderalgia", a lethal combination of both of those.  When wanderalgia strikes, I am stuck in a mopey, petulant child funk the rest of the day and that is when I know the madness must stop. Timeout from your blog is put in effect.  But then I miss the updates and the stories and inevitably, I go back for more, just like a jilted suitor.
For most of the last 10 years, I have always had some sort of plan in the works for next adventure. Always a next destination, always something to look forward to. This past year has been no exception either-Tanzania/Zanzibar at the end of last year, followed by Turkey in April, followed by our Wild West honeymoon adventure. And now? I got nuthin.'  Zip. The agenda is free and clear and I don't like it one single bit. Which is why I have troubles reading your blog sometimes. The nagging thoughts start at the headline and whisper their way through the entry--"what if I never go anywhere again? what if my adventures are over?

"WELL PLAN SOMETHING THEN YOU CRAZY PERSON!"  you are probably thinking.  Well, I'd like to, but I can't just go out willy-nilly and spend cold hard cash on airfare and souvenirs when I have newly assumed rent and other life expenses  to pay right?

But that is nothing compared to the kingpin of negative thoughts, and here is my second confession for today:  I am going to be 30 in just a few weeks. With 30 comes all sorts of adult things. Marriage is a recent development for me, THAT birthday is on the  imminent horizon, and according to everybody who finds out about said recent marriage, kids will soon be coming along. Perish that thought right now. Eventually, yes of course, but right this second is not on the schedule. Soon"ish."  Am I getting old? Washed-up? Settled? *gasp*. I hope not. But without a trip planned, it sure feels like it. So, right now, I live vicariously through you and yours, which is both the curse and the blessing.

Now, before you consider calling one of my loved ones and putting me on some sort of watch, here is the good news. As I have grown up, I have also grown to appreciate the "lesser" adventures.  No, I don't need an African extravaganza every year to keep me happy. Sure, it would be fantastic, but it simply isn't going to happen. And if I don't accept that, I would just be plain miserable. I truly enjoy the smaller weekend adventures, the day trips, and the fun night out. It's not all about crickets on a stick or wild bus rides in the Andes Mountains with me.

Having clarified my mental state, I still would buy a ticket somewhere right now if I had the resources to do so. But here is the other good news: when I first started writing this post, I had only the plan of going back to substitute teaching this year, despite having finished my studies and gotten certified. Then came the phone call heard 'round the world. 36  hours and one 12 minute interview later, I am writing to you as the newest public school teacher in the WV. Woo-hoo! Benefits! Paid snow days! Aaaannnd.....most importantly, a steady paycheck with which to start planning my next trip! All is right with the world again. At least until I read your next blog entry with glowing reports of some back-alley gem of a restaurant in a Beijing hutong or the spectacular sunset on Bali. Then I may want to throw darts at my computer screen.

Am I alone here? Any other wanderlusters ever go through this period in life? Perhaps not, but it sure felt good to get all this down in print.

Reeeealllly important call at the Great Wall. 

The Wedding Wrap-Up

 In case I hadn't mentioned it in every travel post from March through May...I got married! A few of you have asked for details and pictures and so today, I deviate from the theme of this blog to bring you Wedding 2010 in the Wild and Wonderful.

First, the Relationship: Together 3.5 years, Engaged for 14 months, Married just over 2 months.
Love at First Sight?: We met playing volleyball. He was convinced that I was going to be his next girlfriend. I spent the next six months trying to prove him wrong. He won that argument.
The Engagement: Occurred March of 2009 in Independence Park, Philadelphia. It's where I lost my full independence ;) but gained a partner.
The Wedding: May 29, 2010 in the backyard of his grandmother's house. Beautiful location. Reception at an old historic hotel in Shepherdstown WV.
Week before Wedding: Hell On Earth. It deserves its own capital letters and everything.  I do not ever, EVER, want to live through a week like that again. And we are fairly simple people, none of this hooplah over minutiae, no drama. Bridezilla, I am not. I cannot imagine planning a wedding where  details are king and everything must be perfect.  I have complete and upmost empathy for any brides-to-be and will now bend over backwards to be of service to them. Luckily, I have an amazing group of girlfriends that pulled through. And Adam, for being like most men who does not care about colors, seating, and lighting, was pretty decently helpful. Good work love! (He reads this blog, must say nice things. And in this case, they are true!).

Wedding day: Calm and peaceful. No rain. Oh, did I mention that a full meltdown occurred the day before when upon checking weather.com, angry looking lightning bolts and black clouds were graciously pictured right under "Saturday, May 29th"?  Outdoor weddings do not mesh well with water.
Best part of the day: The Vows. Nobody bothering us, just me and him.
Enjoy a few pics of the day!