Vegas, Here We Come! (oh and Grand Canyon---comin' for you too....)

Our honeymoon is now three days away and we are both pretty darn excited. First time to Vegas and Grand Canyon for both of us, and actually, first extended trip together, period. We went to Chicago for a few fabulous days last summer, but we were in a giant herd of friends and annoying people. This time it's just the two of us. Insert cute song here.  After months of research and price-checking, we decided on dates (June 29-July 6), hotel (Bally's on the Strip), vehicle (top-down Jeep) and another hotel for when we get to Arizona and the Canyon (The Lodge on Rt. 66). Lots of decisions.

After two days in Vegas, we will ride with the open road out to Williams, Arizona and this will be our spot for the next few days while we explore the Canyon, Sedona, and Flagstaff. I can't think of many things more nostalgic then spending the 4th of July in a small town in the southwest,  off Rt. 66, no less. Am I more excited about this, or the giant barbecue that will be held while we are there? That, my friends, is a tough one. You all know how I long for and rhapsodize over food. See my post about Austin, Texas if there is any confusion. And speaking of food! Have you guys ever utilized Restaurant.com for some serious discounts? It's either the world's biggest scam and my bank account is being depleted even as I write this, or the best-kept secret. Right now, if you visit the website and use the promo code "summer," you can order a $25 gift certificate to certain Vegas restaurants and pay $2. My eyes were as big as saucers when I found this deal. Clearly, I let all that excitement get to my head because I promptly ordered $100 worth of coupons (paid $8) and then realized you can only use one per visit in a month. So now I have just gone and wasted $6 which sort of defeats the entire purpose of saving money.  Perhaps I should learn to temper my frugality with some fine print.  Aah well, maybe I can find some other kindred soul on the streets of Vegas and give it to them.

Then off to Williams in our rented Jeep. This is the husband's one "must-have" of the entire trip and so top-down Jeep ride we shall enjoy! I sort of orchestrated everything else on the honeymoon and so the man needs to have one thing he picked out. And by "sort of" I mean that essentially, all plans have been made by me. He is fine with that and well, let's face it, I am too.

I think we will have plenty to occupy our time this week and even more importantly, I think it's gonna be great. Just me and him, exploring a little Southwest together.

Taking any and all suggestions for things to definitely do, and things to definitely avoid. We are Virgin Vegasers. I could go some many places with the previous sentence, but I will keep this all G-rated for ya. Hey!- as a newly married woman, I've got jokes.

To Guide or Not to Guide?

As promised, I am going to elaborate a bit more on this trip to Turkey (and show some pictures). Specifically, the merits of having a guidebook or wingin' it on some vague information and a prayer. The was a first time event for me-traveling without a Lonely Planet of my very own that I keep by my side as if it was my last dollar, use as a pillow, and lovingly caress before I go to sleep each night.  You think I'm joking. So venturing to the city that marks a division between East and West sans Lonely Planet was one small step for my fellow travelers, one giant leap for me.

During the weeks leading up to the trip, I had plenty of time to head over to Amazon, find my book, click and buy. Aahhh, that shiny, glossy, Blue cover, just begging to be bought. Yet each time I looked, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Perhaps it was my inner traveler begging me to do it just once, just ONCE go wild and free! Live dangerously and don't figure out in advance how to get from the flat to the metro! Don't find out how to say thanks! Find the bus station by following the crowd! However, I suspect it was actually my inner cheapskate preventing me from purchasing LP's guide to Istanbul. Those of you who know me and/or have traveled with me, know I am frugal by nature-I travel on a dime and only splurge on the big things. I have been known to get out of a cab because he charged us a dollar (one little dollar!) more than I thought was fair. And with a wedding in the very immediate future and the myriad of expenses that go along with it, I decided that this one time, I would forego the Blue.

My resolve lasted until just off the runway after an Amsterdam layover.  The lady in the row ahead of mine had what I coveted. I could practically read along with her if I angled my neck just right. I was sitting beside the birthday boy and we both realized how little we knew about where we were going. I started to feel panicky, and completely uneducated about this foreign place. What if I never made it to the must-sees? What if I missed the best place to find a kabob? What if I never learned a single thing to educate my students? Seizing the moment when she laid the book on the seat beside hers, I pounced. "Excuse me, but do you mind if I look at your book for a few minutes?" Looking somewhat nonplussed and startled, she handed it to me. High on life! I felt how an addict must feel when they finally get a fix. I crammed all the pertinent info into my weary brain and sat back, somewhat relieved.

Now, fast forward to our first morning there and we are all making our plans to head out for the day. I am somewhat confident because two other people have Blue, so I know our day's journey will at least be well-informed. But I don't have it, so I feel like I am missing a limb. Or my eyesight. Again, I am not kidding. Even as I write this, I realize how crazy I must sound. But when I travel, my M.O is to have the logistics down (how to find transport, rough costs of food, fees,  ideas for hostels, etc), and then the plan will fall into place. I usually only know for certain where I am staying the first night and then the rest just happens.  As we head out, I realize I cannot be in control of anything, because I don't actually know anything. As we proceed through that first day and encounter innumerable mishaps, confusing directions, and the loss of various people at different points, the awakening occurs. I am FREE! I have no book, therefore I have no authority, I have no pre-obtained information. By the third day, when we all proceed en masse to the wrong ferry dock, only to find that not only were we at the wrong dock, but at the right dock, our ship had already gone and sailed down the Bosphorus without us. I stood back, amused, and without a slight care in the world. I had no book, I was not in charge, I was not responsible for incidents like this one. Pretty cool huh?

Will I be adopting this as my mode of travel from now on? Nah, probably not.  I am on to planning the honeymoon and I have not one, but two guidebooks.  Disclaimer: both were given to me.  Next stops: Vegas and Grand Canyon! But it was pretty nice to not have the Blue, I will admit.   After all, isn't the adventure in the journey, not the destination? (I know, I know, some other wise person authored that quote, but it fit pretty nicely here to wrap up this post).

What do you fellow travelers think? How do you like to travel-guide or no guide?

Indecent Proposal

 I'm back from marriage and all that good stuff ;)

You know it's going to be an eventful trip when a random Turkish man offers 125 camels, 7,000 sheep, and his jacket in exchange for one of your fellow female travelers. Yes, this actually happened. We were sitting in Sultanahmet Square, relaxing, enjoying the view of the Blue Mosque, when Terra apparently struck Turk's fancy. The man was persistent, I'll give him that. At first it was just the 125 camels he offered-a proposal at which we scoffed. (Surely she's worth at least twice that amount. ha!)  When Turk realized we were not down with the 125 camels, he threw in the sheep.  I think he sensed his prize slipping away. Throwing in his jacket for last desperate measure, I assume he truly believed that we would actually be persuaded  to give up poor Terra in return for a Noah's ark of smelly livestock animals and one nondescript men's jacket.  Although........such an exchange wouldhave  likely made us extremely wealthy by Turkish standards. Hmmmm. Camels and sheep don't appeal to me though. Now, if he had offered  a few Turkish rugs and a lifetime supply of Turkish baklava, I might be writing a different Turkish story. Have you ever in your life had chocolate baklava??
A. Maz. Ing.  A scene was almost created over the sheer deliciousness of this dessert.

Oh fine. I wouldn't really have let my friend go for mere household goods and a sweet treat. But seriously, eat some chocolate baklava while reclining on a sumptuous rug. You too might be tempted.

(just kidding Terra!)

Here is the chocolate baklava in all of its glory. Below that is a photo of me acting the part of tourist in the Square, behind is the Blue Mosque.

Timeout!

I know, I know, I have been gratuitously negligent (I really just wanted to use the word "gratuitious" right then and there) on updating everyone on my latest adventure. I went on a rampage over the airport debaucle, and now some of you probably think I had a terrible time in Turkey and am just covering it up with tales of woe. That is so not true. But you see, I am getting married next weekend and life is just a wee bit hectic at the moment. I have a to-do list several yards long and unfortunately, none of the items on it has anything to do with blogging,  or for that matter, anything fun at all.   So, I must take a brief timeout while I get this whole marriage thing together. Here are a few snippets of trip recap and two pictures to assure you that not only did I actually go, but that I had a grand 'ole time.

1. I did not purchase my wedding ring. Low point of the trip. But those darn Turks were having none of my amazing bargaining skills. One of them practically spit at the price I offered.
2. I did indeed find the Bosphorus Strait! It's kind of hard to miss while in Istanbul. However, there was no frolicking in it. As Lonely Planet guide puts it, unless one has a death wish, swimming in the Bosphorus is not advised.
3. Speaking of Lonely Planet, I have mixed emotions on traveling sans guidebook. Luckily, other people on the trip did, so it was more of a "baby steps" trip for me. There was one at my fingertips at any moment I so chose, but I did not have one of my own. Part of the trip, I felt as if I was wandering around in a fog, blindly following the lead of others. The other part was strangely exhilarating-I wasn't responsible! I didn't know a thing about anything, so therefore, I could not be responsible for mix-ups, wrong turns, and misinformation-of which all were in abundance on this trip. The logistics of traveling with 10 people is nothing short of a small nightmare. More on this later.
4.  The best day was the last day-took a drive out to the Black Sea. Simply gorgeous.

5. There are feral cats everywhere in Istanbul. I found this little guy in the public square outside of the Spice Bazaar.  He appears to really be enjoying his nap time.
6. I passed my Praxis exam. Nothing to do with Turkey, just super relieved and happy about it.

Must go get married now. More on everything later.

Part 2, Just a Freaking Cluster (Ode to JFK airport).

We got our boarding passes and looked around wildly for where to go. I asked a gentlemen who appeared to be working (leaning against a table) where Terminal 2 was, and he said if we would just wait five minutes while he used the restroom, he would take us there. Confident in my supreme abilities to navigate an airport and not wanting to waste another second, I politely declined his offer and we off we dashed. Into oblivion. You see, the person that designed that airport had to have just drawn a bunch of stick figures and buildings on  random pieces of paper, threw them all in the air, stomped on them, made a magic wish and then, with eyes closed, placed them into his blueprint.

We jumped on train that looked like as if was going somewhere important, such as a departure terminal. No such luck. In reality, we were headed out towards New York City, and I realized this at the last possible moment before it would have been too late. My traveling companion was not of much assistance, as this was her very first international trip, and only her second time flying. I was depending completely on myself and the kindness of strangers. We lunged off the train, and I asked the kindest looking person on the platform how to get to the Terminal 2. She pointed directly behind her, to the other side of the platform and told us to jump on there. Wonderful! It is now about 7:35, less than an hour until depature. We hop on, and wait what seems like an eternity until the train finally chugs into the stop we need. We get out. We see nothing even remotely "departure/lounge/check-in/security" like. Nothing. Perhaps if we head down the elevator. Oh but wait, there is a giant woman and her equally giant cat in a giant cat carrier blocking our way. Seriously??!! A giant cat?

Finally making it down the stairs, we find ourselves in no man's land, aka, a parking garage. This is where I start to feel myself crumble into a million little pieces. Back up the stairs, practically shrieking at yet another employee to find out where in all of God's creation is that blasted Terminal 2? She points to the direction from whence we came. no, No, NO! That was a parking garage! Back we go though, in hopes that a giant terminal will suddenly appear (perhaps to go along with the giant woman and her giant cat).  Of course we end up at the same spot in the same parking garage. Major meltdown is imminent. I am going to lose it right there on the asphalt. It was 7:47 and we were no closer to anything important, except large masses of parked cars. I literally had to give myself a peptalk/shakedown, ordering myself to GET IT TOGETHER!! We could not miss the flight and I was the only one that was going to get us to where needed to be....and I would be of no use to anyone if I was in a sad heap in the parking lot. Lo and behold, that same employee comes strolling out past the garage. Half-hysterical, I call out to her once again....beseeching her to tell me where in this forsaken place was TERMINAL 2??!!! She casually points over her shoulder to a large hangar-like building emblazoned with the words I so desperately was seeking. How was anybody supposed to find that? There were no signs leading or pointing the way, and one must arrive there by traipsing through a parking structure!! WHO DESIGNS THIS STUFF?? We dash for the Promised Land, run through the doors, gasp our way through the security (partly from panic, partly because it was 188 degrees inside, no AC). 7:57. Oh no. They want to take my snowglobe that I so lovingly packed into my checked luggage that became carry-on when all the Delta drama started happening. Blast. But another bright spot-the TSA officer let me keep it but took the box so that it would like she did her job. She then told me to just look really upset and/or angry when I left the screening area. No problem.

Finally, gate 27 is just a few steps away. We arrive, panting and sweating. There is some sort of medical emergency occurring in our waiting area, it is hot as Hades, and come to find out the next day, the would-be Times Square bomber was on the loose somewhere in the airport. Oh, and to cap everything off? Our flight is delayed one hour.

To finish this epic, (oh there is more, but I am over it) we arrive home safe and sound at 2 AM, only 5 hours after our intended arrival. It could have been worse. Enough of the airport drama, on with Turkey!!

Just a Freaking Kluster (The JFK Airport) Part 1.

I have returned from a fabulous vacation to Turkey, and it was wonderful and amazing, and glorious, and most importantly, wedding stress-FREE. But right now, what I really want to do is write about the complete inefficiency of John F. Kennedy International Airport and Delta airlines. Isn't that something? I just ventured to the only city that spans two continents, a magnificent blend of ancient and modern, and I want to sit here and rant about my return journey home. No worries, rant-free posts about the actual trip are in the works, but for now, the insanity of two nights ago is fresh on my mind. So I give you this.

It all started when our Delta Flight 73 was delayed 45 minutes due to a reason nobody could clearly define. "Technical issues" was all that was stated, the timeless offering of gate agents who have no idea. Our 12:15 departure was now scheduled for 1 PM. We did actually take off somewhat near this time, probably about 1:20. But with an 11 hour flight time, a  late arrival into New York would cut it extremely close for our 7 PM connection to DC.  In New York, we would still need to go through immigration, customs, and check back in for the next flight. However, there was nothing I could do about it, except sigh and sit back. Sure enough, due to plenty of turbulence and our late departure, we arrived in to JFK at 6 PM, and finally deboarded at 6:20. Suspicions confirmed. We would not be on our 7 PM flight to Dulles.

Clearing immigration and getting our bags actually took no time at all. This was the more pleasant part of the ensuing two hours. Once retrieving our things, we set out to find a Delta representative who could tell us what to do. This task proved to be fairly easy as well, considering that the line of passengers and their frustrations could be seen snaking around the ticketing area from afar. This monstrosity of a line was only exacerbated by the inconceivable reality that there was ONE gate agent dealing with rebooking half the passengers of a Boeing 747. ONE. My heart sank. Getting home that night was looking like a grim possibility and arriving at work on time the next day a lofty ideal. It was just the two of us, (the rest of the group went on to Greece-insert sad face here) and I had high hopes that it would be a breeze to rebook. Hopes were dashed after seeing that line, and dashed even further when after 10 minutes, we hadn't even moved. Even if there was a hope of getting on the next evening flight out, by the time we would actually get to front of the line, we might as well order breakfast. I took matters into my own hands and called Delta reservations while still in line. I was informed that we had already been rebooked on a 6 AM flight to DC......via Atlanta. Atlanta?? Um. No. I regretted to inform the agent that this would not be happening and that I would need a sooner flight, asap. All in my best sweet, yet desperately urgent tone of voice. She got the message and got us on an 8:30 landing at a different airport. Wonderful. It was 7:20. We would have just enough time. I hadn't reckoned on the evil labryinth of chaos and confusion though, also known as the JFK airport.

Away I Go

Armed with only the knowledge of the currency conversion (1.5 Lira to 1 US dollar) and the temperatures in Istanbul for the next 7 days (mid 60's and pleasantly sunny),  off I head into the wild blue yonder. I will admit that some momentary panic  was experienced last night as I contemplated that this was the extent of my knowledge of Turkey. Lonely Planet-less leaves me planless and that is one place that this girl does not like to be! This will be good for me though. Going to land where the wind takes me.  So! I've got my standard traveling shoes ("vintagey" Diesel, looking a little worse for wear), my passport, some lip gloss, a few US dollars, my ATM card and I am ready to rock. I have decided to throw complete caution to the wind and cram all of my necessities into one small carry-on, shunning the convenience of an actual suitcase or backpack. Livin' on the edge here folks. Hopefully I remember to actually bring it back with me.  We know from a previous and recent trip which shall remain nameless that this is a tall order. Back next week!