The Sedona Sunglasses Incident

I have a good man for a husband, and you will note this by the series of photos below. To give a little background, another honeymoon adventure was a side trip to  Slide Rock State Park, just outside of Sedona, Arizona. If you have never been there, this  area is famed for its red rocks, its vortexes, and its rough, but unique landscape.

Slide Rock is is a swim/walk/navigate at your own risk kind of park. There are LOTS of rocks, more rocks than water it seems. As a result, the terrain is slightly dangerous. Beautiful, but certainly not complying with any OSHA standards. Just getting down into the water proves to be an exercise in acrobatics and I feel that perhaps I may need a stunt double. Plus, I am wearing my brand new swimsuit which I am not about to ruin. Once in though, the water is so cool and refreshing and we elect to just sit in it and enjoy. Then we saw all these kids leaping into the water from a huge rock above and decide  to get a better view.

There is one point in our maneuvering around the rocks in the water that it becomes necessary to contort my body into a circus shape and attempt to squeeze around an extremely large boulder. Below is water and more rocks. The ledge to squeeze around is barely big enough for the width of one foot, especially one clad in a flip-flop. Which brings me to an important side point: Why in heaven's name can I not ever find more appropriate footwear for these perilous situations? First the Andes Mountains in Ecuador, then that monster hill in Istanbul, now this.  If we fall, we are going home with a nasty bruise, gash, head wound, or broken limb. Maybe all of the above. It is at this point that I decide to take off my sunglasses so that they do not fall of my head in all the maneuvering-because of course, sunglasses are priority in any dangerous ledge situation.  And it is at this point that I forget about them and leave them there.

After spending part of the afternoon watching small children and teenagers hurl themselves into the air, miraculously bobbing to the surface unscathed, it's time to go. It is only after we navigate the boulders, climb the steep bank, and cross the hot rocks, that I realize....I no longer have my sunglasses. I look at Adam. He looks at me. I don't even have to ask. He turns around to revisit the path from whence he came. I decided to make good use of  the wait  and document his journey.

The sunglasses, snug in their spot on the ledge

Creeper

At this point, he may be wondering how he got stuck with me

Success! But that means one handed rock-climbing

I was waiting for him to fall here

Or here

Contemplating the route back to his lovely wife

 Me, amusing myself with my shadow while I wait

 I wish I could say one of these girls was me. But nope.

Our Restaurant.com Experience. Epic Failure.

You may remember how pre-honeymoon I wrote about how I went all willy-nilly and ordered $100 worth of gift certificates to McFadden's off of the website before reading the fine print. Since I had already spent $8 on this endeavor, I was determined to make good on my investment and at least eat there once. Good news: the restaurant.com gift certificates are not scams. Bad news: our dinner was terrible.  As it turned out, we would have been better off never darkening the door of the establishment and going hungry instead.

Since the first night found us exhausted in bed at 9 p.m and sound asleep by 9:01 p.m, (after a romantic $ menu dinner at McDonald's), our only option left was to dine there our second night. Luckily for us, Bally's had a free shuttle that ran to Rio, the casino/hotel in which McFadden's was located. After an eternal wait, in which Adam and both fell into the red zone of hunger (this is the zone in which we should not look at or talk to each other until hunger is satisfied)  the shuttle finally arrived and we were on our way. We walked inside Rio to find lots of slot machines, poker tables, blackjack dealers, chain smokers, little old ladies, and no restaurant. We walked upstairs. We walked downstairs. We walked towards the back, we walked towards the front. Nothing. The red zone of hunger is rearing its ugly head. Just when we are about to give up and cross lanes of traffic and parking garages to get to the T.G.I Friday's we saw on the way in, we spy it. Apparently it's closed. Curses upon the Irish. But wait! It's not closed, there are just no customers inside. Bad, bad sign. We go in anyway, as we needed food right that instant.

Umm. Gross. 

I will spare you the tense dinner and most of the  gory details. Suffice to say, our food was only one notch above "we just found this in the garbage can and served it to you" variety. The picture does not do it justice. We started with the quesadilla which was an enormous glob of somewhat melted cheese ensconced between   decrepit flour tortillas. Hoping for better luck at dinner, Adam ordered shepherds pie (a McFadden's specialty)  and I had the chicken ceasar wrap with fries that were veritably scrubbed in garlic and oil. Disgusting and Disgusting"er."

And, to add insult to injury, we somehow STILL ended up paying over $25 for dinner! Which means that $50 was spent on half-heartedly melted cheese, tasteless shepherds pie,  and slimy chicken in a wrap. We got out of there in a hurry and attempted to erase all McFadden memories by heading back to the Strip and drowning ourselves in one of those giant fruity beverages that come up to my waist. It very nearly did the trick, along with the soothing calmness of the light and music show of the Bellagio fountains. One of the best moments of the trip, in general, and one of the best moments with Adam!  I only wish I had captured it on video, but I was too enthralled by it to remember that my camera actually had video function.

On an end note: I did contact the good folks at Restaurant.com and explained that I had made a bit of a mistake by ordering so many certificates. They were kind enough to offer to exchange them for another restaurant, so all is not lost. Kudos to them for being willing to look over my haste. Perhaps better luck next time. But I do know....that next time will not involve McFadden's at Rio in Vegas. Steer clear!

In front of the Bellagio with Adam and his purse

Little Bullet, Big Problem

Never ever in my travels, EVER,  have I ever encountered a TSA airport screening like the one in Las Vegas last week. And since it involved live ammunition, I hope never to do so again.

We were on the blasted 1 AM flight back to the East Coast. Note to self: never again. We arrived home feeling like death warmed over and then reheated again. I digress. Before we actually arrived home, we of course had to go through all the proper screenings at various airports and whatnot. In Vegas, we pick a line and begin to trudge through it. Our carry-on suitcases come through just fine, and we peer expectantly down the line for our backpacks. Nothing. In fact, nothing much at all is happening in our line, and there is a bunch of people just standing around. The screeners are very intently looking at their screen, the passengers waiting to go through the machine are intently looking at the screeners, and we are very intently looking for our luggage. At last, one of them arrives with Adam's bag in tow, and politely asks "Is this yours?" Indeed it is. He informs us that it will be over yonder and that we need to be there as well. Wonderful.

We put ourselves back together and head over to the nice TSA man who looks ready to do business. Opening the bag, he roots around a little and pulls out.........a rock. Adam had grabbed a rock from the Canyon. Whew, ok! Let's move on now.

Not so fast. The nice TSA man roots around a little more and pulls out the grand prize-None other than an unspent 9mm bullet. Ummm.....what does one say in such a situation? TSA man looks down the end of his nose at us and sternly, but still politely, wonders  aloud, "And is there a reason you are carrying a live bullet with you tonight?" Well, no actually, there is no reason at all that will suffice in this situation. And since we know we are not terrorists or have any motives other than just getting home, we both just start grinning. The situation is just so ludicrous, we couldn't help ourselves. Nice TSA man does not think anything is remotely funny and marches away with the bullet and the bag, telling us to have a seat. Good thing we are way early for this flight-mystery bullets usually mean a nice little delay.

We sit down and of course my first question to my newly betrothed is "oh dearest one, why do you have a bullet in your bag"? Simple explanation really. He has a few guns, he is a hunter, we just moved, he shoved a bunch of stuff in a bookbag (side note about my husband's packing/moving style-it's really quite heinous and involves lots of large black lawn and leaf bags) and somehow this little bullet never made it out-which says alot for TSA at Reagan airport in DC where the mystery bullet went undetected. Anyway, we sit there a bit and ponder our future. I do this rather dramatically as I consider a life on the no-fly list, a stint behind bars, or at the very minimum, a late arrival home. Adam doesn't seem to be concerned in the least.

As it turns out, apparently bullets are a not-so-rare occurrence. The lady that resolved our issue told us so matter-of-factly, and that there had been another one just night before. She also indicated very strongly that we should leave the bullet with her and we were happy to oblige. Taking his phone number, she told us that TSA may come calling.

So that is the story of the bullet. One for our children, one for this blog, and one that prior to a honeymoon with my husband, I never thought I would tell. Anybody care to share any similar airport security moments?

On How the Honeymoon and/or the Marriage almost got cut short

In the last few posts, I have mentioned how frugal I am and how I really like to find a deal and save a buck. Read: cheap. Anyway, this trait of mine nearly landed us in a fine mess  just yesterday traveling Arizona Highway 180 from the Grand Canyon to Flagstaff. In short, we needed gas. We left at 4:45 AM to make it to the Canyon for sunrise, well before the "cheaper" gas station closest to us was open. The next gas station a block away was selling gas at FIFTY WHOLE CENTS MORE!!!  Of course. We only got $20 worth and went on our merry way.  After a few hours enjoying the views of this world wonder, we headed out of the park. More on the Canyon later, let's just get to how the happiness nearly ended here. The conversation went a little something like this:

Him: We need gas, should we get it here?
Me: No, it's way too expensive. Oh, and let's take this shortcut instead of what the GPS is telling us.

Seven miles later down the shortcut road which so far, is all clouds, sky, and road. Absolutely nothing else.

Him: What if there isn't any place to get gas on this road?
Me: Um......what if there isn't? (A quick check with GPS had confirmed that there was indeed nothing between us and our destination, nearly 50 miles away. Oh dear. )

Five minutes later:
 Him: The gas light just went on.
Me:
(No response from me here. Just mortified silence. Feverish prayers begin).

Twenty minutes later:
Him: The needle is almost  below "E."  Check on GPS and see where the closest gas station is!!
Me: I already did. It's back on the other road we just came from! 
Him:
(No response from him here. Just tense silence.)

About 30 miles to go. 

And so this is how our ride went. Tense silence marked by frequent glances at the GPS to assess our progress. During this time I avoided looking at and speaking with my beloved husband, preferring instead to imagine the worst while looking out the window at....nothing. Not even a house around. In fact, we were in the Coconino National Forest. No gas stations there. Siiiigh.  Running out of gas would definitely ruin our day, cut into the budget, and certainly put a damper on our fledgling marriage. Prayers heavenward were accelerated, even invoking the Jesus turning water into wine story. Only we really just needed waning fuel to turn into.......more fuel. But you get the idea.


Him: The needle is below"E" now.
Me:
(Pretending not to hear. Accelerated efforts at prayer).

Twenty miles to go, and I feel as if there may be a light at the end of the tunnel. Twenty miles from civilization isn't all that far if we run out, right? At ten miles, I started to breathe, but only a little. Five miles found me wanting to sing the Hallelujah Chorus. The tension in the jeep though, prevented me from doing so.  At three miles, I knew we had made it. And the sight of the Sunoco just ahead? Priceless. I could have kissed the man working there.

Him: I don't know how we made it this far.
Me: I do. ;)

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.