Bandwagon Jumper

I've been away from the computer for a few days due to holiday cheer and all that stuff. Those of you who know me know that I'm a pretty big Scrooge around this time of year-some may even call me miserable. They wouldn't be too far off the mark, actually.

In the last week or two, I have been pondering my next post. Sometimes it can be difficult to come up with something if I am not currently on a trip, or have just completed one. As I logged on today and saw many of my fellow bloggers posts dedicated to retrospect of the year 2010, I decided not to beat them, but to join them and jump on the retrospect bandwagon. 
So here goes:

At this time last year, I was even more of a hateful Scrooge than normal. I had just come back from Tanzania, and with no trips planned, no permanent teaching job prospects, and the knowledge that my money would soon not just be mine to spend willy-nilly on overseas adventures, well, misery was my BFF.

Whew! Don't stop reading. It really does end up much happier.

 Then wedding planning really kicked into high gear, causing me to question nearly everything in life. Who I was, who he was, what on earth we were doing, and why on earth we were doing it? But then two trips popped up to restore my sanity and my faith in pushing through--The all girls bachelorette trip to Austin, Texas, and the "Of course it's a good idea to go overseas 30 days before my wedding" trip to Turkey. 

May 29th came around shortly thereafter and truly, everything did go as planned. It was a happy day-no last minute disasters, fights, or general chaotic moments. And then it was over, just like a raindrop's brief journey from the skies above. All that planning, a big splash, and then nothing left but to clean up the puddles.

We had to thank everyone, find a place to live, plan the honeymoon, go on the honeymoon, combine finances, hope I got a job, move, and work out the kinks of living together all at once. I am exhausted just reading that sentence, and I already lived it.

Everything fell into place (as things usually do) and now 7 months of marriage (tomorrow!) later we are amazed how time is speeding by us. Which brings me to Christmas. For the first time ever, we were able  to spend the day together. As per family tradition, I am always in Ohio to celebrate.  Conincidentally, this year, I did not encounter but a few shreds of my old Scrooge self. I looked and looked, but I didn't find her. A sap I certainly am not, but I can only attribute it to my wonderful husband and the life we are living together. Yep, there have been some tough moments/weeks/months, but we are learning volumes about life and each other, knowledge that can and has only increased our commitment to one another. Christmas wasn't so, so..... Scroogey with him around this year, and for that, I am grateful.

So there ya have it-a mini review of 2010. Somewhere in there I reached 50 blog posts, started writing for a local magazine, and got a full-time job as a teacher. I love it and that is the truth.

What's next? Well, just got my latest copy of Blue. Spain comes up in just about 7 weeks. Although I won't be going anywhere at all if I don't get the name in my passport changed. Just called the Department of State today and if I get it in the mail TOMORROW, I might have a chance of actually boarding the plane.

Clearly, Scrooge may be gone, but the procrastinator is still very much alive and well.

Up next: I really must change the description of this blog (the paragraph at the top). I have been pushing that off as well. Anyone want to write it for me?!!

I'm a Virgin....."Euro"peanly Speaking

As you already know from my last post, I am headed to Spain for a mini-vacation in a few months. What you don't know is this will be my first foray in the world of the euro.

I hate the euro.

Why?

Two reasons-wait, actually three.

1. At Amsterdam's Schiphol airport last year, I developed a serious need for a McDonald's Filet-o-Fish sandwich. I was on a layover from Tanzania and I had been eating goat and rice for two weeks. However tasty those items may be, I really just wanted tons of tartar sauce slathered atop a hot bun. Total cost of my sandwich, companion's sandwich, bottled water and fries to share? $27 US DOLLARS!! Yeah, I am still pretty miffed about it a year later. WHO SPENDS $27 AT McDONALDS?? Since I am already veeeery frugal by nature, this was an outrageous injustice. I wanted to choke the employee and any other nearby Europeans, but I refrained.

2.  I was at a hostel in Beijing when I overheard a conversation between two Europeans (speaking English) in the next room.  Actually, it was more squealing and shrieking than conversing. They were fairly giddy over the exchange rate of the yuan to the euro. Phrases like "This was nearly free!" and "This would cost 3x as much at home!" were bandied about and right then and there I knew I was not cut out for Euro spending countries. Granted, I bought my fair share of knock-offs and other important Chinese souvenirs, but the buying process was never without haggling and walking away. On repeat. These girls simply smirked at me when I casually injected myself into their conversation to ask if they had bargained the prices down at all. I took that as a
" Why would we need to do that when we have practically stolen these items to begin with?"

Which brings me to my final reason of hating the Euro.

3.  This currency has been the single most preventive reason I have not seen any of the things I dream to see-the Colisseum, a Greek island (any which one will do) the fjords of Norway, the Portuguese coast, or the concentration camps in Germany (is that weird? I will say no since I am a social studies teacher).  I can't afford Europe! I was in the Czech Rpublic before it was on the euro and Istanbul last May, while partially in Europe, is still lovingly spending the lira.


 I guess I've only been to first base in Europe.

My New Travel BFF is Not Actually a Person

So I have hit the mid-winter blues. It's not even December. There is one cure, and only one, for such an ailment.

Book a trip somewhere! Anywhere! Who cares!

In an effort to stave off certain mood swings brought on by winter and no trips in sight, I have done the right thing for myself and mankind. I am going to Spain. I mean, this is definitely an altruistic move on my part. Definitely. Just looking out for the welfare of others.

But anyway, on with the announcement of my New Travel BFF. It's a handy dandy little feature on kayak.com which allows you to specify your home city and then with one click of a button, a map of the world pops up and you can see airfares to tons of destinations all over the world. I am practically giddy just writing about it.

I first heard about it from the Birthday Boy (the one was responsible for the Turkey Trip. Which, incidentally, I left readers hanging after just writing Part 1 of the birthday story). I guess he felt bitten by the bug after Turkey, and was somewhat miserable, wanting to be anywhere but here. Birthday Boy stumbled across this amazing feature, and next thing I knew, he was jetting off to Italy for Thanksgiving.

Wait a minute here! I AM THE ONE WHO IS SUPPOSED TO BE ALL TRAVEL SAVVY AND KNOWS ALL THE TRADE SECRETS. Hmmmpfff.

I got over my angst rather quickly and set off to find my own travel deal. Realizing that a mere $372 from Washington D.C would get me to Madrid round trip, I pounced. No seriously, there was some pouncing. They call me Jungle Cat for short. (not really).

February it is. Madrid I shall see. And  hopefully Barcelona? Headed off with a friend and any others who care to join!

A Year Ago Today..........

..........I was frantically turning in the last of my schoolwork, adding unecessary last-minute items to my pack, sniffling over two weeks without Adam, pondering the stolen money, and finally, jamming on my shoes and comfy travel outfit in flash to hustle to Dulles Airport. Tanzania...here I come!

Well, there I went. What a blast that trip was, and a certain dream come true. I have been pondering my life in retrospect. And just so coincidentally in 8th grade this week, we are studying the early explorers of West Virginia. Perhaps not the most exciting stuff.

Or is it?

As I am lecturing this week and the kids are diligently taking notes, I realize--- these guys (and maybe a few gals) embody the very essence and spirit of travel. They were all about the adventure, the exploration, the unknown, and the excitement of a new place. Just like me!! It dawned on me after the first day of lecture-what a way to get the kids interested in what could potentially be a very dull subject. (Hey, I can't lie to you folks. I may teach it, but I don't have to love it!)

Long story short, I have just assigned them their second of four major projects this year. They are writing a journal from the perspective of one of the early explorers, with all the sordid details of mutinies, hangings, exultations, newly claimed land, and  formed alliances. Where do you think I got such an idea? Why, this blog of course! And along the way, we have discussed what it takes to travel, what kind of person just sets off into the unknown, and more importantly, what kind of traveler they think they would be, given the chance. Trust me, I am doing my part to encourage love of our globe, one WV 8th grade student at a time. To jumpstart their forming brains, I printed a post I wrote prior to Tanzania, removed some identifying details, and asked them to read and describe the traveler's attitude. They described me to a "T" and then I told them I was the author. I love a good surprise, and gauging from their reactions, it went over pretty well. I am currently awaiting their two paragraph essay entitled "What Type of Traveler Am I?" If I inspire just one kid, I have done my job.

Speaking of travel...........I have got something in the works and while I am not ready to share the details yet, it would be another dream come true! Hint: summer on a teacher's workschedule=GO GO GO!

Murphy's Law (of Travel)

Murphy's Law states that anything that can possibly go wrong, does. 

Somewhere out in Bloggerville, someone else has written a similar post, I am sure. But I would like to maintain that Murphy has his own category of laws made expressly for travelers. And each traveler is subjected to his or her own personal travel demon. You know, those things that always seem to happen to you and you alone. Never, ever, anyone else. For example, you might be that traveler who, no matter which line you choose, whether it's at the airport or the border, you will wait twice as long as the person in the same spot as you, two lines over. There is no rhyme or reason to it either-sometimes it's the passenger with the monstrous amount of baggage, or the passenger who apparently thought they could pass smoothly from one border to the other with proper documentation. It doesn't matter-it will happen on whatever day you are taking your journey.

My own personal is....drum roll rhythm please....Murphy's Law of Connecting Flights.  This states in the event of a connecting flight, the first flight will be late in order to ensure that  I can and will be forced to either rebook and/or languish in a transit lounge. Or, I will create a sheer spectacle of myself as I sprint through the airport to find the gate from which the next connecting flight is departing. In that case, this gate will always be, at minimum, two terminals away and boarding will already have begun.  My history speaks for itself-from the debaucle at JFK a few months ago to the time I was forced to spend a night in an hourly establishment (shudder) while trapped in Singapore transit hell.

Case in point: Last weekend, I traipsed off to Florida to for some fun in the sun and female bonding with a best friend from college.  From DC, I had a connection in Charlotte and as per my usual routine, my flight arrived late. The next flight was supposed to be boarding and we were still taxiing. To compound matters, my carry-on had to be tagged on the jetway (along with most of the other passenger's) and stowed underneath. So there would be no frantic sprint out of the plane to my connection. Instead, I would wait, along with the masses, for the grandmotherly gate agent to be handed the bags from the tarmac and  place them  two at a time on the jetway. Mine was dead last. Of course. Upon sighting it, I snatched it as if it was a long-lost child and began my dash. Except I am not exactly in shape for sprinting and neither were my sequined slip-ons purchased on a whim while in Thailand. Cute? Yes. Functional? Not so much. I was winded within 20 seconds and considering my options when I spied the man driving the little golf-cart apparatus. I usually scoff at the notion of being transported to a gate, and poke fun of the passengers who have caught a ride. On this day though, I realized I was going to have to choose between my pride, and getting to Tampa on time. He already had a few passengers and was moving along at pretty good clip, but I seized the window of opportunity as he was whizzing by me to politely ask beseech him to take me wherever he was going.  He stopped and in a flash, I was on the cart and whirling through three different terminals before arriving at my gate. THREE. There is no way I would have made it in my sequined slip-ons doing the Olympic dash.


Unceremoniously, I lunge off the car and panic-stricken, confirm with the nearest passenger that the plane was indeed headed to Tampa. And, as it turned out, the flight was slighly delayed for some unknown reason and boarding had only just begun. All that drama, panic, and cursing of Murphy/my luck/the airlines for virtually nothing.


Of course.


What seems to always happen to you when you travel?


Enjoy a few pictures of the sunny weekend. As you can see, the eventful 10 minutes in Charlotte was the only stressor of the weekend!

50 is the new 100, and ThankYOU, dear Reader!

Yes, I know I just turned 30. But this is so much more monumental. This is my 50th blog post! Waaaaaay back at #1 (click here) , #50 seemed a dream. I know some bloggers like to celebrate at 100, but I am quite content with 50. Here is the long of the short:

It all began over a grumpy summer. As a substitute teacher, summers often turned grumpy and dismal. Why?

No steady cash flow=alot of angst.

My friend Karl had quite enough one day of my aforementioned grumpiness and said I need to stop talking and start writing. I pondered. I decided I had nothing better to do, so I put fingers to keyboard and blog post #1 was born.

49 posts later, I am happily plugging along. You know what I discovered? I like to write and even more, I like the feeling of productivity I have while writing and the sense of accomplishment after.  It's like I just cleaned the house or something. Only the house is not nearly as clean as it would be if I actually cleaned it.

Along the way I have developed a writing style, preserved some stories for posterity, ranted a little, and ultimately, have realized how blessed I am to have stepped foot outside of my world and experienced a taste of life as the rest of the world lives it.

But here is the real focal point of this post..YOU! Would I still write this blog without people reading and commenting? Hmmm.....probably. I like writing too much now to stop. But would it be nearly as interesting? Fun? Engaging? Nope. I like to read your comments, your reactions to my story/thought process. I feel like I have a few friends in random places around the world now, except I just haven't met them. So without further ado, and in no particular order, I would like to give a few props to a few people who have read my stuff, commented, or whose stuff I read regularly. Without you all, I would just be, well......writing a blog and then reading it. Alone.

First up is Reese over at Rambles with Reese. She is living in Italy and her honest insights and variety of postings keep plenty of readers coming back.

Then we have Mary (who just started a cooler version of her old blog :) over at World Curious Traveler. She has got plenty of experience to draw from, ranging from Peace Corps in Namibia to life in Japan, where she currently calls home.

Candice of Candice Does the World just makes me laugh. Really, don't waste time. Just go there and see for yourself.

Sabina is a Solo Female Traveler who writes some pretty darn good (true) stories. I particularly enjoyed her 3 part tale of the Jerusalem jeweler.

Then there is  Emily at Maiden Voyage, who is always finding cool travel contests to enter and is nice enough to share them with us! She is getting married soon, so be nice to her.

Ayngelina at the quirkily named ( in a good way) Bacon is Magic is currently traipsing about Central and South America, firing off short and sweet posts AND pics on everything from delicious vegetarian food, to some amazing salsa dancing she recently encountered in Columbia. Good stuff.

And to my awesome group of  friends and family members who faithfully follow and read...Thanks!

Now, although the above are in no random order, I do need to reserve two special spots for two special readers. Gayle has known me since I was an angst-ridden teenager, who was sure her life was the worst EVER. Gayle has been a faithful reader and encourager and I am so grateful to have her in my life.

Last but not least, there is Adam, also referred to sporadically as "husband." He also reads faithfully and although he doesn't comment, retains the information for future use. For example, I balked at traipsing through the woods with him the other day to find his tree stand (he is a hunter). I used the age old excuse-"But I don't have proper shoes on!" He was pretty quick with the comeback--- "Whatever," he scoffed. "You can traipse around South American mountains in flip-flops, so I think you can handle the woods."

Touche.

Tale of the Timeshare

I was inspired to write this post by Ryan over at Here There Be Dragons, mostly because I find him funny. Plus, it brought back my own recent little timeshare tale, at which I am still shaking my head.

So we were at this "totally bitchin' BBQ festival duuuude" (not my phrasing, but an exact quote from a local who told us about it) when we unwittingly asked one of the non-BBQ vendors there if she could tell us the time.  Mistake #1.

She told us, then asked if we had ever been to Sedona. I happily told her that we were planning on going the very next day, and that we were on our honeymoon. Mistake #2.

At this point, she begins telling us all about this fabulous Jeep tour we could take around the red rocks and the Mogollon rim if we signed up to tour a property. Still unaware of what she was getting at, we politely told her we had already blown the budget with a helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon and that it was out of the question. It was then that she uttered the magic word (free) and said all we had to do was tour a property and listen to a presentation. No further obligation, and it would only take 90 minutes of our time.

Sucker. Me, that is.

Prior to even heading out west, we had been warned of the timeshare trap in Vegas. Inwardly, I scoffed at such a notion. I don't get suckered into anything, and besides, timeshares are for octogenarians. And if per chance, we did encounter a timeshare tout, I am very good at saying no and walking right on past.
Well, let me tell you that we had not been in Vegas FIVE minutes, (five!) before we found ourselves pensively listening and nodding to a seemingly nice man who wanted us to sign up for the 1 PM presentation of a nice property 10 minutes outside of the city.  In return for our time, we could have a Vegas show of our choice. At this point, I realized that all of my derision had been in vain....I had already been fooled.

Sucker. Me, again.

We walked away, telling him we would think about it. Yeah  right. So what happened between Vegas and Sedona, where I nearly offered my right arm to be able to partake?  I don't know. What I do know is that I really wanted to ride in a Jeep out by some nice red rocks.

So we get there, and the resort is crawling with other people who have been similarly suckered. After a brief tour of the place, we all get down to business. That is, they get down to the business of selling us something, and we get down to the business of feigning interest and masking our boredom, while still attempting to be polite, visions of a wild Jeep ride dancing in our heads. This is actually a difficult balance to maintain. Try it sometime.

After the spiel was over, we are left on our own to "think it over." No thinking necessary. Here is what we were offered: For the bargain start up price of $9,000 dollars, we would have 80,000 points to use on lodging in a destination of our choice. I cannot even begin to describe all the details associated with how to use the points. My eyes glazed over and my jaw dropped at the mentioned of the words "nine" and "thousand" in the same sentence. I was fully expecting it would be thousands, but I thought two or three at the maximum! All of the trips I have taken, near and far,  in the last 10 years may have equaled 9 grand. Here, they want 9 grand before I have even packed a bag and stepped out of my front door. Seriously?  Surely this arrangement is for the very rich, very old, or the very naive. I am none of those (barring my recent birthday), and so I did not feel that we qualified and I nicely told them so.

"No" is not a word in their vocabulary. At the first hint of "no" our representative brought over one of her buddies to throw in some extras to sweeten the deal. I am not even sure what they were, because I wasn't hearing anything but the words "nine" and "thousand." I thought we had all agreed that we would not be purchasing a timeshare that day, when I realized that WE had not all agreed. Well, Adam and I were certainly united in our decision, but the timeshare people did not appreciate our husband and wife togetherness.

The rep, a big fan of timeshares herself, kept regaling us with stories of freshly caught shrimp and fish on their luxury Hawaiian vacation, caught near an exotic waterfall, and directly consumed for dinner. She acted as if this opportunity would never present itself by any other method, unless and until we purchased the timeshare straightway. The bargain price of course did not include any transportation expenses incurred getting to said exotic location. And we would still need to pay $187 for the week of lodging. And still need to pay for food and any activities. HOW IS THIS A GOOD IDEA???

While all of this is going on, cheers erupted from the other side of the room, and champagne bottles were popping.  Some people had apparently just sold their souls to timeshare purgatory purchased a timeshare. Might I point out they that were well into their golden years? Adam and I exchanged knowing looks.

Finally, as a last resort, they brought over someone from corporate. We stood our ground, informing them that adding another monthly payment to our life was simply not going to happen and we thanked them for their time. I guess they finally believed us, because 20 seconds later, we were in the prize department, collecting our voucher for the wild Jeep ride around the Sedona red rocks. Which, I will just go ahead and tell you know was the worst tour we have ever taken, and if we had actually paid for it, would have been left scratching our heads wondering what in the world just happened. The pictures I have attached are what I snapped just  driving around Sedona, happy in the breeze of our top-down Jeep, and free of persistent salespeople.

Does anyone have any further insight on timeshares? Am I missing something?