July 4th- Part I

I love France. It is by far one of my favorite countries in the world. So much so, that it is my grand plan to one day buy a house and retire somewhere in the countryside. There is something about it- the food, the people, the language- that brings me to my knees. I am what people call a Francophile, someone who loves everything French!

This 4^th of July weekend will be the second in a row that I spend in France. Last year, I lived a dream of my own buy driving through the Loire Valley. A close family friend of ours, Karine, owns some property in a small village called Ponçay, about three hours south of Paris. She and her daughter were to be in France for the summer and invited me to spend the weekend with them.

It is roughly an eight hour drive from my home in Wiesbaden, Germany to Ponçay and the drive would take me through the Loire Valley. For those of you who do not know about the Loire, or the Valley of the Kings, it is an valley  spanning around 280 km that is full of some of the most beautiful  châteaux in the world. When the French Kings began to built castles in the Valley to escape from life in Paris, many of the nobility began to build as well, so they wouldn’t be far from the King.

I wanted to get an early start of Friday morning so I could see as many castles as I could before meeting up with Karine, so I decided to drive five hours to Chartres. I had recently purchased a brand new BMW X3, my deployment gift to myself, and decided that I would save some money by sleeping in my car that evening. I arrived in Chartres at around 10pm, and found an underground garage where I settled in for the night.  It was a miserable night’s sleep. I am a giant, and could not stretch out to save my life, even in an SUV! I was able to get a few hours of sleep, and awoke the next morning ready to start my day.

Chartre Cathedral

 







I had purchased a book call “Back Roads of France” from Eyewitness Travel, which plans driving routes through France.  I used this as my guide to decide which châteaux would be on my list. I only had one day (the book suggests four), so I had to limit my tour to only a handful. I began with a tour of Montrésor, a tiny picturesque village with a small castle built in 1005 and restyled in around 1500. I was the first person of the day to arrive, and so had the entire castle to myself.

Village of  Montrésor

 

I left Montrésor and continued on to the town of Amboise. This particular castle had a very interesting history. In my back roads book I read that “in 1516, King François I enticed Leonardo da Vinci to France and gave him the nearby Clos Lucé manor house, where the artist died in 1519.” There is a small memorial built for the painter on the grounds of Amboise.

 

 

Bust of Leonardo de Vinci

What I loved the most about driving through the Loire, was the history. Every château had its own story, making every place I visited a history lesson that connected like a spider’s web. Some châteaux I had seen pictures of previously, and others I discovered along the way. One that I was determined to see was the château of Chenonceaux.

I learned a lot during my tour here about two very prominent women during the reign of King Henri II.  Chenonceau was a gift to Diane de Poitiers (1499-1566) as a gift from Henri II.  According to my back roads book “Diane de Poitiers was one of the most influential figures at the court of Henri II. Twenty years older than Henri, she was appointed to teach the young prince manners, but later became the kings mistress. He adored her, and as king even consulted her on official business.  Chenonceau was given to her as a personal residence. This was predictably resented by his Italian queen Catherine de Medicis (15-19-1589), and when Henri was killed while jousting, she wasted no time in seizing Chenonceau for herself and expelling Diane to Chamont.”

 

Intrigued by this tidbit of history, I decided to visit Chamont next. It is a beautiful castle overlooking the Loire river, and every summer there is a garden exhibition where different designers come and decorate a piece of the garden under the theme of the year.

 

 View of Chamont from across the river

Along the route between châteaux, there are charming little villages with their own piece of history. In one such village, which I believe to be Orbigny, there was a monument that I stopped to look at. It was originally dedicated to the fallen Soldiers from the area during WWI. Since, names have been added for WWII and Algiers.

 

 

My next stop was Cheverny, which is the only château that still has a family in residence.

 

 

The last castle I visited was Chambord, built by King Francis I, a King that I have studied in detail due to his reign being at the same time as King Henry VIII.  It is the largest château that I saw, with jaw dropping architecture.  All though a little cold and bare on the inside, the double spiral staircases believed to have been designed by Leonardo de Vinci are not to be missed.

Taken from the roof

I would be meeting Karine on Saturday morning in Blois, so that is where I decided to rest my head. I found a little hotel right on the river which had a spare room at only 20 euro for the night.

 View of the city from my hotel

 

I met with Karine and her daughter the next morning, and followed them to Ponçay. When we pulled into the driveway, I almost fainted. Her home was incredible. It was located, quite frankly, in the middle of nowhere surrounded by wheat fields and rolling hills. To the leftof the driveway was a a plot of land where she had a mule and a donkey. To the right was her home, a former monestary from the 16th Century that she had transformed into a beautiful estate. There were three seperate houses, along with what was the former stables and the ruins from the chapel that dated back to 1117. The courtyart was grass, with a small fountain filled with koi at the center. The main house was at the back of the courtyard, next to the church ruins. To the right was a small cottage that was used as a guest house as well as Karine’s art studio, and the place that I would be staying for the weekend. To the left was were the stables which had yet to be renovated, but which housed antiques and art sculptures created by Karine’s late uncle. Next to the stables, attached to the garage was another small cottage.

 

Behind the main house was a beautiful garden and swimming pool. Karine, along with being a gifted artist, was a talented gardener and the entire estate was surround by rose bushes. It was one of the most relaxing weekends of my life. I spent it lounging by the pool, trimming the rose bushes, taking daily trips to the local markets, and painting. I am not an artist, and had never painted before that weekend. The calming effect that it had on me inspired me, and I have been painting regularly ever since. I even painted a map of the world on a canvas 3ft tall, and 4ft long that I have hanging over my bed. This weekend sealed my love of France, and created the idea of my dream home for the future.

And so with great excitement, I have begun the planning for my upcoming trip to the South of France!

Istanbul, Turkey

I have decided that crossing things off my bucket list is my new favorite hobby. One of the perks about living in Germany is the ability to travel, which we as Soldiers are able to do since we are given one four day weekend a month. Since everything in Europe is relatively close, it is easy to hop in your car, catch a train, or book a flight in order to explore a new country. I will also note that it is remarkable that I have now not only crossed of four items off my bucket list, but I have done so twice with my dear friend Sidney.

I believe one of the greatest things about traveling is going outside your comfort zone. As much as I love Europe and everything it has to offer since I am a European history nerd, there is nothing like stepping into a world that is completely unfamiliar to you. Asia was like this, with beetles and dog meat served at street vendors, the difference in customs and way of life of the people- from poverty in Cambodia to business men in Japan- traveling through Asia was like traveling on another planet. And so was Turkey.

I have seen Muslim countries before- Afghanistan, Kuwait- but it is different when you are cooped up on a compound rather than walking the streets. My first real experience was in 2010 when I travelled alone to Marrakech, Morocco.  First I will start by saying that I would NOT recommend going there alone if you are a single woman. As in Turkey, the men were overly aggressive to the point that I decided to refrain from going out at night alone after a group of five men surrounded me in the Grand Bazaar. Luckily, I met a group of American women and 2 British women that were staying at my hotel and ended up traveling around with them. But aside from that, Morocco was wonderful. I decided that one day would be allotted to exploring the Atlas Mountains, and I signed up for a private tour. My guide, a young man by the name of Muhammad, was amazing. He was from a Berber family, and as we approached the end of my scheduled three hour tour, he asked if I would like to go home with him and meet his family.

Before you say anything, I will admit that this is not necessarily the wisest decision I have ever made. Going off with a total stranger to a secluded local two hours outside of the city with no phone, and no one knowing where I was could have turned into a disaster, but luckily I am alive and well and here to tell the story. So, of course I said yes and we began our drive into the Moroccan countryside. When we arrived at his home, a rather large home for a Berber family, his mother was working hard in the kitchen cooking the chicken she had caught and slaughtered for my visit. Her hennaed hands were working swiftly, baking bread, making a stew, and boiling water for the typical sweet mint tea that would be served with our lunch. I was given a tour of the grounds, including the barn where the chicken and goats were kept.

Muhammad's home

From there we moved into the living room where I sat on pillows thrown over the earth-built benches that lined the walls, while a small TV broadcasted a soccer game. Muhammad’s little brother sat next to me with his old Nokia phone, showing me kung-fu videos and explaining that he would one day travel to China to learn the art. When the food was ready, Muhammad’s father came and joined us in the living room. I was given the heart of the chicken which is considered an honor in Berber tradition, and popped it into my mouth with gusto. However I was not prepared for the actual taste and it took all my energy to not only NOT spit it out, but to not throw up by its foul flavor. I smiled, thanked them and shoved a huge piece of flat bread into my mouth to hide the taste of heart. We spent the next hour talking (Muhammad was the translator), eating, and discussing that if I was to marry Muhammad I would have to move in with the family.

As the sun was setting, we drove back into Marrakech to the noise of a man reciting the call to prayer from the speakers atop the Koutoubia Mosque.

It is strange, being Jewish, that I am so moved by the call to prayer. As Sydney, Jess (my other friend who was traveling with us) and I arrived at our hotel in Sultanahmet, the afternoon call to prayer was blaring through the speakers atop the minarets of the Blue Mosque which was visible from our hotel terrace. As our taxi pulled up and the mosque became visible, I had the same feeling as I had the first time I saw the Duomo in Florence; Jaw-dropping awe and at a loss for words. It was incredible, magnificent, and life changing. Although the Ayasofya is the main attraction (a former Greek Orthodox Church that began construction in 537 A.D and later turned into an Imperial Mosque in 1453 by Sultan Mehmed II after Constantinople was conquered by the Ottoman Turks) with a far more grand and beautiful interior, the Blue Mosque is what had the largest effect on me. I felt small and powerless standing in its shadow as the afternoon sun bounced off the blue dome. When we actually stepped inside the mosque after putting on long skirts to cover our bare legs and beautiful silk scarves to cover our hair, I felt like I had travelled through time to a world of G-d and prayer. My senses were woken to the smell of must, the feeling of the thick carpets under my bare feet, the sound of people buzzing around like me like bees on honeycomb, and the eye catching mosaics that decorated the ceiling.

 

Blue Mosque

 



The minute you step back outside onto the streets of Istanbul, you are brought immediately back to the present. Men selling boats tours, city tours, roasted chestnuts, corn on the cob and sticky Turkish ice cream. Everywhere you turn you see the clash of civilization- women in full Burkes standing next to girls in tank tops and hot pants.

 

As I mentioned before, the men were overly aggressive in Turkey. Between my tattoos, and the fact the Jess is built like an ox from constant CrossFit and football (she played professional football in the US), we couldn’t walk two feet without someone making a comment. Whether it be “can I see your tattoo?” to “Oh, Rambo! You strong woman,” we were constantly accosted by the sound of jeering men. However, this did not stop us from accepting some hospitality from a few chosen. From sheesha and dancing, to Turkish ice cream or coffee, we found ourselves being shown the beauty of Istanbul by some of the locals.

Me dressed in the way of the Old World

Our first evening was spent with our waiter and his friends, after an amazing dinner of salted lamb with cinnamon rice. We followed them to a little sheesha bar where we smoked rose tobacco, drank raki (Sydney’s new favorite liquor) and danced to “Baby got back,” a song that I frequently request while intoxicated.

Our next encounter was outside the Blue Mosque where a friendly Turkish man calmly explained how I would need to cover my legs before entering one of the more holy sites of the city. He waited for us outside the Blue Mosque until our tour was finished, then took us to a small restaurant where we sat on cushions in the bright sunlight, eating ice cream and learning about Turkish history from his friend Mohammed.

Most of the time, when a man treated us to something, there was always something wanted in return. Although the requests were always an innocent invitation to take us clubbing that evening (which we never accepted), it was only on one occasion that a man gave us something without ever asking anything in return.

While shopping at a little market near our hotel, we were invited into a pottery shop run by a man in his mid to late twenties. For no reason he decided that he would let each of us pick out something from his shop. When asked what he wanted in return, he smiled and said “Nothing. Only that you remember me.”

I find that in life, when you least expect it, people will surprise you. When my faith in humanity is high, someone will do something that will make me so angry that I curse mankind. On the other hand, when my faith is low, someone will do something to lift my spirits back up and remind me of the good in people. This was one of those days. I had received an email earlier that morning that made me so angry, I wanted to kick a wall. So when this young man allowed me to take a hot plate away with nothing but a promise of remembrance, I came close to tears by this act of kindness.

And so my trip to Istanbul was a memorable one; full of beauty, good food, friendship, and a renewed belief in the goodness of people.



Lessons learned from my recent trip to Málaga

1.       When flying with Ryan air, be sure to print your boarding pass prior to your arrival at the airport. If you are like my friend Lea and you forget, you will pay a 70€ fine for them to print it for you.

2.       Never attach your camera to your wrist with a hair band while riding on a banana boat. You WILL lose your camera.

3.       If you decide to have a relaxing massage on the beach, be sure to thoroughly rinse off all excess oil from your body if you plan on sun bathing.  Disregard this warning if you want to look like a crispy piece of bacon.

4.       Avoid going on tours with large groups. You will have no freedom to explore, and will end up spending the majority of your tour on a bus.

5.       Never slowly massage a sea cucumber while diving, unless you are prepared for what will happen. Make sure you take a pregnancy test once you return from your vacation.

6.       Never attempt to eat a plum, or any food for that matter, while visiting the monkey’s on the rock of Gibraltar.  They are assholes and will attack you.

7.       Last but not least, be sure to check your return flight and not assume you know the take off time. You never want to find yourself with an hour and a half drive to the airport with an hour and a half until your flight departs. If, for some reason you find yourself in this situation, be sure to choose the most aggressive driver in your group (Lea), hold on tight, and pray.

Ryan Air

The world of Ryan Air is a very special one. Yes, they offer unbeatable deals to the unknown eye when all one see’s is the price next to the flight. What you do not see if you have never flown with them before, are the layers of trickery that lay beneath the surface. Now I will admit that they have gotten better. My first few trips, there were no seat assignments which made boarding the aircraft a free for all where you risk getting trampled in the stampede if you are not careful. The entire flight was one big advertisement, and you were only allowed one bag (that means no purses for the ladies). To check baggage is highway robbery, and the carry on allotments left a person with one pair of underwear and the clothes on their back for the duration of their vacation. Not to mention that if you are traveling from Germany, do not assume that Frankfurt Hahn is anywhere close to Frankfurt. It is literally hours away in the middle of nowhere.

However, Ryan Air has moved forward recently into a more civilized company with seat assignments and two carry ons (although the sizes of these are still pretty limited). Where they still get you is if you make any type of mistake.  My dear friend Lea made a mistake.

After an amazing trip to Malta, Annie, Lea and I decided that we would have one last hurrah together before Lea moved back to the states. We knew we wanted to go somewhere warm and spend at least one day scuba diving. We originally were looking at Egypt but with the current state of affairs, we decided against it. Annie found a great deal into Málaga, Spain with Ryan air and we booked it immediately. We noticed that there was quite a lot to do there, other than just hang out on the beach. Day trips into Tangier, Morocco were offered, and Gibraltar was only an hour and a half away.

Our flight was scheduled to leave out of Frankfurt Hahn at 0630 on Friday morning. With Ryan Air, at least for non EU members (not sure exactly how it is for EU passport holders), you need a customs stamp BEFORE you can go through security. How it works, is that you print out your boarding pass and bring it with you to the airport. At the Ryan Air counter, you just need to show your passport and boarding pass and they will give you the stamp. It is a pretty easy process, unless you forget your boarding pass.

Lea was having difficulty printing hers before hand, and showed up at Hahn hoping to just get one printed at the airport. This, my friends, is not a good idea. As I mentioned before, Ryan Air will punish you if you do anything out of the ordinary, like forget to bring your boarding pass. They will print one out for you, but it will cost you 70€. First lesson learned from our trip.

Getting ready for our flight

 



The Banana Boat

I mentioned in my post about Malta that I am afraid of sharks and the main reason for this being the banana boat attack during the movie “Jaws: The Revenge.”  Our first day in Málaga was spent on the beach, relaxing in the sun and drinking copious amounts of Sangria from the beach bar.

The more Sangria we put in our system, the more Annie and Lea harassed me about my shark fear. About 200 meters down the beach was a stand that offered banana boat rides  for 8€ per person, and the girls were pressuring me to go.

“It is time to conquer your fears” they both screamed, while laughing about how funny it would be if I died in a shark attack.

Four pitchers of Sangria later I decided that I would be able to kick a sharks ass if it attempted to attack, and bowed to the peer pressure of riding on the banana boat. We walked over to the stand and got in line. Annie has an underwater camera that we all decided, in our drunken state, would be fantastic out in the middle of the ocean. Knowing full well that we could eventually be thrown off the boat, Annie decided to tether the camera around a hair band on her wrist. What could go wrong?

We boarded the boat (me in the middle since jaws likes to eat the girls on the back) and headed out into the great blue sea. Our groups of riders were pretty coordinated, and we leaned into every turn, to the boat driver’s dismay.  If he couldn’t toss us off, then the ride was a failure. So he began to drive more aggressively, turning in one direction, then turning hard in the other. We flew off the banana and crashed into the water. When I surfaced, I looked over at Annie who was yelling “My camera!! Damn it! I lost my camera!” Lesson learned number two- don’t secure your camera with a hair band and expect to keep it.

We all climbed back onto the banana boat for another round. I have not mentioned yet that I had gotten an oil massage on the beach prior to riding the boat, for it is another lesson learned entirely. However, it plays a major role in this story because I had not rinsed it off properly, making it very difficult to hold onto/ stay on the banana. On the next run, we hit a turn and my body slid right off the boat. I was the only one. I looked around and saw that the boat driver didn’t realize I had fallen off and continued to drive away. Here I was alone in open water, and all I could think of was “They will laugh when I get eaten by a shark.”  I made peace with my imminent death and floated silently in the water.

Luckily, the driver noticed he was one rider short, and turned around to pick me up. I had survived!

 My "I survived" Dance

No shark attack today!

Crispy bacon

This was not the first time I had gotten a massage on the beach. While in Greece last summer, Tiffany and I had one almost every day. The difference was that this time I was drunk.  In my alcohol infused brain, I figured I would have a beautiful tan when the burn settled. Thinking myself a Brazilian goddess, I took a little nap while lying on my belly. Normally ones friends would tell them if they were starting to look red, however the girls had partaken in the four pitchers of Sangria and were in no position to comment on my slowly roasting butt.

The worst part of this story is that I never did turn golden brown, but rather started to peel. I am sure you have all had a sunburn at one point in your lives and know that when a burn starts to peel it itches like crazy! Not very attractive when that burn is on your ass and you spend the next four days scratching.  Third lesson learned from our trip.

 

To tour or not to tour…

Whenever I am traveling around a city and I see a large tour bus pull up, I roll my eyes at the horror of what is to come. People piling out of the bus, cameras in hand, while they follow the flower or whatever else the tour guide it holding up to keep the group together. I have found that you usually spend the majority of your time the bus or being shuffled from one place to the next with no time to explore on your own. You take pictures at a location where the tour guide finds it appropriate, which is usually at the same location as 20 other tour buses. I know this, because I have been on these types of tours.

The first time was seven years ago when I signed up for a four day tour of Beijing and the surrounding area. What was good about this tour was that we saw a LOT over these four days; Thiamine Square, the Great Wall of China, the Forbidden City, and the Summer Palace. It was a whirlwind of a trip. The issues I found where the restaurants we ate at were scheduled with food already prepared and set out. We had no choice of where or even what we wanted to eat.  We also had very little time at each location. I was given only an hour to explore and experience the Great Wall, which had been the main reason for me going to China in the first place.

Lea, Annie, and I had a similar experience when we signed up for a tour of Tangier, Morocco. Due to the limited time we had in Spain, we decided to sign up for a guided tour. Neither had been to Morocco before, so we were all VERY excited about this excursion.  We went to bed early Friday night, worn out from our day at the beach (yes, it can be so tiring to drink all day), and arose bright an early the next morning for our 0630 pickup. We spent the next three hours on a bus, headed to the port where we would catch a ferry into Africa.

Lea and I headed to Africa

Just like in China, we spent the first few hours in Morocco riding around on the bus with a guide giving us a windshield tour of the city, stopping at preplanned destinations where we could get out and take pictures with the other tour buses.  We stopped and played with camels, watched a snake charmer, and saw where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic.

With the Snake Charmer

Taken by Annie

When it was time for lunch, we drove to the Kasbah, the old fortified portion of the city, and walked through the narrow alleyways finally getting the opportunity to enjoy a piece of the city. I love the streets in Morocco. Each alleyway is lined with shops selling local bread, spices, or souvenirs. You can buy beautiful bowls, leather bags, and endless supplies of Argon oil. I also love the food. We dined on a chicken soup with cinnamon, lamb skewers, cous cous, and sweet mint tea.

Unfortunately, we had no time to explore on our own, and were herded back onto the bus for our long journey home. My advice to travelers- avoid these types of tours if you desire any freedom during your visit.

Romancing a Sea Cucumber

There is nothing like being 18 meters below the seas surface discovering all the different forms of life that you have only seen in an aquarium, or in a book. The feeling you get when you hold a star fish for the first time, or seeing an octopus ink as it tries to get away from you cannot be described.  Looking up to see an underwater mountain covered with coral and beautiful purple sea urchins.  But the most beautiful thing I have seen to date was a sea cucumber ejaculating on my friend Annie.

I have written about my trip to Malta where Annie and I received our open water cert, but our trip to Spain was our first dive where we were able to fully enjoy it without instruction. The hotel we were staying at had a five star PADI dive shop on the premises. We scheduled 2 dives for Sunday morning, and eagerly ran to the pool area after lunch where we met Rii and Elishia, our two guides for the day.  Since we were all PADI certified, Elishia decided to take us to a more advance dive site in an area called Nerja.  Here, we would hike down with all our gear to a small cliff, and jump into the water.  We arrived to a picturesque beach where the water was clear blue, and the weather was warm (unlike my bout of hypothermia in Malta). We put on our gear, and began the hike down to the water for our first dive.

View of our Dive Site

To the sound of my angelic voice belting out “part of your World” we took turns jumping into the water. It was cool and refreshing, and our descent underwater was flawless. Ok, I lied. As per usual, Annie had some issues and had to be dragged to the bottom by Elisha which was a source of enjoyment for me to watch.  The dive was incredible aside from me having issues clearing my ears during the beginning of the dive. We went to our max depth of 18 meters (although we only logged 16.4 in our books) exploring an area called three peaks. I had no idea that starfish felt like velvet, or that stripe ream looked like underwater rainbows. I am sad to say that we were unable to take any photos underwater due to the tragic loss of Annie’s camera on the banana boat. There was a moment when Lea was feeding the stripe beam a sea urchin, her body like a handstand with one arm out for balance, and the other holding out the urchin. She looked beautiful, and it would have made a great shot.

We surfaced from our first dive after spending 40 minutes underwater exploring. We climbed out of the water, and sat on the rocks for about 40 minutes to eat lunch and allow the nitrogen in our bodies to settle before the next dive.

 Acting goofy between dives

We entered the water the same way, but started swimming to the right towards the beach. The highlight of this dive was a particular sea cucumber we encountered along the way who I believe fell in love with me. Elishia stopped and picked him up to show us. It was the craziest looking thing; black with teeny tiny pink legs that were frantically kicking, trying to find the sea floor. Elisha indicated using hand signals that it was ok to touch it, which I did. I began to pet it like a cat when all of a sudden, it began to release a massive amount of white liquid that looked a lot like semen.  I indicated to Elisha using inappropriate gestures what I thought the sea cucumber was doing.  Unfortunately for Annie, and amusingly for me, she swam right into the floating strings of white. I fear she may become pregnant from this encounter, and have recommended she get a pregnancey test done upon her return to Germany.

If you are ever in the Malaga area and want to go scuba diving, check out our friend Elishia at: www.divinsinspain.com

The monkeys of Gibraltar

It is funny that no matter where in the world you are; Bali, Cambodia, or Gibraltar, the monkeys are all the same…complete assholes

I have had some very mixed experiences in the past with monkeys, to include having them crawl all over me in the monkey forest in Ubud, Bali because of the small bundle of bananas that I was storing in my purse. In that same forest a man was accosted and wallet stolen from his back pocket by a very aggressive one. This particular monkey flipped through the stolen wallet and then hurled it 10 feet after finding no money with which to purchase bananas.

However the story of my friend Laura in Cambodia takes the cake. Laura and I were traveling through the Siem Reap area of Cambodia with my cousin a few years ago, dedicating the trip to discovering the temples of Angkor Wat. During our first day, Laura and I decided to take an elephant ride around one of the temples.



I need to state here that Laura is as lucky as I am clumsy, and her luck is especially unfortunate when it comes to wild animals. This is a girl who, while running 2 miles for an Army Physical Fitness Test, was plowed over by a deer. So it comes as no surprise that as we rode around taking in the magic of Angkor Wat, that Laura would look up into the trees at the exact time a monkey was taking a pee.

“Oh my G-d!!! My eye! Holy crap!!”

She was hunched forward, hand over eye, contemplating whether to laugh or cry.

“What happened?” I asked at a total loss.

“A monkey just peed in my eye!”

I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard in my life. It was in that moment I decided that I loved monkeys.

My opinion changed again the moment I stepped off the cable car at the top of the Rock of Gibraltar. The first monkey I saw was at the top of a set of stairs that overlooked the city of Gibraltar, and the surrounding Spanish villages. Just as I came within arms reach, the little devil shoved its hand in my bag and tried to steal the new skirt I had just purchased at Top Shop. Thankfully, there was an older man nearby who snatched the top shop bag and gave it back to me. That same little stinker attempted to steal something out of Lea’s bag, but again he was unsuccessful.

 With the thieving monkey

 

As we continued on our trek around the rock, which I highly recommend to anyone visiting the south of Spain, I made the catastrophic mistake of taking a plum out of my bag to snack on. I got about halfway through when a HUGE monkey came out of the tree line and started heading my way. I commented on how cute he was, while the sweet juice of my plum dripped down my arm.

The next three seconds went in slow motion as I saw the eyes of the monkey follow the juice as a drop slid from my arm to the hot cement floor.  Before I could react the monkey started to charge at me and in utter panic, I threw the plum to the side in self defense. The monkey changed course, scooped up the plum, and sauntered off back into the tree line.

“I almost died!” I yelled as I turned to Annie who was laughing so hard, I thought she would pass out. Lesson leaned- do NOT eat food around monkeys. They will kill you

Taken by Annie

The Indy 500

For those of you who have never almost missed a flight, I highly recommend it.  Ok, I don’t unless you are looking for a heart attack. Not only were we minutes away from missing our flight, but we almost died on our way to the airport.

We had planned a lovely final day in Gibraltar. Since our flight wasn’t leaving until 2200, we had the entire day to relax and take in the sights. Since Gibraltar is British owned, we decided we would end our lovely weekend over fish and chips at one of the local restaurants. The plan was to be back at our vehicle at around 1830, which would get us to the airport around 2000 giving us enough time to shop duty free and go to starbucks (I collect starbucks country mugs, and do not have one from Spain…I still don’t).

We arrived back at our vehicle right on time, taking a few minutes to repack our bags so that everything fit into our two carry ons. We got in, typed in the address to the airport, and saw that we would arrive at 2010. AS we were pulling out of the garage, Annie muttered the seven worst words a traveler could hear.

“We are going to miss our flight.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, turning around to look at her in the back seat. “We have plenty of time.”

She shook her head and stared me straight in the eye. “Our flight leaves at 2020, and the gate closes at 2005. The GPS has us getting there at 2010.”

I honestly thought she was kidding. This is the sort of sick joke that I like playing on people, so I pulled out my boarding pass. Sure enough she was right. None of us actually looked at our return flight, and for some odd reason we all thought it departed at 2200. We were screwed.

Normally we could just look at getting another flight out the next day if we were willing to pay a little money, but two major circumstances were playing against us. The first- I had not put in a pass. In the military, anytime you want to leave the country, or go anywhere farther than 250 miles, you need permission. I never asked for it so I could potentially get in a lot of trouble. The second was that we flew with Ryan Air. I did not mention this above when writing about the beauty of Ryan Air, but they do not fly to every location every day.  We would have to wait THREE days to get back, which would have caused a few major issues for all of us.

Thank goodness Lea was at the wheel. A former fixed wing pilot in the Air Force, she had balls of steel. All she said was “I got this” and the ride of our lives began. She drove like a bat out of hell, and I am surprise that we survived this ride.  She swerved in and out of traffic, ran red lights, and once on the highway completely ignored the 120km speed limit and took our little POS (piece of shit) car to its limit of 180km. There was one point when we reached a bridge, where our car hit a bump and we were airborne for a good four seconds before slamming back into the ground.

I don’t know how she did it, but we made it to the airport at 1945. We left the navigation and the keys in the car and sprinted about a mile in bathing suits and flip flops to the Ryan Air counter, through security, and to the gate where our flight was boarding.   

Annie caught a picture of me looking shocked that we made it on the flight

Two birds with one stone- Scuba Diving in Malta

I have written about Iceland before, and I guarantee that I will write about it again mainly because it was the greatest adventure of my life to this date. Not only do I write about it, but I find myself talking about it in any situation where travel becomes the theme (which for me, it does in most cases), and I tend to gravitate towards people who have also been there. So, it was because of Iceland that I was able to cross TWO adventures off my bucket list in one weekend!

In the army, we conduct what is called a PAI, or personnel accountability inventory, where we show our ID tags and ID cards, and update any paperwork that may be delinquent in regards to admin.  As easy as this sounds, the army has a tendency to make anything and everything more difficult than it needs to be.  While sitting waiting for my turn to go through the ringer, I started talking to Lea, the Major sitting next to me. It started off pretty basic- talking about work and regular army stuff.  She asked what I do and I mentioned that I am in the process of getting out of the military to start the next path of my life, although I have yet to figure out what that path is. I have been contemplating a few different options to include traveling, moving to Australia, or staying in the Reserves in Germany. What I want pretty much changes every other day, so who knows how I will feel next week. During the timeframe where I was speaking with her, I was leaning towards joining the reserves.  But I am getting a little off topic here.  I never know how or when it happens, but eventually every conversation turns to travel, and this was no different. After a few minutes, we were trading stories on our most recent excursions when she mentioned a trip to Iceland. This, of course, caught my undivided attention. I sat in awe listening to her tell of glacier climbs, and jeep rides through the country. We both sat reminiscing about how Iceland is the most beautiful country we had ever seen.

When two women find something in common, we form a bond. It is a natural reaction and one that allows us to form friendships in the most unlikely places. And I promise, a PAI is not the most common of places to make a new friend.  This being said, we formed a bond and Lea gave me the name of a friend of hers that is currently serving in the reserves in Germany.  “You should definitely call her,” she told me as her name was called.  “She can give you some tips on the reserves, and she also loves to travel!” And with that, my new friend had opened the doors to my next great adventure.

That afternoon I decided to call the reservist, a First Lieutenant (1LT) named Shawnee. We planned on meeting the next day for lunch at the German Cantina on post. We sat and talked about the reserves for a while, and she gave me some very interesting tips. But as with everything else in my life, the topic quickly turned to traveling.  Just as we were finishing up our lunch, she mentioned her next big trip was going to be to Malta over the April four day. My excitement began to bubble in my chest, causing my pulse to increase and my cheeks to flush. Malta?? I had been dying to go there ever since I saw a picture of the Corinthian hotel in Valetta while staying at a sister Corinthian hotel in Lisbon, Portugal. After drinking like a fish until 0700, and waking up 2 hours later in order to catch a boat tour (where I proceeded to vomit into the boat toilet for the majority of the ride), I ended up spending the remainder of the day holed up in my hotel room watching “Click” with Adam Sandler and ordering room service. During a commercial, I decided to flip through one of the magazines on my bedside table and saw, for the first time, a picture of Malta. It was love at first sight, and from that moment on I had made a vow that I would visit one day. So when Shawnee mentioned there was room for one more in the villa they had rented and asked if I wanted to go, I screamed “YES!” as quickly and breathlessly as a woman who has been dating a man for 14 years when he finally asks her to marry him.  “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

That afternoon, I was added to the facebook event and I saw where we would be staying. A beautiful villa, called The Chataeu, located in the south-east part of the island near a picturesque fishing town called Marsaxlokk.  You can rent this villa yourself, which if you are going with a group- I highly recommend: http://www.homeaway.com/vacation-rental/p326753.

Our Villa

 

 

The most amazing part, if you are there over a weekend, is the fresh fish market on Sunday mornings. Since you will have a fully stocked kitchen, you can buy fresh fish and cook up a feast fit for a king! But I will talk more about that later. If you stay at the chateau, I would suggest renting a car, since it is a little out of the way. Even if you end up staying in downtown Valetta, I would still rent a car since the beauty of Malta can fully be experienced as you drive through the countryside. Small rentals cost around 85euro for four days, which is worth every cent.

As I perused the facebook thread detailing the trip, I noticed there was a lot of talk about scuba diving which was also on my bucket list. Could there be a possibility to kill two birds with one stone and sign up for scuba lessons?? There were 10 people on this trip, 4 of which were certified scuba divers, and one other girl named Annie who wanted to learn.

Shawnee’s husband Steve was the trip planner for this weekend, and a master diver to boot. When my interest in scuba was noticed, he did some digging around and found a dive shop that would be able to get me certified in two days, if I was able to complete the PADI online elearning course prior to my arrival in Malta.  Although I plan on talking in great detail later in this article about the amazing adventure of scuba and the unforgettable people at Neptunes diving in Balluta Bay, I would like to add the website link here so you all can begin your cyber stalking of the greatest dive shop in the world! Yes I am a bit biased, but the crew at Neptune’s deserves all the accolades that I can provide (not to mention Martin, one of the shop owners, has received the Star Performers Award on numerous occasions for being voted the number one tourist site in Malta).  So, here is the link, and you can also find them on facebook: http://www.neptunesdiving.eu/.

 

My excitement for this trip tucked neatly away in the back of my head, I began the 12 hours online PADI course. At this point I am not going to lie…it was tedious! Because I am a nerd, and I don’t like to fail, I decided that I would take copious notes throughout the course. I continued hour after grueling hour, almost developing carpal tunnel, to ensure a study guide for any reader that would like to earn a scuba license. These notes, all 25 pages and 10,647 words, are available for anyone who asks for them in the comment portion of this post. You’re welcome.

Finally with the PADI elearning behind me, and my proof of accomplishment printed out and tucked neatly away in the hot pink documents carrier that I have been traveling with for the last 15 years, I began to pack. And yes, I am a procrastinator and did not finish my online portion until the day prior to departure. I am lucky I finished it that fast, and didn’t have to spend two hours the first night in our villa on the computer! Congrats to me!

I will not bore you with the details of our travel to the airport, or the flight to Malta, but I will mention that upon arrival on the evening of 3 April when we picked up our rental cars, I discovered that we/ I would be the driver of our car and that we would be driving on the left side of the road. When I approached our little silver bullet I, of course, went to the left side of the car. When I realized that there was no steering wheel, my heart began to race. No, I did not think someone stole it. I am not a complete moron. However, I began to have flashbacks about the first time I had driven on the other side of the road.

The year was 1997. I was 17, a junior in high school, and my varsity basketball team had spent the summer on the other side of the word in New Zealand and Fiji playing basketball. It was a glorious summer/ New Zealand winter. I went skydiving for the first time, got my first tattoo, met a boy with whom I would write to for the following 5 years…and drove for the first time on the wrong (yes, I said wrong) side of the road.  It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I had some difficulty, since I had only had a drivers license for just over a year and we all know how teenage girls drive! My first accident was when I was 16, when I drove my car onto a curb because I was singing and dancing while driving and apparently couldn’t dance without losing control of the car. But I digress yet again. On this occasion, it was a roundabout that was the culprit. In the normal world, we approach a roundabout with the intension of turning to the right, which is what I did. Wrong decision! I was supposed to turn left, and at that moment I found myself driving headfirst into oncoming traffic! So I did what any 17 year old would do, and drove the car off the side of the road and blew out 2 tires. Welcome to New Zealand!

So you can understand my panic when I hoped into the driver seat at the Valetta Airport in Malta.  Luckily, we made it to the villa safe and sound that night, without accident or incident. I can’t say the same for another member in our group who side swiped a parked car. I would like to high five myself here for being an excellent driver while laughing mercilessly and pointing a finger at the girl for hitting another vehicle 5 minutes into our trip, but I ended up doing the exact same thing the following morning, which put in me in my place and kept my ego in check.

 

Our scuba lessons were scheduled for Saturday and Sunday, so Friday morning we made a recon drive into Balluta Bay to meet with our instructors, fill out paperwork, take our PADI written exam, and get fitted for our wetsuits.

No one ever tells you when describing a scuba experience, the graceless dance required to put on a wet suit. Instead, we jump straight ahead to images of a snuggly fit second skin as only the backdrop to the full diving ensemble. You also expect them to keep you warm, but that is another topic all together.  But what I have recently discovered, is that there should have been some preparation, some “how to” class on stuffing the extra rolls of fat and skin (the result of far too much wine and chocolate cake) into what I now like to call “the suit of death.”

 

 Annie and I

Lea looking good!

Nail polish ruined and nails broken, Annie and I sat down to take our PADI exam. Being the type “A”person that I can be at times, I took pleasure in comparing our correct and incorrect responses, doing the “I am the Greatest” dance when I scored one point higher than she did. Yes, I am a total ass.

 

Once we completed all prerequisites for our dive the following morning, we set out to start exploring the island. Since this was the only full day we would all have together, we decided to drive to the northern part of the island, and hop a ferry over to the island of Gozo in order to see the Azure window.

I had only seen a picture of the Azure window on pinterest (where I tend to spend the majority of my days while at work in total and utter boredom), and was ecstatic to be able to cross that off my Malta “to see” list.

The drive out was breathtaking. Although the countryside of Malta is beautiful, Gozo was beyond words. The sprawling landscape, dotted with churches that graced even the smallest of villages, had me in awe.

One of my favorite things is to take pictures of doors. I am not sure why, but there is something about a beautiful door that can brighten my day. What we found, was Gozo was one beautiful door after another. When we first drove off the ferry, we found we were stopping every few minutes to take a picture. Realizing that we would never make it to the Azure window if we stopped at EVERY beautiful door we saw, we began to limit our pictures which allowed us to make it to the coast 30 minutes before the sun was setting. 

 

Azure Window

 

This beautiful photo was taken by Annie

 Annie and I enjoying the sunset

 

The next morning was our first day of scuba school, or death by hyperthermia as I like to call it. When I picture Malta, I imagine the beaches and the hot sun beating down. However, this was not the case for us. It was the first weekend of April, and the scorching heat of summer had yet to make an appearance. It was sunny, but windy with temperatures in the low 60s F (around 15 C). For someone that gets cold as easily as I do, this was NOT ideal. I figured that once we got in the pool and began our training, I would forget the cold and get lost in the instruction. This did not happen. I spent the entire day running in and out of the bathroom, jumping in the shower and running hot water over me between dives to warm up my frozen hands and blue lips.

 Annie and I- Buddy Checks complete!

 

The pool day was hilarious. My friend Annie and I were doing a private class, which was perfect since we set the pace. Aside from us both freaking out a little during our first 30 seconds breathing underwater, we eased through the training.  Although the lessons on removing our regulators and clearing our masks were obnoxious, the biggest roadblock we faced was attempting to maintain buoyancy. It wasn’t just the buoyancy, but the fact that we both kept rolling in laughter while watching the other attempt control which caused some issues. I remember two distinct times where I almost peed in my wetsuit (on accident- I won’t lie and say that I never happily peed during our open water dives in an attempt to warm me up- because I did). The first was in the pool where we removed our weight belts underwater and then had to put them back on. Annie went first. We both sank to the bottom of the pool and watched as Dora, our amazing instructor from Hungary, showed us the steps. Like any instructor, Dora made everything look easy. Annie, on the other hand, made it look like the most difficult thing in the world. I ended up having to clear my mask three times in about 3 minutes due to my excessive and uncontrollable laughter while watching Annie try to reattach her belt. She literally was doing barrel roles while Dora tried to hold her in place. She would put it on her lower back while facing the bottom of the pool, and get dragged around 180 degrees.  It doesn’t sound all that funny while I write this, but you have to trust me when I say that she looked absolutely ridiculous! I won’t say anything more, since I experienced the same embarrassment during my attempt.

The second time I almost peed myself was our first open water dive. During our initial descent, I sunk pretty easily to the bottom (the one and only time I went down smoothly). Annie, on the other hand did not. As she began to release air from her vest she began to sink tank first, feet pointed directly up towards the surface and out of the water. I am not exactly sure what she was doing, but I got a good laugh at it. Again, I can’t make fun of her too much, since I did the same thing the following day.

With our first day of diving behind us, Annie and I set out to explore a little of Malta. We spent the evening driving around Valletta, stopping to take pictures along the way. It is hard to describe the beauty of the city. Annie and I pulled over at one point, and stared at the harbor for a good 30 minutes. I can only describe it as a feast for the eyes, for wherever you looked you were met with rich architecture and deep blue water. I have taken some photos, although they do not fully articulate the beauty of the city.

 Valetta

Grand Harbor

The next morning Annie, Lea and I set off for our final day of diving. If all went well, Annie and I would have our open water cert, and Lea would have her advanced open water cert. We arrived at the dive shop and began loading vans with all our equipment. We all piled in and drove along the coast for about 25 min to the area where we would spend our day.

Malta is not necessarily known for its Marine life, but more for its shipwrecks. Being strategically located during the Second World War, there are various shipwrecks for eager divers and historians to explore. For our three open water dives, we would be looking at the HMS Maori. According to Martin, the dive shop owner, the Maori was one of the first ships sent to Malta and it played an integral role in the destruction of the Bismarck in 1941.

Before I go into the details of our dives, I need to make one important announcement that, like my fear of heights, is rather embarrassing. For any normal human that is excited about diving, getting out of the pool and into the open water would be a source of excitement. This is not the case for me. I have an irrational fear of sharks. I tell people this fear derived from my previous life as a mermaid, a lie I have repeated so many times that I am now beginning to believe as truth. Too many hours spent watching Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid” as a child molded this belief. But the truth is…I was never a mermaid. My fear comes from my older sister being a complete ass.

Every summer during the 1980’s and 1990’s, my parents and I would spend our summer vacation camping in Lake Shasta, California. We would rent ski boats, jet skis, banana boats…you name it. Water sports and s ‘mores were the backbone of our summer! At six years old, my body was too lanky and awkward to succeed at water skiing, so riding on the banana boat on the back of the speed boat was my greatest joy. I would laugh out loud as we hit rough water, causing all riders to bounce up and down.

In 1986, two days before leaving for Shasta, my older sister Aleta asked if I wanted to watch a movie with her. Aleta and I are 10 years apart in age, so she NEVER wanted to hang out with me. So when she asked to watch a movie, I almost pissed my pants in excitement!  The movie of the day was “Jaws: The Revenge.” If you have never seen this particular gem, there is a very vivid scene where a bunch of people are riding around on a banana boat when the devil creature Jaws comes up behind the boat, and attacks a girl riding on the back of the banana. He locks his jaws around her legs and mid section, dragging her bleeding body underwater while she helplessly punches him in the nose, trying to escape. I didn’t get on another banana boat until 2008, when I rode one in Korea. Since that fateful summer, I do not go in open water. I have been to Bali, Thailand, Hawaii, and Greece…and you will never see me get in passed my knees.

The only reason I agreed to scuba dive, aside from me putting it on my bucket list, was the promise that there have been no shark attacks in Malta in 100 years.  It did take a great deal of courage before I closed my eyes, and took that first step into the freezing cold ocean.

Our first dive was simple, going over skills and exploring close to our entry point. I remember finding a pair of goggles on the sea floor and hoping that when I took a closer look, there would be the words “P. Sherman 42 Wallably Way, Sydney” written on the band. The second dive, we went a little farther out, and ended up swimming through a wall of jellyfish. I was terrified of getting stung and having to ask Annie to pee on my leg, but due to the freezing water, we were fully covered and able to swim directly through their tentacles. Our third and final dive was the shipwreck of the Maori.

 

 Me chillin'

 Annie and Dora

Lea, Dora, Annie and I by the Maori

With our new PADI certs in hand, the three of us decided to celebrate by visiting the silent city of Mdina and the popular café “fontanella” which is known for its chocolate cake. Mdina is a medieval walled city situated on a hill in the middle of a valley. It is truly one of the quietest towns I have ever visited, the only real noise being the sound of the wind as it bounces off the buildings. It is rather small, but you can spend a lazy afternoon getting lost in the alleyways and taking in the slick architecture.

Mdina

On our last morning Annie, Lea and I explored Marsaxlokk, ending our trip with a delicious lunch by the water.

If you ever have a chance to visit Malta, don’t miss it! It is the trip of a lifetime!