We had to apply for special visas in Turkey, and this question was overheard on the gangway:
"Why do I have to get a Turkish visa if I already have a credit card???"
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Istanbul, Not Constantinople
With a population greater than all of Greece, Istanbul is a huge metropolitan city with all the best to offer from both the East and the West. This city literally lies on the boarder of the East (Asia) and West (Europe), and it is also the largest city in all of Europe. There is so much for me to say about how wonderful this place is, but I will try to highlight my favorite parts. Here goes…
Shopping:
There are a few phrases I like to learn in every country I visit. Words like “thank you,” “please,” and “hello” can take you a long way with the locals when you are playing the role of a confused foreigner. Some words, however, I invariably learn through osmosis. During my weeklong immersion in a different culture, I often pick up a different set of vocabulary like “Taxi!” “One beer please,” and of course, a special set of words related to shopping like “sale,” “how much?” and “I love it!!!” I learned these shopping words quite well in Turkey, where the dollar is strong, the shopping is plentiful, and the prices are cheap.
The Grand Bazaar is by far the most unbelievable shopping experience I’ve ever had, including mad buying weekends at market with my mother. Over 4000 shops comprise this ancient maze of rugs, tapestries, clothes, shoes, souvenirs, spices, scarves, porcelain, knock-off Gucci, gold and silver jewelry, and just about any other ware you are willing to bargain for. Any woman eagerly seeking a husband should come straight here, where I collected marriage proposals and other assorted flatteries all day from vendors eager to show off their goods. It was a lot to take, and I luckily didn’t get too carried away with spending.
If shopping were not enough motivation to visit this infamous location, then consider the educational value of bargaining skills. I thought that I was a bit of a pushover, but as it turns out I am pretty good at this bargaining thing, and in my time at the Bazaar I gained better insight into the art of negotiation. This for that, give and take, feigned insults and insincere compliments all ring through the halls of the bazaar where vendors and customers size each other up before beginning the arduous bargaining process. And it’s all bargaining here—absolutely nothing has a price tag.
A typical transaction might go a little like this: Vendor: “Lady! Lady! You soooooo pretty! Where you from?” (insert Turkish accent)
Me: “America. Texas.”
Vendor: “Oooooh! I LOVE America! I have a cousin in Texas. Tell you what, I give you special deal on rug, because you from Texas. 380 Lira. Good price!”
Me: “Sorry, but I can’t afford that. I’m a student.”
Vendor: “Oh! Student discount! 200 Lira!”
Me: “But I don’t have any cash.”
Vendor: “Credit card??”
Me: “Nope.”
Vendor: “Parent’s credit card??”
Me: “Don’t tempt me.”
The Grand Bazaar can prove to be a little overwhelming, but it was totally worth it in the end for me. Even more sensory than the Grand Bazaar is Istanbul’s Spice Bazaar. Here I found rows upon rows of towering piles of exotic spices, herbs and teas. Many of these goods were completely foreign to me, and the blend of fragrances was euphoric making for a delightful, albeit overwhelming experience. Turkish Delight was everywhere, and Andrea and I hunted down the tastiest looking samples from every corner of the market. If all this weren’t enough, just around the corner there was an animal market packed with baby bunnies, kittens, puppies, birds of all ages and sizes, tiny turtles, hamsters, leeches, geese, fish, and just about any other pet or small livestock imaginable. I had a bit of an E.T. moment upon seeing all of these adorable animals cooped up in tiny cages piled 10 feet high. It was kind of depressing and I felt compelled to set them free, however I thought twice when my mind flashed on the possibility of Turkish prison. We screened Midnight Express on the ship, and hash or animal release, I am NOT going to prison in Turkey.
Baths:
Ahh, Turkish baths. The living, thriving remnants of an ancient tradition sprinkled generously among a bustling metropolis. I do not know where to begin in describing these day spas on steroids, but I will say that I didn’t know I was ever dirty until I entered a Turkish bath house. For Muslims of the Ottoman Empire, cleanliness really was next to Godliness, and that is how these amazing public bathhouses began. They were integral social meeting places where boys could be boys and girls could be girls and they could all get clean at the same time. Today, I was able to pay a small fee, about $60 USD, to be scrubbed down, sudsed up, and massaged in the biggest, most beautiful sauna I’ve ever seen. I felt like a princess and would go back again if I had more time in the city.
The bathhouse I went to has been in operation since the 1580’s, and is in a building that is arguably as beautiful as some of the city’s Mosques. There is a huge room with a large solid marble heated platform where everyone lays down before her bath. The room feels like a cross between a steam room and a dry sauna, but better. Here I sweat more than I knew was possible until one of the washers came over and bathed me with luxurious, bubbly soap while scrubbing layers upon layers of grime and dead skin off. I literally watched layers of dead skin peel away. Oh, and I forgot to mention that everyone is naked. But seriously, it’s not a big deal over here, so I just went with it. Afterwards there is a hot tub, thirty-minute hot oil massage, another rinse off shower and hot Turkish apple tea. Best bath ever.
Nightlife:
If I had to compare Turkey to any other city I’ve visited, it would be NYC. Both are crammed with crazy yellow taxis, both are cultural melting pots, both are major international business and shopping centers, both have a layer of delightful city grime, and both have a healthy nighttime scene for all sorts of tastes. I spent a lot of time learning about the nightlife in Istanbul and enjoyed all types of settings ranging from dance clubs to rooftop bars to acoustic Turkish renditions of “I Will Survive.”
All in all, Istanbul was just plain fun. I shopped, I ate, I bathed, I partied and then I did it all over again each day for about a week. Not a great cultural triumph port for me, but a whole lot of fun! After staying out late every night this port, and possibly picking up a stomach bug from Turkish street food, I had better go to sleep.
Cheers,
Bonnie
p.s. I DID pick up a bug from Turkish street food. I will spare you the details, but it was awful and lasted over a month.
There are a few phrases I like to learn in every country I visit. Words like “thank you,” “please,” and “hello” can take you a long way with the locals when you are playing the role of a confused foreigner. Some words, however, I invariably learn through osmosis. During my weeklong immersion in a different culture, I often pick up a different set of vocabulary like “Taxi!” “One beer please,” and of course, a special set of words related to shopping like “sale,” “how much?” and “I love it!!!” I learned these shopping words quite well in Turkey, where the dollar is strong, the shopping is plentiful, and the prices are cheap.
 |
| Grand Bazaar |
If shopping were not enough motivation to visit this infamous location, then consider the educational value of bargaining skills. I thought that I was a bit of a pushover, but as it turns out I am pretty good at this bargaining thing, and in my time at the Bazaar I gained better insight into the art of negotiation. This for that, give and take, feigned insults and insincere compliments all ring through the halls of the bazaar where vendors and customers size each other up before beginning the arduous bargaining process. And it’s all bargaining here—absolutely nothing has a price tag.
 |
| Spice Bazaar |
A typical transaction might go a little like this: Vendor: “Lady! Lady! You soooooo pretty! Where you from?” (insert Turkish accent)
Me: “America. Texas.”
Vendor: “Oooooh! I LOVE America! I have a cousin in Texas. Tell you what, I give you special deal on rug, because you from Texas. 380 Lira. Good price!”
Me: “Sorry, but I can’t afford that. I’m a student.”
Vendor: “Oh! Student discount! 200 Lira!”
Me: “But I don’t have any cash.”
Vendor: “Credit card??”
Me: “Nope.”
Vendor: “Parent’s credit card??”
Me: “Don’t tempt me.”
The Grand Bazaar can prove to be a little overwhelming, but it was totally worth it in the end for me. Even more sensory than the Grand Bazaar is Istanbul’s Spice Bazaar. Here I found rows upon rows of towering piles of exotic spices, herbs and teas. Many of these goods were completely foreign to me, and the blend of fragrances was euphoric making for a delightful, albeit overwhelming experience. Turkish Delight was everywhere, and Andrea and I hunted down the tastiest looking samples from every corner of the market. If all this weren’t enough, just around the corner there was an animal market packed with baby bunnies, kittens, puppies, birds of all ages and sizes, tiny turtles, hamsters, leeches, geese, fish, and just about any other pet or small livestock imaginable. I had a bit of an E.T. moment upon seeing all of these adorable animals cooped up in tiny cages piled 10 feet high. It was kind of depressing and I felt compelled to set them free, however I thought twice when my mind flashed on the possibility of Turkish prison. We screened Midnight Express on the ship, and hash or animal release, I am NOT going to prison in Turkey.
 |
| Turkish Delight |
 |
| Taksim by Day |
Ahh, Turkish baths. The living, thriving remnants of an ancient tradition sprinkled generously among a bustling metropolis. I do not know where to begin in describing these day spas on steroids, but I will say that I didn’t know I was ever dirty until I entered a Turkish bath house. For Muslims of the Ottoman Empire, cleanliness really was next to Godliness, and that is how these amazing public bathhouses began. They were integral social meeting places where boys could be boys and girls could be girls and they could all get clean at the same time. Today, I was able to pay a small fee, about $60 USD, to be scrubbed down, sudsed up, and massaged in the biggest, most beautiful sauna I’ve ever seen. I felt like a princess and would go back again if I had more time in the city.
 |
| Another Night Out in Taksim |
If I had to compare Turkey to any other city I’ve visited, it would be NYC. Both are crammed with crazy yellow taxis, both are cultural melting pots, both are major international business and shopping centers, both have a layer of delightful city grime, and both have a healthy nighttime scene for all sorts of tastes. I spent a lot of time learning about the nightlife in Istanbul and enjoyed all types of settings ranging from dance clubs to rooftop bars to acoustic Turkish renditions of “I Will Survive.”
 |
| New Friends |
 |
| Club IQ. Spencer, Me, Andrea, Andrew, Alicia, Krystin. |
Bonnie
p.s. I DID pick up a bug from Turkish street food. I will spare you the details, but it was awful and lasted over a month.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Late Nights and Ancient Ruins: Athens Take Two
Athens is a bustling metropolis all grown up around a series of ancient ruins that date back to the glory days of the Greek Empire. There is a lot to do here, both ancient ruins and bustling nightlife, and I had very little time to do it in. Leah and I got started on our quest to see it all as soon as we were off the ferry from Santorini. We went straight to our cooking class with SAS, which turned out to be less than amazing but at least gave us a lift into the city and a taste of Greek cuisine. From there we toured the amazing Acropolis Museum and climbed to the top of the Pantheon. Here were the best views of the city, and we took more pictures than I care to admit.
As fun as ancient Athens is, the nightlife that evening was equally impressive. After asking around, a group of my ship friends ended up in a very hip area of Athens called Gazi that is a bit like Austin’s 6th street times 10 (not that I would actually know what 6th street is like at night, since I’ve only driven by, but I’m guessing here). It made for great people watching, great fun, and we stayed out past 5 a.m. We were, I believe, among the first to leave this area. I could tell that everywhere we went was authentic because my friend Kara and I were always the only blondes in the entire bar. That’s our new litmus test: count the blondes for authenticity.
The last day in Athens I got a bit of a late start, but ended up in a very chic side of town with a very dear friend from the ship named Maegan. We shopped street vendors and talked over coffee at a day bar on a stylish row of restaurants. This was a Sunday afternoon in Athens: everyone out with friends drinking coffee or cocktails and playing the board games that these day bars provided. The U.S. might be the leader of the world in economic terms, but we could learn a lesson from the Greeks about relaxation. Sure, our diet sucks and prevents us from living longer, but I’m convinced this Mediterranean secret to long life lies in cheap wine and no stress. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
Now I am headed for Turkey and I’m getting a very strong feeling that I’m not in Kansas anymore. I’m thrilled to be going to such an exotic, different place, but I’m also a little nervous. Really, I just can’t wait to dock and see this Asian/European city whose population is greater than the entire country of Greece and which shares a boarder with Iraq. Don’t worry mom, I’m not gonna try to cross over.
As fun as ancient Athens is, the nightlife that evening was equally impressive. After asking around, a group of my ship friends ended up in a very hip area of Athens called Gazi that is a bit like Austin’s 6th street times 10 (not that I would actually know what 6th street is like at night, since I’ve only driven by, but I’m guessing here). It made for great people watching, great fun, and we stayed out past 5 a.m. We were, I believe, among the first to leave this area. I could tell that everywhere we went was authentic because my friend Kara and I were always the only blondes in the entire bar. That’s our new litmus test: count the blondes for authenticity.
The last day in Athens I got a bit of a late start, but ended up in a very chic side of town with a very dear friend from the ship named Maegan. We shopped street vendors and talked over coffee at a day bar on a stylish row of restaurants. This was a Sunday afternoon in Athens: everyone out with friends drinking coffee or cocktails and playing the board games that these day bars provided. The U.S. might be the leader of the world in economic terms, but we could learn a lesson from the Greeks about relaxation. Sure, our diet sucks and prevents us from living longer, but I’m convinced this Mediterranean secret to long life lies in cheap wine and no stress. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
Now I am headed for Turkey and I’m getting a very strong feeling that I’m not in Kansas anymore. I’m thrilled to be going to such an exotic, different place, but I’m also a little nervous. Really, I just can’t wait to dock and see this Asian/European city whose population is greater than the entire country of Greece and which shares a boarder with Iraq. Don’t worry mom, I’m not gonna try to cross over.
Santorini, or Mamma Mia!
If my sort-of Canadian friend Cody Brandon set the standard for Canada and Roman Holiday gave me all the expectations I carried to Rome, then the brilliant, magical musical Mamma Mia set the bar incredibly high for the Greek Islands. This movie along with the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants were all I had to go on before I landed in beautiful Greece. I knew the history, I had a firm grasp on the many gods, and I’ve been hearing about mythology since I was a baby, but much of my impression of Greece was founded upon my many viewings of Meryl Streep in my favorite movie musical. I set off for my island adventure with ABBA playing in my head and was not disappointed by the beautiful sights and people in my island adventure.
We set off for the island of Santorini at about 11:00 p.m. Earlier that day we had a pretty stressful time purchasing tickets, and Leah and I ended up with the last two tickets on the ferry (or so the ticket clerk told us) and had to pay a little bit more than Krystin and Kara, our travel companions for this island adventure, who ended up with cheaper coach tickets.
By some miracle our cab successfully dropped us at the correct port, and I was faced with one of the craziest scenes I’ve encountered in my entire life. I should have guessed that the only midnight ferry to Santorini leaving on a Thursday evening in the tourist season might be a little packed, but nothing could have prepared me for these crowds. With a similar degree of anticipation and fear to what I had last fall at an outdoor Kings of Leon performance, I struggled with thousands of backpackers, families, Athenians, mopeds, eighteen wheelers, smart cars, college students, and ferry workers to cram onto the boat before it left the port. I was not looking forward to sleeping on the floor for the entire night that it takes to get to the island, but I approached the situation with a positive outlook. When we found our check-in desk on the ship we were ushered to the spotless personal cabin Leah and I had to ourselves and it was bigger than our cabin on the MV Explorer. To my utter delight, it came fully equipped with a personal bathroom, shower, two beds and reading lamps. In short, it was heaven on earth. Our travel companions were unfortunately relegated to sleeping on the floor of the ship and sharing a bathroom with hundreds of other ferry travelers. It was the best extra 20 Euros I’ve ever spent.
After a heavenly night’s sleep, I awoke to the ferry pulling in at the paradise island of Santorini. The sun was shining, the water was blue, and I hadn’t a care in the world. Except, of course, that we didn’t yet have a place to stay. For this adventure we subscribed to the wing-it college travel theory. We didn’t book ahead and we didn’t have a clue where we would be spending the night. Within minutes we were approached by a Greek man with a ponytail twice as long as my own who showed us pictures of an apartment 5 minutes from the black sand beach on the south side of the island near the fishing village of Perissa. Under normal conditions, I would not condone getting in a van with a man who wore his hair past his waist, but the room was only 17 Euros a night, and the pictures sure looked pretty.
Things couldn’t have turned out better for us, and after a short bus ride to the other side of the island we arrived at the cutest white washed, blue roofed hotel I could have ever imagined. Best of all, it was a short stroll to the black sand beach where we spent the entire first day soaking up the Mediterranean sun. This was seriously the best beach I’ve ever been to, and I’m not a beach person. The water was crystal clear and the perfect temperature and we swam in it all day. The black sand created a startling contrast to the blue of the ocean and the sky and the beach was lined with the most charming bungalow bars I have ever seen. What was most unexpected was the complete lack of people. We literally had an entire stretch of beach to ourselves for the entire day with no one around to bother us besides the occasional traveling street vendor peddling very convincing Ray Bans. The only negative was that I had forgot my sunglasses on the ship, but more on that later.
That evening we proceeded to Fira, the main town on the island, for dinner and a view and slept quite soundly in our apartment by the sea. Not too much debauchery on Santorini today, but a surplus of pure bliss.
The next day was packed with shopping, eating, donkey rides and some beachside bar hopping before it was unfortunately time to leave. Santorini is an amazing place to be. It has great beaches, great shopping, breathtaking sunsets and a blend of ancient charm, rustic wilderness, a color palette unsurpassed by any other place I have visited and a heavy pinch of fun. It is covered in valleys of grape vines popping out of rough volcanic soil and woven into a living basket around themselves, sprinkled with small fishing villages built on and around breathtaking sea cliffs, and brimming with its own unique brand of charm. It is paradise and I can honestly say that it is my favorite of all the places we have visited so far. I was not ready to leave on the midnight ferry.
By this time, however I had noticed that something was definitely wrong with my eyes. They were incredibly itchy and would not stop running and after a long day I had no makeup left for all the rubbing and itching and tears. I was terrified that I might be getting pink eye, that perhaps I was allergic to donkeys or that I was somehow adverse to seaside island life. When I went into an Internet café while waiting for the ferry, the guy behind the register asked “why you crying?” and I knew I had to do something. I woke up the next morning in the luxurious ferry cabin to eyes glued shut, and once we were back to the MV Explorer I went straight to the clinic. Want to know what the problem was? My eyes were sunburned. Sunburned!!! Yeah, it is actually possible. I had slathered sunscreen over every inch of my body, but since I left my sunglasses at the ship the Mediterranean sun burned my fair colored eyes. Nothing a bottle of eye drops can’t fix, but definitely something I didn’t see coming.
Eye sunburn aside, Santorini was amazing. It was the most relaxing experience of my life, and fully lived up to all of my Greek island dreams. I wasn’t ready to leave, and I’m already set to go back. Next stop: The Acropolis at Athens.
Arriving at Athens
For the first time in a country, I was very pleased to be an American abroad instead of a German. Since Greece originally began experiencing economic problems, many of them fiercely blame other countries in the European Union, specifically Germany. One particularly disgruntled Athenian vented to a friend that Germany has done with the Euro what it wanted to do with WWII: European domination. Perhaps this view is extreme, but suffice to say that Greeks are not pleased with their current situation. For me, this means cheap prices and fewer tourists, but for Athens, this situation could have serious long term implications.
I was not able to spend too much time here the first day because I was preoccupied with booking a ferry to Santorini, but more on Athens later.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
I Really am Learning Things-I Promise!
I recently tagged a Political Science major onto my Business degree at TCU, so I have naturally been interested in the events transpiring in the Mediterranean during my stay here. Unfortunately, our ship’s lack of Internet and newspapers has left me unsatisfied in my desire for up to date information on current events. Seriously, mount Vesuvius could have erupted since we left Italy, and I would not have a clue. Yesterday, however, when an unmanned drone flew over and around our ship, lingering over the 7th deck tanning area, I became immediately aware of the continuing issues surrounding Israel and the Gaza Strip, as well as the fact that the world is, in fact still turning during my many Mediterranean adventures. This drone was most likely sent from Israel, the biggest user of this type of aircraft outside of the United States, to check out our ship. A ship recently sailed from the area around the Greek islands that threatened to challenge the Israel blockade. Not again, you think. Well nothing became of the incident, except that I was reminded of my real priority in taking this voyage: to immerse myself in different cultures and learn as much as I can about their history and present struggles. Enter, Greece.
Today was my first day in Athens, and as I sit waiting to board my midnight ferry to Santorini, I am reflecting on what I have already learned and observed about this country’s extensive history, captivating culture, and present economic woes. Starting with history, I’ve gotten fairly well acquainted with many of the Greek gods on this voyage, two in particular named Athena and Dionysius. On the one hand, I identify with Athena, the goddess of wisdom, devouring books with the same fervor I directed toward Da Michele’s pizza in Naples. On the other, I have become quite the student of Dionysius, the god of pleasure and wine. I don’t think I need to draw any examples to prove my point here. Both give me great happiness; both are needed to make a balanced life.
The culture, well, I don’t think I have to sell anyone on that. My Big Fat Greek Wedding is on television right now, and who wouldn’t secretly love to have a big, fat, Greek family like that? Whi le I’m on the subject, gyros and hummus are love in food form. Almost as comforting as TexMex, but not quite. As far as the economy, tensions run high right now among the EU, and this is a very serious time for the fairly new union and its universal currency. It is easy to see the effect by walking the streets of Athens. Everything is cheaper here, strikes are a weekly occurrence, and there is a very real risk I may end up stranded on the island of Santorini because the ferry companies periodically decide to strike without warning. Stranded on a beautiful Greek island, tragic, huh?
Santorini is where I will be for the next few days, so wish me a fun time in Greece, and pray the ferries are running long enough for me to get back--the airlines are already on strike!
From Athens with Love,
Bonnie
Today was my first day in Athens, and as I sit waiting to board my midnight ferry to Santorini, I am reflecting on what I have already learned and observed about this country’s extensive history, captivating culture, and present economic woes. Starting with history, I’ve gotten fairly well acquainted with many of the Greek gods on this voyage, two in particular named Athena and Dionysius. On the one hand, I identify with Athena, the goddess of wisdom, devouring books with the same fervor I directed toward Da Michele’s pizza in Naples. On the other, I have become quite the student of Dionysius, the god of pleasure and wine. I don’t think I need to draw any examples to prove my point here. Both give me great happiness; both are needed to make a balanced life.
The culture, well, I don’t think I have to sell anyone on that. My Big Fat Greek Wedding is on television right now, and who wouldn’t secretly love to have a big, fat, Greek family like that? Whi le I’m on the subject, gyros and hummus are love in food form. Almost as comforting as TexMex, but not quite. As far as the economy, tensions run high right now among the EU, and this is a very serious time for the fairly new union and its universal currency. It is easy to see the effect by walking the streets of Athens. Everything is cheaper here, strikes are a weekly occurrence, and there is a very real risk I may end up stranded on the island of Santorini because the ferry companies periodically decide to strike without warning. Stranded on a beautiful Greek island, tragic, huh?
Santorini is where I will be for the next few days, so wish me a fun time in Greece, and pray the ferries are running long enough for me to get back--the airlines are already on strike!
From Athens with Love,
Bonnie
Monday, July 12, 2010
Thanks
I’ve done a lot of thinking today about how incredibly blessed I am to be taking this voyage. This is the experience of a lifetime, and I would not be here if it were not for the love and support of my friends and family.
So, to everyone who has helped me reach this point in any way, anyone who shopped at our garage sale, kept me in their prayers, passed along advice or words of encouragement, padded my pocketbook, wished me the best, or listened to my excitement and concerns, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
And to my parents, who put up with me on a daily basis, who must surely be very worried about their forgetful, sometimes clueless daughter, who helped me pack at 3 in the morning and then helped me repack the next day, who are paying for this trip, and whose love and support is unparalleled, I can never thank you enough.
Thanks, thanks, thanks. All around. Thank you God for getting me here safely and keeping me safe, for opening my heart to new cultures and experiences, for keeping me grounded as I travel from one gorgeous, indescribable creation to the next, for introducing me to amazing people on the ship who will surely be dear friends for years to come, for teaching me about His world and about myself, for everything.
Had to get that out of my system, onto paper. Now I have to go study for class. Oh yeah, class. Forgot about that for a while… Somehow I’m making good grades, surely the result of the academic high I had at the beginning of the voyage, but now I need to kick it into gear before we get to Greece and I am entirely drawn into yet another beautiful land and culture.
Endless thanks,
Bonnie
Sunday, July 11, 2010
My Best Friend's Blog
In case you had any interest in reading them, or if you are my mom who asked for them, here are the addresses to my Semester at Sea roomates' and very dear friends' blogs about this summer:
Leah: rose-coloredtravels.blogspot.com
Katie: katieberrysas.blogspot.com
They are probably less sporadic with posting than I am, so check it out if you are interested.
Two Stupid Questions of the Day
On a tour of the city walls of Dubrovnik:
The tour guides says: “Here is where the prince was decapitated.”
SAS student asks: “Did he die?”
In line to exit the ship:
SAS student 1: “Where are you from?”
SAS student 2: “Hawaii.”
SAS student 1: “Do you have dual citizenship?”
Croatia Dreaming
I didn’t know I wanted a yacht until I came to Croatia. But now that I have my dreams are irrevocably altered and all of my life aspirations currently hinge on making that happen. I’m not sure how I will do it—vastly successful lawyer, fashion mogul, big time Texas oil executive, maybe I’ll be a multi platinum singer/songwriter (I did recently pen a tune to remember a popular Italian phase that rapidly swept through the shipboard community)--anything to get me back to the Adriatic, cruising on my yacht, getting a suntan.
There is, of course, so much more to Dubrovnik than yachts and crystal clear ocean. This former Yugoslavia state played host to a horrific war in the early nineties that continues to haunt its citizens. Generals from all sides are still involved in trials for war crimes, and events from that conflict continue to prevent Croatia from being a full-fledged member of the EU. This means that Croatia does not use the very simple, dollar like Euro, but utilizes the Kuna instead. My very first taste of a drastically different currency. Fun. I understand the many very logical reasons that this will never happen, but sometimes I still wish we could just all use the same language, currency, and measurement system.
I survived the different currency, but I’m ready to use the Euro again it Greece, thank you. Let me go ahead and share my initial impression of Dubrovnik. First word: Beautiful. This place is beauty realized in municipal and geographic form. If Barcelona is coastal in the way that New Orleans is coastal, then Dubrovnik is coastal in the way Nantucket meets Mediterranean Europe meets best water quality in the world meets hidden island that no one knows about just yet meets former Yugoslavia coastal. Classy, undiscovered, rich with history—ancient and recent—affordable, clean, and EVERYONE speaks English. I considered not telling anyone how great it is because I want to keep it this way, but I must share the secret. This place is amazing. Apart from the monster of a plane ride it must be from the states to get here, I can’t imagine a better place to jet off to for a coastal vacation. Of course, I haven’t been to Greece yet.
Day one.
After two long days of class on the ship between Naples and Dubrovnik, I was ready to explore the old city of Dubrovnik. Like many ancient towns in this region, Dubrovnik is distinctly divided into two parts: old and new (or at least kind of new). The old city is a 25-minute walk from the ship and is surrounded by an ancient wall. The walls of Dubrovnik are famous and absolutely worth the fee to walk. The views from the tops of these walls are the best I’ve seen yet. The border of the town that should have taken a quick 30 minutes to walk lasted an hour and a half for all the pictures we took. To look out from the walls you would see a sea of bright orange tiled roofs, some old but most new from the damage sustained in the 1991 conflict. You would see a complex series of narrow alleyways, an old harbor full of small sailboats and decades-old ferries, an ocean that is so clear you can see fish swimming thirty feet below the surface, ragged cliffs from which the brave and stupid alike dive into the sea, a clear sky, and strong sun, and lots of cats everywhere. This was my orientation to Dubrovnik. Love at first sight.
Next we thoroughly explored the interior of the old city, where you can find nickel and dime souvenir shops down the street from a Lacoste store that is a block over from Gucci. ATMs are sprinkled across the city. The roads are all paved with stone that is so smooth and pristine that you almost glide when you walk. Things can be somewhat pricy in this area, but mainly in the tourist traps that are so hard to avoid on your fist day somewhere. After this we headed to Copa Cabaña beach and relaxed for the remainder of the day.
As regrettable as it is, there does exist a bit of a sailor at shore syndrome among students on the ship when they first get into a port. This usually manifests itself in a particularly rowdy first night where some random bar or club is selected as the victim of 700 college students looking for a good time. I don’t like this effect very much. I like visiting authentic places with authentic locals where I can soak up the culture in a laid back atmosphere. But it’s hard not to go where everyone else is, and tonight they were at Fuego’s-the Latin club of Dubrovnik.
Now, through the course of this trip I have been privileged to visit some pretty amazing nightclubs. I think I’m spoiled for life. Fuego’s, however, does not make the top of my list. Not really Latin at all, but simply loud, crowded, and overrated, I would not suggest it to a friend. The worst part of the night was that the only people in the club were SASers. I love my peers on the boat, but one of the best parts of being in port is getting a taste of the country. The only people I met the entire night who were not from SAS was a group of British boys who after one round a 10 minute conversation I spent the rest of the night avoiding. Fun, right? I must not have hated it so much since I stayed until close to three, but it was time to go.
Day two.
Today a group of my favorite people on the ship and I went island hopping. I love saying that—island hopping. It feels so sophisticated and chic and so much more expensive than it actually is. In reality, we went on an old boat that carried people to three different islands and served delicious grilled whole fish and all the wine you wanted for less than the equivalent of 30 USD. It was a pretty great deal. We were able to spend the day exploring the small villages on different islands around
Dubrovnik, swimming in the gorgeous Adriatic, laying under the Mediterranean sun, and enjoying the company of fellow travelers from across the globe.
A word about the Adriatic: it is really cold; about the temperature of a freshly poured glass of ice water. I thought I was adequately conditioned for this type of water after experience floating the river in March, but I was not. Thigh high in the water was the furthest I would go before heading back to shore. Not that the temperature in any way affected my overall beach experience. Our day eventually winded down, and after fresh seafood dinner I quickly fell asleep.
Day three.
Today I had a bit of slow start, but ended up on a very small, uninhabited island within eyesight of the old city. I went with two friends from the ship-Ayisha and Andrew. I am a bit jealous of Ayisha because not only is she beautiful, but her appearance allows her to blend in easily in any number of regions. In northern Africa, she could possibly pass as Arab, in Italy she was often mistaken for being Italian, in Latin America she could pass in any country. You know that really famous photograph on the cover of National Geographic of the girl with light colored eyes and dark skin? I think that is a picture of Ayisha. Anyway, I’m very jealous of her these days because she does not stick out like the blonde haired, blue eyed, pink skinned, 5’9’’ Texan I am. Sometimes it’s nice being blonde over here, a little extra attention can be ok, but usually I’d rather not be pegged as a foreigner at first sight.
Anyway, we went to this teeny, tiny island and it was great. We were tired of beaches and wanted to do something different, and this island was wooded, had a salt water lake, nude beaches, an old fort, a monastery, tons of peacocks and hidden bungalow bars tucked away in ancient ruins. Plus, it wasn’t super popular with the day-trippers from cruise ships who stop over here for 8 hours. So basically it was paradise.
We first decided to explore the fort at the top of the island before realizing what a hike it was to get to the top.
The intense steep incline to reach this fort was close to impossible. I was wearing Haviana flip-flops. My dad would have cringed if he saw me—this is the man who would not even let me ride my bike in anything but tennis shoes. Unfortunately, I’m afraid his deference for comfortable, practical, and supportive footwear is completely lost on me. Here I was, wearing whatever clothes were still clean and a pair of yet to be broken in plastic sandals climbing a mountain on an island in Croatia all to see a fort whose historical significance I am completely ignorant of and have no desire to learn. How do I get myself into these situations?? Honestly, the hike was worth it for the view and I’m glad we did it. Until I went down. Think hiking up a hill in flip-flops is dangerous? Try hiking down without falling to your death.
Ok, mountain climbed. Time to relax on the beach. Thank goodness. Here’s when Andrew decided we really needed to go not to the beach, but to the large stones jetting out into the ocean. You know those posters they hang in waiting rooms and high school guidance councilors offices? The ones with dramatic landscape pictures that say things like “Strength” and “Determination.” These rocks, these huge, ominous looking rocks that drop off dramatically into the deep blue sea and are all but impossible to climb, would easily fit on such a poster, probably with the caption word “Perseverance” or something like that. These are beautiful to look at, but stupid to climb.
Andrew was determined to climb them though, so we did; Ayisha and I in Havianas, Andrew in new tennis shoes. Andrew is a really cool kid. At first I though he was a pessimist, but then I realized he was just from Boston. He seemed like a fairly competent climber, especially on our hike to the fort, but these slippery, wet, dangerous rocks proved to be pretty tricky. We all fell into the water at some point, and Andrew really ate it just as we reached our destination. A German family laughed as we all tripped, and poor Andrew lost a significant portion of his toe to the Adriatic. There, sitting awkwardly on the world’s least comfortable rock with no easy or safe way back to land, surrounded by sharp barnacles and deep, cold Adriatic water, I tore a page out of my journal to stop the bleeding of Andrews toe. None of us could stop laughing. We had to sit for a few minutes to pretend that the experience was worth it, and we did make it back safely under the careful watch of the amused Germans.
Finally we made it back to the ship to get ready to go out that night. There was a HUGE festival in Dubrovnik last night. I’ve been lucky, or not so lucky, if you hate crowds, to have major festivals in every port we have visited. This festival was really big. There were fireworks in the old town and lots of locals out celebrating. The buses were free tonight, and if you’ve ever wondered how many sardines they could fit into a can, or how many monkeys are nestled in a barrel, here’s a question: How many Croation’s fit into a city bus? I have no idea, but with every square inch taken up on ours, my guess would be 100. Not kidding.
We made it to the old city alive, and we drank cheap wine while we watched the fireworks by the beach. Later on in the night we headed to a beach club called East West. To my absolute euphoria, we were just about the last group of SAS kids they let in before they started turning them away. It was so nice to be in a place that was only 10 percent SAS. The other 90 percent were business moguls, locals, and world travelers. One guy we met was a very friendly and well traveled 35 year old Brit. I didn’t talk with him long, but my friends Ellie, Kara, and Krystin got to know him pretty well, and after Googling him the next morning learned he was a vastly successful businessman who had been profiled by Newsweek. Only in Dubrovnik.
Day 4
Today I slept until 11:30 for the first time this summer, read, sipped coffee and wrote this. Now I have to figure out where I am staying on Santorini. I am open to suggestions.
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| What a view |
There is, of course, so much more to Dubrovnik than yachts and crystal clear ocean. This former Yugoslavia state played host to a horrific war in the early nineties that continues to haunt its citizens. Generals from all sides are still involved in trials for war crimes, and events from that conflict continue to prevent Croatia from being a full-fledged member of the EU. This means that Croatia does not use the very simple, dollar like Euro, but utilizes the Kuna instead. My very first taste of a drastically different currency. Fun. I understand the many very logical reasons that this will never happen, but sometimes I still wish we could just all use the same language, currency, and measurement system. |
| Farmer's market. Just look at that smile. Is that a smile? |
Day one.
After two long days of class on the ship between Naples and Dubrovnik, I was ready to explore the old city of Dubrovnik. Like many ancient towns in this region, Dubrovnik is distinctly divided into two parts: old and new (or at least kind of new). The old city is a 25-minute walk from the ship and is surrounded by an ancient wall. The walls of Dubrovnik are famous and absolutely worth the fee to walk. The views from the tops of these walls are the best I’ve seen yet. The border of the town that should have taken a quick 30 minutes to walk lasted an hour and a half for all the pictures we took. To look out from the walls you would see a sea of bright orange tiled roofs, some old but most new from the damage sustained in the 1991 conflict. You would see a complex series of narrow alleyways, an old harbor full of small sailboats and decades-old ferries, an ocean that is so clear you can see fish swimming thirty feet below the surface, ragged cliffs from which the brave and stupid alike dive into the sea, a clear sky, and strong sun, and lots of cats everywhere. This was my orientation to Dubrovnik. Love at first sight.
As regrettable as it is, there does exist a bit of a sailor at shore syndrome among students on the ship when they first get into a port. This usually manifests itself in a particularly rowdy first night where some random bar or club is selected as the victim of 700 college students looking for a good time. I don’t like this effect very much. I like visiting authentic places with authentic locals where I can soak up the culture in a laid back atmosphere. But it’s hard not to go where everyone else is, and tonight they were at Fuego’s-the Latin club of Dubrovnik.
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| Fun at Fuego's |
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| Rando |
Today a group of my favorite people on the ship and I went island hopping. I love saying that—island hopping. It feels so sophisticated and chic and so much more expensive than it actually is. In reality, we went on an old boat that carried people to three different islands and served delicious grilled whole fish and all the wine you wanted for less than the equivalent of 30 USD. It was a pretty great deal. We were able to spend the day exploring the small villages on different islands around
Dubrovnik, swimming in the gorgeous Adriatic, laying under the Mediterranean sun, and enjoying the company of fellow travelers from across the globe.
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| Yum!!! |
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| Our boat's in there somewhere... |
Today I had a bit of slow start, but ended up on a very small, uninhabited island within eyesight of the old city. I went with two friends from the ship-Ayisha and Andrew. I am a bit jealous of Ayisha because not only is she beautiful, but her appearance allows her to blend in easily in any number of regions. In northern Africa, she could possibly pass as Arab, in Italy she was often mistaken for being Italian, in Latin America she could pass in any country. You know that really famous photograph on the cover of National Geographic of the girl with light colored eyes and dark skin? I think that is a picture of Ayisha. Anyway, I’m very jealous of her these days because she does not stick out like the blonde haired, blue eyed, pink skinned, 5’9’’ Texan I am. Sometimes it’s nice being blonde over here, a little extra attention can be ok, but usually I’d rather not be pegged as a foreigner at first sight.
Anyway, we went to this teeny, tiny island and it was great. We were tired of beaches and wanted to do something different, and this island was wooded, had a salt water lake, nude beaches, an old fort, a monastery, tons of peacocks and hidden bungalow bars tucked away in ancient ruins. Plus, it wasn’t super popular with the day-trippers from cruise ships who stop over here for 8 hours. So basically it was paradise.
We first decided to explore the fort at the top of the island before realizing what a hike it was to get to the top.
The intense steep incline to reach this fort was close to impossible. I was wearing Haviana flip-flops. My dad would have cringed if he saw me—this is the man who would not even let me ride my bike in anything but tennis shoes. Unfortunately, I’m afraid his deference for comfortable, practical, and supportive footwear is completely lost on me. Here I was, wearing whatever clothes were still clean and a pair of yet to be broken in plastic sandals climbing a mountain on an island in Croatia all to see a fort whose historical significance I am completely ignorant of and have no desire to learn. How do I get myself into these situations?? Honestly, the hike was worth it for the view and I’m glad we did it. Until I went down. Think hiking up a hill in flip-flops is dangerous? Try hiking down without falling to your death.
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| Perseverance. |
Andrew was determined to climb them though, so we did; Ayisha and I in Havianas, Andrew in new tennis shoes. Andrew is a really cool kid. At first I though he was a pessimist, but then I realized he was just from Boston. He seemed like a fairly competent climber, especially on our hike to the fort, but these slippery, wet, dangerous rocks proved to be pretty tricky. We all fell into the water at some point, and Andrew really ate it just as we reached our destination. A German family laughed as we all tripped, and poor Andrew lost a significant portion of his toe to the Adriatic. There, sitting awkwardly on the world’s least comfortable rock with no easy or safe way back to land, surrounded by sharp barnacles and deep, cold Adriatic water, I tore a page out of my journal to stop the bleeding of Andrews toe. None of us could stop laughing. We had to sit for a few minutes to pretend that the experience was worth it, and we did make it back safely under the careful watch of the amused Germans.
Finally we made it back to the ship to get ready to go out that night. There was a HUGE festival in Dubrovnik last night. I’ve been lucky, or not so lucky, if you hate crowds, to have major festivals in every port we have visited. This festival was really big. There were fireworks in the old town and lots of locals out celebrating. The buses were free tonight, and if you’ve ever wondered how many sardines they could fit into a can, or how many monkeys are nestled in a barrel, here’s a question: How many Croation’s fit into a city bus? I have no idea, but with every square inch taken up on ours, my guess would be 100. Not kidding.
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| Cheap wine, good friends |
We made it to the old city alive, and we drank cheap wine while we watched the fireworks by the beach. Later on in the night we headed to a beach club called East West. To my absolute euphoria, we were just about the last group of SAS kids they let in before they started turning them away. It was so nice to be in a place that was only 10 percent SAS. The other 90 percent were business moguls, locals, and world travelers. One guy we met was a very friendly and well traveled 35 year old Brit. I didn’t talk with him long, but my friends Ellie, Kara, and Krystin got to know him pretty well, and after Googling him the next morning learned he was a vastly successful businessman who had been profiled by Newsweek. Only in Dubrovnik.
Today I slept until 11:30 for the first time this summer, read, sipped coffee and wrote this. Now I have to figure out where I am staying on Santorini. I am open to suggestions.
Volcanoes, Pizza, and "Cah-pree" pants
Arriving at Naples
The train ride to Naples was an experience to say the least. In Texas we don’t have trains, so I don’t have much experience with buying train tickets. When buying this particular ticket, I had no idea what “guaranteed seat” meant. Only once I was on the train, en route to Naples, did I realize that no “guaranteed seat” meant just that—there was no seats available for me or anyone else in our group. We all had no choice but to sit on the pull down stools in the middle of the aisle of the train. Please note that this was after only one hour of sleep. I might have been a little grumpy. In the end, it was actually fun to talk and look out the window and plot our adventures in Croatia, but next time I’m paying the extra three Euros for a chair.
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| A typical parking job in Naples |
There is one word to describe my initial reaction to Naples: fear. Not to say that Naples isn’t a diverse, interesting, cultural destination, but it is scary. Together with Sicily, Naples really is still run by the mob. Anytime I told someone in Rome that I was coming here they cringed and warned me about the mob’s presence, reminding me that Naples is the murder capital of Italy. Rumor has it that most buildings in the city are especially resilient because of all of the bodies that end up in the concrete foundation. Great.
Paul, an SAS friend, strongly suggested that we walk from the train station to the port instead of taking a cab. I usually feel comfortable in these countries when there is at least one guy around, and I needed to save money, so walk we did. Through the duration of this walk I saw more trash than I did in all of Rome, passed a street vendor selling chipmunks, and someone literally grabbed my bag. I held on too tight for him to get away with it, but still! Train stations and port areas are not normally pristine locales, and I should have assumed that the 20-minute walk connecting two would be less than beautiful. Lesson learned. Next time, I’m splurging on a cab. Once safely back to the ship it was time to relax and prepare for my Mount Vesuvius hike in the morning.
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| Adorable!! Naples has at least a few chill inhabitants |
Independence Day Abroad.
July 4
Mount Vesuvius is in many ways a lot like Naples. Volatile, dangerous, and ready to erupt at any moment, the description for this active volcano could easily be used to describe any Napoleon’s fierce temper. It has for centuries served as the dramatic backdrop for this bustling city, and it is in fact due another eruption sometime soon. Exhilarating, huh? How’d you like to live in the shadow of the Mediterranean’s only active volcano? Hiking this famous volcano was really thrilling and surprisingly not challenging. To be fair, I was driven most of the way up, but the last 30 minutes were at a steep incline and I’m still calling it a hike. I mean they gave us walking sticks, so it’s got to be legit.
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| The rim of Vesuvius |
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| Look at those hikers! When I finally made it past the hoards of sweaty, shirtless Germans and was at the peak, I was amazed at the breathtaking views and the startling contrast in landscape between the mountain’s rugged top and the green vegetation a few hundred feet below. I can tour museums all day, and paintings have been known to bring me to tears, but the raw beauty of nature is still the best kind. Here we were, above the clouds on the top of a volcano that has wreaked havoc on the Mediterranean for Millennia. I’m still very disappointed that we didn’t make it over to Pompeii, but it was that or Capri, and I was ready for a beach. |
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| Ah, Capri. |
After quickly shoving a few necessities into my beach bag back at the ship, Leah and I ran to catch the noon boat to Capri. Oh Capri. The juice pouch, the pant, the island—I love them all. It’s actually pronounces “CAH-pree” I’ve learned. I feel like a poser when I say it that way thought. Can you imagine saying “Girl, I love your CAH-pree pants”? I can’t do it. I’m convinced that this gem of an island is the only reason people come to Naples, except for the pizza, but more on that later. My first impression of Capri was that I had landed in paradise. I don’t know if it is the stark contrast between the beautiful island and filthy Naples, or the fact that most of my previous experience with islands took place on Galveston, but I really loved this beautiful oasis. Bill Gates does, too. That’s right, he was there the same day as us, celebrating the 4th on his gorgeous, mammoth yacht. Once we were off of the boat Leah and I met two other kids from SAS and made it our priority to see the Blue Grotto.
The Blue Grotto is one of those rare, majestic caves in the side of ocean cliffs where the sun shines perfectly through the opening to illuminate the interior with a vivid turquoise light. It’s impossible to describe but magnificent to behold. We took a boat to get to this side of the island where we waited our turn to board a tiny, 4-person boat that skilled men carefully maneuvered through the narrow opening. This is an extremely dangerous job, and we witnessed first hand what happens when the tide gets the best of you when the man steering the boat before us crashed his head open against the rock. His head was wide open, there was blood everywhere, and the unfortunate collision was followed by lots of frustrated cursing in Italian. I think he will recover, but it was not a pretty wound. It was at this point that we realized we hadn’t signed a release form of any kind. Do they even have lawsuits in Italy? This employee might be in for some big bucks if he were back in the states. I’ve been on some pretty scary rides at amusement parks, toured some terrifying haunted houses, and engaged in plenty of activities that got my heart racing and my adrenaline pumping, but nothing, NOTHING, comes close to being as scary as going in the blue grotto behind that fresh trail of blood.
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| Blue Grotto |
We made it, but it was a close call. After that it was time for the beach. Now, a quick word about European beaches. They are great. Really, they are. I love the freedom and all, and who likes tan lines? But everything they say is true. Men almost always wear Speedos and women universally wear teeny bikinis, even if they are well over sixty and overweight. Kids under the age of ten don't really wear swimsuits at all. No judgment here. Just something different, something to get used to.
Independence Day Abroad.
Independence Day Abroad.
Today was Independence Day, so I did a lot of thinking about my home country and the perception people have of it from abroad, as well as my own changing view of it as I travel farther and farther from home. One thing is certain, I am and shall always remain fervently patriotic. I love America! Italy won my stomach, but The States have my heart. As far as my changing perspective, I can only say that I have greater sympathy for foreigners traveling to our land. I feel impossibly helpless when I cannot communicate with people and I am the one invading their country. I want to learn a new language. It’s so true that the vast majority of people in this region speak English, but it is not completely universal and the last thing I want to repeat is the game of charades I played with a clerk at the Barcelona train station while trying to buy tickets for a train that is leaving in ten minutes. Needless to say, we missed that train.
I am yet to witness any truly hateful or even strongly negative perceptions of American from abroad. Oh, I understand the bad rap American tourists get—we can be pretty ridiculous, clueless, and set in our ways—but our country and culture as a whole is amazing. It is home, so I guess I’m biased. Everyone I’ve met so far loves America and especially loves that I’m from Texas, the home of cowboys. We’ll see if that changes in some of the countries coming up on my itinerary.
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| Landry, Blair, Maegan As it turns out, most of my fellow travelers share my fierce patriotism. That is how here, on a tiny beach in tiny Capri about sixty of us materialized, cheap wine in hand, to celebrate the 4th in good American company. Bill Gates was probably watching us from his yacht. I can’t say that I feel great about being that rowdy group of American college students touring Europe, and most days I would have no part in it. But it was the 4th of July, I was on a beach, and I wasn’t even going to get fireworks. Bring on the fun. We did just that and sang the national anthem until it was time to board the last boat back to Naples. Capri is too expensive for my overnight budget, so I had to catch this boat back or I was going to be sleeping on the pebble beach. Good thing I had bought my ticket back earlier…right? Wrong. |
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| Party (not) in the USA |
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| Maegan, Me, and Leah. Reppin' the Frogs. |
It was time to board and my ticket was gone. Missing. I was a mess, dumping the contents of Leah’s backpack out onto the dock. Alas, no ticket. A friend tried to buy me another ticket at the booth, but the boat was leaving in ten minutes and the women selling tickets was on a very pressing social phone call. Oh, Italy. My friend Landry from UT offered to bribe the ticket collector, but his thick Texas accent and vernacular heavily dotted with “ya’lls” and “all ya’lls” rarely goes over well with the locals. I was stuck. In the end, there was some smiling and winking and I got/snuck on the boat. Thank the Lord. We found the ticket in Leah’s bag the next day.
Last Day in Naples
Naples, it is rumored, is the birthplace of Pizza, Gelato, and Espresso. Most of what Americans consider "Italian Food" comes from this region because so many early Italian immigrants came from Naples. It stands to reason that Naples would therefore have some pretty amazing food. I wanted to find out if this was really true.
After hunting through guidebooks for the best pizza in town, we settled on a close place called Da Michele. Unbeknownst to us, this joint has been lauded in the bestseller Eat Pray Love, visited by Samantha Brown, and written up in every Italy guidebook ever published. All that, and it is still the definitive favorite of the locals. After an hour wait, we were seated at a table and I was in heaven. There are only two choices here-Margarita or Marinara. I had a Margarita and I ate every bit of my entire pizza. I can’t say that I’ve ever done that before-but it was my last day in Italy, right? I don’t understand how something so simple can be so good and how it all can cost less than 5 Euros, but it can and it does here at Da Michele. Let me just break it down for you. If Italy is the home of the best pizza in the world and Naples has the best pizza in Italy, and I was eating at the best pizzeria in Naples, could it be that I’ve had the best pizza in the world??? Why yes, I think so.
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| YUM!!! |
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| We ate... |
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| ...and ate... |
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| ...and ate... |
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| Until... |
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| ...we had each eaten our OWN pizza pie!!! |
After that I was back to nasty, crazy, violent Naples. Our next stop was for a 2.50 purchase where I was shortchanged after I handed the cashier a twenty. The woman scamming me yelled loud and fast in Italian, but after three minutes passed and I gave her my best impression of my mom’s scary eyes, she gave me all of my change back. I didn’t even have to raise my voice. That’s all for Italy. I’m actually cheating, because I’m in Croatia right now, but I had to catch up. Tell you about Dubrovnik later.
All the best,
Bonnie
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