Toronto: To-the-Airport Travails

Flying geese, Bosque del Apache, New Mexico. November 2011.

After a splendid two weeks visiting friend Sandy in Toronto, it was time to return to the US.

Much to my friend's and my surprise, getting to the airport from downtown Toronto for an international 7:15 a.m flight requires creativity for budget travelers.

The UP train doesn't begin its daily operation until 5:30 a.m., arriving at the airport at 6:00 a.m. - far too short a time to negotiate both the transportation security maze and U.S. Customs (which occurs Canada-side for flights into the U.S.)

There used to be a downtown-airport bus which ran much earlier in the morning, but this ceased operation back in 2014.

Taxis cost about $60.

There were two options like this on craigslist's rideshare page:

Driving home from the cottage today. If you would like a FREE ride anywhere in the city, get back to me. This can be for anywhere from Barrie south to the Toronto Waterfront, even to the airport.
I will not charge for a ride, but hopefully open minded females can come up with another form of payment. Let me know if you're interested!

I chose to take the last UP train of the night preceding my departure, and just hang out at the airport til boarding time.

This would have worked out just fine if it weren't for the surprise I encountered at security. 

Toronto: Subway, Part 1

Functional art, Lawrence West Station, Toronto, Ontario, Canada. June 2016.

In Subway, Part 2, I'll describe a most startling, fantastical experience on Toronto's subway system.

But for now, I want to share this bit of functional art at the Lawrence West Station that I still find so seductive.

There's both symmetry and asymmetry. Circles, loops, parallel lines, squares, vertical seams, and that line and pedestal of red at the bottom. There's wood, cement, metal, wiring. There's cold and warmth. Monochrome and color. Matte and shine.

This is art. 

Washington, D.C.: Uber Virgins

A vintage Lada in Batumi, Georgia. April 2012.

Neither Suzanne nor I had tried Uber before.

My visit to DC was the perfect opportunity to try it out. Here's why:

1. Suzanne has a car, but finding a parking spot can be a hassle. Not to mention traffic snarl headaches that diminish the pleasure of the outing.
2. Suzanne lives a few blocks from a metro station, but D.C. was conducting major work on its metro lines, resulting in challenging connections at times. 

Using Uber was great, in fact. I think we took advantage three times. Payment is automatic via the charge card info the Uber user enters when creating an account, so when we arrived at our destinations, we just said thank you and hopped out of the car. We always knew what the charge would be before confirming our "order."

Suzanne and I could chat while the Uber driver did his thing, not having to care about the traffic around us or where the hell to find an open parking space. We could both enjoy a couple of glasses of wine, knowing we'd have someone else driving us back our doorstep at the end of the evening.

With the exception of one rather taciturn driver, all of the drivers were personable. But even the quieter guy was fine - he got us where we wanted to go safely and expeditiously.

Suzanne told me she wouldn't feel comfortable using Uber alone. Although I haven't had occasion to use it since my trip to D.C., I'd feel fine using Uber by myself.

Washington, D.C.: Arrival

Metro escalator up into D.C. June 2016.

The pick-up

I arranged with Suzanne that upon arrival in D.C., I'd take the metro from the airport to the Metro Center stop, then she'd pick me up in front of the National Portrait Gallery after she got off work.

Escalator memories

Emerging from the belly of the metro, into the light of the capital, it made me smile. There was the appreciation that I'd arrived, of course.


In 2007, a metro stop, don't remember which one, had a "singing escalator." Something to do with the mechanics of this escalator's movement up or down + the acoustics in its surrounding tube created an enthralling musicality that might come from a flute or maybe a high-note string instrument.

In the early 1990s, when my daughter was about 13, I brought her to D.C. with me for a business trip. It was she who had to figure out how to get our metro tickets. Decades later, the metro now has cards, and I needed the assistance - again - of someone to get the process sorted.

Daughter in D.C. The Sulky Years. Circa 1992.

And I never think about D.C. without remembering the priceless photo of said daughter as she shot heat-seeking-missile eyes at her mother during a turbulent moment. Ah, the adolescent years.

The Chinese encounter

I had time to kill before Suzanne picked me up, and I was thirsty. I went into a McDonald's, which was hopping. I ordered my drink and found a table, where I intended to nurse the drink and establish my "customers only" qualification to use the restroom.

A small, spare woman sat next to me and I smiled at her. This opened a door, apparently, through which she bounded into my "house," as if we were best childhood friends who hadn't seen each other in years. However, she was originally from China and spoke very little English, and I, of course spoke only one word of Mandarin "ni hao" - hello.

But suddenly we were both looking at our smart phone translators to have a conversation. She took a selfie of us. At first, it was fun! Then she wanted to tap our phones together to exchange contact information. Yikes! Wait! What? Am I a mullet in D.C. and about to be sucked into some scam designed to relieve me of my money? Even if not, this relationship was getting a little too intense for me, so it was time for me to go.

I still have my version of our selfie, though.

A Visit to Washington, D.C.: Preview

On the White House Lawn for Queen Elizabeth's visit. 2007.

The spring/summer of 2016 has been the season for hip-hoppity travel before going to my next year-long sojourn in a new home.

• April: Antigua, Guatemala
• May: Longmont, Colorado
• June: Washington, DC and Toronto
• July: South Louisiana
• August: Missouri

Dentist's office. Washington, D.C. 2007

At this point in my 2016 story, then, I've left Colorado, spent a bit of time in Missouri, and am now off to Washington, D.C.

In Antigua, I stayed at an airbnb. In Colorado, I nested with my sister, Murphy. In both these places, I had my own bedroom and own bath. Shared a kitchen and common living area.

While in DC, a very expensive place to live, I was right cozy with my friend, "Suzanne," who lived in a studio-plus apartment. I say "plus" because it has a generous balcony and a large closet/storage area. Before I forget, she may also have one of the best showers I've ever enjoyed. Not because of its design or size, but because of the perfection of its water pressure and the massage-like, needle-y rays of water from the shower head.

Off of U Street. Washington, D.C. 2007

Staying a week with Suzanne in D.C. (more technically, Bethesda, Maryland) and then two weeks with friend, "Rachel," in Toronto's city center, was an illuminating experience in living with another person in compact quarters, as a guest and not a resident.

For one, it speaks volumes that my hostesses welcomed me into their petite homes for a week and two weeks, respectively. This was generosity extraordinaire on their parts. Sharing a bathroom, kitchen, air and floor space for a sustained period when normally they've got such precious real estate all to themselves - I don't take this for granted.

For me, it was an excellent practice in the art of being a good guest (hopefully), by respecting the hostesses' preferences for where to place things, cleaning up, etc. There are also the questions of lights-out times and getting-up times.

Murky Coffee. Washington, D.C. 2007

And keys. In apartment buildings, the sharing of one's keys with a guest demonstrates a great deal of trust in the recipient's reliability. Replacement keys can be mighty expensive. And even if they're replaced, it is disconcerting to think of a little piece of your household floating about lost in the unknown.

... But getting back to D.C. in particular. I've been to the city a number of times in the past, thus have visited the usual tourist spots. My agenda for this trip was simply to flow with Suzanne's river, without any destination expectations.

The week I visited coincided with the DC Jazz Festival - cool! Suzanne and I checked that out. More on this later.

We visited the United States Botanical Garden. More later.

Fessenden blooms. Washington, D.C. 2007

Suzanne and I tried out Uber for the first time, and then a second and third time. More on this later.

And since it seemed the summer was shaping up to be a jazz-themed season, we also checked out an Ethiopian-American jazz club. More later.

The photos in this article are from prior trips to D.C.

Metro art. Washington, D.C. 2007

Lake Atitlan, Guatemala: Getting There

One of the reasons I chose to visit Guatemala over Rwanda was Lake Atitlan.

It seemed fated for me to go there, ever since I saw this photo a number of years ago:

A rental place along Lake Atitlan, Guatemala.

When I saw this photo, I envisioned myself and some friends staying for a month. Having drinks on the lakeview terrace. Que rico!

Also, one of my brothers had visited Lake Atitlan many years ago and he'd loved it.

Going to Lake Atitlan requires some decision-making.

First up is to decide where to base yourself. This is because there are several villages lakeside, in addition to the large tourist town of Panajachel.

If you want an active ("active" being a relative term) night scene and a good selection of restaurants, cafes, and shopping, then Panajachel is the best option. I didn't want any of those things, so I looked over the village scenarios. Now the decision driver for me was a good place to stay. "Good" meaning budget-priced, comfortable, and hopefully a good view.

A new acquaintance in Antigua recommended two places, both of which sounded luxuriously delightful, but way over my budget.

I pored over all of the options I was able to find electronically, and settled on La Iguana Perdida, an enhanced hostel on the lake, immediately adjacent to the public dock that is below the village of Santa Cruz.

I chose a private room with a shared bath. The rate was spectacularly affordable. My room had a "lake view." Heheheheh. "Lake view." Heheheheheh. Thank goodness I have a sense of humor.  More on that later. No worries, though, I was very happy with my room.

But let me back up to how I got to Santa Cruz from Antigua.

Assuming you don't have your own vehicle, there are several options, which I'll categorize into: 

1. Cheap
2. Economical
3. Pricey

If money isn't an issue, then by all means, I'd book a shuttle that picks me up at my Antiguan accommodations and then takes me to whatever doorway I want along Lake Atitlan.

If I'm on a backpacker shoestring budget and I haven't yet filled my lifetime quota of before-light departures on a sardine-packed bus that requires being dropped off in one town and finding another bus to take me the rest of the way to Panajachel, then I'd go with the cheap option. A possible itinerary here (response 2) and a story here.

Or you could do what I did, which was to opt for the economical. I think there was a bit of bait and switch in my situation, but you know, it all worked out just fine. My Spanish teacher clued me in to it. I went to the bakery across the street from La Bodegona supermarket, bought a round trip bus ticket from the gentleman who manned the table just inside the bakery entrance. Don't remember the price, but it was easily within my budget. I was given the impression by both my Spanish teacher and the ticket agent that this was a special bus, along the lines of a Greyhound, for example. Subsequent research tells me that in the past, it was the so-called "pullman bus," but my experience mirrored what many others have experienced, which was that the bus was actually a chicken bus.

The departure arrangements were to be at the bakery at 7 a.m. and we'd take the bus from there. Well ... not so fast.

At 7 a.m., the selling agent escorted us for a longish walk to the chicken bus lot alongside the artisanal market, to a particular chicken bus. Was I happy? No, I was not. It felt very bait-and-switch. I asked a few pointed, irritated questions, and then just let it go, choosing to bank righteous high dudgeon for some future event instead.

Chicken bus, Antigua, Guatemala. April 2016.

And as I said above, it all worked out OK. The bus was a direct run to Panajachel, so no tranfers needed. Did we stop and go a few times to pick up riders and drop off riders? Sure, but that's the economics of the business. Everyone needs to earn a living, including bus drivers, bus attendants, and the bus owners.

Food vendor on bus from Antigua to Panajachel, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

When we stopped for gas, a couple of food vendors boarded to sell road food. I didn't buy anything, but I did engage in some free ogling.

The trip was uneventful.

I got dropped off in Panajachel at the end of this bus' line and told to remember where the drop-off was because this is where I'd get the return bus when I left Panajachel a few days hence.  

From here I walked down to the docks to pick up a small, blue launch that would carry me across the lake to La Iguana Perdida in Santa Cruz.

Given my poor directional skills, you might wonder how I found my way down to the docks. This is a fair question. I muddled my way via verbal instructions, a so-so map, and following some other tourists who seemed to know where they were going.

Antigua, Guatemala: Traffic

Pizza cavalry, Antigua, Guatemala. April 2016.

There's a lot of traffic in Antigua.

Tuk-tuks, chicken buses, mini-buses, vans, cars, trucks, horse-and-carriages, bicycles, motorcycles. Add to that flocks of schoolkids in the mornings, over the noon hour, and in the late afternoon, tourists, local folks, and vendors coming in from the countryside, all negotiating the narrow, treacherous sidewalks on foot.

Street congestion in Antigua, Guatemala. April 2016.

A taste of one portion of 7th Avenue in the video below:

And another road here:

Chicken buses and tuk-tuks at the Santa Lucia Church square here:

The word on the street is that the current mayor intends to limit non-resident motor traffic within Antigua. Residents will get a permit; others will have to park their vehicles out of the city center. A February 2016 article on this idea is here.

Paris slashed vehicular traffic in 2015 on special days, opening up the broad ways to pedestrians. Impressive before and after videos in the article here.

How lovely this would be in Antigua.

Antigua, Guatemala: The Inevitable Chicken Bus Post

Chicken buses, Antigua, Guatemala. April 2016.

What's a chicken bus

I'm going to turn it over to other writers to tell you all about the Guatemalan chicken buses.

• Retired in America, Reborn in America (2013) - New York Times review of a documentary on the buses
• A Chicken Bus Adventure From Antigua to Lake Atitlan (2016) - I also took a chicken bus to Lake Atitlan, but my story is different. Forthcoming. 
• Chicken Bus (wikipedia)

Chicken buses, Antigua, Guatemala. April 2016.

Here's the movie trailer for the documentary:

My little chicken bus story

I took a chicken bus to and from Lake Atitlan. The experience was similar to what I had in Ethiopia (here and here are two examples) in that the bus driver has a helper to: 

• Hang out the door and call for potential passengers; 
• Collect money; 
• Load luggage; 
• Generally maintain some order on the bus; and
• Run speedily to streetside vendors to get himself or the driver something to drink or eat. 

Chicken buses, Antigua, Guatemala. April 2016.

Yup, the bus goes pretty fast and the bus seats are slippery, so as the bus takes hairpin turns, passengers slide from one side of the bench seat to another, depending on the direction of the curve. The fun of this wears off quickly.

Chicken buses, Antigua, Guatemala. April 2016.

I did not experience the packed-til-overflowing situation described in the scenarios above. Maybe Guatemala has a similar situation as in Ethiopia, where the "class" of the bus, i.e. 1st or 2nd class - and the price of the ticket - brings certain expectations of how many people are allowed in the bus, the conditions of the interior, and the number of stops.

Chicken buses, Antigua, Guatemala. April 2016.

Below is a video I took outside Santa Lucia Church in Antigua, in which chicken buses and tuk-tuks star:

OK, now don't get me wrong on what I'm about to say. The chicken buses - the camionetas - are part of what makes Guatemala Guatemala. They are beautiful - like tropical birds of paradise. The camioneta system seems to meet the needs of Guatemalans and visitors. And what an elegant way to recycle school buses.

But damn, these buses hurtle through the narrow cobblestone streets of Antigua, farting great black odiferous clouds of exhaust, and being generally noisy.  

Caucasus Georgia: Trains

Kukushka, Borjomi, Caucasus Georgia

It was in Caucasus Georgia that I first slept on a train. If you think it might be cool to lie on a bed, being gently shaken, while looking at a full moon through the window as you pass by a dark landscape, you'd be right.

I present for you some scenes from Georgian trains.


Traveling from Zugdidi to Tbilisi:

Correction for above - hey, that's not a scene from a train, it's a scene from a marshrutka. But what the hey, it shows off Georgian countryside and has a pretty song in the background. My companions and I did take a train from Tbilisi to Zugdidi (and then a marshrutka to the legendary Svaneti), and it was even an overnight train, but where the visual evidence of that might be? Somewhere in the archives. I'll hunt for it another day.


From Borjomi to Bakuriani on the kukushka:

Another leg of the Borjomi to Bakuriani trip, including whistle and bridge crossing:

My friend, Sandy, and I took the overnight train between Batumi and Tbilisi one weekend:

Train from Batumi to Tbilisi, Caucasus Georgia

The Louisiana Mule

Louisiana mules at ye olde hitching post.

Credit Card Slut?

Photo credit: Public Domain

Two seductive invitations in two days:

1. Air Trans is offering me two round trip tickets if I charge $2000 in the first three months of using its card.
2. Delta Airlines is offering me 35,000 miles if I charge $750 in my first three months of using its card

Well, I'm pissed at Delta because it charged me for a piece of checked baggage on a technicality when I flew between Istanbul and St. Louis. The employee could have used his discretion, but no he didn't, citing the fact that the travel agency had booked two separate tickets: one from Istanbul to New York and another from New York to St. Louis. So even though I had free checked baggage on the international leg, I got zinged for the NY to STL leg. ... I'm getting irritated all over again just writing about it, the assholes. So, no, Delta, I'm not going to accept your offer. You did me wrong back in July.

So .... two round trip tickets? I have no grudge against Air Tran. I'll have to crunch some numbers. See, the thing is, although two round trip tickets somewhere sounds nice, there are collateral costs that come with a trip that maybe I hadn't planned on taking.

But now that my head has been turned (sorry Chase), I've a mind to see what else is being offered out there.

We've already established I can be bought, now it's just a matter of negotiating the price.

Taking a Budget Road Trip

I've done up a new page on how to plan for a budget road trip here.

Or better yet: just look up toward the blog title and click on the page tab that says "Taking a Budget Road Trip." 

From my Louisiana road trip in December:

What are your tips for a great budget road trip?

Kansas City 2010 Trip Report: Day 3

In January 2010, my mother and I took the train to Kansas City, Missouri. This is part 2 of our trip report, which includes comments from our original trip-report recipients. 

Kansas City, City Market

MZURI'S REPORT
 

Tuesday, we visited Steamboat Arabia, which is within the City Market.

In brief: Steamboat sank in Missouri River in mid-century 1800s. All contents still within, tho all humans escaped. River course changed. Boat encased in muck and mud til 1990, when museum owners dug it out. Contents preserved and on display. Sort of a snapshot in time of everyday items - many totally new at the time, as they'd been intended for mercantile stores along the river route.

I'm not all that interested in all of the minutia arrayed in the museum, although there is power in the sheer quantities of like items, e.g. boots, nails, buttons, coats, tools, etc. The thing that I like is that the individuals who unearthed all of this are still a daily part of the museum, and they introduce themselves to visitors. Also, the docent is very knowledgeable about the dig and the museum contents. I was especially interested in talking at some length with one of the textile preservationists.

There was a bit of an incident when Carol was talking to one of the museum owners, one of the men who led the whole adventurous gamble of the dig. The boat was in a field owned by a local judge (a mile south of Parkville). Carol asked about legal threats to the ownership of the boat's contents, to which the museum owner replied there were none. Carol noted that it was likely a good thing the landowner was a judge and not  "an ignorant ..... " at which time my hand suddenly, without any warning to me, shot out and struck her thigh. Carol and the gentleman looked startled, and Carol asked, "what, were you worried what I was going to say next?" I allowed as how, yes, I was. Carol asked what I thought she was going to say, and I said I didn't know, but whatever it was, it probably wasn't going to be good.

Carol might have been really angry except that only moments before, the museum owner had exclaimed that she couldn't possibly be old enough to be my mother. So Carol was like a lion who'd just eaten, willing to let small prey live.

Kansas City, City Market

I liked the City Market. There seems to have been some effort by the powers-that-be to ensure some interesting diversity there. The restaurants include: Italian, middle eastern, Vietnamese, Ethiopian, Indian, Mexican, Chinese, and American. We lunched at the middle eastern place; Carol had a chicken gyros and I had a lamb/beef one. She had a great salad with feta, olives, etc. and I had hummus with my gyros.

I picked up fresh dates at the middle eastern market, ginger at the Vietnamese market, and berbere spice at the Ethiopian restaurant. Carol picked up a used book at Auntie Em's, an antique store.

CAROL'S REPORT
 

When the gentleman said I didn't look old enough to be Mzuri's mother I was wearing the red coat.  [See Chicago trip reports for red coat reference.]

Mzuri punched my leg; it startled me and I knew she was cautioning me to watch my rhetoric which puzzled me, but am getting used to my children expecting some untoward remark made by me.  Beekeeper [Carol's 4th son] even asked me to refrain from sighs at his son's recent concert.  Anyway Mzuri explained later that she thought I was going to say "ignorant farmer" instead of what I did say which was ignorant person.  By the way, the group responsible for digging up the boat were a father and his two sons all in the family air conditioning business.  The City Market was unique - as Mzuri said many cultures and native food choices present.
 

My passport card was Discover.  Today, the Art Museum.

EMAIL RESPONSES TO DAILY LOG:


FROM LABARQUE:
I love these reports. They are great escapes. Thanks for sharing them. ....I especially enjoy the two different reports.  I love Mom's clarifications.  It's the difference in the two perspectives that I find the must humorous and interesting.

Kansas City 2010 Trip Report, Days 1 and 2

In January 2010, my mother and I took the train to Kansas City, Missouri. This is part 1 of our trip report, which includes comments from our original trip-report recipients. 

Kansas City, WWI Museum, in the trenches.

MZURI'S REPORT

Our train arrived at Kansas City's Union Station on Sunday afternoon. There'd been bit of a snafu about the tickets, but we straightened all of this out when we arrived.

While at the Union Station, we had lunch at the Harvey HouseDiner, where I was accosted by a Monte Cristo sandwich (who knew?). Carol had an always-reliable reuben. As to "who knew"? Carol evidently knew, but as she'd also been assaulted by one in the past, I think she felt secretly gleeful to witness another's demise. After I'd placed my order and the server had left, she did ask coyly, "Have you ever had a Monte Cristo?" Look it up. Shows the importance of clear writing; specifically, where the word "fried" sits in the description.

We're staying at Residence Inn Downtown/Union Hill. Very pleasant, like a studio apartment. Free shuttle service within five-mile radius. Free breakfast. Free light dinner Mondays through Wednesdays. 

Kansas City, WWI Museum, in the trenches.

Yesterday, Monday, we went to the Liberty Memorial/WWI Museum. Very impressive museum. The trenches were especially vivid due to the visual design and the audios of soldiers' descriptions of their experiences in the trenches. There was a great movie that bridged the European and American sections. The movie displayed on a corridor-length wall that overlooked a battlefield diorama below. Exceptionally well-done.  One enters the museum proper by walking on a glass bridge that overlooks a "field" of 9000 poppies.

Kansas City, WWI Museum. Glass walkway over field of poppies.

Carol's father, WWI soldier

[Note: The WWI Museum has particular interest for Carol, as her father fought in that war. He didn't like to talk about his experience there, but he made it clear the war was horrific.]

 

We enjoyed a quite respectable lunch at the Over There Cafe at the museum.

In late afternoon, a former colleague of mine came by for a visit. Carol joined in for awhile, and then Donna and I went to The Brick , funkyish little bar for its Monday-night Rural Grit Happy Hour. Rural Grit is a sort-of open mic deal. Music is roots, americana, bluesy/jazzy, folksy whatever kind of stuff. Some was great, some was ok, some interesting, and some godawful. Cool vibe there, though.

Weather dreary, but as with Chicago, there is a vast difference between vacationing in KC in dismal weather versus the Lake of the Ozarks. Vast. 

[Note: A week-long stay at Lake of the Ozarks the previous year, during the winter, was deadly. Dead. Ly. Nothing to do except visit the outlet mall. In Chicago there's plenty to do regardless of weather.]


CAROL'S REPORT 
 

Accurately reported by Mzuri.  While the experience has been enjoyable, engrossing and educational I feel as if we have  been here for about a week which makes the trip very economical.  The weather, even tho gray and foggy, is mild and we walk from our second floor "suite" in the fourth building to the reception room where breakfast buffet is set up and a roaring fire and newspaper cheers us up as we enjoy the vittles.  Kansas City, Missouri, seems newer than St. Louis which, of course, is true...smaller also.  After touring the Steamboat Arabia today, we plan to find a tour bus or city bus and see more of the city.  The Residence Inn provides us with shuttle service within a five-mile perimeter which makes it only a cell phone call away at any time up to 9 PM.  By the way, the National WW1 Museum was wonderful - one of a kind as far as scope is concerned.



EMAIL RESPONSES TO DAILY LOG:


FROM SHILO GIRL:

LOL.  I have heard the Monte Cristo sandwich story before.  And I believe Mom ordered it twice.  The second time to give it another chance.  I think she was enticed by the picture of the sandwich on the wall of the restaurant (in the Ameristar complex).  Humorous to hear, not so to have been the recipient of the sandwich.

 

I can picture her internally enjoying the whole deal with you, from order, to presentation, to finally the first bite!  What a hoot!  She can be so sly.

 

Sounds like you are experience some promising "must-sees" for a future trip for me!

FROM STORMY:

So very happy to receive your "report". I was having withdrawal symptoms.

Happy travels girls!

FROM JACK:
Enjoying the travelogue.  I am uncertain about references to Lake Ozark and Chicago.  I know Chicago had a snowstorm while you were there. Sounded cold and oppressive, but survivable apart from the bus drivers.  How do the three compare?  Was Lake Ozark the worst or best under these circumstances?  Anyway, enjoying immensely.  Carry on people.

Istanbul: Heybeliada Island

Istanbul. Heybeliada Island.

Heybeliada Island: A highlight of my time in Istanbul.

The island is one of several in the group of islands called Princes' Islands. No cars on any of them. Transportation by foot, bicycle, and horse-drawn carriages. I did see a couple of motorized bikes which seemed to be powered by propane.

Incredibly, you can take the ferry to the islands for 2 lira or less (less if you've got the refillable metro card or button) each way. If you hop on-off the ferry at more than one island, then you'll pay for each leg. But still a fantastic bargain.

I selected Heybeliada Island for my journey because, based on my research, it seemed a little less crowded than the most popular (and largest) island of Büyükada.

Before getting on the ferry, I picked up a sandwich with boiled eggs, cucumber, tomato, and a little cheese. Got this from a vendor standing right in front of the ferry building entrance. Only 3 lira, another bargain. It was simple and good.

We made three stops before arriving at Heybeliada. The first was at a pick-up point on Istanbul's Asian side; the second and third were two of the Princes' Islands, which were packed with sunbathers and swimmers on the shores, as seen in the video below:

Got off at Heybeliada and immediately went to the strip of restaurants and stores behind the shore-front businesses. While I caught my bearings in the cool shade of a pocket park's trees, I consumed this:

Yes, it was the same delicious chocolate ice cream bar I'd enjoyed back here.

I checked out the horses in the carriage yard, thinking to take the grand tour for 50 lira.

Unlike the poor wretches in Nazret, the horses here looked reasonably healthy. In fact, Turks must love horses, given the number of kisses I saw bestowed on them by Turkish men and boys.

I took a look at a horse being re-shod. Later, I discovered that tire tread is attached to the traditional horseshoes. Good or bad? I don't know.

Istanbul. Heybeliada Island.

Istanbul. Heybeliada Island.

I signed on for the grand tour around the island at 50 lira, which was about $28. It was lovely, well worth the cost. Would be very romantic for a couple.

Two videos of my ride below. Understandably, they're a bit shaky. I like hearing the accompanying sounds.

During my ride, I saw: 

• Shady pine woods that invite you to lay out a cloth, stretch out on the soft bed of pine needs, and have a picnic; 
• Change-out of our horses at the top of the island;
• Old-style houses that overlooked the sea, set within colorful courtyard gardens; and
• Sea views of nearby islands  

If I were to ever come this way again, I'd spend two nights on this island. I'd walk up the hill through the pine forest and have that picnic. I'd get my provisions at one of the many fruit and vegetable shops in the town center. I'd rent a bike for a few hours and tool around. I'd sit on a hillside or a balcony and look out at the water. 

As it was, I went for lunch, choosing a plain cheese omelet that was a little heavy on the oil (a similar culinary malady suffered in Georgia), but with a good, pungent white cheese. And no harassing waiter. 

I looked into some shops and then moseyed my way to the ferry dock (after a side trip to a WC) where I discovered I'd arrived just in time to board. Sometimes life just works out that way. 

A slide show below:





On the ferry ride back to Istanbul proper, the ferry was packed. (I can only imagine what it must be like on a weekend.) No seat for me, the price one pays for choosing Heybeliada Island instead of Buyukada Island, which is at the beginning of the return route to Istanbul (and Heybeliada the 2nd). I was lucky to find a spot on the floor of the uppermost deck. I had a front row view of a dramatic row between some passengers and the ferry crew, about what I have no idea. It broke up an otherwise dull ride.

What would world travel be without inexplicable but riveting arguments on the street or in public transport? Especially when bystanders add their 2 lira, lari, or birr.

Istanbul: The Scream

Istanbul: Pierre Loti Hill

TLG colleague, Mariani, is in Istanbul for a month for a CELTA course. Another colleague, Hannah (from Missouri, by the way), stopped by to visit on her way back to the U.S.

Going up

We got together on a Saturday evening and made our sweaty way up to Pierre Loti Hill, the terminus of one of Istanbul's funiculars. Didn't get good instruction from the info office next to the Istanbul Gar, so instead of taking a ferry up the Golden Horn to the Eyup Mosque complex (because the ferry had finished for the day), we boarded a crowded bus, then walked around the Mosque area to stand in line for 45 minutes to take the cable car (funicular) up the hillside (all in the interest of the experience, yes?)

Istanbul: Pierre Loti Hill

Note: If you're only going to be in Istanbul for a few days, try to avoid coming on Saturday and Sunday. The weekends are crowded with both domestic and international tourists. In a city of 13 million, that's a lotta domestic tourists.  

Istanbul: Pierre Loti Hill

The view of Istanbul, laid out below the hill, is impressive. We had some drinks at the Pierre Loti cafe, then moved on up the winding cobblestone path around the cafe toward the summit. Lo, there are a number of cafes with beautiful views.

There is an old cemetery that hugs the hillside and it's pretty to look down at Istanbul and its curving waterway from the perspective of the white gravestones.

Istanbul: Pierre Loti Hill

We stopped briefly at a neighborhood party featuring girls and women dancing. Several adolescent boys wore red, silk-like capes with white stars and crescents. Significance unknown. I asked Mustafa, my hotel host, if he knew. Nope. 

Going down

Time to make our way down the hill. We had several options and we chose a side street that seemed more or less headed in the right direction, i.e. down.

Istanbul: Pierre Loti Hill

Because both Mariani and Hannah are from TLG's Group 22 (I'm from 21), and because this group enjoys some notoriety for its we'll-laugh-later misadventures, the odds were good this choice would result in some sort of adventure.

On the way down the hill, we made a couple of directional choices, each designed to carry us closer to the water below. In one very narrow lane on a steep incline, we saw an elderly woman looking out her window, a man coming up, a man going down. Hannah, I, and Mariana were strung out a bit in a line, in that order.

Istanbul: Pierre Loti Hill

We came upon a deep staircase, meaning it plunged down a long way, it was steep, and the steps were rather high. There was an iron-pipe banister on the right; a wall alongside the left. One of the men who'd passed us, with a purple shirt, was inexplicably stalled on one of the steps, looking meditatively out toward the picturesque vista, desultorily picking at his nose.

I wondered momentarily what he was doing there, but passed him by as I continued my way down the stairs. Hannah had preceded me.

The scream

All of a sudden - Mariana screamed! A healthy, high-pitched scream!

My first thought - she was falling down the steep staircase and I grabbed on to the banister firmly to break both our falls.

My second thought - that purple-shirted guy had stolen her bag! Because as I turned to face Mariani, I saw him running up the steps away from us!

It was neither of those things.

The purple-shirt guy had reached under Mariana's ass and given it a firm and thorough grope. And then ran like the wind.

Once the shock was over, we laughed. The jerk.

A good lesson

The thing is that all three of us noted the purple-shirt guy just standing there on the steps. All three of us thought it was a little odd. All three of us are smart women.

And all three of us failed to take any action based on that perception of oddness, such as calling out to the others to stay alert because of the guy, or to stop and wait for the guy to move down or upward, putting him on alert that he'd been caught out for something, giving him the eyeball all the while passing him to, again, let him know he'd been caught out. Or taking his photo before passing him. 

Maybe because there were three of us, we were lulled into a false sense of security.

... and then we missed the bus

As the sun completed its setting business, we walked along a waterside park. We sat for awhile on a bench. We wound our way back through the Eyup Mosque complex, passing by gravestones beautifully lit.  Had a relaxing dinner.

Istanbul: Eyup Mosque

Who knew the buses in the Eyup neighborhood stopped running by 11:30? We didn't, so after some confusing conversations with various people, we took a taxi to Emininou, where I could hop a tram back to my place and Mariani and Hannah could take one to their neighborhood near Taksim.

Istanbul: Eyup Mosque

Istanbul: Day 1: Landing

Yeni Hotel, Istanbul.

Yeni Hostel


Snafu at the Ataturk Airport. Didn't get picked up as arranged, so took a taxi to Yeni Hotel, which agreed - without hesitation - to pay the difference between what the taxi charged me and what I would have paid the hotel. I liked that.

The taxi got lost on the way to the hotel, and I'm glad I gave him the phone number before we took off from the airport so he could call the place on occasion. Plus ask various bystanders.

I also liked that the hotel let me check into my room early. I enjoyed a cup of coffee in the hotel's cozy lounge while I waited. 

And I liked that even before I got into said room, the mgt told me they'd be moving me to a different room for the rest of my stay, as there was construction going on outside my room. A new metro station.


Good wifi. 

Yeni Hotel, Istanbul

Pleasant room, lots of light, although that's a mixed blessing in Istanbul's heat. A floor fan. Decent wardrobe and desk. Blinding white sheets and good bath towel. Good-quality sliders (shoes) for room and bath.

Yeni Hotel, Istanbul

Gigantic shower (the size of a room!) with good hot water, plenty of hooks. Toilet is fine. Sink is outside WC. In fact, the WC and sink were just outside my room, so it was almost like having them en suite.

The hotel/hostel - I get confused about which is it - is owned by two brothers and their two sons. The father-son pairs switch off day-to-day operations, each taking several-day shifts. The hotel is over 100 years old.

Yeni Hotel, Istanbul

There's a spiral staircase with marble steps that are worn in the center edges from so much foot traffic.

Headache 

A dull headache plagued me all day. Bummer.


Money

Before I left Georgia, I contacted my financial institution to notify them I'd be in Turkey and asked that they check things on their end to make sure I wouldn't have any unhappy surprises on my end. I'd read that Turkey has an unfortunate reputation for bank card scams, and U.S. financial institutions get a little nervouse when they see transactions coming out of Turkey.

I went down to an ATM to get some money and damned if I didn't run into a problem. Fortunately, this ATM was just outside its bank, and I went inside and got help from a bank staffer. He made sure I used the machine on the right instead of the left, as apparently the one on the left really didn't like dispensing lira, preferring instead, euros or dollars. Also, it didn't want to give me the amount I requested, so I went for a lower amount. Communication, ATMs, communication, what, do you think we can read your minds when you've got a problem? Just telling me a transaction is not possible "at this time" is unhelpful. Sheesh.

I relieved myself of a hefty wad of Turkish lira for my three-week hotel stay, then after a nap to (hopefully, but unsuccessfully, rid myself of the headache), I ventured out again.

The hotel mgt had already proven itself to me, despite the airport pick-up issue, that it believed it important to keep guests happy, thus I felt relaxed about paying the full amount up front.


Venturing out

Often there's a pull between the "should" of doing something versus the desire to just be in a place. The benefit of being in a place for three weeks is that there's plenty of time for both.

I did go out and poke around. Walked down to the water. Walked through some narrow streets. Had lunch.

Istanbul bride and groom

I saw the same birds one sees in Georgia almost every day: a newly-married couple. In this case, it was a bride and groom at a gas station, and the bride was inserting herself and her immense dress into a small car.

Trams

So far, the biggest cool factor for me are the so-called modern trams. It's difficult for me to tell the difference between the funiculars (I find this word so annoying. Shouldn't this be the name for some sort of waffle cone, really?) and a train and a 'modern' tram, but whatever. The cool thing is they're riding on the street just like a train. On narrow streets. With two tracks, one for each way. With lots of people right, right, right next to them.

Istanbul from Red River Restaurant

Transportation song

Istanbul is a people-moving city. Trams, ferries, taxis, cars, buses, subways, trains, and feet. There are 13 million residents of Istanbul - given the number of tourists I've seen in what is the low season, that's a lot of DNA swirling about.

I wonder if in a million years there won't be a layer of mammalian slough-off, just as there's a layer of paleo-soil from way back. Skin, spit, and other bodily effluvia. We will one day be oil.

This video has the sights and sounds of Istanbul traffic. 

I went down to the water - the Bosphorus - and watched the ferry traffic.

Istanbul, Bosphorus

Vendors sold roasted or boiled corn on the cob, roasted nuts, mussels, fish, and other sundries.

Istanbul, mussels and lemons

I had lunch at the Red River restaurant. Go figure.

Not bad. A cheese/basil wrap.

Istanbul

A shower

The shower. There's something about taking a shower in an immense room that is so luxurious. The feeling, not the room. Plenty of hot water. Nice.


A slide show of Day 1 in Istanbul below: