Googling or Spying?

A few days after I met Liam (yes, during a kickball happy hour in Washington D.C.) I found myself thinking about him at work. I suppose in the days before the internet, people found ways to gather info on a new crush or love interest, but I'm positive nothing back then was as comprehensive as what the internet can do for us now.

I typed in his name into Google, feeling a bit like a voyeur, and up came a list of results. I discovered that he had written an article about sleeping on the Great Wall of China. His soccer stats from Yale popped up. The more I read, the more I wanted to know ... and the more I felt a bit like a spy.

Of course, a few dates later when I mentioned something about sleeping on the Great Wall (a story he had never shared with me) my game was up. I had been caught doing a background check. He then returned the favor and dug up some embarrassing little treasures from my past, including a poorly written article I had done for my study abroad program in Cannes and my field hockey stats ("You only scored 12 goals your senior year? Slump?").

For better or worse, Google has changed not only the way we gather information, but the way we interact with people.

Today, I was trying to find some background information for an article I'm writing and I typed "Turkish" into Google. As I scanned the results, my eyes caught my own name. Turns out, the editors at GoNomad liked my idea and in a blog included my entry as a list of top entries.

So now, in addition to googling the man who would become my husband, I find myself googling editors I work with ... or want to work with. And with blogs, I can find out all sorts of information about who they are, what they like, what projects they are working on (for example, I submitted a story to Travelers' Tales and on Jen Leo's blog she updates book's progress).

Research or spying? Maybe a little of both!

Two Turkish Treasures

Gokova Bay

My article, Two Turkish Treasures: Ephesus & Gokova was published by GoNomad today. While I am sure a few people will check it out, somehow I think the American Nudist will generate more site traffic!

Relocation Pains

Why am I such a stressball when it comes to moving?

Every big transition in life seems trigger some kind of hormone in my body which, in turn, produces the fantastic ability of my tear ducts to activate at the mention of words like, "pack out" or "apartment search."

Poor Liam - we met for lunch this afternoon and we started talking logistics about our move back to the States. And for no good reason, my eyes started to swell. As the Russians would say, Bozha Moi.

Real Simple Rates Travel Guides

One of my guilty pleasures? My monthly subscription to Real Simple. Something about the colorful pages, the perfect houses, the perfect women ... it is the ultimate bedtime reading because not one ounce of me has to think. Although I do admit, I feel horribly unorganized every time I open the pages (my house will never be as neat nor beautiful, but a girl can dream!)

Last night as I hungrily flipped through my new June issue, I found a great little article on travel guides: The Just-Right Guide for any Traveler. Laid out in a handy-dandy chart, the authors do a great job of describing which books work for varying kinds of travelers, from Let's Go to Time Out. And of course, the article is complemented by pretty pictures of the guidebooks!

Traveling Blind

When I was in the 6th or 7th grade, my parents told me to pack my bags for a weekend trip to visit my Aunt in Ohio. They also told me not to tell my brother or sister because they wanted to surprise them.

When we showed up at the airport in Wilkes-Barre, my parents somehow got my brother and sister on the plane without them realizing we were going anywhere (obviously pre 9/11). Only when the plane started to move did my Dad break down and tell them we were taking off, to assuage my brother's fear that we were about to be arrested for getting on the plane without a ticket.

Later, we arrived in the Pittsburgh airport and my parents told us to go find Gate #57. The three of us sprinted to one of the big monitors and read: "USAIRWAYS, Gate 57: Miami." We all started squealing. Our parents had surprised us with a trip to Key Largo (and in the middle of the night had unpacked all of my sweaters and replaced them with bathing suits). It was one of those vacations you never forget, not so much because of the destination but because of how we got there.

Today I got an email from a friend who is in between tours with the Foreign Service. In August she's off for Baghdad, but not before she visits every corner of the U.S. to see her friends. One of her most unique weekends: she's heading to an undisclosed location chosen at random from a list of Air Independence destinations. Her old roommate has a pair of free tickets and has asked someone else to throw all the names into a hat, choose one, book the tickets and then mail him the location. They'll open up the envelope together when they reach the airport.

They might end up in Buffalo, New York or Huntsville, Alabama. Either way, traveling blind can sometimes be the best way to go!

Meat Sweats

When we first moved to Kazakhstan, we were introduced to what everyone here lovingly called the "Meat Sweats." It involves a restless night of tossing and turning in bed, perspiration and nausea. The cause? A meal at one of the many shashliek places around Almaty where the meat may have been sitting outside just a wee-bit too long.

It's been at least a year and a half since I've suffered from the meat sweats. That is, until last night when I used some suspect chicken in the pad thai I was making. Both Liam and I woke up this morning nauseous and, well, meat sweaty. Yummy. Today it's white bread and water, until this storm passes.

Dangerous Times

For the past several weeks I've been working on an article for InsideOut Magazine on traveling in politically unstable countries. I opened up the Travel section of the Washington Post today and there is a great story about one traveler who found himself in the middle of a coup in Ecuador last month while he was on his way to an adventure cruise in the Galapagos Islands.

Stuck in the airport, the author decides to leave and see the coup for himself. I chuckled reading this because (1) if I was in the same situation I'd probably want to get a look for myself as well and (2) the advice I give in my article is to always stay away from angry crowds, as they are totally unpredictable.

Do as I say, not as I do?

That said, I think I imagine myself more daring than perhaps I really am. And more risk-adverse. I think I'd want to see what's going on, but from a nice safe and secure location, perhaps with a few body guards :)

Stasiland

Book Review

These days you can travel to the four corners of the earth, but in Stasiland, Anna Funder actually manages to transport her readers not only back in time but to a country that no longer exists.

When Anna Funder moved to Berlin in the mid-1990's, she found that no one really seemed to want to cover stories about what life was like during the GDR. People couldn't quite figure out how to deal with the ugliness of the regime -- do you forget or remember? In an effort to document and explore the human side of life in the GDR, Ms. Funder interviews a range of East Germans, including members of the Stasi. This book is gripping in its portrayal of human loss and regret. And gives a scary insight into the enormous control the Stasi wielded in the GDR (every 1 in 6 residents either worked for or was an informer for the Stasi).

When I was living in Europe in 1998, I traveled to Berlin for several days. For me, the fall of the Berlin wall was really a turning point in my political consciousness and I wanted to go and see the place for myself. I was twelve years old and it was the first time I felt like I was a witnesses to history. When I went to the supermarket with my Dad the next week, I remember asking him to buy copies of Time and Newsweek ... I wanted to have mementos, souvenirs of the event.

When I did visit Berlin 9 years later I remember feeling disappointed that there was so little of the wall left to see. But at the same time I realized I was silly to expect people to live with such an ugly reminder of a horrible past. What Ms. Funder does in her book is highlight that very tension of trying to remember the mistakes of the past but still find a way to move on, a way to heal. In one of the final chapters she visits a Leipzig museum where "artifacts" from the GDR are on display under new, clean glass. She struggles with the idea that museums are a place for past events, but the GDR and the effects of the regime still live on.

Click here for an interview with Anna Funder about Stasiland on WorldPress.org

WP Travel Photo Contest

At the beginning of May, the Washington Post announced its annual photo contest. This year, they're looking for photos that "avoid the obvious." Thinking back to some recent travel photos I've seen taken by friends, the image of garbage near the Ili River comes to mind. As well as rows of hanging beef flesh at a market in Kashgar. Might be winners!

For more info on the contest, here's the link. Entries are due by July 16th. Good luck!

Girls on the Go

For those with the travel bug, the urge to get out there and explore is constant. And when those inflicted with the bug aren't on the road, they settle for the next best thing: reading about far flung adventures.

This week GoNomad has a feature written by Kelly Westhoff on travel memoirs written by women. Some of these books intertwine life adventures with those on the road (falling in love with both France and a French man) or dealing with prison officials in Costa Rica. The article lists Kelly's 10 favorite travel memoirs by women. So if you too are stuck at home and looking for a vicarious adventure, pick one of these up.

In addition, Travelers' Tales publishes a great series of short stories written by women on their adventurous mishaps on the road, with titles like Sand in My Bra & Other Misadventures and Whose Panties are These Anyways? A third book in the "empire of the underwear series," The Thong Also Rises is due to be released this August.

Home again, home again...

Back in Almaty.

Downloaded my 100 or so pictures last night. Threw all of my stinky laundry into the wash. Watched another episode of Alias. Made a list of all of the stories I want to write and to whom I want to pitch. And now I'm in the office trying to get my life back in order and sort through the ridiculous number of work emails that have piled up in my in-box.

While we were traveling as I thought of articles or markets, I'd jot down notes, but I never found the time to actually start working on them, more than a few sentences or paragraphs. I've fully transitioned from keeping notes on paper to almost needing to write with a keyboard. I type quickly, so when I am hand writing something down the process seems so laborious and slow. I guess that is the beauty of a laptop -- can take it with you anywhere.

But this vacation was about exactly that: vacationing. Now I can start working on pitching some stories about Turkey. And what a great way to stretch out trips ... I live them once by being there and then again by writing about them!

Guidebooks

It is our last day in Istanbul and I am really sad to go. We flew back from Dalaman late last night and took the metro into the center of the city, which turned out to be incredibly easy. There is some sort of Formula One race going on this weekend, so the streets around the Blue Mosque and Aya Sofia are swarming with people wearing Nascar-like suits. A bit of an odd juxtaposition.

Spent the morning buying a few souvenirs at the Grand Bazaar and then went to visit a rug/tile salesmen that a friend from Almaty knows. Enjoyed an hour sipping tea and talking Turkish politics, and it was nice not to feel any pressure to buy anything!

Also, wanted to make a note on the guidebooks we've used here. I've always been a Lonely Planet kind of girl. Our bookshelves are lined with titles from China to Dubai. But before we came to Turkey, I decided that in addition to LP's Turkey book, I'd also order the DK Eyewitness guide to Istanbul. I had once purchased an Eyewitness guide before moving to France, mainly because I thought the pictures were so fantastic, but for my purposes then, I found that it wasn't very useful (i.e. the cheapest possible place to sleep and where to buy the best eurorail passes). But if you are actually interested in the historical facts of the sites you are visiting, rather than the best place to get a cheap pint near those historical sites, then the DK Eyewitness guides can't be beat.

The Eyewitness Istanbul guide has amazing maps and really lays out some of the sites, like Topkapi palace, fabulously. To be honest, it was better than the audio guide we rented.

So that's all for now. We're off to the Mavi Balick, our favorite restaurant, for our last meal in my new favorite city.

Reading Maps

Okay, so I'll never be a navigator, that I know.

It is our last day in the south of Turkey and we fly out of Dalaman tonight to Istanbul. I checked out the Lonley Planet and Dalaman is to the east of Gokova, and in between sits Marmaris. I figured, heck, let's take the bus to Marmaris, check out the town and have lunch and then head onward to the airport.

Ah, but it seems that there is no road between Marmaris and Dalaman and a small body of water between them. The buses go back through Gokova to get to the airport.

Luckily, my mistake only cost us 30 kilometers, but I'm telling you, I'm off map duty.

Marmaris is insane -- so many people (wearing practically nothing, which is kind of shocking after covering up in Istanbul to go to the Mosques) and tourists traps every five feet. We're sitting on the bay and there are several dozen yachts and a huge cruise ship in the harbor. It is a lovely setting, but I'm not sure if all the hassle here would make it a relaxing place to decompress. Liam and I spoke Russian (okay, he spoke Russian and I pretended to understand) as we walked through the market so the shop keepers wouldn't bug us as much. It worked until one actually did speak Russian and said, "pojalusta ..." I just smiled and kept walking.

A few more hours here and then to the airport (of course, via Gokova :)

Hotel Libraries

It is rare that I actually run out of books to read when I travel, but somehow neither L nor I planned very well and found ourselves at the beach with a dearth of reading material. Fortunately, a few of the guest houses and hotels we've been staying out have small libraries. We've traded in a few books and I've actually ended up with a few books that I would have never read otherwise (like a book of short stories by Jeffrey Archer).

I'm now deeply involved in a suspense thriller about Pompeii ... okay, it's not literature, but I'm at the beach!

Gokova Death March

Yesterday L and I decided to take a leisurely walk along the bay and explore some of the coves that sprinkle the shoreline. We left our hotel around 11:00, after breakfast and headed out with two bottles of water.

The day was perfect, warm in the sun, cool in the shade. For the first few miles we found a few parks where families were picnicking and kids were playing in the (cold!) water. Soon, the paved road turned into a gravel one and within an hour or so there wasn't a soul around.

The coastline of Gokova Bay is magical. The rock juts out of the water and it is only more striking when contrasted against the azure blue water of the bay. I've never visited a beach town more beautiful with so few people. There were no boats in the water, save the few of the fishermen.

Of course, where there are no people, there are no kiosks selling water, chips or candy bars.

Within two hours we had hiked quite a long way and our two water bottles were dry. Pretty soon, we came upon a sign that said, "Restaurant and Camping 8km." Wasn't close, but we'd come this far so we forged ahead.

And thus, the death march began.

The signs never seemed to quite be right. Within 30 minutes we came upon a second sign "5km." I thought, well, this is going to be a quick 8km. But then between 5km and 3km it must have taken us over an hour, up and down hills with no end in sight.

And to add to the dilemma, we weren't even sure that this restaurant, whose owner didn't seem to know how to measure any sort of distance, would even be open. We feared every step we took away from Akyaka would be two we'd have to take back in order to reach food and water.

Finally, we found a 1km sign. We laughed. Yeah right, we thought. We went ahead until we were sure we had reached 1km and at a bend in the road, we decided to turn around. We (i.e. I) was wilting and needed to go back.

After about an hour, a white rental car passed us and two Turkish tourists pulled over when we flagged them down. I'm not exactly sure they offered us a ride, or what they tought when we said, "Akyaka?" and pointed back to the town. But they didn't kick us out of their backseat and I used my one word I've learned in Turkish (thank you) several times when we got back to town.

We hobbled to the closest kabab restaurant, chugged a bottle of water, and then we chowed.

And today, we head to the beach with our books.

Akyaka I love ya

My brother's thesis advisor in college was a Turkish hotel and restaurant manager expert. He now lives in Ankara and when I emailed to tell him that we were coming to Turkey, he immediately wrote back asking how he could help.

L and I wanted to spend a week on the beach, but not the Bodrum dance until 5 a.m kind of beach experience. We were looking for something a little more low key. Cihan, my brother's professor, recommended his favorte spot on the Med -- a little town called Akyaka, tucked into Gokova bay. With jagged mountains and crystal blue water, this place is just what the doctor ordered.

We arrived here by bus yesterday and knew it was a good sign when we were having trouble hailing a cab to our hotel. No traffic. And no traffic means no oversized tourist buses, no carpet salesmen trying to get us into their shops "just to look" and no tacky gift shops. We finally awoke a man who was sleeping in his cab (who took us for a ride literally and figuratively charging us almost more than it took to take the 4 hour bus ride from Ephesus) and he brought us down to the bay.

We're here for a week and I'm going to drink up every quiet, peaceful minute.

Loving Istanbul

We've been here now for 4 days, walked what seems like 100 miles and with each step I've fallen more and more in love with Turkey. The food, the people, the history. It is almost too much to take in at once.

We are staying in a tiny hotel across from the Blue Mosque, and as I write this from the hotel computer, I am looking out at the Mosque as the sun goes down. The air is turning cold, but it is refreshing.

So far, the highlights:

1. Sleeping. We've spent so much time catching up on rest it has been luxurious. Averaging somewhere around 11 hours a night which is absurd, but hey, it's vacation/

2. Food. Yes, I've probably gained 10 lbs in four days, but every bite has been worth it. Donor Kababs, baklava, feta, olives, eggplant, fish, pudding, humus, mmmmmm. The list goes on.

3. Getting mugged. Okay, not really. But almost. Today I caught a 15 year old with his hand on my zipper. I quickly turned around before he could grab anything. Since then I've been having Alias/Jennifer Gardner fantasies where I kick his little butt.

4. Cruising on the Bosporus. Last night L and I spent four hours in our own private boat zipping up and down the city. Was one of the most romantic nights -- the sunset was amazing and we sipped wine and ate too much humus. Amazing!

5. Diamonds. Speaking of romantic, we saw the 86 caret diamond at Topkapi yesterday. I never knew diamonds came that big. But after waiting an hour in line to get in and dealing with all of the crowds, I've remaned the place "Topacaca." Which was even funnier at the time b/c we had just talked to two kids who knew about 3 sentences in English. Trying to communicate about soccer, the older one looked at us and said, "Renaldo ... caca." Not a Brazilian fan.

6. Pace of life. We sat outside this afternoon in a little square near the Grand bazaar. There must have been 50 men just hanging out drinking tea. Something we don't have alot of in America (although I wonder what that must do to the GNP...) Nice just to sit back and soak it all up.

7. Mosques galore. The skyline is like nothing I've ever seen. I've almost thought of Paris as being a city with amazing architecture, but this far surpasses anything Parisian. Everywhere you turn there is artistic you can't take your eyes off of. I just read "Four Pillars of the Earth" before coming out here and it has really made me appreciate what goes into building cathedrals/mosques/any great building. Especially in the time when most of these things went up!

8. Istanbul was Constantinople ... okay, for the past few days I haven't been able to get the "They Might be Giants" song out of my head.

Istanbul was Constantinople

Now it's Istanbul not Constantinople

Been a long time gone, Constantinople

Why did Constantinople get the works?

That's nobodys business but the Turks...

Tonight, we're heading over to Taskim square for dinner. Oh the fish! You grow to love fish when you live in a landlocked country, and we're stocking up.

That's all for now. Tomorrow we're off to Ephesus and the ruins!