Burlington, I Love You! Montréal, Je T'aime!

When I booked my flight to Plattsburgh, NY, I was ecstatic for the chance to go to Montreal, which is only an hour or two away. Accompanied by Kelsey, my roommate Kelly, Michael, Steven, and Salma, this trip was highly anticipated and I could not WAIT for the chance to practice my French. The first half of the trip I spent predominately with Kelsey and the latter half with Kelly. We arrived in Plattsburgh at about 1:30 AM and Kelsey's aunt picked the two of us up. We had decided to stop in Burlington, Vermont before heading to Montreal but the rest of the group was disinterested. Salma was going to Montreal to visit her sister, who lives there, and Kelly was anxious to revisit Quebec, since she is French Canadian and loves Montreal. Kelsey and I stayed with her aunt Peru, NY and then had breakfast at her grandmother's the next morning. Her aunt drove us to Port Kent and we took the ferry over Lake Champlain to Burlington.

In a few words, Burlington was amazing. It was a small hipster college town akin to Gainesville but with better weather in my opinion. Though it was drizzling, the temperature was much more my style than Florida, cold enough for a jackets. I am also one of those weirdos that actually likes rain for the most part, especially when I'm prepared for it (which I was). We were there on Saturday so the farmer's market was going on. Everything had maple syrup or maple products in it, by far the best stereotype I have ever heard about Vermont (Canada was similar, to my delight). I tried maple syrup infused lemonade and some random Afghani spinach pastry. The pastry wasn't particularly good because it wasn't fresh, but the lemonade was delicious. We wandered around Church Street, the main shopping center. There were a lot of charming little cafes and restaurants. I also tried a maple syrup latte and it was very good, combining my love of coffee, caffeine, and maple syrup. Then, we walked along the beautiful Lake Champlain for a bit and took the bus to the airport for the greyhound. 

We got into Canada around 9:30/10 PM and went straight to the hostel. No one was there so we ventured out into the city and walked along Rue Ontario, Rue St. Denis, and Rue St. Catherine. We walked and talked for two and a half hours, taking all of the city lights and the excitement pulsing through the streets. We got back to the hostel and went to bed around 1:30, Steven, Michael, and Kelly still no where to be found until we woke up the next morning. The group as whole went to a local boulangerie and I ordered a croissant with almonds, which was awesome. I was pleased with myself for successfully ordering in French. Then Kelly and I split off and went to Mont Royal and the large look out over the city from the top of this mountain. There was also a large open field and some sort of festival was going on at the park. We then went shopping along St. Catherine until we met up with her friend Elizabeth, a student at McGill in Montreal. She was very nice and she also invited all of us to a small potluck party that her friends were having. It was a lot of fun and I was intrigued by the number of international students I met, one from France, one from China, and a few from Venezuela. I don't know much about McGill although one of my aunts earned her MBA in international business through the school, albeit while living in Japan.

I ended up sleeping over at Liz's apartment and taking the bus back to the hostel. We returned to the bakery and then Michael took us to a bagel shop. Apparently Montreal's bagels are famous and after having one, I understood why. I had a phenomenal sesame bagel, hot and fresh. Again, I ordered in French and conversed with the store owner briefly, a charming man in his mid- to late sixties who had been in the bagel business for decades. I was meeting Kelly at the Contemporary Art Museum at 12, so I rushed off on my own across town. Kelsey was supposed to come with me but wanted to go to the bio dome more, so she bailed. I was 20 minutes late at least, but she didn't mind, particularly since the museum ended up being closed on Mondays and we had the day to wander. 

We did a lot but nothing in particular. We stumbled upon a cute little maple syrup museum and an exhibition on the art of the 11 Native American tribes in Quebec. We seemed drawn to cafes, including one cafe with an art gallery. We mostly walked around Vieux-Montreal and the old port along the St. Lawrence River. I also tried poutine (pronounced "pou-tin", rhyming with "who" and "win", not "pou-teen", like I would have thought seeing it spelled out). It's essentially a heart attack-inducing plate of French fries coated in gravy and cheese. I thought it sounded disgusting but once I tried it, I was enamored of its deliciousness. We also wandered into a public garden and climbed some interesting structures that we stumbled upon around the city.

We met Elizabeth for dinner and went to a random diner. Then we waited for our 10:30 greyhound bus back to Plattsburgh. I discovered a magical chocolate bar in Canada, called Coffee Crisp. It's chocolate and coffee, like a tiramisu kit kat. So good, I bought five of them to bring home but they didn't last long in Florida. The bus ride was much quicker than I anticipated and we were in the US in no time. I was disappointed that I never got my passport stamped but I guess it's like traveling between EU countries. Kelly, Kelsey, Salma, and I split a taxi to the airport but the boys were decided to walk the four plus miles in the cold. Suffice to say, we got there at least an hour before they did, spending copious amounts of time in the tiny Plattsburgh airport. Montreal was wonderful. It reminded me a lot of Boston, but with French undertones. I cannot wait to go back someday and I can only imagine how beautiful it must be in the summer.

Events occurred: September 21-25, 2012

Ancient Mayan Ruins and Volcanic Marshmallow Roasting in Guatemala

International travel is addicting. With one email and a click of a few buttons, I can book a ticket to some far off and exotic land I've never been to before. When Spirit announced its deals for the end of summer/beginning of fall, I found myself buying tickets to Guatemala for a four day weekend the week before fall semester started. 

Upon arrival to Guatemala City, our group hopped on a bus and headed into town. We bought bus tickets to Tikal, a 12 hour bus ride across the country. I was slightly unprepared for this trip. I had assumed that, especially since it was August, temperatures would be akin to those in El Salvador. However, the elevation combined with the overcast skies caught me off guard and I had not packed a jacket, which proved somewhat miserable for this bus ride. To make things worse, the bus broke down in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. A truck came and picked up a majority of the people on our bus and we were left sitting there until another bus came to get us a few hours later. We arrived in Flores, a nearby city, around 2 or 3 AM. The first few hostels we went to were full but we eventually found one with available beds.

The next morning, we took a taxi to Tikal. The taxi was unlike any I had ever experienced. Accustom to taxis in New York City or Boston, I was surprised to climb into an old car with no taxi markings, no seatbelts, a giant hole in the trunk, and a limited amount of gas. However, our driver was really nice and even though his English was limited, he made for pleasant company on the 45 minute drive to Tikal. The ruins were incredible. Standing next to them, I felt like I was shrinking into the grass. We climbed a few of them but most had signs posted that discouraged doing so. We could walk around many of the structures though and the patterns in the stone showed hundreds of years of wear. We spent the entire day scrambling around these massive ruins and hiking around the national park. 

That night, we headed back toward Guatemala City and arrived in Antigua the next morning. Antigua was beautiful, colorful buildings dotting the mountainous landscape. There was also a square near our hostel with a large fountain where I purchased a handmade scarf from a local woman. She and the other women in her village dyed the fibers themselves and wove them into scarves by hand. She also had some gorgeous needlepoint but it was heavy and would have been difficult for me to transport. When we arrived in Antigua, we found a shuttle to Pacaya, a large active volcano. We hiked to the top and I could see smoke smoldering across the rocks. There was a small stand at the top of the volcano, selling bracelets, necklaces, and other souvenirs. The jewelry was all made from volcanic ash and other pieces of the volcano and the money earned was used to rebuild villages that had been destroyed by the volcano. I bought a small wooden bracelet with the black grains in the shape of a tree, representing the tree of life. As we hiked on, I could feel the heat rising. Another group had marshmallows, which they shared with us. We roasted them on the volcano, using the heat that was emitting from the rocks.

The next morning, half of the group, including me, headed back into Guatemala City for our flight. I had purchased my ticket early and gotten a cheaper flight leaving on that date but it was unavailable when everyone else bought tickets. The three guys who were with me all had work the next morning, so they spent the extra $50 to go back on Sunday instead of Monday. However, when we arrived at the airport, we had some difficulty procuring our tickets. We learned from a Spirit employee that our flight had been cancelled and that they were trying to find other flights for us. We ended up sitting at the airport for five hours. I was unable to contact my family or my roommate until that night, sending a few people into panic. However, Spirit came through somewhat and put us on the flight the next morning back to Fort Lauderdale. They also put us up at a nice hotel in a safe zone of Guatemala City and shuttled us to and from the airport. In addition, they provided dinner for us. When we arrived at the hotel, I emailed my parents and roommate to let them know what happened. Then, we walked around Guatemala City some, staying close to the hotel for safety. We took full advantage of the buffet-style dinner and also made use of the rooftop jacuzzi, which had a gorgeous view overlooking the city and its surrounding mountains. We ended up on the same flight as the rest of our group and met up with them at the airport, much to their surprise.

Events occurred: August 16-20, 2012  

Heritage Greece, an Experience of a Lifetime

Mimicking birthright, there is a new program aimed toward Greek American students: Heritage Greece. I applied for this program with little expectation of being accepted: they were only accepting 25 students from all over the country. When I received my congratulations email, I literally screamed and jumped in excitement. I found out that another student from UF, Johnny, was also accepted. We didn't know each other that well other than from Greek dance practice but we became friends over the duration of the trip. All the accepted students met in Washington DC, where we would embark on this adventure with strangers and return home with friends. Our first night in DC, we were hosted by the Greek Consulate for dinner and we all tried to get to know each other. Then, we were invited to a bar/club owned by, you guessed it, Greeks. Our short-lived trip in DC was just foreshadowing the fun and excitement yet to come.

Day One: When we arrived in Greece, everyone was too tired to speak. However, once we were on the bus heading to Agia Paraskevi (Αγία Παρασκευή), where the American College of Greece is located, I pressed my face against the glass window allowed my eyes to dart across the landscape. We were greeted with a welcome reception and some of my favorite Greek foods. I ate everything in sight (a common theme of this trip) and we were assigned to dorms. The dorms were designed like apartments: mine had four bedrooms with two beds in each, two bathrooms, a living room area, a kitchen, and a balcony. Too energized to sleep, we all gathered in different apartments' balconies and tried to find out what there was to do in the area. 

Day Two: One of the stipulations of the program was a class in the Modern Greek language. They split us into two groups: those who knew nothing and those who knew something. I was in the latter, a smaller class of nine with only two girls, me and Chloe. Our skill levels were all over the place but we still managed to all learn something and practice perfecting our Greek. After lunch, we met up at the gate of ACG and hopped on a bus. We took a driving tour of the city before stopping outside the Temple of Zeus and the stadium. Though both beautiful, none could compare to the Parthenon (Παρθενώνας) atop the Acropolis (Ακρόπολη), a glorious tribute to classical Greece. Seeing the Parthenon in person was overwhelming. It astounds me to think about the rich history that has passed through Athens, all while the Parthenon has still been standing. The sights of the city were also gorgeous, spots of ancient architecture intermingled with modern city buildings. I also loved seeing the Theater of Dionysus, which was visible on the walk up to the Acropolis. A country ravaged by debt and blamed for the European economic crisis can still be proud of its past and the impact it has had on the present. That night we went to a Cretan Taverna in Agia Paraskevi, trying foods from Crete (Κρήτη) that differ from those in mainland Greece and the other islands. When we returned from dinner, a small group of us decided to get a taste for Athenian nightlife with some of the native Greeks in our program, students at ACG. They took us to a club, where we were the awkward Americans trying to dance among the more statuesque and rigid Europeans. 

Day Three: I would not have made to Hydra (Ύδρα) had it not been for Elena. Exhausted from the night before and jet lagged, she managed to wake me up a few minutes before the bus was supposed to leave and I packed for the day in such a rush that I forgot to put anything in my bag, which only had a few pens in it. We took a boat from Piraeus (Πειραιάς) and that was an adventure all by itself. Much akin to jet ski or a roller coaster, every time we hit rough water (or any water at all), the boat flew in the air and bounced down with a lot of force. Some of the Heritage Greece kids got sick, but I was one of the few who actually enjoyed the thrill of it. When we arrived in Hydra, we took a short tour from a local islander and then split in various directions. One interesting thing about Hydra is the lack of cars: they aren't allowed. It was everything anyone could ever imagine about Greece, bleached-white buildings, clear blue water, and grapevines wrapped around lattices. I started off swimming in the Aegean Sea (Αιγαίο Πέλαγος), the most beautiful and clear water I have ever seen. After sunning for a bit, I ventured around the island, darting in and out of little boutiques and shops. I liked watching the fisherman, their leathery faces tanned by years slaving away in the sea, their hands worn from handling nets and fish. I tried to move around the island, hanging out with different HG kids. I had my first authentic Greek gyro (γύρο) and it changed my life. Never have I craved such a food as I craved gyros when I returned to the US. They are magical. That night, once we returned to the mainland, we went to a local bar to watch the soccer game against Russia for the Euro Cup. It was intense, but only for us soccer fans. Everyone else could have cared less. We won, advancing on to face Germany the next week (another great story and my favorite part of the trip despite our loss).

Day Four: As expected on any summer trip, we spent a day at the beach, soaking up the sun and playing in the waves. The beach in Marathon (Μαραθώνας) was unlike any I had ever been to before. It was a private beach with a snack bar and a drinks bar, volleyball courts, and a grassy area. The beach itself was sandy but you wouldn't know it at first glance because all the sand was covered by chairs and umbrellas, stretching up until the point where the waves lapped the shore. Unable to sit still for long periods of time, I didn't last long sunbathing. Instead, I socialized with the other HG kids and a bunch of us went swimming. I took a walk with Jessica and Andrea, my suitemate and my roommate, down the shore. We met some Greek guys wearing nothing but leaves, asking "photographia (φωτογραφία)? photographia (φωτογραφία)?" They took a picture with us and I couldn't contain my laughter. I had never seen such bravado on a beach before. Later, we engaged in a volleyball game with each other. By the time we were on the bus, I was exhausted and slightly sunburned. The program took us out for another nice meal in the neighborhood and then we had reflection time that night with the entire group. 

Day Five: More Greek class and more time spent in Agia Paraskevi. We were finally given a tour of the area, becoming more and more comfortable with our surroundings and navigating the neighborhood. That evening, we were driven through Lavrion (Λαύριο), on our way to Sounion (Σούνιο). It was beautiful but I was so tired that I slept through a majority of the drive. Sounion was really cool, the home to the Temple of Poseidon. One of the reasons I love Greece so much is the juxtaposition of mountains and sea, highlighted by these large temples atop mountains, reaching for the heavens and towering over the sparkling blue water. We had dinner at a nice open restaurant overlooking the water and the temple, made even more beautiful as the sun began to set. One of the ACG students, Nikos, gave us a tour and historical/mythological account of the temple's history. It's incredible to see so much culture seeped into the mountainside and such a large relic still standing.

Day Six: One of my favorite days of the trip, we started off with our classes and then all met up together for a dance class. I considered myself to be pretty good a traditional Greek dancing. A member of UF's Greek dance troupe, I thought that I would know everything and be at ease. However, our teacher brought in so many different dances from different islands and parts of mainland Greece that I was only familiar with a few. Even then, the styles are so different that my steps weren't the same as everyone else's. I loved the high energy of the dance class and the high energy of our instructor. After that, we were given host families and put into small groups. On the way to meet up with everyone at the ACG campus, however, I was stung by a bee (or so they say, I'm convinced it was something else). Considering how many injuries I have sustained over the years, this tiny dot of a sting was the most excruciatingly painful moment I have endured. It attacked my calf muscle, which was tensing and spasming. I was crying hysterically and I could hardly breathe. I was carried to the infirmary and one of the women, who sounded American, soothed me and rubbed an antihistamine on the sting. Chloe, who had become one of my best friends over the duration of the trip, also sat with me. The woman began talking to me to try to distract me and we discovered that she was my host mom! Also, as luck would have it, she was Chloe's host mom too and the two of us got into her car and rode up to her home in the mountains. The woman, Heraclia (Ηρακλειά), was also Greek-American and had lived in Greece off and on since her teenage years. She and her husband both worked for the university and her children attended school at the younger complements to ACG. We spoke mostly Greek during dinner and afterwards, Heraclia, Chloe, and I drove to a nearby monastery. We went home for gelato and listened to some popular Greek music. The views from their balcony were spectacular, lights glittering all the way up the mountain, spread out even farther as you looked up. 

Day Seven: On the seventh day, we were given some free time after class which I used to enjoy ACG's pool and to get a frappe (φραπές) from a local cafe, called a kafeneio (καφενείο). Frappes are delicious. They are akin to an iced cappuccino, a blended, frothy coffee drink with milk. I always ordered the same: ένα φραπέ με γάλα, μέτριο, σε παρακαλώ (translation: a frappe with milk, a moderate amount of sugar, please). Delicious. Most Greeks are big coffee drinkers and I embrace that stereotype wholeheartedly. After my relaxing afternoon off, we had a reception at the college president's house. Our host families were in attendance and we got to socialize with a lot of the prominent ACG staff. Again, the food was awesome. I may be biased, but I love Greek food and this reception did not disappoint. 


Day Eight: After class, we were taken via bus to Plaka (Πλάκα), a notoriously touristy area of downtown Athens. We took a walking tour of the city, culminating in a visit to the new Acropolis Museum. If you ever go to Athens, I highly recommend this museum. It was amazing to walk over glass and look down upon ancient artifacts. Nikos gave us another tour within the museum, spouting off information about history and mythology that I found to be fascinating. The trip to this museum inspired me to pursue my Classics minor and to take more classes about Greek history. The intertwining of history and mythology proves that, in some ways, they are one in the same. Some of the myths metaphorically represent the thoughts, feelings, and actions going on in Greece at the time. It was beautiful. When we left the museum, we were given time to walk through Plaka. Rather than buying touristy items, I gallivanted through the cobbled streets with my friends, enjoying the fresh summer breeze and the cloudless sky. I'm about 90% certain that clouds do not exist in Greece during the summer. Rather, every day is clear blue skies with light winds to cool everyone. HG treated us to another nice dinner, at an open restaurant in Plaka that had an abundance of feta and live music, including a bouzouki (μπουζούκι), which is a traditional Greek stringed instrument. That night, a small group of us decided to go out to Kifisia (Κηφισιά) to enjoy Athenian nightlife. Johnny and I ended up staying until the club closed at 6 AM. By the time we returned to Agia Paraskevi, the sun was already rising so we made the mistake to stay awake and hang out in the plateia (πλατεία), or square.   

Day Nine: Our final exams in class were quick, thankfully. Exhausted from the night before, I could barely keep my eyes open. I napped through lunch and was rejuvenated by the time we were expected to meet the Archbishop of the Greek Orthodox Church. Though I am not religious, I was in awe of meeting the Archbishop. We were each given a cross that he had blessed and were given the opportunity to ask him questions. One of the most interesting questions to me was the one concerning Greeks in Constantinople, known as Istanbul to those outside of Greece. To me, this hit close to home since my family had fled Constantinople because of the tensions between Greeks in Turkey and Turks in Greece that led to a population exchange and mass slaughtering on both sides during the early-mid 20th century. We each introduced ourselves to the Archbishop, in Greek of course, and told him where our families were from in Greece. I was proud to say η οικογένειά μου είναι από την Κωνσταντινούπολη και Σπάρτη, my family is from Constantinople and Sparta. 

That night was the soccer match against Germany. Though to most Americans, it may seem like just a soccer game, to Greece this was so much more. Facing Germany in soccer mirrored the fights between Greece and Germany over the Greek economic crisis and the austerity measures. To, winning the game was more than that, it would have been a symbol of power and pride that Greeks wear on their sleeves. I was by far the most emotional of the Greek Americans. I bought a large Greek flag that I wore as a cape and I ran around screaming the word for soccer, POTHOSFAIRO (ΠΟΔΟΣΦΑΙΡΟ)! I learned Greek fight songs and game traditions from my ACG friends, Nikos in particular. We screamed together, cheered together, and, inevitably, cried together as the match ended. I lost my voice and was distraught post-game but I knew that the heaviness I felt in my heart could never compare to that of the native Greeks living through this crisis. I wept for them.

Day Ten: The next day, recovering from defeat and disappointment, we boarded the bus and embarked on an adventure to Delphi (Δελφοί), the site of the oracle. The day was hot and some of the group stayed behind in the shade rather than hiking up to the stadium. I flitted around, taking in the mountainous terrain and the ancient relics, a theater, a stadium, and, of course, the oracle itself. We also went to a small ski town nearby, eating lunch as a group and then splitting off to explore. On such a hot day, I found myself at another kafeneio, downing my frappe in record speed and enjoying the company of my friends. That night, ACG hosted a prom for its students and graduates. Our last big night in Athens together, we all bought champagne to celebrate. Like that first night in an Athenian club, the ACG kids were not receptive to our dancing initially but after the open bar had been drained, the Greeks joined the Greek Americans around the pool area and put the American in American College of Greece. 

Day Eleven: Our last day together was bittersweet. We drove through the countryside to the Palamidi (Παλαμήδι) fortress in Nafplion (Ναύπλιο). It was so beautiful and the water was especially bright. In the water, there is a castle on an island, small dot in a wall of rich turquoise. The colors were so vivid and breathtaking, I could hardly believe me eyes. Even now, when I look at pictures I can hardly believe that they haven't been edited or Photoshopped. Leaving Nafplion, we went to the Semeli (Σεμέλη) Winery in Nemea (Νεμέα). We were given a tour of the vineyard and then taken down to where the large barrels of wine are stored. Here, we had a wine tasting and they taught us how to properly taste and wine and what to look for in reds, whites, and roses. We had dinner at the winery, a farewell banquet overlooking the vineyards and they presented us all with a small bottle of wine, which I brought home for my parents as a souvenir. When we returned to the dorms, everyone packed for the airport except for me and a few others who had extended their stays in Greece or in Europe. As everyone headed for the bus, I stayed back, hugging everyone as they left. I started to cry a little, especially when I hugged Chloe good bye but then we realized that we would be seeing each other when I got to the States. She attends Harvard and was there for the summer and I was flying into Boston from Greece for my nephew's christening, so we agreed to meet up and hang out. Thus ended my Heritage Greece experience. 

The rest of my time spent in Greece was in Athens primarily. I met up with my new ACG friends frequently and I spent time with Johnny, who was also there, and my friend Alexa from UF who was studying abroad at ACG that summer. My days consisted of much of the same: eat, sleep, go to the beach, eat and sleep at the beach, repeat. I had some of the best gyros of my life as well as the best pastries, all in Varkiza (Βαρκιζά). Though I regret not going to more islands, like Santorini or Mykonos, I figure that it's just an excuse to go back to Greece in the future.   

Events occurred: June 12-July 4, 2012

MLK Weekend: How about El Salvador?

One of my favorite OAR traditions is the stalking of Spirit Airlines' deals. Spirit's hub is in Fort Lauderdale, FL, a mere five hours drive from Gainesville. Spirit also has a program, called $9 Fare Club. It costs about $70 a year and gives it's members exclusive access to very cheap flights. My first Spirit experience was one of the most stressful moments I have ever had in OAR. I learned about the trip through the list serve and emailed the trip leader, Danny, immediately. I also convinced Christopher, who was still on winter break, to come. The flight was the following week and we had limited time to buy tickets, so I impulsively decided to go to Central America for the first time for only about $130 roundtrip. Danny and I emailed back and forth about buying tickets. I decided to get the $9 Fare Club membership and thus, I was responsible for buying everyone's tickets. He sent me the list of names and email addresses of those who had seemed interested and I had until midnight to buy or the deal would run out. I tried contacting everyone to get their full legal name, date of birth, and passport number. One of the guys was with a friend in the mountains and had difficulty getting cell service. He also couldn't locate his passport number. Time was running out and I had to make the decision to buy. I got the tickets around 11:45 PM, just short of midnight, for 6 of us: Danny, Chris, a girl I had never met named Darby, and two other guys I had also never met, both named Jan. Steven bought his own ticket and emailed me about it later. One of the Jans, nicknamed Johnny, was meeting us in the airport since he was flying back from Mexico, and the other Jan was Danny's roommate. 

One week after buying the tickets, Steven, Darby, Chris, and I headed down to Fort Lauderdale for our late night flight at 11:40 PM. The drive down was the first time I had been to south Florida without my parents and without just taking i95 all the way down. The concept of toll roads in Florida was a foreign concept to me. We also left more the 12 hours in advance, just to be on the safe side, so we were able to stop for a lengthy lunch on the way down. Darby invited us to her parents' house just outside of Orlando and we got to the opportunity to meet her family. They were very welcoming and they seemed to be as intrigued by the Spirit deals as I was and still am to some extent. The odd thing about Spirit, however, is the cost of luggage. As cheap as most OAR kids are, we refused to pay the carry-on baggage fee, taking with us only a small personal item: a backpack with all of our clothes, toiletries, money, passport, etc... shoved inside. While this may seem annoying to the average traveller that prefers having a large rolling suitcase and a duffel bag, I actually prefer travelling abroad with just a small backpack. I can keep it with me at all times without any issues and I tend to prevent myself from overpacking (a habit I developed from road tripping to New York with my family every summer). 

Arriving at the airport several hours before take off is always perfectly ok with me. A somewhat seasoned traveller, I prefer waiting at the gate for an extra hour or more rather than missing my flight. I'm also usually too excited to sit at home for any amount of time the night before any flight, especially going somewhere I've never been. We met Danny and Jan at the airport, spotting them almost immediately. However, the group became concerned when we hadn't found Johnny, whom none of us had ever met before. We were sitting near a young guy wearing a large black and white striped poncho and a hat. He started talking to us in thickly accented English and we soon realized that Johnny, a UF international student from Slovakia, had been sitting next to us the whole time. I wish I could remember the flight itself but I fell asleep almost immediately, our group spread out around the nearly empty airplane, each taking our own row to sleep in. When we arrived in San Salvador, the capital, I wasn't sure what to expect. Danny had arranged private transportation through our hostal, so once we paid for our visas and had our passports stamped, we located the sign with his name on it. The group piled into a large passenger van and my first impression of the country was speeding through in the dark on unpaved roads surrounded by a thick growth of trees and tropical plants. 

Our hostal itself was by far the best I have ever been to. Owned by a British man, Darren, and his Guatemalan wife Seka, the hostal was in Playa San Diego and called El Roble. I have heard that it has since closed because Seka was diagnosed with lymphoma, but I recommend perusing their website, 
http://elrobleelsalvador.blogspot.com/. 
The hostal had two swimming pools, a fire pit, and hammocks sprinkled through out. There was also giant jenga, a ping pong table, and a bar that offered its guests a free welcome drink. Breakfast was also offered every morning and you could buy dinner there if you wanted. My favorite part of the hostal was the abundance of local flora and fauna, giant palm trees in particular, and the large words of welcome painted across the walls in different languages. Since we arrived around 1:30 AM, we our first hours there sleeping. 

The next morning, we arranged for the hostal to take us to a local volcano, Santa Ana. We decided to hike to the top with a large tour group. The tour was in Spanish, so I relied on Steven and Chris to translate everything for me. The weather was a wonderful change from the cold winter break I had spent in Europe, with highs in the 90s. On the drive to Santa Ana, we stopped to take a group shot overlooking a large lake with mountains in the background. There were some locals selling fruit but I was too nervous to try, which I regret now. The start of our volcano hike was shady, the trees thick and bright green. We could also see an active volcano across from the one we were on. As we headed up, the landscape became more barren and more difficult to ascend. Apparently, we did not hike up the actual path and went a more difficult way but we reached the summit all the same. It was incredible. The crater of the volcano was filled with a blue-green lake that appeared to be thick like molasses. It was also very windy and I was afraid that I was going to be blown off the side and swept into the volcano's depths. I preferred sitting, my center of mass closer to the ground and more stable. Chris and Danny took another approach, heading to the far side of the volcano until they were small specs, barely identifiable. I actually got in trouble with the tour guide because I was waiting for them to come back rather than heading back down the volcano with everyone else. When we reached the bottom, I was thirsty, sunburned, exhausted, and also extremely happy. We ventured over to a playground and spent some time climbing all over everything in our sights. 

For dinner, we decided to treat ourselves. The best part about El Salvador is the usage of American currency. We didn't have to exchange anything and pocket change went a long way. Darren recommended a boat restaurant on the lake we had seen from the top of Santa Ana. The boys decided to rent a jet ski and took turns zooming off across the lake while I sat with my feet dangling off the edge of the boat, enjoying the cool water and the beautiful sunset. Johnny decided to do flips and dives off the second story of the boat, drawing an audience of locals who applauded even more than we did. After dinner, we returned to the hostal and relaxed around the bar. We also went swimming in the pool and built a fire in the pit. We took advantage of all the hostal had to offer, including several rounds of ping pong and a few games of giant jenga. 





The next morning, we decided to go to the local beach in La Libertad, known for its surfing at Punta Roca, or "point break." We took our chances on local transportation rather than relying on the hostal. Only ten cents a ride, the bus are old American school buses that have been painted in bright colors and decorated with various images. We got off in the middle of a random street, heading towards the waves. Danny, Jan, and Johnny seemed most insistent on renting a surfboard and hitting the water. They found a local shop and spent the day fighting waves. The rest of us ventured down the beach, checking out small shops and the pier. The pier was most interesting to me, filled with vendors selling fish and other foods. Chris bought some green mangos, covered in a red chili sauce, and let me try them. They were delicious, unlike anything I've ever tasted. I expected them to be more like regular mangos but they were sour and the chili sauce added an extra burst of flavor. The boats were all brightly colored, the same way the rest of this town seemed to be painted. I also went out to the rocks and climbed up to a ledge several feet off the ground, like it was meant to be bouldered. The rest of my day at the beach was spent near a little restaurant where we ate lunch and hung out. The chairs were in the shade, which felt much cooler than being out in the blazing sun. The guys came in from surfing and joined us. Johnny continued his tradition of jumping off of high point and doing flips for an audience, leaping off the balcony on to the sand. Then, we started a small game of toss football with some El Salvadorian children. That was another highlight of this trip, engaging in a game with these kids. Even though I didn't speak their language, we could still play ball together. I also loved hearing little bits of their squeaky-voiced Spanish, which I found very endearing. Soon thereafter, we decided to head back. 

The goal was to get back to the hostal before dark. Even though I didn't feel unsafe at any point in El Salvador, I didn't feel the need to take any chances. Jan and Johnny, however, took off for the pier while we were waiting for the bus. We sent Chris after them since he speaks Spanish and neither one of them do. The rest of us returned to the hostal and when they hadn't arrived by 6, I started to panic. My worst fears about kidnapping and murder began swirling around my head when I heard the front gate open and saw the three of them, each with a large goofy grin on his face. They had gotten a large fish to grill up for dinner and couldn't have been more pleased with themselves. Another group had also arrived at the hostal and we befriended them, playing volleyball in the pool and hanging out in hammocks. 

Our flight home was at 2:05 AM on Tuesday morning, another typical nuance of Spirit flights: the odd hours. We decided to stay up and leave around 11:30 or so. I fell asleep in a hammock, exhausted from the previous two days of adventuring. By the time I was woken up for the ride to the airport, I was in such a groggy state that I hardly remember getting to the airport and going through security. The next thing I knew, we were sitting on the plane. Johnny had purchased some alcohol from the duty free shop in the airport and didn't understand that he wasn't allowed to open it. Instead, he made friends with everyone sitting around us and poured shots for the random strangers around. We almost all got kicked off the plane for this and stranded in El Salvador, but luckily we made it home. Overall, El Salvador was one of my favorite OAR trips of all time. 

Events occurred: January 14-17, 2012

Turkey/Bulgaria 2011: Istanbul Part Two

The bus ride from Plovdiv to Istanbul was disconcerting. The bus company overbooked and we almost didn't get seats. A lot of people had to stand in the aisles and the bus ride was lengthy. When we arrived in Istanbul, we decided to explore the infamous bazaars. The Grand Bazaar is a huge indoor marketplace, overloaded with rugs, lamps, pashminas, jewelry, and other trinkets. I bought myself a pashmina and another one for my friend Kathryn. I also bought my mom, sister-in-law, and some other friends hand embroidered coin purses and evil eye bracelets. After that, we went to the Spice Bazaar, a smaller marketplace that sold hundreds of spices, teas, nuts, fruits, pastries, and Turkish Delight. I bought some spices for my parents and a half-kilo each of Turkish Delight for my brothers, dad, and grandparents.

While in Turkey, we also visited the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia. The Hagia Sophia was beautiful and it was interesting to see the Christianity versus Islam wars that occurred there. I think that it would have been more beautiful as a church, mostly because that was how it was originally intended and I thought the iconography of the church was incredible. Spending Christmas Eve in Turkey was strange, not only because it is a predominantly Muslim country so Christmas isn't acknowledged, but because I wasn't with my family. I chose that day to venture out on my own while the others went to a museum. I headed back toward the Grand Bazaar and ran into Jack, an American staying at our hostel that I had met the night before. He was travelling by himself because he had been on the Israel Birthright trip and decided to explore more of the world while he was able. We went to the Bazaar together and I haggled for a handmade, hand painted bowl for my mom. Then we walked around, splitting off near the University. I met up with Emily, Brice, and Andrew again. We decided to go to a Turkish hookah bar and spent the evening walking around.

The following day, we walked around another part of the city. We saw some Roman-style aqueducts. Andrew split off and the rest of us returned to the Spice Bazaar for more Turkish Delight and spices. After he left, Emily Brice, and I walked along the Bosphorus before returning to the hostel. Since it was Christmas day and our last day to spend in Istanbul before our flight the next morning, we all decided to splurge on a traditional Turkish bath. The men and women were separated and luckily our group consisted of two members of each sex. Emily and I decided to fully embrace what we thought was the norm in Turkish baths and went in with just our towels on. To our slight embarrassment, we discovered that most of the women were in their underwear. We started in the sauna, gripping our towels very tightly. However, once we were called out to start our baths, the woman in charge of us ripped our towels off of us and we decided to embrace the situation. The Turkish bath was the perfect end to this trip, I have never felt so clean in my life. We were each fully scrubbed down and exfoliated, our hair washed in warm water. It was also nice to feel so warm and clean after having been in the snow and cold rain for so many days. We returned to the sauna afterwards and ended up spending a few hours there longer than the guys. That night, we had a nice dinner and prepared for the long journey home. 

Events occurred: December 23-26, 2011