Wandering Venice

The hubs and I spent a lovely weekend in Venice celebrating a friend’s wedding. Afterwards, we had some extra time to spend sightseeing. I originally had a whole itinerary planned, with every minute accounted for, but a last minute visa problem cut our trip shorter than we had planned. As I flipped through the guidebook trying to figure out a new itinerary, I suddenly remembered the way I used to travel: Show up and wander. Get lost. Take in all the sights and sounds and smells of the city. And so, aside from an obligatory Saint Mark’s Basilica visit, because you can’t really go to Venice for the first time and not do that, wander is what we did. We meandered though narrow streets and across bridges, no deadlines or specific destinations, just exploring Venice. And it was lovely. Here are a few snapshots. Venice is a destination we definitely plan to return to with more time to spend, but this weekend was a lovely introduction to a gorgeous city!

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So many beautiful bridges and canals everywhere!
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A gondola! No cars in Venice. Walking and boating are how you get around.

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Saint Mark’s Square: Eternally packed with tourists, but if you want an empty plaza for picture-taking, try going before eight or nine in the morning: it’ll be surprisingly calm and empty.

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Charming little courtyard where our hotel was located. Breakfast on the terrace was a lovely way to start the day.
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Canal-side dining on the Fondamenta della Misericordia. Spaghetti al nero di seppia, spaghetti with cuttlefish and a sauce made from cuttlefish ink, is a Venetian culinary specialty. Although it may sound strange, I promise you it’s delicious! Try it!
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Brightly colored glass dishes, jewelry, and decor, made on the Venetian island of Murano, are on display in countless shop windows in Venice. Glass earrings and coffee were the two souvenirs I chose to bring home. (Mmm… the coffee… don’t even get me started on the coffee.)

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Story time! Strangest moments in airports around the world

We’re leaving for the airport early tomorrow morning. Home for the Holidays, here we come! Boston Logan is typically a relatively calm and uneventful airport, but around the holidays, traveling is like a box of chocolates. You don’t know what you’re gonna get. While I procrastinate on my packing and present-wrapping, here are my all-time best airport stories, a sequel to my weird stories on trains and buses. Moments in airports that just made me do a double take and think to myself, “Wait a minute, did that actually just happen?”

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Grading papers in a near-empty Zurich airport in the middle of the night. Ever wonder where in the world your homework has been?

Cairo International Airport, March 2015

With my cohort of fellow Fulbrighters, I boarded an EgyptAir flight from Casablanca to Cairo to Amman for a spring conference. Here are some highlights from our EgyptAir experience:

  • The plane food looked very questionable, so I did not eat it and was starving by the time we got to Amman. But that was okay because…
  • Everyone who did eat it got food poisoning.
  • The plane was dirty.
  • The pilot said a prayer over the intercom before we left, and I had very mixed feelings about this because on the one hand I entirely support praying for safe travels and often do so myself, but I also want some reassurance that the pilot has confidence in himself and the plane, you know?
  • We flew home in three separate groups (as some left directly after the conference while I and a few other stayed to wander around Jordan). The second legs of ALL THREE flights were canceled, no explanation given, and we all got stranded in Cairo overnight.

So there we were in the Cairo airport late at night, in need of visas to leave the airport and go to a hotel. We’d thought this through beforehand, as we’d heard about the cancellation before our flight left Amman. While we were waiting in the Amman airport, we had traded our leftover Jordanian dinar for Egyptian pounds rather than Moroccan dirhams. So we all had enough Egyptian cash on hand to purchase our visas.

An airport officer pointed to six currency exchange kiosks surrounding the baggage claim area and told us we could get our visas at any of them.

So we approached the closest kiosk.

“Hi, could I get a visa, please? Our flight was canceled. We’ll just be in Cairo till tomorrow morning.” (hands over passport and form)

“Certainly. That will be twenty-five dollars.”

“Actually, can I pay in Egyptian pounds?”

“No, just dollars or euros.”

“I don’t have dollars.”

“You’re American.”

“Yes, but I’ve been outside the U.S. for the past seven months. I don’t have any American money.”

“How about euros?”

“I don’t have euros. I only have Moroccan dirhams and Egyptian pounds- how much does the visa cost in Egyptian pounds?”

“I’m sorry, I can only accept dollars or euros. You can try one of the other kiosks.”

So we made our way from kiosk to kiosk, and this conversation repeated itself at every kiosk, and when we finally desperately tried the sixth and last kiosk, I lost it and yelled, loudly enough that everyone in the baggage claim area could hear me- “You’re telling me that I can’t purchase an EGYPTIAN visa with EGYPTIAN currency IN EGPYT?!???”

The man behind the kiosk looked around nervously, slid an Egyptian visa across the counter, and said in a hurried whisper, “Ok, ok, just this once, and just for you. You can pay in Egyptian pounds.”

So, PSA, if you’re going to Egypt, bring your dollars.

Mohammed V International Airport (Casablanca), March 2015

As I sat in the domestic terminal, waiting for my flight to Ouarzazate, a stray cat wandered calmly through the departure gate waiting areas. People reacted exactly how they should have: They glanced at the cat, shrugged- just a cat- and went back to their newspapers or cell phones or coffee cups. A totally normal response that felt excessively strange to me because, let’s be real here, in an American airport this cat would have caused a terminal-wide code red freak-out. It’s a terrorist cat. There’s a bomb inside it. It’s an improvised explosive cat. It’s a cat full of drugs. Where is its passport? Where is its owner?  It’s about to detonate! HELP! Run for your lives!

Marrakesh Menara Airport, April 2015

This is the story of how I learned a very valuable life lesson called you get what you pay for.

A friend invited myself and two other girls to go to Italy with her to spend Easter with her cousins. We all readily accepted. We found a $16 flight from Marrakesh to Rome on an airline called Vueling. A deal almost too good to be true. We snapped it up. We’d never flown Vueling before, but we knew Ryanair pretty well and we were cool with those super-cheap no-frills European airlines. We bought a second (and equally cheap) flight from Rome to Lamezia- our final destination in southern Italy- on Ryanair.

Marrakesh was a ten hour train trip away from where I lived, but trains in Morocco are inexpensive and comfortable and I had no problem making such a long trek if it meant that $16 flight and being able to travel with my friends. I took that ten hour ONCF journey, meeting up with one of the girls in Rabat along the way and traveling with her for the final four hours, and we all ended up in the Marrakesh airport by midnight to catch our 2:00 a.m. flight.

Yes, you heard that right. Our flight had a two a.m. departure time. Whatever, it was worth it for $16. And ours was the only flight departing from Marrakesh at anywhere near that time, making a delay less likely.

Oh, wait. Take that back. Two o’clock became two thirty, two forty-five, three… and we were still waiting at our departure gate. No explanation was given. Just as we were starting to get worried about missing our connecting flight in Rome, we were finally allowed to board.

So we boarded…

…and proceeded to sit on the runway for another hour.

Once again, no explanation was given for the delay.

We found a flight attendant and asked her what was going on. We told her we had a connecting flight on another airline that we were likely to miss at that point- would Vueling be able to do anything about that? Could she give us a ballpark estimate of when we might be taking off?

The flight attendant simply shrugged at us- “like a sassy diva,” my friend said, and I can vouch that that is a very realistic description and no exaggeration.

It was now past 4:00 a.m. and passengers were getting very antsy and starting to complain loudly.

A man in an orange vest came on the plane and told us, and I swear I am not making this up, that they would have to turn the plane off and turn it back on again. He quickly ducked out of the plane before anyone had a chance to ask questions.

Rebooting a plane apparently takes at least half an hour.

So we continued to wait.

Some passengers got out of their seats and loudly demanded to get off the flight. They argued back and forth with the flight attendants and the man in the vest who reappeared out of nowhere and another airline guy in a suit. The guy in the suit and the guy in the vest disappeared, then reappeared, and announced to everyone that the mechanical problem had been fixed and the plan was ready for takeoff, but since some passengers wanted to get off the plane there would be another forty minute delay while their baggage was retrieved from the hold.

And that was IT.

Pandemonium broke loose.

Passengers were screaming and yelling in Italian, Arabic, and English. Yelling at each other, yelling at the people getting off the plane, yelling at the man in the suit and the man in the vest and the flight attendants, who were of course all yelling back. Babies were crying. Some guys shoved each other. Someone punched the back of my seat. It was nuts.

So the pilot employed an age-old trick passed down from kindergarten teacher to kindergarten teacher for generations. He turned off the lights for five minutes until we all calmed down.

We missed our connecting flight in Rome and had to cough up sixty euros for a train ticket to Lamezia and then sit on a train for seven or eight hours.

At least we made it in time for Easter dinner!

You get what you pay for. And sometimes what you get is a good story.

Abed Amani Karume International Airport (Zanzibar), July 2015

My husband and I flew from Nairobi to Zanzibar for the second half of our honeymoon. As we stepped off the plane, we were immediately greeted by giant, bright yellow signs: All travelers must show proof of yellow fever immunization. I had my yellow WHO card with me, but my husband did not have his, though he’d been vaccinated about eight years before. We were given two options. “You can wait here for the next flight back to Nairobi, or we can vaccinate you here.” My husband chose the latter option. So the TSA officer- and, I repeat, not a nurse, the TSA officer- opened a mini fridge, took out a needle, showed my husband that it was sterile, and proceeded to jab him in the arm right there by the baggage claim.

I like to end this story with “annnddd now he’s autistic.”

PSA, get your yellow fever shot before you go to Tanzania and don’t lose your WHO card cause they don’t play.

George Bush Intercontinental Airport (Houston), August 2014

The man in line in front of me at Starbucks was wearing cowboy boots and a giant cowboy hat completely non-ironically. Maybe that’s normal in Texas, but I’m an urban New England girl. It was weird.

Philadelphia International Airport, May 2016

On my way home from a girls’ weekend away, I was strolling through the Philadelphia airport in the direction of my gate, casually looking around, when, as I passed an information desk, the woman at the desk called out to me, “Starbucks is over that way!”

Should I be amused or offended? Do I really give off that strong of a “basic white girl” vibe? Should I work on that? Siiiiigh.

(The worst part: I actually was looking for a Starbucks.)

(Cringe.)

 

There are some other good ones too, but that’s it for today!

 

 

 

Photo dump! Spain, Jordan, Italy, Kenya, Dubai, Paris, and lots of Morocco!

I kept up with this blog till November and then let it fall to the wayside… for a couple of reasons. One, exam time came around and I was suddenly consumed with grading… although also with buses and trains and planes and adventures. Two, as you probably know if you’re reading this, I got engaged! And all my internet time was taken over by pinterest, weddingwire, and theknot. But since it’s spring break and I’m already bored and I’ve been missing Morocco lately, here is a pile of my fave photos from winter and spring 2015!

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December in Ceuta: Twinkly lights on orange trees

 

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View from a friend’s rooftop in Fez, Morocco

 

Morocco’s Mediterranean coast is beautiful. So blue!

 

 

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Fresh grilled sardines, shrimp, and bissara (a soup made from fava beans) at a cafe by the water in M’diq

 

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Argan trees in southern Morocco

 

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One of my favorite cafes in Tetouan

 

Burj Khalifa, Dubai

 

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Kenya: a cute little baby warthog crosses the road in front of our car

 

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Chefchaouen: Blue(ish) town in the Rif Mountains

 

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The Alhambra, Granada

 

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Alhambra again

 

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Sevilla, Spain

 

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So I had a chance to go (back) to Barcelona, this time with a dear friend, and it was beautiful. Healing and redemption and life and broken pieces put back together, yay.

 

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I tried to capture a photo that would do the Sagrada Familia some amount of justice. I failed. Seriously, if you are ever in Barcelona, don’t let the long ticket lines dissuade you. This was so worth it.

 

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A riad (dar?)

 

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I started noticing that my ring matches stuff in Morocco. Like the Oudaias in Rabat!

 

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… and the Mediterranean!

 

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On International Women’s Day, the Moroccan rail company (ONCF) handed out cards and roses to every woman who bought a train ticket!

 

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Amman at night

 

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We happened to be in Jordan right after ISIS burned the Jordanian pilot. These signs were all over Amman. “Life your head high, you’re Jordanian.”

 

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Mount Nebo. Checkin’ out that Promised Land.

 

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Floating in the Dead Sea was an interesting experience! I was surprised by how narrow the Dead Sea was. Probably not a smart idea to float across, though…

 

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Desert sunset. Wadi Rum, Jordan.

 

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Petra, Jordan

 

 

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“A rose red city half as old as time…”

 

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We’ll always have Paris

 

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A stop along the way from Ouarzazate to the Sahara

 

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wind and sand

 

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We spent a night in this tent in the Sahara. There was a windstorm and I was a big baby and thought our tent was going to collapse. But it held up!

 

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On a bus heading way way down south to Essaouira

 

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Essaouira, Morocco

 

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Annnnddd more Essaouira!

 

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Hungry street cats hoping the tourists will drop some tajine crumbs
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Got to spend Easter with an awesome friend and her cousins in southern Italy! They fed us and fed us and fed us. It was basically food heaven.

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Rome!

 

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Taroudant, Morocco